#when you have me. and he will believe her

[froggiewrites]

Fanboy

Pairing: Law x Reader

NSFW

Summary: You get a little more than you bargained for when you decide to clean your Captain's office for him and stumble upon his smutty fanfiction. Warnings: Very Mild Angst, Smut, Fem!Reader, Roleplay, Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Edging, Minor Dacryphilia, Petnames (use of sweetheart and good girl) Word Count: 7.6k Notes: This was originally supposed to be a sub 2000 word silly one shot about Law writing Sora smut. As you can see, it very quickly got out of hand. I hope you all enjoy it!

You have come to terms with the fact your Captain does not and will never want you how you want him.

It was hard, at first, to hear his silky voice and see his strong hands and not imagine him saying what you want to hear as he holds you against the wall, fingers slipping slowly up your thighs to where you need him most. It got even harder a few years in, after he started wearing perpetually open shirts and coats, showing off the tattoos you so desperately want to trace your tongue across. But you’re finally starting to accept that he simply doesn’t feel the same. His eyes don’t linger on you when you’re around. He doesn’t show you any leniency (not that you would expect any, of course, but it’s hard not to notice his favoritism for Bepo when he forgives him in an instant for a transgression he had you swab the deck for). He doesn’t accept your help when you offer it, no matter how badly he needs it.

He just doesn’t really want anything to do with you, or at least no more to do with you than anyone else on the ship. Penguin and Shachi, who unfortunately clocked your affection for your Captain years ago, have come up with a long list of excuses as to why he hasn’t shown any signs of affection.

“He’s shy.”

“He gets embarrassed easily.”

“He’s worried about the power gap.”

“He only looks at you when you aren’t looking.”

“Yelling is how he shows his affection.”

And of course, your personal favorite.

“He’s just a nerd. He doesn’t know how to act around women.”

Shachi has repeated this one a lot, and as always you immediately dispute it. “That cannot possibly be true, Shachi.”

“Why not?”

“Look at him!”

“I know what he looks like. Doesn’t change the fact he gets nervous.”

“Captain has never, for even a single moment, shown any sort of hesitation or shyness in front of me. And he’s a grown man, a handsome one, not to mention a wanted pirate. You honestly expect me to believe he’s some shy little nerd who can’t bring himself to talk to me? He just doesn’t like me, Shachi. And that’s fine. I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

“Handle what?” Penguin’s voice echoes in the small room he and Shachi share, which you’ve decided to invade for the day. 

“Her pining for Captain.”

“Ah.”

You huff. “Don’t say it like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like it’s like…a fact of life. Something so easy to brush past.”

Shachi narrows his eyes in confusion. “I thought you said that’s what you wanted to do. Be casual about it, and all.”

“Yeah, I want to. It feels different when you do it.” You’re pouting. You hate that you’re pouting.

Penguin gives you a pitying smile, dripping with good natured sympathy that makes you clench your jaw. “It’s tough, isn’t it?” He sits on the edge of his bed, careful not to shift you too much. He pats your shoulder, tutting quietly. “It’s hard to get over somebody you don’t really want to get over.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. You finally lift your head, and once you make eye contact, his smile turns a little more teasing.

“I know a great guy you could use as a rebound.”

You sigh. “Is it you?”

He laughs. “Who’s to say? You don’t need him yet.” His smile softens again, something more genuine. “But know that if you really do give up, there will be other guys. Other chances. Give this one a good shot, a real one, and if it doesn’t work out? Come talk to us, and it’ll all be alright.”

Shachi pipes up as well. “It will work out, really. But if it doesn’t…” he wiggles his eyebrows, and you can’t help but finally give them the laugh they were clearly aiming for. Which becomes a full on giggle fit once they light up and give each other a massive high five at their victory. The room is warm, and you finally forget your worries for a moment.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” Law’s voice cuts through you like ice, and your laughter stops in an instant. Shachi and Penguin are unphased, of course, still smiling freely.

“I just got off of my shift, Captain. I was going to take a nap, but…” Penguin pokes your side, and you let out a soft squeak as you curl in on yourself. You don’t miss the way Law’s eyes narrow slightly at the contact, the way he seems to focus in on the noise. He must be annoyed with you, with how you’re taking up space somewhere you don’t belong.

“I’m also off shift.” Your voice is small, embarrassingly so. 

“I wasn’t talking to you two.” Law’s voice is just as flat and authoritative as always. He’s nothing if not born to command. You’d love to hear what commands he might give you, if–

No. Bad. Evil. Your mind betrays you, as it always does. You sit up so you can hide yourself behind Penguin, make yourself small and inconspicuous and hope that Law will stop looking at you with those beautiful piercing eyes. You don’t know how long you can be normal under such an intense gaze. 

“I’m on break,” Shachi defends, causing Law’s eyes to shift over to him. You can’t help but let out a sigh of relief as you feel the pressure of his gaze leave you, and you wrap your arms lightly around Penguin, allowing your forehead to fall forward and press into his back. You can feel the rumble of a laugh working its way through his chest, though you can’t figure out why.

Law’s voice is significantly harsher than before. “Well, end it.” You flinch, unused to him snapping quite so cruelly. Law may have a shorter temper than he would admit, but he never sounds quite so furious, especially not with Shachi and Penguin. He seems to realize this as well, because the next time he speaks is much gentler. “I–Just get back to work. I need everyone at their best right now.”

“Aye aye, Captain!” There’s a hint of chuckle in Shachi’s voice, for some reason. He stands, bed creaking as he does. “You can use my bed if you want to nap in here. Let Peng have his.”

You let out a soft whine, but peel yourself off of Penguin anyway. “No, it’s fine, I should get back to my room anyway. I need a nap before I do anything else.” You think you see Law nodding in approval out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look at him, his eyes are firmly on Shachi, glaring at his back as he leaves. Just wishful thinking on your part, as always. 

Penguin softly pats your back as you walk past. “Chin up. It’ll all work out.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“What’ll work out?” Law is staring at Penguin’s hand on your back.

“Nothing!” You try not to sound panicked. You fail, of course.

His eyes narrow.

“Sorry, Captain. This is a secret just for us lowly crew members. No captains allowed!” Penguin’s smile is relaxed and easy, and it almost manages to calm you down. You would love to play along, make a little joke out of it, but the idea of him finding out petrifies you. What if he’s disgusted by the idea? Horrified enough to kick you out of the crew, your home, your family? He wouldn’t, you know that, but the image in your head is so clear. Your chest feels tight, your head fuzzy, and you think at some point you started holding your breath.

Law makes a noncommittal grunt, scowl still clear on his face, but he leaves. A small mercy.

“Hey, take a breath, please. You look like you’re gonna pass out.”

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out.”

“Are you gonna be alright to get back to your room? Do you need me to walk you?” Penguin’s hand rests gently on your elbow, and he looks ready to jump to your aid at any moment.

You give him a shaky smile. “I’ll be alright. Anxiety’s never killed anyone. Probably.” You take care to walk as steadily as you can out of the room, avoiding eye contact with your Captain, who’s waiting directly outside.

“You okay?” His voice stops you in your tracks.

“Yeah, I’m–” You see the disbelief on his face. “I’ve been better. But it’s okay. I’ll get there.”

“Are Penguin and Shachi giving you trouble? They mean well, but sometimes their jokes can go a little far. I–” He clears his throat, eyes glancing away for a moment. “I could talk to them. If you need me to.”

You chuckle. This means he really has no idea he’s the source of your anguish. Good. “Oh, no, it’s nothing like that. They’re actually helping me through something.”

He purses his lips. You imagine how soft they’d feel on yours. “Helping you through something?”

“Yeah. I’ve been struggling with it lately, and talking to them has really helped.” You stare intensely at the wall behind him, worrying that you’ll come undone and say something you can’t take back if you stare into his eyes for too long. Something about him just makes you want to melt under his gaze, and you can’t afford to give in to the impulse.

He hums, eyes briefly fluttering closed. “I see. Well, I’m glad you have their support.” Is it just you, or is his voice a bit colder than it was before? “I’ll leave you be. Have a nice nap.”

“Thanks, Captain.” You try not to run back to your room until you’re sure he can’t hear your footsteps anymore. You change out of your boiler suit, desperate to be in something more comfortable than this, and throw yourself into your bed face first. You press your face into your pillow, trying to ground yourself. You aren’t allowed to imagine what it would feel like to lay on Law’s chest instead, his hands on your back, tracing meaningless patterns into your skin. You aren’t allowed to imagine the warmth of the blankets as his, or the comfort of your weighted blanket as his arm around your back. You certainly aren’t allowed to cry about the fact that it isn’t him, and that it never will be. Because that would mean you weren’t getting over him, instead getting lost in a fantasy of what can never and will never be. And you have no time for fantasy, despite what your heart keeps trying to tell you. 

You dream of him, as you always seem to.

You could cope with it, if it were simply sex. If it were about nothing more than his cock and his hands and the way his voice penetrates deep into your bones whenever you hear it, turning you pliable and needy. But today’s dream is one you’ve had before, and one you always dread.

I love you. His hands are gentle as they wrap around your waist, pulling you close. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. His nose nuzzles against your neck, tickling you and making you giggle.

I love you too, Law. I think I always have. Your hands rest on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating below your fingers, quick and thundering. You smile. Nervous?

Of course I am. Look at you. His eyes bore into yours, and you can see the affection flooding them. His nose brushes against yours, his lips growing closer, and his eyes flutter shut.

Yours shoot open.

No matter how many dreams you have about Law, you can never kiss him. How sad, that your brain can imagine a hundred ways he can fuck you and not one in which gives you the one thing you’ve been craving most.

You throw off your covers and throw on a bra, not bothering to get fully dressed. You need some air, which is unfortunate, considering the Tang won’t surface for at least another day or two. You can at least go downstairs and find a window, press yourself against the glass and pretend you’re out in the cold of the ocean, at peace with the world around you. You can avoid passing Law’s office, and hopefully that means you’ll avoid the man himself. You don’t want to burst into tears the moment you see him, and you feel too soft and fragile right now, like your edges are crumbling. Half of you is still in the dream, melting into fantasy, and being snapped into reality with a single look might shatter you.

You pad quietly out into the hallway, unsure of what time it is, not wanting to wake anyone. It’s impossible to tell what time of day it is on the Tang when you’re underwater, lit only by harsh fluorescents that constantly buzz. It’s peaceful, feeling the cold metal of the floors seep through your socks and hearing the quiet thunk of your footsteps muffled by the fabric. 

“Are you heading downstairs?”

You turn to see Bepo, shifting uncomfortably on his feet, papers in hand. “Yeah, I am. Why? Do you need something?”

“Can you run these to Captain for me? I would, but–” 

You see him wince as he speaks, and you immediately know what the problem is. Before you can even think about it, you’re swiping the papers from his hands easily. “Yeah, of course, big guy. I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you so much!” He’s off in an instant.

You stare at the papers, willing yourself into reality. You’re going to bring something to your captain. The man you have no other relationship with. Just doing your job. And afterwards you can go back to your room and cry all you want, if you really feel like you need to.

Law should be in his office right now, buried up to his neck in paperwork. It doesn’t feel great to add to that pile, or to let him see you so underdressed, but Bepo needed help. You can’t let him suffer just to avoid some embarrassment. You make your way down, knocking lightly against his office door.

No voice calls you inside.

Strange. He should be here. Maybe he fell asleep at his desk again. You’ve heard the others scold him for that dozens of times, and you’ve caught him yourself once or twice. He’s going to ruin his back if he keeps doing that. You crack open the door, ready to shift him into a more comfortable position, but you find your Captain isn’t actually there at all. His desk is a mess, papers everywhere, a sharp contrast from the neatly organized shelves and minimalist look of the rest of the room.

“Maybe I should tidy up for him,” you mutter to yourself. Law hates asking for help with things he believes he should be able to handle on his own, but clearly this is getting away from him. And even if he wasn’t grateful for the intrusion, at least it might lighten his load a little. You’d do nearly anything to ease your Captain’s burdens, if he’d just let you.

Before you realize it, your hands are on the papers, your former fragility forgotten as you get lost in the calm that such a mundane task brings you. You start by simply organizing the papers into stacks based on their titles and a quick skim of their opening paragraphs. You don’t read any further, not wanting to read anything not meant for your eyes, and you quickly find you’re able to organize everything into three neat stacks: medical papers, ship logs, and a third stack of anything that doesn’t fit into the previous two. You’re nearly finished when you find a title that makes you pause.

You can’t figure out what What You Can’t Have could mean, or what this bundle of papers is doing in Law’s office. Skimming the first few paragraphs doesn’t give you any explanation, until you start reading more closely and see a name: Sora.

Everyone in the North Blue knows about Sora, Warrior of the Sea, and everyone on this ship knows it more intimately than most. Your Captain’s fondness for the series and your fondness for him means you know it very well, well enough to know this is not one of the noncanonical (but still official) spinoff novels, or a novel adaptation of one of the comics. There’s a character you’ve never heard of before in this, one that, if you were a more paranoid person, you would suspect is based on you. She can’t be, of course. That would be ridiculous. But as you read her introductory paragraph, you can’t help but notice she bears a striking physical resemblance to you. Same hair and eye color, same height, same build. But she can’t be you. She’s described as seductive, enchanting, and many other things you know nobody would ever say about you.

You should put this down. But the writing style is so familiar, and so are the handwritten edits in the margins. Your captain wrote this. You had no idea this was what he did in what little spare time he has. You keep telling yourself to stop reading, to tuck it away and pretend you didn’t see it, because really, you know he wouldn’t want you to have seen it, easily embarrassed as he is. But there’s so much passion in the words, so much care, and frankly? It’s good. Really good. You think he has some real talent, in something you would have never expected him to even try. His care for the series oozes from every word, and he’s really good at building tension, and–

Oh.

Your captain hasn’t just been writing fanfiction about his favorite hero.

He’s been writing smut.

Really good smut, honestly.

You lean against the desk, completely enraptured by his work. The tension between Sora and this unnamed woman is astonishing, every single word winding you up tighter as you wait for the dam to break. Before you know it, you’re fully bent over the desk, clutching the page in your hands, trying not to rub your thighs together at the very graphic descriptions of what Sora is doing with his hands. You imagine Law’s hands, lithe and long, sliding under your shirt like Sora’s do under this mystery woman’s. You imagine his breath puffing against your ear as he instructs, be good for me, now, and maybe you can finally get what you want, just like Sora does. You imagine him moving impossibly closer, feeling his hardness press into your thigh as– 

“What are you doing in here?”

You freeze. Your captain is standing in the door, papers in hand and scowl severe. If you didn’t know better, you would think for a moment his eyes lingered on the cleavage you’re showing by leaning over this far. But you do know better, so you tell yourself he’s simply observing the papers in your hands, even if his gaze seems aimed too high for that. You shoot up, papers still in hand, shirt riding up in the process, and god does it look like his eyes dip down to your exposed midriff in the process. But they don’t. You have more pressing matters than your delusions, anyway.

“Hi Captain!”

“...Hi.”

“I–Um. I was organizing your desk for you.”

His eyes linger on the three stacks of papers, humming quietly. “I see that. …Why?”

“Bepo had me run papers down to you, but you weren’t here, and–and your desk was so messy, so much messier than usual, and I was worried maybe you were overwhelmed and I thought it might help.” You’re speaking a mile a minute, clutching the papers close to your chest in some desperate attempt to ground yourself, but the sound of the papers wrinkling causes him to glance down and now you’re sure that just for a moment he was looking at your boobs and you’re far more flustered than you were when you began.

And even worse, he smiles. It’s a soft, gentle thing, which sneaks so slowly onto his face you don’t even know if he realizes it’s there. But it is. And it’s beautiful. “Thank you, then. I appreciate the thought.”

Your grip eases on the papers for a second, and the crinkling brings his attention back to them. You don’t know what gives it away, but with the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his lips part, you know that he knows what you have in your hands. The way he whispers your name, the fear in it, makes your heart clench.

“Captain–”

“Did you–I–” He takes a breath, gathers himself. “Did you read anything you weren’t supposed to?”

God, you did. You’re halfway through a sex scene, flushed and flustered and thinking about your captain in ways that are wholly and completely inappropriate. You’re panicking. You can’t let Law see how flustered you are, can’t let him realize that you were fantasizing about him, lusting after him in his office while he’s out like some kind of pervert. So, trying to turn this around on him, throw him off his rhythm, you decide to make a deeply out of character choice.

You open your mouth, taking a dramatic breath as though you're going to start reading aloud, and you can see the panic in Law's eyes. Before you can decide between reading and handing it over to spare him the embarrassment, you hear “Shambles!” as the papers in your hand are swapped with the ones he walked in with. You're momentarily disappointed, before you look down and are struck with intense and all consuming delight.

In trying to get the fanfiction out of your hands, Law has, in fact, given you more of his fanfiction to read.

You gasp quietly, cheshire cat grin widening. Law looks at you with confusion, clearly still so thrown he hasn't realized what's just transpired. In your current state, you can only think of one way to inform him.

"Her hands were soft and gentle, so small compared to his-"

"STOP." He lunges forward around the desk, powers forgotten as he decides to bullrush you to get the papers out of your hands. His hands wrap around your wrists, and before you know it you’re pinned against the desk, chests pressed together, his leg pressed between your thighs. You flush, overwhelmed by the sensation of his hard body against yours, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Do you think this is funny?”

You open your mouth to respond, but his lips are so close, and you feel something else pressing into your midriff. You make a small choked noise, and his glare doesn’t dampen.

“Are you trying to embarrass your captain?”

“I–uh–Captain–” You can barely squeak out anything, and he presses closer.

“Answer me.”

“You’re so close.”

He pauses.

He blinks.

And suddenly your captain is across the room, face bright red, holding his papers in front of his chest like a shield. “I–um.” He stares at you a moment, his eyes moving from your face to your chest to your hips and back up, and suddenly the papers shifts down in front of his crotch.

He couldn’t…

Could he?

Before you can process this, he’s speaking again, his tone far less authoritative than it was before. “How far did you read?”

“Uh–pretty far.”

You could swear his voice cracks a little as he whispers, “Oh god. This is–you were never supposed to see that.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep reading, it was just–it was really good.”

He stares at you a moment, mouth agape. “What?”

“It was–I liked it a lot. I didn’t even mean to start it, I just couldn’t figure out what pile to put it in, and then I got really invested, and–I’m really, really sorry, Captain.”

