#and i don't want to touch the... shading debate

[peachsayshi]

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄ blessings ⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

↬ summary: nanami kento tries to be the perfect husband and father but when a tough night fighting curses ends badly it results in nanami snapping at his daughter. 

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ minors / ageless / blank blogs (dni) ↬･tags: nanami x female reader; hurt/comfort; nanami has a daughter; domestic drama; being a jujutsu sorcerer is hard; momotarō is a famous Japanese folk tale :c ↬･ wc: 3,383

↬ notes: hi, everyone! I'm currently not really active at the moment so please don't feel disheartened if I haven't been responding to your messages or tagged posts. I'm taking a small break and only coming online for a bit to catch up on some messages, read fics or queue posts. I'll be back to properly posting and interacting soon but in the meantime I wanted to share that I finished up this draft over the weekend. I was actually debating if I should post this but then just decided to go for it! sending all my love xx

nanami’s head is heavy, completely clouded with despair, and it tints his brown eyes a shade of murky gray. the walls of his beautiful home feel narrow, almost claustrophobic, which explains why he’s struggling to catch his breath right now. stepping into the hallway, he instinctively peeks into the dining area to find you and his daughter eating dinner together. she’s sitting on the chair, her legs far too short to even touch the ground, holding a half eaten onigiri between her small hands. you are by her side, sneakily tidying up after her as you brush away the stray beads of rice trickling onto the table. 

a little glow blooms in nanami’s heart at the sight of you both but there is a vicious creature residing in the pit of his stomach that veils the bright light away. 

he quietly takes off his jacket, his bruised fingers loosening the tie around his neck. he clears his throat before announcing with exhaustion to you both that he’s finally home. 

your eyes meet his, the muscles on your face falling immediately. he can practically feel the blood rushing through your veins as worry washes over you. the reaction makes his chest uncomfortably tight, but he knows that he can’t hide his expressions around you like he used to. 

you both move together so fluidly now, like a single body of water that ebbs and flows to its own natural current. 

he escaped the night’s fight with a few cuts and a couple of bad bruises, but there is currently a student on shoko’s table who barely made it through. the young man arrived at jujutsu tech only a couple of weeks ago, but his naive and charismatic qualities turned into fatal flaws in the world of sorcery.

he bit off more than he could chew by trying to take on a special grade curse.  

shoko promised nanami that she would heal the boy, but admitted there was only so much she can do in regards to the aftermath of his injuries. the sorcerer couldn’t bare to leave him behind, but gojo refused that he stay and insisted that he return back home to his pretty wife and adorable daughter immediately. 

“I’ll handle things from here,” is what his superior said, while nanami’s guilt climbed up his throat. 

that student was his responsibility... 

...and he failed him entirely. 

“papa’s home!” his daughter chirps. the pitch of her voice ringing in nanami’s ears to pull him back to the present and far away from the scene where life and death were dancing together in a tango.  “papa, look, look...mama and I made onigiri!” 

her feet bounces up and down, and there’s a touch of a pink against her cheeks when her mouth stretches into a beaming grin. the innocence in her eyes makes nanami falter and he can feel himself falling deeper into the abyss. for a minute he resents himself for selfishly bringing such a beautiful thing into this world, only to gamble with the fact that she may potentially be in his shoes one day. 

he begs for that outcome to never happen, beseeches whatever higher power above him that exists to spare her from this life. she should never have to go through this, never have to experience these heartbreaks that only wither a person down. 

“I can see that,” nanami replies in a low voice before shifting his attention to his feet. 

right now, he can’t stomach an ounce of her purity, and it radiates around her like a halo. she's so unbothered by his presence, so completely unaware of the sudden change in the atmosphere around her... 

“we made tuna, salmon, and veggies...” she babbles on. 

“how nice...” nanami curtly interrupts, before anxiously running his fingers through the strands of his messy blonde hair. 

“which one do you want, papa?” she questions eagerly, pointing her sticky hands at the plate to show off the selection of triangles. 

“sweets,” you interject just as nanami turns on his heel to walk in the other direction, “how about we finish up eating our dinner, and we can save some for your daddy tomorrow...”

“nooo!” she whines far too loudly, which forces nanami to stop dead in his tracks. he glances over his shoulder to see her puffing out her bottom lip with disappointment, “you said...you said we make it so we eat together!” 

she’s only six. 

she can’t perceive that her father is struggling to hold himself together. deep down inside nanami knows that, but it isn’t enough to keep his cool. he doesn’t know why his daughter’s insistence causes him to pinch the front of his brows with annoyance or why he shoots a frustrated look in her direction. 

he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly picturing shoko calling the student’s parents to deliver the news that the man who was supposed to protect their child was unsuccessful in his duty. 

he doesn’t know why he feels at fault for everything that happened, even though the circumstances of the events were completely out of his control.  

he doesn’t know why he’s imagining himself on the receiving end of a very similar call, or why he can’t stop picturing his precious daughter on that table instead…

all of this pummels into him, and the monster emerges out from it’s cave.  

“be quiet and stop making such a fuss.” 

his voice comes out sharper than expected, and the expulsion of his frustration allows him to see the crystal clear picture before him. 

the room is dead silent. 

your face is in full shock at the hissing tone of your sweet husband snapping at his darling baby girl who he only ever speaks to with a gentle voice. 

what truly unravels nanami is the look that his daughter is giving him - her angelic features are sullen, but her eyes remain wide with surprise. her bottom lip is slack, and the only sound he can hear is her uneasy breathing. her eyes, the most beautiful gems in existence, twinkle as tears begin to form and she tries to quickly blink them away before turning her attention back to her plate.  

nanami doesn’t know he managed to stop time itself but the three of you remain frozen in place. 

he regrets his words immediately. 

he wants nothing more than to pull his precious girl close into his chest and smother her with apologies. the part of him with sense tells him to follow through and make things right with her, but instead he begrudgingly continues to wallow in his own self pity as he walks over to his room. 

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

the house is unusually quiet now, the music of domestic joy morphing into hushed murmurs and whispers outside your room door. you settle your crestfallen daughter into her bedroom before moving to check on your husband next. 

fresh out of the shower, nanami is seated on the edge of the bed with his exhausted eyes pressed firmly into the palms of his hands. he exhales a heavy breath, his dirty work clothes still piled just outside the bathroom, and your heart nearly collapses seeing him in such a state of disarray.

you kneel before him, two hands sliding across the soft material of his sweats as you brush them along his thighs before carefully bringing them up to circle around his wrists. 

“kento?” 

he allows you to pull his palms away but your throat constricts when a band forms tightly around your neck. you swallow the lump with an upturn of your brows as you are greeted with red, exhausted eyes. you cup that handsome face in your hands, your thumbs sweetly motioning back and forth across his cheeks as you try to soothe the tension away. 

after all this time together, it hurts you to see that he still tries to hide his tears. nanami constantly holds himself to the highest standard, always ensuring that he can solidify himself as the rock for you and your daughter to depend on through thick and thin. it’s so rare for you to see him crack, to watch him crumble under the overbearing weight of the things that he is burdened to carry. 

“you had a rough night,” you point out in a low, sympathetic voice and he simply just nods his head in acknowledgement. 

his eyes flutter close again when you lean forward to press a tender, reassuring kiss on his brow. “you want a talk about it?” 

the way his voice shakes makes you shiver, but you tentatively listen as he relays the events of the night before finally concluding that satoru called him only a few minutes ago to reassure him that the student in question is alright. 

“he lost an eye, but at least he’s alive...” he concludes somberly, the warble in his final statement prompting you to wrap your arms around his neck as you pull him in for a protective hug. 

nanami receives it with gratitude, strong arms circling around your waist as he buries his nose into the crook of your shoulder and breathes in.

your scent is a reminder of his permanent sanctuary.

a safety, a reassurance of home.

you stroke his blonde locks between your fingers until he exhales, "i'm so sorry," he breathes, "I...I didn't mean to snap like that..."

a tiny smile tugs at the corners of your lips, and you unravel yourself to cup his jaw into your palms once again. "I appreciate the apology, but I don't think I should be on the receiving end of it..." you hint sweetly.

nanami closes his eyes guiltily. "I'm a horrible father."

you click your tongue with disappointment, your face falling as your disapproval pinches between the space of your brows.

"you're just human," you remind him defensively, "you're a wonderful father, the best man that our daughter can look up to"

"did you see the look on her face?" he replies, his voice unnaturally small. the tender expression he gives you is filled with regret, and it's enough to make your heart ache all over again.

"kento," you contend, "don't do this to yourself. we're both going to have days where we mess up, but that doesn't mean that the problem can't be fixed."

you thread his hair between your fingers, like your brushing through rays sunlight. "she's waiting for me to read her a bedtime story," you explain, "but I'm sure she would rather be with you instead..."

"I doubt that," your husband replies as he reaches for your hand to kiss the inside of your palm.

"we will always love you, kento," you answer back, "unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

he didn't even know how desperately he needed to hear that, for your certainty to remedy away all his sorrows, until they actually left your lips.

your husband's throat tightens, tears pricking his eyes once more but he hides them away when he leans in to seek out a kiss from the woman whose heart he deeply adores.

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

nanami leans his shoulder against the frame of his daughter's room. his heart patters lightly, making him realize that he might actually be nervous. it's strange, he thinks, that he would feel hesitant to approach his own child considering that he was her guardian but nanami had never allowed his professional life to fracture into his personal one like this before.

she's seated on the floor next to a pile of books and her stuffed rabbit secured tightly underneath her arm. there's a warmth in his chest when when he makes note of the soft toy, because he purchased that himself the day she was born and the pair have been inseparable ever since.

he clears his throat, bringing his scuffed knuckles to gently knock on the door.

"my love?" he calls out to her.

his daughter perks up, her breathing changing slightly as it rises and falls with a hint of apprehension. she glances over her shoulder to see him.

"where's mama?" she asks, her question shattering the man into a million pieces at her subtle dismissal.

"taking a shower," he answers cooly, "but I'm here to get you ready for bed..."

her lovely eyes refuse to lock into his own, and she simply tucks her lip between her bottom teeth to avoid giving nanami a reply.

she looks so much like him when he was a child. he remembered when his parents used to scold him too, and how he would also hide away in his room. the only difference is that nanami's parents were far more traditional - a time where elders were never submissive to young hearts.

"may I come in?" he requests politely, ensuring that his daughter knew she had a choice if she wanted to speak to him.

her nostrils flare slightly while she considers him, but to his relief she nods her head eagerly.

nanami steps into her room, always feeling largely out of place amongst her things. "did you find a story for bed?" he asks.

she again quietly nods her head and picks up her favorite book; a compilation of japanese folktales with beautiful illustrations. you both have been reading one for her each night ever since she got it it as a present from her grandparents.

he crouches on his knees to meet her at eye level. "you've really been enjoying this one, haven't you?" he carries on, hoping to coax more words out of her.

“yeah,” she replies in the same mousy voice of uncertainty. she shifts her attention away when she stands on her feet, clutching onto the stuffed bunny tightly while her other hand swings the book by her side.

“and what tale are we reading tonight?”

she shrugs her shoulders with indifference, a hint of pink blushing her cheek. “I dunno. I…I can just until mama is ready���”

nanami visibly slumps. her rejection an entirely new painful experience that he's never endured before. he scratches the back of his head anxiously, finding himself at a loss for words. the seconds pass, an awkward bubble surrounding both father and daughter. it’s only broken when nanami exhales a sigh, and reaches his hands towards her waist to draw her into his frame.

“darling,” he addresses tenderly, “can you look at me?”

“no, you were mean…” she blurts out, her bottom lip trembling slightly.

nanami’s heart sinks.

that’s the first time he’s ever heard those words from her lips.

“I know,” he murmurs shamefully.

her mouth forms into a tiny button of a pout but she meets his eyes for the first time as he acknowledges his behavior.

nanami arches forward to kiss her forehead, “I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that, sweetheart. I’m so sorry if I upset or scared you”

she fidgets with the book in her hand. “did you not want onigiri?” she asks, her innocence tugging the corners of her father’s lips into a small grin.

“it wasn’t the onigiri, my love,” he reassures, “daddy just…had a bad day at work…”

“why was it bad?”

nanami sighs once again.

she still doesn’t know that he’s a sorcerer. you’ve both reduced his position to her by simply explaining that nanami “helps and protects people".

thankfully your daughter doesn’t pry too hard to ask any further questions.

“someone I know got hurt. so, daddy was a little shaken up when he came home…”

"shaken up?"

"scared, my love"

his daughter shakes her head in disbelief, “nu-uh, you never get scared, papa” she rebuts.

nanami huffs out a laugh, flashing her a full grin now as he brings his fingers to his chin to to ponder her sweet statement. he quirks his brow and cheekily replies, "we can't all be brave like you," in an attempt to lighten the mood.

his daughter narrows her eyes towards his hand, her mind instantly distracted with other things already. "you got hurt too papa!" she gasps, dropping the bunny by her side to point at his knuckles.

nanami glances at his fingers covered in red marks.

"wait!" she exclaims as she places the book by his side. "I have something!"

she spins on her heel and rushes towards one of her drawers. meanwhile, nanami just takes her in with his love soaked eyes, watching as she rummages through her stuff with determination until she scurries back his way.

"got it!" she squeaks with a smile, and to his surprise she jumps right into his arms with such nonchalance it nearly make him crumble on the spot.

your voice echoes in the back of his mind: "we will always love you, kento. unconditionally. on your good days and your bad ones"

"mama bought it for me," she explains, regaining her father's attention once more.

nanami rests his cheek on her shoulder, and inhales her powdery scent as he keeps one arm warmly secured around her waist. he watches her peel off the plaster of the band aid, lbefore grabbing his hand and placing it unevenly over his knuckles.

"now a kiss!" she adds, as she brings his hand to her mouth and exaggerates a loud "mwah" sound for emphasis. "mama says the kiss is what makes it all better"

nanami instantly feels significantly better from this remedy of love. he extends his digits out, and looks at the hot pink "hello kitty" band aid that now rests comfortably on his knuckles.

"thank you, my darling," he coos and peppers her cheek with a few kisses before turning her to face him once again. "you made me feel a lot better"

she flashes him an equally large smile in return, showing off her missing teeth.

"I did?"

nanami chuckles as he scoops her up in his arms to give her a well deserved bear hug. she laughs as he stands on his two feet, and sheds away any lingering thoughts of apprehension that may have stuck.

"you always do," he reassures, his soul vibrating back to life when he feels her return his embrace. “you think you can forgive me for how I spoke earlier?”

“yeah,” she confirms and squeezes him just a little tighter. "I love you lots, papa"

"oh, my angel," he hums, "you have no idea just how much I love you too..."

･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･

after winding down from your evening pampering session, you decide to pass by your daughter's room to check on your little family. you peer through the cracked door to find nanami spread out on your daughter’s bed, with your daughter curled into side and her head resting on his chest.

“did I come from a peach too like momotarō?” you hear her ask, but your heart flutters at the sight of your husband’s pearly whites.

you’ll never get over how much you love seeing him smile with such genuine emotion.

“no,” you hear nanami reply calmly, his finger lightly holding the page open. “you remember your mother explaining how you used to live in her stomach first?”

“oh yeah,” your daughter replies with a hint of disappointment over the fact that she was not birthed from a piece of fruit as mentioned in one of her favorite folk tales.

“shall I carry on?”

“uh-huh,” she answers and she readjusts her position to get even more comfortable. "I think if we look hard enough we might find momotarō..."

"you think so?" your husband wonders with honest curiosity.

"I know so, papa!"

"how many peaches do you think we need to check?"

"hmmm," she mumbles, "maybe a million?"

"a million?" your husband dramatically replies, "that's a lot of peaches don't you think,"

"I mean, it's less than a billion..." she responds quite matter of factly.

you catch his gaze from between the door that’s ajar. his expression fully relaxes, and you smile knowingly in his direction at the sight of father and daughter making up.

“papa?” his daughter questions upon his sudden silence, but your husband keeps his focus on you as he hums in acknowledgement before replying, "you're not wrong, but it'll still be quite a challenge to cut through a million peaches..."

"we might need some help," your daughter adds on.

you blow him a secret kiss as to not interrupt further, and quietly close the door before heading back to your bedroom.

[amazingwriter101]

🎀Random Astrology Notes🎀

Hiii! It's been so long since the last time I posted (I was so busy at uni) I hope everyone is doing fine! 💙 Here's my random astro notes/observation 💋

🎀 Venus in Aquarius are likely attracted to someone who is intellectually stimulating, unconventional, and values independence. This placement desires a partner who embraces uniqueness, is open-minded, and engages in deep, thoughtful conversations. So someone who respects personal freedom and enjoys exploring new ideas will appeal to this placement.

🎀 Someone with Juno in Sagittarius seeks a lifelong/long-term partner who is adventurous, optimistic, and growth-oriented. Someone who shares a passion for travel, learning, and expanding horizons would be ideal. They value truth, honesty, freedom,and a relationship filled with excitement and exploration.

🎀 People with Water Rising + Earth Sun (especially Scorpio Risings) can leave a strong first impression. They will most likely come across as someone who is intense, ambitious, and confident with a hint of rebelliousness. Their aura feels like a combination of mystery, authority, charisma, and boldness.

🎀 Moon in Virgo is probably the perfectionist of the zodiac who can't relax until everything is labeled, organized, and sanitized. Your idea of emotional security? A perfectly curated to-do list and color-coded spreadsheets for feelings and activities. One of the best people to give constructive criticism (unless you're very sensitive, believe me their words can hurt even tho most of the time they don't mean to hurt you.) They see emotions are just puzzles waiting to be solved.

🎀 Leo Moon + Scorpio Rising = walking contradiction. Their duality is wild. Enigmatic, mysterious, private mask with the scorpio rising while the leo moon screams for applause, admiration and center of attention. it's like "Hey, notice me but don't make it obvious." "look but don't touch." such a power play.

🎀 Venus in Pisces is the hopeless romantic that probably see red flags as a beautiful shade of crimson and admire it. Stop saying you can fix someone, you can't! Please stop falling for potentials and trying to save individuals who doesn't even want to be saved. Forget the "Love is sacrifice", you're not their therapist, and martyrdom isn't sexy.

🎀 Venus in Leo folks love to make an entrance—they’re like DIVA of relationships. They expect their partners to shower them with attention, affection, and maybe a red carpet once in a while. If they’re not getting enough adoration, they might just start singing “Single Ladies” to themselves.

🎀 Moon in Aquarius person feels more at home in a group chat about physics than on a cozy night in with a romantic partner. They’re super into ideas, innovation, and making a difference—but don't ask them to express their feelings too much. You might get a "let's analyze this emotionally" instead of a hug. Might not work with someone who wants a lovey-dovey affectionate relationship.

🎀 Saturn in Taurus is the person who buys the most reliable, sturdy chair at the furniture store... and then waits 20 years to get a new one because "it’s perfectly fine." They have an unshakable commitment to stability and material comfort, but they might be a little too attached to their "favorite" blanket—don’t even think about touching it.

🎀 Venus Conjunct Mars in natal chart is like the romantic-comedy genre. The chemistry is palpable, and there’s a lot of flirtation, passion, and energy flying around. They’re the kind of person who can turn a quick coffee date into a whirlwind romance—and probably end up with matching tattoos by the end of the week.

