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alchemistc · 2 days ago

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@liminalmemories21 - this isn't exactly what you asked for but:

Abby C. 8:51 PM: So how'd it go? With the talking?

Buck stares at the message. Stares at the milk frother sitting in his counter, and the candlesticks he'd really considered dropping off the side of his upper balcony, ten minutes ago. (He's a firefighter, he knows how that ends. But, like. Still)

Bad, he texts back. So bad. But he also won't give me my sweatshirt back and I know he has it. Any sage advice?

It's a little weird to be texting her. She'd been one of the first people he'd ever talked to consistently on the phone, and he'd grown to enjoy it, grown to appreciate that voice in his ear.

Abby texts back immediately: I'm not entirely sure I know what that means. He actually LIKED you.

Buck can feel the buzzing under his skin, the rush of adrenaline at remembering Tommy not only not denying he'd loved Buck, but admitting off-hand that he still did.

It means I'm getting my man back, Buck sends, and then stares at the slippers he can see poking out from the right side of the bed.

His phone rings.

"You know," Abby starts, before Buck can so much as greet her. "I spent a long time beating myself up for not seeing this as a sign, but that's not the point."

"What... is the point?"

Abby chuckles. She sounds good. Happy. Buck is far enough removed from it to feel glad for her, and jealous of her, and then he's rolling right back around to being fucking livid that Abby and Tommy had both run. Different reasons, same result. A first of Buck's that'd just walked away.

"He used to watch movies with my mom constantly. All the terrible schlock that I couldn't stand - Hallmark movies, and D-Lister rom coms, all those trite based on true events Lifetime shows."

Buck nods. Waits for her to continue.

She doesn't.

"I'm not picking up what you're dropping down."

"He and my mom would just critique them all the way through. Just tear them to shreds. What was unrealistic, what was just plain stupid. She - mom was never more lucid than when she and Tommy were bemoaning the lack of reality in those movies."

"Listen, I already know asking him to move in with me was a dumb idea. I'm the himbo, remember?"

Abby pauses. "...that's what he called you?"

"Apparently all your mutual friends did."

Abby sighs. "The point is, Buck. They liked watching them because they liked talking about what real relationships were actually like. What happened after a curtain close kiss, how much a couple was gonna fight over the financial sustainability of a Christmas themed donut shop, what the fiance that got left behind in the big city was gonna do now that they were finally free of the person who'd spent the holiday season losing their entire brains. Tommy's a realist. He wants to be stopped before he gets on the plane, but he wants to be stopped because you already have a ten step plan to make things work. And he's terrified of giving too much of himself away to someone who thinks he shits rainbows and puppies and hasn't reckoned with the fact that he's just as screwed up as the rest of us."

"You swear more than I remember."

Abby laughs. " But you see my point?"

Buck doesn't want to. But he does. "Well, I definitely don't think he's perfect anymore."

"And you still love him." She says it like she knows. She says it like she'd once expected to spend a life with Tommy Kinard.

"And I still love him," Buck acknowledges, and they both drift into silence. It's comfortable. Easy. He sort of misses being able to talk to her about shit like this.

"Call me if you need anything, Buck."

Buck hangs up the phone with a million new, vaguely more hopeful thoughts swirling around in his brain.

Twenty minutes later he texts her one more time: This is the only sex thing you're getting from me - that thing he does with your nipples? What the fuck?

Abby C. 9:22 PM: I taught him that. You're welcome.

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

#bucktommy fic #abby&buck

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hitmehardnsofttt · 2 days ago

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Nice Mover | (Sub!?)Vi Arcane x Reader

FYI: female reader x vi arcane, modern au, smut with brief plot, slight fluff, sub!vi, car sex, oral sex, strap sex, lots of swearing (duh), strap referred to as cock, lolz. Enjoy whores!

———————————————————————————

"That movie was actually insane? I doubt I’m going to be able to think about anything else tonight. And if I catch one person fucking "smiling at me", so help me god." Vi shouts. You hold back a laugh as you grab her car door opening it for her, your focus always on her.

Got a strange feeling I’m about to take her mind off things.

She wasn't the biggest horror movie fan, and you knew that, but you lived for the shit. So yeah, you had to do some groveling to get her to agree to go, but you also promised her something extra special tonight if she went with you.

After she'd had enough of complaining about Smile 2, you both climb back into your green jeep.

You had removed the back seats in your jeep last year but earlier today you made sure to take the time to make it extra comfortable back there prior to the date, knowing you had nothing but sinful pleasures planned for her later.

I mean she did say she wanted to try this out during that drinking game of Never Have I Ever we played at that party last weekend...

You started the car and began to roll up the heavily tinted windows.

"Why are you rolling the windows all the way up? Are we not going to smoke on the way ho-?"

But, before she can finish her question, you slam your lips onto hers. Fiercely. Ferociously. Almost frenzied. Your breath catches everytime you kiss her perfectly heart shaped lips.

You grab Vi's spiky short fucsia colored hair, slowly tugging it and moving her in the direction you want her. It doesn't take long for her to notice you're not holding back like you usually do, normally too racked with nerves to initiate things.

She pulls away from you to catch a breath. Her big blue eyes scanning you curiously. You can see her perked pierced nipples peeking through her tank now.

"That was....u-unexpected. Hot. But,unexpected. What are you up to?" She asks, raising a single brow. “And what if someone sees us?” She asks looking around you and outside of the car.

Your eyes fill with lust just at the site of her, making it hard to focus on anything else.

"You know my windows are tinted but if they want to see us that badly...let them. Get in the back, now." You insist nodding your head in that direction.

Vi chuckles in response but makes quick work to hop over the middle console and to the back. You follow her.

"Why's it like a hotel back here? Did you do this for me?" she chuckles, lightening the mood as she always does. Never one to take herself too seriously.

That sly grin that's always plastered on her face turns into her jaw slowly dropping as she watches you seductively remove your clothes along with the pink underwear you wore, just for her.

You dangle them like a treat as you spread your legs for her. Putting on a show. Her eyes fill with the most intense lust you've seen from her thus far.

"I thought... hmmm.. i don't know you.. you might be hungry after all that.. stress..ya know..from the movie." you tease her as you reach down to your folds, putting yourself fully on display for her.

She noticeably licks her lips.

"Good girl, come here," you assert as you beckon her closer with a single finger.

Within seconds Vi's tongue is deep inside of you. Your hips involuntarily grinding with each stroke of her tongue in attempt to get her even deeper inside. She works her way up to your clit. Her eyes locked onto yours. She expertly swirls circles around it with her tongue at first, then sucking it, then stroking it between her two long fingers.

“I love that you’re so wet for me sweet girl,” Vi says before turning her attention back to your slick folds, and then back on your clit.

“Only for you,” you reply, eyes fixated on her.

You swear you feel her smile in response. Her skillful tongue works tirelessly flicking back and forth. Vi's able to draw out sounds from you that you've never even heard yourself make before and the faster she goes, the louder you moan. Your back arches instinctively against the floor.

"Vi, fuck, just like - that, like t-that, yes.” You reach down with both hands, grabbing her head and tilting it up for just a second.

"You look so fucking pretty down there... Are you gonna let me cum on your face, beautiful?" You ask with a slight whine to your tone.

Vi dizzily smiles at you in response and nods. The taste of you seemingly intoxicating to her.

Her tongue departs her swollen pink lips as you hold her head steady while using her tongue to get yourself over the edge. Her little nose hoop ever so slightly brushing your clit as you grind your sopping wet slit against her. Up and down. The windows are fogged, the noises of her soaking up every drop of you drowned out by Gina X Performance’s 'Nice Mover' playing from the car speakers. The feeling in your stomach starts to become overwhelming. Vi easily slips her fingers inside of you, curling three of her lengthy digits up towards your g spot.

"F-fuck, fuuuuuck, f-, Vi! Yes, yes, yes-mhmm-holy f-" You try to move back but the entire bottom half of your body begins to twitch.