“You liked it?” His eyes are narrowed, looking at you like something dangerous, like if he shows a moment of weakness you’ll pounce. He approaches you slowly, inching closer and closer.

“...Yeah. I did. I was really impressed, actually. I didn’t know you were a writer.”

He scoffs. “I wouldn’t call myself that.”

“Why?”

“I just…don’t know if I’m good at it.” He sounds small in a way you’ve never heard him. You’ve never seen Law less than confident before. He absolutely radiates it, a constant smug grin and twinkle in his eyes. It suits him far better than slumped shoulders and wringing hands.

“Are you kidding? It was amazing. What I was able to read, anyway. I couldn’t bear to put it down.” You reach for him for just a moment, your hand ready to touch his shoulder, but something in you pulls it back. You can’t bring yourself to touch him, not as you are. 

He won’t look at you. You can feel his regret in sharing, in allowing his mask to crack slightly. There’s a bitterness to his tone as he snaps at you like a wounded animal. “You expect me to believe that? That you didn’t just read it to laugh at me?”

You can’t keep the pity off of your face. His first instinct is always to believe he’ll be hurt, that an open hand is a sign of a slap, and not a kind touch. “Why on earth would I do that, Captain?”

His shoulders unknot a bit as he thinks it over. You have never done anything to hurt him, and to tease in such a cruel way is not in your nature. He’s not relaxed, not quite, but he isn’t ready to run anymore. He leans against a nearby table, parking himself at a distance but assuring you he won’t go further. “I suppose you wouldn’t. …So you really liked it?”

The way he’s looking at you is so fragile, so soft. You feel your heart clench at the sight of such a guarded man looking so adorable, though you know he would hate to be called such a thing. You can’t help the affection that leaks into your gentle smile as you look at him. “I really did.”

He huffs, trying to bring back up his walls, but he can’t hide his relief, and his continued interest. “What did you like about it?”

“I thought the descriptions were very vivid. It was…” It feels like crossing a line you can’t uncross to call it hot, but he’s looking at you so expectantly. “Very stimulating.”

Something akin to a smirk grows on his face, offset by the dust of a blush on his cheeks. His voice is an octave deeper when he speaks. “Simulating?”

You shiver. “I–uh–yes. The leads had really good chemistry. I never imagined Sora would be so…charming. And I liked the woman too, though I have to admit I didn’t recognize her name.”

He nods. “You wouldn’t. She’s an original character.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, I wanted to try my hand at something new, and I didn’t like pairing him with any of the canon characters so I just…made one up.”

You shift nervously on your feet, thinking about how remarkably familiar her description was. “So you made her just for this? Didn’t even give her a name?”

“I haven’t decided her name yet, but I’m working on it. And yeah, she’s just for this. Why?”

You want to be subtle, ease your way in, but your mind is running a mile a minute and frankly subtlety has never been your strong suit anyway. “So…is she supposed to be me?”

He shoots up so quickly he nearly falls over. “What? No! No, why would you think that?” He looks absolutely mortified, like he’s praying the floor swallows him whole. He looks about two seconds away from shambling himself out of the sub and letting the ocean take him away.

“Well in her intro, when you describe her…she looks a lot like me.”

“...She does?” He seems genuinely surprised, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Why are you asking? You’re the writer! You didn’t realize?”

“No, I…” He’s blushing to the tips of his ears. “She was just supposed to be a beautiful woman. I didn’t think that hard about what she looked like beyond that.”

“She has the same hair color and eye color as me, you describe her as around my height, and the dress she’s wearing in her intro is my favorite color.”

His shoulders are so tense they’re practically up over his ears. If his voice cracks when he yells, you’re kind enough not to acknowledge it. “I didn’t think that much about it! I just thought of a beautiful woman and I described her.”

“So when you think of a beautiful woman in your head, you see me?”

He doesn’t answer.

You try to hide your giddy smile. “That’s sweet, Captain.”

He avoids eye contact so aggressively you swear it must be hurting him at this point. “It wasn’t–I–I didn’t notice. You don’t think it’s…creepy?”

“That you think I’m beautiful?”

“That I wrote porn about a woman who looks exactly like you.”

“Oh. When you put it like that I guess it doesn’t sound great.” He tenses again, so you rush to reassure him. “But no, I don’t think it’s creepy. It’s not like you meant to, or anything. Or that you wrote about me and like, another member of the crew or something. Why would I be mad that I just happen to be exactly your type?” Your heart is beating out of your chest as you try to portray a confidence you certainly don’t feel. 

“Right. Yeah. I–There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He didn’t deny it.

“And it’s…great porn, honestly.”

Your delivery is so awkward the tension finally breaks as he laughs at you. “I appreciate that. I worked hard on it. But I’m not sure on some of the descriptions.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure it reads as true to life.”

“Does it need to?”

“No, not really, fantasies don’t have to be realistic. But…I can’t help but think about it anyway. What if part of it is so unrealistic it takes you out of it entirely, and I just didn’t notice? Or didn’t know because I’ve never tried that specific thing? Do you know what I mean?”

You do. You know insecurity in your work, the way it whispers in your ear. You know that words are not enough reassurance to silence those whispers. You want to help him, even if you don’t know how you could.

“What if we…tested it? To see if it’s realistic?” You can’t believe the words that just left your mouth. From the look on his face, Law can’t either.

“What?” A beautiful crimson streaks across his face and up to his ears, heat radiating off of him.

“Oh my god. Forget I said that, that was so inappropriate, I’ll just go–”

“No!” He’s so loud you both flinch, and he seems surprised by his own objection. His long fingers are wrapped around your wrist, and you can feel his calluses brush against your skin. God, what you wouldn’t give for those fingers to be somewhere else. “No, don’t–don’t leave. I think–I would–um. I’d like that.”

You blink. “You would?”

“Just to…test it. To make sure my writing is accurate. I’m a perfectionist.”

“Right.”

“Yeah.” His eyes flicker down to where he’s holding you, and to your surprise, he doesn’t release his grip. He tugs you closer, pressing your chests together, and you can feel his warm breath in his ear. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Law.”

“What?”

The deep rumble of his voice is commanding in a way that has you rubbing your thighs together. “I want to hear you say my name. Call me Law.”

“Yes, Law.”

You can feel his smirk as he whispers the next words in your ear. “Good girl.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you bite your lip to keep from making any deeply embarrassing noises. He chuckles as he pulls away, and you see no trace of his earlier apprehension or nerves. You suppose Law has always been a good liar, always putting up the front of the proud, confident, and unshakable Surgeon of Death. What is this but another part for him to play?

“How did it start again?” He places his hands on your hips, leading you away from the desk and toward the wall. “She and Sora meet up in the club, strike up a conversation–”

“Can we skip to the good part?” You hate how needy and breathless you sound. You’re already worked up from reading, from hearing him speak, from being so close, that you think if you spend another minute without some kind of release you might explode.

He chuckles. “I guess we can skip forward a bit.” He presses you against the wall, hand sliding to your thigh. You shiver, but he stops right before his fingers slide under your shorts. “But have you been good enough to earn it?”

You whine, a pathetic, wounded sound that comes from deep within you. For a moment, you see his facade slip as he swallows, trying not to give away how much the sound turned him on. But after a moment his mask settles back firmly in place, and you’re both ready to continue the game. “Please, Law. I’ve been good. I’ll be good.”

His smile is all teeth as his fingers find their place inside of you. First one, pumping slowly and deliberately, curling to hit your sweet spot just right. He moans quietly in your ear at the feeling of it. You know his line before he says it. “Do you feel that? The way you’re pulling me in? You need me bad, sweetheart, don’t you?”

He inserts a second finger right as you open your mouth to answer. “Ahh–Yes! I need you!”

He pumps harder, faster, and his other hand starts to wander towards your chest. His lips find your neck, nipping at the point where it meets your jaw, making you gasp again. His hand gently squeezes your breast through your shirt, and he can feel your hardened nipples through the fabric. He chuckles. “Yes, you do. Nobody else can make you feel as good as I can. You know it. That’s why you’re here, that’s why you’re so drawn to me. On some level you know: it’s just you and me. We’re all there is, all that matters. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, Law! Yes!”

His free hand effortlessly removes your shirt, and you gasp as you’re exposed to the air, your back pressing into the cold wall. He removes your bra next, letting out a soft hiss of appreciation when he finally sees them fully exposed. “As beautiful as I imagined,” he whispers, seemingly to himself. You don’t remember that line.

His mouth finds your nipple easily, sucking and nipping as you threaten to come undone under his attention. His fingers are still moving, his thumb on your clit, building the tension in your body until you feel like you’re going to explode. You’re so very close to the edge, close enough that in your pleasure you forget the next part of the story for a moment.

Until his fingers leave you.

“No!” Your head slams back into the wall as you wail, tears welling up in your eyes. Law seems unaffected, pulling back from you as he slowly inserts his fingers into his mouth, savoring your taste. The only sign that you’ve shaken him is the clear strain of his cock under his jeans, desperate to be free.

His fingers leave his mouth with a pop, and he smiles at you, eyes half-lidded. “Did you think it was going to be that easy? That you would just get what you want, no questions asked?”

You whine, the sound filled with genuine despair. The room is silent for a moment as he stares at you, waiting for your next line, and you try to remember the part you’re supposed to play here. You just barely manage to grasp it, breathlessly saying, “I thought you were a better man than to leave a lady wanting.”

He slides off his tank top, revealing his beautiful tattoos to you. “Oh, honey, this isn’t about what you want. It’s about what you need. And how wonderful it’ll be, once you’re so on edge you can barely stand it, and I finally give in to you. Can you imagine it?” He pops the button of his pants next, sensually sliding them and his boxers down to expose his bare hips. “What it’ll feel like, when I’m finally inside of you?”

His cock is finally free, bobbing in the air as it leaks with precum. He looks painfully hard, and you swallow as you briefly imagine it in your mouth. You’d give almost anything to taste him right now, but that isn’t a part of the scene.

“You’ll feel so full, honey. Imagine how good it’ll feel to cum on my cock. Isn’t that worth the wait?”

“God, yes.”

“Good girl. So agreeable.” One hand finds your hips as he uses the other to line himself up. “Are you ready?”

“Yes, god, please.”

He slowly slides in, feeling the drag of every inch of his dick against your walls. He makes a strangled noise at the feeling, burying his face into your neck as he desperately tries to catch his breath. He stops once he’s fully sheathed in you, giving you both a moment to adjust.

And then another.

And another.

“Law?”

You can hear him chuckle against you. “What, darling?”

“Please, Law.”

He pretends to ponder whether or not to give in for a moment, keeping you in suspense, before he relents. He pulls away from your neck, revealing his extremely red face. His voice may be calm, but the rest of him cannot hide the effects you’re having. “What do you want, sweetheart? Use your words.”

You know the line you’re supposed to say next. She tells Sora she wants relief, wants him to move, wants anything that she can have. But you’re soft, and weak, filled with want. You cannot help but think of your dream this morning, what you were denied and what you’ve always wanted. So you speak the honest truth. “I want you to kiss me.”

He stares at you for a moment, eyes searching yours. You see your own want reflected in him, an affection that makes your chest ache. Then a smile blooms across his face, one gentler than you deserve. The line he says next is Sora’s, but what comes after is all Law. “Whatever the lady wants,” he murmurs, before his lips meet yours.

The kiss isn’t fireworks, or an all consuming flame, or any other way you’d ever heard such a thing described. It was tender, it was kind, and most importantly, it was Law. You’d never wanted anything else. It finally confirms to you that this isn’t a dream, that he’s really here, pressing you against this wall, a desire burning in him that only you can satiate. The lust is still here, the heat of your bodies intertwined, but there’s something tender and real beneath it. 

Once you both pull back, panting, you look into his eyes and know the scene is well and truly over. Now it’s just you and Law, breaths mingling and hearts pounding. He smiles at you, a nervous, delicate thing, his confidence left behind with the script. He’s breathless as he whispers, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to do that?”

You let out a soft, unsure laugh. “Is that Law talking, or Sora?”

He brushes his nose against yours. “It’s all me. It always has been.”

You can’t help your lovesick smile, dripping with a saccharine fondness you couldn’t hide if you tried. You meet his lips again, a kiss with a little more fire, a little more desperation. You try to convey everything you can’t say aloud: the years of yearning, the pain of thinking this moment would never come, the euphoria of learning you were wrong. Your hands press against his chest, his pulse fluttering under your fingers in unison with your own. You wrap your legs around his waist, desperate to pull him ever closer. He lets out a soft sound, almost a whimper, at the feeling of your lips against his as you clench around him. His tongue slips into your mouth, and once again the air around you grows ever hotter.

“Can I move?” There’s a whine to his voice. “Please.”

“Please do,” you moan, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your chests together. 

He needs no further instruction, thrusting harshly, hips rutting against yours. You can feel him struggle to hold himself back from pounding into you at a bruising pace. His hands grip your hips, his nails digging in as he clenches his teeth.

“You don’t have to hold back, Law. I’ll take anything you want to give me.”

He struggles to speak through his self control. “I want to enjoy this. I want to take my time.” Another deliberate thrust has you dragging your nails down his back, making him moan in your ear. “I want this to be as good as it can be for you.”

“This is–ahh!–already better than I’d ever dreamed, Law.”

One of his hands moves to your clit, his fingers starting a steady motion. “Not good enough,” he mutters. His lips find your neck, placing open mouthed kisses along its length, his teeth grazing your skin. You feel yourself coming close to cumming again, your voice growing louder, echoing through the room as you babble. You don’t even know what you’re begging for, the words please and more and Law are all you can say, all you can think. There is nothing in the world beyond the feeling of him against you, inside of you, his soft lips and callused hands. 

You expect him to rip away your pleasure again, but when he briefly stills, your babbles turn to sobs anyway. He pulls back to look you in the eye, take in the sight of the tears running down your face, and you can see him soften once again. His hands and hips start moving again immediately as he presses soft kisses against your cheeks, clearing away your tears.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s alright. You’re doing great. I won’t take it from you again, I promise.” His voice is filled with pity. “You’ve been so good, you can take what you want now.” He builds you back up quickly, his hips pressing into yours even faster than before. You can feel yourself about to burst, and you slam your lips into his, moaning into his mouth. The dam finally bursts, and the pleasure nearly blinds you as you clench around him, his hips struggling to keep moving with how tightly your legs are wrapped around his waist. Your orgasm is what finally makes him break, filling you to the brim as his movements stutter.

You bask in the feeling for a moment, both panting and dripping with sweat, his cock rapidly softening inside of you. Your head lolls forward, pressing into his shoulder, and you press a kiss against his sticky skin.

“Was it worth the wait?” He tries to ask the question in a teasing tone, but you can hear the insecurity underneath it.

“It was worth everything and more.” You shift to wrap your arms tighter around him and nuzzle your face into his neck. 

You can feel the rumble of his chest as he chuckles, gathering you up as he slips out of you. “Agreed.” He kisses the side of your head, an action so filled with care it nearly makes you burst into tears again. He tries to lower you onto something, making you pull him closer and whine. “I just need to set you down for a second, sweetheart. I’ll be right back.”

“No.” You sound like a pouting child, making you cringe, but he laughs fondly anyway.

“Alright. A few more minutes. But I have to clean you up eventually, and then we need to find a place a bit more private to settle in, don’t you think? Or at least somewhere more comfortable.”

You hum quietly, pressing your nose further into him. You can worry about logistics in a few minutes. Right now you just want to bask in his warmth, in this dream turned reality, in the absolute joy of your feelings being reciprocated. “I really didn’t think you liked me,” you mutter sleepily. “I’m glad I was wrong.”

“I could say the same,” he murmurs into your hair.

You laugh. “Shachi and Peng are going to be so smug about this.”

“They are?”

“They’ve been trying to tell me for years, and they don’t get to tell me I told you so very often.”

“They were telling you too?” He laughs. “We could have done this months ago if we’d just believed them.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, your eyes starting to slip shut. “You’re worth the wait, though.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as his hand rubs soothing circles on your lower back, luring you further into sleep. “Yeah. So are you.”

Tag List:  @pandora-writes-one-piece @shy-writer-999 @saturogojosgirl @dreamcastgirl99 @tochillwithamockingjay 

[crow-caller]

man... I forgot to mention.

you know how lightlark has gods, but has never once named how many gods there are, what they are gods of, how religion works... it just uses the word 'gods' and there's inexplicably an abbey in the first book?

well, in skyshade we finally learn about gods. Not the gods of lightlark, the gods of the otherworld (if they are the same or related concept, it is not stated)

anyway the gods of the otherworld are um.

Sky, dirt, and below.

(The sky is a place. Dirt is an object. Below is a direction. These three fit together as well as Helios, Urn, and Enya as a trio)

Getting a suspicion this book isn't very good

Lightlark3 is somehow. How do I put this. Worse. The prose is really, really bad, and Aster operates on a baseline of having 'pretty bad prose'

Gee, I wonder if writing and releasing skyshade, plus writing her new adult book, plus a new bonus lightlark book and the 4th due next year... might be resulting in even less editing?

[harrysfolklore]

matchmaker - op81

summary: oscar finds a puppy wandering around the streets of monaco that leads him to meet his lucky charm

folkie radio: AN OSCAR FIC FINALLY OMG!!!! i have to say thank you to @cambrayficsrecs for sending this idea !! i LOVED IT and i hope you like this

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, yourbff and 209 others

yourinstagram meet the newest monaco resident: arlo 🤍 swipe to see the goodest boy helping me settle in my new home 🐾

view all comments

yourbff HE'S PERFECT!! miss you already but so happy for you 😭

username1 the cutest addition to monaco!!

username2 remember when you said you'd never get a dog? 😂

alexandrasaintmleux my new favorite neighbor!!! can't wait for our puppy playdates 🤍

↳ yourinstagram arlo and leo are going to be bffs 🥹🥹

username3 told you moving to monaco was the best decision

username4 i'm visiting asap just to meet this angel

yourbff2 can't believe my best friend lives in monaco now

username5 you're living the dream with the goodest boy!

username6 look at that face!! when can i visit?