🎀 Venus in Aquarius is the quirky, "I’m not like other people" type of lover. They’re attracted to what’s unique, eccentric, or revolutionary. Their idea of a perfect date might involve a debate about the future of technology or attending an avant-garde art exhibit. Forget the traditional romantic gestures—they’d rather build a robot together.

🎀 Venus in Taurus is the ultimate “Netflix and chill” person—literally. If you know the tiktoker that lives the fancy life, eating steak, travelling and enjoying? That's a good definition of Taurus and their ideal life. They value comfort, stability, and all the luxuries of life, especially good food and soft blankets. They’ll adore you with cuddles, gifts, and the finest chocolate—because who wouldn’t want to spoil their lover with cozy indulgences? But if you try to rush them, you might find yourself in a battle of wills. They prefer slow, steady love that’s built to last… with a side of gourmet snacks.

🎀 Venus in Cancer is a cuddly, emotional romantic 🦀 who wants to build a cozy home with their partner—and maybe a family of cats while they’re at it. They’re deeply sentimental and love making their loved ones feel cared for with homemade meals and personalized gestures. If you can make them feel safe, you’ll have their heart forever. Just don’t mess with their emotional boundaries, because they’re like a fortress when it comes to protecting their feelings.

🎀 Venus in Aries is like the spark that lights the fire of romance. They fall fast and love fiercely, but their attention span can be as short as a Snapchat story. The thrill of the chase is their thing—so, if you're playing hard to get, you're already ahead of the game. Once they're in a relationship, expect passionate moments, spontaneous adventures, and lots of energy.

🎀 Mars in Taurus is like the bulldozer of the zodiac—slow and steady, but extremely determined. They have an impressive amount of stamina and will stick with a task until it’s done right. Unlike the fiery Aries, Taurus likes to take their time and get things done with quality. Want them to rush? Good luck! They’ll just give you the side-eye and continue on at their own pace. But if you need someone reliable who’s not going to give up, this is your person.

🎀 Mars in Virgo is like a military general with a perfectly organized schedule. These folks are action-oriented, but they’re not impulsive—they want to make sure that every detail is sorted before they go charging ahead. They’re fantastic at problem-solving, and they approach challenges with a calm, methodical attitude. They’re not about drama—they’re about efficiency. But be warned: they might become slightly perfectionistic and a little too focused on the fine print, which could slow things down.

[pretty-little-mind33]

Pop music: "I cant say no to those eyes" + Tangerine ❤❤❤

SKY'S 3K CELEBRATION

i hope you enjoy this, anon ✨💕

~ 🎶 ~

When you'd convinced Tangerine and Lemon to walk into the crazily decorated Halloween store Lemon had seemed rather pleased.

Tangerine, on the other hand, looked pissed.

"I hate these things," he mutters, touching the dull end of the bloodied prop knife as the animatronic struggles through its lines. "So corny."

You're practically skipping through the rows and rows of costumes, tongue stuck between your teeth as you concentrate. You can't even hear Tangerine's complaining or Lemon swatting his hand over his brother's head.

"Shut yer mouth, can't ya see she's enjoying herself?" Lemon hisses, motioning his head towards you.

Tangerine's gaze softens and he shoves Lemon away. He walks over and sees you rummaging through the costumes. You hand him a nurse one absentmindedly.

"Gonna patch me up real good, darlin'?" he teases, seeing how skimpy the costume looks. You don't answer him as you hand him another. A fairy costume this time and Tangerine's eyes widen at how much skin the model is showing.

"Bloody hell, luv. Ya want the whole neighborhood staring?"

"Tan," you warn him and he holds the costumes without complaint, muttering an apology. It really isn't his place to judge your choice of clothing.

Tangerine walks behind you like a lost puppy as you hand him various costumes you're debating choosing and Lemon snickers—which earns him a death glare from his brother.

"Oh!" You suddenly exclaim, grabbing a princess costume. It's just the right amount of cute and slutty. You turn, showing Tangerine. "Isn't it cute?!"

Tangerine nods, imagining you in that dress and he swallows. He drops the other costumes on the shelf and takes the princess one, looking it over. You grin, turning as you can the area.

"Aha!"

Tangerine watches you grab another costume and then you show it to him, grinning wider. It's a bodyguard costume. A plain black suit, an ear com, and some shades.

"What's that for?"

"For you! I'm the princess, and you're my bodyguard!" You sound giddy and Tangerine raises his eyebrows. He certainly doesn't mind having the task of watching over you when you're at a party. He does that anyways.

He looks at the stupid costume and scrunches his nose in disgust. "Can I wear my own suit?" he asks seriously.

Your eyes light up. "You're gonna dress up?!"

"Ya, in my suit," he teases.

"And the accessories?" You point to the ear com and the sunglasses.

"Maybe." He crosses his arms, sending you a smirk.

You bat your eyelashes at him.

Tangerine's resolve crumbles embarrassingly quickly. "Shit," he whispers, "you know I can't say no to those eyes." He reaches up and his finger tips skim your cheek gently. "I'll dress up as your bodyguard, sweetheart, hm? Keep ya safe? Is that what you want?"

He's teasing but you nod and lean into his touch. You're smiling so wide he's concerned for your poor cheeks but his chest fills with warmth. He laughs when you grab the costumes and rush over to show Lemon.

Tangerine can almost hear Lemon's future taunts when he finds out how quickly he folded for you but he doesn't care.

Fuck, he's really in deep now.

tags: @kravensgirl, @brokeaesthetic, @earth-elemental18, @lqrlei, @princesssunderworld, @longlivedelusion, @thewinterv, @siriuslycaptainofthedawntreader, @simplyreflected, @kpopgirlbtssvt

[intern-seraph]

forget-me-not (Chp 1)

also on ao3

Summary: For the first time in your seven years alive, you meet someone new in your small town. Little do either of you know that your brief friendship will bind you together long, long after you are forced to part ways.

A/N: hi :)

shoutout to matcha twstjam for being my cheerleader thru this insane, ongoing journey

For those who have been following me on my socials, i'm sorry you know that this fic has been in the works for over a year as of last month. I was originally intending on publishing it only when it was complete, but it very quickly grew way out of hand and I realized that it would definitely not be complete any time soon. Still, I wanted to put it out into the world! So I decided to publish the first chapter! When will the rest come out? Who knows? I certainly don't lol ALSO the presence of forget-me-nots in the actual fic is, at most, debatable lmao i just thought it was a cool and fitting title

Anyways, I have a deep, desperate need for more jewishness in fan content, so I'm filling that dearth myself.

————

You peer out from behind the gnarled oak tree at the edge of the town park. Its trunk is almost half as wide as you are tall, and its boughs are so thick and heavy that the branches droop under their own weight. Once, there was a rope swing that hung from one of the thicker branches. It was destroyed in a storm a few years ago, and nobody has bothered to replace it since. As one of the few children living here, you don’t mind its absence much. After all, you only ever come here to read. Usually you sit on the other side of this very tree, enjoying the shade and the rustling leaves. However, today someone’s taken your spot. The stranger seems to be only a few years older than you, dressed entirely in black. Their clothes shimmer as light filters through the leaves, and you know that the fabric must be fine and expensive. Slivers of their pale skin peek out from the ends of their sleeves and the hem of their robe. It’s a far cry from the homespun woolen garments and rough, sun-kissed skin of your neighbors. The most bizarre thing about them, however, are their spiraling black horns.

You hug your book to your chest, unsure of what to do. You’ve never seen this child before, after all, and you know all of the other kids in town (all four of them, that is). Even worse, you just know that whoever this is must be rich and therefore important. Why are they here, of all places?

“Um…” You tiptoe over the tree’s massive roots and draw closer to the stranger. “Are you from around here?”

The stranger startles, and you yelp as the world burns bright green for a moment. With a grunt, you fall back and land squarely on your butt. You lie there for a second, blinking away the spots in your vision before your throat begins to tighten and tears form at the corners of your eyes. Beside you, the stranger’s blurry face appears. Your sniffling turns into sobs, and you cover your face with both hands as you start crying.

“H-hey,” says the stranger, touching you lightly, “don’t cry! I didn’t mean to scare you!”

You wail even louder, rolling onto your side and curling up into a ball. The stranger pats your shoulder stiffly.

“I’m sorry,” they whisper, voice breaking. “Please don’t be scared.”

Finally, your crying peters out. You hiccup as you wipe your tears away on your sleeve. “I-I’m sorry for scaring you,” you say. The stranger remains silent. “That was magic, right? I scared you and you used your magic…”

“That’s okay. Are you hurt?” The stranger extends a hand into your field of view and hauls you up onto your feet with little effort. Now that you can see clearly, you lean closer to examine his face. He’s a boy around your age, you think. His cheeks are round and soft but you can see where his baby fat is starting to recede. His lips curl into a small pout, accentuated by the embarrassed flush coloring his cheeks. You can’t help but gawk at his electric green eyes. They’re so distinct that, without taking his horns into account, their color and slit pupils alone would tell you that he’s not human. When he notices you’re staring, he shifts back in discomfort. You jolt and giggle abashedly.

“No, I’m okay. Uh, who are you? Are you from around here?” You start to circle him, eyeing his odd features with interest. Are those scales crawling up the back of his neck? Why is the back of his robe moving so weirdly?

“No,” he mumbles. He holds something close to his chest. A book! “I’m… from really far away. My grandmother brought me with her to do some —” his nose scrunches up “— official business. But that’s boring so I left.”

“Won’t your grandma be worried?”

He puffs up like a particularly proud pigeon. “Nuh-uh. I’m big and strong so I can take care of myself!” As he speaks, the thing moving under his robe finally lifts enough to reveal itself: a thick, scaly black tail. It swishes from side to side as he practically preens. Cute. “What about you? You’re here all alone!”

“I know everyone here, duh.” You crouch down and pick up your book, then trot over to sit in your usual spot now that it’s empty. The stranger pouts at you, puffing out his cheeks. You turn your nose up at him. “This was my spot first.”

“Says who?”

“Says me. You can sit next to me, I guess.”

He blinks slowly at you, fingers tightening on his book, before he breaks out into a brilliant smile and plops down at your side. You take note of his sharp fangs. Part of you is tempted to touch them, but you restrain yourself well enough. “What’s your name?” asks the stranger.

You give it to him immediately, pausing to spell it out letter-by-letter just to show off. He nods, but when you ask him the same question, he balks.

“Is it okay if I don’t tell you? I don’t wanna… uh…” He waves his hands for emphasis. “I don’t want my grandmother to hear about me.”

“Well then what should I call you?”

“Hmm…” He furrows his brow and scrunches his eyes shut. Then, he gasps and beams at you. “Nickname! You can gimme a nickname!”

“A nickname, huh? How about…” Your voice trails off. You stare at him, pursing your lips. First, you glance up at his horns, then his tail (thumping against one of the oak tree’s roots), then back up at his horns. “Horn…ton? Yeah, Hornton!”

“That sounds weird.”

“Too bad! You’re Hornton now!”

Hornton rolls his eyes. He opens the book in his lap, clearly trying (and failing) to look smart and above-it-all, but you can see the pointed tips of his ears turning red. Giggling, you follow his lead and open your own book. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch his petulant expression melt into contentment while he reads. He’s cute like this. He’s cute in general — which is a thought that makes you want to gag — but you especially like his sweet little smile. Although you were loath to share your spot beneath the tree, he does make for good reading company. That is, he’s quiet and doesn’t take up too much of your personal space. Before you know it, the sun is setting.

You dog-ear your page and nudge Hornton. “Hey, it’s getting late. You should go back to your grandma.” Hornton jolts, but doesn’t react as violently as he did earlier. His tail thuds against the tree trunk.

“Oh, yeah. I gotta go!” He doesn’t move, only fidgeting with his robe. “Uh, thanks for sitting with me.”

“Why’re you thanking me? It’s no problem.” You pause and look away. Feeling your face grow hot, you say, “Will you be back again?”

“C-Can I?”

“Yeah! I mean, you’re a pretty decent reading buddy, so… yeah.”

“Yes! I’ll be back tomorrow!” He smiles so broadly that you think it must hurt.

“Cool! I’ll be here after noon, that’s when our classes are over.” You stand up and start patting your clothes to get rid of any dirt. Then, you turn and give Hornton a grin of your own. “‘S nice meeting you! See ya!”

He waves timidly, eyes wide and almost shimmering. You don’t give it too much thought, you just start sprinting back down the dirt road leading into town.

—

“Mister Crowley!”

You slam the front door open, practically vibrating with excitement. The schoolmaster yelps from further inside your house, then rushes over to greet you. He’s pouting, feathers positively ruffled. Gently, he grabs you by the shoulders and gives you a once-over.

“Now, where have you been? I’ve been worried sick about you!”

“I was at the park!” You grin and hold up your book.

Crowley sighs and shakes his head. He wags his finger at you as he starts walking you to the dining room. “Now, child, what have we said about staying out late?”

“Uh… tell you?”

“Indeed! I have been very generous with allowing you free reign of the town! Nevermind all your tchotchkes and trinkets! If you’ll be gallivanting around like this in the future, make sure to inform your very magnanimous guardian beforehand! I was about to send the entire neighborhood out to look for you!”

He probably wasn’t. You know him well enough to know that. But the concern is appreciated. “Sorry,” you say.

“As long as it doesn’t happen again,” Crowley mutters. He pulls out your seat at your little dining table and returns to his own chair. Just at a glance, you can tell that he’d tucked in to his dinner before you came home. As you pick up your fork, a soft little body butts up against your calf. You squeal with delight and duck under the table to scoop up Grim, your bratty street cat. He mrows petulantly, but lets you cuddle him. It had taken a week of relentless begging for Crowley to let you take Grim in, and you had to pinky promise to take good care of him. Then, your friends got the bright idea of trying to bind the cat to you as a familiar (despite your lack of magic), and while it hasn’t worked yet, it certainly helped warm Crowley up to the idea. Something about his sweet baby becoming a beast tamer. You’re not sure what that is, and you’re definitely not a baby, but if it works, it works.

The air is filled with the quiet clink of silverware. After a while, you speak up. “I met someone today.”

Crowley nearly chokes. He pounds on his chest, coughing into his fist. It takes a second for him to recover. “You what?”

“There was a boy at the park,” you explain, “we read together.”

“What did I tell you about talking to strangers?”

“Nothing, we already know everyone in town.”

His mouth opens and closes silently. Then, sighing, he shakes his head. “Well, yes, but you were supposed to say that we don’t talk to strangers.”

“He wasn’t scary or anything,” you lie, remembering how you startled each other.

“Very well! Be careful, though. If something were to happen to you, I don’t even know what I would say, er, do!”

You pointedly ignore that slip-up in favor of finishing your meal. Pushing your chair away from the table with a screech, you grab your dishes and your cat and say a quick “good night!” to your guardian.

—

First thing in the morning when you and Crowley arrive at the schoolhouse, you’re accosted by Ace and Deuce. It’s mostly Ace doing the accosting, really, but Deuce joins him in hanging on your back like the world’s heaviest and most annoying koalas. You shake them off and whip around to start wrestling with Ace. Deuce takes his loss better, choosing to sit on the grass and watch you and Ace play fight. Crowley clears his throat several times, probably to get your attention, but you’re preoccupied and he gives up quickly in favor of unlocking the door and stepping inside. There’s a holler nearby, a series of rapid footsteps, and another heavy body falls on you with a grunt.

“Epel!” you wheeze out, squirming on top of the also-squirming Ace. “Can’t breathe!”

“Oh!” Epel rolls off of you, and you roll off of Ace. “Sorry, looked like you were havin’ fun!”

“Was fun,” Ace mumbles, “until you two crushed me.”

“Oops.”

“You didn’t die, though,” you say before you get up. “Also you started it!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“How do you guys do this every morning?” says Jack as he trots up to join you all on the lawn. He rolls his eyes in a remarkable impression of his mother when she’s scolding all five of you. “We’ve gotta go to class.”

“Ace started it!” you repeat.

“Whatever, c’mon.” Jack hauls both you and Ace up by your forearms while you both giggle. He shakes his head, marching you both into the schoolhouse with Epel and Deuce hot on your tails.

"Ah, there you are! I was wondering what was taking you all so long. Take your seats! We have Professor Trein visiting from the city today for our lesson."

Ace groans as he flops into his seat. You lean over and smack his shoulder. Deuce takes his own seat beside you, trying his best to look enthused.

Professor Trein works in the capitol as a history professor for the university. While he's nice enough (and his familiar Lucius is cute and fluffy), every time he comes to give a lesson at your schoolhouse is somehow more boring than the last. You sink down in your seat, ready to daydream until class lets out. When Professor Trein takes Crowley’s place in front of the blackboard, you feel a tap on your shoulder. Without looking at him, you take the slip of paper Ace passes.

��my mom wants u to come to a party tonite’

Aside from a time scribbled beneath the words, there’s no other information. Great. History lessons with Professor Trein followed by a party where you’ll be stuck at the kids’ table. Again. At least you have a few hours to hang out with your new friend after school.

—

After class, Epel hands out little brown sacks full of apples to everyone. “Ma ‘n Pa said that they’re ‘not fit to sell’ or somethin’, and Meemaw said I should give ‘em to all of you.” You sling your sack over your shoulder, say your “see you later!”s to your friends, and march off to the park.

Beneath your tree, Hornton is waiting. You sprint towards him, grinning, and he looks up at you with wide eyes before returning the smile. He has his book in his lap, open to a different page than he left on.

“Hi,” you say shyly, hugging your sack of apples to your chest. “Were you waiting long?”

“Not really. I mean, maybe? Dunno, I didn’t really notice.”

You sit next to him and set the apples between your splayed legs. Fishing a plump red one out, you wipe it on your blouse and offer it to him. “Here!”

“Why do you have apples?” He eyes it curiously, hand hovering over it.

“My friend’s family has an orchard so he gave us all some after class.” You wave the apple around. “Take it! They’re good!”

Hornton takes the apple. He inspects it in the sunlight for a moment, then takes a bite. His eyes light up as he sinks his teeth into the apple’s hard skin, and he demolishes the fruit in less than a minute. Licking the juice off of his lips and fangs, he mumbles a messy thanks. You just smile and bop your temple against his. As you pull your novel out of your bookbag, you take another apple from the sack and shine it on your trousers. Out of the corner of your eye, you spy Hornton staring longingly at the sack.

“You can take another if you want,” you say.

He jumps, green eyes going comically wide. Cheeks flushed a bright ruby-red, he snatches another apple from the sack and rubs it clumsily on his very expensive robes.

“Do you like apples?”

“I do now,” he replies. He’s visibly struggling to keep his attention both on you and the book in his lap.

Curious, you lean over his shoulder and try to make sense of the foreign words in his book. Your brow scrunches up. “What’re you reading?”

His body goes tense the moment you touch him, but he doesn’t flinch away. When you glance up at his face, his expression is more severe and excited than you’ve seen yet. “It’s about arky… archee… uh, it’s about buildings and art! And this is the chapter about gargoyles!” He jabs an excited claw against an illustration of a beastly statue whose jaw hangs open. Water pours down its chin. The page (and the ones preceding and succeeding it) is clearly more worn than the rest of the book. “We have a bunch at the — I mean, at home — and Grandmother saw that I really liked them so she gave me this book!”