Vi lays on top of you as your orgasm starts to unfold. Her fingers never fully leaving you until you’ve come back down from your high. Only once you open eyes does she take them out.

She sucks on them one by one and teases you with a wink before saying, “You were sooo right babe. I was starving!” she teases with a huge smile plastered on her face.

“Oh yeah? We’ll see who gets the last laugh,” you retort with just a slight grin on your face. You try to flip Vi over, forgetting the small space you’re in and bump your head on the car door.

“Shit!” you whine out. You want to be pissed but you can’t help but laugh because when you look over at Vi, you see a look of concern mixed with holding back laughter. It’s quite amusing.

“Don’t even…” you trail off. She lets out the lightest chuckle while you both work to remove her tank and striped pants.

“Yes ma'am!!" She replies in a playful tone while mockingly saluting you.

You then reach under the driver's seat pulling out your backpack. Her eyes widen as she lets out a nervous snort.

“Oh you’re not fucking around, huh?” she questions.

“Nope,” you reply, moving your body in ways a gymnast would envy to get your strap on in the car.

“Now….lets get you ready for me, huh?” you ask Vi, eyes full of desire.

You scoot back towards the other car door so she has a little space. She looks confused at first but her eyes go wide again when you tell her.. "Show me how you fuck yourself, Vi." your hunger to have her beneath you growing by the minute.

She hesitates for a few seconds. One could almost say she looks shy.

"Do you need me to tell you how, pretty girl?" you ask slightly tilting your head.

But almost as if teasing her made a switch flip, her eyes fill with a look of lust mixed with determination. She locks eyes with you, slowly taking her two middle fingers up to her mouth and sucking on them. She makes sure to make a show of it. Her tongue ring flashing as she circles her tongue around them..

Fuck.

She tip toes her fingers down her fuscia colored happy trail tormentingly slow. She's trying to drive you crazy and it's working.

Once she finally reaches the hood of her clit she spreads it slowly, putting herself fully on display for you.

"Like this, baby?" she asks seductively. It's taking everything in you not to start drooling. So to save some dignity, you nod instead. She works her fingers slowly and expertly around the hood of her budding clit, squeezing it.. swiping up and down...teasing it, never quite touching it directly, but you can see how wet she's growing from where you're sitting.

"That’s my good fucking girl, Vi." you all but moan out. You see her pussy visibly twitch at your words.

Fuck, I can't wait any longer.

"Come here." You instruct.

Vi follows your instructions. She deliberately crawls over to you on her hands and knees, slowly situating herself into your lap just right. You grab her hips and just take her in for a moment. Looking her up and down. Enjoying all of her, in awe of her.

"All these big muscles on the outside, but you're just a little slut on the inside, huh?" you ask Vi playfully.

You earn a laugh from her in response as she leans in to kiss you and you can't help but relish in it. Ever since she kissed you on your second date, you knew she was the type of girl you could kiss forever. You pause for a moment.

"You're so fucking perfect, you know that?" You tell her, swiping your thumb across her "Vi" face tattoo ever so gently.

You lean in and whisper in her ear. "I wanna stretch you...are you ready?" You ask her. She nods hazily in response.

"Up," you instruct.

You combine your saliva and her sweet arousal in your hand to make sure your cock is ready for her. You position yourself ever so precisely as she slowly lowers herself onto its full length. She crashes her lips back onto yours and wraps her tattooed arms around your shoulders as she instinctively starts to grind her hips against you.

Oh poor sweet baby, now she should know we can't let those quads go to waste, now can we?

You grab her hips and stop her and she pulls away from the kiss in response.

“Uh uh.” you say.

"W-w-what? What are you doing?" she replies while trying to catch her breath.

"You didn't think I'd let you get off that easy did you?" you ask with a sly smirk.

You move your head in a single up and down motion while you lock eyes with her. "Bounce." you demand.

Vi tries to read you to to see if you're joking or not. but you hold stern. She then re-positions herself so she's able to move more freely.

Your hands now free to grab her perfect ass while she bounces on top of you.

"You can start slow," you guide her as you watch your length slowly disappear inside of her before reappearing. On her own she slowly starts to pick up the pace. Each bounce causing friction against your own clit that is sure to make you cum soon. Vi's moans are husky, while yours are guttural.

"Awww, look at you creaming all over that cock for me pretty girl, are you close?" Vi instantly nods. You take one hand and wrap it around her neck and use the other to slightly tug on her pierced nipple. She slightly slows her pace but you quickly notice she's bouncing harder than she was before.

"Right….fucking…..there- y-yeah" Vi moans out with hazy lust filled eyes. You would swear you can feel it hitting her g spot.

Your eyes lock onto Vi's but just as they do, she pauses mid thrust, your cock falling out of her by force allowing her to squirt... all..over..your..lap.

"That's my good fucking girl." you tell Vi. Your own orgasm rapidly nearing as you’re watching her cum.

"F-fuck!" she lets out, throwing her head back. Her legs shaking. You have to make quick work to grab her ass again just to help hold her up.

She's so fucking perfect.

Her legs start to regain their strength and before you know it she's grabbing your cock and placing it back inside of her, grinding on top of you again.

"I'm close, Vi." you let out, holding onto her, no longer trying to act tough.

"I know baby, I know,” she replies. Placing a soft kiss on your lips before she starts bouncing on you again and that's all it takes for you to reach your sweet release. Vi cums again with you, fully falling into your arms with your cock still inside of her. Both of you are left breathless and and fully spent.

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the-artist-grimm · 2 days ago

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Im sorry if you already answered something similar but does the twins ever reunite with Forneus in your au? If so how does it exactly work out, does Narinder, Anthea, and Forneus share custody?

Crimson Angel AU - The Situation between Forneus and the Twins

(Anon, @gerroacarnival and @xquaserh Putting all these asks in 1 cause oh boy this is a COMPLICATED question to answer oof. I wanna preface this that while I love Forneus just going by the characters personalities/themes of this AU the reunion is not as fairy-tale happy as it is in game)

Anyway-the boys do reunite with her technically, but not in the way Forneus dreamt. Reunions are good in theory, the long lost children reunite with their ‘real’ family, hug their mother, go ‘home’ with her, start life anew, but life isn’t so simple, now is it? It’s never that easy, not when one side clings to the memory of three day old infants and a reunion she'd dreamt of for so long it just became her expectation, and the other side has no memory and complex feelings on the whole matter with this slight feeling that perhaps while their mother loves the idea of them, she doesn't actually love them.

It's messy, complicated, and no matter what, will NEVER be the reunion Forneus wanted. The second they left her embrace, she lost the chance to be the mother she'd wanted to be for them, yet never realize till too late what else died with them.

(Putting this under the cut cause it's longgggg. The Twins and Forneus's story has so little in-game text that it's become this favorite thing of mine to interpret/expand)

The Two Parents

Forneus did and didn’t have a choice to give the boys up. When Shamura appeared, the newborn, extremely premature kits were already doomed to die, so the choice to either let them pass naturally or to allow War to take them as gifts with a potential of reunion was an either damned if she did or damned if she didn’t, situation. And in her grief and desperation, she chose the option that gave the potential for hope. She gave the twins to Shamura, accepted the golden skull, and waited. Waited for her babies to come home, waited as a mother who never really ever had a chance to be a mother-one who works off feelings but no experience.

Meanwhile when it came to Aym and Baal, Narinder never told them who their parent(s) were. How could he, when he himself had no certainty as to who they were? Though his 7th Vessel, Forneus, had left service specifically because of pregnancy, he had no means of tracking how much time had passed since when they first arrived (it could've been a century since for all he knew), nor any means to confirm without doubt that the black, newborn kittens were hers even once his next vessel gave him the date-he couldn't ask them to investigate something so personal and unrelated to their cause.

