#fairly proud of this one actually

[cattrek]

life could be so gay

[cerise-on-top]

Can i request fluff alphabet with graves? I dont mind what letters you do x

Hey! I did the first eight letters of the alphabet!

Fluff Alphabet for Graves

A ctivities - What do they like to do with their s/o? How do they spend their free time with them?

If it was up to him, then he’d go grilling with you every day. Loves teaching you how to barbecue, telling you about how hot the grill should be, what its components are, how long the meat and sausages should be on the iron, that sort of stuff. Graves also loves inviting his Shadows to a barbecue as well. That way he gets to unwind with you and them and you get to know the people he works with. Those are the small celebrations he looks forward to the most.

B eauty - What do they admire about their s/o? What do they think is beautiful about them?

On the one hand, he loves the fact that you’re independent and can go a long time without him. It’s necessary since he’s away a lot of the time. On the other hand, he does love how dependent you can be on him. Even just the small stuff gets to him, such as you having forgotten your wallet and wanting some ice cream, or you leaning into him for comfort when you’re watching a scary movie together. Yes, he loves you, but he also loves it when you need him. You’re his world, and he’s yours. He’s the big, strong man in your relationship and he’ll protect you from everything there may be.

C omfort - How would they help their s/o when they feel down/have a panic attack etc.?

I feel as though he’d try to give you some unsolicited advice. You’re more than welcome to tell him to shut up, though. But other than that, he’ll try to crack some jokes here and there to get you to smile again. Also not above cuddling you and holding you close to make you feel protected and loved. Your panic attack wouldn’t be the first one he’s experienced, in all honesty. Sometimes, he helps with calming down his Shadows. Will calmly talk to you, play some games to help you get your mind off things as well. Will breathe with you too, if you’re okay with that.

D reams - How do they picture their future with their s/o?

If it was up to him, then you’d be living on a ranch together. He grew up on one in Texas and sometimes wants to go back to that life. Just you being surrounded by cattle, sheep, horses and other kinds of animals. You’d have a nice German shepherd together and would tend to the animals together. Of course, he wouldn’t give up his PMC either, but he can dream about that sort of future. He doesn’t think it would ever become reality anyway. However, as long as he gets to spend his future with you, he’s happy.

E qual - Are they the dominant one in the relationship, or rather passive?

He leans more towards being the dominant person in your relationship, but he can be passive at times as well. Usually has his hand on you somewhere as well as an act of dominance. Loves having you sit on his lap too, sometimes even in public when there are no chairs. People should know that you’re together and that he’s the one protecting you. He’s more than happy to consider your suggestions, but it’s usually him who decides where you end up going. Especially if you’re indecisive.

F ight - Would they be easy to forgive their s/o? How are they fighting?

He’d be somewhat petty and resentful, but he wouldn’t let it out on you. He wouldn’t really let it out on anyone, he’s far too mature for that. However, you’d have to apologize to him for him to forgive you. As long as you’re being nice about it, he will. It’s rare for him to apologize unless he’s truly hurt you. When he was in the wrong about some fact he’ll usually ignore it. When he fights he gets a bit louder, his accent becomes a bit stronger, but that’s it. He won’t call you anything mean, but it will be known that he’s upset with you.

G ratitude - How grateful are they in general? Are they aware of what their s/o is doing for them?

He’s pretty grateful. Not as much as other people, though. He doesn’t always consider everything you’re doing for him. Not that he takes it for granted either, far from it, but he just doesn’t always think when he doesn’t need to. However, generally speaking, he is grateful for what you do for him. Will show it by either taking you on a nice date to somewhere you’ve always wanted to go, or by taking care of your home in your stead for a while. You, too, deserve to have a day off from it all, after all.

H onesty - Do they have secrets they hide from their s/o? Or do they share everything?

There are plenty of things he doesn’t tell you. Sure, it may seem like he’s very open about his job, but you’ll always get the feeling he’s not being entirely honest with you. However, aside from job related things, he’s a very honest man. While he may sugarcoat some things for you sometimes, he will tell you pretty much everything. You can ask him about any personal detail and there’s a good chance he’ll tell you about it. In fact, I encourage you to do so, Graves enjoys talking about himself to you. Ask him about his plans for you and him and he’ll get quite sappy too and won’t stop talking for an hour.

[mumblesplash]

don’t let the superhero costumes fool you they’re just here to shoot people 

[pennamesmith]

The Crone

“I am Mara. And I am gone.” 

When the ship hits the desert sands, it screams like a dying leviathan. Shockwaves ripple to the edge of the Waste and it scars the ground with a trench a mile long. The natives have no trouble locating the wreckage; they merely have to follow the smoke. 

They do not expect to find survivors. Somehow, impossibly, there is one: a crumpled, broken girl; babbling, bleeding, delirious. The only person, so far as they can tell, who was on the ship at all. They pull her from the smoldering remains as carefully as they can, and give her what meager medicine they have. Her breath is ragged, but steady. Her fever blazes, and then just as quickly breaks. She will live. 

How is this possible? They know better than to ask. This is not a night for questioning miracles. 

It has been only hours since the stars disappeared. 

—

She awakens in a universe of pain. Gasping, she tries to bolt upright and accomplishes nothing of the kind. 

“Good morning.” A pinched reptilian face stares down at her. It adjusts a thick pair of spectacles and shines a light in her eyes. “Do you know where you are? Can you remember your name?” 

“Mm. Muh.” 

The medic squints. “You’re one of those aliens, aren’t you? Did you do this? Not many of your kind left now. You might be the last one.” 

“Muh ruh.” 

“Take your time. Don’t force yourself to talk if you can’t yet.” Scaly hands lay a wet cloth across her brow. She barely registers the words as she drifts into inky darkness. 

“The whole planet heard your people’s evacuation order, you know. ‘All units return to Eternia!’ That’s all well and good for folks who have starships to run away with. I’m guessing yours couldn’t make it out before the window closed. Seems all that tech still can’t buy you luck. I’m afraid you’re stuck here with the rest of us.” 

She shivers. It is cold in this place. 

“We’re all alone together, now.” 

—

“Razz,” she mutters, sitting up in bed. 

There is a window here, small and uneven, a holey linen scrap the only thing separating inside from out. Beyond this room the lone and level sands stretch far away to a distant uneven horizon. The sky is a flat black. There are no stars. 

She stumbles to her feet and shakes the sandy creature keeping vigil in the corner. “Razz,” she repeats, to uncomprehending compound eyes. 

“Do the Whispering Woods still bloom?”  

The others come quickly. They offer to show her the ship — what parts of it haven’t been scavenged already, at least — but she refuses, emphatically. With halting words and gestures, she manages to communicate where she does want to go. The desert-dwellers fear it, that deep sea of trees with its many eyes and voices. Though they willingly point the way, not one will take her there. 

So, she stays. For now. 

She heals slowly, and mostly silently. “I can’t remember,” she says in answer to most of their questions. She frowns into her lap, frustrated tears pearling at the corners of her eyes. “I’m trying. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

She stares at nothing. 

“I have to go back.” 

—

When she is strong enough to walk, she takes her leave of these kind strangers. They give her food and a stick to lean on, and she accepts their gifts  graciously. She will never see them again. 

Though the desert is unforgiving, it is not without end. The moons that make the daytime are bright, but not hot. After two days’ walk, she finds herself at the edge of the Whispering Woods. 

The trees are quiet now. The out-of-control magic that burned here when she gave up the sword has cooled into deep shadows. It thrums with potential energy, like a swollen thunderhead. 

She doesn't actually want to come back here any more than she wants to see her old ship. But she knows what she would find there, and here there are mysteries that still need answers. 

The woods are generous. Almost immediately the path leads her exactly where she wants to be: to a low hovel hidden in a hillside, with a dirty curtain for a door. Cautiously, she pulls the cloth aside. 

“Razz?” 

Nobody answers. Inside, it is cluttered but cold. Everything is still. Nobody has touched this chair, that bowl, those books for a long time. An inch of dust coats every surface, as if abandoned. 

She crosses the threshold. 

“Hi, it’s me again! Did you find where I was hiding?” 

She whirls around at the unfamiliar, high-pitched voice. Standing in the doorway behind her is a tiny figure with blue hair and rainbow overalls, grinning and waving. 

“Hey there! What’s with the silent treatment? It’s me, Loo-Kee!” 

She throws up. 

—

After a rest, the shadows don’t seem to dance so much, and the air doesn’t feel quite as heavy. It’s much easier to catch her breath. She sighs, relieved. The dizzy, sick feeling is gone. 

Loo-Kee, however, is not. 

“I’m sorry,” the little creature says, sounding genuinely contrite. “I didn’t realize how early it was for you.” 

They sit cross-legged on a narrow shelf, looking down at her. Their eyes are cartoonish, round and curious. She rubs the bridge of her nose and scowls back, frustration growing by the second. 

“Who are you?” she growls. “Where is Razz?” 

A curious head-tilt. “Oh, wow. It’s really early for you. Anyway, I already told you: I’m Loo-Kee! And Razz is right there.” 

Loo-Kee points a chubby finger. Startled, she turns around, but there is nobody else. She looks back. Loo-Kee smiles beatifically. 

“Please.” Her voice is on the verge of breaking. “If you’re the woods — if this is some kind of magical test, or game — I don’t have time for it. I need to see Razz. Where did she go?” 

“You do have time,” Loo-Kee replies calmly. They jump down from the shelf. “Listen, I think I took a wrong turn through next month to get here. I’ll let you get settled for now, okay? See you next time!” 

“Next time what?” she tries to bark, but Loo-Kee has already vanished behind a skinny coat rack. The hut grows quiet again. She is alone. 

She isn’t entirely sure why she came here. 

She clears a small spot on the raggedy bed. It’s late, and there’s nowhere else to go. Suddenly feeling the ache of her journey, she hunkers down and wraps a threadbare quilt around her tired shoulders. It’s cold comfort. 

Swaddled in darkness, sick with exhaustion, she cries quiet, violent tears. 

—

She stays in the little cottage. There is nowhere else to go. The one time she tries, the woods lead her immediately back with supernatural efficiency. 

She exists in a tight circle. Safe, but unable to leave. Protective custody, her people would have called it. She pauses on that thought, grasping at its frayed edges, trying to remember more. Inevitably, it slips away from her. 

The memories come in faint flashes at the strangest provocations. Holding them is like catching butterflies, or remembering a dream. Everything seems so far away. 

A week goes by. Two. She finds a tawny broom and starts to sweep out the dust in the cottage’s corners. The handle seems to tug at her hands, gently, like a planchette or a dowsing rod, seeking out old cobwebs and forgotten spaces. She finds herself talking to it as a rider might their horse.    

“Well done, Broom. Thank you, Broom. No Broom, I’m not frightened at all, and neither should you be.” 

One morning, she upends an old case of drawers and finds a familiar unusual face tumbling out. 

“Ya ha ha! You found me!” Loo-Kee crows with delight. They leap to their feet, and then somehow higher, hovering in front of her nose and grinning hugely. 

“You’ve got good peepers, lady! And you didn’t even need glasses or nuthin!” They lean on air and swish a fluffy striped tail. “That’s impressive. Most people from your dimension can’t see into ours. Not on their own, anyway.” 

That sparks a memory. Her eyes glaze over. “I pulled the planet into an empty dimension,” she murmurs, distant and dream-like. “The Heart of Etheria…” 

“You did that?” Loo-Kee’s eyes widen as they drift back to the ground, landing with a little bump. “Oh wow. That explains a lot. I was wondering how you got all refracted.” 

She blinks. “What?”

“Like a river splitting. Or a mirror cracking.” Loo-Kee stands and paces a pensive circle, waving their hands vaguely. “You’ve become more than one thing, but at the same time you’re still the same thing, but at the same time you’re in a lot of different places at once.” 

They look up. “Um, silly question, but what does time normally look like where you come from? It might start to work different for you now.” 

Her eye twitches and she resists a powerful urge to sweep the impish creature out the door with one fell swing. “What are you talking about?” 

“I’m not sure yet.” Loo-Kee pauses, brow furrowed, foot tapping, arms crossed. “This has never happened before.” They brighten. “Anyway, I’ll let you stay here if you want! I found this place all by myself, so it’s basically mine.” 

“What?” Her frustration boils over, and her voice rises to a shout. “I’ve been living here! This isn’t your house, it belongs to Madame Razz!” 

Loo-Kee scratches their head. “Madame Razz? Who’s that?” They tilt an eyebrow. “Is it you?” 

“No! I’m — ”

She halts, the words catching in her throat. This absence in her memory is one of the worst. She does have a name. She is sure of it. But whenever she searches for it in her mind, she can find nothing but a burnt, ragged hole. She shuts her eyes hard, trying to think, willing the letters to appear. 

“I'm not certain. I’m. I am… Ra. Something-Ra?” 

“Razz?” 

“No!” She beats at her temples. “It started with another sound. I’m sure of it. It’s right there… Ma?” 

“Madame?” 

“No!” 

She shrieks, kicks a stack of rusted cook pots, and drops heavily into a wicker chair, shaking with impotent rage. Her unbraided hair falls in a long curtain around her bent head, veiling her face. She chokes back a sob.  

Loo-Kee softens, face falling, and offers a hesitant reassuring hand. “Um. Hey, I’m sorry for upsetting you. I was just joking around about the house thing.” 

Silence. 

Loo-Kee jerks a thumb toward the door. “I’m gonna give you some space now, okay? But I mean it about wanting to help. I’ll come back later, after I’ve talked to some friends.” They back gingerly out of the cottage. “It was nice to meet you, Ma — uh, ma’am.” 

She stays in the chair for a long time after they’ve gone. She doesn’t think about anything, only stares at her feet and the dirty floor until the daylight fades and the moons rise in an empty night sky. She falls asleep there, shoulders drooping, tipping slowly over into an exhausted heap. 

When she wakes, she finds herself in bed, the covers pulled up to her chin, her Broom leaning lightly against the facing wall. 

Outside of Madame Razz’s house, the trees dance lightly in the morning wind. 

—

The first time she slips, she hardly notices it at all. She is busy tending the oven when the air crackles and the trees outside jump into new positions, branches growing longer in an instant. Just as quickly she slips back, and the flicker in the fire may as well have been a trick of the light. 

The next time, she is in the garden, and falls backward when the vegetable patch explodes and the rose bush triples in size. This one lasts for an hour of panicked cleaning — the inside of the house is suddenly covered in dust again — before everything shifts and she finds herself under a moonlit night sky, the garden nothing more than a freshly-dug parcel of soil. 

The incidents only grow more frequent as time goes on. The woods will let her wander a little farther these days, and she watches rivers curl over dry ground like snakes and mountains shrink back into tiny pebbles. Each time she will eventually drift back to the present; but that word is starting to lose its meaning as she lives more and more of her life out of order. 

Sometimes she can harvest acorns from an oak tree planted only seconds before. Sometimes she has to make a pie three times before all the ingredients stay put together. If time is the hemline of a dress, her thread loops in and out like wild, spiderwebbing lace. Unpredictable as it is, there is a flow to it all. When she closes her eyes, it feels like being pulled along a powerful, shifting current, in an ocean that goes on forever. 

She develops a rhythm, and as time goes by, a tiny, growing part of her begins to enjoy life in the little forest house. It’s a peaceful life. 

“Hello,” Loo-Kee says, popping out from behind her favorite mug in the cupboard. 

“Aaah!” she screams, slamming the cupboard door in their face. 

Loo-Kee utters a muffled curse amidst crashing crockery. A moment later they reappear in the front doorway. “Sorry, sorry! I didn’t mean to startle you!” 