“What’s a gargoyle?”

He looks at you like you just confessed to murder. Shaking his head, he flips back a few pages. “They’re ‘ornamental stone carvings of animals or people that project from the side of a building and serve as the spout of a gutter.’ You’ve seen one before, right?”

“No.” You lean in closer to inspect another illustration. “They’re weird.” He stares at you, aghast. You roll your eyes. “Cool weird. We don’t have these out here.”

"Oh… that's a shame. Maybe one day you could come see the ones in my home."

You peer up at him. "Maybe. I gotta ask Mister Crowley."

"Who's that?"

"I live with him. He's weird."

"Cool weird?"

"Weird weird." You nudge him with your shoulder. "Do you live with your grandma?"

"Yeah."

"So it's you and her and your parents?"

Hornton goes completely quiet. He fingers the gilded edge of the page. Softly, he mumbles, "They aren't here anymore."

"Oh. Mine too. That's why I'm with Mister Crowley."

“... Do you know what happened to them?”

You shrug and pluck another apple out of the sack. As you wipe it on your trousers, you reply, “Nah. I dunno if Mister Crowley knows, either. He says he found me in a box left outside the school. There was a note, but it only said my name.”

“Oh.” Hornton looks away. “That’s sad.”

“I guess.” You shrug again. “If they didn’t want me, I don’t want them neither.”

He stares at you, wide-eyed. All he manages is another quiet, “Oh.”

Scowling, you take a bite out of your apple. “I don’t wanna talk about it anymore. Let’s just read.”

“Okay. I… I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He seems to wilt at your curt statement. You add, “Really, it’s fine. Please, I wanna get through another chapter before I have to go.”

“You’re going somewhere?”

“Yeah, some party at my friend’s house. It’s not even for him, so I dunno why I’m invited, but I think his mom invited everyone in town.” Another bite. You look over the words on the page, not really processing them. “So I gotta go in a couple hours.”

“That must be nice,” Hornton sighs. “Getting invited to parties all the time.”

“What? No, it’s boring. It’s just boring grownup stuff most of the time. It’s only fun when it’s a birthday party, and there’s only four other kids in town so those never happen.” You emphasize this with a long groan.

“Really?” He thinks on this for a moment. “I guess it’s like the parties Grandmother throws.”

“What kinda parties?”

“Uh, they’re… big and fancy, but there aren’t any kids at all. And I can’t go dance or talk to people. And… um… it’s a lot. I don’t like them that much.”

You watch him as his voice shrinks and his head droops. Gently, you bop your temple against his. He perks up a little. With a small smile, you say, “Maybe I can invite you to my birthday party this year. It’d be fun!”

For a moment, you’d swear his eyes water. He beams at you, reaching out to grasp your hand. “I’d like that.”

—

The party at Ace's house is full of tipsy adults while you and your friends drink your juice in a corner. Well, everyone except Ace. His mother parades him around to talk to the other adults who apparently know him. None of you envy him — he looks miserable.

It turns out that the party is for Ace's brother. He emerges from a side room with his girlfriend on his arm and introduces her as his fiancée. When Deuce gives you a questioning look, you lean over and tell him that that means they're going to get married. The adults cheer and sing and dance for hours longer; the celebration only pauses for bedtime (which is fine with you, the party was boring anyways).

The next morning, Crowley wobbles out of his room with most of his weight held up by his cane. He has a faint green tinge to his face, but that doesn't stop him from walking with you to the schoolhouse. This is all, of course, just to announce that class is canceled for the day. You gather with your friends and, after a brief argument, decide to play in the park together.

That's how you find yourself nearly tripping over a familiar figure sitting beneath the oak tree. Hornton looks up from his book, gasps, and reaches out to help steady you. You wheel your arms around haphazardly for a moment before you breathe out a sigh of relief. Then, you take in Hornton's face and gasp.

"Oh! You're here today!"

Before you can give a proper greeting, Ace hollers your name. Both you and Hornton turn to look at the four boys coming to join you. Ace stops, bare toes curling in the grass. He eyes Hornton warily, the sloppy heart painted around his left eye scrunching up. "Who're you?"

"Uh…"

"He's Hornton and he's my friend," you say for him.

"'Hornton?'" Epel repeats. He snorts. "That's a stupid name."

"It isn't my real name," mumbles Hornton.

"Your name is stupid, Epel," you snap. You cross your arms and stick out your tongue. He returns the gesture.

"You guys are children," says Jack. Epel appears comically devastated at the deadpan insult. You huff softly.

Deuce snorts. "You're the youngest!"

"By a month!"

"Your friends are loud," Hornton whispers. You nod. He picks at the page he's on, a tiny film of gold foil flaking onto his black claw. "Should I go?"

"No!" Your friends turn to stare at you. Hornton blinks slowly, pink tinting his cheeks. He smiles bashfully, shrinking a little into his robes. Ace, meanwhile, gets that certain spark in his eye that instantly makes you shoot him a glare in warning. He grins, showing off one of his missing baby teeth, but keeps his mouth otherwise shut.

"Wait, is this the kid you mentioned yesterday?" Deuce asks. He peers over at Hornton. "I thought you were kidding."

"Why would I kid about that? That'd be weird."

"'Cause you're weird," Epel mutters, and you lunge for him while he shrieks with laughter and ducks away.

"You've got pointy ears," says Jack, his own fluffy white ears swiveling towards Hornton before he turns to look at you, "kinda like your dad."

Ew. From your spot on the grass wrestling with Epel, you sit up. "Mister Crowley is not my dad."

"But you live with him?"

"So?"

"I live with my Meemaw," Epel adds. "She's not my mom."

"See?"

Hornton observes your conversation. He tilts his head and hums thoughtfully. "I live with my grandmother, that doesn't make her my mother."

"You talk funny."

"Epel!"

"What? It's true! He talks all fancy like Professor Trein!"

"Fancy?"

"Fancy!"

You roll your eyes and shove Epel. Ignoring his indignant squawk, you scurry over to sit beside Hornton. "Wanna hang out with us?"

He stares at you, mouth agape. Again, he smiles shyly. "You're really inviting me?"

"Duh," Ace drawls. "Why else would they ask?"

Hornton tucks his book into his robe. A tiny green light sparks at his fingertips for a moment as he does so. Then, he stands up. He holds his curled fists close to his chest, guarding. Ignoring his nerves, you grab his hands and use him as leverage to stand, too.

"Whaddya wanna play? Or talk about?"

"Uh… I don't know?"

"Do you guys think you'll ever get married?" Deuce blurts out. All 5 of you turn to stare at him. He goes pale before blushing furiously. "Wait, no, I mean —! Since Ace's brother's gonna get married I was thinking about it!"

You hum. "I'unno. Maybe? Mister Crowley cried last night when I asked him if I'd ever get married."

"Ew."

"Yeah."

"I'm gonna get married," Jack asserts. His tail swishes with excitement. "My mom and dad said that I'll know when I found 'the one.'"

"What does that mean?"

He shrugs. "Dunno. But they've been together for forever."

"True. Ace?"

He makes an exaggerated gagging sound. Complete with gestures. "No way! My brother and his fiancée are so gross with each other all the time! It's weird."

"It's gross 'cause he's your brother, dummy."

"And?"

"My mom's not married," Deuce says, plucking at the grass. "She says my dad was a… uh… a 'good-for-nothing scumbag'. She gets all sad when she talks about him, so I dunno about getting married."

"My Grandmother told me that I have to get married one day." Hornton shrugs. "But I don't really think about it."

"So you've never thought about your wedding?" you ask.

Ace shoves you. "You're the only one who has! You're always reading those kissing books."

"So?"

"Kissing books?" Hornton repeats.

"They're called romance and they're good!"

"Real life is grosser," says Ace. You shove him. "Hey!"

"What if we did our own wedding?" Jack interjects. Everyone pauses to look at him. "It can be like training. For when Ace's brother has his, I mean."

"Yeah but who would be who?" Deuce glances over at you, then Hornton. "Why don't you guys play the people getting married?"

"Huh?"

"Oh, yeah! Me 'n Ace 'n Jack 'n Deuce will put up the… the thing!"

"Thing?"

"A chuppah! We gotta make a chuppah!"

"We gotta get some big sticks!"

"I think I saw some branches over on the other side of the tree."

"Nice, Jack! Hey, you 'n Hornton should make some rings! We'll be right back!" Deuce scurries off with the other boys, leaving you and Hornton standing in a stunned silence.

“What?”

“I guess we’re playing wedding?” You shrug and start looking for wildflowers. Hornton watches you with wide eyes. You glance over at him. “C’mon! Help me make the rings!”

He crouches down next to you. Giving you a helpless look, he holds his hands to his chest in hesitation. “Um… how do we do that?”

“We’ll get some flowers and tie the stems! Like making flower crowns! Oh oh oh! We should make flower crowns, too!”

“Oh. I’ve never made a flower crown before. Can you show me?”

“Yeah!” You kneel next to him with a fistful of brightly-colored wildflowers. Hornton watches in rapt attention as you slowly weave their stems together, forming a ring just big enough to fit you as a bracelet. He claps when you present it. Then, without a word, you reach up and drop it onto one of his horns. Hornton sits in stunned silence for a moment before he blushes and mumbles a quiet thanks. He takes the leftover flowers and carefully weaves a crown for you, this one large enough to actually be a crown. His brow furrows as he finishes the crown and then places it on your head. Giggling, you touch the petals. “Thank you, honey!” “H-Honey?”

“Yeah! That’s what the ladies in my romance books call their gentlemen! If we’re getting married I should call you that!”

“Oh!” He smiles, shoulders hunched, then grabs one of the few remaining flowers. “Here, uh, honey. I’ll make your ring.” He winds the stem around your left ring finger, sticking his tongue out in deep concentration. Once he’s knotted the stem, he uses a claw to snip off the excess. Without your prompting, he holds out his own left hand for you to do the same.

“We match!” you whisper-shout, holding your hand next to his.

“Mhm!” His tail thump thump thumps behind him. “Wait, let me try something…” Hornton leans over and touches your flower crown and ring. A bright green light envelops the both of you, and you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. Once it fades, you crack open one eye. The flowers seem unchanged.

“What’d you do?”

“I tried a spell my Grandmother taught me. It’s s’posed to keep plants from withering!” He twists the flower ring on his finger. “I mean, I don’t know if I did it right, but if I did then we’ll always have these!”

“I like that.” You take off your own ring and cradle it in your palm. “I like it.”

A holler from Epel breaks your focus, and you turn to look at the oak. Beneath it, the boys have stuck four massive branches in the ground. Now, they’re arguing over who will give up their jacket to use as a canopy. Beside you, Hornton sighs and takes off his cloak. With a flick of his wrist, it floats up to rest atop the branches and shade the ground beneath it. The boys shut up, seeing the matter settled.

“Okay, I think we gotta start with… uh…” Deuce frowns and scrunches up his nose. After a long moment of deliberation, he looks at the rest of you helplessly.

“You gotta give each other your rings!” Ace shouts.

You tilt your head. “But we already did that while you were getting the sticks.”

“Then give them back and do it again!”

“Why?”

“‘Cause you gotta!”

You roll your eyes but slide the flower ring off your finger. Hornton does the same, cradling his delicately in his palm. You drop yours in his hand and take his. Pinching the stem between your fingers, you glance over at Ace. “Aren’t you supposed to say something?”

“I’m not the one who’s… uh…” His nose scrunches up as he thinks for a moment. “Mom called them an o-fish-ant?”

“You’re not a fish,” Deuce supplies helpfully.

“It’s ‘officiant’, stupid,” you interject. “Did you guys even pick someone for that?”

“I’ll do it,” says Jack, “‘cause if I don’t, this’ll never be done. And then I’ll miss lunch and my mom will yell at me.”

“You’re taking this way too seriously.” Ace folds his arms behind his head. “We’re just playing!”

“A wedding’s a wedding.”

“Whatever, do your fish thing!” “It’s ‘officiant’!”

Jack clears his throat. You and Hornton turn to give him your rapt attention. His nose scrunches up and one fluffy ear flicks at the air a few times before he begins speaking. “Uh, we’re gonna… start with you giving each other your rings.” He pauses, pursing his lips. “... Go on. Do it.”

You raise your left hand dutifully, and Hornton slides the flower ring onto your finger. You do the same for him. Both he and Jack look so serious about this that it’s hard not to giggle. “Okay, now what?”

“Um…”

“Oh! I remember one’a my cousins got married and she walked ‘round her husband a bunch!”

“That sounds weird.”

“It was! But she did it!”

“How many times did she do it?”

“I dunno.”

“Wouldn’t you get dizzy?” Deuce mumbles.

“I mean, she seemed fine.”

You glance at Epel, shrug, then look back at Hornton. “Wanna do it?” He nods eagerly. Again, you try not to giggle. Hornton beams. “Okay, I’ll go first! Epel, how many times should I do it?”

“Uh… I dunno, until you start getting dizzy?”

“Bet I can do more than you,” you whisper to Hornton. He stares at you, wide-eyed, then grins so sharply you barely recognize him.

“Bet you’re wrong.”

You both laugh. Taking a deep breath, you start to walk around and around and around Hornton. He spins with you, wobbling. Meanwhile, your friends count every lap. One, two, three, four — you get to seven, and decide to tap out. Hornton puffs out his chest and, a little green in the face, starts circling you, instead. He also makes it to seven.

“Aw,” you mutter. “It’s a tie.”

“I totally could’ve beat you if I went first.” You stick your tongue out at Hornton. He giggles to himself. Then, he turns to Jack. “So, uh, what next?”

“Umm…” Jack’s face screws up in contemplation. His ears swivel back and forth for a moment, before he hesitantly replies, “Uh… you’re married now?”

“I don’t think that’s it,” you say.

“Aren’t we s’posed to… kiss?”

You stare at Hornton, who appears just as flustered as you now feel. “I think so.”

“Wait!” Ace reaches into his coat pocket and retrieves a small pinecone. He sets it on the ground between you and Hornton. “You’re supposed’ta crush it first!”

“Isn’t it supposed to be glass?” Jack asks, and Ace shoves him. “Hey!”

“Do you wanna go get glass to step on?”

“... No.”

“‘Kay, then pinecone it is!” He gestures enthusiastically at the pinecone. “Crush it! Go! Go! Go!”

You squeeze Hornton’s hand, giggling, and in unison you both lift a foot and crush the pinecone under your feet. It gives a loud, crackling crunch, and its little seed pockets burst and go flying. Your friends hoot and holler in celebration.

“‘Kay, now you need to kiss!” Ace declares.

Hornton turns beet red. “Kiss?”

“Like, for real?” you squeak.

“Uh, yeah, otherwise it’s not a wedding.”

You fidget with your ring, face hot. Hornton stares at you with wide, uncertain eyes. All the while, your friends (well, everyone but Jack) chant, “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You’re the one to take the initiative. Squeezing your eyes shut, you lean in and give Hornton a brief, chaste kiss. It lasts only for a second, and from his startled squeak, it’s almost as if he expected that nothing would ever happen. Behind you, Epel and Ace gag dramatically.

“Ewww, you actually did it!” Epel shakes you by the shoulders and cackles through his words. “Gross!”

“You wanted us to kiss!” you protest. Before you can say more, he lifts you on his shoulders. Your words become a shrill squeal, and you can see Ace and Deuce struggling to lift Hornton, as well. “EPEL! PUT ME DOWN!”

“You’re married!” he crows. “You kissed someone!”

For his part, Hornton buries his face in his hands while Ace and Deuce finally manage to lift him up together.

“Uh… mazel tov,” Jack mumbles.

“We’re not actually married!” Even as you say this, you can’t help your rosy cheeks, nor the way your heart races as you meet Hornton’s electric gaze. He smiles bashfully as he grips Ace and Deuce’s shoulders for balance.

Hours later, after you and Hornton and your friends have spent the rest of the day dancing together and chatting and playing tag, you and Hornton are the only ones left at the park. Everyone else went home as the sun began to set. You run your fingers over your ring’s petals, fascinated by their softness.

“Did you have fun?” you ask, voice small. “I know my friends can be a lot…”

“Yeah.” A faint flush brings life to Hornton’s pale face. He smiles, and the sun casts him in gold. “I haven’t had this much fun in forever. Thank you.” For a moment, he hesitates, then he reaches to grab your hand. “Um… will you be here tomorrow?”

You nod, perhaps a little too enthusiastically. “Mhm! Do you… wanna read together, maybe?”

It’s as if the sun is rising again when he beams. He gives your hand a squeeze. “I’d like that.”

Though you’re loath to leave, you force yourself to give Hornton a squeeze in return before you pull back. “I gotta go before Mister Crowley starts worrying. Bye, Hornton.”

“Goodbye.”

—

When you go home, you can’t stop yourself from spinning the flower ring on your finger. Crowley asks you what you’re giggling about over dinner, and all you do is grin and show him the ring and crown. He rolls his eyes, muttering about children and their whimsies (whatever that means), and shoos you off to bed once you’ve finished and cleaned up. Before you crawl under the covers, you take off the flowers and place both pieces delicately on your nightstand.

The next day, once school is over, you run to your oak tree. You’re wearing your ring again, unable to stop looking at it and its perfectly-maintained petals. With an excited shout of “HORNTON!” you swing around to the other side of the tree.

And it’s empty.

Your heart drops.

‘Maybe he’s doing something with his grandma?’

The next day, you approach your tree again, less enthused and more nervous. He’s not there.

‘I thought we were gonna play together again.’

Day after day, you check your tree. Day after day, you’re greeted with no sign of the boy you’d started to befriend. Spring turns into summer. Ace’s brother gets married, and all you can think about during the ceremony is a scaly black tail thump thump thumping against the ground. When the leaves of your oak tree begin to turn gold and orange and red, you stop checking.

The ring and the flower crown remain just as pristine as they were the day they were made. You leave the crown on your dresser and wear the ring to class every day.

Years pass. You grow up. Your friends start taking extra lessons after classes a few times a week to train their magic. A new teacher from the city starts to visit, a young man named Divus Crewel. He teaches chemistry and alchemy, and you take to it like a fish to water. The private lessons you get from him almost help to soothe the beast of envy that grows in your chest every time you leave your friends to their magic classes. By the time you turn 13, the ring no longer fits. You keep it and the crown in a little wooden box tucked lovingly beneath your bed. Sometimes, you take them out and marvel at how little they’ve changed. Your friends, however, change just as rapidly as you do. Their magical prowess grows at a startling rate. You content yourself with cheering from the sidelines and working on your alchemical skills. Ace and Deuce try to bind Grim to you as a familiar first when you’re 16 (It doesn’t work, but your hair briefly catches fire). They next try when you’re 18 (It almost works. Crowley says it may have to do with your utter lack of any magic. You try not to feel resentful.). At last, on your 19th birthday, they succeed. It’s quite possibly the best gift you’ve ever gotten; Grim’s life is prolonged for as long as he’s bound to you.