Their box held only their bodies, a spider-silk cloth which was their burial shroud, and a note penned in Shamura’s hand. ‘A Gift’ that’s all the note said. No names, no clues, no nothing. While Narinder had suspicions, he could not in good conscious tell the boys of a potential mother out of risk of being wrong-of getting their hopes up for a heroic parent only to be proved that it wasn’t her, or worse, told heroic tales just to learn they were abandoned all along. Vessel 7 was heroic yes, had a sense of justice yes, but during her service her luck had made her grow arrogant, had transformed flirting into a game of hearts and people into a way to get the upper hand-for all he knew, if they were hers, they could've all along been her means of trying to easily get out of vesselship. He just didn't know.

And thus Narinder raised them from there. He tried to use the title of ‘Master’ as a barrier in hopes that, if they did have a family awaiting them, he wouldn't take their place, (it was also out of guilt for being the reason they were trapped) but he also couldn't bring himself to fully shut them out either. The moment their dead bodies healed in the gate and they started to mewl for attention his unbeating heart bled for them, and he just couldn't deny them love because he knew how much it hurt to be without.

The Twins

As centuries passed Aym and Baal were content with Narinder as their 'Master'. He who told them stories of his time above, who taught them how to fight, who fashioned them clothes from whatever scraps of cloth he would get vessels to send-he was all they had and knew. When they felt the time to sleep it was in his paws they curled up, when they got hurt training or got bored it was from he they received comfort and attention. It was his magic which allowed them to age against the Gateway's stasis, it was he who saw their eyes open, watched as they learned to speak and walk.

But that’s not to say neither did think of whoever was left behind from time to time. Baal tried to keep hope that he and his brother were taken-stolen by the Bishops, with whatever parents they’d had having desperately tried to keep War away. Aym, meanwhile, only felt anger, bitterness and resentment, for who lets two three day old kits be taken and sacrificed? Narinder himself simply tried to keep neutral on the subject, not wanting to feed into either side in hopes that'd avoid a heartbreak or the smooth transition to their 'real' kin.

The Lamb

When the Lamb appears and starts to befriend them, it's then the boys suddenly find themselves feeling the same sense of security and comfort Narinder gives them towards Anthea. As the lamb brings them toys and books catered to their interests, teaches them to read, uses the crown to show them the world above and encourage their boundless curiosities. As nights suddenly see the lamb visit in their nightgown book and quilt in hand, letting the twins snuggle into their sides as the three are cradled against Narinder's chest while reading a book, and the boys fall asleep to a heartbeat for the first time. Narinder had always been stability and security, Anthea became tenderness and warmth.

Anthea teaches them what a 'Father' is as well, and the boys realize that's what their master actually is-he's their dad and tentatively start testing calling him as such, and while it's not until just before Silk Cradle they realize it (yet don't call them Baba yet) Anthea's long on their way to feeling like a parent too.

Which then begs the question…what of the parent(s) left behind?

First Contact

Baal still wants to meet them, he's always been curious and just wants to know who they are, while Aym is still angry and wants nothing to do with them. They got a parent in their master, and Anthea's their friend and practically a parent too, so why bother with the ones who abandoned them? Narinder overhears the boys debate over it more and more, and as Anchordeep’s door opens, Narinder hesitantly asks the Lamb for a favor.

He’d heard rumors of a shopkeep she-cat who wore a golden skull, and Anthea had been the first to confirm that cat's name was Forneus. He’d never asked a vessel to do such a thing before, mainly out of not feeling close enough to ever ask such a personal, unrelated to the Bishops, task, but he wants to give the boys closure, and Anthea would happily do anything to help the kits. And thus they're sent out, and in a bit of a side quest work their way to getting Forneus to sit down and just...talk.

She explains her side of what happened, how the boys were born too soon, how she had really no choice, breaks down, and as the cats had been listening in and Aym who's now uncertain feels bad, and he requests Narinder for permission to speak.

“Save your tears for when we meet” is what he says, and that’s all that’s said through the crown.

For Aym it’s an olive branch-he’s sorta gotten an answer as to why he and his brother were sacrificed, though he's not entirely sure how to feel since well...she still gave them up, but she looks sorry so... Baal's eager and happy to hear that they were cared about but is a little disappointed at realizing that she didn't really hesitate despite the situation, but regardless, both are willing to give her a chance. They want to get to know her, and then they'll decide how they feel after that.

They, do not, see her as a proper 'Mother'. Just someone who shares their blood who they want to meet. To then Narinder's still Dad-he's still the one who makes them feel secure.

Meanwhile for Forneus it’s proof that she’ll get what was promised. Her boys are not only alive, but they’re children-they’re still children, so she'll now get what she wanted and more. They'll reunite and she'll then take her children home to travel by her side-she’ll get to raise her dear little babies just as she’d planned, and while it took so long it's going to be perfect.

She's dreamt of the boys seeing and running into her oncoming embrace crying. That they'll love her instantly and had already because she's their mother so of course that's how they'll feel. How could they not? Children ALWAYS love their parents.

The Lamb promises to help her meet them once they’re free, and every visit after, Forneus tries to get the boys to talk again-offers gifts for the lamb to bring to the Gateway, rambles on about all the things they'll do together while the Lamb browses her shop. And...well they're things, at least. Most of the toys she offers are either baby toys or things that just don't interest the boys, and some of her plans are...plans. They're elaborate-taking them to X mountain, to X landmark, traveling here and there and everywhere. Big and grand and...and never mentioning their Dad or Anthea being there.

Baal thinks it's sweet how excited she is while Aym is getting more and more unsure-but even Baal eventually admits that she's a little...loud. Forneus is loud-she's energetic and eager and while he and Aym can be too, seeing it from a stranger about them is...weird. She keeps calling herself their Mama , and calling them Zamir and Delshad despite being told otherwise because apparently those were their names (a fact not even Shamura had been given. Narinder had to name the boys himself). She keeps talking about those three days they were with her, and it kinda feels like she loves the babies she gave up and not them.

Anthea tries to tell her about them, but she usually doesn't realzie since she's busy talking to her babies and not them, it's as if the lamb isn't even there. The boys can't even try to think of trying to talk-she never leaves an opening for them to try. Eventually the boys ask Narinder to mute the crown during the Lamb's shop visits the more uncomfortable it gets.

It's like going to a family reunion and being brought to your great Aunt who last saw you as an infant at your christening. She insists on kissing your face and hugging you tight and going oh how big you've grown sweetiepie and this and that and...and you put up with it because she's family but...well she's a stranger despite the shared blood. She doesn't actually know the you of now-and you don't know her.

Reunion

When the final Bishop falls is when Forneus suddenly finds herself left in the dark. For 6 months she sees hide nor hair of the Lamb, and gradually gets worried because where are her sons? The Bishops are dead, why hasn't she been given back her babies?

(The Lamb had been avoiding her cart during crusades out of both grief and guilt-Aym's dying word of calling them 'Baba'...it broke something in them, made them realize just how much the boys had meant. They had a shattered heart and endless guilt, and having to face Forneus and explain she'd never meet her sons? It'd been too much as a grieving parent themself)

The twins were revived after 4 months but Anthea only finally approached Forneus after 6, and she was too relived to finally hear she could meet them to bother asking what'd happened. Anthea invited her to come to the cult that weekend, and Forneus happily accepted, not even noticing the tiredness in the Lamb's eyes nor the uncertainty in their tone. Even on the day she arrived at the cult, she didn't mind the lamb, not even as Anthea gave her a final warning.

"There was trouble setting them free…they’re wary, skittish, they’ve been through a lot... I know you’re excited but please be gentle when you speak to them, be calm and keep your distance please they’re so easy to startle."

Meanwhile the boys waited at the temple with Narinder, who, for the hundredth time, asked if they were certain they were ready for this. Though it'd been 2 months, the toll of dying so traumatically via turning to ash, of being trapped in the gateway, the trauma of resurrection, the fear of being alone without their parents because that's what he and Anthea were to them, Narinder had wanted them to wait as did Anthea. The boys could hardly sleep without at least one of them there with them in bed, were just starting to be ok interacting with other people, could only handle the touch of a select few and even then sometimes would just break down into panic attacks out of seemingly nowhere. They weren't ok, but the boys had insisted. This woman who claimed to love them had been kept in the dark for so long, they felt bad and wanted to try.