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texts between alex and yn

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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 583,827 others

oscarpiastri Enjoyed being a temporary dog dad today 🐾 glad this good boy made it back home safe! might have to get one of my own now...

view all comments

username1 MY HEARTTT

username2 OSCAR YOU CAN’T DO THIS

maxverstappen1 Don't let lando see this

↳ landonorris too late. getting a dog.

mclaren Best teammate and dog sitter 🧡

username3 OSCAR WITH A PUPPY THIS IS NOT A DRILL

username4 the wholesome content we needed today

alexandrasaintmleux arlo already misses his rescuer! thanks again oscar 🤍

username5 get this man a dog asap

username6 the way he took care of a stranger's dog 🥺

username7 okay but imagine oscar with his own puppy

username8 JUST GET A DOG

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yourinstagram has added to their stories

replies:

yourbff ARLO OMG 🥺🥺 what happened to him?

↳ yourinstagram sneaky little minx disappeared from the balcony.. he’s safe tho

username1 omg poor you! good thing you found him

username2 is this knight in shinning armor who saved arlo cute?

↳ yourinstagram STOP 😭

username3 i need to visit so i can meet arlo

alexandrasaintmleux I could give you his insta… or his number 👀

↳ yourinstagram STOP IT ALEX

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texts between alex and yn

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liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 28,724 others

yourinstagram turns out the nice guy who found arlo last week also happens to be pretty good at driving cars 🏎️ congrats on p2! @/oscarpiastri

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username1 GIRL WHAT IS YOUR LIFE RN

username2 you move to monaco and suddenly you're in f1 garages???

alexandrasaintmleux told you you'd love f1 🤍

↳ yourinstagram love you !

username3 OMG OSCAR

username4 SHES THE OWNER OF THE DOG

username5 this plot twist though 👀

mclaren 🧡

username6 the way this all started because arlo escaped

charles_leclerc I won you know? 🤔

↳ yourinstagram congrats charles !

username7 YOUR LIFE IS A MOVIE

username8 the best meet cute ever??

oscarpiastri Couldn't have done it without my good luck charm 🐾

↳ yourinstagram arlo says you’re welcome!

username9 IS THIS THE OWNER??

username10 the cutest storyline of the season

username11 THE WAY HE COMMENTED

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oscarpiastri sent you a direct message

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liked by username1, username2 and 14,826 others

f1gossip Oscar Piastri spotted having coffee with the owner of the now-famous beagle puppy in Monaco this morning 👀

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username1 THE WAY THIS STORY KEEPS GETTING BETTER

username2 from rescuing her dog to coffee dates we love this journey

username3 this is better than drive to survive

username4 THEY’RE SO CLOSE HELLO

username5 this is the cutest thing ever help

username6 the fact that the dog is there too 😭

username7 someone check on lando he's losing his bachelor buddy

username8 the good luck charm strikes again

username9 living a wattpad story fr

username10 HE LOOKS SO HAPPY

liked by oscarpiastri, alexandrasaintmleux and 47,935 others

yourinstagram turns out there's more to monaco than just fancy cars 🤍

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username1 THE WAY YOU MOVED TO MONACO AND IMMEDIATELY LIVING A ROMCOM

username2 OSCAR?????

username3 arlo the ultimate wingman

username4 this storyline keeps getting better

username5 OMFG WHAT IS THIS I NEED THE CONTEXT

alexandrasaintmleux told you he was cute 😌

↳ username1 OMFG ALEX

↳ username2 i love her

↳ charles_leclerc 😂😂😂

username6 need full story time asap

username7 the way this all started because she lost her dog 😭

username8 living for this plot development

oscarpiastri arlo approved ✅

↳ username1 OSCAR STOPPPPP

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yourinstagram has added to their stories

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texts between oscar and yn

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liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 986,033

oscarpiastri Great weekend with the team 🧡 Ready to head back home to Monaco though... missing my favorite good luck charm 🐾"

view all comments

username1 OSCCCC

username2 is he talking about the dog? 😭

landonorris which one? 👀

↳ oscarpiastri 🤫

↳ username1 HELLO???

↳ username3 DECODE THIS

alexandrasaintmleux someone's eager to get back 😌

↳ charles_leclerc Your matchmaking services working well

↳ username1 LET ME INNNN

georgerussell63 The power of puppy love

username3 WE ALL KNOW WHICH GOOD LUCK CHARM

username4 the way he said "home" to monaco 🥺

username5 did anyone else catch him waving to someone on facetime after the race??

username6 some of this comments saying “the dog” his name is ARLO and he’s an icon

username7 i’m going to call it right now oscar is dating the dog owner

username8 OSC 😩

yourinstagram 🤍

liked by username1, username2 and 8,739 others

f1gossipinsider Straight from Barcelona to dinner in Monaco... Oscar Piastri spotted at Le Grill with a certain someone 👀

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username1 THE WAY HE DIDN'T EVEN GO HOME FIRST

username2 man flew straight from barcelona to take her to dinner i'm crying

username3 not me zooming in to confirm it's her

username4 THATS DEFINITELY YN AND ARLO UNDER THE TABLE

username5 fastest post-race exit we've ever seen

username6 Le Grill?? Man's not playing around

username7 our favorite story continues...

username8 this man SPRINTED from the circuit

username9 the commitment >>>

username10 our boy's got his priorities straight

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texts between oscar and yn

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liked by lilymhe, oscarpiastri and 45,099 others

yourinstagram turns out watching someone drive in circles for 2 hours isn't so bad after all 🏎️ proud of you @/oscarpiastri 🧡

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username1 OMGGGG

username2 look at little arloooo

francisca.cgomes So lovely meeting you! Welcome to the family ❤️

yourbff we have soooo much catching up to do

carmenmmundt You're a natural! Can't wait for Hungary

alexandrasaintmleux look who's becoming an f1 expert

↳ charles_leclerc Stop taking credit for this

↳ alexandrasaintmleux never 😌

↳ username1 HELLO??

username3 the WAGs adopting her immediately >>

username4 ARE THEY DATING??

username5 oh what a plot twist

username6 THIS IS GIVING ME LIFE

username7 so the key go getting an f1 driver to date you is getting a dog i see

username8 ARLO IS SO CUTE

oscarpiastri Best good luck charms ever 🤍

↳ username1 OSCAR STOP

↳ username2 i simply cannot do this

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texts between alex and yn

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oscarpiastri has added to their stories

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liked by carlossainz55, yourinstagram and 1,099,832 others

oscarpiastri First Grand Prix Win. Incredible 🧡 Thank you to the two lucky charms who changed everything

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username1 IM CRYING

username2 HELLO TWO LUCKY CHARMS ??

landonorris GET IN THERE MATE!! Proud of you 🧡

alex_albon THATS MY BOY

username3 IS HE TALKING ABOUT ARLO AND YN??

username4 im actually sobbing

username5 man won his first race and chose to be THIS cute about it

username6 SOMEONE SAID HE KEPT SHOWING HER THE TROPHY

georgerussell63 CONGRATS OSCO 🙌🙌

username7 from monaco meet cute to whatever this is im crying

username8 THIS IS ADORABLE OSCAR HELLO

username9 not to be parasocial but he's so in love

username10 THE WAY ARLO WAS THERE FOR HIS WIN

yourinstagram we're incredibly proud of you 🤍

liked by username1, username2 and 10,877 others

f1gossip From first F1 win to celebration dinner - Oscar Piastri living his best life in Budapest tonight! Sources say he couldn't stop smiling and kept calling her "my girlfriend" to everyone 👀

view all comments

username1 OH MY LORD

username2 is this oscar "i don't like pda" piastri??

username3 I CANNOT BELIEVE MY EYES

username4 the way this all started bc she lost her dog...

username5 I NEED THIS TO HAPPEN TO ME

username6 this is how we find out oscar is not single anymore

username7 EVERYBODY SAY THANK YOU ARLO

username8 lord i've seen what you've done for others

username9 the best meet cute in history

username10 THAT SHOULD BE ME

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and 60,826 others

yourinstagram home sweet home with my favorite race winner (and his trophy that he definitely didn't make me pack extra carefully) 🏆✨ still pinching myself about this weekend 🧡

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username1 CRYING

username2 the way we all watched this love story unfold

username3 most precious f1 couple no debate

landonorris Mans giving away his caps now?? love's changed him

lilymhe cutest neighbors ever! dinner tomorrow? 🤍

↳ yourinstagram count on it!

username4 LOOK AT ARLOOO I CANT

username5 i can’t believe oscar has a gf now

francisca.cgomes you two are goals honestly

mclaren Our lucky charm is back home! 🧡

username6 remember when she didn't know what DRS was 😭

username7 she's literally living the dream

username8 how to go from dog mom to f1 wag: a novel

alexandrasaintmleux my biggest masterpiece 🥹

↳ charles_leclerc STOP TAKING CREDIT

↳ alexandrasaintmleux NEVER

↳ yourinstagram arlo was the real matchmaker

username9 HOW DO I GET THIS LIFE

username10 they’re so in love i can’t

oscarpiastri My two favorite things in monaco ❤️

↳ yourinstagram three* don't forget the trophy

↳ oscarpiastri Trophy’s just a bonus 😘

liked by yourinstagram, landonorris and 1,549,022 others

oscarpiastri To the best wingman and matchmaker in F1 - thanks for running away that day in Monaco. Changed my whole life 🐾❤️ (YN says I need to stop spoiling him but look at that face)

view all comments

username1 IM FULL PN SOBBING NOW

username2 ARLOOOOO🥹🥹🥹

alex_albon most successful matchmaker in monaco

mclaren Our honorary team member 🧡

username3 i love one fairytale love story

alexandrasaintmleux YOU’RE ALL WELCOME

↳ username1 alex 😭😭

↳ charles_leclerc you're still not getting credit for this

↳ oscarpiastri It was all Arlo

username4 HE CALLED HIM HIS WINGMAN 😭

username5 from runaway dog to f1 power couple

username6 netflix writing this down rn

username7 cupid who? we only know arlo

nicolepiastri ❤️

username8 most iconic f1 meet cute ever

username9 the real mvp of the season

username10 OSCAR DOG DAD

yourinstagram our matchmaker 🤍

[crushpunky]

drew tells a story about actress!reader

masterlist | actress!reader masterlist

this one’s a bit short, but it was suggested and i thought it was really cute so yk i had to write it. based off of drew’s recent esquire interview <3

“Your audition tape for Queer was a slam dunk, can you tell us what you did for the tape?” Drew read the question card.

“Oh, this is actually a funny story.” Drew laughed to himself, crossing his legs. “The first one I had my good friend Rudy Pankow help me tape it. I usually have my girlfriend help me, but she was shooting at the time.”

“One of the scenes was me in bed, I believe, and so Rudy came to my apartment,” Drew explained, speaking dramatically with his hands, “and I had my camera and tripod set up and I was laying in the bed, kinda sort-of framing myself and he came in was like… ‘so what are we doing’?”

Drew laughed, “and I told him, ‘just trust me, ok, I need your help’. Then, as if it couldn’t get any more suspicious, my wonderful girlfriend, y/n, gets back from shooting and walks into our room to find me and Rudy on our bed with the camera set up.”

“I was like, ‘babe I promise this is not what it looks like, I’m just filming an audition’, but she was already like on the floor, crying and laughing.” Drew grinned at the memory, the site of y/n’s smile and adorable laughter playing in his mind.

“But, I appreciate him for helping me with that… and y/n for not freaking out at the strange site she walked in on.” Drew laughed, flipping to the next card.

“Oh, speak of the devil, your good friend y/n y/ln was quoted saying, ‘Drew is probably the scariest sweetheart you’ll ever meet’,” Drew blushed as he read, “what is it like finding the balance between ‘scary’ and ‘sweetheart’ roles?”

The quote was from an interview when someone asked y/n if she ever felt intimidated or even scared working opposite Drew as the big bad Rafe Cameron on Outer Banks. While the scenes between their characters on OBX would certainly get intense at times, it wasn’t very often she was “scared” of Drew. After all, she knew her boyfriend better than anyone else and knew the big heart hiding behind his imposing exterior.

“Wow, I’d like to thank my ‘good friend’ y/n y/ln for that wonderful quote.” Drew grinned, scratching his jaw bashfully. “Well I certainly like to challenge myself, and y’know depending on where I am, that could come in the form of more intense roles or more grounded or more kinda… soft? I don’t know. Y/n says I need to be in a rom com, so maybe that’ll be the next step after this.”

[here-for-fanart]

JINX REMEMBERS THE TIME LOOPS!

I'm probably gonna get a lot of nay sayers on this, but I don't care. I believe Jinx was fully aware of Ekko rewinding time. Here's why:

We know Jinx is medically enhanced with Shimmer. It has become fully integrated into her system, as we've seen her use it multiple times to move at super fast speeds (especially during a fight).

But it gets even better: She appears to actually glitch through time, when using it. She's THAT fast. Here's a few screenshots that show her partially glitching through time. In a few of them, she almost disappears entirely.

Now, I'm not saying she's physically travelling through time (yet). This isn't teleportation or rewinding; this is simply acceleration. But remember, Ekko himself said he was playing "with inversions on Jayce's acceleration rune", when he discovered the Z-drive. So, Jinx and Ekko's powers are connected, as they are complete opposites of what the other is doing.

So, how does Jinx manage to negate Ekko's travel backwards when she's travelling forward? Well, Shimmer is a substance made for adaptation and survivability during transitions. Hextech (which Ekko's Z-drive and her monkey bomb both use) has been known to have unpredictable results when combined with Shimmer. It's possible the shimmer in her system counteracts the Z-drive naturally, or it adapted to it to prolong Jinx's survivability during the first explosion.

The first time Ekko rewinds Jinx's explosion, she is zipped backwards just like the first time the Z-drive was used. But in the aftermath of this rewind, Jinx looks somewhat confused (indicating she has at least a noticeable case of deja vu, even if she does not fully remember the events).

One might think this is surprise in response to Ekko calling her name. But we know it's not, because she quickly dismisses his presence and goes back to blowing herself up. This is her way of saying, "Okay, my mind is doing a weird thing again but back to business."

NOTE: We don't get to see her initial reaction to the second explosion, but I think the second explosion is where she finally understood something was seriously off.

Because the next time we see her,

She's in experimentation mode. And the fact that she's watching Ekko, means she suspects he's the cause.

If you watch her micro expressions, during the third explosion, you'll see: default curiosity; a narrowing of the eyes, indicating suspicion (right before she pulls the pin); she keeps her eyes open and on Ekko during the explosion and does not blink; then when everything is set back, there's a slight widening of the eyes; her eyebrows raise; then her eyes narrow; before they dart downwards, noticing Ekko's blood and charred state.

[Before you start berating me for "reading too much into it", this is animation. Every single twitch is purposely added.]

After she sees the condition he's in, she knows this is his doing but that he can't keep it up forever. That's why she says "You're too late, Ekko" and goes again. It's too late for talking out her problems anymore. She's just gonna weedle him down, until he gives up.

But then, he says, "It's always a dance with you". Well, now, she's just curious about what the heck THAT means. So, she gives him a second to see if he'll tell her.

That's when Ekko says he's gonna sit there a minute, to see if he can talk an old friend out of blowing them up. And when it's clear he's waiting for her to say something, her mind focuses back on dying. "I'm tired of talking." But! She tries something new again. If he can stop an explosion, maybe he can't stop something else. She falls over the edge.

After this reset, we don't see her expression, but I can only imagine she's thinking through her slowly dwindling options. Then, he says, "Ya know, I learned from someone..." and suddenly, she's back to curiosity. How is Ekko doing it? Is he finally going to tell her?

"No matter what happened in the past, it's never too late to build something new". And that's when she notices the Z-drive and the monkeys. That's not Ekko's style. It's hers.

The next sentence actually doesn't make sense, grammatically, unless you follow it up with the previous sentence. "[It's not too late to build] Someone worth building it for."

And having just been given evidence that there is a good version of her, [There's no good version of me.] one who did fix things [It was something I could fix.], and who made it possible for Ekko to save her [big fat hero], she decides to try one last time.

It's curiosity that keeps her pausing over and over again. Even trapped in depression and suicidal ideation, she's still the girl with a brilliant mind and an inventive spirit.

It's my opinion that Ekko would not have been able to save Jinx, if she was not aware of the time loop situation. It was her curiosity of Ekko's new toy, combined with the realization that she helped build it, that led to her giving life another chance.

Lastly, remember when I said she's not capable of physically travelling through time yet?

Unless Warwick let go of her before the explosion, yes, yes she is. Or at least, she's come as close to it as she's physically able to. Either way, our girl is alive and on her way to a new life.

############################

[Thanks for reading, but don't take this too seriously. It was just some thoughts in my head I needed to get out.]

[misswynters]

Getting married to ekko

short drabble

requested by anon

There was a rare kind of joy that managed to push through the usual grime and chaos. Strings of mismatched lights. Some flickering, others glowing bright, were strung across the open square near the hideout. The firelight children had scavenged scraps of cloth and patched them together to create banners, their uneven stitching adding a charm no fancy Piltie celebration could ever replicate.

In the middle of it all, you stood on a small platform that the Lost Children had hastily constructed. Your dress wasn’t traditional, it couldn’t be. It was a creation, crafted lovingly by Zaunite hands. Pieces of old fabric, some shimmering with oil stains, others dyed in vibrant hues, came together to create something uniquely yours.

Ekko stood opposite you, his usual bravado tempered by something soft and awed. He wore his best—a patched-up jacket you’d once teased him about because he refused to throw it away. But it was clean, and you knew it meant something for him to wear it today. His hair was neatly made, the streaks of white bright against the locks. He had a grin on his face that was wide, even as he tried to play it cool.

Scar, who had appointed himself officiant, stood between you two. His wiry frame looked almost regal in the dim light, though his crooked grin betrayed his usual cheekiness. “Alright, settle down!” he called out to the gathered crowd of children and a few adults who had wandered in, lured by the unusual festivity. “We’re here for somethin’ special tonight. None of your usual fightin’ or stealin’, this is about family.”

The children, sitting cross-legged around the square, erupted in cheers. You caught Ekko’s gaze, and the two of you shared a smile, the kind that spoke of shared dreams and whispered promises.

Scar cleared his throat dramatically. “Now, I ain’t exactly licensed or whatever it is those Pilties do, but who needs paperwork when you’ve got love, right?” The crowd laughed, and he winked at you. “So, let’s get to it. You two got somethin’ to say?”

Ekko took your hands, his palms calloused and warm against yours. His thumbs brushed over your knuckles as he looked at you, his voice steady but soft. “I never thought I’d get to have somethin’ like this,” he began. “Not here, You—you’ve made me believe that we can make anything, even in grimy place. You’re my balance when the world feels too heavy, my fire when it’s too cold. I promise, no matter what comes, I’ll always fight for us.”