By 20, you and your friends (by some miracle) all get accepted to the university in the city, the same one that Professors Trein and Crewel teach at. You start working under Crewel as a student alchemist (He says you’re one of his most promising students, especially because you have no magic to use as a shortcut. For once, you don’t wilt at the mention of magic.). You see your first real gargoyle on one of the older campus buildings. You take a photo, your mind conjuring up a fanged grin and excited electric green eyes. ‘Does Hornton still like gargoyles?’ you wonder as you save the photo. Years later, at your graduation ceremony, you take another photo of the gargoyle. Now, it’s decorated with a few fabric-flower leis that your fellow graduates managed to get over its head. ‘Look, Hornton, the gargoyle is celebrating, too!’

You return to your hometown after receiving your degree. Crowley graciously allows you to stay at home (although you suspect he might just like having another hand to help around the house) while you continue your work as an alchemist. Crewel has hired you full-time as a lab assistant. Every day you take the train into the city for work. Sometimes, when you get all caught up in your head and the novelty of watching the world pass by through the window, you find yourself reaching for your left ring finger to twist a ring that isn’t there.

‘It’s been almost twenty years,’ you chastise yourself, ‘why are you still thinking about that boy?’

Despite your age, your experience in romance is limited to the cheesy romance novels and cheap bodice-rippers that populate your bookshelf, interspersed between your textbooks and notebooks. For some reason, you could never bring yourself to try dating. Every time the thought comes to you, you feel the phantom sensation of a soft stem wrapped around your finger. Your friends tease you about it. Ace calls you a dweeb. Epel says you’re acting foolish over a stupid game you played as children. Deuce laughs and does a pantomime of your fake wedding. Jack just shakes his head knowingly. He’s the most understanding about it — wolves mate for life, and he gets why you would take a play-wedding to heart. That doesn’t stop him from getting a jab or two in on occasion, though.Some days, you pull the box out from under your bed and look at the flowers. As always, they look just as perfect as the day they were picked. Now that you’re older, you’ve learned more about magic. The spell required to make and maintain such perfect preservation requires both skill and a wellspring of magic. The amount of magic alone would send most experienced mages into overblot. This only stokes your curiosity. How did Hornton, a child hardly older than you, cast such a spell with ease? Who was he? It’s a question that haunts you. It’s a question you know you’ll never get an answer to.

[2cutie]

A Touch Possessive

Kung Lao x Female!Reader

summary: 18 + content! Kung Lao doesn't particularly enjoy when you train with Tomas. He thinks that's a pretty fair thing to feel all things considered, and whether or not it was true outside his head was another thing. Whether it was his ego or denial, he doesn't think you'd be too upset if he comes up with a pretty little lie to steal you away.... You won't be, right?

a/n: pretty lil thing, innit? *pats his shoulder* dimples make my brain a bit feral. also this is longgg because I was feeling very self-indulgent. (i should probs start bulleting) but enjoy sharing my sins.

Kung Lao's gaze scans the proximity of the training field, his eyes narrowing in the sun's rays. He was looking for you - of course. When was he not?

It became more of a habitual trait at this point, and he couldn't really help it. But he had a reason this time, at least.

He was just… annoyed that you were spending time away from him. Specifically with other people.

Yeah, it was totally a reason. And no, he wasn't jealous. He had this monologue in his head everyday and every time he settled on not being jealous - therefore he wasn't.

You were a champion that Lord Liu Kang had collected; Modest, sweet, kind. A quick learner. Additionally, a great fighter. So it was really nothing short of due time that Liu kang instilled your assistance in training the rest of the champions.

Lao relished in that! He would purposefully do a poor job just to feel your hands position him to a better stance. He would work harder just to strip off his shirt because he was "sweating too much". He sent Raiden a winning smirk and wink every time you fell for it. Raiden always shook his head in disapproval.

But, that delight deflated when he realized that you would be doing the same to the others as well. Your hands on Kenshi's chest? Raiden's waist?

And when you spread out Johnny's legs with your own to show him a better way to dive out of the way? You didn't actually believe Johnny needed assistance for that, did you? The actor was totally stealing his idea!

Besides, he was your boyfriend, not Johnny.

So there he was, sulking, as he searched the Wu Shi Academy for where you were.

It was after the day's training, one where you were separated to different groups. Not only did he not get to see sweat drip off you, but he didn't get to show off for you either.

Unfulfilling.

His eyes finally fell on you. You were a small distance away, conversing the shade with Tomas at your hip. Part of his mind knew you two were discussing your martial arts - after all, Tomas was most likely your instructor of the day - but the larger, more illogical part of his brain overruled that. Tomas was looking at you with those doe eyes of his after all.

He crossed over to you in record time. He called your name, purposefully interrupting the ninja mid-sentence.

You perked off the wall, looking over Tomas' shoulder upon hearing his voice. "Kung Lao?"

He stopped when was beside Tomas. Well, until he was semi-blocking assassin purposefully but not enough for it to seem on purpose. He was smart when he wanted to be. "You, uh, busy? I need your help with.." Oh, he didn't get this far. "..Something."

You blinked. "Ah." You were mildly disinterested, but who were you to deny those dimples? You turned to Tomas, who only shook his head, dismissing you. You apologized, excusing yourself to fall in step beside Kung Lao. "What's up?"

Kung Lao couldn't resist the creeping smirk on his face. He intertwines is arm in yours, pulling you closer as if to prevent you from turning around. "I kinda lost a paper this morning. You don't mind helping me, right?"

Your face scrunched, both in confusion and disbelief. "A paper?" Seriously? That's what he wanted? You turned your head around, debating about returning to Tomas. Kung Lao walked faster. "Why not just be more organized?"

"That's more of your thing. I'm more unbothered."

"So even you admit it?"

Your cheeky comment didn't go unnoticed as he glances down to you. "It's not like I'm a mess all the time, I mean… most of the time. But not all. That counts for something."

You held back several retorts to that as he guided you to his room. He released you only once you were there, opening the door to his room. He gave a nonchalant shrug and stepped inside.

Unsurprisingly, it was in disarray, but not as much as you expected from him. You eyed it over quickly. A part of you semi-hoped this cursed paper would be in the middle of the floor or somewhere in sight so you could just leave. "What paper is it exactly?"

Chinese decor was sparsely scattered, being a spare room for the monks of the academy before their arrival. There was a crest of his heritage on the wall and the desk pushed to the wall was filled with scattered papers in his messy handwriting, all in mandarin. It seemed a fair place to start.

"Training data. I think I left it somewhere around here." His eyes follow you to his desk, some sort of shallow pride swelling in his chest to have you in his shared space. He closed the door.

"Training data," you repeat, deftly shifting through the papers. "You keep track of that? I mean, that's great. I just didn't really… expect it, I guess."

He comes closer behind you, peering over your shoulder as your muse around on his desk. He feels a little offended at that, even despite it being a lie. "I always keep track of progress and achievements."

A partial lie, anyways.

You hum in response and continue to dig through his litter. You notice that he is not at all helping, but it's not much of a shocker, really. You eyed a familiar receipt in the corner of his desk. "You know.." You pick it up, holding it over your shoulder accusatory. "If you kept track of things the same way you keep tabs of this receipt with your favourite food on it, you'd be fine."

Kung Lao snatched it back. ""Hey, don't look at that! It's the only thing that makes my life worth living, so don't you dare laugh at it!" His tone was playful and exaggerated, but it was a perfect ploy for him to move closer to you.

"Ugh, you are so dramatic," you huffed, rolling your eyes. But you couldn't exactly stop the faint blush that creeped on your cheeks upon feeling the warmth emitting just behind you.

And yes, of course - of course - he noticed. He stood right behind you as you continued your fruitless search, really just keeping your mind busy. He brushed some hair off your neck to get a good look at your face. He smirked at your reaction. "I'm simply passionate about what matters to me."

Ignoring that, you pulled away from his hand and attempted to stay focused. "You could be helping."

"I know." You sent him a look over your shoulder at his dismissive tone. "But I am helping." He continues in a low tone and his arms come beside you, his palms pressed on either side of the desk, trapping you between them. Your fingers stop rummaging when you feel him press against your back. Your eyes narrow suspiciously.. "What's wrong?" He asks in feigned innocence, his lips brushing your ear. "Did I make you lose your concentration?"

"This paper doesn't exist," you state. Not a question.

You felt Kung Lao's smirk grow against your ear. He moved down to nuzzle in the crook of your neck, nodding slowly. "I know." He really couldn't even put up a lie? "I just wanted an excuse to pull you away from Tomas. He can be annoying.."

You really, really wanted to be mad at him. But his warmth, almost scorching against your back felt a little too nice and he pressed tigher to you, encasing you. You felt yourself flush. You put a hand on the desk to stabilize yourself. Focus…

"I wasn't annoyed," you attempted to argue back, keeping your tone straight. "And that's not for you to decide for me."

His right hand shifted from the table to your hip, keeping you in place. "It doesn't matter, I just don't like seeing you with him." He whispered against your neck, mouthing his lips on your skin. He moved towards your ear again, his timbre taking a firm, and almost possessive murmur. "You shouldn't be talking with him."

You felt your gut churn. That tone wasn't doing you any favours. And he knew damn well what he was doing pressing himself behind you while pushing up against the wood, the friction pressing at your core. You knew he heard you thickly swallow. "He is still my mentor," you defend, even through your stuttered breath.

"Yeah, but you don't need to train with him. You train with me too, you know?" Kung Lao defied, voice firm and possessive. His warm hand slid from your hip to your stomach, pulling you back to him tighter.

You grunted, placing your other hand on the desk. You were trying so damn hard to keep your composure, to not prize him for his actions. But feeling him press so suggestively to you, feeling the brief hard on against your ass was maddening.

He felt so annoyingly good. Your hand snaked to his wrist, squeezing a pathetic warning to him. "I am also a student. I cannot stop training simply because you're feeling left out."

You felt his chuckle vibrate beside your ear. It was too easy to sense your failing composure. His hand crept from your belly to interlock his fingers with yours, trapping it against the wood under a firm grasp. "Whatever you say," He mumbled, dripping with a smug, amused tone, knowing damn well he wasn't listening to a thing you were saying. His lips kissed the nape of your neck, his tongue running to taste your skin.

A shiver thrummed through you. How was he so good at this? You're attempting to stay determined, but your facade was crumbling. Your hand clenched beneath his, and you squirmed.

On the contrary, Kung Lao loved the way you were involuntary grinding against his hips. His lips pressed more firmly to your neck, his lips sucking at your delicate skin. His free hand went back to the side of your hip. "Ah, ah, ah," he mocked, "don't move so much."

You let out a huff through your nose. You were done with avoiding him.

But you wouldn't let him win.

In a display of insubordination, you wrapped your arm behind his neck, pushing him closer to you. You ground back on him, firm and deliberate, stealing some power back from him. He groaned, and you felt him twitch against your ass. Your fingers sank into his hair, grabbing at his ponytail.

The hand on your hip gripped tightly and he meets the angle of your hips. "Playing dirty?" He managed to get out, the natural smugness of his voice replaced by arousal.

"Like you don't like it." You leaned your head back against his shoulder, drinking in the tremors of his response. He bit at your earlobe. "You're so annoying."

"I'm taking it as a compliment," He conceded, his tongue caressing a path behind your ear. His hand trailed lower on your stomach, his thumb swiping over your underbelly.

You heart stuttered as his fingers trailed under the layer of your shirt. You tugged his head down to your height, kissing his dimple in permission to continue. You littered kisses along his strong jawline, spreading your legs and grinded against his cock encouragingly. Kung Lao leaned it to your lips, meeting your motion in return easily.

Kung Lao's hand dipped below the pants of your uniform, his dexterous fingers grazing your awaiting folds. "Gods, you're so impatient," he grunts, the rumble reverberating both beside and behind you. His voice was a blend of desire and lust as you melted into his touch.

"You're just slow," you retaliated and nipped at his neck, trying to get him to go faster already. There was no need for him to tease; you were so wet already.

He grunted at the sting of your teeth, a shudder running through him. His head pulled off your shoulder just to look down to you, his dark eyes lusted over. "I'm slow, huh?" He questioned in a low mockery. Before you could even question his response, two fingers dipped easily into you, deep. "Because I'm slow, right?"

Your whole body locked, spine arching back into him at the sudden intrusion. Neither your body or your mind expected to be stuffed so suddenly, and an absolutely pitiful whine broke from your throat. "Ah, fuck, you asshole," you panted, his fingers already setting a steady pace in fucking you open. Your slickness made you take him easily.

"Oohh, look who's getting bratty now," Kung Lao taunted with a sharp flick of his wrist. His simper spread when he felt your hot walls clench around him.

You didn't - couldn't - manage a reply to his irritable remark. Not when his fingers worked you skillfully and steadily.

And by the gods was he good with his fingers.

You were practically convulsing gently against his frame, trying to escape from the growing pleasure that was already gnawing inside you at his fingers alone. Your unbound hand gripped at his forearms, his wrist, his fingers - anything you could reach, trying wordlessly beg him to ease up.

You were eating your words now, feeling yourself mend to a moaning debauched mess, so pliant and submissive. His fingers scratched you deep and practiced; he knew your body all too well.

His eyes burned on your skin as he watched your every reaction. You writhed against his solid frame, but your body was at the mercy he didn't feel like giving you. His sighed, so satisfied, as his gaze fell on how well your pussy swallowed his fingers and drooled over his wrist. "Now look at you, so desperate and helpless.. all from just my fingers." He punctuated his words with a crook of his knuckles, hitting just right to release a whine of pleasure from you.* "You were saying you wanted me to go faster?"

Your mind took too long to process what he had said, and by the time it did, his fingers fucked were pumping in you faster, rougher. His gaze swallowed you, watching your crumble of power.

"K-King Lao, Lao, please, L-Lao," you spluttered, clenching around his fingers as you nearly sobbed. Your hips jerked in time with the thrusts of his wrist, your body chasing the pleasure without your mind's permission. His arm wrapped around your waist, enforcing you to keep partaking in the assault of pleasure. "I-I can't-"

"Yes you can. You can take it," He intercepted, keeping you pinned against him, taught. His fingers were relentless. "Don't tell me. You're overwhelmed by my fingers alone?" He purposefully hit the same spot within you, abusing it over and over again, just to feel that delicious jerk of your hips against his hardening dick.

You want to say more, but you find yourself unable to do anything more than just to stutter out breaths and broken sobs. You feel his other hand snake from your hip down, and you blush hard at the realization of what he's doing.

He spreads your folds lewdly, just for the added torture and for his own satisfaction of having a better look at his assault on you. You were dripping for him, your pussy looking so abused and full as your swallowed around his knuckles, painting them in a clear essence. Your pants fell off your hips and to to the floor finally. You kick them hastily off your ankles, not caring where they land.

You're thankful he's mostly supporting your weight. Your own legs were not an ally anymore, not having the strength as you only leaned back into him, seeking his touch and warmth. Your head fell into his strong bicep, muffling your moans into the muscle. You had half the nerve to sink your teeth into him for torturing you like this, but you were enjoying it more than you were willing to admit.

"All spread out in front of me. How can I not just take you?" Kung Lao's own breath was turning hot and ragged, the puffs hitting against your skin. He was so hard against you now, his eyes lusted over. His tongue darts out to wet his lips while his thigh snakes inbetween yours to open you up further for him.

You felt so exposed, so vulnerable and yet with him it felt so right as he admired you, devoured you with his eyes. Relentless, he pressed his thumbpad against your clit and you let out a shrill of a moan, tears hazing your eyes in pleasure. You felt your clit tremble. "L-Lao, gods, Lao.. I.. I'm going to.."

Lao chuckled deeply at the song of your shattered moan. "You're gonna what, hm?" His fingers kept their steady pace, fucking up into you while his thumb applied more pressure, swirling. He was determined to see you fall apart, to see your fall from grace. "Are you gonna come for me?"

You nodded quickly. There was no use in lying. Your mind was completely unraveled, only focused on the rising glow inside of you. Your hips rode in time with his wrist.

"Do it. Come for me." The command was a hiss in your ear, low and gravelly.

That sent you over, as if his permission held power over you.

Your release hit you - hard and crashing. You convulsed in his hands, her body arching and twitching. Kung Lao worked you through it, working you through you even as the white started to faze out of your vision. He held you firm, wanting to feel each twitch of your climax.

You sobbed and moaned his name, the only thing your mind could process, quivering as you came undone and when he worked you into overstimulation. His fingers slowed as you started to drift away from your high. The new wetness making his coating his fingers thickly.

You stuttered at the movement on your oversensitive walls. Your grimaced, shuddered. "Kung Lao," you warned. "Please."

Alright, he could be nice.

He let his fingers slip out of you, missing your encompassing heat as soon as they left you. His fingers were stained with your mark, your release dripping down his fingers. He held his hand in front of you both, forcing you to get a good look at it all the same. You painted him so beautifully.

There was a primal satisfaction he felt thrum through his body. Kung Lao took a moment to admire the sight, feeling the slick between his fingers. "Gods, look at you," he murmured, full of pride and desire. His eyes shifted to yours as he brought his fingers to his mouth, pressing them to the flat of his tongue. He slowly, savoringly licked them clean.

You groaned at that, a spike of heat bubbling in you again. You took the moment to shallow out your breathing. "You're so gross."

"You love it," he hauntingly responds, his tongue running over his thick fingers, cleaning every last drop you left on him. When he was satisfied, he hugs you to his chest. The same hand finds course to your chin and tilts your head back.

Your mouth was parted as you panted, meeting his eyes back with your glazed ones. Kung Lao's eyes scanned over your face, committing the painting of your features into your brain

"You look so beautiful when you come undone by me." He leaned his mouth forward, hovering just above your lips. You think he's going to kiss you, until his fingers press your lips. The same fingers you came on. "Taste yourself," he ordered.

You didn't protest. His fingers dipped into your mouth and you pressed your tongue to them. Your taste was faint, but still you obediently listened to him. As his fingers pushed deeper, your tongue wraps around his index, slick and warm before you swallow. You suck on them, your eyes never leaving his as you watch his desire unfold in his eyes.

"That's it," he praises. "Taste good, don't you?" You had enough sense to glare harmlessly to him. He takes his fingers out when he's content, a trail of saliva falling disconnecting. "You look adorable trying to glare at me when you're flustered and dazed."

"I can't believe you lied about some paper just to feel me up." You tried to break out of his hold, your mind catching back up to remind you that you should be annoyed with him.

"Hey, hey, don't get mad at me. I was just having some fun." His grip was unrelenting. "I feel like you should reward me for even letting Tomas flirt with you in the first place."

You were allowed enough room to turn in his hands, facing him with an unamused look. "He was not flirting with me," you argued back. "And you don't get anything just for being jealous."

Kung Lao sent you an incredulous look. "Are you really truing to deny it? You must be completely clueless then. It was so obvious. And I wasn't jealous," he added on petulantly.

"Tomas was not.." You trailed off, thinking back to some parts of your conversation with the assassin. Perhaps, just perhaps, Lao had a point. "It's not important," you ignored his smug 'hah!'. "I wasn't flirting with him, anyways."

"You're just as oblivious as always," he retorts. "And just because you weren't doesn't mean anything. I don't like how he was all over you. He knows I'm yours."