They felt guilty for not being ok. Even as Narinder and Anthea repeatedly and gently reminded them that it was alright-that their feelings were valid, that they could take all the time they needed and they'd be right there to support them, the boys had insisted and they just couldn't deny them their choice.

But once Forneus arrived no one got the chance to even properly introduce the boys to her-she just saw them, ran towards them for the reunion she dreamt up, swept them into her arms, and next thing she knew she had two yowling, struggling kits trying to break from her hold. In her excitement and in not listening to Anthea's warnings she'd done the worst thing anyone could've done-she was louder, bigger, stronger, scarier than them, and as the kids managed to shock her into dropping them suddenly Baal was hyperventilating, and Aym was working himself into a panic attack. And Narinder and Anthea, having two months practice in calming them like this, and having long been the twin's safe people, immediately fell into place. Narinder got Baal, Anthea got Aym, and Forneus could only watch.

Could only watch as Baal started gasping for Dad as Narinder tried to get him to breathe, as Aym started sobbing for Baba and practically tried to bury himself in their embrace, as her babies looked at her in fear and clung to someone else.

And then all she can feel is anger. She'd waited 300 years-those boys were hers. Why are they clinging to someone else?

From there it just becomes a mess, she gets into a very loud, very heated argument with Narinder especially for 'stealing' her sons which just scares the boys more, and in a very poor move tries to just grab one of them which prompts Anthea to use a show of godly power and threaten her to get out of the Cult which she does since a crowd has also formed (the Cult was ALL aware of the twin's poor mental state, and they'd all grown very protective of the community's first children despite having to keep their distance because by gods those kids deserved more than what fate had given them).

Forneus leaves angry, and Narinder and Anthea now got two kits who had been tentatively healing temporarily back at square one, and who are now gonna start having nightmares of a stranger taking them away on top of preexisting ones.

I wanna note that Forneus isn't a bad person. She isn't, but she's also not used to things not going her way. As a vessel she was 'Lady Luck', she who rarely died, who always had the upper hand, who would pop curse shots at the Goddess of Famine for fun and be the heartbreaker of her own cult able to flirt and tease and talk her way to whatever she wished. She's kind and cheerful and charismatic sure and she genuinely does want to help people and do the right thing, but there's still this...ignorance, arrogance-that she doesn't even realize is there.

Like how above in Starfall Part 1 she VERY casually mentions how she 'knows what it's like missing her own twins' and 'how 'hard' it must be for Anthea to have nothing of their family to remember them by', but the thing is...she doesn't know. She's so hooked on this idea that she WILL get her boys back that she completely has just ignored the grief that comes with loss entirely this whole time. The way she misses her sons is NOTHING like how Anthea misses their brothers-she misses them like a relative you haven't seen in awhile but will see soon. Anthea misses their brothers because they're DEAD and they know that they will NEVER see the two again, especially now. Like Forneus has not considered how she's lost a LOT of moments with her children. They're still kids yeah but they're not returning to her as blank slates-though physically and mentally 11 they've been with Narinder for over 300 years, that's a lot of time to be without her. She loves them, but kinda more-so the sons she thought she'd get back.

Thus when you've been envisioning this 'perfect' reunion the entire time only for it to not go your way...it's a hard pill to swallow. She gets disappointed/angry understandably-anyone would, but instead of stepping back and realizing she can't fault the boy's feelings she takes it out of the ones who 'took' her place instead, which then turns her into this loud scary bad-guy to the boys.

And Aym and Baal aren't to blame in this situation, like they're kids, and like with my 'great aunt who last saw you as a baby' analogy, it's not their fault they don't immediately love her. She's a stranger-one whom, the more she tried to force interactions via the crown during their imprisonment, seemed to have little interest in them personally and more in whatever children she assumed she'd be getting back. And after that disaster of a first meeting? They don't want anything to do with her she scared them that much.

As for Narinder and Anthea they both feel awful because they understand why Forneus is angry, she only gave them up because she was promised a chance for reunion (though she ignored the CHANCE part of that), but in the same breath Aym and Baal are their sons and they'll take their side first over anyone else's. And the thing is there's nothing that could've been done on their part to prevent this really either.

Anthea telling Forneus the twins had died? Anger, grief, then upon their revival a fierce insistence for the boys to NEVER go near the Lamb or Narinder again, which the twins would've been just as terrified and against.

Narinder not showing care to the kits for those 300 years? They would've gotten attached to him anyway since he was literally all they had, though they might've turned out worse emotionally because of neglect

Telling the boys to wait longer to meet Forneus? She likely would've just shown up on her own within another month anyway since by that point Anthea had just freed Heket from Purgatory and word was starting to get around about the new God of Death so this would've happened but worse.

The only way Forneus could've had the reunion she'd wanted would have been if Narinder never forced the twins to start aging against the stasis. But then there would be two 300+ year old infants, which is a whole other can of worms.

Notes/Explaination

Again I love Forneus in-game she's so adorable and my one of my favorite NPCs to visit, but I also like making imperfect characters, especially parents and their relationships with their children. And while I love the idea of her being this wonderful, sweet, amazing mother, I also like the idea of her being really flawed about it to.

Crimson Angel is about learning to communicate with your loved ones, and in this case, it needs to be her looking at things from the twins view and realizing that if they don't want her in their lives, she has to accept that. She needs to realize that she's not entitled to their love just because she gave birth to them. She also has to let go of the sons she gave up that day-those three day old infants who were perfect little blank slates, and get to know the boys they became without her. She has to realize someone else took her place in their hearts, and realize that if she wants to join them, she HAS to let the boys come to her, and that she has to work on THEIR terms.

She cannot try and force a love if she wants a chance for it at all, and must swallow her pride and listen to others who know the boys better-Anthea and Narinder, alongside the boys themselves.

She'll get a relationship with the boys eventually, but it's not going to be the one she hoped for. She's gotta work on herself first and realize her flaws, maybe get some practice with handling children via unintentionally adopting a certain fan-favorite grave spider kid after finding him all alone, and just...wait. Narinder and Anthea are the twin's primary parents, and while Forneus does eventually get to a place where they're comfortable with her, it's never going to be on the same level, and they all just gotta contend with that.

Boarders are by @/lambouillet

#I love tragic stories can't you tell? Also stories that explorer the relationship between parents and kids-cause a lot of times kids agency #in the relationship is often ignored/taken for granted-they shouldn't be expected to love someone because of blood alone #*beats characters emotions to a pulp* it's for character development I swear!#crimson angel au #cotl #ask #cotl shamura #cotl narinder #cotl aym #cotl baal #crimson angel au lore #cotl forneus #cult of the lamb #my writing

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do-you-have-a-flag · 3 hours ago

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Text recounting of the full events below but oh my god please watch this person explain the wildest thing happening to them

[image text]r/trueoffmychest post by CptnSpaceCase

Today my aide cooked what should not be cooked

I have to get this out, because today feels like an actual nightmare I keep expecting to wake up from.

I'm disabled, and need help with stuff around the house. Today was the second day with a new agency and new home health aide, "Tina." I set it up so she would come by in the morning while I'm sleeping (insomnia is killer), and I texted her last night what I would need done today.

One of those things was to roast some precut squash I'd gotten so I could have it with my salads and pasta. I was very clear in my instructions: what it looked like, where it was in the fridge, how to use the oven, how to cook it. I also have a roommate who was up and told her she could ask them for help if she couldn't find anything. Or come get me if truly necessary.

Now, I have three pet ball pythons. They eat rats that I thaw from frozen in the fridge in a reusable plastic bag. Yes, that's where I'm going with this.