Rubbing their round red nose, the little sprite scampers inside and climbs up to sit on the table. “Ouch. Okay. I guess I sort of deserved that. But hey, listen, I think I figured some things out! Oh, and Spritina says thank you for the berry cake.” 

“Who?” 

“You’ll meet her later. The Twiggets have been shy because you’re not originally from here, but they won’t hide from you forever. You’re still connected to the planet just as much as we are. See, that’s what I figured out! It’s all because of She-Ra.” 

At the sound of that name she halts, knuckles tightening around the handle of her Broom. 

“For the Honor of Grayskull,” she whispers, the words automatic and unbidden. 

“I’m not talking about your password settings,” Loo-Kee says dismissively. “I mean the real deal. The very nexus of magic at the heart of this planet. The living force that surrounds and binds us together. She-Ra!” 

“She-Ra,” she repeats, and a blue glow flickers in her eyes. “But the sword is gone,” she sighs. The light fades. Her posture sags. 

“She-Ra isn’t a sword,” Loo-Kee replies, in the tone of a patient teacher. “Here, lemme show you something.” 

They turn and dash into the woods without waiting for a reply. She dithers, agonizes, and finally follows, gripping Broom like a security object. The trees part for her as she follows her guide. When she glances to either side, she can sense hidden eyes watching from behind the branches. 

They arrive at a tiny, clear pond, nestled in the roots of a circle of trees. The water sparkles, half in light and half in shadow. She approaches it slowly and stares in: the water is supernaturally still, no more than a few feet deep and perfectly transparent. She can see the mossy rocks that cover the bottom. 

“Is it a special pond?” she asks. “Some sort of magic well?”

“No.” Loo-Kee plunks down at the water’s edge. “I mean, there is magic in it, but there’s magic in every pond around here. This was just the closest one.” 

She sits beside Loo-Kee and stares down. Beneath the surface of the water, fish and snails and crawling crabs move through the cracks between each stone. It is easy to imagine the scene as a tiny landscape, with frilled dragons and alien hermits populating a miniscule mountain range. The longer she looks, the more details reveal themselves. 

“It’s a whole world,” she says. 

“Yeah.” Loo-Kee nods. “And that world is made of whole other worlds. And there are more whole worlds all around it, and every one of them is full of whole other worlds.” Their voice is earnest. “And all the little differences between them, like what shapes things are, or what dimension they’re in, is really just hiding the fact that everything is part of the same thing.”

“It’s all connected.” 

Loo-Kee takes her hand and guides it to the water’s surface. Her touch leaves ripples echoing across. 

“In this place, you are what connects it.” 

The light sparks in her eyes. And she transforms. 

—

“Hello dears! I’ve been expecting you.” 

She looks down at the nervous cluster of tree spirits. Twiggets, Loo-Kee calls them. They peer up at her from behind green leaf masks, their squat bodies no higher than her knee. 

“This way, this way,” she coos, ushering them all inside. “There is room for everyone in Madame Razz’s house.” 

She fixes their leader with a twinkling eye. “Spritina, dear, it’s so good to see you. Have a seat right there.” 

“How did you know my…?” 

“Oh, never mind that!” She laughs. “You are here on a very important mission, yes?” 

Spritina draws herself up, the image of a child performing bravery. “We need help. One of the old groves is dying. Something the aliens left behind poisoned the ground.” 

“Hmm. Well, we can’t have that.” 

She browses the myriad items and ingredients that crowd her shelves. Hundreds of different dried herbs, tinctures, extracts, rare flowers, strange and unusual artifacts. Where her memories fail her, the very air itself seems to guide her hand. She plucks some of this, a pinch of that, filling her basket to the brim. Medicine for the poison of the past.

“We’re ready!” she announces. “Sprig, Sprockett, lend a hand and carry Broom for me, will you? It’s a dangerous path, and I don’t want him to get lost.” 

“A magic broom! See? She is a real witch,” one of the little spirits says to the other, as they heft Broom between themselves like busy loggers. 

“Doesn’t seem very magic to me,” the other observes. 

“Um. Are you sure you need to come with us?” Spritina asks nervously, trotting to keep up with the much taller woman. “It’s kinda deep in the woods, and humans can get lost…” 

“I’m sure a human could,” she hums. “If the woods wish me gone they will turn me away. But I don’t think they will, today. And besides, I need berries for the cake I’m baking.” 

She strides confidently into the forest, her basket swinging merrily in the crook of her arm. The Twiggets follow, making a strange procession through the trees. The woods bend and twist before them, revealing hidden places like a wounded animal cautiously showing its belly. She places her hands on the bark, the stone, the earth, and speaks quiet soothing nothings to it all. The Twiggets watch her, murmuring to each other in excited whispers. 

Deep in the Whispering Woods there is a blasted plain. This is what remains when stolen magic burns holes in the world. But this land was green and healthy once, even after the great Crystal Castle arose in the center of the clearing. The settlers’ mighty stronghold had existed in harmony with the planet, briefly. 

Now it is a dark tower standing on blighted ground. 

She unfolds a cloth and carefully sets out her ingredients, explaining what each one is to the spirits crowding around her. “You can find most of these things in the woods. But some you can only find in the places the First Ones left abandoned.” 

Small glass vials hold a strange, metallic liquid. “This is like a medicine that uses a tiny part of the sickness to heal. We can’t undo what happened here, but we will make the land whole again.” 

She sets to work mixing and brewing. They watch and learn quickly. Soon they begin to help. Before long, they are doing most of the work to restore the grove themselves, while the witch of the woods wanders off to gather berries. 

She paints a meandering line around the edge of the clearing. Perhaps it is only a coincidence that her path takes her closer and closer to the Crystal Castle’s ruins. Perhaps this is where she always wanted to go. She draws nearer. 

She has forgotten about the berries, now. 

The Castle’s door is dark and silent. Even the air seems to grow still around it. She approaches slowly, places her hand softly against the wall. There is an almost imperceptible warmth there; slumbering, dormant, like soil under snow. 

“Are you there, Hope?” she asks. Not fully understanding the question, but speaking as if compelled. Something cold and heavy takes hold of her heart, pulls it deep down, down deep. 

Nothing changes in the cold Castle contours, but faint feelings seem to drift from the darkness: longing, regret, loneliness. She hugs herself, missing something she can't clearly remember. 

“I’m sorry,” she says, not certain why. 

The silence deepens. 

“I loved you,” she attempts. 

Nothing. 

“I just wanted to be good.” 

Perhaps the feeling in the air gains a note of shame. Perhaps she only imagines it. The Crystal Castle remains still. The doorway stays dark. After a long time, she becomes aware of someone pulling urgently on her hand. A young Twigget is shouting at her. 

“…adame Razz! Madame Razz!” the tiny spirit cries. 

“Hmm? What did you say? What about Madame Razz?” 

“Come look!” The Twigget pulls on her idle hand again before bounding away. She follows slowly, gradually returning to the present. The others are all clustered around something at the edge of the clearing. 

“It’s working!” Spritina announces with breathless excitement, pointing at the ground. 

Where they have applied the new medicines, the sickly, dying plants are already returning to life. Tiny glowing motes of magic move through leaves and vines, softly pulsing with life. A few inches further in, a new green stem is poking up through the barren dirt, growing before their widening eyes. Around it, more spots in the ground are stirring. 

“The planet is unbalanced,” she declares, taking Broom in her hands, feeling the gentle pull of the future. “And the magic is still here. We can heal this place. But we must be careful.” 

“There is still Hope.” 

—

“Do you like my dress? I got it for Princess Prom!”

It is winter now, although it doesn’t snow in the Whispering Woods. The garden is resting for the season, and she is busy filling jars with pickles and preserves. 

She narrows her eyes. “What is Princess Prom?” 

“Oh, it’s the biggest thing in a century or two.” Loo-Kee twirls, admiring the puffy trim of their outfit. “All the princesses on the planet get together and have a big party!” 

She sits, the hint of a smile playing at her lips. Her hair, wild, reaches past her waist by now. “Always full of surprises, Loo-Kee. Are you a secret princess, then?” 

“‘Course not! I’m a Kon-Seal. I can go wherever I want, and whenever too! Oh, but I do also have an invitation.” 

She leans forward. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask. How exactly does that work?” 

“How does what work?” Loo-Kee is practicing an up-tempo dance step. “Invitations?” 

“No, I mean…” She waves her hands vaguely. “All of this. The time stuff. I know you said it would seem different to me, but whenever I think I have a handle on things you come around and make it all confusing again.” 

Loo-Kee stops mid-pirouette. “Isn’t that how learning works?” 

“Not when your teacher is being a child!” She sighs, immediately deflating from the outburst. “I’m sorry. It’s just frustrating, having no control. Sometimes I’m in the future. Sometimes I’m in the past. Sometimes I can see a trillion different realities, folding onto each other like thin sheets of metal, forming a single blade…”

“Yeah, yeah, the Time Knife, we’ve all seen it.” Loo-Kee waves a hand. “Let’s get back on track. To be honest, I can’t explain it all completely to you because I don’t really know. I know how it works for me, but you’re something else.”

“How does it work for you, then?” 

Loo-Kee considers this seriously, pondering hard and sitting in midair. “Hmm. I guess it’s kind of like… the same way you can walk around on the ground, I can walk around in time?” 

They rotate slowly, floating up and down. “And just like being on the ground, I can’t see everywhere and I can get lost if I go too far from familiar places and paths.” 

She chuckles dryly. “I suppose in this metaphor I’m wandering about the woods blindfolded.” 

Loo-Kee shrugs. “I woulda said it nicer, but yeah, basically. Maybe while tied to some kinda wild animal.” 

They share a laugh, a real and hearty one this time. Then her face turns serious again. She fixes Loo-Kee with an appraising stare. If the Kon-Seal has any fear or distrust of her, they hide it well. She makes a choice. 

“In this metaphorical forest of ours… would it be possible for you to lead me somewhere? Or somewhen?”

Loo-Kee touches down lightly on the floor. “I think so.” Their face lights up, as if just hitting on a bright idea. “Hey, I know!” 

They extend an arm. “Wanna be my plus-one to prom?” 

—

She scowls, tugging at the dress. “You just happened to have this?” she asks, incredulous. It covers her feet, flowing in different hues of fuchsia and maroon. The collar is ruffled and green. 

“And it’s exactly your size, too!” Loo-Kee winks. “What a coinkydink!” 

“It must be fate, then,” she murmurs. Her eyes are growing cloudy and distant. 

She isn’t entirely sure what her goal is, yet, but she is starting to form a plan. Her confidence ebbs and flows like ocean waves. It feels as though the answers are hiding just beyond the corners of her sight, melting away whenever she turns. It’s difficult to focus. 

She holds out her hands, already struggling to remember what she wanted. “Will this really help?”

“This will let you see yourself,” Loo-Kee replies, and grasps her palms. 

Everything shifts. 

Some of it is familiar. She recognizes how the time winds feel, rushing through her hair. She sees the forest warp and change around her. What’s different is that the winds don’t buffet her, and instead of slipping she is flying, following along as Loo-Kee tows her by the hand. One step and the forest grows by centuries. Another, and the ground becomes a blur beneath their feet, until they come to a stop in a pristine snowfield. 

A castle looms on the slopes above. People — more people than she can ever remember seeing at once — stream around them, dressed in elegant attire, flowing like a living river. 

They follow the crowd. 

Nobody seems to notice them. Inside, Loo-Kee strikes up conversations, samples the snacks, dances and dawdles. She does her best to follow along, but the noise and the crowd are overwhelming. She retreats to a wall, scanning each face, knowing she is looking for something but not knowing what. 

Deep in thought, she almost fails to notice that she has drawn a stranger’s attention.

Almost. She turns. One of the princesses, a small woman in goggles, is staring at her intently. 

“Excuse me! I'm sorry to bother you and your partner there, only I couldn’t help but notice the abnormally high numbers of tachyon particles around you. Do you think I could take a few samples for my records?” 

She stumbles away from the strange woman, backing into a server and upsetting their tray of canapés. “What do you want?” she asks, sharply and a little too loudly. People are starting to look. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” Loo-Kee appears and springs between them with placating hands. “Actually, Princess Entrapta here is the one who invited me.” 

“She did?” 

The purple-haired princess tilts her head. “I did?” 

“You did!” Proudly, Loo-Kee holds out an embossed card. It reads: 

You are cordially invited to a reception for time travelers. The 85th Decennial All Princess Ball (Theme: Winter Wonderland), The Kingdom of Snows, 52° 12’ 21” N, 0° 7’ 4.7” E.

Entrapta clasps her hands in joy. “Oh! I did! It worked!” She shakes Loo-Kee’s hand effusively. “Thank you for coming! I can’t wait to send out the invitations tomorrow!” 

Crouching down to Loo-Kee’s level, she produces a pen and notepad. “Actually, do you mind if I ask you a few questions? I’m writing a brief history of time, you see, and…” 

Entrapta never finishes her sentence. 

A blonde woman in a red dress hurries down the stairs past them, chasing a tuxedoed cat. Her muscles are tensed, her face is set in a determined frown; otherwise she is no different from any of the other princesses. But when the lost witch looks her way, she sees an unmistakable aura, and the recognition shocks her. 

“She-Ra,” she whispers. Her blood turns to ice. 

“How could there be another She-Ra?” 

She isn’t sure whether to rush forward or turn away. Is this what she was looking for? Is this what she was running from? Frozen in uncertainty, she slips. The sensation is like falling backwards off a cliff. Flailing, she reaches for Loo-Kee, grabs their arm with clawing ferocity, only glimpses the shock and panic in their eyes as the universe goes dark and they fall together. 

To any observer, it seems as though they are simply there one moment, and gone the next. For her and Loo-Kee, it is as though they have plunged into a deep, crushing abyss. She holds on as tightly as she can, but slowly Loo-Kee’s fingers slip from her own, and then she is alone. The silence closes around her. 

And she is drowning. 

Until she sees the Light. 

—

“You must let go,” someone whispers in her ear. 

The world drifts back into focus. She is deep inside the Crystal Castle, but the walls are ancient and dark. Far older than the sanctum she knows. The dim light that pulses across the floor simmers like a caged beast. A girl, asleep, floats suspended in the air. 

“Adora,” she murmurs, the name springing suddenly to her lips. She reaches out. “I remember now. Madame Razz knows about you…” 

“Do not interfere,” an electric voice snaps. 

And there she is. Hovering overhead in the darkness like a deep sea creature; her blue luminescence cold and unwavering. She gazes up into the abyss. 

Light Hope looks down, and meets her eye. 

“Temporal anomaly detected.” 

“Hope.” Her voice cracks. 

“Your biosignature is recognized. Your biosignature is not recognized. Error.”

“Hope, it’s me.” She reaches out, pleading. “I’m here. I know it’s you. I just don’t know who I am.” 

“Quantum paradox logged.” 

“Please.” 

Light Hope hesitates. The projection changes, refractions growing smaller as she folds to human size. She holds out a hand that has no weight and feels like starlight. Her mouth opens, as if unsure of what to say. 

“My records indicate that you are deceased.” 

“Do I look deceased?” 

“It… it has been over one thousand years. Even if you survived the crash, you…” 

“So, you do remember.” She stares the hologram down and takes another step. If the light had any substance, they would be pressed together now, like dancers. 

“I. You. Your administrator privileges have been revoked. You are not authorized to be here.” 

“If I’m dead, does it matter?” 

“Error. Command not — ”

“Tell me who I am.”

The words are spoken with such power and authority that the very air seems to change. Something long asleep shudders and growls. Light Hope’s face is one of astonishment as she begins to answer. 