You felt your chest tighten, your heart swelling as the words you’d wanted to say fought to escape. “Aww!,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “You’ve shown me that even in a place as broken as Zaun, there’s beauty worth fighting for. You’ve given me hope, and I want to spend every day proving to you that you were right to believe in us. I’m yours, forever.”

The children cheered again, but Scar waved them down with a grin. “Hold on, hold on! We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” He nodded to a group of children at the side, who scrambled to their feet. The youngest among them, a tiny girl with oversized goggles slipping down her nose, held a small wooden box. She marched forward with all the seriousness of someone tasked with an important mission. Ekko knelt to her level, his grin widening as she opened the box to reveal the ring he’d made.

It wasn’t like any ring you’d ever seen. The band was crafted from a piece of scrap metal, polished until it gleamed faintly in the light. Set into it was a shard of green crystal, likely salvaged from some forgotten Zaunite machine. But the real magic was in the delicate etchings along the band—tiny gears and vines, symbols of growth and movement intertwined. It was unmistakably Ekko’s work, a reflection of his resourcefulness and heart.

“You made this?” you whispered, your fingers brushing over the ring as he slid it onto your hand.

“Course I did,” he replied, a hint of bashfulness creeping into his voice. “Nothing else felt good enough for you.”

Scar clapped his hands together, breaking the moment with his usual exuberance. “Alright, lovebirds, that’s it! You’re officially stuck with each other.”

Laughter and applause erupted as the children threw bits of torn paper and confetti into the air, creating a chaotic, colorful storm around you. Ekko pulled you into his arms, his laughter mingling with yours as the two of you spun in the midst of it all.

The celebration that followed was as Zaunite as the ceremony itself. Someone had rigged a broken radio to play static-filled music, and the children danced wildly, their joy infectious. A few of the older kids brought out food, whatever they could scrounge together. As the mismatched feast was laid out on a long, uneven table.

Ekko never strayed far from your side, his hand lingering on your waist or your fingers brushing against his arm. At one point, he leaned close, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “You know, for a thrown-together wedding in the middle of Zaun, this might be the best day of my life.”

You laughed, leaning into him. “Might be?”

“Okay, fine. Is the best day,” he admitted, his grin softening.

As the night wore on and the children began to drift off, Ekko led you to a quiet corner, away from the noise. The lights overhead flickered, casting his face in warm, uneven purple shadows. “Hey,” he said, his tone still soft. “Can’t believe we are official married now!”

You reached up, your hand cupping his cheek. “Unreal that i can officially call you my husband.”

For a moment, the chaos of Zaun fell away, and it was just the two of you. Two survivors, two dreamers, building something beautiful in the midst of ruin. And as he kissed you, the city seemed a little brighter, and the air a little lighter.

note. if there’s any mistakes let me know!

taglist. @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @annybah @niredsw @stqrlxght @kriss-w @marilovz @blkmystery @multiverse-fandoms-2001 @turquoizxe @mishellii @kor-0suu @feelya @theamazingmilli @multim00n @m00nd0v3 @sodavrr @maialublmere @radtragedyarcade @spiderhook @night-fall-moon

banner. @anitalenia

[beautifullilacsky]

"Will you overthinking this?" He asked as we were walking hand in hand in the park.

Me, fully aware I have already started overthinking the moment he mentioned that her friend broke off her relationship: "....... juuup"

"What are you overthinking about? Lets discuss it together, let me help"... I explained how, maybe, now that she is single, she might try to get over a guy by getting under another one. Or maybe, since you guys tall about problems and are pretty close, she turns to flirting now that she is single. "Okay and? Why would I get into that while I have my girlfriend at home? I would say no thank you. Also, I don't think she is the person to do that. I have met her before she was in a relationship, and she also wasn't like this then". Okay, well, .. maybe she will have heard bad things about me and will not like me or she will think I am not good enough for you, or too much, and tell you to break up with me. I mean, I'm in a relationship with you, not with her, but ja, well... He put his arms around me and stopped us from walking on, hugging me from behind. "Sometimes I forget how insecure you can be. Do you really think I'll just break up with you because someone tells me to? And besides, I think you should meet her. She is really kind and everytime I mentioned something, she was always more on the reassuring side." Well, I also thought your other friend was kind.. "..... true. ..... I don't have an argument against that."

"So... if she were to still be in a relationship, would it be okay? .. meh, I feel like that's a bad excuse. "Yeah she is in a relationship anyway" , as if that changes anything. Doesn't that sound like a bad thing to you?" Hmm. Well. Honestly, I felt better when she was in a relationship, assuming it wasn't an u know who typa relationship. It's always a 2 people's decision. And that way, I am at least sure that one side is on the no side (as I said it out loud, I realized how fuckedup it sounded.) "Shouldn't you trust me to already be on the no side?" .... I should, yes. I just don't know what to make of the fact that you told me that you can't promise me that it won't happen again. "That was a year ago" .... "back then I wasn't super sure, and before that I was def not sure. Also, I did not want to force you to trust me (def different exact words from his, buthey, u get the point.). It's been a year." Would you get back to it and say something different now then? "Yes. I am sure that it will never happen again".

And there it was. I know he is a firm believer in actions over words, but sometimes I need words to be sure. He told me that he tells me the truth, and I know he does. Thus, if he tells me, I believe him. So. Maybe this is what I needed to truly get to trusting him again. His word. It's not a signed contract, I know. I can't sue him if his words turn out to be false. Though, I needed this. I needed his faith in himself to make sure it won't happen again. Fuck damn hey. I needed him to believe in himself. If he doesn't believe he will stop it the next time, who am I to believe so? Well well well. Before he left, if our roommate wasn't sitting right next to me, I would've said after he asked me if I'm still okay (for like, the 3th time): "if you say it won't happen again, I trust you." Fuck. And I'd mean it. I feel like I have entered a new reality. One in which it is safe for me to have faith in him. In which, sure, maybe a girl will flirt with him, but I can laugh about it. I can be proud to be with that hotstuff that she can't help but talk to. I can make jokes about it and raise my eyebrows up and down. I can do it all, and enjoy the situation, knowing. Truly knowing. That it doesn't matter at all if the other party is on the "yes-boat". He isn't, and he won't get onto it either. Even if a chance presents itself, he won't even see it as one. He has the set in stone plan to come back home to me. Even if she would get him drunk and touch him all over, ... he will say no. Even if it scares me more with booze, he is still himself. He doesn't get into a crazy trans and turns into a different person with different values. He is still the same person who held my hand as we walked in the autumn colored park, and said that it would never happen again.

It feels like something in me has been freed. As if trust was a fluffy creature within me, which was tied down. His words freed it. It still can't believe that the tiny trust guy is free. That it's safe to stand up now and run and smile and truly trust. It's astonished, grasping for those words that set it free. Wanting to hold them and craving for them to invade its veins with its lightning energy and brightness. May it no longer feel the need to stay on the ground; the ties have been undone. Fuck.

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Don't mind me, just revisiting the plot (again) and dying over this line (again). (These screenshots are going to be abysmal, but you'll get the point).

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

Yeah he's talking about Mythal (earned or not) and Felassan and Lavellan and Varric...but the way it applies to HIM, too, is what absolutely guts me.

Long post ahead...

Solas realizing that Lavellan doesn't care about how others see him or want to use him under the inquisiton, that HIS motivations as he has shared them are enough for her and worth defending against those who would tell him he's something he isn't. Solas, for the first time, being confronted with the realization that one these new elves he does not see himself in will still go to bat for him.

"You came here to help, Solas, I won't let them use that against you."

(Is he duplicitous? Yes. But intent on working against Corypheus? Undoubtedly).

“How would you stop them?”

“However I had to.”

“...thank you.”

Solas grappling with the fact that it wasn't just a one off, that this Dalish woman being faced with "hypotheticals" he's desperately been trying to get her people to entertain is jumping in head first, pushing back and disagreeing with him but never treating him worse for their differences and always admitting when he's helped shape a changing perspective. Solas daring to ask for help and marveling at the fact that he receives it, that the same woman who asked if it might some day be possible to live alongside spirits, who did not immediately shoot down his critique of THE CHANTRY REFUSING TO ACKNOWLEDGE SPIRITS AS LEGITIMATE BEINGS (GAH), who did not laugh at him for saying he preferred their company most days, this woman, is going to drop time and resources during war time preparations to personally help his friend.

And then, when he is too late and has once again failed someone he considers a friend, he disappears within himself, where he has always gone to exact punishment for the weight of the lives he believes he's betrayed. It almost works, too.

Psych. Lavellan doesn't want him to grieve alone, to stare at the place in the Fade where his friend used to be and think of all he should have done differently.

“The next time you have to mourn, you don’t need to be alone.”

“It’s been so long since I could trust someone.”

“I know.”

“I’ll work on it. And thank you.”

And still she unbalances him, accepts him, wants more. Solas is sharing a personality that brings him the closest he has ever been to his spirit form, and it is ENOUGH for her. Existing as he has always dreamt of is all takes to earn her loyalty, respect, and eventually love.

But does she stop there? No. She doesn't chafe at this random apostate who speaks with certainty and unapologetically delves into a past he believes worth preserving, even at the cost of questioning her culture as it currently stands.

The very woman he once thought of as a mistake that HE unleashed upon the world is asking to be a part of his, not because of what he can bring to the table, not because she needs a right hand man, and certainly not because she thinks he has some well of power and intelligence critical to winning over enemies she’s willing to join for "supervisory" purposes (cough cough hi Mythal). She bears the weight of choices that can and will lead to death, to pain, and when it wears on her she relies on him, not for solutions but so that at the end of it all she might smile with someone who knows her heart and the good she tried to do amidst a sea of terrible options. She wants to be known, no inch of her unturned, and worse, she thinks she knows him. But how could she? This is no longer who he is, it is merely the remnants of what he destroyed to make a world at Mythal's whim.

“You’re an admirable man. Not many people know who they are the way you do.”

“Thank you. Both for saying that and…for seeing that. Few in this world can see me instead of just seeing a pair of pointed ears”

She. Sees. Him. Every part he slowly is realizing he wants to be known for and even a few he thought he could hide. And then he gives it all up. Because he woke to a new world where spirits and elves and mages were so far removed from the role they played in Arlathan that it can only be yet another mistake he caused and must fix, never mind the fact that the dwarves have forgotten why they fled underground millennia ago in the first place.

The friend who tore him from the world he loved, urged him to take physical form? She is dead, too, never mind the fact that she ignored his urging for a different path, nevermind that he killed and tore and hurt in her name because otherwise what was losing the part of himself he loved for?

"A spirit becomes a demon when denied its original purpose.”

“It hurts. It always does, but I will survive.”

“You bound it to obedience, then commanded it to kill. That is when it turned.”

He may no longer recognize where the Dread Wolf ends and where Solas begins, but if he gives up now and permits himself the chance to remember, the pain he caused himself and others means nothing, because he did it all for Mythal and in his final discussion with her, regardless of what Veilguard tries to convey, she does not release him from his position as her agent.

And maybe that's part of why I'm so angry, because EVEN BEFORE TRESPASSER, the fragment of Mythal that ends up in Morrigan could have freed him, but she does not.

"I am sorry." He whispers.

"The failure was mine," he tells her, voice trembling. "I should pay the price."

Silence.

And do we get that "what we did, we did together" psuedo-fake ass-absolution, the one that, if given enough time and safety to put himself first he may have realised he doesn't truly need to pursue the things he deserves, that make him feel finally like himself again? No the fuck we don't.

"As am I, old friend." She murmurs.

Looking through the lens of Veilguard, this isn't an apology, it's a condemnation. It's Mythal tormenting him one more time, twisting the knife deeper, agreeing that it is Solas alone who has brought them to this point, who deserves to be punished. And then she reminds him what they are to each other, what he is supposed to be to her. What he must become again.

"It isn't abuse if I ask," Cole says in his personal quest.

"Not always true," Solas shoots back.

So he recommits to the friend he gave up his nature for, he refuses to let himself remember that Lavellan learned the full truth of his identity and still begged him not to mourn alone. Even so, he still cannot quite forget.

Var lath vir suledin. Our love will persevere.

I wish it could, vhenan.

And so he pushes onwards, spending almost a decade denying himself his true nature and regretting that he ever gave it a chance to come through because now he KNOWS that this world is different and a little broken, but it's a world he could be a part of because of the woman and the friends that made a place for him. It is a world that doesn't necessarily need to be restored as much as it might need renovation, but that is not the world Mythal demanded of him when she let him kill a remaining piece of her. And any solution but that means the hurt of taking a body, of hurting the titans, of time and time again being called on by one evanuris to fix a problem they all caused, was for nothing.

And a Pride of that magnitude, that sinister an origin, has a long, long way to fall.

And then that same uppity little shit has the audacity to tell him it's not too late, that he can turn back.

He kills again. He kills again. He kills again.

He kills a friend.

He fails to prevent the Evanuris from wreaking havoc a second time, wrenches another innocent into his war, and when they ask him about the woman he calls vhenan, he feels the mask stifling him begin to suffocate. But he never lets it fall, because to surrender now is to place her broken heart atop the pile of regrets he's been holding up like Atlas crumbling beneath the weight of the world itself. Because he still thinks it selfish to want the things that make him feel like himself again, so they need to be taken off the board entirely.

"To stop now would dishonor those I have wronged to come this far."

If he gives up now, his entire corporeal life has been a betrayal of many, but worst of all, he will have ruined himself for nothing.

But then she's there. A little older, a little sadder, and still looking at him like she did the night he almost broke and instead carefully removed any suggestion that she had ever belonged to anyone but herself.

"Didn't you hear me?" Her every action screams as she kneels to meet his gaze like he did the day he took her arm (another failure, another sacrifice he cannot let be for nothing).

The tombstone in the fade is his greatest fear, but it is not his fate. Why? She will not let it be. It cannot be his din'anshiral if she is not beside him.

Lavellan may not have understood the depth of exactly WHEN Solas first came somewhere foreign and uncertain to help, but she never once failed to keep her promise. She refuses to let his initial desire to do good be held against him any longer. And when she sees him accept that not-quite-absolution-definitely-more-of-a-power-play from the god that saw what he was capable of and molded him into a weapon, she finds her in to make sure he doesn't walk off alone to mourn again, never again will she lose him to the expectations others have of him. No doubt she wants to find a way to sink the fingers of her good hand into that spectral visage and tear it away like he wishes to do to the veil. But she is not here for Mythal. She is here for her heart, and for the man who has been carrying it since the moment her lips met his in the fade ten years ago.

“No orders to kill, no conflict with its nature, no demon.”

She forces him to see that the only remaining betrayal is to lock himself away one more irreversible time. All that's left to lose is the piece of himself he cherishes more than his greatest victories: all that he has to gain comes from making sure the love that was given to him at Skyhold, in the moment where Varric saw all he was capable of and still tried to bring him back home, was not given in vain.

"There is no fate but the love we share." She tells him as soon as Mythal's too-little-too-late platitudes send shudders through his body.

Banal nadas ar lath'ma vhenan.

It will not be so terrible a place, so unforgivable a betrayal if he can finally dare to put himself first. If, unlike that night in Crestwood, he finally gives in not to break, but to make himself whole.

There's a codex entry in Inquisiton about a spirit of wisdom who is summoned by researchers and only after a very pleasant conversation do they realize they made a mistake and never successfully bound the spirit in the first place, that it chose to speak with them of its own accord.

"I am not certain the spirit would have talked so freely had it been shackled at the time," writes the author of the entry.

I keep thinking about this alongside the datamined line of Morrigan saying, "And so, the Dread Wolf is stopped by, of all things love."

But that isn't quite right, is it?

Because in the end, of course the Dread Wolf could only ever freed by, over everything, love.

[writingwithciara]

could be -jack hughes-

summary: y/n and jack are as inseparable as real best friends should be. so much so that even though they're not dating, she is considered a 'wag' anyway

word count: 4.6k

pairing: jack hughes x reader

notes: jack is just precious and so wholesome istg.

masterlist

growing up, jack was always taught to treat women with respect. he was also told that he should pay special attention to the girl in his life that meant the world to him.

and that's what he did with y/n. she was his best friend & had been since the 6th grade. ever since they met, they were completely inseparable.

even when jack went straight from high school to being a professional hockey player, y/n went with him. she figured she could take a gap year then enroll in school in jersey once she found one that was right for her.

it was obvious to everyone that their close friendship bordered on a real relationship but nobody could be bothered to bring it up. especially not when they saw how much they both cared about the friendship and would do nothing to jeopardize it.

jack's rookie season in the nhl was not as great as he expected it to be. he lost more games than he could count and felt like he wasn't living up to his full potential. but he was reminded every night when he came home that no matter how bad he played, he would always have his favorite girl cheering him on.

and given how close they were, most people had a feeling that something or someone would come along and cause a rift in their friendship. and when jack got his first girlfriend since going pro, they were all proven wrong. turns out that the girlfriend didn't like how close he and y/n had been and she gave him an ultimatum. of course he chose y/n, leading people to believe that there was definitely something going on between the pair.

and no matter how many times people put that idea out there, they always shut the thought down and insisted they were always going to be just friends.

but those closest to them knew that was most certainly not true.

everything they did was something an average couple would do. they could deny it all they wanted but it was clear they were destined to be together.

----------

"hey, y/n. are you coming to the game tonight?"

"do you want me to come?"

"always." jack smiled, but immediately became concerned when she didn't smile back. "of course i want you there. do you think i don't?"

"i was just messing with you, jack. of course i'll be there."

"okay good." he kissed the top of her head and smiled. "you almost gave me a heart attack. i can't play without you there."

"no need to worry, darling. i've never intentionally missed a game since the second half of your rookie season and i'm not going to start now."

"i know. i don't know why i thought you weren't coming tonight though."

"you'd miss me too much if i wasn't there." y/n smirked.

"you know me too well." jack chuckled and grabbed his gear. "i'm late for practice. but i'll for sure see you later tonight, right?"

"absolutely. wouldn't miss it." y/n walked with jack to the door. he looked at her bracelet and smiled.

"you're gonna need a whole new bracelet if we win tonight."

"you mean after you win tonight?" y/n smiled and moved the bracelet around. "who picks out the charm this time?"

"i believe it's jesper's turn again."

"oh, sweet. i love the charms he picks."

"what about mine?"