Tina couldn't find the squash, and so, obviously, that meant she should roast the first other thing she could see that was technically also encased in plastic, in a completely different area of the fridge. The FUCKING RATS. In butter and salt, in my nice baking dish.

And like, that's insane all on its own, but if you're going to cook any animal, you should at least clean and skin it first, right??? Like, do the crazy, disgusting thing properly so I can respect the effort, instead of sticking them in as is. Fur and guts and all.

And the smell. Good God baby Jesus the SMELL. It woke me up and had me gagging the moment I opened my bedroom door. Definitely not squash. Or food-smelling for that matter. At first I thought the squash had spontaneously rotted overnight and she'd tried to cook it anyway. That would have been slightly less insane and much preferable.

I had to pull it out of her what she was cooking instead when she said she couldn't find it (it was in plain sight), had to open the oven and see my snakes' dinners in place of my own and still couldn't process what the fuck was happening, what I was looking at and smelling. I don't like yelling at people and generally avoid it. Today was a day for exceptions. And at the end of my half-crazed, dissociative rant, I told her to get the whole dish and its contents and herself out of the fucking house. And to not come back.

Suffice to say, I've contacted the agency to report it and am requesting a new aide. Now I'm sitting at a cafe trying to calm down and eat something despite the scent memory that's taken up permanent residence and turning my stomach. The whole house reeks like musty, sewage-dipped pork that had been left out for a whole day before being cooked in rancid oil, and I'm not sure Febreeze is gonna cut it. I don't want to go home. 🫠😭

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lee-laurent · 2 days ago

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Fairytale - Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn, a commoner, falls for the princess of his kingdom

content: monarchy (?), fluff, angst, arranged marriage

wc: 9.5k

notes: this is kinda cheesey. i can't tell if it's cringe or not... also i had to use translator app a bit because idk the english words for some like fairytale stuff

Princess Francesca shifted restlessly in her bed, the dawn light casting pale strips of light through her curtains. She could hear the faint, familiar creaks of the palace as it stirred awake--the footsteps of the early-rising servants, the rattle of dishes from the kitchens below, the swish of brooms across the marbled halls.

Today was a court day, and soon her maid would enter with a dress stiff with embroidery, layers of silk, and delicate lace. She'd be expected to sit for hours in the throne room beside her father, listening to noblemen, landowners, and advisors drone on. A long day of diplomacy and keeping her shoulders straight, her chin lifted just so. The thought alone made her itch for escape.

Francesca bit her lip, her heart pounding as she crept to her wardrobe and reached for her plainest, dullest dress. She slipped it over her nightgown, pulling the rough woolen fabric over her head, the fibres scratching against her skin--a small price to pay for a taste of freedom.

She sat at her vanity, shaking her golden hair free from its nightly braid, her curls falling in soft waves past her shoulders. Reaching for her ribbon, a pale blue one that she used almost every day, she grabbed the front strands of her hair, securing them in the back with a bow. The ribbon was her favourite touch--simple, delicate, and nothing like the polished tiaras or heavy jewels she was used to. With a final check to ensure her face was free of any telltale signs of royalty, she drew up her hood and made her way toward the door.

Frankie's maid, Alice, a warm-hearted woman with wise eyes and a knack for knowing precisely when not to ask questions, waited outside her chamber door. She raised an eyebrow as Frankie slipped into the hall, unable to fully hide her smirk. "And where will you be going this morning, Your Highness?"

Frankie rolled her eyes. "Out."

Alice's mouth quirked into a smile. "Just 'out,' is it?"

"Just out," Frankie confirmed, trying to sound nonchalant. She fidgeted with her hands, giving her maid a sheepish smile.

"Right. And if anyone asks, you're...?"

"Visiting the royal library," Frankie said with a practiced innocence that didn't fool anyone. She laughed softly, her excitement showing. "Or perhaps just getting some fresh air."

Alice's face softened. She was the one person in the palace who knew the princess's longing for life outside the walls, for glimpses of the world where people's lives weren't spent writing royal decrees or following courtly schedules. She reached out, tucking a stray curl behind Frankie's ear. "Be careful, my lady."

"I will. I promise." They shared a silent look--a small, loyal moment--and then she hurried down the corridor, her heart racing as she slipped down the servant's staircase.

Once she reached the palace gardens, she held her breath, feeling the crunch of the gravel path under her shoes. She walked briskly, drawing her cloak tightly around her as she slipped through the gates at the side of the gardens, making her way out of the palace grounds and into the village.

Everything around her felt a little brighter. She watched the vendors set up their carts, the farmers unloading barrels and crates, children running along the cobblestone paths with shouts of laughter. She smiled to herself. Here, no one would spot that she was Princess Francesca. Here, she would be just another face in the crowd.

The hum of the village felt so much different than the hum of the palace. Here, people smiled and waved to each other, calling out their familiar greetings. A woman walked past with a basket of freshly picked apples. A dog barked as it chased after a boy in a patchy coat. For the first time in days, Frankie could breathe.

Stepping into the heart of the market, she allowed herself to slow down, to wander without purpose. Here, she was just a girl in a hood, taking in the sights and sounds.

The market hummed with energy, the cobblestone paths busy with villagers setting out baskets of freshly baked bread, bundles of herbs, and gleaming fruits and vegetables. Frankie weaved through the stalls, occasionally glancing over her shoulder, though no one gave her a second glance. Her father ruled the lands with a firm but fair hand, and his face was well-known. But she, safely hidden beneath her cloak, remained unrecognized--a mystery among the townsfolk.

Drawn by the warm glow of a blacksmith's forge near the edge of the square, Frankie approached a modest shop where the rhythmic clang of hammer against metal rang out. She slowed her pace, intrigued by the broad-shouldered young man working within.

He had thick, dark hair that caught in the morning light, and his hands moved with practiced ease, shaping a piece of iron with each strike of his hammer. He face was focused, intent on his work, and she watched him with quiet fascination, feeling like she'd stepped into another world.

Suddenly, his voice interrupted her thoughts. "Do I have something on my face, or are you just that interested in the fine art of smithing?"

Startled, Frankie's eyes snapped up to meet his. His expression held a bit of amusement, the slightest lift of his eyebrow acknowledging the fact that he'd caught her staring.

"Oh, I--no, I mean..." Frankie stammered, momentarily flustered. She tried to regain her composure, pulling her hood down a little lower. "I was just... watching."

"Watching, were you?" His tone was light, teasing, as he wiped his hands on a rough cloth and stepped out from behind the forge. Up close, his face was warm, with sharp blue eyes that seemed to see right through her. "You don't look like a smithing enthusiast, if I'm being honest."

"No, I suppose I'm not," she replied, feeling her cheeks warm. "But it's... interesting. I've never really seen it up close."

"Ah, I see. A newcomer, then," he guess, smiling in a genuine way. "You're safe here, don't worry. No one's going to bite." He extended his hand. "I'm Quinn."

For a split second, Frankie hesitated, but then she placed her hand in his. His grip was rough and firm, completely devoid of the etiquette and delicacy she was used to. It felt real.

"Frankie," she replied, keeping the introduction simple.

"Frankie," he repeated. "Well, Frankie, nice to meet you. And welcome to our fine little village."

"It's lovely," she said earnestly, glancing around. "Much more... lively than the palace."

She caught herself too late, realizing she'd let slip more than she meant to. But if Quinn noticed, he didn't show it. He was looking at her with the same warm smile, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners.

"What brings you to this side of town?" he asked. "It's rare we get visitors who find the blacksmith shop 'interesting.'"

"Oh, I, um..." She scrambled for an explanation. "I wanted to see a bit more of the kingdom. Sometimes you see things more clearly when you... step outside of your own walls."

Quinn tilted his head, considering her answer. There was a glint of something--understanding, perhaps--in his eyes. "Well, then, you picked a good day for it. And if you're looking to see the world from outside 'your walls,' let me know. I've got a pretty good tour of this place. It's not much, but it's home."

Frankie couldn't help but laugh. "A tour? Do you always offer guided tours to strangers?"