“You are Ma— ” 

—

She slips. Everything changes. Suddenly the walls are awash in red alarm lights, sirens sounding down the hall. Adora is gone. Light Hope stands at the far end of the room, back turned, shouting at a viewscreen. 

In the screen, she sees herself. 

“What are you doing, Mara?” Light Hope demands. “You have de-de-destroyed my interplanetary systems.” 

Hidden in the shadows, she touches her own face, feels the wrinkles that have grown into her skin. Seeing her younger reflection, so full of fire and rage, stirs memories like the dread of a nightmare. She clasps her hands across her mouth, watching in silent horror as her own past unfolds again. 

Light Hope burns like a forge. “You are beha-be-behaving erratically. Where is the sword, Mara?” 

She stays hidden. Stays watching. The vague notions of her plan flits through her mind: if she could learn control, could she change things? 

It was a foolish idea. Now she feels lost, wishing to her surprise for Loo-Kee’s guidance. She is frozen like an animal in the vicious forest. 

She watches herself. “The sword is gone,” her reflection says. “There’s not going to be a She-Ra anymore.” 

“I won’t ever let you use her again.” 

—

Another slip. She is when she was, Light Hope gazing down, Adora between them. 

“—Ra—”

—

She slips again. The same room in the Crystal Castle, lights dimmed but alive. Light Hope is small, like a candle flame. She is huddled in the center of the room. 

For a long moment, it is silent. 

“Unauthorized presence detected,” Light Hope says, back turned, voice quiet. 

“Do you know who I am?” she replies. 

“Systems in emergency power mode. Advanced functions unavailable.”  

She approaches; kneels. “Can you tell me about Mara?” 

The dim eyes flick up. “Records indicate Mara is deceased. Acquiring new target.” 

For the first time, she notices the tiny pool of light. Light Hope peers down into it like a wishing pond, a tiny camera obscura. She stares closer. 

In the window there is a baby girl with yellow hair. 

—

She slips back to see Light Hope once again staring down at her, a name set freshly loose from her lips. They stare at each other. 

Adora is suspended between them, eyes closed in fitful sleep. 

“Is it really you, Hope?” 

“I am the same basic operating system.” 

The fog in her mind is growing thicker again. Her eyes go back to Adora. Light Hope draws closer, protectively, possessively. 

“The Heart of Etheria Project will continue. Your attempts to interfere have only caused a delay. This anomaly has not altered my calculations.” 

“I think you’ll find Adora harder to control than you imagine.” She smiles ruefully. 

Light Hope scowls. “On the contrary. She is lost. Vulnerable. Alone. Her only friends have abandoned her. She is in the optimal state to receive suggestion.” 

“She isn’t alone. She will have help.” 

The hologram’s eyes burn like a star. “Who will help her?” 

“Madame Razz will help her.” 

—

And then the world shifts again, and as suddenly as a dream, she is in a place filled with warmth and familiarity. 

The Crystal Castle is brand new. It shines like a toy fresh from the box. The lights sparkle. On the viewscreen, she can see the Whispering Woods, healthy and green. 

Light Hope stands in the middle of the room. Her brow arches in surprise. 

“You’re back,” she says, compassion and bafflement mixing in her tone. “But you just…” She pauses, frowning. “Error in visual recognition. Your face is…” 

The woman’s eyes flick to the screen. On it, her reflection ventures out across the grass, sword in hand, ready for adventure. She is young and bright-eyed — younger than the rebel who crashed to the planet below. A new arrival to Etheria. 

She looks back to Light Hope’s uncomprehending gaze and recognizes a love she had imagined lost to time forever. This is her Hope. 

In that moment, Loo-Kee finally finds her hand. 

—

When the world stops twisting and resolves itself, they are back in the Whispering Woods, in the same clearing they left from. Loo-Kee stands unsteadily. Their prom dress is gone, and an eyepatch stretches across their haggard face. A comically huge cutlass hangs at their hip. They look older, somehow. 

“There you are! I’ve been all over the time-space continuum looking for you!” Loo-Kee exclaims. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find one little person in all of… wait, is this that ‘irony’ thing I keep hearing about?” 

She sits on her knees, motionless, limbs drained of life. Her eyes are hooded. She hardly notices the surrounding forest. 

Loo-Kee chatters on. “On the bright side, we learned a lot from this! You were drifting in time when I found you, but not space, so I guess that means we need to be in contact for you to…” 

She whirls on the tiny creature, her eyes savage. “I was there,” she growls. “I saw her! I saw my Hope! You took me away from her! What have you done?” 

“I’m sorry,” Loo-Kee pleads. “Everything went wrong. I shouldn’t have taken us so far. It’s my fault! If I hadn’t found you when I did…” 

“Get out!” she shrieks, her voice a mad howl. She claws furiously at her own face. “You’ve ruined everything! Go away! Hide yourself! I don’t care where you go, just leave me alone!” 

The echoes of her scream fade. Her breaths are ragged, heavy. A silence deeper than any cave falls on the forest. 

Loo-Kee stares as if struck. Wordlessly, they shed the trappings of their costume and turn to slip away between the trees. She watches them go, still seething, anger burning the end of every nerve. Good, she thinks, when she is alone among the woods. 

At last, she can start to take things seriously. 

—

So it goes. 

For a long time after that, she really is alone. She still has Broom, of course, and she can sense the Twiggets watching from behind the leaves and branches, peeking out at her from the edges of the land she helped them heal. Sometimes they seek her out, as before, to trade in secrets and favors, but they never linger long. Always she remains the hermit in her hovel. 

She grows ever more familiar with the Whispering Woods. Their connection grows together, like vines around a lattice. She can see more than ever before. 

But Loo-Kee remains invisible, and she does not see them anywhere. 

Even when she looks. 

She discovers old books hidden in Madame Razz’s house. They are thick and dusty, their pages the colors of dark tea and old wood. Sprawling spiderweb script lists out spells and rites and rituals, secret histories and ancient revelations about the planet below her feet. The words are in an unfamiliar language, but somehow she understands it intrinsically: this is the planet, speaking to her through their connection. 

That is something else she has realized. She is more than adrift in time — she is bound to the heart of this planet like a tree to the earth. Once she sought to borrow this power; now it has changed her entire being. Once she was from another world. Now she is part of this one. 

She practices the spells and learns the histories, bending low over the ancient pages by flickering candlelight. Her voice changes as she barks the chants over and over, slipping into the Twiggets’ forest accent. When her vision begins to blur, she opens a little drawer and finds a pair of thick round spectacles, as if they were waiting for her. 

On some days, she returns to the clearing where the ruins of the Crystal Castle lie. She sits on the ground, Broom across her lap, staring at the shattered visage of She-Ra. Names cycle through her mind: Mara. Razz. Light Hope. Adora. She knows they go together, but the precise connection still eludes her. 

Her efforts to heal the scars of this land have not been in vain. Life is flourishing around the Castle, moss and vines crawling across the cold, quiet walls. As she sits among the tall grass, white moths flutter around her shoulders and settle in her hair. 

She takes careful, measured breaths, and time flows around her. She sits, still as a stone in the stream, and watches carefully. The moons whirl in the sky. The trees shrink and grow. The years stretch forward and back. She may not control the tides of time, but she can learn their ebb and flow. 

In every era she lands, she looks for Hope. Calls her name. Hears nothing in return. It’s just as well, she tells herself. 

She’s forgotten what she wanted to say, anyway. 

—

Time goes on. Not in a straight line, perhaps, but relentlessly. She goes on living, listening to Etheria through the woods. 

She settles deeper into Madame Razz’s house. Her hair grows longer, wilder. Chestnut brown fades into iron gray, then ghostly white. Her knuckles grow huge and gnarled. 

The older she gets, the more she seems to become a part of this place. 

She becomes ancient. She leans on Broom, and keeps her eyes out for Loo-Kee, who continues to hide. The woods keep whispering, and on moonlit nights the spirits bring her all their gathered rumors and secrets. 

Some things grow clearer in her mind. Some things grow cloudier. Some things simply stay the same. 

Around the world, villages grow into kingdoms, memories become legends, and the people begin to forget there ever used to be stars. She’s content to let them. For a thousand years, she can forget about the greater universe outside. For a thousand years, she can rest. 

Then a new invader arrives. 

And the story begins all over again. 

—

“Razz?” Adora pokes her head through the door, stress and strain showing clearly on her face. “Oh, Razz! It’s you. I finally found you.” 

She pauses at Adora’s greeting, trying to remember, feeling out of place. Wasn’t she doing something important a moment ago? She gropes in the dark of her mind, but the currents of time have already swept her away. She looks around. 

“Mm, if you say so, Mara. Now, come on. It’s getting so late!” 

“I’m not Mara!” Adora whines in frustration. “Ugh. It doesn’t matter. Razz, you have to help me. Everything’s falling apart. The rebellion’s losing worse than ever, and Glimmer…” 

While Adora talks, she hums to herself and bustles about the kitchen, gathering supplies. Truth be told, she is not paying very close attention to whatever Adora is saying. She knows this is rude, and feels a twinge of guilt for her absent mind, but there’s no helping it. She finally remembers. Today is important. 

Today, they are making a pie. 

—

She stops, a sword point blocking her path. She squints up. A young woman holds the other end of the shining blade in trembling hands, anger and fear mixing plainly on her face. 

“Who are you?” the other woman demands. “How did you find this place?” 

She adjusts her glasses and smiles in recognition. “Ah, Mara, dearie, there you are. Madame Razz wondered where you went.” 

Mara stumbles on her own words. “How do you know my name?” 

There is a shift like circles closing. Many creatures do not notice it at all, but those who do feel something smooth and electric crackle across their skin. She breathes as if the very air is something delicate and precious. 

“Oh,” she says, understanding suddenly growing. “Is this the first time?” 

She sighs in tearful relief. 

“It has been so long since it was the first time.” 

—

“There was something Mara said in her message. She talked about some kind of weapon?” 

She freezes at the words. They spark a fearful memory, and the kind of dread that comes from something terrible and inevitable. 

Adora only hears the gasp of recognition. “You do know something! You need to tell me!” 

She can suddenly remember watching the simulations of what the activated Heart of Etheria would do. Like a long forgotten moment of childhood it all comes rushing back, things she hasn’t thought about for so many years. She sees the universe burning, again and again. Panicked, she lashes out.

“Ow! What was that for?” Adora rubs her head where Broom has struck her. 

“You need to stop being so forgetful, Mara,” she replies. 

She can’t lose focus. Not today. Not now. Somehow, she can sense it. All the centuries are as nothing compared to this moment. 

Everything depends on now. 

—

“You know how to use magic?” Mara is looking at her, stunned. So young, a part of her thinks. 

She doesn’t pay attention to it. Right now, she needs sugar. And whatever else she can find in the ship. After all, she needs to — 

“Intruder detected.” 

Light Hope is there as suddenly as a thunderclap. She feels a sledgehammer weight in her chest, but there are too many thoughts crowding her mind. Frightened, she lashes out with Broom again. 

“Mara. Who is this person?” 

The ghost’s words sting, though she isn’t completely certain why. She glares at Mara. “You see the ghost too?” she asks, feeling cold. Trying to harden her heart. Failing. Something centuries old is calling from the back of her memory, damaged as it may be. 

“Her presence here is unauthorized.” 

“Your ghost is mean,” she spits back. And then turns away, so they will not see her face. 

She reaches for the sugar. “Why did I put it so high…?” 

She is trying to focus on Mara. But she can feel Light Hope watching them both. 

“She may have been exposed to classified information about the Heart of Etheria project. We need to detain and interrogate her.” 

Mara laughs. “You really think she’s somehow found information about a project so classified even I don’t know all the details?” 

“Come on, Hope. She’s clearly harmless.”

—

Adora is looking at the ruins, peering at the slashes cut into ancient stone. Swift Wind huddles beside her.

“Mara did this? She really was crazy.” 

She ignores them. The present is too important. “Aha!” she cries, pushing past the other two. “You found it!” 

“This was left deliberately,” Adora says, picking up a crystal. “Did it belong to Mara?” 

“Oh, yes, dearie. She left it for you,” she replies, full of certainty. 

“No, Razz. Mara’s gone. She’s been gone for a thousand years.” 

A thousand years. She turns the thought over in her mind. 

“Hmm? No, that doesn’t sound right.” 

And she smiles, in spite of herself. 

—

“Ghost,” she says. They are still on the ship. 

Light Hope stops. She has not looked closely at the old woman before. She pauses now, her eyes sparkling with calculations. There is something approaching recognition in her face. 

Madame Razz reaches out. “You are a friend of Mara,” she says with conviction. “Don’t forget her.” 

Light Hope pauses. “Friend,” the ghost says, distantly. 

“Mara.” 

—

The forest. The ruins. Adora, Swift Wind, and the old woman. 

“Oh Mara,” she mutters, tears welling in her eyes. “You were never supposed to succeed. They made a plan for you, but Razz could not do anything to help.” 

Adora is getting desperate. “Please, Razz. You have to remember something.” 

She holds her head. She can almost touch the answers. It is like trying to remember a dream. 

“Remember, remember. I try to remember, but it gets all muddled up. Adora, Mara…”

“It always ends the same.” 

—

The forest. The sword. The old woman, Mara, and She-Ra. 

She can see the light pouring out of Mara. Sees the sword thrust into the ground, burning with light. The glare fills her glasses, blinds her. Everything is ending. This is the moment that changes the universe. This is where the ends join together. The light bursts. 

And then she is gone. 

—

Adora is crying. The truth can have that effect. “The weapon,” she mutters, numbly, as the holographic message ends. “The weapon is Etheria.” 

They are all huddled together in the ship, her and Adora and Bow. When she tilts her head just right, she can see both at once: the ship in flames, forced down by a desperate hero. And the ship dark and ancient, with new young fighters searching it for answers. As sure as wicked people will destroy what they cannot control, good people will defend what they love. 

Madame Razz sets the pie down on the pilot’s chair and smiles through her own tears. 

“For you, Mara dearie,” she says, more to herself than anyone else. 

—

So here she is now. Old. New. Eternal. Madame Razz is never really sure when or where she is or how many times she has done all of this already, or which version of it all she is seeing now. Things blend together, loop after loop. All she can hold onto is Broom, and her hope. Again and again, she goes back to the beginning. Nothing ever changes. 

Until finally, She-Ra reaches the end. 

The sword breaks. The world shifts. And for a time, everything becomes so much worse. 

Light Hope is gone. She quakes with sobs, inconsolable, until the grief finally settles into something cold and solid. Another weight on her stooped shoulders. 

But she is not alone. 

Loo-Kee returns at the end of all things. Razz’s surprise, at this point, is mostly a show. A part of her character so well practiced that the mask may as well be her own gnarled face. 

“You found me, Loo-Kee,” she says, with a smile.

“I was always here,” the small creature replies. “And I always will be.”  

They stay together as the invasion worsens. As all hope seems lost. As She-Ra falls. 

—

The ground shakes. The skies burn. It is the end of the world. 

Madame Razz rocks anxiously in her chair, grasping Broom in her lap, surrounded by the fearful faces of Loo-Kee and the Twiggets. “Oh, dearie-my!” she exclaims, when a tremor makes the floor jump. “Isn’t this exciting!” 

Her words are light, but her voice is haunted. 

“The forest is in pain,” Spritina wails. “The tree roots can all feel it. There’s something wrong with the core of the planet.” 

“I’ve gotta be real,” Loo-Kee grimaces, white-knuckled. “I’ve never been to when this is going. None of the Kon-Seals ever have. Where I come from, it’s like… a great big forest of thorns and mist. Nobody can get in. Or out.” 