"i love them even more than jesper's. you know that."

"yeah, i know." jack smiled again and grabbed his keys. "alright. see you in a few hours."

"bye." y/n shut the door and examined her bracelet again. jack had bought it for her after he scored his first career goal and told her that every time his team won, he would buy her another charm because he considered her to be his personal good luck charm. after the 10th win, his teammates started taking turns picking out the charms, as they not only believed that y/n was jack's good luck charm, but theirs as well. they never lost when she attended a game so the belief stuck.

a few hours later, y/n grabbed her jack hughes jersey, put on her black jeans and slipped on her red converse. she threw her hair up in a messy bun and didn't bother with any makeup since she never really wore it much anyway.

before she got in the car, she sent a text to both jack and luke, wishing them good luck on the game. luke's reply was just a thumbs up while jack's reply was an entire paragraph. y/n left it open and drove to the arena. when she arrived, she put her phone in her purse, completely forgetting to respond to jack's text.

in the locker room, luke was finishing adjusting his skates when jack sat next to him.

"y/n left me on read, luke. do you think she's okay? what if something happened to her on the way here?"

"i'm sure she's fine. she's the most careful driver i know." he finished lacing the right skate and pulled the left one tighter. "have you tried calling?"

"no. we never call before games. it's a rule."

"you might have to break a rule every now and then."

"okay, fine." jack pulled his phone out and quickly dialed y/n's number. it went to voicemail and jack sighed. "right to voicemail, luke. this is not good."

"relax, jack. she probably just turned her phone to do not disturb so she could focus entirely on the game tonight."

"okay. maybe you're right." jack stood up. "thanks, bro."

"no problem." luke chuckled. "you gotta learn to never doubt me."

"yeah, yeah. whatever." jack rolled his eyes and grabbed his stick. "we got a game to win."

as the boys came out onto the ice, y/n's gaze immediately landed on jack. he looked at her and smiled, thankful that nothing happened to her on the way to the game. he skated around and that's when the thought hit him.

she didn't respond to his pre-game text like she normally did.

the game went on like it normally would, but with jack distracted, he wasn't playing his best. y/n watched as jack took a hit at the end of 1st period. it never should've happened and she was beginning to worry.

she pulled out her phone and went to send him a text, knowing he was gonna check his phone during the break. and that's when she realized she never replied to the paragraph he sent before the game. she felt guilty, as if she was the reason jack was having a bad game.

she typed as fast as her fingers could go, rattling off an extra long apology text, hoping it would make up for earlier.

and when jack was back out on the ice for the second period, he seemed to be playing a lot better than before. the text seemed to have worked.

halfway through the last period, the devils were up by 2. as jack scored, he turned to look at y/n. when he saw her, he smiled.

he was distracted and the other team knew it. so they took this opportunity to slam him in the boards as hard as possible, taking jack out for the last 10 minutes of the game.

as the ref escorted jack off the ice, y/n hurried out of her seat and down to the tunnel. she rushed to the medic's office and watched as he did his routine checkup on jack. when he was finished, he turned to y/n.

"take good care of this one. he's showing signs of a possible concussion and he may be out for a game or two. we have to make sure he'll be okay."

"don't worry. i'll make sure he's fine." y/n smiled as the medic walked out of the room.

"that was a terrible game." jack shook his head slowly. "i screwed up."

"no you didn't, jack. you played great." y/n squeezed his shoulder softly and smiled.

"you and i both know i didn't. i was a mess in the first half of the game and-"

"i know. it was my fault. i should've answered your text."

"what? no. that's not why i wasn't focused. okay well maybe a bit. but i wasn't mad. i was scared. the last text i got from you before the game was that you were on your way here. and when you didn't reply to my text, i thought something bad happened to you. i wouldn't know what to do without you."

"don't worry. i'm right here."

"good." jack looked up at her and smiled. neither of them knew why they began to lean in but when their lips were about to touch, luke walked into the room, causing them both to jump apart. luckily luke didn't see anything.

"hey. we won the game but i wanted to come see you. how are you doing?"

"i'm alright. might have a concussion and may have to sit out for a game or two. but i'm fine."

"do you need me to stay tonight and keep an eye on you?"

"no thanks, luke. i appreciate the offer but y/n is gonna be there. she lives with me, remember?"

"right. are you sure there's not another reason she's living with you? like, say, maybe you guys are more than friends?" luke raised his eyebrow.

"oh yeah. i sleep with jack every night and he's sooo good. and oh my god. the size is just-" y/n smirked when luke interrupted her.

"i was kidding. i really didn't need to know any details. gross." he shook his head and left the room. jack couldn't help ut laugh at his brothers reaction.

"you know he's gonna tell the rest of the team, right?"

"let them believe what they want. only we know the truth." she winked at him and grabbed his stuff. "now let's get going. i hear my bed calling me."

"you're so dramatic." he chuckled and followed his best friend out to her car. "it's a good thing i got a ride here with luke this morning."

"yes it is. now you can be my little passenger princess this time, instead of the other way around."

"ha. ha. very funny."

"i know i am." y/n smiled and started driving back to their apartment. "how's the head feeling?"

"little rough. but i'll be fine, i promise. you don't need to worry." jack reached over the center console and squeezed her leg gently.

"i always worry about you." y/n kept her eyes on the road but when jack moved his hand, she felt like her leg was on fire.

"i know. and i appreciate it. a lot." jack smiled and got out of the car when she parked. he hurried over to her door and opened it for her.

"thanks, jack. but i could've done that on my own."

"i'm showing my appreciation."

"jack, there are other ways to show your appreciation." y/n smiled and walked to their door. jack was frozen in his spot as he watched her walk inside. before the door shut, he rushed in behind her.

"hold up. just wait a second." he sat down on the couch and looked at y/n. "what other ways can i show my appreciation?"

"by getting me a new charm for my bracelet since your team won." y/n smirked. "did you think i meant something else?"

"what? no. of course not." jack shook his head rapidly, causing y/n to continue smirking.

"oh my gosh. you totally did!"

"well, i kinda thought that we could talk about what almost happened back in the medic's office before luke walked in."

"jack, it was a slip up. heat of the moment situation. it never should've happened."

"it didn't happen. but i agree. heat of the moment." jack sighed and looked at her. "you're my best friend and i love you. but what didn't happen is not going to change us, right?"

"of course not." y/n smiled and headed to her room. jack watched her close the door and let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding.

it was going to change everything.

❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤❤

over the course of the next few weeks, the dynamic between y/n and jack had shifted. everyone noticed immediately but it took jack and y/n a little longer to catch on.

it wasn't drastic enough where y/n felt like she had to move out. but she no longer felt like jack wanted to spend every minute with her like he normally had in the past.

his attitude changed and he slowly became less of the happy guy he always was, and more of a moody one instead. he was getting into fights more often than not & he was bringing girls home with him almost every night.

he would ignore y/n when she would greet him and each time he did, y/n felt like he was chipping away a piece of her heart. it was starting to become an issue for her and she didn't know what to do.

until an 'angel' knocked on the apartment door one afternoon.

y/n was home alone, getting ready for the last regular season game, when she heard the knock. she got up and looked through the peephole.

"nico? what are you doing here? shouldn't you be at the arena practicing for the big game?"

"i should be. but i think we need to talk."

"what about?" she held the door and looked at her friend. "what's going on? is everything okay?"

"with me? yeah. with jack? no."

"what do you mean?"

"you've noticed the changes recently, yes?"

"of course. i notice a lot." she shook her head. "what about his changes?"

"it's messing with his playing."

"meaning?"

"he used to be the best player on the team but for the last 4 weeks, he's been different. his points haven't gone up and his skill level has declined. he still ranks fairly high in the league but it's nowhere near where he deserves to be." he sighed. "i need to know what happened between you guys."

"why do you assume something happened?"

"because i know you guys better than you think i do. and the dynamic between you has shifted since he got the concussion a month ago. so what happened? did jack say something to upset you, or vice versa?"

"no. at least, i don't think so. and to be honest, i have no idea what really happened. the night he got the concussion, we came home and things were fine. but when i woke up the next morning, it was like the jack hughes i know and love was replaced by someone else."

"so jack is the only one to know why he's been acting so weird?"

"i guess so." y/n looked at her phone. "you should get going. the team's gonna need their captain before the game."

"yeah, you're right." he went to walk away but stopped. "are you coming to the game?"

"yeah. i'll be there. there's just something i need to do first. see you later." she shut the door slowly and walked into jack's room. it looked pretty much like it always did. it was a little bit messier than normal but that's how jack tended to keep it.

as she was about to walk out, she saw a gift on the floor by his bed. there was a tag attached to it that had her name printed neatly on it in jack's handwriting. she picked it up and took it with her to the car. she needed an explanation and was determined to get one, even if jack didn't want to give it to her.

when she parked at the arena, she climbed out of her car and ran inside quickly. there was still a little while before the game started but the fans were already filing into their seats. the team was skating around the ice doing their warm ups but jack was nowhere to be found. and neither was nico.

y/n was about to send nico a text, telling him she had arrived, but when she looked up, jack and nico were skating onto the ice. nico waved when he noticed her but jack hadn't seen her yet so she would have to wait to talk to him.

the first half of the game was brutal for the devils. they were down by 3 at the end of the second period, not having scored a single goal yet, and they were looking at a complete shutout,

y/n watched the team skate off the ice and sent a text to nico, letting him know she was on her way down to the locker rom to talk to jack. she couldn't wait another second.

as she got to the room, the rest of the team was walking out slowly. nico was last and he stopped her.

"um, just a heads up but he's not in a great mood and he's blaming himself for what's happened so far in the game. hopefully you can work your magic on him like you always do."

"yeah, hopefully. good luck out there." she smiled and stood in the doorway to the locker room. jack was pacing back and forth with his head down so he didn't notice her and he was mumbling to himself. she knocked lightly on the door to get his attention. "jack?"

"huh?" his head shot up and they made eye contact. "w-what are you doing here?"

"i came to see my best friend play kick some ass and make it to the playoffs tonight."

"that's not gonna happen so you can go home if you want. i don't want to disappoint you when we lose."

"you're not going to lose, jack." she took a step into the room and the air felt thick.

"we haven't scored once this game and there's 20 minutes left. i highly doubt we're coming back from this." he shook his head. "and it's all my fault."

"no it's not. it's a team game, jack. it doesn't depend on just one person. you know that."

"if i hadn't played so badly this last month, we'd already be guaranteed a playoff spot. but this game is the make or break one."

"what's gotten into you? where's the best friend who is always full of spirit and determination? the one who never wants to give up, no matter how hard a task may be?"

"he's a total mess who can't get his shit together. he's lost hope for a lot of things in his life and he doesn't know how to get back to his normal self again."

"when did things change?" y/n took a seat beside him on the bench. "was it before or after the concussion?"

"the same night." he sighed. "i felt the change after we got home."

"was it something i did that maybe upset you?" y/n looked at him but he didn't answer. "jack, please talk to me. i want to help you in anyway that i can."

"do you really think that our almost kiss was just a slip up? a heat of the moment thing?"

"what?"

"just tell me the truth, please?"

"i've known you since the 6th grade and not once did i ever think about kissing you. you've been my best friend since i met you so yeah. it was a heat of the moment thing." y/n looked up to find jack staring at her.

"i feel the same way. or at least i thought i did." he sighed. "i had never thought about kissing you before and have had no romantic feelings towards you since we became friends. but that night, when you didn't answer my pre-game text, i was scared something happened to you. and you already know that. but as i was freaking out, i started thinking about why i was reacting that way. i realized that i never wanted to experience life without you. and then when i saw you and saw that you were alright, my heart nearly exploded with happiness. i thought i lost you but you were there, in front of me, and these brand new feelings became overwhelming for me." jack took another breath. "that night when you told me it was a slip up, it hit me that you didn't feel the same way about me. so i started giving you space because it felt like what was best and i realize now that it was a mistake to do that. because without you by my side, i fell apart real fast. i screwed up by almost kissing you and if it was possible, i would turn back time and stop myself. i never intended for things to end up this way. and i am so sorry i disappointed you."

"you could never disappoint me, jack. you're my favorite person in the entire world. and yes, i thought it was a slip up that night because i had never thought about kissing you before. but when you were giving me that 'space', it gave me time to think about what almost happened and i have come to the realization that it wasn't a heat of the moment situation. i realized that i can't live my life without you. truthfully, i love you jack. i never really thought about it before but now i know."

"so all that space was a dumb idea, huh?"

"of course, dummy. but maybe things can be different now. we can get back to how things were before the concussion." y/n took his hand. "but with an added bonus of love."

"that sounds like a good idea." he went to kiss her but she stopped him.

"wait. i almost forgot the main reason i cam back here."

"what's that?"

"i found this in your room." she pulled the gift out from her purse and handed it to him. he turned it around in his hands and smiled. "what is it?"

"as ridiculous as this might sound, it's a book." he let out a chuckle.

"a book?"

"yeah. but not just any book." he smiled. "this book is special and i was intending to give it to you for your birthday but i didn't know if things would be back to normal or not." he looked up at her. "go ahead. open it."

y/n carefully unwrapped the book and stared at the cover. a little cartoon version of herself with jack stared up at her with the title my best friend written in shiny silver letters. she flipped through the book and smiled with every page she read. it was a story book of her life, before and after she met jack. it was illustrated so perfectly and each hidden detail throughout the book made her eyes water. "jack , i love this so much."

"i figured you would. but i'm glad you do." he looked at her. "did you see what was taped to the back cover?"

"no." she flipped to the back cover and taped to the inside was a little swan charm. y/n carefully pulled it off and smiled. "seriously, jack. you didn't have to do this."

"well i wanted to. i needed to show you how much you mean to me but with everything you've ever done for me, the book and the charm are not going to be enough."

"jack, they're more than enough. they're perfect." she looked at him. "you're perfect."

neither of them hesitated to place their lips together. they fit perfectly together, just like everyone knew they would. jack held y/n's face as he deepened the kiss. her hands held his wrists as they slowly pulled apart.

"okay, my team is waiting for me. i've got a game to win." he stood up quickly. "i love you."

"i love you too. now go out there before they start to worry." y/n laughed as jack rushed out to the ice. she slid the book back in her purse and made her way back to her seat just in time for the final period to start.

30 seconds in, jack scored a goal and the fans went nuts. his teammates all hugged him and nico looked up to where y/n was sitting, knowing she really did work her magic on him.

there was 5 minutes left in the game when nico passed the puck to jack, who scored another goal, putting the game at 3-2 for nashville.

with 2 minutes left, it was looking like they were going to lose. but luck must've been on their side because curtis somehow got the puck to jack. he took it and sped down to the other end of the rink, shooting it right into the net to tie the game.

and when the buzzer went off to signal the end of the game, everyone on the team was excited. they were congratulating jack as they made their way to the bench.

"whatever you're doing, keep it up. that was an excellent third period." curtis high-fived him and walked down the tunnel. both jack and nico shared a look and their eyes went to y/n in the stands. she waved to them and they smiled.

"she must've worked her magic real hard on you to get such a turn around like that."

"yeah. something like that." jack smirked and took a drink from his water bottle before spraying some down the back and front of his jersey. he knew he was a great player but even he was impressed with how fast he shifted the game.

overtime started not long after their conversation and even though nashville was playing hard, new jersey was playing harder. their team dynamic was so much stronger than it was before.

with the clock ticking down and jack with the puck, the win was in sight. but the nashville players were not letting it go that easily. all the players on the ice chased jack and nearly cornered him. one slammed him into the side, causing him to lose his balance and fall. they all looked for the puck, believing that he would've given up the possession when he hit the ice.

but he did that before he went down. he passed the puck to jesper, who was not being defended. luckily nobody saw that pass. jesper took off back towards the nashville net and hit the puck as hard as he could, sending it flying towards the goal.

everyone watched with baited breath as the puck moved faster and faster towards the net. when it hit the back and the buzzer went off, everyone cheered. the devils were going to the playoffs.

y/n made her way down to the tunnel to wait for the team. nico had a feeling that's what she would be doing so he made sure jack was at the end of the line.

as they passed by, y/n congratulated the guys on the big win and continued to wait for jack. when she saw him, she couldn't help but throw herself into his arms. he was shocked but he held her tightly.

"that was incredible, jack. i told you you were going to win."

"i couldn't have done it without you and our talk."

"well, you could've. but i'm gonna take the credit where i can get it." she smiled. "go get changed so we can go home and celebrate."

"yes ma'am."

things were going to be okay. they were gonna make sure of it.

[fucked-up-mover-shaker]

ive said this once and i will say it again, grady is the most nuanced character in KOTLC. Purely from just how he is written in canon- there is so much we can draw from his character with little inference.

On the one hand, you have a walking tragedy: he manifested one of the rarest and most dangerous abilities in the lost cities at a young age, he lost his daughter to her fiance, (if we're talking theory, he may have been in the neverseen), you can't help but feel sympathy for him.

But then- you realize something terrifying.

Gisela and Vespera are right.

Grady is the most ruthless elf in the lost cities.

But he's also one of the kindest.

Despite the danger it poses, he and Edaline adopt the Moonlark, they put themselves at risk. Despite everything been through, they willingly give their love to a girl who needs it. That is one of the kindest acts someone can pull off.

However, as alluded to earlier, there's another side to him. Despite how concerned, kind, and thoughtful he is; he is also vengeful, impulsive, and distrusting.

Let's look at Everblaze again. Partially because it's the best example of his darker nature, partially because I have it on hand right now, partially because it is my favorite book in the series.

In Everblaze, Grady's vengeance and impulse is seen in full. Take King DImitar, for an example. Sophie was going to be taken away; and Grady jumped in. He believed it to be the right thing to do; and believe me it was, but there is a dark tone to it. A feeling of impulse; that he wasn't truly thinking at the moment. And he almost violated the treaty, if it wasn't for the Councillors coming to his defense.

This scene serves as subtle foreshadowing for later and sets up something very important about Grady:

He could kill someone if he wanted to. And he knows that.

But what could push him that far? Well, there is an answer to that, an answer we later find out:

Jolie's death.

When he finds out the true circumstances to Jolie's untimely demise, his sheer ruthlessness is demonstrated. There's a deeper level to this however, it is his underlying fear of being taken advantage of showing to its surface.

Brant took advantage of Grady and Edaline, and that is the biggest injustice to Grady. Because it's what he has been fearing, it's why he had closed himself off to the world.