"Only to the ones who seem a bit... lost." He crossed his arms, clearly trying to read her, but without the prying curiousity she had expected.

"Well then, perhaps I'll take you up on it. After all, it's not every day you meet a blacksmith willing to show you around."

A gust of wind swept through the square, lifting her hood slightly. Without thinking, she reached up to pull it back into place, but not before it slipped just far enough to reveal her face fully.

Quinn's eyes widened, recognition flickering across his face as he took a step back. "Wait... you're--"

Before he could finish, he hastily lowered himself into an awkward bow, his expression suddenly formal and full of embarassment. "Your Highness. I'm so sorry, I didn't know--"

"No, please, stand up," she tried to stifle a laugh. "I'm not a princess here. I'm just... Frankie."

He straightened slowly, clearly uncertain. She could tell he was grappling with how to speak to her now that he knew her true identity. A few tense moments passed, before Frankie took a deep breath.

"I really mean it," she said softly. "Out here, I'm just another face in the crowd. Not Princess Francesca. Just Frankie."

"Just... Frankie," he echoed, testing out the words. A small smile played at his lips, and she could see his confidence returning, though there was a newfound hint of respect. "I think I can manage that."

They stood there, quietly holding each other's gaze as the bustling world continued around them. They were both fully aware that something had changed in the brief exchange. Frankie felt even more excitement.

"Well," he said, grinning, "shall we start that tour, then, 'just Frankie'?"

"Lead the way, Quinn."

As they turned and began to walk through the market together, side by side, Frankie felt a lightness that had been missing for so long. And she allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to live like this normally.

Quinn showed her everything--the quiet back gardens of the town's inn, where flowers grew wild and fragrant; the bakery where the owner let her sample fresh pastries; the hidden creek just beyond the town, where they walked barefoot along the edge of the water.

Every place they visited had its own small charm, a piece of the world Quinn knew so well, and Frankie was mesmerized. Her world was expanding with every story he told and every laugh they shared. It was a freedom she'd only dreamed of.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, they found themselves in a quiet clearing outside the village. They sat on a fallen log, listening to the rustling of the leaves in the wind.

"It must be nice," Frankie finally said, looking out at the trees. "To have this kind of life. To belong to a place like this."

"It has its charms," he agreed. "But I don't think it's as simple as it seems. I have my own responsibilities, even if they're different from yours. Sometimes you don't need a crown to feel trapped by what people expect of you."

Frankie glanced at him, surprised by his honesty. "I suppose you're right. I sometimes think... maybe it doesn't matter who you are. Everyone has a role to play, whether they chose it or not."

Quinn nodded. "But at least you're out here. Maybe that's a sign that you want something different. Something... real."

"I think you might be right," she murmured. "Thank you, Quinn. I mean it."

He reached out, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers brushing against her cheek. For a breathless moment, they were both still, each daring to imagine something beyond the lives they'd known.

"You're welcome, Frankie," he whispered. "Anytime."

The forst clearing outside the village was quiet, except for the leaves and the occasional call of a bird in the distant. Frankie and Quinn sat together on the soft grass, a small spread of bread, cheese, apples between them, a makeshift picnic Frankie had prepared in secret before leaving the palace again. She didn't know what had made her brave enough to bring it--perhaps her desire to spend just a few more moments in his world instead of hers.

"Not much of a royal feast, I'm afraid," she said, laughing as she held up a piece of bread.

Quinn accepted it with a grin. "For someone who's 'just Frankie,' I'd say it's perfect." He took a bite, savouring it as if it were the finest meal. "Besides, it's not every day I get lunch with the princess. I mean... with Frankie."

She chuckled, though she felt a thrill each time he spoke her name, as if it were a secret shared only between them. She lay back in the grass, stretching her legs and looking up at the patches of sky between the treetops. Quinn joined her, lying down, his head tilted to watch the clouds drift by.

"You know," he began, after a few minutes of silence, "you never told me why you started sneaking out of the palace. Not that I'm complaining about it, of course," he added quickly, giving her a lopsided smile.

She paused, gathering her thoughts. "I just... needed to feel free. The palace is so beautiful, but it's also... confining. Every moment, every decision, it's all made for me, like the path of my life was laid out long before I even had the chance to imagine anything else."

She turned her head, meeting his gaze. "Out here, I can be someone else. Not a princess, not the king's daughter. Just... me."

"I think I understand. Growing up in the village I've had people tell me who I'm supposed to be, too. What I should become." He shrugged, staring at his roughened hands.

Frankie smiled, comforted by his words. It was something she'd never shared with anyone--not even Alice, though Alice likely understood more than anyone. She reached out, her fingers brushing his hand, as if she could draw strength from his touch.

"Thank you, Quinn."

He turned his hand over, his fingers entwining with hers. "For what?"

"For letting me be me. I don't think you know how much it means to me."

Their eyes met and the world around them started to fade. The line between their lives disappeared, and she found wondering if maybe--just maybe--she could have this. A life where she was more than just her title. A life where she could be someone like Quinn.

But the thoughts felt too dangerous, too tender and fragile, like a spark that could go out at any moment. She looked away, her face flushing. Yet, she didn't pull her hand from his.

"Frankie," Quinn murmured. "I think... I feel the same way."

She didn't dare move, her heart caught with the knowledge that this was more than just a simple friendship. This was something else, something deep and precious--and terribly risky.

But lying with Quinn in the clearing, she decided that some risks were worth taking.

Back at the palace, Frankie tried to carry on as usual, performing her duties, attending dinners, and studying the various treaties her father was eager to discuss with her. But her mind lingered on those stolen moments with Quinn, on the way his hand felt in hers, the gentle way he listened to her. She felt lighter. She was carrying a secret so precious that she wouldn't trade it for anything.

But that feeling grew harder to hold onto as her father's plans began to solidify. King Eric had summoned her to his study one evening, a summons she knew would not bring good news.

Frankie took a deep breath and knocked on the heavy oak door, the quiet creak that followed her entry filled her with unease. Her father was seated at his desk, papers and maps spread across the surface. His face was set in its usual stern expression, his fingers tapping impatiently as he gestured for her to sit.

"Francesca," he began, folding his hands over the papers before him. "I've made a decision about your future. It's time to take your rightful place in securing the future of our kingdom."

She swallowed, her hands twisting in her lap. She had heard this line before, but something about the look in his eyes filled her with dread. "My rightful place?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "The alliance with Lathora has been in negotiation for some time now. Their prince--Prince Edmond--will make a fine match for you. The marriage will bring stability to both kingdoms and ensure our people are secure for generations to come."

Her heart sank at his words. She'd heard her father discuss the prospect of alliances before, but never with such finality. She felt a surge of panic, her fingers clenching as she fought to keep her composure.

"Father, I..." she hesitated, searching for the right words. "I understand the importance of alliances, but perhaps there's another way. A marriage--"

"Is not negotiable," he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. "I am not blind, Francesca. I see the way you slip from your duties, sneaking off into the village like a commoner. You are a princess--one day a queen. It's time you understand your life is not your own. Your choices affect the entire kingdom."

Frankie looked away, her throat tight. She wanted to tell him about Quinn, to show him that what she'd found was worth more than every alliance, that her happiness could be valuable too. But she knew it would fall on deaf ears.

"Yes, Father," she forced herself to nod.

"Good." He straightened, satisfied with her compliance, and shuffled the papers in front of him. "Prince Edmond will arrive within the month. I expect you to show him the respect and hospitality befitting a future queen."

Late that night, after her father's announcement, Frankie sat by the windows in her chambers, her heart heavy. The palace walls, once merely confining, now felt suffocating. She couldn't bear the thought of marrying a man she barely knew, let alone someone she didn't love.

As if sensing her turmoil, Alice slipped into the room. She had a knack for appearing at the right time, and this was no exception.

"Frankie?" Alice's voice was soft as she approached. "You look troubled, dear."