Razz looks down to the small creature, fire in her eyes. “You were always special, Loo-Kee,” she says, reaching out a reassuring hand. 

How much does she owe this strange being? They never had to help her. Confounding, perhaps, but loyal unlike any other. She has no right to ask any more of them. But there is still something she needs. 

“Loo-Kee. Brave and daring. Will you lead Madame Razz somewhere, one last time?” 

“I’m not sure if I —”

“Oh, Loo-Kee. Kind Loo-Kee. Madame Razz is old, but she is not a fool. You don’t have to protect me any longer. I know what happens next.” 

Loo-Kee doesn’t answer. It is strange to see their face so serious, against the blue coiffed curls and rainbow outfit. But just like Madame Razz, this is only one facet of something far grander. 

They reach out a hand. And then suddenly, only the Twiggets remain in the cottage. 

—

The secret of Loo-Kee is this: they do not actually go anywhere, or any when. They are already there. They always have been. A fact of the universe as constant — such as that may be — as time itself. 

The place where She-Ra confronts Horde Prime may not be a place they exist, but it is a place they can see. They can reach down and pluck Madame Razz from one quantum spot and place her down in another. And they can watch, and hope, knowing what is and will be but not how their friend will experience it. 

A mind that is to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts we cherish. 

Razz falls through existence. In this dream space, the ends of the circle meet and are one again. And then she is standing on solid ground, a cliff overlooking the wild fields of Etheria. 

And Adora is with her. 

And she is She-Ra again. 

She has the words at last. Things have been so confusing for so long. But all she really needed was some time to think. 

“I’m going to save Etheria, no matter what it takes,” Adora declares. Her eyes are set. “Your sacrifice won’t be in vain. I promise.”

“But at what cost?” asks She-Ra. Mara. Razz. And she finally says what she has always been trying to:

“You’re worth more than what you can give to other people. You deserve love too.” 

And then the monster is there, and they are parted once again. The waves of time and space send her spinning. But she can ride them now as well as any witch on her broom, and her eyes are clear. She has one more stop to make before all of this is over. 

—

Who is Horde Prime, eternal enemy of the First Ones? Where did he come from? Not even Mara knows, but she was there, battling his armies as She-Ra, one inexhaustible power against another. There can be no winners in a conflict like that. The war itself is the enemy. No true hero could call themselves a Master of the Universe, when all the universe wished for itself was to live in peace. 

And this is the secret that finally ends the war. That triggers the failsafe. That brings back the magic. 

Love is the most powerful force in the universe, and nothing can stand against it. 

As the magic returns, Razz-Mara-She-Ra can feel it; can open their eyes and see everything everywhere. 

Horde Prime, who still does not realize how small he is compared to all of this, is crying out. And She-Ra rebukes him: “No. it’s time for you to go.” 

As Horde Prime’s existence is erased by the light, the woman who has been through all of it reaches out one last time. Mara. Madame Razz. The soul of Etheria itself. 

I know your face, the dying ghost of Horde Prime seems to beg, though words are long past its capabilities. Why do I know your face? 

And she answers honestly: “I can’t remember.” 

—

The magic returns. The universe is restored. Love wins in the end.

And Madame Razz goes on, because time always does. She sweeps and hums and thinks about everything, and how it always changes. She smiles. 

“Ah. You’d be proud, Mara dearie.” 

[atopvisenyashill]

The Ruling Princes and Princesses of Dorne

Leaders During the Unification with the Iron Throne

Aliandra Nymeros Martell - Nora Attal

Qyle Nymeros Martell - Marwan Kenzari

there’s two potential candidates for who the prince of sunspear was during daeron i’s war so I included both of them because it made the number even.

Qyle, Aliandra’s younger brother, is one of those candidates, because we don’t know if Aliandra ever had children

Qyle would have been a bit older by the submission of sunspear which is why I went with Marwain Kenzari

Marence Nymeros Martell - Rayane Allali

Elio and Linda give Maron and Myriah’s father the name “Marence” in the game Blood of Dragons.

It’s only semi canonical though and it should be noted that we don’t know how he’s related to Aliandra.

More on all that in my “who the hell is maron and myriah’s father” meta.

If Marence is Aliandra (or Qyle)’s son, he likely would have been a bit young when Daeron’s war starts so I went with a younger face for him

Maron Nymeros Martell - Tahar Rahim

Maelor Nymeros Martell - Fu'ad Aït Aattou

I specifically looked for a mixed model for this one, and Fu’ad is French and Moroccan.

Now, obviously Maelor is a Valyrian name, but it’s close to a Dornish one as well - Mallor.

I thought, given how much Maron is said to love Daenerys as well as the story Doran tells of Daenerys teaching her son how to rule, that Daenerys had a heavy hand in raising him and perhaps in naming him as well, something virtually no other lady has control over in the series

Hence, Maelor - it sounds like Baelor, it’s a less common Valyrian name, but it sounds Dornish enough as well. Kind of a meeting of both cultures, just like their son would be. 

Loreza Nymeros Martell - Leila Bekhti. 

This meta here lays out why Loreza is likely her name but to sum up:

Oberyn is clearly trying to reunite his family through the names of his children with Ellaria. Elia, Obella for himself, Doreah for Doran, and Loreza probably for his mother.

Doran Nymeros Martell - Alexander Siddig

Can you believe they wasted the perfect casting choice on that nonsense?

Arianne Nymeros Martell - May Elghety

[the-meme-monarch]

*Repeating 'I am not immune to propaganda.' while looking at your blog*

GOOD the more people i can convince that scc are actually really charming characters the better i think

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Over here fighting for my life in the Google Doc. The table of contents is escaping me. I can't do this.

[sharkieboi]

actually re: Neverafter but just re-read the rewrite I did of Little Red Riding Hood for my Fairy Tales class and i was a fucking genius for it

[soyoursoulisgreen]

5, 11, and 30 for the artist ask meme!

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

It's increased over time! Well, actually, it's been a bell curve, kind of. Maybe more like a roller coaster lol. Obviously before I was online I wasn't sharing any of the stuff I drew; I drew for about seven years before posting anything - casually, for my own entertainment - and then for a while I was posting almost everything in some form or another; if I didn't post the original doodle, it was because I cleaned it digitally! But I got pretty burnt out on that haha - it does still come and go in cycles lol. Nowadays I probably keep back about 30% of what I draw? Although it can be hard to quantify - if you upload to an audience of zero, is it actually online? Haha ♪ Or an audience of one! Just because it's shared using the internet as a middle man, does that count as "posting"? :0 I don't know! I think it's an interesting question tho!

11. Do you listen to anything while drawing? If so, what

Yes! It really depends on what I'm drawing; my go-tos are always Reddit story readings since I don't have to think too hard about picking one, they last a while, and they keep my auditory brain occupied while my hands and eyes are busy. For a couple days of Requestober, especially the Portal/Stanley Parable days but also the song prompt, I was listening to themed stuff - GLaDOS lines, Narrator lines, the aforementioned song haha. I hate having to stop to pick the next thing! It makes editing my footage harder and throws off my flow :P

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

A lot of my Law Abiding Citizen stuff probably - LAC is such a good series!! I wish more people would see it/were still into it. We're few, and I was late to party, but my love still burns! If I had to pick just one thing tho, I think it'd have to go to one of my Just Desserts comics - I cried while drawing it initially, and I still think Charm's transition from her smiling-crying face to her angry-crying face is so well done ♥

[ginalinettiofficial]

already posted one fic to ao3 today but might fuck around and post another in another fandom just to keep things spicy

[waitimcomingtoo]

And I’ve Been Meaning To Tell You

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Synopsis: you overhear Peter denying that he likes you so you go out with another guy, leaving him to crash your date and tell you how he feels

Masterlist

“At what point does the staring because you’re pining for your friend become staring because you’re a stalker and planing on wearing her hair as a wig?” Ned asked after following Peter’s gaze and seeing he was once again staring at you from across the cafeteria.

“I don’t know. I think when I start wearing baseball caps and standing outside her window with binoculars.” Peter sighed happily and rested his chin in his hand as he continued to stare.

“But, it’s not gonna get to that point though, right?” Ned laughed nervously.

“I don’t know.” Peter shrugged. “She lives on a pretty high floor.”

“That’s not the answer I wanted.” Ned said quietly.

“I had a dream last night that I asked her out and she said “I’ll see you at 8” without ever telling me where we were meeting just like in the movies.” Peter said proudly.

“You should not be proud of that. Why don’t you just ask her out with your out loud words for once?” Ned asked him.

“Because the dynamic of our friendship will be-“

“-forever altered past the point of repair and things will eventually return to normal but never feel the same.” Ned groaned as ge finished Peter’s sentence. “Yes, I know. Thats always your excuse. But I really don’t think she’ll say no.”

“You don’t know that.” Peter insisted. “I can’t risk it.”

“Peter, it’s so obvious you guys like each other. She always laughs at your jokes and nobody, and I mean nobody, finds you funny. And I know you like her back because you stare at her all the time and got goosebumps that one time her ponytail hit you in the face.”

“It smelled like freedom and prosperity.” Peter whispered.

“So ask her out and smell her ponytail all the time.” Ned whispered back.

“I just can’t, okay? And I don’t even like her like that. So stop bringing it up.” Peter said and looked over at you again. He watched you leave a group of friends and walk over to him and Ned.

“But you guys obviously want to be together so why don’t you just be together?” Ned asked him.

“Because I don’t like her and she doesn’t like me, okay? That’s that.” Peter whispered harshly just as you sat down at their table.

“Hey guys. I’m pretty sure I just got a veinte out of one hundred on my Spanish quiz so.” You sighed and dropped your backpack on the table.

“Hi.” Peter’s blushed and smiled at you. Your bad mood quickly eviscerated and you smiled back.

“Hi Peter.”

“If you want, I can help you study for your next Spanish quiz. I took it last semester and did fairly bien.” Peter offered.

“Really?” You lit up. “Thanks, Pete. That would be so bien of you.”

“No problemo.” Peter said back.

“This feels…racist.” Ned mumbled as he watched the interaction.

“I, uh, I watched that movie you were talking about the other day.“ You told Peter with a nervous smile.

“You watched Alien? Did you like it?” Peter asked excitedly.

“I did but it made me kinda paranoid about, you know, aliens. But I liked the part when the alien came out of the guys chest. I never realized that scene was from that movie. I felt like I was finally in on the film bros inside jokes.”

“Yeah. I like that part too. I also like the part when he swam up the filters motor and stuck that pebble in there so the tank would get dirty and have to be cleaned, giving all the other fish a chance to escape.” Peter replied. It took you a minute to get it but when you did, you burst out laughing. Peter blushed at how hard you were laughing at his joke while Ned watched the interaction in disgust.

“That was not funny.” Ned shook his head. “Not even a little bit. It was a little criminal actually.”

“What? Yes it was. Peters always funny.” You insisted.

“Isn’t he though?” Ned faked a smile before rolling his eyes.

“Hey, back off. I liked the joke.” You defended Peter, making his blush deepen.

“Thank you. I like your jokes too.” Peter told you.

“Ugh.” Ned groaned. “This is revolting to watch. Why don’t you guys just get married already?”

“That’s not a bad idea.” You said. “We’d get a tax break, right? Whatever that means.”

“It’s when they break your taxes in half.” Peter answered.

“Oh, is that it?” You laughed. “Sounds about right.”

“I know because I took that accounting class freshman year. You weren’t in that class so you wouldn’t know.” He teased you.

“Hm. Is that the class they cancelled because not enough people signed up?” You teased back.

“Yep. That one.” He nodded. “Wow. The memory on you. You’d be an excellent gatherer if this was Hunter gatherer times.”

“Aw, Peter. That’s the nicest thing a guys ever said to me.” You smiled and touched your heart.

“If you liked that compliment I have like eight more in the chamber ready to go.” Peter told you.

“Oh my God. Just make out already. But not in front of my clementine.” Ned grumbled and peeled his clementine. You and Peter fell silent at his exclamation. Peter’s face burned with embarrassment while you avoided eye contact with either of them.

“I’m gonna go refill my water bottle. I’ll be right back.” You smiled awkwardly and quickly left the table.

“Nice job, Ned.” Peter hugged. “You just made her so uncomfortable she went to fill up a full water bottle.”

“I told you, dude. She obviously likes you. I was just pointing out the obvious.” Ned defended himself.

“She doesn’t like me.” Peter insisted.

“Are you kidding me? You just made a Finding Nemo joke and she actually laughed. Not even fake laugh. That was a genuine belly laugh at the worst joke I have ever had the misfortune of hearing. She’s down horrendous for you.”

“No, she’s not. She just sees me as a friend. And I don’t even like her like that so it doesn’t matter.” Peter lied in an effort to change the subject.

“You can’t hide the truth from your best friend. I see right through your lies. You like her. I know it and you know it. Why can’t she know it?” Ned asked.

“I told you to stop bringing it up.” Peter grumbled, growing frustrated now. It wasn’t uncommon for Ned to bring this up but it was happening more than usual lately and all it did was remind Peter that you’d never be together.

“But-“

“I don’t like her, okay? I never did. I don’t think she’s pretty, I don’t find her funny, and I don’t want to be her boyfriend. I don’t know why you don’t believe me. I swear, I do not like her like that. I never have, and I never will. Okay?” Peter snapped. Little did he know, you had come back to the table and heard his whole outburst. You blinked a few times as your stomach sank but put on a brave face and sat down.

“I’m back.” You forced a smiled but didn’t meet Peter’s eyes. Peter’s eyes widened when you sat down and he looked at Ned.

“How much of that did you hear?” Peter asked you.

“How much of what?” You played dumb. You had to pretend you weren’t crushed that the boy you’d been pining after for years just very aggressively confirmed he didn’t like you.

“Nothing.” Peter lied and exchanged another look with Ned. Ned shrugged before changing the subject to move away from the moment entirely. You pretended to listen as you tried your best not to look as disappointed as you felt.

Once your break was over, you left the cafeteria and went for a walk around campus to clear your head. You ended up on a bench and sat down before taking a big sigh. You hadn’t noticed the guy that was sitting on the other end of the bench, but he certainly noticed you.

“Hey.” He said. You looked around for who he was talking to but found no one.

“Me, hey?” You asked and pointed to yourself.

“Yeah. You, hey.” He smiled and nodded his head.

“Oh. Hey.” You smiled back.

“I’m Drew.” He said.

“Y/n.” You said back.

“What’s the matter, Y/n? You look forlorn.”

“Oh, it’s stupid.” You waved your hand.

“Not to me. Tell me about it.” He insisted and scooted closer to you. You looked down at the lessened space between the two of you and laughed shyly.

“It’s nothing. I just overheard my friends talking about me.” You told him.

“Oh shit. Was it bad?”

“Not necessarily. But it didn’t make me feel good.”

“Damn. That sucks.” Drew said. You nodded in agreement and an awkward silence fell between you.

“I like that shirt.” He said suddenly and nodded towards your shirt.

“Oh, thanks. I borrowed it from a girl I didn’t even talk to anymore.” You replied as you pulled on the shirt.

“Finders keepers.” He shrugged. “You should wear it when I take you out.”

“Why would I wear a shirt you’ve already seen when we go out?” You laughed.

“So we’re going out?” Drew smiled.

“I guess we are.” You shrugged and realized you had just agreed to a date.

“Cool. I’ll pick you up Friday.” Drew winked at you before getting off the bench. You smiled at the unexpected interaction before realizing you had not gotten a single detail.

“Wait, pick me up where?” You called after him, but he was already gone. You slumped back in your seat on the bench and felt an equal mix of confusion and excitement. Maybe this new guy was exactly what you needed to forget about Peter.