That fear causes the sheer level of terror that is caused in Grady. Terror that builds into his impulses, which causes him to go out to find Brant, with intent to kill.

That's why he doesn't want Sophie to come with, he doesn't want his daughter to see the monster he was about to become.

The monster he believes himself to be.

It's not just Everblaze, but a feeling that permeates his character and his choices.

His distrust of Keefe stems from two things:

The similarities he sees between himself and Keefe (the sense of humor, the blond hair, and later in the books; the ability of control).

How that, in a way, is all Grady has ever known.

Elves manifest young. Meaning that he has spent a majority of his life being distrusted by his peers, as well as distrusting the world and fearing someone would take advantage of him.

So when there's a talented but terrified young kid that needs his helps; whether through adoption or through training, he obligies.

Why?

Because he sees himself so much in that situation. Because of that deep feeling of kinship, he feels a need to take care of people in that situation.

Grady's empathy trumps his distrust.

And that's why he starts helping Keefe. That's why he adopts Sophie.

tl;dr: grady's character absolutely FUCKS why does no one talk about this???

also he is hotter than hell and i will fight people on this

[acourtofchaos]

I SWEAR THE DAY I DON'T HAVE HEART PALPITATIONS AND WITNESS MY SOUL ASCENDING OVER YOUR WORK IS THE DAY I HAVE PASSED FROM THIS WORLD.

HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR MY MANY SILLY RAMBLINGS UNDER THE CUT

FIRSTLY THIS,

So when you pushed open the door to the room of requirement a little over ten-minutes later, you hadn't been sure what you were expecting to find. Something darker, maybe. More foreboding. But when the room revealed itself before you—silent, draped in soft moonlight that pooled over the bed with a window wide and open, spilling that pale silver fog across the floor—you almost laughed.

IS GORGEOUS. I LOVE THE EXPECTING OF SOMETHING DARK AND IT BEING SO LIGHT INSTEAD. AND LIKE IT BEING A PERFECT MIRROR OF MATTHEO AND HOW THE EXPECTATION OF THIS NIGHT BETWEEN THEM COULD BE. JUST HONESTLY BEAUTIFUL.

SECONDLY, YOU KNOW I ALWAYS ADORE YOUR CHARACTERISATION OF MATTHEO AND THIS IS NO DIFFERENT.

He turned, finally. His eyes met yours and you saw it—the hesitation, the way his gaze moved over you, slow, cautious. He took in the way the light draped itself over your shoulders, moving lower—and it was as if for the first time, he allowed himself to see you fully, all the details he had so tried to ignore, now right in front of him. He drank them in.

AND

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

I LOVE THAT HE'S NERVOUS, THAT DESPITE HIM BEING ESSENTIALLY IN CONTROL OF THIS SITUATION GIVEN THAT HE HAS THE EXPERIENCE, HE'S NOT ACTING CONFIDENT OR SMUG. HE'S UNSURE AND I LOVE THE SENSE OF VULNERABILITY.

"I'm not hesitating," he muttered, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this with you. His best friend's little sister. He wanted to give you every chance to stop this, to walk away. "Just trying not to rush this—rush you."

I JUST WANT TO HOLD HIS PRETTY FACE. I LOVE PATIENT MATTHEO.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"My choice," you interrupted, pressing closer, your body flush against his, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his belt. "My virginity is mine to give, Mattheo. And I want to give it to you."

He shuddered, your words settling, sinking into the dark space that held you both captive. His hand found your hip, the other threading through your hair, gently tugging your head back to expose the soft skin of your neck."You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

I AM OBSESSED OVER THE WAR WITHIN MATTHEO, THE WAY HIS BODY AND HIS ACTIONS DISREGARD HIS WORDS AND HIS FEAR. I LOVE HER CONFIDENCE IN HER DECISION AND HOW MUCH IT EFFECTS HIM TO HEAR IT.. AAAAAAA SLDKFJDJS GOD I WANT TO MARRY YOU'RE WRITING (and you)

—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

THE FUCKING SWITCH HERE OMG

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked.

His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

FERAL MATTHEO. FERAL MATTHEO. FERAL MATTHEO. I'M SCREAMING. HOWLING. CLAWING AT THE WALLS. I'D LET THIS MAN TEAR ME TO PIECES WITHOUT HESITATION.

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" He smirked, lips falling to your neck, tongue tracing the places he knew would wreck you, each soft, wet press making you whimper despite yourself. "You don't care about anything else..." his fingers slipped lower, dipping between your folds—and you cried out, shameless, the sensation unlike any other you'd ever felt. "…not the consequences, not the risk...you just want me…”

I FEEL CALLED OUT.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" He chuckled your name against your neck, lips brushing a path to your ear. "Because you might fall in love with me?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your lobe, along your jawline. "Oh wait...you already have."

DAMN FUCKING RIGHT I HAVE YOU SEXY BITCH. GODDDD I KNOW I'VE ALREADY SAID IT BUT YOU JUST WRITE MATTHEO SO PERFECTLY. TO HAVE HIM BE SO FUCKING COCKY DURING SUCH AN OVERWHELMING MOMENT. HE'S A LITTLE SHIT AND I LOVE HIM FOR IT.

His face was a storm—flushed, eyes half-shut—but at your voice they opened and flicked down to yours, and for once, there was no arrogance, no mockery in that stare. Just raw, primal need, burning so fiercely it made you ache. His hips rocked, desperate for more. Painfully. A hole in his chest torn wide open for you to see, and he didn't care. Couldn't care.

THIS!!!!!!! THE IMAGERY!!!!! JUST ALL OF HIS DEFENCES BLOWN AWAY, I LOVE IT SO MUCH

His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning.

I'M SOBBING, THE INTENSITY BETWEEN THEM. I CANT BREATHE.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

JUST PUNCH ME IN THE HEART WHY DONT YOU.

His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

You could feel it; the vulnerability of this moment stretched between you both—the distance you'd maintained for so long, the careful walls you'd built, were nothing now. He was in too deep, and so were you.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't.

EM WHAT THE HELL, I DIDNT EXPECT TO BE AN EMOTIONAL WRECK OVER A VIRGINITY LOSS FIC AT 11AM. GOD THE SOFTNESS IS MAKING ME ACHE.

It was overwhelming—the fullness, the ache that felt like it might split you in two. And yet, beneath the pain, something else stirred. His words, soft and rough all at once, made the sensation bearable, turned the hurt into something else. You focused on his voice, on the way he stroked your hair, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

OKAY I'M GOING TO STOP THERE OTHERWISE I'M JUST GOING TO BE PUTTING THE WHOLE FIC IN THIS REBLOG WITH MY SILLY LITTLE ANNOTATIONS. I'M OBSESSED WITH THIS, I LOVE THAT DURING IT HAPPENING THERE'S BARELY A SENTENCE WITHOUT THEM NEEDING TO GASP FOR BREATH, THE INTENSITY OF IT IS JUST PORTRAYED SO WELL. YOU REALLY ARE A MASTER OF YOUR CRAFT AND I'LL BE WORSHIPPING THIS FIC IN MY HEAD FOR WEEKS.

LOVE IT AND LOVE YOU 🖤

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 4th. mattheo - virginity loss / corruption kink.

PART TWO | kinktober masterlist. | 2024.

summary: pls read part one first for a lil buildup. also. im laughing at myself bc there was a perfectly good bed…right there…

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, virginity loss, PIV, so much dirty talk, so much patience from mattheo, (more of a realistic virginity loss bc it’s not always easy), praise!!!!, slight degradation, fingering, multiorgasm, handjob, best friends lil sister trope.

Mattheo Riddle was so accustomed to this. The pulse of adrenaline in the dead of night, the quiet hum of anticipation stretching every second longer than it needed to be. You weren't naive to that, not to him, nor the danger he carried so effortlessly in his stride. He wore it like a second skin.

But you—you were not accustomed to it. Not to any of this.

So when you pushed open the door to the room of requirement a little over ten-minutes later, you hadn't been sure what you were expecting to find. Something darker, maybe. More foreboding. But when the room revealed itself before you—silent, draped in soft moonlight that pooled over the bed with a window wide and open, spilling that pale silver fog across the floor—you almost laughed.

Too perfect. Too on the nose, like the castle itself had been watching you both for months and had decided this was the moment it would indulge you.

"You're late." Mattheo's voice cut through the quiet.

His back was to you, suit jacket discarded on an old oak desk against the wall, dark curls falling just above his collar as he stood by the window, eyes fixed on the lake. The moonlight made the ripples dance, just like the tension in the room.

You took a step toward him, silent.

He turned, finally. His eyes met yours and you saw it—the hesitation, the way his gaze moved over you, slow, cautious. He took in the way the light draped itself over your shoulders, moving lower—and it was as if for the first time, he allowed himself to see you fully, all the details he had so tried to ignore, now right in front of him. He drank them in.

You gave him a small, nervous smile, hoping it would ease the weight of his stare. "I didn't realize you were the type to keep track of time."

He moved closer, but not close enough. Not yet. His breath was tight, chest rising and falling too fast. The space between you felt like a chasm, though it was barely there at all.

"You've a lot to learn, little girl," he teased, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though it did nothing to mask the conflict in his eyes. It was meant to disarm you, but it only made the air heavier. His jaw tightened. "You're sure about this?"

"Quite sure," you breathed, stepping closer, close enough to admire the sharp line of his jaw, the soft stubble. "You're the one who's hesitating."

"I'm not hesitating," he muttered, though the roughness in his voice betrayed him. He knew he shouldn't be here, shouldn't be doing this with you. His best friend's little sister. He wanted to give you every chance to stop this, to walk away. "Just trying not to rush this—rush you."

You let out a small huff, your hand moving up to find his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. Mattheo Riddle was nervous.

"You've been making me wait for months," you whispered. "I don't think a little rushing would hurt."

He swallowed hard, his eyes locked on your hand as it trailed over his chest, lower, teasing. Every touch was a flame against his skin, every breath between you a match struck in the dark. He wanted you, more than anything, but the weight of it—the wrongness, the danger—clawed at his conscience.

His hand caught your wrist, intending to stop you, but his fingers lingered against your skin. Frozen.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he muttered, the words thick in his throat. "Your first time should be—"

"My choice," you interrupted, pressing closer, your body flush against his, your lips brushing his jaw as your hand slid lower, teasing the edge of his belt. "My virginity is mine to give, Mattheo. And I want to give it to you."

He shuddered, your words settling, sinking into the dark space that held you both captive. His hand found your hip, the other threading through your hair, gently tugging your head back to expose the soft skin of your neck.

"You’re not thinking straight," he rasped. "You'll regret this..."

But even as he said it, his hands tightened, pulling you impossibly closer.

"I'll regret nothing." Your fingers slipped lower, grazing his crotch, moving with nothing but instinct and need. Biting your lip, you felt the outline of him, hard and aching under your palm, and squeezed—he grunted, snapping his hips, and you throbbed. "Shit, Mattheo..."

"You are—fuck..." Mattheo's voice was a ragged breath, the words drawn out like he'd been holding them back for months. "...such a little tease."

You let go as quickly as you'd squeezed, and he growled against your skin, fingers tightening in your hair. Your hands found his face, pulling him in, crushing your lips to his. You moved with intent, pushing him back until his thighs hit the edge of the desk, and he groaned again—this low, guttural sound that sent a thrill through you.

You smirked into the kiss, tasting his frustration, savouring the way his defences cracked open. When you pulled back, his chest was heaving, lips swollen, eyes dark with want.

"I learned from the best," you whispered, teasing as your fingers slid down, finding the buckle of his belt. He watched you, every breath uneven, as you worked at the latch, pulling the leather free. "You've had months of fun tormenting me," you continued, moving to the button, the zipper. "Kissing me, only to say it was a mistake. Grabbing my ass every chance you could. Talking sweet when my brother wasn't looking..." your smirk deepened, and you looked up at him through your lashes. "...it's my turn now."

His pants sagged around his hips as you undid them and he cursed under his breath—his brain was struggling to catch up, like he couldn't believe the sudden shift, couldn't quite fathom the boldness with which you undid him.

Until—his hands were on you, spinning you around, your back hitting the desk with a thud.

"You think you're in control here?" His fingers slid up your hips, dragging your dress along with them, baring your skin to the cool air. "You think you have any goddamn idea what you're doing?"

You shuddered—you'd never seen him like this before—there was something feral in the way he moved, now, something sharp in the way his hands worked. His thumbs hooked around your panties and in one swift motion, they were gone—torn down your thighs before he urged you back onto the desk, parting your legs with his torso.

You were breathless, chest heaving, pulse thrumming wildly. His presence consumed the room, and for a moment, it was all you could focus on—the intensity of him, the raw, unfiltered hunger in his eyes.

You stared up at him, mind empty, until—

Smack.

His palm came down on your inner thigh, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to send a jolt of sensation straight to your cunt. Your skin stung from the contact, but that wasn't the part that made you gasp. It was the heat, the way it surged through your veins, flooding your abdomen in a slow, aching pulse. You liked that.

"I asked you a question." His lips brushed against your ear, breath warm as he leaned in. "Two, actually."

You couldn't think, mind swimming—the press of his body, the rough timber of his voice, the weight of his hands as his fingers teased, climbing higher, brushing closer to the ache between your thighs. You sucked in a breath, trying to recall what he'd asked, trying to focus anything but the fire he was lighting in you—

But then, his fingers slipped further, closer, just barely brushing your slit, and your hips jerked involuntarily, chasing that touch.

"No—I don’t—“ the shame in the answer barely mattered. His fingers were so close, so close. "Gods—I just know I want you—"

"That's all you think about, isn't it?" He smirked, lips falling to your neck, tongue tracing the places he knew would wreck you, each soft, wet press making you whimper despite yourself. "You don't care about anything else..." his fingers slipped lower, dipping between your folds—and you cried out, shameless, the sensation unlike any other you'd ever felt. "…not the consequences, not the risk...you just want me…”

Your nails dug into his back and he sucked in a breath through his teeth, wetting his fingers in your arousal before gliding back up to your clit and tracing over it.

"Oh—Gods—" you whinged, moaning into his shoulder.

Mattheo’s hands were experienced—that much was certain. Those fingers knew exactly how to move, precisely how to trace light, delicate circles over your clit that made you twitch, squirm— nerves stripped as you took in the new sensation. It wracked every inch of you, and you could feel him savouring your helplessness, drawing out every ounce of tension that had been building between you for months.

“You’re soaked.” You could hear the disbelief in his voice. “...filthy little thing for me, aren't you?"

"Gods, Mattheo, yes—" your eyes rolled, thighs twitching against his hand. "I am—ohh—"

"Yeah?" His tongue traced a slow, wet path up the side of your neck, teeth dragging over your pulse. "You like this?"

His words were enough to make you want to scream, but no sound formed—just a low, broken moan that spilled from your throat, raw and shameless.

"Answer me," he murmured. "You ever orgasm from this before? Hm?"

"No—" your voice choked, trembling as you squeezed your eyes shut, unable to look at him, something like shame pooling in your stomach. "Oh, fuck—"

"No, what?" His fingers pressed harder, circles growing faster, more insistent, and his voice—Christ, his voice— "I asked you two questions, little slut. Keep up. You wanted this."

"Yes—mmf—I like it—" you whined, the words a desperate spill from your lips, too flustered to form anything coherent. "And no—Gods—you're the first to...to touch me like this..."

He figured as much but the admission tore through him nonetheless, his teeth sinking into your shoulder with a groan—not enough to hurt, but enough to leave a mark, a bruise, a reminder. His hand dipped lower, a finger pushing inside you without warning, pressing deep into your slick heat, and you cried out, your body tightening, pulsing around him, vision swimming.

"And this?" His voice was a smirk against your skin. "You let anyone else inside you like this?"

You knew he already knew the answer. You both did. He was reveling in it—the way he had you, trembling, helpless. You'd never heard him like this, never heard him so crass, so unfiltered, and the way he spoke made your whole body flush with heat.

"No." The word was a strangled moan, barely a breath. "Gods—Mattheo—you already knew that—"

He crooked his finger inside you, and your back arched, the stretch unfamiliar yet mindnumbing, his thumb working your clit. You felt teeth nipping at your earlobe, a hum into your eardrum—his body thrumming with the satisfaction of finally, finally letting himself have you where he wanted.

"Perhaps I did." He added another finger, curling them inside you, his teeth scraping along your neck in a smile. The groan that slipped from your lips was desperate, pained in its pleasure, your body reacting to every new inch of him. "Fucking hell—you can barely take two..."

Your head shook, words failing you. "Gods—Mattheo—I...fuck..."

A low grunt rumbled from his chest, his fingers moving quicker, slick with the evidence of your desire. "Feels good?"

"Yes—" you moaned, breath hitching, vision blurring as he pumped his fingers in and out, building something inside you that you couldn't name, something new, something overwhelming. "I feel—oh, gods—something...happening—"

"You feel something?" His voice was mocking, drenched in that innocent, teasing tone that had you falling apart. "Yeah? What's happening, princess?"

You couldn't find breath, couldn't form the words to answer him. The pressure inside you was mounting, intensity unbearable, your body tense and straining toward an edge. You clung to him, breathless, desperate for more, desperate for something, anything—

"I don't—" your voice broke as his fingers curled deeper, wetness flooding between your thighs, his thumb relentless. "Pressure—fuck—so much—"

He nodded. "Yeah? Pressure in that pretty stomach? Feels fucking good, doesn't it?"

"Fuck—yes, yes," your lids fluttered. "S’good—"

"You're so close." He watched you, drunk on your downfall, and smirked as you neared the edge. "You're going to cum for me."

Sanity shattered in your throat—words trapped, swallowed by the tension, leaving only the soft, unbridled whimpers you once might've once found embarrassing. But there was no shame now, not when you were this close, the pressure coiling tighter in your core, ready to burst.

"Ohh—" you managed, lungs sputtering, head tipping back. The sound of your voice, the way you moaned, was foreign, unfamiliar to your own ears. "Gods—oh fuck-"

"I know," he cooed, sweet like sugar. "I know."

You were a mess. Too close, too overwhelmed—everything was him. His scent, the heat of his skin, the feel of his fingers working that magic that had your body convulsing before you could even cry out, before you could process the way your vision blurred with the force of it. The climax hit like a wave crashing over you, and your moans were swallowed by his kiss, his lips on yours the second your body tightened, shaking against his hand.