You ignored how your heart clenched when he said that. "You are still not getting anything just because you got jealous. And yes," you tacked on quickly, "You are jealous."

"Wha-" He sputtered. "I am not jealous! Why would I be jealous of him of all people?" He huffed, an indication that he was, in fact, incredibly jealous but refused to admit it.

"Possessive then? Infatuated?" You crossed your arms over your chest. "Envious? Bitter? Which synonym would you prefer?"

Kung Lao releases a frustrated huff, knowing this was going nowhere. His eyes flicked away as you continued to drive in your point. "Fine, I was.. a little jealous. Are you happy now?" His tone was still defensive, but there was a small glint of resignation.

"You were all of the above," you corrected, eyeing him.

He rolled his eyes. "Alright, you got me. I'm infatuated, envious, whatever. Anything else you wanna add to the list?

"Sure," you practically purred and reveled in the way his shoulders slumped. "Egotistical, flamboyant, cocky…" He were enjoying the sulking look of his. "And looks so damn good when he admits it."

His brown eyes look back at you, that smirk returning to play on his lips when you mentioned the last part. His ego never took a bruise for too long. "You forgot humble and modest.'

"Oh, right," you muse, matching his energy. You smirk up to him, unfolding your arms as you cock your head to the side. "The great Kung Lao."

His eyes seem to gleam back to you, enjoying the banner. A sense of confidence washed over him at the title. "Greatest warrior of all time." So self-assured.

"And exactly what does the great Kung Lao think he deserves since he so believes he's entitled to something?"

"I think as the Great Kung Lao I'm deserving of many things. Recognition, respect, admiration…" his eyes flicker down to your form, his gaze walking over you "Among other things Tomas won't get."

You give him an unimpressed look. "And what do you want now?" You ask instead.

"Well, for one" He stars, "For you to stay far away from Tomas. And for two.." Kung Lao moves in, backing you up against the desk once more, the back of your thighs digging into the wood "I think I deserve a little reward. For being honest about my feelings." Your legs bend until you're sitting on the edge, and neither of you care about the papers you may be crumpling. His hands are on either side of you again. "A nice, hard, long reward."

Your hands rest of his shoulders, eagerly squeezing at his muscles. His hands come to pull apart your thighs to slot between them. Your turn to lick your lips. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lao's body is firm as he pulls you by your legs to him. "And I think I'll take here, right now."

"On the desk? Seriously?".

"What? You don't like the idea of it?" His hands explore the contours of your sides. "You didn't mind a moment ago."

You sigh, defeated, and instead pull at his vest. "You're overdressed," you mumble, rising your eyes to his expectantly.

"I can fix that, easy." He moves away just enough to start undoing the buttons. Each undone button is a tease to his tanned skin below, a shade that has your mouth watering in anticipation. He pulls it off his arms, tossing it somewhere on the floor. His chest is bared to you, muscles rippling with the movement.

Your eyes roam him appreciatively and your hands find his skin again, massaging into his toned chest. He's well aware of how built he is, and even more aware of how much you appreciate it.

Kung Lao leans back, his face close to yours as he sends you that cock-eating smirk. "You like the sight, huh?" He teases. Like he had to ask.

"So obnoxious." You pinch his dark nipple in retaliation.

"Hey!" He lets out a shocked gasp, and his chest twitches at the sudden pinch. "Watch it now, that's sensitive." He pouts, rubbing a hand over the abused peck. He gives a brief glare before his smirk creeps back. "Do it again."

You let out an exasperated huff. "Ruining the moment."

He laughs, settling his grip on your hips. "You never complained before. Besides, you're the one who pinched my nipple."

"As if you didnt' like it," you retorted. You brought your hands to his face, carressing over his soft skin, your eyes drinking in his spellbinding features. Your fingers trail over his soft lips, the curve of his smile before tracing the dents of his dimples, staring at them in awe.

The dents deepened. "A fan?" His lips kiss your fingertips.

"Unfortunately."

"Only unfortunately? That hurts." His large hands squeeze you. "Can't help I have a handsome face. Lucky you, hm?" His self-assured confidence was back in full force it seemed.

"Hm," you repeated, matching his tone. "Looks ever better between my thighs."

There was a nice reaction. His eyebrows shot up at your boldness, his teeth peeking beneath his lips. "Is that an invitation?" He asks, voice lowering to a more seductive undertone. His hands shifted the inside of your legs, pushing them.

"Take it as a suggestion, if you will."

His hands stopped the junction of you pelvis. "I think I'll have to take you up on that." He kneels on the floor, quick and impatient, forcing your legs to expose yourself in the process. He's practically drooling already, and you were already bare, ready for him from the previous sin. Your pussy was a delectable sight but he still managed to trail his eyes back up to you when he heard the quick intake of breath.

Your hand shifted to the back of his head.

"Eager?" He teases, his breath fanning over your sensitive skin. You have half the mind to tell him to shut up but the words are lost when he leans in, his tongue licking a long stripe up you.

Your whole body jolts from the contact, and his hands have to hold you down atop your thighs, keeping them spread so you don't squeeze him. Not just yet, anyways. When he presses his lips to yours, sucking, a squeak leaves you and your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling at his scalp.

He can feel you twitch and squirm, both beneath his palms and on his tongue. His ego inflates at the sound of your pleasure. He chuckles, the deep vibrations coursing inside of you. "Sensitive, aren't you?" He teases between licks, his tongue lapping at the wetness unfolding before him. You can feel yourself opening to him. His fingers dig dents into your plush thighs, keeping you in place as he continues, dipping his tongue inside of you.

"Oh gods," you whimper. You can't manage a reply, not right now. You undo his ponytail, letting his hair fall free to his shoulders, and you grip it to ground yourself.

Kung Lao lets out a low moan as he swallows your lather, a taste he can never be filled of, and you jolt at its vibrations. His eyes open to see you, drinking in that delicious look of ecstasy on your face. It spurs him on, his tongue working inside your hot folds with more fervor. "You're shaking," he murmurs between sucks, and his eyes are blown wide as watches between your thighs, full of hunger.

You know that, damn him. But your face still flushes deep red from hearing it from him and you whimper, trying to stifle your moans. Seems you're being stubborn. He can't have that; He'll just have to pull them out of you.

Kung Lao sucks on your clit, grazing it just lightly between his teeth, before his tongue flattens against it to soothe it. He places open mouth kisses to your folds. He wants to hear every sound, feel every whimper and gasp of pleasure on his tongue and lips. He wants it all to be for him. His tongue rides inside you, moving quick and with purpose.

You pull him more taught, pressing the both of you closer, to have him deeper. He sucks and you jerk, a moan leaving deep within your chest. His hands fall away from your thighs, instead dipping underneath your hips and crushing you to him. His mouth covers the whole of you, and he moans in satisfaction as your thighs instantly squeeze around his head, twitching and trembling. An approving grunt follows.

He has more access to you, his tongue exploring each wet cavern and crevice of you, and you can feel each path it takes, each thrust the appendage pulses into you. You're not sure if you can decide if you like his tongue or lips on you better, but fortunately you don't have to decide.

He loves every second of this, loves every drop you make for him to swallow.

Your lips are parted as you heave your breaths, the blush running down your chest and dusting your shoulders. He doubles his efforts, his tongue fucking furiously against you. He wants nothing more than to see you writhe and cry out beneath him.

And yet, when you feel yourself fading, can feel yourself getting too far gone, he stops. Sudden and short, and you feel empty as his and unfulfilled as his tongue sinks out of you.

You hear him growl as he pulls away, not entirely wanting to himself. But he's craving you carnally.

You whine in protest, panting. His chin is wet with your slick and it makes your body flame hotter.

Kung Lao's eyes are darkened with desire, his own breathing ragged. He can still taste you on his tongue, can feel the evidence of his work on his chin. "You taste so good," he praises as he licks his lips. His hands squeeze you encouragingly. "But I need more. I need you."

He rises to his feet without another warning, his body towering over yours since you slipped down to your forearms. One hand stays upon your thigh, the other coming to caress your face, his thumb tracing your plump bottom lip. "I need inside you," *he mummers, voice rugged. His body presses against you, his aching cock pressed right up to your clit through the confines of his fabric, but you still felt it twitching when he feels your wetness touch it. It's evident how much he desires you.

"I think you may have a kink for desk sex," you comment idly, your breath ghosting his lips. You shudder at how hard he is.

He leans down, his lips brushing against yours in a deep kiss. But it's short before he pulls away, his breath hot as he responds. "Maybe." His hand slips to your neck, a shiver running through you. "I think it's just you." He pushes you backward until your back is laying on the desk.

"That's so stupid and cheesy," you comment but bite your lip. He grabs at the top of your uniform and slides the rest of it over top of you, leaving you just in your bra. His eyes soak in the sight hungrily, greedy. It cups your breast so nicely…

But no as perfect as it would be with his hands. With that though, he gropes your bust, pushing the plush of it up against your bra, plumping the skin. He nearly pants at that alone. Maybe he was a boob guy afterall.

It takes his mind a moment to process you responded. "I know you don't mind it." His hand continues to knead over the lace of your bra, a touch possessive. His eyes have a dark gleam to them.

His hand pushes beneath the band of your bra, pushing it up until your bare breasts bounce out below and he wastes no time in pressing his palms to them. You arch into his touch.

A hum of approval sounds in his throat. The peak of your nipples are enticing, and he runs it between his fingers, feeling it harden at the attention. He presses the peak with his thumb, his eyes roaming to your face to watch your expressions.

"You're being handsy," you comment, pretending as if this was having no effect on you.

He tilts his head. "Can you blame me? You're just too tempting." He shifts the bra off you afterward, another garment falling somewhere to the mess of his floor. "There's so much I want to do to you.."

"Why don't you start with kissing me?"

A soft chuckle leaves him. He presses flush against you again, taking in the sight of your flustered skin. "I'm definitely doing that," he mumbles over your lips, teasing you before finally capturing yours in a deep, passionate embrace.

His tongue wastes no time in licking into your mouth, tasting, his hands holding you in place as he tastes you hungrily. You kiss him back with the same fervor, but you let him dominate the path of your lips, the ferocity of the moment. Your legs encompass him, wrapping over his sharp hips. You grind up into him. moaning as he meets your movement, his desire so hard as it slides against your wanting folds. Your fingers find their way back to his hair.

"I have a question," you murmur inbetween of kisses and you nibble on his bottom lip before salving it with your tongue.

Kung Lao shudders. He breaks his next kiss, keeping close as he looks down with lidded eyes. "Listening."

"Can you just get the fuck inside of me already?"

His tongue rolls over his teeth, dimples returning. "So bossy." But his hands are already moving down to the waistband of his pants, pulling them down without a waste of another second. There's a bit of arrogance in his expression when he's there nude above you. "I like it. But can't you wait a little bit longer?" He's purposefully teasing you.

"Make me wait any longer," you started, a grumble in your chest, "And I'm going back to Tomas."

A laugh escapes out of him, his head dipping back in amusement. When the laugh ends, his head dips toward you again, his eyes gleaming with annoyance and a flash of possessiveness. He leans in, his lips hot against your ear, his voice dipping low and dangerous as he speaks. "Don't you dare every joke about that," he nearly growls.

"Then get on with it." You lick a hot stripe from the curve of his collar bone, up the length of his neck, tasting his sweat and pulse beneath his tongue. You stop at his chin, placing a wet kiss there. The sight of his thick, twitching and curved cock nearly makes you feral. Precum drips out of its slit and your mouth waters.

Kung Lao shudders overtop of you, a moan escaping past his lips. His self-control is fading, the desire of how badly he wants you surging forth. It was driving him wild.

He finally kicks off his pants completely.

You are both bare and exposed, the heat between the both of you scorching. Your hands seek his skin, following the valley of his contours before finding purchasing in wrapping around his neck, keeping him close to you. Your breaths mingle, tasting each other's. You're so ready for him, it almost hurts with every pulsing throb that runs through you. You peck his lips, looking into his eyes as you await him.

You don't dare to blink. You always loved watching his expression when he sunk into you, afterall.

He sigh when he finally, finally, lines himself up to you.

His chocolate burn you, committing the feel of your legs around his waist to his vast memory of you. His heart is pounding in the confines of his chest, his body tight with need for you. "You're beautiful," he can't help but mutter, his words barely more than a whisper. He drinks in your every feature, his breath catching in his throat as he finally, slowly, pushes into you.

His girth stretches into you and your warmth envolpes him, so easily encompassing, your body familiarized with every part of him. You grunt at his entrance, your head dipping back onto the desk. Your hips arch up into him, his cock curving into you deeply. He holds you steady.

You're so tight, so hot, so wet. So perfect for him.

Your hand squeezes the back of his neck, the other raking your nails into the curve of his back as you ground yourself into the moment. "Kung Lao," you moan out his name, watching his eyes dilate, his eyebrows scrunch in pleasure as he hilts into you.

He's always so expressive in that moment, with how his lips part open, his eyes haze beyond his control.

"You feel so good," he grunts, ragged and deep, his lips still parted as he breaths out the words. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment at sensation of your nails dipping into his skin, his body rigid with pleasure. He loves that sound of his name on your lips, the way you say it; the way you need him in this moment.

He begins to move, his hips thrusting into you slowly at first. His hand bruise your hips as he tries to maintain the last threads of his control. His eyes open to fixate on your face.

He didn't need to wait for you to adjust. Not when you were so used to him, not when he prepared you so well. He moves inside of you deeper, accumulating you to his increasing movement. His breath fans off your skin, both of your moans slipping into the other's mouth.

You're so slick around his cock. He opens you wider for himself, a hand holding you down on your thigh, while the other glides to the dip of your knee and raises your leg up, settling it over his shoulder to spread you. His angles his hips a new angle, delving into you deeper.

You can practically see the moment in his eyes when he feels you fully adjust to him, the flash of lust over his pupils when he knows he can pummel you. He marks your plush skin possessively, his thumb stroking the skin that plumps under his grip. He drinks in every twitch, every pass of pleasure on your face and every moan that escapes from your lips. His pace increases steadily.

"You're so pretty, Kung Lap," you praise and he kisses your knee. "I like when your hair is down. Fuck, you feel so good." Your hips undulate as his thrusts turn more purposeful, more pointed.

Your compliments wash over him, his pulse jumping. Something in him always burned when you praised him, something primal. "You feel amazing," he responds, hips thrusting faster into you, your skin slapping off each other, the sound filing into the background.

You pussy clenches around him, pulling a moan from the both of you. You shiver at the sound of his moan, a ripple of pleasure coursing through you. You can hear how wet you are becoming, the lewd sound of your sex filling the room, amplifying your shared lust. The desk begins to creak beneath you as he picks up his pace to something more relentless.

Kung Lao's eyelids flutter again. You were going to kill him with how much you twitched and clenched without realizing. The desk was a countertenor to your lyrics of pleasure, urging him on, riling him to to pull more from you.

"You're so tight," he grunts.

You cursed below your breath. He hits into you so deep, so bruising. "You make such pretty sounds, Lao," you whisper. "Please keeping moaning. F-for me."

Your words course a shiver down his spine. He ruts into you, and it earns a deeper and more guttural sound from him. He pushes your thigh further up on his shoulder. "Don't stop talking," he growls out, his breathing coming out more heavy and broken as his thrusts stutter.

You poke an eye open, watching his sanity crumble. Your other eye opens. "You like when I talk to you?" You ask around broken moans. "Like when I praise you for being a good boy?'

Your eyes paint with lust when he nods, his eyes nearly rolling back at the title. "I love it," he gasps, steadying his weight on an arm as his thrusts slam into you. Your voice, your choice of words, drive him wild. His hips buck into you more urgently, less rythmatic, relying more onto his fraying instincts. You know his you a bruise in shape of his hand by tomorrow. "Do not stop. Please don't stop."

Who were you to deny that? "The great Kung Lao falls at such simple words.. So beautiful when he's like this." You moan at a particularly harsh thrust, spine jerking into him* "So pliant. My good boy.. good puppy."

Kung Lao nearly whines at that. You both demean and praise him as one, and he can't resist the pull it has over him, his movements turning sloppy as he ruts into your hips. He released a loud moan, his eyes practically pleading with yours. "I'm your good boy," he agrees, his body all but melting, his hips driving into you with a desperate need.

And yet you crave even more. You know he can give you more. "Don't be so gentle with me, pretty," you coo. "Go harder. Be rough. You can do that for me, can't you? Baby?"

A guttural moan passes his lips at the neediness in your request. He likes it rough. He loves it even more when you give permission to be rough.

"Anything," he nods. "Anything you want." He rightens his grip on and does an experimental thrust into you, harder, brutal as he drags you down onto him in time with his plunge. He doesn't wait for a response, diving right into a savage pace, jackhammering into you at an animalistic rhythm. His muscles strain, but gods he needed this.

The force of his hips send the desk into an endless creaking state that threaten to splinter, scraping against the floorboards. The back of it bangs against the wall with each calculated thrust, but neither of you can find a care to stop. A large part of him is riled knowing someone could hear you both, knowing that they're hearing him claim you.

"T-that's it," you affirmed. "Y-yes, Lao. Doing.. so-so good. Feel so good."

"You're mine," he states with a deep growl," the thought of someone - hopefully Tomas - hearing this was driving him to an almost overwhelming state. His hips bounced off yours in an impairing force, the sound of your coupling growing desperate, urgent.

"Yours," you confirmed. Your head throws back, your throat presented to him. Tempting… "F-fuck, Kung Lao..!"

That smirk returns to his lips, seeing the expanse of your throat bared to him. His head dips to it, his lips sucking over your pulse point. His teeth graze it, teasingly. "You have no idea how good you look like this.."

Moans spill from you, falling from your lips in an overflow and he soaks the vibrations of them, bites them. Your nails leave crescent dents into him, red marks burning into his back.* "Tell me about it," you request in a helpless whimper.

His teeth pave a burning pathway to the side of your cheek, his deep grunts filling your ear. "The way you open up for me." he starts, his voice sensual and gravelly with need, his body practically molding itself against you as he bounces you off of him. "The way your pussy takes me, the way your body responds.. Your moans.."

"Yeah?" Your urge him on, your own body responding to his words. "How wet I get for you?"

Kung Lao moans, the sound guttural. His lips find your jawline, pressing nibbles across it. He's driven by your words. "So wet, so tight."

The best part about that was just how amplified it made the sounds between you two. The loud, wet squelch. It made everything so much more intoxicating.

"You do it to me, it's all you, K-Kung Lao," you sputter out. Your lips messily find his.

This was so obscene, so disgustingly perfect. "All me, no one else," he growls between your tongues' intertwining, his pants hot and heavy as his thighs slam off yours. "No one else can make you feel this."

The hickeys he left tingle on your neck, and you relinquish in their burn. Your tongues dance in a heated, messy display, hands groping any part him you can reach. You find the column of his throat and you squeeze, firmly. "Only you," you agree. "S-so keep fucking me, Kung Lao. Make me come on you, let me feel - fuck - feel you inside me.. Please? So I know I'm yours. I-inside and out."