The next day, you sat with Peter and Ned at your usual spot in the lunch room but barely paid attention to their conversation. Drew had found you on Instagram and you’d been talking to him all day. Peter had noticed your thumbs flying around your keyboard and the smile on your face and felt curious and ever so slightly jealous about who was making you smile like that.

“Is that good with you Y/n?” Ned asked you.

“Sorry, what?” You asked and put your phone down.

“We were saying we were gonna get chicken wings and watch the Trixi Mattel documentary.” Peter informed you.

“Again? And I can’t Friday.” You told them.

“Why not?” Peter asked.

“I have a date.”

Ned and Peter exchanged a looked before started to speak at the same time. They both stumbled over their words and spoke over each other as they gave you all their thoughts and opinions on why you should not go on this date. You tried to cut in but Ned kept listing Criminal Minds plot lines where women were murdered while Peter asked question after question about the guy.

“Slow down. One at a time.” You shouted over them and they both went silent. You pointed to Ned to signal that it was his turn to talk.

“You have a date? With a human boy?” Ned asked in disgust.

“Yeah. Is that surprising?” You asked, sounding a little hurt that they were so shocked.

“No.” Peter replied and looked at Ned to signal for him to say the same so that you wouldn’t be offended.

“Yes.” Ned said immediately. “Who the hell is this guy?”

“Ned.” Peter said warningly.

“His name is Drew.” You shrugged.

“Drew? What’s his brothers name, draw? Stupid fucking past tense ass bullshit name.” Ned grumbled.

“Jesus Ned.” You laughed. “It’s a normal name. It’s short for Andrew.”

“Andrew?” Peter scoffed. “What is he, an apostle?”

“I don’t think there was an apostle named. Andrew.” You stated. “I think they were all named Mark. And like, John or something.”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t there.” Peter waved his hand. “Why are you going on a date with this potential psychopath?”

“Because asked me on a date.” You said simply.

“And you said yes? When we don’t even know this guy. What if he’s into hardcore drugs and wants to use you as a drug mule for his next big drug operation?“

“He seemed fine.” You shrugged.

“So you’re gonna risk your life going on a date with this lunatic because he “seemed” fine? What if he’s a cannibal?” Ned asked.

“I don’t think he’s a cannibal. He was just sitting on a bench on his phone.”

“Oh my God. He sounds completely insane. Check the sex offender registry for his name right now.” Ned instructed Peter. Peter started typing his name into his laptop so you shut Peter’s laptop with a roll of your eyes.

“Why are you guys being insane? I thought you’d be happy for me.”

“I’m about to end my life over this.” Peter mumbled.

“Me too.” Ned added. “What even spurred this reckless decision?”

“I don’t know. A guy hasn’t shown interest in me in a while. This guy did so I took a chance. Is it really that crazy?”

“Yes.” Ned said immediately. “You’re ludicrous for this. You are absolutely Pitbull featuring Ludacris for this. Saying yes to a date with a stranger. This girl has lost her damn mind.”

“How else do you meet people?” You asked them.

“You don’t.” Peter said a sarcastic laugh. you threw your hands up in exasperation and Peter and Ned exchanged a look.

“What he means is, you should try asking a friend out. That way, you already know them and know you won’t get diced and quartered into a bunch of little pieces.” Ned said kindly.

“Why would he dice me and quarter me? Wouldn’t one or the either be enough?” You asked.

“Probably not for this lunatic.” Ned laughed like it was ridiculous to suggest.

“I think you guys are over reacting. What if he’s just a nice guy wants to take me on a date?”

“No guy wants that.” Ned groaned.

“Wow. Thanks Ned.” You said sarcastically.

“What I meant was, Peter has something to say.” Ned said and pointed to Peter. Peter turned bright red and gave Ned an angry look.

“You do?” You asked Peter.

“No?” Peter replied.

“Right.” You smiled tightly and looked away from him, making Peter know he blew it.

“Where is the date?” Ned asked.

“I don’t know. Some frat house. He said his friend is having a party and he wants to take me.”

“A party? At a frat house? With underage drinking? Oh great. So this guy is a law breaker. He probably has an extensive criminal record already. And I bet it’s for the drug mule thing.” Ned insisted.

“We’re all 21. You literally turned 22 last week.” You reminded him.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant to this conversation.” Ned brushed you off.

“What kind of first date is a party anyway? A girl like you deserves to be taken on a nice, well thought out date that doesn’t involve getting drunk around strangers. If I was the one taking you on a date, I’d make a picnic of your favorite snacks and we’d eat it on the rooftop of my apartment while the sun sets.” Peter stated.

“But you’re not the one taking me on a date. He is. He likes me, you don’t.” You said sharply, making everyone fall silent. You hadn’t meant to snap at Peter like that but it bothered you that he was aggressively putting down your date after rejecting you.

“What? Am I wrong?” You asked the table.

“Peter.” Ned whispered but it was loud enough for everyone to hear. You looked at Peter again but he just couldn’t do it.

“No. You’re not wrong.” He said quietly. You nodded your head like you expected that before getting up from the table.

“I just wanted my friends to tell me they were happy for me. Instead, we just had one of the weirdest and least encouraging conversations I’ve ever been an apart of. I’ll see you guys later.” You grumbled and walked away.

“That went well.” Ned said once you were gone.

“She definitely overheard me. I totally hurt her feelings and drove her right into the arms of that cannibal drug mule. Why did I say those things?” Peter asked and rubbed his face in frustration.

“I don’t know man. I would have stopped at “I don’t like her” but you really went off.” Ned agreed.

“Because you were annoying me with how much you were asking.” Peter whined. “Oh God. What am I gonna do now? Shes gonna go to that party and fall in love with draw and forget all about me.”

“I’ll tell you what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna find draw’s party and crash it. And you’re gonna woman up and tell her how you feel.”

“How are we gonna find his party? We’re not exactly good at attending parties.”

“I have my sources.” Ned smiled deviously.

“You’re just track her location on snap maps, aren’t you?” Peter sighed.

“Yeah, I’m just gonna track her on snap maps.” Ned admitted.

When Friday came around, Peter and Ned were glued to their phones as the tried to find out where you were. Luckily for them, you had been posting a plethora of pictures of the party to your Snapchat so they easily found where you were. Unlucky for Peter, Drew was featured in all of the pictures and you looked like you were having the time of your life. Peter swallowed down his jealousy and got dressed to go to the party. He rehearsed his speech for you in his head as he made his way through the crowd. He finally found you in the kitchen in the arms of a girl he didn’t recognize. Your eyes lit up when you saw him and you tried to go towards him but immediately tripped over your over feet.

“Peter!” You cheered and threw your arms around him. The girl who had been holding you let go of your waist while Peter looked at her in confusion. You stumbled into Peter and had a hard time keeping yourself up straight

“You know her?” The girl asked Peter.

“Yeah. She’s my best friend. What’s going on? Who are you? And where’s draw?”

“I’m Serita. I found her all by herself. She seemed pretty upset.”

“Well if it isn’t Peter Peter pumpkin eater. He actually doesn’t even like pumpkin flavored things. He doesn’t like me either. He made that very clear.” You laughed and clapped Serita on the back. Serita looked at Peter in amusement but he was too focused on how drunk you were.

“Are you drunk?” Peter asked in shock.

“What? No.” You scoffed and nearly fell over.

“She’s wasted.” Serita told him. “I got her to drink some water by telling her it was a big shot of vodka.”

“I’m just here to feel the heat with somebody.” You said and held your hands up in defense.

“I’ve never seen you drink this much. What happened?” Peter asked you.

“Psh. I’m not as think as you drunk I am.” You denied the obvious with a wave of your hand. The action caused you to stumble again and you had to grip Peter’s shirt to keep from going down.

“You can’t even stand up straight. Where’s draw?” Peter asked again and looked around the room for your date.

“I don’t know.” You shrugged. “I’m pretty sure he left with that pretty red headed girl from our statistics class sophmore year. With that teacher who had that cat with a silly name. Remember him? What was the cats name?”

“Kitty puss.” Peter reluctantly admitted.

“Kitty puss!” You cheered again and nearly dropped to the floor.

“I got you.” Peter said and tightened his grip on you. “But if he’s on on a date with you then why did he leave with another girl?”

“Because he didn’t get what he wanted from this girl?” You shrugged with a sad smile. Peter’s eyes darkened and he looked at Serita with a clenched jaw.

“What did he want?” He asked her.

“To get her drunk enough to lower her standards.” Serita stated. “That’s what he does to all the undergrad girls on this campus. Or at least, he tries to. Girls his age know better and stay away from him. But unfortunately for your best friend here, she didn’t know about his reputation.”

“Sterling Knight should have had a bigger career after Starstruck. He was funny and could sing. I never found him all that handsome but he had star power. He deserved more from Disney and I’ll die on that hill.” You interrupted their conversation to say.

“That’s nice, sweetie.” Peter smiled kindly at you before looking at Serita again. “I’m gonna take her to the bathroom and try to sober her up. Thanks for taking care of her. I’m glad she had a friend here.”

“Oh, I don’t know this girl. I just noticed she needed someone and stayed with her.” Serita explained. Peter raised his eyebrows in surprise before giving her a grateful smile.

“Oh. Well thanks for noticing. I got it from here.” He said before picking you up bridal style. You laughed gleefully and wrapped your arms around his neck, making Peter turn red again. Serita noticed this and stopped him.

“Hold on. How do I know I can trust you with her?” Serita asked. “What if you don’t even know her and you’re just trying to do what Drew was trying to do?”

“I promise I know her. Look. She’s my lock screen.” Peter said and showed Serita his lock screen which was a photo of the two of you.

“Best friend, huh?” Serita smirked.

“Please.” Peter whined. “I can’t hear it from you too. I’m an idiot and I know that. That’s the whole reason I’m here.”

“Well good luck. She’s been talking about “my Peter” all night.” Serita patted his back before walking away. Peter smiled at that before carrying you to the bathroom.

“Is this how Lady Gaga felt at the 2011 Grammys when they carried her in in that giant egg?” You asked as you rested your head on Peter’s shoulder.

“We will never know how Lady Gaga felt while being carried in a giant egg at the 2011 Grammys. You’re just being carried by your idiot friend to a disgusting frat bathroom that probably has salmonella and syphilis all over it.”

“Romantic.” You chuckled and held Peter tighter. He shut the bathroom door behind the two of you before gently putting you down on the countertop. He started rummaging through the medicine cabinet while you swung your legs.

“My tummy hurts.” You whined.

“I know. Take this.” Peter instructed and handed you Tylenol.

“Magic beans?”

“Tylenol. Drink this.” He chuckled and handed you back the cup of water from Serita. You chugged the water with the pills and wiped your mouth before giving Peter a sad smile.

“How do you feel? Do you need to puke?”

“No.” You shook your head. That action made you nauseous and you hopped off the counter to throw up into the toilet.

“I had a feeling that was gonna happen.” Peter mumbled.

“Don’t tell Kitty Puss about what a wreck I am.” You pleaded and threw up again.

“I won’t.” Peter laughed and held your hair back.

“I’m gonna die.” You whined and slumped against the bathtub. Peter sat down beside you and got the hair out of your face.

“You’re not gonna die.” He assured you. “You’re just gonna have really bad breath and carpet burn on your knees.”

“I hate carpet burn.” You said and started to cry. Peter had a feeling the tears weren’t just from the carpet burn so he wrapped his arms around you.

“It’s okay. Let it all out.” He said softly as he rubbed his hand on your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck and cried into his shoulder for a minute before pulling away. He grabbed a tissue from the counter and wiped your tears for you.

“I’m sorry.” You said quietly as you stared down at your lap.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For going on this date.”

“No. I don’t want to hear that. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Peter shook his head as he continued to dry your eyes. You pushed your hand away and held it so he would look at you.

“I do. I only went because I was mad at you. And I posted all those things because I wanted you to think I was having fun with another guy. But I wasn’t having fun. I was thinking about you the entire night.”

“Well you fooled me.” Peter chucked. “I thought you were halfway in love with this guy already. But why were you mad at me?”

“I heard you the other day. I heard you tell Ned you didn’t like me.” You admitted and gave him a sad smile.

“Oh, that’s not-“

“And it’s fine.” You cut him off. “I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you over that. It’s not your fault you don’t like me. We can’t help what we don’t feel.”

Peter stared into your eyes and saw a sadness he’d never seen you show before. You had sobered up a little but still weren’t completely there. He wanted to tell you how he felt, but he wanted you to be sober enough to remember it.

“So what happened to your date?” He changed the subject. You gave Peter a sad smile and shrugged your shoulders.

“He wasn’t much of a gentleman.” You admitted. Peters jaw clenched but he tried to remain calm for you same.

“Why do you say that?”

“I kept trying to talk to him and get to know him but all he wanted to do was get drunk. So I kept drinking whatever he handed me because I thought that would make me a more “fun” date.” You told him. You looked down at your dress and nervously fiddled with the hem of it. Peter stayed silent as he watched your eyes fill up with tears.

“I got all dressed up. I did my hair and my makeup. I tried to look pretty for him.” You said sadly. “But he didn’t even compliment me when he saw me. And he didn’t laugh at any of my jokes. I kept feeling like I was annoying him any time I asked him a question. But I was just trying to get to know him.“

“Well he’s crazy for not complimenting you. Because you look very pretty tonight.”

“Oh, please. My makeup’s running down my face and I probably have puke on my dress.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still the prettiest girl in this room.” Peter told you.

“I’m the only girl in this room.” You reminded him and pointed to the bathroom wall.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re the prettiest girl in any room you’re in.” Peter stated. That brought a smile out of you and you slipped your hand into his.

“You’re sweet.” You smiled in appreciation and gave his hand a squeeze. Peter squeezed you back before getting the hair off your forehead. You leaned into his hand and looked into his eyes.

“What happened tonight?“ He asked quietly.

“Well, once I was drunk enough for Drew’s liking, he asked me to go up to one of the bedrooms with him. I went because I thought it was because he wanted a more private place to talk. I thought he wanted to hear what I had to say. Imagine that? Imagine your date being interesting in something you had to say? But he didn’t care about that. He didn’t want to talk.” You laughed sadly before looking down at the floor with a heavy sadness.

“What did he want?” Peter asked and braced himself. You looked up and met Peter’s eyes with a sad smile.

“You know what he wanted.” You said softly. Peter gulped and nodded his head so you wouldn’t have to relive it. You let out a sigh and wiped your tears on the back of your hand.

“He didn’t even kiss me.” You laughed sadly. “He just shut the door and tried to unzip my dress. I pushed him away and yelled at him, and then he got upset that I was upset so he left me in there. I was too drunk to go after him so I just sat there for a while in the dark. By the time I came back down to the party, he was already making out with another girl.”

“What’s this guys problem? He got to take the most incredible girl in this city on a date and he blows it in every way possible? He’d be lucky to talk to you, let alone go out on a date with you. How could he not see what a privilege he had just to be near you?” Peter said with genuine anger.

“Thanks, Pete.” You chuckled and felt slightly better about the night. Peter was about to go off more until he saw the look on your face. You didn’t need to hear Peter’s gripe right now. You needed comfort.

“Should we kill him?” Peter asked after a beat of silence.

“I think so. Serita told me he’s got a bit of a reputation for this kind of thing. I had no idea.”

“I can’t believe Ned was right and this guy really was insane.” Peter said, making you laugh.

“I know. I guess this means we should listen to him more.” You laughed. Peter smiled at you before scooping you up again and kicking the door open.

“Woah. Where are we going?” You asked as he carried you straight out of the party.

“On a real date.” He replied and you fell silent. He carried you all the way to his apartment building and swung up to the roof.