He was relentless, rough and insistent, kissing you like he wanted to devour you whole—drowning out the world as your body pulsed around his fingers. You’d never felt such an intense sensation, lava coursing, replacing the blood in your veins. His breath stuttered against your mouth, a low groan vibrating through him, the sound making your spine tingle.

"F-fuck," he muttered, pulling his fingers from you, glistening and wet. "Messy little thing."

The words sent a shiver through you, not just from their meaning but from the way he said them, like something perverse, intimate. Your chest tightened with the warmth of them.

"You—" you panted, trying to find your voice. Blinking through the haze of lingering bliss. "You can't say things like that."

"Why not?" He chuckled your name against your neck, lips brushing a path to your ear. "Because you might fall in love with me?" His teeth grazed the sensitive spot under your lobe, along your jawline. "Oh wait...you already have."

"Shut up," you whispered, stomach flipping at the way he said your name, the way it dripped from his mouth like honey. "Have not."

"I've known for a while, you know," he mused, his voice so low, so quiet. "Don't think I haven't seen it—the way you look at me." He kissed your skin again, working his way up, each press of his lips something sacred, moving closer to your mouth. "The way you can't get enough of me."

You could kill him for it, for the way his words sunk into your bones, making all the feelings you've buried rise to the surface, pulling you under. He just had to go there—had to milk every inch of your composure out of you, because it's not enough for him to have you disarmed physically—sexually—he needed to have you disarmed emotionally, too.

Perhaps the worst part of it all is how right he was. Arrogant bastard.

"Stop talking," your hand drifted down, grazing the bulge in his pants, your fingers slipping under the waistband, rubbing him through the thin fabric of his boxers. It was reckless. You've never done this before, but God, you wanted to. "Stop talking and teach me."

The room tilted—the world off its axis. His breath caught, choked in his lungs as he grabbed your face and pulled your lips to his—his kiss wild, his tongue insistent, running along your gums and wrestling with yours for control.

"Fuck," he groaned into your mouth as you tugged his boxers down, freeing him, your hand wrapping around him. Hot. Hard. "Wrap your fingers around it, princess. Gentle strokes. Just like that."

Your heart stumbled at the sound of his voice, thick, raw and open. You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly, experimentally, and he hissed through his teeth, a groan vibrating through his chest.

"You're so big," you murmured, forehead against his, the words spilling out without thought. "So thick..."

"Fucking minx," he moaned. "Stroking me and telling me how big I am—fuck—you're not as innocent as everyone thinks."

"Only you know this," you whispered, your hand moving in slow, deliberate strokes, pulse soaring as he groaned. "Does it feel good, Matty?"

"Fuck—Christ—" his breath was jagged, words ripped from his throat like they barely wanted to come out, hips jerking mindlessly. "Tighter, mm—little tighter—"

Your cunt throbbed—each whispered invocation of a god not his own, of something he didn't believe in, forced a shudder through you. That's how you knew. Knew how lost he was. He’d no mind left at all if he was muttering muggle gods.

"Like that?" Your fingers squeezed around him, your gaze burning into his as you looked up through fluttering lashes.

His face was a storm—flushed, eyes half-shut—but at your voice they opened and flicked down to yours, and for once, there was no arrogance, no mockery in that stare. Just raw, primal need, burning so fiercely it made you ache. His hips rocked, desperate for more. Painfully. A hole in his chest torn wide open for you to see, and he didn't care. Couldn't care.

"Yeah—shit—just like that," he gritted out, grip on your hips bruising, but you welcomed it. Needed it. "Fast learner, aren't you?"

"You're a good teacher," you whimpered, a sound that was barely yours as his fingers slipped between your thighs, finding your slit, teasing you open again. "Oh—"

"You've always been a little teacher's pet," he groaned, thrusting into your hand as he slipped a finger inside you. The stretch made you wince, pleasure and pain blurring into something that sent sparks behind your eyes. He watched you, gaze molten. "Fuck—it’s gonna hurt, you know that, right?"

The ache spread through you, but you didn't flinch. "I know," you whispered as his thumb found your clit, making you gasp. "I trust you."

"I know you do." His voice dropped, eyes dark and soft at once as he pushed another finger inside. "You know you’ve always had me wrapped around your fucking finger. You know I care about you—“

His words were too much, pressing on something fragile inside you, and you pulled him into a kiss to shut him up—deep, desperate, drowning. Your hand tightened on his length, the heat between you flaring, and you moaned against his mouth, shaking with the need for more.

"I want you," you breathed, each syllable shivering on your lips as you clenched around his fingers. "I've wanted you for months—"

Months? No, it had been years. Years of wanting, needing, watching from afar, heart in your throat. Years of avoiding anyone else because no one was him. You knew he’d felt the same and it killed him. It wasn't logical, wasn't supposed to be like this—not with you, not now, not his best friend's little sister, not him whispering sweet, dangerous things while knuckle-deep inside your virgin cunt.

It was as if you both shook those thoughts from your minds at once. You’ll think about the implications later.

"You've got me," he rasped, hips grinding involuntarily against your hand. "Just—fuck—don't hate me after this."

Hate him? The very idea was laughable, absurd. You could never hate him. Not even in those moments you tried, not even when he deserved it.

"I could never hate you," you murmured, drawing him closer, lips trembling against his. "Just—please—"

Something shifted in his eyes, and he knew. Knew what you needed. What you both needed. You were vulnerable, trembling, but you trusted him—completely. You’d been in his life for so long. You knew he’d never hurt you. He could see it your eyes, the trust, the in the way your body bent to his touch.

"Alright," he said softly, a hand running up your body to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek. "Alright."

His fingers slid out of you, leaving you bare and breathless, and you swallowed. This was really about to happen.

"Lay back," his voice cut through your haze. "Legs to your chest."

The command wrapped around you like a vice, tightening the anticipation, and you fell back on your elbows, staring up at him as you raised your legs. Vulnerability crept in, making your thighs tense, but Mattheo was there, spreading you open with firm hands, pressing himself against your slick. His eyes were locked onto yours, all that self-assurance gone, melted into something more human—something raw, unguarded.

You could feel it; the vulnerability of this moment stretched between you both—the distance you'd maintained for so long, the careful walls you'd built, were nothing now. He was in too deep, and so were you.

"Stop me at any time," he whispered, his voice a raw rasp, eyes meeting yours. "Just breathe.”

He leaned down until his lips ghosted over yours, and you kissed him like the world might collapse if you didn't. He guided himself against you, the press of him at your entrance an unbearable ache. He was hot, hard, huge—and despite the wetness slicking down your thighs, your body resisted, too tight, too unsure of this.

You whimpered, instinctively trying to pull away, but he stayed, pressing kisses to your hair, your temple, whispering something that sounded like comfort but burned like fire. It hurt more than you expected, more than any of the fantasies you had dared to entertain.

Doubt curled through your chest, what if you couldn't take him? What if—

"M-Mattheo..." his name broke in your throat as you clutched his arm, nails digging into his skin. He tried to push in again, but your body resisted. "It—you—you can't fit..."

"Shh," his lips ghosted over yours, his hand slipping through your hair, trying again, moving slow, controlled. "You're just—so goddamn tight—"

The way he said it sent a spark through your veins. It was filthy, shameless, and it lit you up from the inside, despite the pain. No one had ever spoken to you like this. You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears pricking as he tried to work you open.

And then—he was in.

"I-it hurts," you hissed—pain lighting up your spine as he worked his cockhead inside you, pushing against the resistance of your walls. His breath came in sharp, ragged bursts, each inch a battle. The pressure was unbearable, the sting so sharp it was paralyzing. "Oh, fuck, Mattheo—"

He groaned, a sound from deep within his chest, his head bowing, sweat creeping over his brow.

"Shhh, I know—I know..." he murmured through shredded cords, fighting to maintain control as his hips paused, barely halfway in, just enough to make you feel like you might break. "S'okay...you're doing so good..."

It was overwhelming—the fullness, the ache that felt like it might split you in two. And yet, beneath the pain, something else stirred. His words, soft and rough all at once, made the sensation bearable, turned the hurt into something else. You focused on his voice, on the way he stroked your hair, the way he held you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

"Why—mmff—gods..." you could barely speak, the words tangled in your throat. "Why do you have to be so big—"

A strangled laugh escaped him, though his eyes stayed shut tight, his jaw clenched—cock twitching inside you.

"I don't—fuck—know." His fingers brushed your lips, covering your mouth gently. "Don't go talking like that—not right now—"

You might have laughed, too, if your body wasn't so taut, strung tight with tension and pain and something far more profound. He was barely inside you, his words making your insides clench, drawing another groan from his lips at the squeeze.

His hand held your jaw, palm pressing lightly over your mouth, enough to breathe, to speak—

"Why—" you knew what he meant, knew the warning in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself. "—not?"

His breath hitched. "Because—" he swallowed hard, words coming through gritted teeth, his fingers tightening around your jaw, a warning in his grip. "Because—fuck—your mouth will get you in trouble."

Oh. That was what he meant.

"But—oh fuck—you're so...big..." the words slipped out before you could catch them, a disgruntled moan falling from your lips as he sank all the way in, filling you so completely it was dizzying. The pressure, the heat, the sensation of being pried open—it was all too much, and you cried out, unable to stop the sound from spilling out. "Ohhh—so big—"

"I said, fuck," he cursed, hand clamping firm over your mouth now as his body shuddered, as he ground his hips gently into yours. "—don't say that."

It was too late. You didn't need to say anything further. He could feel it—he could feel everything in the way you clenched around him, barely letting him move—so goddamn tight it was almost painful—he could feel it in the look in your eyes, in the trembling of your body beneath his.

"I can feel you thinking it," he grunted as you squirmed beneath him, every movement making him twitch inside you, drawing another choked groan from his throat. "Merlin sakes—"

You knew he wasn't used to this. To slowing down, to drawing out the tension like this, to the maddening slowness of every motion. He wanted to lose himself, to break you open hard and fast, to take and give and take again until both of you shattered into something unrecognizable. But he couldn't—not with the way your eyes glistened, not with the way you gasped and whimpered as he filled you.

"No talking," he sucked in a breath against your neck, his hips rolling into yours in slow, unbearable waves. "Only if you need me to stop."

He was breaking. So were you. Every thrust was an exquisite kind of torture—an ache that twisted and stretched, dulled only by the flick of his fingers against your clit. His lips pressed along your neck, kissed along the line of your jaw, groaning with each deep, patient push, carving his way into you as you clung to him, your mind floating through the fog of pain into something different—something overwhelming.

Your head fell back. “Oh—Oh gods—“

Each gasp felt like it might be your last as that something built deep inside you, tight and unfamiliar, an ache that didn't hurt but begged to be released. And he felt it too—Mattheo felt it, the way your body pulsed beneath his, the way you tightened around him like you couldn't bear to let him go.

"Bloody fuck—are you—are you going to—" his words were ragged, broken. He couldn't finish the thought, couldn't hold himself together. "Are you—"

“Mattheo—” your voice trembled, a breathless moan as your back arched, pressing into him, your body seeking more. The pain was null now, replaced by an overwhelming pressure, something tight and aching and good—you felt every inch of him inside you, every pulse of his cock as he moved, slow but relentless. “Mattheo—oh gods—”

"Fuck—" he bit down, teeth sinking into your neck as his fingers swirled your clit in rhythm with his thrusts. "You're gonna make me—"

You choked because there was no space for words, no breath for anything but the raw sound of your bodies—moans, gasps, ragged inhales tangled together as you both hurtled towards something inevitable. The light of the moon radiated the man above you and that was all you could register other than the rising crescendo of your climax—something so intense it scared you, almost broke you apart—your body seizing, trembling, as his fingers pressed harder against your clit, as he thrust deeper.

And then, there was only one more blink until you shattered beneath him, the orgasm tearing through you in oceanic motion, muscles clenching around him so tightly he could barely move—and then he was there, too, his body jerking as he groaned into your skin, his release ripped from him in jagged gasps as you milked him without mercy. He slumped on top of you, fingers digging into your skin, the two of you pulsing together in the aftermath, the room spinning, your bodies still trembling from the force of it.

The world was slow to return, the roar of sensations fading into something quieter, softer. The weight of him on top of you was grounding—his forehead pressed against the crook of your neck, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. Neither of you moved for a long while, just basked in the silence, kind that settled in after something irrevocable had passed between two people.

And then, Mattheo pushed up, enough to meet your eyes. Your chest ached at the softness inside his own.

“Are you—” he swallowed as he drank you in, the sheen of sweat on your skin, the flushed cheeks. His words hung in the air as if he didn’t know how to finish the question.

“I’m okay,” you nodded, voice hoarse. “I’m good.”

Mattheo nodded too but didn’t move, still buried inside you, just taking you in. Then, gently, he shifted, pulling back with a slow, careful movement that made you wince slightly. The second he’d pulled out, you felt different—more aware of the vulnerability you’d just laid bare, more aware of the line you two had just obliterated into absolute shambles.

“You sure?” he asked, a flicker of something deeper in his gaze—

You nodded again, the smallest smile pulling at your lips, though your heart was still racing, the enormity of it all sinking in.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I’m sure.”

His jaw tightened, his hand brushing a strand of hair from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek.

“This changes everything, doesn’t it?” His voice was barely audible, like he didn’t want to admit it out loud.

Of course he was thinking it too—how could he not? This was no longer something you could pretend didn’t exist, no longer something you could hide behind banter and stolen glances and secret kisses.

“Yeah,” you breathed, fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the tension there, the heat still radiating from his skin. “It does.”

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @sammehshark

Request: dragon x fem reader, where the reader is a knight sworn to protect the dragon who is royalty. does that work??🥺

A/N: Hope you enjoy this!

From fury to fire

Dragon x fem!reader || teasing, hate sex (but not really), oral sex, size kink, overstimulation

Feeling him inside of you, so deep you could feel him in the back of your throat as he pounded into you chanting about how much he liked your human body, you couldn’t avoid thinking about the first time you met and how his feelings about you weren’t exactly of love (or so he said).

His father, the king, just introduced you as the new royal knight, the one who would protect the prince from now on. You knew it was unusual, a human protecting a dragon? Nobody would suspect that, and that’s exactly why they choose you. And because you were the best knight in the royal army, that too, but the surprise factor was the main reason. You would blend in as his servant, as someone there to help him, but not to protect him. And that would make you the best royal knight possible, and the king knew this. But his son wasn’t so keen on the idea.

“How can a human protect me?” He almost spit the word. The way he roared his disapproval made you feel like a bug, but it also ignited such fury inside of you that before you could realize you were walking up to him, so much bigger than you, your eyes blazing with rage.

You pressed your index finger to his scaly chest, not even caring he was your boss AND your prince. Without blinking you told him: “What better than a human,” you mocked his tone, “to protect a dragon? Is somebody going to suspect I’m the best knight in the army?”

He huffed a laugh, smoke coming out of his nose as he did. “You aren’t the best knight in the army,” he mocked, like the idea was stupid in its own.

You knew you shouldn’t. You knew it wasn’t a good idea. You knew you just got hired, and even if you were great, kicking the prince’s ass was probably not a good move. But he laughed at you, and you were beyond annoyed. So you did what you did best: you maneuvered your body around his much bigger one until he had his back to the floor and you were sitting on his chest smiling down at him.

“Well, my lord,” your tone was full of venom, “guess you aren’t better than me.” You couldn’t believe you used to have a crush in the stupid dragon. (And couldn’t believe even less that you still did.)

“Enough you two,” the king roared, a breath of fire leaving his mouth and almost setting the curtains on fire. “She’s going to be your new guard, and you are going to let her,” the king continued, stopping your bickering.

He grunted in annoyance but didn’t say anything else as you got up. You didn’t offer him a helping hand, you didn’t even say anything as he walked out of the room and you followed close. Your job just began, and you already knew it was going to be intense.

The first couple weeks were weird. He didn’t talk to you and you didn’t talk to him, you simply followed close every time he left the palace and he dismissed you as soon as you entered. You didn’t have to do much outside pulling away some of his fans (even though he insisted they weren’t his fans). It was okay, an easy job.

Until one day someone tried to stab him and you saved his life. He grunted as you stopped the attacker and diffused the situation, calling reinforcements to take him away. He seemed tense when you walked back to the palace, as if your presence alone was driving him insane.

“You should quit,” he stated as you walked him to his room, your body still thrumming with adrenaline and pent up tension after the incident.

You registered his words a second later, grunting a very loud: “No.” You just saved his life and he was acting like you were still a bug, and it started to make you angry. Adrenaline and anger didn’t mix well with your impulsive self.

You arrived at his door, and he turned around to look at you, his face impassible as he asked: “Why are you so infuriating? Why aren’t you scared of me even? I’m twice your size and you are standing there as if I was normal.” He sounded almost annoyed.

“I have loyalty to the crown, my lord,” you told him. His title left your mouth like a dart, leaving him speechless for a second.

You tried not to refer to him as my lord after he specified, you couldn’t, but you had enough. You were mad at him, and high on adrenaline, and he was being a dickhead. You protected him, he could have died, and instead of being concerned he was attacking you for doing your job. For protecting him.

You could see the muscle in his scaly jaw twitch. “Stop that.”

You couldn’t hold yourself back from teasing him more, wanting to get a rise out of him, wanting him to be as mad as you were. As desperate. “What do you mean, my lord?” You played dumb.

“Stop acting all proper and shit. Stop referring to me like that. I don’t like it.” You already knew that, but your anger blinded your brain.

“What do you like then, my lord?” Your voice was filled with amusement and teasing.

“You,” he answered simply, leaving you speechless.

Your brain short-circuited and all the anger inside of you disappeared, confusion overpowering any other emotion you could have. “Wh-what? I thought you didn’t like humans like me.” You cursed yourself, your words sounded stupid out loud.

He laughed bitterly, his claws grabbing your arms and getting you closer to the heat of his big body. “You were wrong. I like humans like you a little bit too much.” There was something in his tone you couldn’t decipher.

“What does that mean?”

He looked at you like you were stupid, and you almost felt like it at the moment. “You think I haven’t been dying to taste you since you knocked me on my ass? You think it hasn’t been driving me crazy to see you all proper and ready to fight for me every time we leave the house? You are wrong, little knight.” And then he claimed your mouth, his big wings coming around your body, cradling you into the tightest and warmest embrace of your life as he devoured your mouth like a starving dragon.