Kung Lao's lips part in delight, in pure pleasure at the restriction around his throat. The sound of your light begging, telling him to make you come? He would do anything you asked in that moment. "Fuuck, you're mine."

His hands grip onto the underside of your hips and lift you, the change of inclination allowing him to thrust into your warm cavern deeper.

Your moans leave you without any sense of control or restraint. You can only willingly take what he's pounding into you, your mouth agape as moans stream out of your raw throat. You're burning, so is he, and you can feel the familiar urge settling in your stomach.

He knows you're right there on the edge because he's there too, but his focus is entirely on you. "Come for me, baby girl," he grits out, driving into his hips. "I need to feel you." He grunts out your name, and you think that was the thing that truly breaks you.

You bury your fingernails further into him, ground yourself, overwhelmed by him. You moan his name loudly, the only thing your mind could process onto as you came for the second time, more immense than the last.

He watches you you fall apart beneath him, your climax painting you into the perfect picture of debauchery. Your inner walls tremble and grip him, aside your spiraling cries, and it's almost enough to send him following right over the edge. Almost. "You're perfect," he gasps out, gripping your thigh closer to him, using it as an anchoring point to plow into you.

Your breath remains shuddered, moans still slipping past your lips as he continues to fuck into you even in your hazed, barely there mindset as you tried to find solace after your release. Your hips jerk gently out of your control, bucking back up to him as he chases his own ecstasy. Your eyes are blurred, pupils blown wide as you keep your vision trained on him.

One look at your eyes and he knows he's done for, but he holds on, stuttering with more urgency. "I'm close," he rasps out, strained. "So close."

"Please," you beg to him in a soft, needy whisper. He leans back over you, pressing his head into your shoulder. He can practically feel himself tear apart.

Your arms wrap around him in a secured embrace, feeling the way you claw onto him in anticipation for his own release. He faltered, if only for you.

It pushes him into his own pleasure, a lengthy moan escaping his throat, his body tensing while his hips mercilessly still plow into you, burying your head deeply into the crevice of your neck as he comes inside of you. "Fuck," his hisses as he rides through his orgasm, "I'm so-I- you-"

He's sputtering nonsense, his mind so far gone.

"That's it," you whisper encouragingly, shifting your hips to feel his warmth cradle the inside of you, the heat spreading into you deeply. You milk him for all his worth and when he doesn't have more to give, he slows speed down, his thrusts turning soon shallow.

Kung Lao can feel himself shuddering against you, his body reeling from the pleasure still coursing through his veins, the adrenaline that still pumps through him with every hammering pulse of his heart. He's completely wrecked, utterly spent, but he can't bring himself to move away from you, not just yet.

You are in no rush to escape from him either. You just hold onto him there, your bodies intertwined intimately as you bond in the mutual afterglow. He's still inside of you, entrapping his release inside of you, hot and filling. Your fingers glide over the skin of his mark you marked, a comforting sensation for him, while your others glide themselves through his hair. It's quiet between you two as you share a few silent moments

. You nuzzle your cheek on his head, peppering kisses to the crown of his hair. Your pulse steadies in his comfort and you let out a small, content noise. "So good for me," you praise after a pause, when you trust your voice to speak again.

But apparently his mind was already back because you can feel his ego practically bolstering, his senses flooding back into him. He pulls slightly back, hovering closely above you with a self-satisfied look in his eyes. "Perfect, aren't I? He grins. "I do come from a long line of-"

"You're so unsexy." You push his face away from you.

He cackles, his lips widening honestly. He grabs at your wrist, holding it so you can't push him away. "So what? You love it. Don't deny it, you think I'm great."

You make a noise, shaking your head at his pride but even you can't help the sound of affirmation that leaves you. You caress his cheek and you sigh again, silently, your eyes softening in adoration. "Yeah," you begrudgingly agree. "I do love you."

Oooh, he's never letting you live down those words. He cranes into your touch. That winner smirk of his dissolves into a genuine one, his eyes softening. "You better love me," he answers, tone turning more affectionate. He places a kiss to your palm. "You're stuck with me forever, you know that right?"

"Only if you don't burn the world down before then," you confirm.

"I'm not that bad," he protests but there's cheekiness bordering his voice. "I might destroy a few things. But I'm a perfect angel, really."

You want to scoff at that. This saint just committed several sins with you. You raise yourself up and he pulls himself out of you, humming at the loss of your contact. You feel the mess pool between your legs and you grimace. "If you're such a saint, how about you being so generous and carrying me to the shower?"

Kung Lao isn't really listening to you, passive as he takes satisfaction in watching his come pour out of you instead. But he eventually looks back to you. "Demanding as usual." He shakes his head in mock disapproval. "But," he concedes, lifting you easily into his arms. "I suppose I can indulge you once in awhile."

"My hero," you pride him flatly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

His chuckle runs through you in his chest and he squeezes you as he carries you into the adjourned bathroom with prideful strides. "You really should be more grateful, you know," he teases. He sets you gently down in the shower, ensuring your legs can stand on their own before he releases you.

You don't reply for a second, focusing on stabilizing yourself. "You're staying, right?" You don't voice it, but it's an obvious plea for him to shower with you.

Lao raises an eyebrow at you, clearly saying: 'Of course I'm staying', as if he was offended you even thought differently. He steps inside of the shower after you, closing the distance between you and him again. He smiles down at you and walks you back under the water spicket.

You smile up to him, your hands finding trails over his arms to take. You know you really shouldn't tease him, but you just can't help it… "Wanna invite Tomas, too?"

Bad choice for you. His hand was on the nozzle and upon hearing your words, he stops and looks down on you. Did you seriously just ask him that?

"He has his own." His answer was short.

He just.. can't help it when he feels a bit vindictive, twisting the shower on to rain freezing water down onto you. His expression clearly communicated that that's exactly what you deserved and he holds you there tight as you shriek and try to escape.

He watches the water crusade over you, your body shivering and he doesn't fight the satisfied look on his face.

"Lao!" You shriek, your hair weighing down under the cold divets of water. "You asshole!"

He sighs in exaggerated bliss, obviously enjoying the desired effect it had on you. He holds you tighter to him, his body radiating a warmth that contradicts the cold water pouring down on you. "You know you deserved that."

You shiver, goosebumps rising on your skin. His gaze follows the trail of water running down your body, following the lines of your curves. Your nipples perked, hardened. But when you shiver again, your teeth clattering, he finally finds some mercy and turns the water to warm. He moves himself under the stream of water as well, letting it rain over you both. He sighs at the contact.

You harmlessly glare up at him. "You are such…" You honestly had no good comeback.

"Can't help it." His voice lacked remorse. "You provoked me."

"Pain my ass," you mutter beneath your breath, but you know damn well you partially deserved that.

But hell, if you didn't absolutely adore him...

"You have a nice ass," he adds after a moment.

"Lao, if you don't shut up for at least two minutes.."

[jamethinks]

Chapter 111... let's talk about it.

Firstly, that is not Anya's real mother. That is her birth mother. Biological if you want to get technical. While I don't think anyone is going to turn their backs on Yor as Anya's mother, language is still important. Resist the nuclear-monogamy family propaganda. No hate no shade but this is touching on very triggering territory for me and I am weary of what I will have to suffer through. The batfam fandom has been pissing off as it alright. Wrap it up.

Now for the actual chapter

Died 852 Born in like 1950s/1940s. Welcome back Eren Yeager

Theory: Anya's mother was experimented on during the second war (during WW2 we say a lot of unethical practices and experiments going on so who's to say). At some point she would have gotten pregnant (likely not on purpose) and had Anya. Then she would have broken Anya out or something.

Questions: Can Anya's mom read minds? We know Anya can and that the scientists were interested in this ability but also there does not seem to be any interest in finding her. No easter eggs or discussions. Seems rather odd to just let something like go unless you had something more interesting/valuable in your possession ie Anya's mother.

Alternatively, given the nature of the story it is possible nobody gave a rat's ass until. And by nobody I mean Endo. This could be the intro into unraveling the story behind Anya and finally going into the actual mystery of the story. I guess now that they have decided what that mystery is we will look into it. But it would have been nice to have a few easter eggs but have it your way

There is a way this could work. They just thought Anya was dead. Her mom killed her setting her free like a butterfly and stayed with them so her daughter does not have to go through that torture anymore. Granted she didn't actually kill her but that is what she wanted them to believe hence why they never looked for her.

One of Ashe's powers was the ability to make people see illusions. Within the context of the story they are treated a truthful premonitions. If we assume her mother had these abilities then that would make for a lot of interesting possibility regarding Anya's escape. Would also link her to Bond but who cares.

Farfetched theory: she is a clone and that woman is her mother but also not really get freaky with it idk

The existence of an adult telepath does open up an alternative possibility. In one of my fics, Anya's mother is a Russian spy who would use her telepathic abilities to help the country advance in war and such and Anya was created in hope of giving Ostania access to that ability. I think that may be what happened here as well. Anya's mother was used as a tool by the Ostanian government to help sniff out spies and shit. Given the high rates of espionage and distrust, it does seem likely that they would want a telepath in their bank to advance their own war efforts. This could also explain why Donovan may seem like he can read thoughts. He could use her to read the thought of people he suspects or whatever and report back to him. It's a farfetched theory but anything to prove he can't read minds.

Lastly, it seems Melinda's delusions are affecting Twilight a bit. The way he reacted to Yor seemingly reading Anya's mind is interesting. Even though he may not necessarily believe Melinda it does seem like it made him debate his understanding of reality. He's a skeptical man by nature so I think he might just become more observant of the people around him. As if he himself is debating the existence of telepaths and mind readers. This not only puts Anya in awkward position but also Yor. Even if he doesn't devolve into a paranoid man convinced that everyone can read his minds, it will make him question her more and possible bring those early day suspicions of who Yor truly is.

Besides he's also getting close and attached to them. It won't surpise me if in defense he starts making up insane scenarios and explanations to forcibly detach himself from them. One trait he has always shared with Donovan is paranoia and distrust of others. Of course we have seen what that distrust can do to you.

(Side note: Yor immediately clocking his confusion and clarifying for him is so cute. Like she knows her paranoid little man. Granted, it will come to bite her in the ass if he starts to spiral out of control)

[lookingforlia]

Tsukishima x reader

Getting walked on in

Minors DNI

Semi smut , we don't get to the actual act.

Your checks burn in a bright shade of red while he sits you in his lap hands on your hips grinding you on himself . Your face twists in pleasure . A bit ago you guys were arguing about who's got more restraint , and here you are on your boyfriend's lap while his eyes pierce through yours the whole time making you strip of every piece of sanity you had left.

"stop looking at me like that. "

"like what baby ?" He chuckles from his chest .

"like I'm powerless over you. "

His lips curve up into a grin that only sends more heat to your core .

"But you know you're powerless over me. "

He moves one hand from your waist to run circles on your clothed clit . And almost involuntarily it pulls out a moan from your throat.

You can feel his eyes darkening on you. And you could never ignore the twitch if his hardening cock under you.

" Such a good girl for me. " He breathes out. You look back at his eyes finding them still searching for yours. Loosing your last bit of self retrain you pull your shirt off . And he looks at you , almost in predatory manner. But to your expectations he doesn't move. His hand .

"you need to tell me what you want princess . I'm not doing it if you don't say it. " He says quickening his pace on your clothed clit. You were sure he could feel your juices running down his pretty fingers at this point. And it made you moan again in frustration. You knew you wanted more . He knew that you knew . And suddenly you could slowly feel your self restraint slipping away from your mind .

The door opening suddenly breaks the tension between you two.

"tsukki , I was wondering you could tell me which headphone would be -"

Yamaguchbi freezes realizing what he walked into.

And your boyfriend's composure is suddenly gone now with his face flushed in all shades of red . Pretty sure he was debating if to jump off his window at an instant or kill his friend or both in order. Attempting to cover his face with one of his hands and shielding you with the other one , he looks up at him .

"get the fuck out Yamaguchi " he yells out in embarrassment. Yamaguchi didn't stand there for the yelling to come following him. He closed the door in absolute panic as fast as he could .

You could hear sounds of laughter outside from Tanaka and Nishinoya already laughing at the incident knowing very well the reason of Yamaguchi's sudden panic .

You and tsukishima knew they're gonna tease you about this for the rest of your lives.

((An: omw to touch some grass cause this was the first smut I wrote. Sorry if it's bad 😭😭))

[lovemyromance]

SJM doesn't write her men as fuckbois, end of argument. This is romantasy, this is not real life situationships.

She writes her men as prideful beings, unwilling to kneel for anyone but their woman.

She writes her men as desperate for their female counterparts, willing to wait centuries to even earn a second glance.

So this concept of "Oh, Azriel & Elain don't actually want each other, they're just trying to blow off steam." Is ridiculous.

Regardless of their past, their background, the second they meet their love interest they fall in line and are head over heels for that ONE woman. It's not finicky love. It didn't just pass over the course of 2 pages.

SJM empowers the women more and gives them previous love interests. Feyre had Tamlin & Isaac Hale. Nesta had half of the seedy bar crowd in Velaris (no shade, go off city girl) & Tomas Mandray. Elain had Graysen.

You know what their past flings didn't get?

A POV.

We never got a POV from Tamlin, despite him being a main character and love interest in ACOTAR. We didn't get a POV from Tomas or random dude in Nesta's apartment. We didn't get a POV from Graysen.

You know which MMCs did get a POV?

Rhysand.

Cassian.

Azriel.

That in itself should be enough evidence that whatever happening between Elriel isn't just a fling, as the antis try to make it out to be.

Rhysand got a POV when he was endgame with Feyre. Cassian got a POV before he was endgame with Nesta. Now Azriel gets a POV, and there's only one sister left....

Why would SJM give Azriel a whole POV otherwise? Why not just tell it from Elain's POV?

And no it's not because that would reveal how much she apparently secretly loves Lucien while she's ready to drop her panties for Shadow Boy

That bonus chapter in ACOSF was not just SJM being in a silly goofy mood and deciding to write fuckboy Az as a new part of the story.

Also - all these people clamoring "wELL hAvE yOu rEaD tHe aZrIeL bOnUs cHaPtER?" They're just trynna use each other - Have YOU read the bonus chapter?

What part of that longing and tension and pining gave you lust and incel behavior? This man feels so undeserving of her, he thinks even touching her is to taint her goodness.

That shit poetic af.

He's out here being Azriel Allen Poe, describing her hair like dawn and begging on his knees to taste her and y'all are out here thinking "nah, they're just a fling."

Do you spout poetry and are tortured every waking moment with the love you hold for your situationship? If so - I don't think they're a situationship anymore bestie.

And Elain also wanted his hands on her. The antis trying to spin "oh she was indifferent to it, she could have been fine with or without him" is so ridiculous because literally she says yes. OFFER AND PERMISSION. She is aroused when he touches her NECK. Like come on, how down bad do you have to be for someone to get turned on when they touch your NECK. And, on top of that, she feels hurt when Azriel says this is a mistake.

Would someone only trynna get laid feel hurt over that? Would they avoid the other person after if they just wanted to blow off steam? No. She wanted Azriel just as badly. And anyone who tries to say otherwise, is just flat out not reading the words on the page.

When will Eluciens & Gwynriels quit trying to cheapen what is canon in order to make their ships work? SJM doesn't write fuckboi men. That's not up for debate.

And the fact that they'd rather have Az be using Elain (or I vice versa) for sex than actually hold feelings for her says a lot.

[cafeinthemoon]

King - Chapter V

Chapter 5

Title The Particle of the Sun

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: A not so subtle (and very problematic) threat from Poseidon involving pregnancy

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: Finally a new chapter!! Yay! I wanted this chapter to be as long as the previous ones, but I thought I've already reunited enough information in these less than 3k words (hope you don't mind). About the story of the Particle: a curious fact about Poseidon that I discovered recently was that he was deity responsible for the Delphic Oracle alongside Gaia before Apollo was even born. I couldn't find many details about this, but my headcanon is that Poseidon still has the gift of clairvoyance, or extended vision, as said by himself here, and this will show in crucial moments of this story. I also found a way to explain the existence of days and nights under the sea and I'm very proud of my work in this :)

When you opened your eyes, you noticed a slight change in the shade of the curtains: the abyssal black was replaced by a softer form of blue, the same blue of the sea’s surface on a sunny day. There was absolute silence in the canopy’s interior, which only changed when you decided to sit on the bed.

It was strange that you were left to sleep there: you thought you would be sent back to the lodge after the wedding’s consummation, but you were kept in your husband’s chambers for that entire night. You were debating the reason for this when you noticed a tall shadow approaching the canopy’s entry, and a hand showed up between the fabric to open it.

When the curtains were separated, the morning light shone into the space, exposing the messed sheets and the tiny human cradled among them to the eyes of the Lord of the Seas, who kept observing you with a mixture of curiosity and disapproval, as if finding hard to believe that you needed such a long period of sleep.

Well, you had no idea of how long you’ve been there, but you found that absurd.

Does this man know nothing about the human nature? If he wanted me to wake up earlier, he could’ve just called me.

It was when you noticed he was dressed in a formal, bluish attire... and realized it was the first time you saw him properly dressed. That made you look at yourself and pull the sheets up to cover your torso.

Poseidon frowned at this attitude.

– Why are you doing this? There is no need for you to cover up now. I have already seen everything I had to see.

Your reply came in an impulse.

– I’m cold.

He stared at you for a moment, then pointed at the empty space beside him.

– Here.

You tried to leave the bed using the sheets to cover yourself but, once you were under his reach, he pulled them away, throwing them back on the bed and closing the curtains. You crossed your arms before your chest: staying undressed and disheveled in front of a god under the daylight and when he himself was wearing full clothes provoked a new, incomparable embarrassment in you.

– Come with me – he spoke it like an order and, before you could do anything, he took you in his arms.

Unlike you told him, you weren’t really cold, but the absence of the sheets caused you shivers that only ceased when you were on his lap, and for a moment you allowed yourself to relax, leaning your head on his chest. It was curious that, despite the sensation of complete unfamiliarity that surrounded every aspect of your relationship with that man, you were still able to find good things in them, such as this sort of safeness in his grip and the pleasure you experienced in his touch. If this was thanks to some spell or if you were just susceptible, you were yet to find out.

That time, you were carried to a dressing area: your husband stopped with you in the middle of a room with an infinity of clothes, shoes and other female accessories, ready to be worn; on a corner, there was a screen with hand painted illustrations of coral reefs and other marine concepts, similar to the one you had on your lodge and, beside it, an open door that led to a bathroom.

Poseidon put you down and turned to a rack at his left, taking a dress with him and giving it to you.

– Put it on and go wash your face – he instructed – I will be waiting here.

What you heard instead of this was Do not let me waiting.

You did as he said, entering behind the screen to put the dress despite what he said when you cover yourself up with the sheets, then cleaned your face and fixed your hair. When you went back to him, he held your shoulders and made you turn around; you didn’t need to ask what he was doing, for soon you noticed his fingers brushing your hair. After this, he took a shawl and wrapped it around you, then took your hair out of it. You didn’t think he believed when you said you were cold, but the message behind the gesture was clear: as much as he expected you to take his words seriously, he was able to do the same for his wives, so that you had all the reasons to pay attention to the things you said to him.