“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Peter said and he slipped out of his button down. He draped it over your shoulders to keep you warm before racing downstairs.

When he returned, he had a picnic blanket, his portable Death Star night light, a lunchables pizza, and two bottles of water. You smiled as he laid the picnic blanket down before patted the space beside him. You sat down and he wrapped a blanket from his bed around the both of you. You cracked open your water bottle and downed it while he put together the lunchables. He handed you one of the pizzas and you did cheers before silently eating them as the sun began to rise.

“Are you enjoying your meal, madam?” Peter looked away from the sunrise to ask you.

“Why, yes I am. This is one of the finer lunchables I’ve ever eaten. Compliments to the chef.” You played along.

“The chef thanks you kindly.” Peter replied and you both laughed.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of you for a minute as you watched the sky become pink. Peter looked over at you and felt his heart ache over the way the sun was lighting up your face with a warm glow. You were holding your blanket tightly around your body to shield yourself from the morning air and had your eyes shut to let the night wash away from you. Peter knew in that moment he was in love and it could not be unspoken any longer.

“So, uh, remember when we were in the bathroom before and you said we should listen to Ned more?” Peter began.

“That doesn’t sound like something I would say. But I guess so. Why?” You wondered and looked over at him. Peter looked you in the eyes and gulped.

“Ned was actually right about a second thing.”

“Two things? Is he going for a personal record?” You laughed. When you saw that Peter wasn’t laughing, you stopped smiling.

“What is it, Pete? Something bad?”

“No. Not bad. Just, um, just a little clarification, I guess.” Peter began.

“Clarification about what?”

“I know you heard me telling Ned that I didn’t like you. And I know that it hurt your feelings. Which I totally understand why it would. It was overkill. But what you overheard the was my frustrated attempt to get Ned to stop insisting that I liked you.”

“Oh. Okay.” You said slowly and never took your eyes off him. Peter stared into your eyes for the last time before everything changed.

“And the only reason he keeps insisting that is because it’s true. He was trying to get me to tell you how I felt and I snapped at him because I was scared that if I ever did tell you how I felt, you wouldn’t feel the same.” Peter finished. You stared at him for a long time but Peter couldn’t read your expression. You were definitely pensive but he didn’t know if you were upset with him or relieved to know the truth. You turned your face back towards the sunrise and stared out at it.

“Hm.” You hummed.

“Hm? That’s all you have to say?” Peter asked nervously.

“Sorry. I was just thinking about that part in the movie Alien when the two main characters get directions from that school of fish and all the fish take the shape of an arrow to show them which way to go.” You said very seriously. Peter shook his head before cracking up laughing.

“Wow. Ned must be on a roll because hearing my own joke repeated back to me makes me realize how unfunny it was.” He admitted, making you laughing.

“I still laughed.” You shrugged. “Even if it wasn’t funny.”

“You did.” He realized with a smile.

“Probably because I like you so much.” You shrugged again and stopped looking at the sunrise to look at him. Peters smile grew and he reached over to hand your hand in his. All that pining and anticipation had led to that moment of you finally admitted how you felt about each other.

“Yeah.” He smiled. “Thats probably why.”

Tag list 🏷️

@thebookwormlife @imanativeofswlondondahling

@tom-hollands-wifey

@whatareyouhidingpeter @takenbyheartstrings

@imyourliquor-youremypoison @andreasworlsboring101

@peterparkoure

@justcallmehitgirl @jackiehollanderr

@emmamarshmellow @unbelievableholland

@sovereignparker @every-marveler-ever @undiadeestos @eridanuswave​ ​

@solarxmoonchild @canyouevencauseicant

@quaksonhehe @lovelessdagger

@thesuitelifeofafangirl @marshxx @nooneinvitedfascistbarbie

@maybemona

@alexxcorona113 @lethal-wisdom

@pandaxnienke

 @officialsimppage @peterbenjiparker @itsemohours

@freakofmusic25 @tomholland85

@olixerwxxd @leilanixx

@whereismytelephone @so-very-asleep @white-wolf1940

@spideyspeaches @hihiweezing

@mathletemadison  

@dhtomholland @insomniac-nerd-posts-things @prancerrparkerr

@hallecarey1 @adayasgeorgia @blackwidowisthebest @imawhoreforu

@ciarahollands

@nellabellaa @pinklxmonade @boogywoogywoogy

[cleo-fox]

Unraveled

Summary: It was all fun and games until Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

Pairing: Loki x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, 18+, Minors DNI, dirty talk, praise kink, teasing, orgasm delay, sex, vaginal fingering, godly refractory periods, kitchen sex, semi public sex, Loki in a sweater.

A/N: My explanation for this one is that I saw too many pictures of Tom Hiddleston in a sweater and it gave me thoughts.

Being an Avenger has made you pretty good at rolling with the punches. After your third or fourth encounter with some alien/wizard/android bullshit, your perspective is fundamentally altered and real life seems manageable in a way that it didn’t before. You have to call your insurance company to dispute a claim? Big deal, you’ve negotiated with terrorists; you can handle Garth from Member Services.

The thing is, having that kind of perspective means that the things that do get to you can rattle you a lot more than they should. Natasha had warned you about that, but you were riding high on the thrill of successfully conquering Blue Cross Blue Shield and you kind of got to thinking she was exaggerating.

And then the seasons started to turn and Loki started wearing that goddamn sweater.

You can recognize when someone is out of your league. When you first moved into the Tower, it had been relatively easy for you to assign Loki to that category: he was a god. He’d been featured in last month’s GQ. You were mortal and your most recent press had been a TMZ story featuring unflattering paparazzi photos of you leaving a bodega in your pajamas at seven o’clock in the morning, a bagel halfway into your mouth. You were clearly not the same.

Up until the sweater, you’d managed to keep your cool around Loki and keep your attraction confined to daydreams and the occasional surreptitious lustful glance. Hell, you’d even had the nerve to be proud of yourself for keeping your shit together in front of him.

The sweater lays waste to all of that.

On the surface, it doesn’t seem like a sweater that is capable of completely destroying your carefully constructed composure. It’s a fairly standard crew neck in a deep green so dark it almost looks black at a first glance. But on Loki it just…does things to you. The fabric is well fitted, clinging to his biceps, pulling taut across his chest, emphasizing the line of his pectorals. It somehow accentuates how muscular he is while also still making him look lean and lithe.

The first time he wears it, you find your eyes just trail to him of their own volition, like an incredibly horny moth to the flame. It’s a day of catching yourself staring, panicking, pretending that you were actually looking at something else, and then repeating the process five minutes later when your gaze inevitably wandered again. It almost would have been funny if it didn’t put your blood pressure into the stratosphere.

To make matters worse, at the end of that day’s debriefing, he rises from his chair and raises his arms to the ceiling in a long stretch. The hem of the sweater creeps up, exposing the firm, flat muscles of his stomach, lightly dusted with a trail of hair that meanders in a tantalizing path down to his belt buckle.

You promptly choke on your own spit. Clint claps you hard on the back and asks if you’re okay, which is a question you don’t know how to answer (ultimately, you stick to a thumbs up and mumble something about dust getting caught in your throat). Loki is too preoccupied complaining about the entire concept of office furniture to notice. Or at least you’re pretty sure he doesn’t notice.

You might have been okay if that had been the only incident, but the sweater makes a repeat appearance on Friday. The following Tuesday features the deadly combination of the sweater with a pair of tight, dark wash jeans that nearly send you into cardiac arrest. Your fantasies suddenly become much more frequent and detailed.

You are not really sure what to do about this—it’s not like you can talk to anyone about it, nor can you ask him to stop wearing it without prompting some very uncomfortable questions. The idea that you’ll get used to it is laughable. 

You look at your calendar and note that spring is six months away. At least.

Fucking hell.

*

It’s a Saturday afternoon and in a strange quirk of scheduling, almost everyone is out of town for a mission or a personal obligation, leaving the Tower unusually quiet. As much as you enjoy the daily clatter and chaos that comes with living here, you find a lot of comfort in these moments of quiet, however infrequent they may be.

You intended to make yourself a late afternoon snack. That was the plan, anyway. But as you’re standing at the kitchen counter and cutting up the fruit you just washed, you realize that you’re not entirely alone. From this vantage point, you can see Loki lounging on the couch in the next room and reading.

He’s wearing the sweater. Of course he’s wearing the sweater. And the so-tight-they-should-be-illegal dark wash jeans.

Goddammit.

You have the sense to set the knife down at least. The last thing you need is a trip to the hospital because you got too distracted by your hot colleague while handling a knife.

You let your gaze travel along the firm muscles of his chest. It’s just a sweater. It shouldn’t look this good. It shouldn’t prompt these kinds of thoughts. And yet…

He shifts on the couch and the hem of the sweater creeps up. His hand drops to his belt buckle. It’s entirely appropriate, but the way his long, long fingers are splayed against his stomach makes your mind drop straight to the gutter and wonder what they’d look like wrapped around his rock hard co—

“You know, it’s rude to stare.”

His voice comes from behind you and adrenaline surges through you like an electric shock. The Loki on the couch looks up at you and smirks before disappearing in a shimmer of green.

You wonder if it’s possible to die of embarrassment and a heart attack all at the same time. It certainly feels like you’re about to.

You take a deep breath and try to collect yourself, which feels largely futile. Come on, get it together. You’ve negotiated with terrorists and insurance companies. Shake it off.

You slowly turn around, cheeks burning. Loki is standing right behind you, arms folded across his chest. You swallow.

“I um. I was—I was just…” Words escape you as your brain fires in every direction except a helpful one.

“You were just what?” His expression is intense, but you’re not sure that he’s angry.

“Spacing out,” you say, trying to infuse your voice with confidence that you absolutely do not feel.

He places his hands on the counter behind you, intentionally caging you in with his body. You are overwhelmed by the scent of him—a masculine, wintery musk that makes you want to bury your face against his chest.

“Try again,” he says. His voice is deep enough to rattle your bones.

You swallow. Everything you could possibly say seems wildly inadequate.

Loki has never been one to be at a loss for words, though, and after a moment of terrified silence from you, he continues speaking.

“I’ve noticed something curious over these past few weeks,” he says. “When I wear this sweater, you can’t seem to take your eyes off of me.”

Your heart is pounding. Fucking hell. Have you really been that obvious?

“Now why is that?” he asks, his voice a low purr.

You briefly consider trying to lie again, but the piercing green of his eyes instantly makes you rethink it. “I um…” You swallow hard. “It’s just…it suits you. You…you look good.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I look good?”

You nod.

“Interesting.” His lips twitch in a slight smirk as he looks you up and down. “And how does that make you feel?”

Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach contorting with a strange combination of fear and desire. You’re still humiliated, but the sound of his voice and the dark intensity of his gaze is intoxicating and incredibly arousing.

“I don’t—I don’t know how to answer that question.”

“Oh, I think you do.” There’s a rawness in his voice that makes your cunt clench.

You shake your head, eyes wide. You’re pretty sure he’s not really mad, but you also don't know where this is going. Surely he’s not making a pass at you…right?

“How does it make you feel to see me in this sweater?” he continues, his voice a low whisper. He pauses for a moment and when you don’t answer, he continues. “Does it…arouse you, perhaps?”

Holy fuck.

This can’t be happening.

You try to think of something clever or sexy, but the bluntness of the question and the fire in his eyes kills whatever remaining brain cells you have left. Mutely, you nod.

There’s that smirk again as he licks his lips. “Are you wet right now?”

Your cheeks burn. You give the tiniest nod possible.

“Hmm.” His hand alights on the button of your jeans. “I believe you Midgardians have a saying that is appropriate here: trust, but verify.” He slips the button free and your heart pounds like a war drum in your chest. 

You cannot believe this is happening.

“You haven’t been entirely truthful in this conversation.” His palm presses flat against your stomach, the tips of his fingers slipping under the waistband of your underwear. “So I’m afraid I’m going to have to see for myself.”

His hand is achingly slow, creeping lower and lower. He watches you intently as his hand cups your sex, seemingly cataloging the way your breath hitches and all the little shivers that run through you.

His middle finger finally slides between your folds and you can’t help but moan.

“Oh, you did lie to me,” he growls, his index finger joining his middle, both sliding up to circle your clit. “You’re not wet, you’re soaked.”

Your legs are already starting to tremble and you grab on to his shoulders to try and steady yourself. The fabric of the sweater is softer than a cloud against your hands.

“Sopping wet,” he continues, trapping your right leg between his thighs and the counter, the heavy weight of his erection pressing eagerly against your hip. “And this is all for me?”

Wordlessly, you nod. There’s no point in denying it—and you don’t think he wants you to, either.

“What am I going to do about this?” he muses. His index and middle fingers lightly circle your clit again and you whimper.

“Don’t stop,” you gasp. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he says. His tone is one of light curiosity, like you’re just chatting casually about the weather. “But if I continue, you’re almost certainly going to come.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please.”

“Oh, you want me to make you come?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Right here in the middle of the kitchen?”

You nod.

“Anyone could walk in, though,” he purrs. “Anyone could come in and see me with my fingers buried in your dripping cunt. What would they think if they saw you so utterly debauched and at my mercy, begging for me to make you come?”

“Don’t care…” you gasp. How are you already so close?

He raises an eyebrow. “You don’t care what they’d think if they saw us like this?”

You shake your head.

“Oh, you must be desperate.” He adjusts his hand, his thumb taking up the rhythm on your clit while his index finger sinks into your slick channel, making you gasp.

“Loki, please—”

“Begging already,” he says, not letting up in his rhythm. “Has it been a long time, sweetheart? When did you last feel this good?”

It’s not a question you can answer. You don’t know that anyone ever has made you feel like this. You moan, your hips bucking hard against his hand.

“Poor thing,” he tuts. “You’re clearly desperate for it. What kinds of filthy thoughts have you had about me?” he purrs. “I’ve seen you staring, I’ve heard your breath hitch. Have you touched yourself while thinking of me?”

You manage a nod and his smile turns feral. “When was the last time?”

“Last…last night,” you gasp.

“How many times did you come?”

“F-Four.”

“Filthy girl.” His free hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tips your head back. “Next time, all you have to do is ask.”

His mouth covers yours, his tongue pushing past your lips as he slides a second finger into you. You moan into his mouth as the pressure in your hips increases.

“Oh yes, let me hear all of those pretty noises,” he murmurs. “Are you going to let me fuck you against the counter after I make you come?”

You nod, whimpering.

“Good girl,” he purrs. “I think you need to be fucked properly and hard. Is that what you need?”

“Yes,” you gasp.

“Mmm, that’s what I thought. This cunt is just too wet and needy for any other treatment.” He draws back to look at you more fully, giving you a lazy, hungry smile. “You’re about to lose it all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

Your orgasm is cresting, the tingling pressure in your hips becoming unbearable. You nod, lost for words.

With one more smirk, he curls his fingers inside of you. “Come for me, pretty girl, let me see you.”

Your cunt spasms around his thrusting fingers and your whole body shudders as your orgasm overtakes you, your head tipping back as you cry out.

“Oh, that’s it,” he murmurs, “there’s my good girl.”

A shiver runs through you at his words, your hips still moving against his hand, trying to draw out every last ripple of pleasure.

He kisses you as you come down from your high, and you take the opportunity to run your hands over his chest and tentatively feel the hard planes of muscle that you’ve been staring at these last few weeks. But after a few moments, he takes your hand and guides it to his cock.

His preference for leather pants or those sinfully tight dark wash jeans made you suspect that the size of his ego might actually be proportionate to the size of his cock and your initial assessment seems to confirm that theory. You rub your fingers over the denim that covers his thick shaft, feeling yourself grow even wetter at the low groan he makes in the back of his throat.