You give back as much as he was giving you, kissing him senseless as you moaned against his mouth. His hands found your middle and he urged you up, your legs wrapping around his middle as he walked backwards into the room, closing the door behind you.

And then his claws were everywhere, groping your ass, touching every inch of your body as you shivered and moaned. The kisses became frantic as you ground against the hard on you could feel against your hot center. He playfully bite down onto your lower lip with his fangs and you let out such a loud moan that he chuckled, pulling away and looking at you like he just saw you for the first time.

He kissed the tip of your nose in the most tender gesture ever, making your heart beat faster and faster. He walked to the bed, laying you down so carefully you felt like a treasure. “You are going to be a good little knight for me now? Are you going to let me give you what you deserve?” His tone was teasing, but there was an edge of intensity there that made you shiver.

“And what is that?” You asked, out of breath after such intense make out session.

“To be worshiped.”

He launched at you, tearing down your clothes and his own, getting you naked in less than a minute. His hands found your legs as he pulled them apart, burying his face in your dripping pussy. He ate you out desperately, his way too long tongue hitting every pleasure point in and out of you, his movements frantic as you moaned. Your hands tried to find some kind of grab in his head, but the smoothness of his scales didn’t allow you to. You ended up grabbing onto the sheets as you cried out his name in an earth shattering orgasm.

You had never come so fast and so hard, but he wasn’t done with you. He positioned himself over you, his big body towering over you like a god. You looked at his scaled dick with concern. “I don’t know if that will fit,” you warned him.

“It will, my little knight, you were made for me,” the tone of his voice left no room for arguing and it made your heart skip a beat.

He started slow, pressing inside of you little by little. He felt so big, so wide, you were about to be split apart. But in a good way. In the best way. He was panting over you, his wings twitching as he tried to be as slow as possible as he kept going and going… and going. By the time he bottomed out you were squirming underneath him, your mouth closing around his hand next to your ear. You bite down hard, making him curse and bulk against you, the movement making both of you groan.

And that was it. It was all it took for him to lose himself on you completely. He roared and started a frantic pace, each thrust making you scream his name as he pounded into your aching core. The scales of his dick felt smooth and soft inside of you, stimulating your G-spot until you were trembling under him with another orgasm.

He didn’t stop. He kept fucking you as you groaned and moaned, the universe fading into the background as he drove you to another dimension filled with pleasure and an incredibly hot dragon fucking you.

You came at least three more times before he looked up and roared his climax, fire leaving his mouth as he burned part of the ceiling as you giggled under him. His erratic movements making you see stars, but your body was too spent to come again.

He filled you to the brim and pulled back, staring at the point where his come was leaking out of your overused pussy. He smirked, his claw pushing the come back inside over and over as you whimpered in oversensitivity.

“My little knight wasn’t as fierce in bed as she’s in combat, are you?” He teased, kissing your soft tummy with reverence.

“You are so cocky…” You caressed the top of his scaly head, and he purred in delight, making you smile down at him.

“And you like it,” he stated, and you couldn’t deny that. “And I like you,” he said with another kiss to your hip, tickling you at the same time.

After that day everything got better. Knowing he didn’t hate you, but he was head over heels for you made it simpler (and complicated at the same time). But you two made it work. You took care of him outside the castle… and he made sure to take care of you inside it.

[thesiltverses]

The horror of Eric Carle

Becoming a dad has really been a reminder of all the half-forgotten books that got me interested in horror: the ones that I will definitely share with my kid (The Minpins) and the ones that I probably won't (Not Now, Bernard)

And then there's Eric Carle, and now it's all coming flooding back - the very first time in my life that I experienced terror. Seriously, what the fuck is this?

Carle's most famous book, The Very Hungry Caterpillar, is in its own way uneasy and strange (the caterpillar's voracious and growing hunger is presented ambiguously both as an unavoidable and natural process of change and something greedy and grotesque; the caterpillar appears to devour its own place-of-birth and then feels good about it) but it flies under the radar by being very unCarle-like. The caterpillar is largely tiny and cute, we get plenty of colourful close-ups of tasty-looking food, and there are only two pages and a cover which feature Carle's favourite preoccupation: giant animals with irregular, scissor-cut eyes staring unhappily at the reader as they threaten to grow larger than the page itself.

I genuinely remember feeling deeply unnerved by Carle's first major piece of illustration work, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?, written with Bill Martin Jr., but only now do I understand why. Holy shit, I have so many questions.

Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What do you see? I see a red bird looking at me.

Why is the rhyme-scheme so frantic and breathless, like it's being chanted out during an escalating ritual somewhere deep in the forests? Why are the animals - textured via collage as if half-carved from wood themselves - staring directly at us, the audience, before then revealing that they're actually looking behind us at something else which is staring back at them in turn? Why do so many of the animals look so fearful and haunted as they acknowledge the vast web of visibility which exists between them?

Why does the 'white dog' page - perhaps the only-genuinely-friendly-looking animal - briefly plunge us into night-time, creating the impression that these creatures are somehow watching each other across spans of time and space, when Carle is fully capable of just drawing an outline around the dog?

Why is the teacher's neck extending like a xenomorph's tongue as she glares with narrowed eyes down at the children (what horrible act have they caught her doing?) Why is the cover of follow-up Polar Bear, Polar Bear, What Do You Hear clearly depicting a Tuunbaq stalking the reader?

What seems remarkable and bizarre is that Carle, a talented artist, deliberately chooses to draw animals for infant readers which are neither cute nor charming but which consistently embody the internet joke about hares - feral wilderness prophets who've glimpsed the truth of the universe and gone mad - and has made a stunningly successful career out of doing so.

Carle's beasts know something terrible that they do not fully understand, and which they are incapable of sharing with us.

I'll avoid the crass temptation to draw serious biographical inferences here (Carle believed he had PTSD from an adolescence spent in Nazi Germany, and his works were inspired by his childhood walks with his father, who returned home psychologically shattered by his own experiences as a Soviet prisoner-of-war) and just say that there is something wonderful, awful and innocent in the fact that perhaps the most popular baby-book artist of all time, when asked to draw a goldfish, would respond with what is clearly a monstrous open-mouthed leviathan rising up from black depths to devour us all.

Look at this horrible fucking thing. It rocks.

[archiebaldo1414]

Picture it with me people

Season 16. Opens with Dean realizing Heaven isn’t good. He’s having these memories of him and Cas through the years and is just like ‘if this was heaven he’d be here’ type shit you know

Supportive Sam and him break out and try to go rescue Sam from the empty. Dean is depressed as hell as always, but he has a purpose now so he’s compartmentalizing, but we continue to see memories. At first, they were all bro-like shit (as much as Destiel ever can be so still romantic lmao) but it starts transferring into stuff we’ve never seen before.

A night in the Dean Cave just them and they keep just looking at each other. [the audience can’t tell if it’s sweet or if they are getting second hand embarrassment since Dean’s fucking 40 and Cas is billions of years old]

A time where Cas heard about the kiss it better thing and fucking DID IT when he cut his hand or some shit. We begin to realize they might have been slightly more aware of things that we were led to believe.

There’s more chill domestic stuff but the kiss it better thing comes up once or twice more. Enough to show us that’s one of their weird little rituals that no one knows about; but ITS A THING!!!

Cas is saved. There’s hugging and intense eye contact. Sam is there. He gets a hug too and suddenly they are having trouble looking at each other. Dean is distraught. He’s fucked up about feelings, he can’t voice this shit! He tried in purgatory but Cas didn’t let him, but now, now he can’t. He keeps trying to talk to him; Cas is sure to remind him he is okay and knows Dean doesn’t feel a certain way.

He’s frustrated. Why is Cas making this so difficult?? How does he have no clue? Surely he’s aware how he acts with Cas is VERY different to how he acts with everyone else/how everyone else acts with him?

It comes to him suddenly when he bangs his hip on the counter. As he swears (loudly) a little voice in his head is saying ‘Cas needs to kiss it better’. And then he knows. Since he was rescued, they’re little rituals have gotten infrequent and awkward. Cas doesn’t want to make Dean uncomfortable after all! He knows now!

Dean runs. Bangs on Sam’s door. Sam opens it, it’s late, he’s annoyed. “What, Dean, why do you look so excited?” He’s doing his bitch face

“Sammy, punch me in the mouth” he prepares himself for the punch, he can hardly stop grinning. He’s practically vibrating with excitement, the freak.

“Dean? What? Why would I punch you?” Sam is perplexed. He’s concerned. He would love to punch Dean (lol)

“I need you to. It’s important, please, Sam”

Eileen hears them and comes to the door as well. Sam explains what’s going on while Dean looks at her and pleads to punch him. She clearly realizes something Sam doesn’t becuase she starts cackling before winding back and punching him. Hard. His lip splits, and he grins around slightly bloody teeth before waving goofily and turning to go while Sam throws up his hands in frustration because What! The! Fuck!

Anyways. Dean marches down the hall. He’s nervous. He knocks. Cas answers. He looks down at Dean’s fucked up bloody mouth and is like Dean! What happened! Who must I kill! And Dean’s like it’s all good man but 😔👉👈it hurts

Cas is all; let me heal you…and Dean’s like OKAY THAT’S FINE WITH ME HA HA

There’s a bit of staring while Cas tries to figure out what’s going on and he slowly raises two fingers before Dean slowly pushes his hand down. He doesn’t let go of the loose grip on his wrist. His hands are shaking a bit. Cas is feeling a little rejected, he can’t even heal Dean now? But Dean is so close, and he’s still holding his wrist? Why is he shaking a bit? What’s go- oh. Oh oh oh oh

Cas very tentatively leans forward and presses tiny little delicate to Deans mouth as he heals him and cdjrjgfjejficsjtjvisjtv

Anyways they kiss a lot yay the end

dean: ow, fuck. i cut my finger.

cas: here, let me kiss it better.

dean, blushing furiously: oh- uh- okay.

[later]

dean: sammy, i need you to punch me in the mouth.

sam, already winding up: done.

[scorpiosbite]

actress!reader x drew starkey social media au

࣪˖ ִ𐙚 ────୨ৎ──── what you got up to, your first week in LA through social media.

𝜗𝜚 pairing: actress!reader x drew starkey

author’s note: these posts were made during actress!reader’s first trip to LA, so around august 2024 at this point of actress!reader and drew’s relationship timeline, they’ve hooked up once and went on a date together. actress!reader is going to remain in LA for the time being to film her new movie ‘anora’.

yourusername

liked by drewstarkey, madelyncline, bellahadid and others

yourusername swore i’d never like LA… still don’t, fucking love the people tho

view all comments

madelyncline second pic of us omg, we’re so sexy

yourusername come sit on my face

tayrussell damn you’re so hot

yourusername bending over rn

mimikeene i miss you bby come back to london

yourusername i miss you more wifey

alexademie mother

yourusername mwah baby

bellahadid y/n active era? we prayed for times like this!!

yourusername no promises baby

kendalljenner body so tea it’s insane

yourusername says you babes

y/nstitties HOLD ON Y/N HANGING OUT WITH MADELYN DOES THIS MEAN SHES MET THE REST OF THE CAST??!???

targaryenstan yea, paps got pic of her and obx cast at a club

rafeswhore DREW IN THE LIKES I REPEAT DREW IN THE LIKES

y/nsno1fan HE NEVER LIKES PEOPLE’S POSTS, I SHIP!!!

sitonmyfacey/n i’m beating my shit to this rn

sitonmyfacey/n just came, 10/10 nut

ilovey/n she’s so mommy, but so daddy

visenyasdragon FUCK SHES ACTUALLY POSTING!!!!

drewsballsack DREW IF YOU SEE THIS HOP ON THAT MAN!!!! SHE SO FINE #NEEDTHAT

tmz

tmz Y/n L/n and Madelyn Cline seen arriving at an downtown LA club this past weekend, the two stars were seen partying with the rest of the Outer Banks cast, with the Game of Thrones star seen getting hot and heavy while dancing with a particular man.

view all comments

y/nvisenyatarg WHO????! WAS IT DREW?!? PLEASE PLEASE LET IT BE DREW!!!

starkeystan OMG PLEASE YES I SHIP SO HARD!!

y/nismother WAIT WAS IT DREW??!! cause i’ve been shipping them ever since maddie said in that interview that she made the cast watch GOT and drew blushed when she mentioned y/n and they way they both say their honoured when complimented is soulmate shit

y/nsspinetat I SAW PEOPLE TALKING ABOUT THAT ON TT

daddyy/n my friend was at the club it was drew

y/nismother HOLY SHIT

daddyy/n yea, they were grinding and apparently left together

y/nsspinetat NO HE STOLE MY GIRL!!!!

y/nnews

y/nnews Y/n will be living in LA for the next few months while she films her new movie “Anora” by director Sean Baker, the film rights have been purchased by A24

view all comments

y/natoenails damn i’m so proud of her

randomuser she fucking killed it on the first season of GOT, can’t believe that was her first acting gig, im so excited to see her do this film

y/nfan what’s her character like in this?

y/nmylove shes a stripper

y/nfan oh im gonna flood that theatre

TAGLIST: @sunnybunnyy2 @percysley @wearemadeofstardust0 @idgasb @pinkpantheris @emmaaas-posts @grace-sully

ok, here's the first instalment of the social media au of actress!reader x drew starkey enjoy and let me know what you think!!!

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

Steve was lying on the floor of Robin's room, his back against the wall as he let Robin paint his toenails while he flipped through one of her magazines. The radio played softly in the background.

"I am totally new to having a girlfriend, and by girlfriend, I mean platonic girlfriend," Robin said.

"Well, that's one thing we got in common, I don't think I've ever had a girl who's just a friend," Steve said.

"What about Perkins?" Robin asked.

"She doesn't count, I hated her. She's the reason Tommy became such an asshole," Steve said.

"Hm, yeah," Robin said and paused. "So, how close were you and Tommy?"

"Well, we were friends since we were eight. We pretty much bonded over the fact that we both had assholes for fathers. We shared everything and told each other everything. He told me about his first crush, and I told him about my first crush. We practiced kissing, practiced having sex, and when I got first kiss, I told him immediately," Steve said.

"Woah, woah, woah! Back it up!" Robin exclaimed, and she closed the nail polish. "What the fuck do you mean you practiced kissing and having sex with Tommy Hagan?"

"Exactly what it means," Steve said, rolling his eyes. "We hadn't gotten girlfriends yet, and we wanted to get good before we did. It doesn't mean anything. We like women, so it didn't count."

"It still counts!" Robin shrieked. "Did you or did you not put your lips on Tommy's?"

"Yeah, and I also let Tommy put his dick in my ass. I was basically his pillow," Steve said as he continued to casually flip through the magazine. "It doesn't count if you're not gay, Robin."

"It doesn't work like that! Steve Harrington, the first time you had sex was with Tommy Hagan!" Robin exclaimed.

"It was not!" Steve exclaimed, throwing down the magazine.

"Was too!" She yelled.

"Was not!" Steve yelled.

"Okay! So, let's say if I kissed you right now. . .," Robin said.

"Wouldn't count as your first kiss, you're a lesbian and I'm straight," Steve said.

Robin grinned, a manic look in her eye. She pulled her hand back and slapped Steve across the face. He screamed.

"Didn't count! I'm a lesbian and you're straight!" Robin yelled.

"Okay, okay, I see your point. Jesus, did you have to hit me so hard?" Steve asked, rubbing his red cheek.

"Yeah, dingus, I did," Robin said.

"Okay, so my first kiss was with Tommy, and I lost my virginity. We're not gay, though," Steve said.

"No, just desperate and very horny teenagers, apparently," Robin rolled her eyes. "I can't believe you had gay sex before me, and you're not even gay. I bet you pictured some blond with big boobies."

"Well, no, actually," Steve shrugged.

"Hm, what do you mean?" Robin asked.

"I didn't have to picture a woman. I liked it," Steve shrugged.

"You liked it?!" Robin asked.

"Well, I am a man, Robin," Steve said.

"Uh, except not every man likes it when another man rams it up his asshole," Robin said. "Okay, I kind of wish I had been more delicate about this, but I didn't know this was you being in denial kind of situation."

"I'm straight, Robin, I like women," Steve said.

"Yeah, and did you know that you can like men and women?" Robin asked.

"What?" Steve asked.

Robin smiled and got up to pull out a box from underneath her bed. She pulled out a magazine and tossed it at Steve.

"Read it, study it, learn from it," Robin said.

Steve looked at it quizzically for a moment before opening it. He stared at it for the longest time before finally closing it.

"I am an idiot," Steve said.

"No, you're not. You just didn't know," she said softly.

"Bisexual," Steve whispered, and then he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh my god, this whole time, I thought I lost my virginity to Chrissy Cunningham."

"Chrissy Cunningham?" Robin asked.

"Uh, we used to hang out all the time before she started dating Jason Carver," Steve said. "Our parents ran in the same circles."

"Well, you know, I guess you could say you lost your guy virginity to Tommy Hagan and your girl virginity to Chrissy Cunningham," Robin said.

"Yeah, that's true," Steve grinned. "Thanks, Robin, and especially thank you for giving me that slap. I definitely needed it."

"Anytime that you want me to hit you, I'm your woman," Robin replied.

They moved towards Robin's window sill and sat on it, opening a window to get some fresh air.

"You know this means that I'm not straight," Steve said.

"Something else we have in common," she said.

"You ever wonder how many out there who are like me and who just don't know?" he asked as he looked up at the moon. "Here in Hawkins, I mean."

"Probably a lot more than we think," Robin said. "And they're out there, sitting in their closets wondering if they're ever going escape themselves or be rescued."

"Isn't crazy how we found ourselves?" Steve said.

"Maybe queer people just end up finding each other," Robin said.

"Well, maybe they'll find their way out themselves," Steve said and then he looked her, hazel eyes twinkling in the moonlight. "Seriously, Robin, thank you."

"You did that yourself, you know, you just needed a nudge. I mean, you could have told me to go fuck myself and continued to live in denial," Robin said. "You're a lot smarter than you give yourself credit for."

Steve smiled bashfully and glanced back at the moon. He looked at her, with tears in his eyes.

"Is it possible to be platonically in love with someone?" he asked.

"I think anything is possible," she said. "I think it's a definite because I know that I'm absolutely, platonically in love with you."

They dangled their feet out the window and leaned against each other, Steve resting his head on top of Robin's.

"I wish I'd known you sooner," he whispered.

"I wish I'd known you sooner, too," she whispered back.

They were here now, though, and absolutely nothing could get in between them.

Part Two