"It's my father. He's... he's arranged a marriage for me. To a prince from Lathora. It's final--there's no way out."

Alice sat beside her, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I thought something like this might happen. But I had hoped he would see that you're still young, that you deserve a chance to find happiness on your own terms."

A tear slipped down Frankie's cheek, and she quickly brushed it away. "Alice, I don't want this. I don't want him. There's... someone else."

"Quinn?" she asked quietly.

Frankie nodded, unable to hide the longing in her eyes. "He's... he's everything I never thought I could have. He listens to me, sees me--not as the princess, as me. And I know... I know I could be happy with him. Truly happy."

Alice squeezed her hand. "Then, my dear, you owe it to yourself to fight for that happiness."

"But how? My father would never understand. And Quinn... he's a commoner. Father would never allow that."

Alice was silent for a moment, then gave her a gentle smile. "Some things are worth the risk, Frankie. Love is one of those things."

The words lingered and stirred a flicker of hope in Frankie's heart.

The grand meeting hall was dressed to the nines. Banners bearing the royal crest hung from the towering stone walls, and the crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow across the table set with gleaming silverware and fine china.

At the far end of the room, Frankie stood with her father, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. She'd been in formal attire countless times, but today her tiara felt heavier, its sharp edges pressing into her temples. She glanced at her father, who was watching the door with a look of satisfaction, and she couldn't shake the growing dread within her.

"Stand tall, Francesca," he murmured. "Today is important. The kingdom's future depends on it."

She swallowed thickly, straightening her shoulders as the doors opened to reveal Prince Edmond. He was a nobleman, that was for sure. Tall and fair, with a solemn expression and regal posture. Dressed in royal blue and silver, he carried himself with an air of practiced decorum, bowing slightly to her father before moving his gaze to Frankie.

"Princess Francesca," he greeted, extending his hand to her. His tone was formal, his words rehearsed. "It is an honour."

Frankie forced a smile and took his hand, allowing him to lead her to the table. Advisors exchanged approving glances as they sat, and her father looked on with unmistakable pride.

Dinner began, and Frankie found herself struggling to follow the stiff conversation. Edmond seemed nice enough, but he hardly spoke beyond polite small talk and formal questions. He was painfully proper, never once breaking his composure or expressing anything remotely personal.

"Princess, I hear that your kingdom is renowned for its gardens," he remarked between bites, his tone void of warmth. "I would be delighted to take a tour."

"Yes, of course," Frankie replied, trying to match his formality. "Our gardens are... nice."

She felt like a stranger in her own life. She was a performer playing a role that didn't belong to her. Every forced smile, every polite reply, drained her more. With each moment she felt herself drifting further and further from the person she was with Quinn.

She looked around the room, catching Alice's sympathetic gaze from the far end of the room. Her maid offered her a warm, encouraging smile, and Frankie felt a pang of gratitude. But even Alice's support couldn't shake the ugly feeling she had.

As the dinner dragged on, Frankie found herself longing for the forest clearing, the bustling streets of the village, and Quinn's gentle smile. She wondered what he was doing at that very moment, likely enjoying a meal with his family, laughing happily.

Just as she thought she could endure no more, the dinner came to an end. Edmond rose and gave another polite bow, his expression unreadable. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess Francesca. I look forward to continuing our... alliance."

"Likewise, Prince Edmond."

As people began to leave the hall, her father took her by the arm, his grip firm. He led her to a quiet corner. "You did well tonight, Francesca. Prince Edmond is an ideal match. Solid, dependable, and the alliance will secure the future of our kingdom."

Frankie wanted to protest, to tell him that there was more to life than alliances and duty, that there were things she couldn't find in a forced marriage. But she knew better than to voice those thoughts.

"Yes, Father."

"Good," he patted her on the arm. "We'll continue with the arrangements. Soon, you'll see that this was the right path."

As he left, Frankie glanced at Alice again, who had quietly made her way over. "Not quite the fairy tale, is it?" the maid mumbled.

"No, not quite."

"Come, I'll take you back to your chambers. And I've got something for you--someone left a note."

Her father's expectations and Prince Edmond's impersonal formality faded into the background as she clutched the note that Alice handed her. With trembling hands, she unfolded it, soft handwriting scrawled across the page:

Stay strong, Frankie. I'll be waiting

The words were simple, but they filled her with courage. She would stay strong. For herself. For Quinn. For the future she really wanted. She would stay strong.

The moon was bright as Frankie slipped through the palace gates and made her way to the forest clearing. She needed to feel free, even if it was only for a few minutes. After hours of gross formalities, she couldn't bare the idea of returning to her chambers. She needed to see Quinn, to be near someone who saw her as more than just a bargaining piece in her father's plans.

When she reached the clearing, she found him waiting, his familiar silhouette illuminated by the glow of the moon. Quinn sat on their fallen log, staring at the stars above, lost in thought. At the sound of her footsteps, he looked up, a smile on his face.

"Frankie," he said quietly, standing to meet her. "I wasn't sure you'd come tonight."

"I had to." Without thinking, she closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around him, seeking comfort in his embrace. Quinn barely hesitated before returning it, holding her close. She could feel his heartbeat, steady and reassuring, and she could finally breathe.

They stood like that for a while, until Frankie pulled back, looking up into his eyes. "It's hopeless, Quinn. My father has decided everything for me. There's a prince--Prince Edmond. He's the one my father has chosen for me. The one I'm suppoesed to marry."

The words tasted bitter on her tongue, and she saw Quinn's face darken, his expression pained.

"Prince Edmond. And you're just supposed to accept it? No choice?"

She shook her head. "That's the way it's always been. To my father, marriage is a contract--a way to secure power and strengthen alliances. He doesn't see it as anything more."

"So, that's it then?" Quinn looked at the ground. "You'll marry this prince, while I... I go back to being a commoner with nothing to offer you?"

The pain in his voice cut through her, and she held his hand tightly. "Quinn, please. You have to know none of that matters to me. Titles, crowns, alliances--none of it matters when I'm with you." She looked into his eyes, her voice pleading. "You're the only one who makes me feel like I'm more than a princess. With you, I can just be myself."

"But, Frankie... what can I give you that someone like him can't?"

"You've already given me everything," her voice broke. "You give me the freedom to be myself. To be... happy."

Frankie could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between his feelings for her and his fear that he could never be enough. She could feel her heart breaking at the thought of losing him.

Finally, unable to bear the distance between them, she reached up, cupping his face in her hands as she whispered, "Please, Quinn. Don't pull away from me. Not now."

Slowly, he raised his hand, covering hers. He drew her closer, his forehead resting against hers, their breaths mixing. "I'll try, Frankie. For you... I'll try."

She leaned up, pressing her lips to his in a gentle kiss, one that quickly turned desperate. Slowly, they sank down to the forest floor, their fingers intertwined.

"Stay with me tonight?" she whispered.

"Yeah, let's forget about the rest of the world for a bit."

Just them, beneath the stars, in a world where only they existed.

Frankie stood by the window, focused on the gardens below, though her mind was far from the flowers and fountains stretching across the grounds. The dinner with Prince Edmond still lingered in her head, a reminder of the life her father wanted her to live--bound by duty and sacrifice, devoid of choice. She just clung to the fragile hope that somehow, she and Quinn could find a way to be together.

She didn't hear the door open until her father's voice broke her from her daydreaming.

"Francesca, I have news."

She turned, hiding the worry that twisted her stomach.

"The negotiations with Lathora have failed," he announced, his voice clipped. "Prince Edmond's advisors were unreasonable in their demands, and I will not tolerate such arrogance, not even at the sake of an alliance."

"I see," Frankie replied, her worry replaced by excitement. "Then... there will be no alliance?"

"For now, no. But rest assured, we will find a suitable match. I will not allow this kingdom's future to remain vulnerable."

He studied her, searching for resistance, but she just nodded. She nodded like she always did when her father told her something. She nodded and it made her feel weak. "Of course, Father. I trust you'll make the best decision for the kingdom."