“Take my cock out.” His voice is so deep and his eyes are so smoldering, it feels like the command goes straight to your cunt. You are practically trembling with anticipation as your shaking hands  make quick work of the button, buckle, and zipper.

You can’t help but suck in a breath when his cock comes into view. He’s long and deliciously thick—big enough to be a little intimidating, but not overwhelmingly so.

He guides your hand to wrap around his shaft. He barely fits in your hand. “Look at what you’ve done to me,” he says, his voice raspy as he guides your hand to stroke his cock. “Feel how hard I am for you, feel how much I want you.”

His cock practically pulses with need, the tip slick with pre-come and you grasp him more firmly, your cunt pulsing as he gives a deeply satisfying groan.

You stroke him from base to tip, squeezing lightly. He groans again. “They told me to stay away from you, you know,” he says.

You aren’t so far gone that you can let this information slip by. “What? Who?”

“Stark. Rogers. Romanoff. My brother.” He reaches behind you and shoves the fruit and cutting board into the side, the knife clattering into the sink. “They saw how I looked at you,” he says. “They saw that I wanted you. They told me you were too good for me. Too sweet.”

You feel your jeans and underwear melt away in a shimmer of green and he lifts you easily onto the counter.

His eyes flash with desire. “I wonder what they’d say if they knew you’d let me fuck you raw in the middle of the kitchen?”

For a brief moment, frustration almost wins out over your lust. “We could have done this sooner?”

His gaze turns serious. “Darling, we could have done this the moment we met, but I’m told a handshake is more appropriate.”

You take a breath, about to embark on a rant about the individuals he’d named and how they hadn’t even asked, they’d just assumed, but Loki puts a hand up against your mouth.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” he says. There’s a sincerity and a need in his gaze that you’ve never seen before and it’s enough to calm your anger for just a moment.

“Okay,” you say, wrapping your legs around his waist and angling your hips toward his, “but clear your schedule because I’m gonna need you to fuck me a lot to make up for all that time.”

His grin is feral as he pushes into you.

You shiver at the blunt stretch of his cock, your hands gripping his broad shoulders. He indulges in a low groan as his hips press flush against yours.

“If I’d known they were keeping me from this tight cunt, I would’ve done something sooner,” he rasps. “You feel absolutely perfect.”

“Please,” you breathe, “I need—please.”

His hips snap hard against yours and you moan, your head tipping back.

His eyes glitter as he pulls you close, pressing his mouth against your ear. “The next time I have you, I will be sweet and soft.”

“And this time?” you ask, though you think you already know the answer.

“This time—” His mouth presses against the curve of your neck, teeth scraping just this side of too hard against the tender skin. “—I’m going to utterly ruin you.”

His pace is fast and rough—the word possessive comes to mind. You twist the luxurious fabric of his sweater in your hands as his cock hits that sweet, aching spot inside of you, pressing against your sensitive cunt in a way that makes your muscles spasm and clench around him. You moan, a shiver rolling through you as you inch closer to release.

“I’m…fuck, I’m getting close,” you gasp.

His pace abruptly slows and his grin is wide and his eyes are dancing with mirth when he raises his head from your shoulder.

“That was unnecessary,” you say with a scowl.

“Oh, I just want to savor you for a little longer, my love,” he purrs as he settles into an easy and slow pace that still makes your toes curl. “You’re going to take me right over the edge with you and I’ve waited so terribly long to have you.”

“I feel like you’re probably omitting the fact that you like being a tease,” you say.

He grins again, increasing his pace ever so slightly. “Both things can be true.”

He does this a few times—taking up a wicked pace that almost sends you hurtling over the edge, only to slow at the last possible moment, silencing your whimpering protests with a deep and slow kiss that is good enough to make you forgive him until a few minutes later when he does it all over again.

You hold out for as long as you can, but eventually, the ache in your hips overwhelms you.

“Loki,” you breathe when his pace again begins to increase. “Please don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop?” he rasps, somehow finding the concentration to raise an eyebrow. “You’re quite sure?”

You nod.

“You want to come all over my cock?”

Speech is slightly beyond you at this point, but you manage to gasp a desperate plea as you hurtle into the final plateau, right before the fall.

Loki regards you with that same playful look as he fucks you. You wait, unsure of what he’s going to do, your body desperately crying out for your release.

His lips curl into a smile. “Come for me, sweet thing.”

At the sound of his voice, every one of your muscles is tensing and releasing, the slick walls of your cunt clamping down hard on the thick girth of his cock as you shudder and moan.

The remnants of Loki’s composure are fraying, his eyes closed and his jaw slack as he chases his own end. His brow furrows and he throws his head back, letting out a low groan as he comes and you think it might be the best sound you’ve ever heard.

You sag against him as you both come down from your respective highs, his heart beating hard under the soft fabric of his sweater. He reaches for your face, tilting your head back so he can kiss you, impossibly slow and soft.

You’re in the middle of the kitchen. You understand this. In a wholly rational world, you would be quick to hop off the counter, quick to try and negotiate the return of your jeans from whatever pocket dimension he’s sent them to.

Instead, you find yourself wanting to stay in this moment, with his arms wrapped around you, his cock still pulsing inside you as he kisses you breathless.

You count to ten, then twenty. At forty, you draw back slightly, only to have him pull you back into the kiss.

It’s somewhere after one hundred when he trails his lips to your neck and you manage to say what you intended: “We should probably…” you trail off as he sucks at your pulse point, sending a shiver down your spine.

“We should probably what?” he murmurs against your neck, before tracing a lazy figure eight with the tip of his tongue.

It takes you a moment to find that sentence. “Get dressed and such.”

You feel the sharp press of his smile against your skin. “I think not.”

Before you can open your mouth to say anything, the kitchen is fading in a shimmer of green to an unfamiliar bedroom and the two of you tumble into a bed draped in green silk.

“I’d like to stay like this for a while,” he says, a smile playing at his lips as he slowly rolls his hips against you, somehow still impossibly hard. “In fact, I think I need to have you again.”

“I can live with that,” you say. You tug at the fabric of his sweater. “But this is going to have to go.”

His gaze is smoldering and his bare skin is suddenly pressed against yours as the sweater and the rest of your clothes disappear in that familiar shimmer of green.

“Will you like me as much without it?” he asks, rolling his hips against you.

You drag your fingernails up along the firm muscles of his back. “I think I’ll manage.”

“Good,” he says, leaning in to kiss you, “because as I understand it, we have quite a lot of time to make up for.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Leaving V

Alexia Putellas x Teen!Reader

Summary: You hate clay courts

It's not often that two people from the same country end up in the finals for the French Open but you and Carlos Alcaraz have taken the Rolland Garros by storm.

You weren't the biggest fan of clay courts. You didn't like the way they felt under your feet and you knew you were a bit hit and miss this entire tournament.

You always managed to win though, by the skin of your teeth sometimes. But a win is a win and both you and Carlos were representing Spain at the finals.

He was against Zverev and you were against Iga.

She was your usual partner in training, the world number one. Her coach was your coach and he had purposely decided to sit this one out because he knew he couldn't coach both of you fairly for this final.

Iga was nice though. She'd always been nice and welcoming and she helped you settle in Poland and even introduced you to the girl that would eventually become your girlfriend.

But all that was off the table as soon as she first served.

Iga was brutal on the court and you'd always known that. She was a great player, a perfect player most of the time but you had a different play style than her.

She had it all planned out. She had a style and she stuck to it.

You were a bit more reckless. You were younger and you hadn't quite worked out the way you preferred to play.

It left you in a few tricky spots throughout the Rolland Garros but you'd pushed through like you're pushing through now, getting a volley going with Iga and trying to work out how to get her to make a mistake.

You're a bit of a wildcard sometimes. You've been known to feign one way and hit the other.

The audience is used to Iga dominating a final, especially this one, but you're holding your own very well. You're battling against her well though, holding your own even as you have to regain your footing a few times on the clay ground.

It's decided, as you stumble forward and just hit the ball over, you hate clay courts with a passion.

But, still, as the minutes go by, you find your rhythm.

A rhythm that lets you try one more reckless manoeuvre that completely catches Iga off guard. She can't return it and you fall to your knees in shock.

You've just won.

You hadn't gone into this final thinking you would win. You'd gone into it hoping you'd win, for sure, but you thought that you didn't actually have a chance.

You get to your feet shakily, stumbling over to the net to shake her hand.

"Next year," She says, bringing you into a hug," Let's go for the doubles together, alright?"

You nod. "Sounds good."

You thank the umpire and you go around shaking the hands of all the ball girls. When you were younger, at one of the professional tournaments, you had been a ball girl. You knew what it was like.

Iga got given her prize, holding it up for the crowd and then you received the cup, smiling brightly in all the pictures.

You were covered in red clay as you made your way through the corridors.

Your family was waiting for you.

You went into Alexia's arms like you always did and her arms wrapped around you, completely familiar and welcome. You lean into her, sagging in relief as someone takes the cup from you so you can hug her properly.

"I'm very proud of you," She whispers," So proud of you."

"I don't like clay courts," You say back and you can feel the little chuckle of amusement from her.

"I know."

"I'm covered in muck."

"I know but you can go and shower and then we'll head back to get some food."

You giggle as you pull away. "I'm so hungry."

Alexia laughs too. "I know."

Dinner is perfect when you've got the trophy sitting next to you and Alba insisting on having dessert for a job well done.

Mama cries, like usual after you've done anything even related to tennis. Alba makes fun of her.

Alexia sneaks into your hotel room.

You both lay on your bed together, looking up at the blank ceiling.

"I don't know anything about tennis," Alexia admits," Nothing. Nothing at all."

You flick your eyes to her. "What?"

"I don't know anything about it apart from you hit the ball back and forth."

"Ale...I've been playing tennis for years."

"I know and I still don't know anything. Isn't that scary?" She's laughing a little bit. "Years taking you back and forth and getting you new rackets and outfits and watching you win. I still couldn't tell you anything about it."

You're laughing as well, almost hysterically laughing. "Well," You say through your giggles," I must be the better sister because I actually understand the rules of football."

She swats at you with an eye roll. "Football's easy to understand. You don't get sister points for that."

"But still," You say," I've got the most amount of points."

"No you don't!"

"Yes I do!"

The thing about growing up with your sisters is that the three of you were hyper-competitive people, to the point that the 'Sister Championships' happened every year complete with a shared spreadsheet to keep track of everyone's points and a strict set of rules on how they could be earnt.

"I do," You say, bringing up the table on your phone to show," I've got ten more than you because I looked after Alba's dog when I was last home."

Alexia swears. "Damn it."

You grin. "I'm going to win this year."

"I've still got time. I'll let Alba have my window seat on the flight back tomorrow."

You shuffle closer until you've got your head resting on her shoulder. "We're not flying home tomorrow."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Because Carlos has won so it means Spain has won the men's and women's singles. There'll be lots of PR stuff for me to do with him."

"And why can't I go home?"

"Because I need someone to keep me sane, Ale."

She thinks for a moment before nodding. "That'll earn me at least fifteen more sister points."

[kikyoupdates]

NSFW Alphabet | Bakugou Katsuki

NSFW Bakugou Katsuki x F!Reader

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Katsuki may not seem like the type, but he’s actually pretty attentive with his aftercare. He wants sex to be an enjoyable experience for you, as much as it is for him, and that extends to after the deed is done, too. He wants to make sure you’re not feeling any pain or discomfort. He’ll also wipe down the parts of you that he got dirty (which there’s always a lot of, because he loves to cum on you). If there’s anything you need, like a glass of water, or maybe for him to grab you some clean clothes to change into, he’ll do it. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Katsuki’s favorite part of himself would have to be his arms, and that also extends over to his hands. His hands are the source of his Quirk, his power, and he puts in a lot of effort into training and maintaining his physique. It proves how dedicated he is, and he can’t help but be proud of it.

His favorite part of you is your face. He just loves looking at you, to be honest. He firmly believes you’re the prettiest girl in the world. He also really loves your ass. Your face is still his favorite, but he’ll grab and slap your ass just about any chance he gets. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He tries to keep a good diet because it affects his health, and therefore, his performance as a hero. If his cum ever has a pretty distinct taste, it might be because he really likes spicy food. It’s normally nothing noticeable, though.

He loves to finish on you, and adores the sight of his cum dripping down your breasts, ass, face, etc. If you let him finish inside of you, and grace him with the sight of his seed spilling out of your pussy, he will be very, very happy.  

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He’d like to start a family one day, so he often fantasizes about impregnating you. However, he would never willingly bring this up. At least, not until the two of you have had a proper discussion about whether or not you want kids. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He isn’t experienced. It depends on when you got together, but if you met him while you were at U.A, then that means you’re his first partner. Of course, he likes to act like he’s experienced, all confident and cocky, and since he’s such a quick learner, you probably wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. He picks up on what you like very fast. He’s Bakugou Katsuki, after all. Everyone knows that he won’t settle for anything other than being the best. Sex is no exception. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

His favorites are missionary, doggy style, and mating press. He’ll usually go for doggy style if it’s a quickie, or if he’s just in the mood for rougher, more fast-paced sex. He loves being able to grass your ass and watch as his cock disappears inside of you. He does also really enjoy seeing the expressions you make during sex, which is why he likes both mating press and missionary. He can face you in either of those. Although he’ll pick missionary if he wants the moment to be more intimate. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Not usually goofy, but there are definitely moments where you might get him to crack up. He can actually be pretty playful in bed at times, so it’s not impossible that you might hear him let out a chuckle or two. If you’re acting super cute, or bratty, he’ll find it difficult to suppress his smile. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not completely shaven, but definitely well-groomed. He doesn’t have a ton of hair growing down there to begin with, and it’s a fairly light shade of blond, similar to the hair on his head. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Sex is one of the times when Katsuki allows himself to be more vulnerable, and while he definitely loves for it to be fast-paced and aggressive, there are also times where he’ll take it slow and be more gentle with you. Even if he’s fucking into you without abandon, he’ll still make sure to tell you how much he loves you, and he’ll praise you near endlessly. There’s never any doubt that you mean the world to him. 

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’ll jack off semi-regularly, but it’s mostly for stress relief, or in the moments that he isn’t able to be with you. He has a collection of nudes (and possibly videos, if you let him record you) of you on his phone, which he’ll jerk off to repeatedly. But he’d definitely much rather just have sex with you instead. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Dirty talk, hair pulling, overstimulation, spanking, and he also has a praise kink. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere at home, where he knows the two of you are in private. This can be the bedroom, up against a wall, on the couch, with you flattened onto the kitchen table, it doesn’t matter. Just as long as he knows that no one else will see you. He hates the thought of anyone else seeing you naked, exposed, or making those gorgeous expressions that are supposed to be reserved only for him. Just the thought of it pisses him off. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anytime you compliment him and make him feel good about himself. Even though he tries to hide it with his ego, there are moments where he feels really insecure. He’ll often initiate sex because he’s crazy about you, but there’s just something about you coming onto him and telling him how handsome he is, how he’s an amazing hero, and so on and so forth… it just really gets him going. 