Poseidon brought his hands to your shoulders again, making you turn back to him.

– Still cold?

You made a negative sign with your head.

– No, my Lord.

– Good.

You thought he was going to take you out of that room, and maybe that was his intention, but he gave up on it when he touched your ears, making you flinch.

– They are a bit swollen. What happened?

– It’s probably because I slept upon them, my Lord...

You were going to say that they would stop aching soon, but he went to a vanity and brought a tiny pot of salve with him before you could open your mouth. Stopping in front of you, he took a bit of the product and spread it between his fingers, passing them on your ears, massaging around the earrings.

– It will soothe the ache – your husband went to put the salve back on its previous place.

You nodded.

– Thank you, Poseidon-sama.

His response was a sigh.

– You are so delicate it is impressive that nothing more than this happened.

That time, the impatience you felt bubbling inside you was too much, and you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

– My fragility seems to be an issue for you, my Lord. I’d like to understand the reason I was brought here, if possible.

For a moment, you congratulated yourself for finally speaking out, but as soon as Poseidon laid his eyes on you, you sensed your courage diminishing in an impressive speed: you looked away, your fingers griping on the shawl’s fabric with nervousness; you felt his hand surrounding your jawline, his thumb caressing the corner of your mouth.

– It is just something I had to do, dragonet. For my own sake. It is nothing you should be concerned about.

***

You had your breakfast with your husband on a small table placed at the chambers’ balcony, as large as a common, human house, with a privileged view of the white beaches through which you’ve passed to enter the castle and the furious waters that surrounded them, now showing deep, mutable shades of green under the light.

It was something that has been intriguing you since you arrived, but you haven’t had the chance to bring it out in your conversations with Alyssa: when Poseidon brought you to the balcony – in his arms – and you were exposed to that light, the intensity and the warmth of it on your skin were enough to make you think that, if you didn’t know you were under the sea, you could be easily convinced that it was the true sun.

You were sitting on a white chair while your husband took the place before you, having a beautiful breakfast prepared for two, with fruits, tea and bread, everything with excellent aspect just like the food that was offered to you at the lodge. You weren’t sure if you should start eating now or wait for him to do it, but Poseidon didn’t seem inclined in this sense. At the same time, your hesitation was noticed and questioned by him.

– I’m not hungry, my Lord.

– At least take some tea – he replied – It will help you to stay warm.

You obeyed, filling a tiny cup with the liquid in silence. A conversation then took place.

– Are you still cold?

– No, my Lord.

– You don’t seem tired now. Did you sleep well?

– Yes, my Lord. Thank you for asking.

He nodded in approval, then suddenly changed the subject.

– You seem curious about the illumination system of this kingdom. Do you think it resembles the sunlight?

Your eyes widened at this.

Such sharp eyes, those ones.

– Yes, Poseidon-sama. It’s something I’ve been observing since I arrived.

– It is because you are indeed seeing the sunlight – he continued, answering the mystery – This is a story I do not mind telling you. Long time ago, I was the responsible for the Delphic Oracle before Apollo. All my houses were placed upon the waters by that time, but I was planning to bring all of them into one, on the seabed. I offered my connection with the Oracle to him and demanded a particle of the Sun in return, just enough to make life possible for non sea creatures in the depths of the ocean. Apollo accepted the deal and ordered the Particle to behave as if it was still in the skies, and this kingdom have been experiencing days and nights since then.

Poseidon told that story while observing the surroundings, as if talking to himself; he spoke as if all of that happened yesterday, and you were hearing in stunned silence. As someone who wasn’t raised to praise the gods, you knew nothing beyond their names, and cared little about them and their acts; that was entirely new for you. But if there was something you were quick to realize when you met them, specially the one who married you, was that they never did anything without a reason, or without expecting something in return, so that the story of the Oracle made total sense to you. You weren’t sure why Poseidon was telling you something that probably happened in a time when none of your ancestors existed, but it was intriguing that a proud being like him would give up on such an important treasure as an Oracle in favor of another deity, no matter what he would receive in exchange for it.

Since he didn’t oppose to it, you questioned him about it.

– Forgive my ignorance in these subjects, my Lord, but is hard to believe that such exchange really happened.

Contrary to what you expected, your doubts didn’t provoke the slightest sign of irritation in your husband: instead, he held a smirk on his lips, observing you with a sort of pity for the said ignorance.

– You really know nothing about gods, don’t you, dragonet? – and, without waiting for a response, – When I passed the Oracle’s management to Apollo, I was not sacrificing a belonging. Instead, I was delegating a responsibility to a younger god, in a way that his work would increase and mine would diminish. I no longer own the Oracle, but I still have the ability of extending my vision; besides, Proteus, who is a prophet himself, still works for me. On the other hand, Apollo has gained experience over the ages, and with experience came power. The Particle of the Sun that he gave to me will be forever a sign of his gratitude, since I was the one who made him the offer.

Gratitude? Was he trying to teach you a lesson about this? But why?

You chose your words carefully.

– I understand you have a reason to tell me all of this, my Lord. But I fail at perceiving it.

Poseidon opened a genuine smile of contentment, and that was the most unsettling moment you had with him since the wedding: though you were now dressed, you were still feeling exposed, too close to him to try and escape, whether with your words or your feet. You observed his expression and realized it was the first time you were seeing the natural light touching your husband’s figure, a vision that enchanted and scared you at the same time: the rosy shade on his cheeks and lips, the golden shine of his hair, the blue of his eyes glowing between those long, white lashes, all of this on an impossibly proud, young face, that has been like this since the oldest past and would stay the same in the furthest of futures. To you, it was inconceivable that someone could be so beautiful yet so menacing.

But not only this was possible through his looks, but also through his words, given what he said to you next.

– Good girl, always saying the right things. But I would like to know if you are just as grateful. So, tell me: have you already thought of how you are going to thank me for granting you my favor last night?

Since you took too long to understand what he was talking about, Poseidon didn’t mind explaining.

– I did you the favor of not making you bear a child right in your first night as my wife, though I still think it is a strange thing to ask, not to say foolish. This is what I want to know: what will you do for me in return?

You swallowed. In fact, your husband’s agreement with such an uncommon request came too quickly even for you, who didn’t know him so well. Of course such generosity wouldn’t come for free.

You opened your mouth in an impulse, but held your tongue just in time, granting yourself a moment to think of a wise answer.

– I... What do you need me to do, my Lord?

Poseidon still had the same content smile on his lips, to which you felt some relief.

He’s still having fun with this. And, as long as he stays like this, I’ll be safe.

– That you are very clever, I already know, and your talent with words might keep me entertained for quite some time. It would be a waste if you would just stay with the common duties of a secondary wife, so I have a task for you: since you will not use your time to bear and raise any child until the next year, you will have entire days to go to my children’s training area and observe each of them. You will figure out each one’s most efficient technique and find weaknesses in them. Once you do it, you will develop a solution for that. Given you are a smart girl, I believe it is something up to you.

You had your hands on your lap, holding each other with all the strength they had to avoid trembling, but you had no guarantee that the same nervousness didn’t raise to your face. Yes, you wouldn’t become a mother, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t have any contact with your husband’s children – that was the trap he has been preparing for you. And, by asking him what he needed you to do for him instead of thinking of something to offer, you easily fell into it.

I tried to examine the territory before making my offer, just like my father told me. But I should have known that what usually works with humans would be just useless while negotiating with a god. How stupid of me.

– What you will do to accomplish this is also up to you – he continued – Though I must warn you about the deadline: you will be given one year for this, nothing more. The counting will start tomorrow, by the morning, and will end in the next year, by a morning as well. By the end of this period, you will have to show me the results of your work. I will evaluate it and, if it is satisfying, your current condition, that is, of not bearing any children, will remain. However, if you show to be unable to fulfill this task…

Your heart ached, as if held tight by cold fingers, fearing what would follow those words. The table’s size was such that it allowed you to reach each other by touch, and that was precisely what your husband did: he stretched his arm over it to touch your face, making you startle despite the warmth of his skin. He brushed your hair behind your ear and you breathed deep, not daring move away.

– I still have to think of how things will be for you, dragonet – his voice was now a whisper; you looked at him and noticed an increase in his cheeks’ blush – But I cannot help thinking that you would look pretty with a rounded, swollen belly under your dress.

There was no need for explanations this time.

This offer, that sounded more like a threat, was absurd – not to say terrifying. But it was not the end for you: it was the beginning of a year full of work and discoveries, just like the ones that preceded it. And if you’ve already gone so far – entering that domain and staying alive, making a human friend where you thought you’d never see another human beyond yourself and managing to have your offer accepted by the Tyrant of the Seas – thinking of giving up didn’t make sense now.

I’m already in the bottom of the sea… What should I fear now?

You did your best to stand Poseidon’s gaze. He still had his hand close to you: you put your own upon it and turned your lips to his palm, giving it a soft, docile kiss.

– I will not disappoint you, Poseidon-sama.

And I will not disappoint myself either.

Chapter 6

[ggswaywardgifrepository]

LMFAO the last thing this blog needs is another unpopular opinion. (I feel like I peripherally burned bridges with people in one of my fandoms for debating ship shit when I should have just ignored it but whatever.)

But I seriously just saw a fic with an author's note at the end going, 'you can tip me' lmfao are you serious???? For a fanfic??? And one posted on THE fanfic site that works its ass off to make sure everything is on the up and up????

I guess the legality hovers around it being a tip, which is only being given after a work has been posted, rather than as a fee for the posting of said work. (Although, apparently there are fanfic authors who solicit donations for advanced access to content and withhold chapters if $ goals aren't met?)

I don't care how good you are or how much time you put into your fanfic, it's still not your IP. If you're not writing fanfic for connection or your own enjoyment, you're doing it wrong. Write original work if you want that cheese, and honestly, as someone who does, good fucking luck.

It's just such a slippery slope and super uncomfortable to me.

It's a shame, too, because the person whose story I saw this on has a very well written WIP that I was waiting for the last chapter on. But nope. Not touching their writing ever again.

I don't even want money from people for my original shit. Jesus H. I might if it was good, but I digress.

And the weirdest thing to me is that reddit, even here--wherever there has been discussion about it--the majority seem to be pro tipping a fanfic author?

Does it suck that fanart can be monetized but fanfic can't? Absolutely.

But don't fuck it up for everyone else. If you wanna be compensated for your fanfic, get your 50 Shades on and adapt it into an original work.

Just a little edit: I haven’t changed the wording on anything above because I’m allowed to have spicy takes anywhere online, but esp here in my little corner of the tumblrverse. I will never take this opinion on the road but I’m allowed to have it here and to share it as tactfully (or not) as I please.

However, I know my tone irritated someone who saw this previously. But they were super professional and the pinnacle of online bravery with their multiple anonymous visits to my ask box…

I DO wish fanfic authors didn’t face the same stigma as other fan creators but it is what it is.

I WOULD be pleased if the culture safely shifted toward compensating all fan creators equally and without judgment or worry of widespread repercussions.

I DON’T think it’s ever going to be that way, though. And as someone who remembers the Anne Rice lawsuits (over the very existence of fanfiction featuring her characters, which resulted in entire websites going down and years of “I don’t own these characters and I’m not making any money from this so please don’t sue me 😭” disclaimers) I have real concerns over tipping for a fanfic sparking a similar reaction and setting us all back.

Do whatever you want, just don’t break TOS on sites you use to do it.

And don’t come fight me in my little virtual house here. I am a lovely visitor to others’ spaces online. But I am a terrible host if you’re a rude guest in mine.

Happy fanfic writing, especially if, like me, you do it solely for the joy of writing and to connect with others.

[mellodragneel]

JL with Red huntress and Shade prompt

(First time posting something, i think this count as a prompt, if someone wants to write about this, please do)

Imagine Valery before meeting Danni, so she still hates Phantom, but recently a ghost escaped Amity (Phantom was struggling to manage his live at that point, and after another fight with her and his parents, and the GIW... F, he decides to quit "and go back to the ghost zone" in reality he is coming back to live as just Danny), so she pursues the ghost to some superheroe's city, and the ghost causes chaos, you know, and the hero of that place can't touch the ghost.

And then Red Huntress appears and save the day (don't know if she eliminated the ghost, or the ghost escaped).

After that the JL tries to recruit her due to being able to fight "this new threat" and get some counseling regarding ghosts (JLD was overworked with other things, so they didn't know about all this).

She has to bear with her multiple jobs and deal with ghosts alone now that Phantom retired, so she declines the offer, but if the problem is with ghosts she will deal with that.

Time passes and Batman is irked that he doesn't know her identity yet due to the voice modulator in the whole body technological suit, and recently there has been reports that Amanda Waller is investigating multiple destroyed buildings from an organization she is secretly in charge.

The only hint they had regarding this situation, is that they were research oriented, and the culprit has blue eyes, wore a black ninja suit with silver details and has an incredible ability to disappear.

Danny was annoyed at Valery and the JL, and knowing that more ghosts were getting captured by the government, decided to become a hero, but not like Phantom, in order to keep suspicions and problems from the ghosts to the minimun, he decided to go by Shade, an incredible agile human with a misteryous past and that, for some reason he sides with ghosts, but sometimes during alien invasions or robot attacks, he also helps with something like a magic glowing sword, so the JL doesn't know what to think of him.

Some day, the JL decides to recruit him, (or just talk), and Red Huntress gets in a debate with Shade while the others are observing on the sidelines and rethinking a little what they know about ghosts.

After that fallout, the JL starts to make a more throught investigation and suddenly Shazam is the first to come back from whatever task was ocuping the JLD and he is like: remember that i mention that i was chosen by a wizard to be the champion of magic?

Some people: Aha... yes...

Others: wtf?

Shazam: well, he died after chosing me, but his ghost is still teaching me... so... he seems pretty sentient, and he is helping me in order to protect people...

Red Huntress: So, what?!? He could be trying to manipulate you in to thinking that until he deems right to reveal his true colors, it wouldn't be the first time a ghost has wanted to make people believe that it is a protector while causing damage to those around!.

Shade: *inhale... exhale* He was trying his best to protect the town even if everyone blame him for things that weren't under his control!

And most of the colateral damage that people fault him for, was due to other ghosts or ghost hunters attacking him, all he wanted was to keep everyone safe!!!

Even if that lead him to being shooted and criticized by almost everyone until the day he snapped and decided to retire!!

Flash to someone else (probably green lantern): Who are they talking about?

Green lantern: no idea.

And from there i don't know what to write, so i leave it to the imagination of whoever wants to continue or change parts of this.

Sorry for any grammatical errors i didn't catch, this is my second language 💗

Also, maybe the story could be like different povs and all that 💗

I didn't know what to put as a title, so that's the only thing that came to my mind at the moment XD

[ministerlo]

CYOA Transformation (II)

Check out here for Part 1

John decided that he didn't want to lose all of his money on the first day he was in LA, so, instead he chose to take a stroll on the beach. Looking around at the absolute mess of his room, with all the unpacked boxes, John just sighed and decided to deal with it when he got back, John caught a picture of his reflection in the mirror, his hazel eyes scanned his body, he was pretty unassuming and average, if not having a little pudge here and there, looking at his body, John was grateful that he didn't bring any swimwear, as if he did, he would be compelled to wear it, after all, who went to the beach just to stroll around?

Picking up his keys John strolled down the bustling streets of LA, John looked around, seeing the colourful houses and the proud confident men, John felt a little insecure, he had tried to workout but it somehow never worked out, he sighed, as he continued to trudge his way to the beach.

Finally getting to the beach he looked around, surrounding him were a bunch of jocks and surfer bros, he felt out of place, sure he could just ignore them, but they infested every single corner of the beach, there was no escaping them.

However while John was debating to leave or not, someone had a very different idea of where John should be, or should become.

John continued to look around, before being shocked when he felt someone place their hands on his shoulder, turning his head around so fast that you would have thought he cracked it, facing him was what you would expect from a surfer bro, sun kissed skin, a mop of dirty blond curly hair, strong but not bulky muscles, and a pair of sunglasses on his face.

"Hey, you new here, never seen your pretty face around here." flustered, John stumbled back, spluttering, laughing at John's display the man raised his hands in a placating manner " woah, chill out dude, didn't mean to scare ya like that, my name's Horus, what's yours."

Shocked that this surfer/gymbro would want to talk to him John just shyly replied with his name, before he could say anything more however he was suddenly dragged by Horus to "get his grumpy ass to get some sun light", with John spluttering all along the way.

"Dude, what are you doing we just met." John said incredulously when he was finally let go, however instead of getting a response he just got a grin instead, John was furious, how could this random stranger just drag him around the beach, but when he looked at Horus's eyes that was his last mistake.

"Aww, come on, don't act like that little bro, just wanted you to get comfortable is all, after all, we can't have a stuffy guy like you at the beach ruining the vibe." he smirked, finally getting rid of his sunglasses revealing his hypnotic blue eyes. "Now just look at my eyes now, good boy."

John tried his best to avoid the eye contact of Horus, but he was trapped, lost in the hypnotic eyes of Horus, as he fell deeper into oblivion.

Seeing the almost blank stare of John, Horus smirked, "such a good boy, now put on these swim boxers for me won't you." John just nodded mindlessly, taking the offered swim trunks before promptly stripping and putting them on, and as he was putting the trunks on he felt a shiver down his spine as Horus clasped a shark tooth necklace around his neck.

"Good boy, now won't you follow me." Horus chuckled, as he walked to a more secluded place, not waiting for an answer, knowing that I would follow and agree to anything he said in this state.

As he finally settle down under the tree shade, Horus smirked, seeing the mindless expression on John, as he quickly invaded his mouth with a passionate kiss, feeling John slowly start to melt into it.

John mind was invaded by the pleasure that he was feeling from Horus's ministrations, and teasing, he could feel himself slowly falling, feeling the pleasure as Horus touched his cock, mind going absolutely blank.

Horus grinned, seeing the necklace glow as John's muscles started to expand and grow, fat draining away, making the perfect body for surfing and fucking, as he backed away for just a second he saw the wet patch of pre cum on swim trunks. he leaned in and whispered in John's ear "such a good horny boy for me, just feel all those pesky thoughts and irrelevant memories turn into cum and just flow into your dick, feel how much pleasure that gives you." and indeed John could feel the memories slowly draining as Horus rubbed his cock through his swim trunks, basic equations turning into basic ways to suck cock.

Seeing the glazed over look that John had replacing the sharp look Horus knew that his trance was working, now moving on to the next step, he invaded John's mouth again, replacing the gaps with new memories of being a surfer himbo, of meeting Horus and falling for him, becoming Horus's boyfriend and lover.

As all the memories set in there was just one thing to do to make it permanent "Cum for me babe." Horus whispered and with that John came, his former identity leaving his body with his cum, now no longer John but Apollo, Horus's dumb horny boyfriend.

"Fuck babe, your so good at this." Apollo chuckled, a dumb grin plastered on his face, but, he was caught surprised as he was pushed into the sand "Oh you though we were done, I still haven't been satisfied." Horus replied cheekily before promptly sticking his 8 inch dick into Apollo's welcoming heat, as Apollo's dick immediately turned rock hard as they spent the rest of the afternoon fucking.