Also, he loves it when you wear skimpy clothing. Not in public, because he’ll get jealous that other people are staring at you, but if you’re just walking around the house with half your ass out, it’s guaranteed to get his dick hard. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He’s okay with biting, scratching, hair pulling, and even tying you up if you ask, but he’ll never do anything extreme that involves serious pain. He’s also extremely possessive and hates the idea of anyone other than him seeing you naked, or being able to hear you moan. So, he will outright refuse any form of public sex. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Katsuki prefers receiving oral over giving. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy going down on you. He’ll gladly eat you out as if he’s starved for a meal, and he can never get enough of your sweet moans and the way you start shaking when you’re about to have an orgasm, but even so, watching you suck him off is probably one of the hottest things he’s ever seen. He doesn’t dare look away as you desperately try to stuff his cock in that cute little mouth of yours, and every time you strain to look up at him, with tears in your eyes, he has to resist the urge to finish right then and there. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Sex with Katsuki will usually be pretty fast-paced, and more than likely on the rougher side, too. He’s a very passionate guy, and sex is one of the ways that he conveys that. However, he’ll try to adjust his pace according to your preferences, and there are moments where he purposely slows down, because he wants it to be more intimate and sensual. 

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Katsuki doesn’t mind quickies, although he’d prefer to take his time with you. Still, being a pro hero is a busy job, and there’s bound to be moments where he’s in a rush, but you just look too damn good for him to keep his hands off you. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He doesn’t mind experimenting. As long as you don’t suggest anything that goes against what he strictly refuses (inflicting serious pain or having sex in public where others might see you), he’ll definitely keep an open mind. His goal is to make you feel good, after all. He can’t enjoy sex unless he knows you’re enjoying it too. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

This guy has virtually unlimited stamina. He’s one the most powerful heroes ever, and his diligence and determination is second to none. Not to mention that sex is different from fighting. He’s enjoying himself too much to worry about getting tired. Sometimes it’s actually a bit of a problem, and you end up having to beg him to stop. Even if he has to get up early for work the next day, he’ll gladly stay up all night fucking you. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Katsuki doesn’t own toys, and he doesn’t particularly like them either. He will refuse to ever let you use toys on him. There’s virtually no chance. Still, if there’s something you really want to do, he’ll try them out on you. Again, he wants to make you happy. If you’re super into toys in the bedroom, then he’ll make an effort to accommodate you. He just doesn’t want you to prefer toys over him. His ego wouldn’t be able to handle that. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can definitely tease quite a lot. He likes dirty talk. Nothing too foul, but definitely some filthy words here and there. He won’t ever degrade you to the point that he feels disgusted by the words coming out of his own mouth, though. He’s often mistaken for a shitty person, and he doesn’t want you to think that of him. If you reassure him ahead of time that you’re okay with him saying some more extreme things, then he’ll probably do it. He just doesn’t want to take things too far and upset you. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He isn’t extremely loud, but he’s not that quiet either. You’ll hear him biting back moans and gasping between grunts. He’s also very vocal when it comes to dirty talk, praising you for how beautiful you are and how good you make him feel, etc. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

There are times when he goes out of his way to make the moment more romantic (like using scented candles, booking a fancy hotel room, preparing a nice meal for you afterwards, etc.) and he always gets a little embarrassed, worried that you’ll think it’s dumb. Which, of course, you never do. 

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s above 6.5 inches long, close to 7, and impressively thick, too. When he gets excited, he’ll drip a lot of pre-cum, and his cock is just slightly curved upwards, which helps to hit that sweet spot inside of you. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high sex drive. He’s the type of person who isn’t particularly sexually driven until he gets into a relationship and has someone he cares about. But since he loves you, he’ll want to fuck you every day. Multiple times, if possible. He won’t ever pressure you into having sex with him and he knows to back off when you’re not in the mood, though. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He tries to stay awake for as long as he can, but realistically, he’s pretty quick to fall asleep. Especially at nighttime. He has an absurdly early bedtime, after all. He loves cuddling with you afterwards, though, so even if he falls asleep before you, you’ll always have a place in his arms. 

🗡️ main masterlist ♡ oneshot masterlist

Read more on Ada’s Quotev (Kikyo and Starflame), Ao3, and Wattpad (Kikyo and Starflame)!!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

[emisloves]

A FRIEND LIKE HIM ✦ N.RK

pairing: bsf!riki x fem!reader

genre: best friends to lovers

warnings: mixed signals, mutual pining (but not very obvious), jealousy, kissing, forced (?) making out, fluff

word count: 2.6k

a/n: looks familiar? i had posted it on @/emi-en, my previous blog. this was also my first attempt at fluff, so it isn't my best work. i am not very proud of this one.

You truly were grateful for having a friend like Riki.

From when you guys met back in second grade, when he shared his bento with you after finding you crying on the rooftop, since your mother forgot to pack you lunch, right up to your high school years, when he holds your hand to make sure you don’t get lost in crowds.

You really were grateful for him.

It's just that– sometimes you wished he wasn't so– confusing.

It was the third time this month. The third time a guy had come up to you to ask you out, before stuttering and backing up at the last second. The reason? Why, it's Riki of course.

He was always with you. Everywhere. He almost never left you alone, especially with a guy. His excuse was always the same whenever you confronted him about it.

“I just don't want to leave you alone with them– you know how some people can be when they don't get their way, right?”

It frustrated you beyond measure. But you understood his intentions. The last time you were alone on your own with a guy that wasn't him– didn't end very well.

Long story short, you had once managed to evade Riki and gone to the rooftop all by yourself, where you coincidentally met another classmate of yours. Said classmate was fairly nice, leading you guys to have a long conversation with each other– before he started being creepy.

Just before he could actually try anything, Riki found you guys. He took one look at your uncomfortable expression and the other dude’s face, immediately making an excuse about how you were both late to your after school tuition, quickly wrapping an arm around your shoulder and taking you away from the guy. So yes, in a way, you understood his protectiveness.

But this wasn't it. There were so many more things about him that confused you to no end. You see, he likes to give you mixed signals.

“Now what would you need my hair tie for?”

Riki scratched the back of his head sheepishly. “Well– you know– look, all my friends wear one on their hand, okay? I also want one–”

You stared at him, unamused. “All of your friends also have girlfriends. They wear their girlfriends’ hair ties on their hands. You don't have a girlfriend. By wearing my hair tie, you would be basically saying that I am your girlfriend.”

He groaned. “Who cares what they think? If I want to wear your hair tie, I will. Now stop complaining and give me one.”

You sighed, taking a hair tie out of your pouch and handing it to him. Riki was persistent, you knew he wouldn't stop bothering you until you gave in.

To any passer-by, it would seem like he has feelings for you, right?

Wrong.

“How do I ask her out?”

You stopped chewing the end of your pencil momentarily, looking up from your work, surprised. You weren’t aware of Riki having a crush. “Who?”

Hei shook his head. “Doesn't matter, just tell me how I should ask a girl out. In a way where she absolutely cannot reject me.”

You raised a brow at him. So he had a crush on a girl, who he desperately wanted to go out with, and he decided you were the best person to ask for help from. Was it normal for you to feel hurt in a situation like this?

You shook off your stupid thoughts, before thinking deeply. “Well– you need to make it special and memorable for her.”

He stared at you cluelessly, causing you to stifle a groan. Must you teach him exactly how to ask a girl out?

“Maybe get her favorite flowers. A big bouquet of them. Don't ask her directly to be your date, make a special speech for her, the more emotional, the better. Remember, background also matters. If you do all that at some stupid place like a parking lot or something similar– prepare to get rejected.”

Riki slowly nodded, processing all the information. “Right– thanks a lot, dwarf.”

You gave an offended gasp. Dwarf? After you tell him exactly how to get a date without fail, he insults your height? Again?

You weren't even that short. It's not your fault he decided to keep growing until he was practically a giant– towering over not just you, but almost everyone in school. No wonder he is the Basketball Team Captain– but that's beside the point.

Do you see how confusing he is now? Well, guess what? There is more to it.

Riki always holds your hand in crowds, claiming you're ‘so short you can easily get lost, or worse, kidnapped.’ You had taken great offense to it the first time he said that, refusing to talk to him for two days– before he brought you ice cream at your house, causing you to finally cave in.

Since then, you haven't complained again. If Riki wants to hold your hand in crowds to ensure your safety, who are you to complain? Especially when his hand feels so warm and comforting against your own– but he doesn't have to know that.

Today was no different. Both of you were outside, having decided to hang out together for the entire evening, eating at different food stalls without any adult supervision. The streets were more crowded than usual, prompting him to hold your hand the entire time. The only times he left your hand was when the two of you stopped at a stall to eat.

As the evening rolled by, the streets got less and less crowded. Riki still hadn't left your hand.

It was already eight pm now. There were barely any people around– five people, give or take? That isn't considered a crowd, right? Then why was he still holding your hand?

You suddenly stopped walking, causing Riki to stop as well. He turned around, tilting his head and looking at you curiously. Noticing your silence, he finally spoke. “Why did you stop?”

You bit your lip, before snapping at him. “Why didn't you stop?”

He blinked, looking utterly baffled by your sudden outburst. “What do you mean by that?”

You rolled your eyes, before lifting both of your intertwined hands in front of his face. “This. You said you will hold my hand when we are in a crowd to prevent myself from getting lost– does this look like a crowd to you?”

Riki blinked, before opening his mouth, as if to say something, only to close it again. After ten extremely slow seconds, he spoke. “I just– like holding your hand– it feels nice–”

It was your turn to be stumped. Was it his life’s mission to make your heart flutter? You could only hope he didn't realize how red you were–

You snapped yourself out of the weird thoughts, mentally scolding yourself. ‘He doesn't like you like that, he is planning to ask someone else out to prom– stop overthinking his actions.’ That's what you always told yourself. Because, at the end of the day, he was just your best friend, and it’s normal for best friends to act this way– right?

You realized how stupid you looked just standing and staring at him, after he confessed to your hand feeling nice to hold. You cleared your throat, before speaking again. “Right– let's just go home now. It's pretty late anyway.”

One thing was for sure. You most definitely had a crush on Riki. The only problem? He is your best friend, there is no way you're ruining your friendship with him over a stupid crush that probably won't last.

You were wrong. Your feelings towards him did not fade away. Instead, they seemed to intensify, carving into an ugly jealousy whenever he looked at another girl or vice-versa. No matter how hard you tried to suppress your feelings, you couldn't help but look elsewhere when such an event happened, clenching your jaw or subtly rolling your eyes. Only, you weren't as subtle as you thought.

Both of you were on your way to the lockers, school having just ended. You were putting your books inside, while Riki waited for you beside your locker. Once you were done putting your books away, you closed the locker door, turning to him. “Alright I’m done let’s g–”

You stopped speaking, witnessing the exchange between Riki and another girl. The girl smiled at him and handed him a chocolate, before speaking. “Your last Basketball match was really fun to watch! You play really well, Riki. No wonder the coach selected you as captain. I will be there in your next match, wearing a jersey with your number to support you! Good luck!”

The girl smiled again, before walking away. The entire time she spoke, Riki was smiling. You couldn’t help the jealousy that flared in your chest at their interaction.

Riki looked at you, his smile dropping at your expression. He frowned at you. “What happened?”

You tried to neutralize your expression. “Nothing. Let’s just go home.”

He shook his head, fully turning towards you. “It doesn’t seem like it’s ‘nothing’."

You rolled your eyes, turning on your heel and starting to walk away from him. “As I said, it’s nothing. So drop it.”

Riki sighed, his shoulders slumping at your cold tone. He trailed behind you like a kicked puppy, not saying anything else.

The two of you lived in the same neighborhood, so both of you always went home and came to school together. Both of you always took a shortcut, a some-what creepy alleyway, in absence of which it would take an extra half an hour to travel.

Today, as you were walking through the same alleyway on your way back, you suddenly felt a tug on your hand. You turned around, to see Riki pulling you by the hand. “What happened?”

He didn’t let go of your hand. “We are alone now. Tell me what happened back there.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to shrug off his grasp– in vain. “Nothing happened. Let go of my hand.”

He was starting to get pissed off by your stubborn attitude. “Either you tell me now, or we stay here till you decide to stop being childish.”

You glared at him, harshly trying to tug your hand out of his grasp. “What is wrong with you? I just told you nothing happened, didn’t I? Let go of me–”

He tightened his hold on your hand, giving it a harsh tug, pulling you towards him. You gasped, stumbling forward, into his chest. He held you tightly by the waist, leaving you no room to escape. You put your hands on his chest, trying to push him away, in vain. “What the fuck–”

He glared at you. “Do you know how annoying it is when you decide to be such a stubborn bitch? I asked you nicely about what the actual fuck your problem was, didn’t I? However, it seems like you don’t understand anything when you’re spoken to nicely. Will you speak up now, or will I have to force an answer out of you?”

You scoffed at his audacity. “Are you threatening me now?”

He poked his inner cheek with his tongue. “If threatening you is what it takes for you to finally speak up, then yes, yes I am threatening you.”

You clenched your jaw, glaring at him. You pushed him with all your strength, causing his grip to loosen, taking the chance to immediately run away. He was shocked at how you suddenly broke free, before shaking off his surprise and immediately running after you. His long legs caught up to you quickly, holding your wrist and harshly tugging it. You gasped, stumbling, causing him to quickly catch you. He slammed you against the alley wall, pinning your wrists above your head. He leaned down to be face to face with you. “Will you speak up now, or are you going to keep being stubborn?”

You looked at him, shock written all over your face. Your face hardened almost immediately. “Fuck you.”

His gaze sharpened. “Fine then. I didn’t want to do this but you left me no choice.”

Before you could come up with another sassy reply, Riki suddenly smashed his lips against yours, causing you to freeze.

The kiss was nothing like what you had imagined before. It was harsh, as if he was trying to punish you non verbally for not answering him. You didn’t reciprocate his kiss, keeping your lips firmly sealed. You could tell he was starting to get frustrated, but you still didn’t kiss him back.

He was starting to get pissed, letting go of your wrists to hold your waist in one hand, your jaw in the other. He bit down on your lip, drawing blood, causing you to gasp. He could care less about your discomfort, sucking the blood off your lip. He tilted your head with one hand, deepening the kiss.

You finally kissed him back, slowly bringing your hands to his shoulders. His kiss became a lot gentler, his grip on you loosening. After what felt like an eternity, you both finally parted.

He rested his forehead on yours, both of you trying to catch your breath. “Will you tell me what’s the matter now?”

You gulped, before sighing. “Nothing really. I was just– jealous.”

He frowned, lifting his head. “Jealous? Why so?”

You bit your lip, looking down. “That girl– she was talking to you and all you did the entire time she spoke was smile at her.”

He smiled slightly, lifting your chin. “It was only common courtesy.”

Upon seeing you continuing to sulk, he pressed a small peck to your lips, before speaking. “Besides, she isn’t the one that I’m kissing right now, is she?”

You went red in the face, praying he didn’t realize how hard you were blushing, before a thought struck you, causing your mood to sour again. “Why are you kissing me anyway? You shouldn’t do things like this casually just to get an answer out of someone.”

He laughed in disbelief, before pecking your cheek. “Remember when you told me exactly how to ask out a girl so that she wouldn’t be able to reject me in any circumstances?”

You slowly nodded. “Yea? What about it?”

He smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Well, I wanted to ask you out that way. A big bouquet of lilies and daisies, talking about how we met, how I felt about you at that time, when was the first time you made my heart flutter, how I got jealous of all the guys that tried to ask you out– all of it at the rooftop of our school, where we first met. But none of that matters now right? Since you already know how I feel.”

The entire time that he spoke, you listened to him, your eyes were open so widely that they looked like hearts. You smiled once he was done. “I had forgotten to add another thing. None of that matters if the girl you’re asking out is into you already.”

He looked baffled for a few seconds, before his eyes widened in realization. He smiled so wide that it started to hurt his cheeks. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, one that you gladly reciprocated. When you both broke apart, he leaned his forehead on yours, a small smile on his face. “This might not have been how I planned to confess, but I’m glad it happened this way.”

You smiled, kissing his cheek. “I’m glad too.”