The Next Day

As sweat and sea water dripped off of their bodies, Horus moaned in pleasure as he encouraged Apollo to continue his dick, "Fuck you're mouth is amazing babe. I'm going to cum." As Apollo's mouth was flooded with Horus's semen he exploded as well, just from the pleasure of serving him they both slumped in exhaustion from the day of fucking and riding the waves.

While Horus fell asleep, it took a bit longer for Apollo, as he gazed into the open sea, seeing a glistening tail on a man, jumping in and out of the water. On his left however there he saw the jungles, and in the distance, in front of a cavern, he saw a what seemed like a flick of a serpentine tail, deciding that he would deal with it later when he went out exploring with his boyfriend he promptly fell asleep, cuddled in his boyfriend's arms.

[laneynoir]

Can you do “the hesitation for any physical contact” with literally any LOTR/TH character? :D

It is 4:11 am and thia should NOT have taken this long.

My first attempt a a 4+1 fic.

4 times you dodge away, and one time you don't.

Èomer/You

Word count: 2803

1.

The first time he noticed was the Eve of your mother's wake.

As was tradition, members of the Royal family would attend the in the circumstance of a noble's death. You sit int the corner of the room, staring dazed at the covered body on the bed.

Èomer quietly makes his way over, though you don't raise your eyes you speak, the words suprising him.

"I didn't like her all that much."

He is jolted by your tone, the same as one might use when discussing an ill fitting horse shoe, or a dry season that creates such agitating dust in a mane.

You glance to him with an odd smile. "I suppose that is a dreadful thing to say, my prince. But really, she was always such a stickler for etequite and how a 'proper lady' should act that I think I'm owed it."

You take a gulp of your whiskey, the burning feeling not registering in your facial expression, a feat that causes a half smile to quirk at Èomer's mouth. "You are allowed honesty, I think, My lady."

You shake your head, "My mother's died, yet still she's pushing me. Lovely isn't it? I'll finally have to be the Lady of the court she allways wanted me to." You let out a small breath of laughter. "Wouldn't she be appalled if she saw me, tipsy and chatting with the prince as if i were a pig farmer haggling over a price..."

You sit up straight and stare at the bed again, so suddenly that Èomer startles. "Yet somehow I think I will miss her,she was all I had left." Another sip passes you lips -lips that Èomer really shouldn't be thinking about with such detale as he is- and you sigh. "They all leave."

Èomer fears for the faraway look in your eye, and seeks to comfort you. "I know I am not so great with words as prehaps my cousin, the crown prince is, but I do remeber the dispare I felt when I was told of my mother's death. And though our circumstances are not the same, and I would not dare assume to know your thoughts, I would have you know this,"

He places a hand comfortingly on your shoulder, but you jerk back with an almost terrified expression.

"Forgive me Lady Y/n, I meant not-"

You shake your head furiously. "No, no my prince. You offer me no insult." You give another halfhearted smile. "I just... I've never liked being touched."

His expression is doubtful, but he gives an nod of agreement regardless.

Before he can say aught else, a paige whispers that the king is looking for him and he departs. Hearing you mutter to yourself as he leaves.

"They always leave."

2.

The second came not for a while, indeed it was not until two years later.

On this day he watches as you are locked in a mock-fight with Èowyn, though with the ferocity of of the strikes it hardly has more fight than mock.

Still he can tell that you are lightening your blows, cautious of Èowyn's recent illnesse. Your opponent is disarmed, and you send her for a rest. Her fatigue must indeed have been great, Èomer realizes, for she departs without (much) hesitation.

The small crowd begins to disperce, befire you call to the remaining training Rohiram for another match.

None seam elated at the prospect, though one calls out a "I'll show you my sword, just name the time."

This of course gains a hearty laugh from his friends, and, to Èomer's shock, a smile from you. Though is does have a-

"I do belive it is more or a dagger, and would shatter dear Êliott."

-malicouse look. His thoughts finish, as the smirk on his face grows, whilst the red shade of the man increases.

Before the debate can escalate, Èomer steps forward. "I will spar with you, Lady Y/n."

The sharp nod is all he needs to begin shedding the outer wearof his cloth, leaving himself in a (rather thin) tunic. One of Êlott's friends gives an apriciative whistle, and Èomer hopes he isn't imagining the flustered manner, and aversion of eyes from yourself.

Taking the ready stance the two of you make eye contact, just before you begin weaving patterns through the air with your swords. You vaguely take note of the numbers being called around you, bets to be won or lost, all depending on the outcome of two people... A power play that has you grinning.

Èomer twists his swords arm, causing your grip to loosen slightly. The scowl you send him only causing a smile to grace his distractingly handsome- wait no.

No no no.

That is not the direction you thoughts need to go.

Although he is one of the most sought after man in Rohan, and the gosip around the pubs could fill three rowdy drinking songs.

A loud yell comes from the, now much larger, circle of people, and you jerk at the close proximity, giving Èomer the chance to semd you sword to the ground. On instinct, you reach for the weapon while it is still in the air, successfuly catching it, but sending yourself to the ground.

Imeadiatly Èomer offers you a hand up, and as there are far to many people watching to deny the prince, you accept; but jerk back as soon as you stand.

Offering Èomer a bow, you gather your gear and exit the courtyard, leaving a befuddled blond in your wake, staring after you with an expression later to be described with some rather unsavoury words.

3.

He watches from the corner of his eye, as he always does, as you take another swig of your drink at the bar.

A group of the Rohiram had decided to stick around the pub in the closest town during patrol, and as his sense of honour dictated, he stayed with them. All around the crowded room people were being spun around by their partners. 

Except for you, your rarely danced, and as far as Èomer has seen, never accepted such wanton attention as what the man leaning altogether to close to you is obviously offering.

Still Èomer waits a few minutes, knowing all to well from a preper veiw of a particular captain (the poor man never did have children...) how well you can handle the situation.

Yet he can tell that you are tired and wish bot to make a scene, so swiftly navigating the dance floor he arives at you side amd places a comforting, and slightly territorial, hand on your back.

You stiffen, before realizing who he is and his purpose. The moment you relax into his touch is one Èomer drinks up in the manner of a hard pressed horse after water, all the while glaring at the audacious man in front of him.

Said man's face travels through multiple expression before landing on a smirk. "Oh forgive me lord, I did not realize that this pretty lady had a man to look after her. If I may, and no offense meant, you might want to stick closer to your lass." He rakes another glance over you that unnerves you so that you push into Eomer's half embrace. "Though I've a cold bed that could use some warming if you'd care..."

"I do not share. Come, let us walk y/n." The ice in the tone of your prince shocks you, but still you nod and allow Èomer to lead to from the tavern, after turning a corner he releases you and steps to the distamce you usually keep him at.

The lack of his comfort sends a pang through your body, a pang that you shouldn't have. Upset by this your frown, yet say to him, "I can take care of myself. My Prince." The last bit is tagged on, almost separately.

The spice in your voice doesnt seem to bother him, for he just smiles as usual, a strange fondness in his eye. "I know, I do remember captain Hork."

You chuckle at the mention. "Yes, i supose I made rather a spectacle with that one. I usually try to be more dis-" having begun walking, you freez again, having not meant to add on the latter part of your sentance.

Èomer also freezes, his face dark he turns to you. "Usually? How often are you..." Suddenly his face pales. "In the name of- have you been-? Is that why you shy from touch constantly? Tell me who-"

Eye wide you shake your head. "No! No, my prince. It has never gotten so far as that."

He eyes you doubfully, worry so evident that it sends a pang of guilt through you. "I swear Èomer."

The sound of his name on your lips snaps him away. "You've never called my by my name before."

Your cheeks flush and you shift from one foot to the other. "I apologize,"

"No no," he is quick to interrupt. "I am relieved that you have done so."

His smile is contagious, so that it would take a much colder hearted woman that yourself not to mirror the expression.

You chat amicably while walking, and when you reach the outskirts of town Èomer pauses, taking in view of the stars, while you watch the wind softly lift his golden hair. He breaks the silence at last by saying, "Will you tell me why you do not wish to be touched?" His gaze still is locked on the horseshoe constellation, shining its good luck as always.

You are quiet before answering. "I don't think so."

He nods and meets your gaze. "I figured. Do you wish to return?"

You shake your head, "No the air here is nice, and the view is beautiful."

He nods in agreement. "The most lovely I've 'ere seen."

Neither of you look away from the other.

4.

It was suposed to be a regular patrol of the southern borders. Rumors of a small band of orcs had travled to the king, you, having spent far to much time in Edoras, voulentiered to assist.

You have been missinformed and woefully under prepaired for the ambush that awaites you.

The orces are all around you before anyone can react, much less run for the nearest village, which lies a good hours ride away.

The orcs are to close, and doing more harm thab can be returned by horseback. So, reluctantly, Èomer orders for the comapy to dismount. Continuing on foot, you find yourself back to back with Èomer, fighting savagely. You decapitate the large orc, and notice the scroll sticking out of his vest. You shilove it into your own as quickly as you can, and spin around to see an orc aiming its bow, at Èomer.

With a cry you leap in front of the projectile, feeling a pain in your stomach imeadiatly after.

Èyou stare down at the weapon, which has lodged itself in your person and focouse on not falling over.

You hear a strangled cry, later to be heard again on the Pelennor Fields, when Èomer, for that was who cried out, would find the supposed corpse of his sister.

In the thick battle though he cannot run to you, instead his eyes with a vengeful fire that Sauron can only dream about, and with berserk rage the rest of the orcs are soon demolished or running for their lives.

One man has died, and your wound is the worst of those left, so Èomer barke out orders the the others, putting four in charge of retrieving the horses, and three for the dead. All of this he says while om his knees next to you,(when had you laid down?) Assessing your injury.

He reaches to you, and your instincts jerk you away, causing the pain to double and your vision to go white.

"Y/n, please?" He sounds heartbroken, or maybe thats the pain talking, at any rate you reach for the scroll from your vest.

"Hey, I'm fine! T-" you wince. "Tell me what this is? It seems important."

Èomer is understandably Indecrulious at this request, but at your insistence enrolls it and scans the words. He stuffs it into a discarded travelling bag, one you recognize as your own, amd slings it over your shoulder. "Me. They were targeting me, and you decide to be the hero."

"They what!?" You sit up ignoring the pain, "How dare they-"

Èomer is at your side. "No, not them. How dare you take an arrow meant for me, how could you do this." The words are harsh, but the tear on his face hits you harder. "I care not uf you hate me more for this, the arrow is to far in to pull out safely. I am going to snap the extra off, badage your other woumds and take you to the town."

"Èomer, I-"

He jerks his head. "No, sorry but I cannot let you suffer further." Swiftly he takes hold of the shaft, and there is a cracking sound. Brief moments are all he takes for the bandaging, working quickly. Gently he lifts you up, before telling the 3rd in command to take charge.

After walking a while you uncleanch your teeth, and speak, only partly conscious.

"I don't hate you, I'm just... Scared."

+5.

The time after you injury is rushed, with the Kings mind over thrown, and the death of the crown prince. Closly followed by Èomer's banishment, you have no time to seek the prince out. Not mentioning that he seems to be avoiding you.

In fact, you do not manage to get close to him until the council following the battle of Pelennor Fields, and then that is a war council, still he does not meet your eyes.

To your room you march, hope resting only on two hobbits wandering evil lands where no one else dared to step, you run through strokes in your head, for no other reason but to stop thinking.

The quaking starts, and the enemy is running.

You wake in the halls of healing with the king of Gondor over you. When your eyes meet he nods sharply and moves on to the next bed.

A green tuniced woman clears you to leave, but when you ask her the whereabouts of Èomer she shaoes her head sadly. "Sorry ma'am, he the one what died in the battle."

She directs you out of the room, patting your soulder kindly after your broken thanks.

A deserted and half destroyed courtyard is where you find yourself, sinking into a bench you stare at the path until it blurs, oblivious to anuthing else.

Until you hear a voice call your name, a voice you know all to well. Neck nearly snapingvat the speed with which you look up, you lock eyes with Èomer. Secondslater you put a hand against his chest, sobing in relief when you find he is solid you grip the fabric and burry your head in it. "Dead. They said you wrre dead."

Èomer seems to snap out of his shock, slightly, "I'm here, I've not died." Hesitantly he wraps his arms around you, allowing you to go limp. You shift to the bench again furiously scrubing at yiur eyes. "Oh dear, I am sorry my Prince, i know your hatred of me-"

"What?" His voice is a growl, sounding just as furious as the day you were shot. "Who has led you to belive this? For no longer will they draw breath,"

You jerk you head back. "You- youve been avoiding me so steadfastly that I..."

"No, no y/n I never could. No matger what you could do, it is not in me to hate you. You said you were afraid, and I never wish for that even if that means leaving you."

You nearly falls over in shock. "Oh Valar, not you. I was never afraid of you and that is what scares me. I feel safe around you, and thats what scares me." You run a hand through your matted hair. "All of the walls I put up... You break them down. I never wanted to touch, to feel, or even be near someone. Or rather I didnt need it."

"Y/n..."

You look back to him and he reaches hesitantly out. You sigh shakelly. "All I want is you, and I dont have the willpower any longer to hold that inside, I'm far to selfish for that."

"Let me be selfish as well then."

He folds you in an embrace, and for the first time in your recollection, you dont dodge away.

[f1-disaster-bi]

Something about tattoo au?

Here we go

"Are you sure about this?" Lance looked nervous as he stopped pacing and looked down at Lando. It was cute to see how nervous Lance was but Lando knew the other needed the reassurance as he offered Lance his hand to hold. The other squeezed it softly before Lando tugged their joint hands to his lips to press a kiss to his knuckles. "I'm sure about this, Lance. I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise", Lando reassured the other as settled back in the chair with a smile, "If you don't want to do it, Max will do it all. I know you're worried but I want this. We can't get married, but I want to carry part of you two with me forever" "We could just get you rings Schatje", Max spoke up from where he was sitting beside Xander near Lando's bare chest, watching as Xander prepped the skin and stencil over Lando's left pec, "We don't have to do tattoo's" "I know", Lando grinned as he looked between his two loves, "Both of you are carrying my ink on you, and I want to do the same. If it's too much, Xander can do them, but I would like it if you guys did it. You've had practice, and even if they turn out a little wonky, I don't care. I just care that they came from you" "Lando...", Lance blushed, words getting lost under the sincerity of Lando's words before he finally settled beside Lando with his hand in his. The tattoo they had chosen was a small and simple one. It wasn't either of their names, or their names squished together. It was a simply three little stick figures, each in a different color that Lando associated with the three of them. A darkish green for Lance, orange for himself, and black for Max because they couldn't find a dark shade of blue enough to remind him of Max. Lando knew he'd have to touch the colors up over time but he didn't mind that thought. It was actually a little romantic in his mind because he could have them do it again almost like a vow renewal for marriage. It would be there little thing and Lando loved it. He barely registered Xander talking Max through the process. His eyes closed at the drag of the needle in his skin because at this point, it was relaxing and it had been a while since Lando had gotten work done himself. Although he was debating getting something tattooed around the fading scar from his stabbing for a while now. It was a surprise though, when Lance actually let go of his hand with a smile and kiss to his forehead to let Xander talk him through doing the last of the little stick figures, and Lando felt himself get emotional when it was all done because he had proof now. Lando had proof in his boyfriends styles that this thing between them went deeper than just dating or fooling around. He had proof that after five years, they still wanted him and wanted him for eternity and he couldn't help but kiss them both once it was wrapped and whisper softly. "Happy wedding day, my loves" The laughter and kisses he got in response were perfection, and Lando couldn't imagine ever doing this with anyone else but them.

[valeriefauxnom]

And now the last fantastic new illustration by WillofWinnie!

Now, WillofWinnie had some additional thoughts that went into this that I figured I ought to let you guys know, since it adds that extra little touch! In short, the background on Euden's side is darker, Zethia's lighter, because, well, Euden's still kinda in a 'darker' place, and she decided to make that more literal. Zethia's also being the representation of the rest of the family, as shown by the Alberian flag behind her. So in that aspect it's Euden hesitantly reaching out to see if the royal fam is 'safe' again, also reinforced by the fact that he's only holding his new poem with one hand, 'testing the waters'.

So yeah, that's very cool and I thought it was important to tell you too!

That being said, our last little relevant exert!

Still, she greeted him with a warm smile. “Euden! How have you been?” She did not say ‘it’s nice to see you again’ despite how true it was to avoid placing that potential stress on him to make them happy, nor did she try to make her study of him too obvious. He looked…a touch different. For one, her sibling’s claims that they rarely saw him in the courtyard sunbathing appeared true, as he no longer had quite the same shade of pallor she’d last seen.  Zethia got a faint smile in return, though it did hide a touch of nervousness and uncertainty. That was another thing, and she would struggle to describe it, but it felt as if he was both calmer and more on edge. Maybe it was just the reminder of the last encounters she had with him coloring her perception of his current mood.  “I’ve…been doing alright, I suppose…” As she debated what to say in response, he hurriedly continued, in halting tones, “I just…wanted…to give you this. I- I’m not, I don’t think I’m ready to try and be with everyone else again, but…I just hoped, maybe, this might explain why?” 

I will ask though, for anyone who does care, are you wanting me to split up the last chapter into two? Together, both hypothetical 'parts' will easily be over 20k (as each member of the family is getting their 2k+ section), and I've still quite a bit of work to do despite having a good chunk of it done. That 'chunk' is predominately the earlier parts of the chapter, so I theoretically could have that up very soon if you guys would prefer having the first part of the ending up, either because you don't want a single chapter to be that long or just want that extra treat early? Please let me know somehow if you've a preference either way!

And, thanks again to WillofWinnie for working as hard as she did to give an illustration to every published chapter of Scaling!

[remyfire]

how do u think charles wld show affection to hawkeye and also bj if they were all together

Ooh, good question. I can only speak for my iterations of how I'd prefer to write them, so please be kind haha.

I don't think Charles prioritizes physical touch because he was not really raised to do so. I feel like he would show affection in perhaps more unique ways, simply wanting to sit with them and talk for ages, hearing their thoughts, listening to the musicality of their voices, having spirited debates that are tinged with fond sparkles in each other's eyes.

He'd be a gifter also for sure. Just so happens to find something the exact shade of their eyes, or an item that he thinks would suit Erin (it is better suited for a child roughly five years older than her, but it's the thought that counts, and it'll wait). They'd be delivered with a degree of fanfare, perhaps, but also if it's a very intimate and vulnerable gift that feels close to his heart, he'd be far more understated about it, possibly reluctant to accept very much gratitude—he's feeling a lot in his chest and isn't sure how to parse through it. He'll figure it out eventually.

Lots of time spent with them also. He already prioritizes playing chess with BJ, but he'd do that far more often, find excuses just to nudge their knees together under the board or tease him about a silly move he made, take it as good as he gives. Given what I said earlier, I think he would be almost alarmed at how Hawk mostly wants to curl up in a cot with him and loudly commentate about whatever he's reading at the time, but he'd grow used to it, would find himself perhaps absently just curving his body to avoid Hawk's more bony edges and make sure there's ample room for them both. Lots of parallel play potential.

I don't think I'm going anywhere with this. I'm just very soft now. Thank you for the ask!!!