"Good. I have already reached out to another kingdom. Prince Trevor is well-regarded, and his kingdom is both powerful and influential. He's charming, highly capable, and exactly the sort of match we need."

And just like that, the excitement she felt dimmed. Prince Trevor. She'd heard stories of him--a confident, bold young man with a reputation for his charm. Unlike Prince Edmond, who had shown no personal interest in her, Prince Trevor was rumoured to have his own reasons for a royal match, and her father had always spoken highly of him and his father's kindgom.

"He will arrive within the week. Prepare yourself. Remember... respect and warmth befitting of a queen."

Frankie sank back onto the velvet-cushioned bench by the window. Her brief hope was dashed, replaced by dread at the thought of yet another arranged meeting, another prince who would see her as only a political prize.

"What is it, dear?" Alice slipped into the room, a freshly cleaned nightgown in her arms.

"Prince Trevor. Another visit. He's supposed to be a good... match for me."

"Another suitor already? That was fast."

Frankie nodded, a bitter laugh leaving her throat. "Apparently, the kingdom's future can't afford any delay. I thought... maybe I'd have more time between suitors. But now it's worse--this prince, Trevor... he's everything Father could want."

"Time is precious, dear. And it sounds like you'll have to make the most of what you have."

"I just wish... I wish I could talk to Quinn. He's the only one who understands."

"Then talk to him. Don't let this prince or anyone else stop you from finding what matters."

She would talk to Quinn. Make the most of the time she had--no matter what her father's plan was.

Carriages rolled through the gates, flanked by royal guards. Frankie stood up straight and tall as the entourage approached. It took everything in her to maintain the mask of dutiful obedience.

In the lead carriage, a young man stepped out, tall and impeccably dressed in rich, dark fabrics embroided with the crest of another kingdom. His presence was immediately striking--confident and sharp. His blond hair caught the sun, and he wore a self-assured smile.

He crossed the courtyard easily, bowing deeply before the king. "Your Majesty. Thank you for inviting me to your kingdom. It is an honour."

"Prince Trevor," King Eric replied. "We are delighted to have you here. Please, allow me to introduce my daughter, Princess Francesca."

Frankie dipped into a small curtsy, keeping her gaze neutral. To her surprise, Trevor offered her a grin, one that felt genuine and a bit too confident. He took her hand and bowed over it, never taking his eyes off hers in way that made her feel exposed.

"Princess Francesca, I must admit, I was eager to meet you."

"Welcome, Prince Trevor. I trust your journey was pleasant?"

"It was long," he replied with a small chuckle. "But well worth it, if it means meeting such... esteemed company."

King Eric seemed pleased with the exchange, just as he had with Prince Edmond. "Good, good. Let us retire to the main hall. I trust you two will have much to discuss."

Frankie found herself side-by-side with Trevor as they followed her father, his presence uncomfortably close. The palace staff had arranged for refreshments in the main hall, where soft music played, and light filtered through the stained-glass windows.

Trevor leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only her to hear. "I've heard many things about you, Princess. But none of them seem to capture the... charm of your presence."

Frankie didn't sense any malice in his words--if anything, he seemed genuinely interested in her. But there was a smugness, an unspoken assumption that made her wary,

"Thank you, Your Highness."

"Oh, please," he waved her off dismissively. "There's no need for such formality between us. Call me Trevor."

"Very well, Trevor."

They took their seats in the centre of the room, and as refreshments were brought in, Trevor continued talking. He talked about his kingdom, his travels, his fondness for sports, even sharing an amusing story about an ill-fated hunting trip that had everyone laughing and nodding along.

Trevor was charming--she couldn't deny that. But it was the practiced charm of someone who knew his own worth, who was accustomed to admiration. It only made her think about how different he was tha Quinn, whose honesty was comforting and not... whatever this was.

After a while, Trevor turned the conversation to Frankie. "And tell me, Princess, how do you spend your time in the palace? Surely you must find ways to escape the routine of court life."

"I do enjoy some time in the gardens and reading in the library. Occasionally, I take walks beyond the palace grounds."

"Beyond the grounds?" he raised an eyebrow. "You must be quite adventerous, then. I'm impressed."

"I enjoy the fresh air," she said simply, hoping to deflect his interest.

But Trevor grew even more curious, and he leaned closer. "Perhaps you could show me these spots. I would love to see more of the kingdom--from a local's perspective, of course."

"Perhaps," she replied, though she knew it was unlikely she would bring him to her favourite spots.

Finally, the gathering drew to a close, and Trevor turned to her. "Thank you for your time, Princess. I look forward to seeing you more during my stay." His words held an unspoken promise as he took her hand once more, pressing a kiss to it.

She forced a smile, but it was hollow. Why did her dad get a say in her life and she didn't?

Quinn walked alone, his thoughts heavy. News of Prince Trevor's arrival had swept through the kingdom, carried by rumours and whispers that painted him as the perfect suitor for the beautiful Princess Francesca. Quinn had heard the villagers speak about Trevor's charm, his looks, his power. He was everything a princess could want, everything Quinn felt he was not.

He shook his head, pushing back the growing ache in his chest as he made his way to their forest clearing. He knew Frankie would be waiting for him, but he wasn't sure what he'd say. The thought of her standing beside a prince, a man who could give her the security and life she deserved, made him feel helpless. He could he compete with that?

He found her there, sitting on their log, her face lighting up when she saw him. She rose, coming to meet him, her arms reaching out to pull him close. But he took a step back, his hands tucked in his pockets, his gaze fixed on his shoes.

"Quinn?" Her voice was soft, confused. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, I just... I heard the news. About Prince Trevor."

She hesitated, her expression turning guarded as she nodded. "Yes, he arrived today."

Her confirmation made his fists clench in jealousy. "So, he's... he's the new one, then? The prince your father wants you to marry?"

Frankie reached out, her hand resting on his arm. "My father thinks he's the right choice. But I don't."

He shook his head, pulling his arm away, and looked past her. "Frankie, I'm not... I can't compete with him. Or with any prince. I'm just... me."

She stepped closer, reaching for his hands, her eyes pleading. "Quinn, don't say that. You're everything to me."

He let her take his hands, but his grip was loose, uncertain. "Maybe you think that now, but I'm not blind, Frankie. I know what you deserve. Someone who can give you the life you're meant to have."

"But I don't want that life. Not if it means losing you."

Quinn looked down at their hands, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "But you deserve someone who can be by your side... someone who can stand with you, not behind you."

"Please, Quinn. Don't say that. Don't push me away."

"Frankie, I love you. I love you more than anything. But maybe... maybe loving you means letting you go. So you can have the life you were born to have."

He was saying what she'd feared all along--that he felt he wasn't enough for her, that he would only hold her back. Tears pricked at her eyes, and she could no longer keep her voice steady. "So, that's it? You're giving up on us?"

He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw tightening. "I don't want to, but I can't ignore reality, Frankie. You're a princess. And I'm..."

"Don't," she interrupted. "Please, don't finish that sentence."

The quiet of the forest around them was thick with tension. She wanted to scream, to beg him to stay, to make him see that he was the only one for her. But his resolve was unshaken despite the pain in his eyes.

"If you leave, Quinn... I don't know what I'll do."

"I'm sorry, Frankie. I wish... I wish things were different."

He turned, his figure retreating back towards the village, and Frankie watched, tears streaming down her face as the one person she loved more than anything disappeared into the night.

Frankie felt numb. She stood by the stone fountain in the garden, watching the water cascade over the edges. The fresh air did little to ease the weight of her heartbreak.

Quinn's words cut at her heart like sharp blades. She could still feel his hands in hers, see the sadness in his features as he said goodbye. How could she even begin to think about marrying someone else when her heart was in a million little pieces?

However, she couldn't afford to avoid Trevor forever, though the thought of pretending to be interested in him felt almost unbearable.

"Princess Francesca?"

Trevor walked over, his charming smile in place. She forced a polite smile, hoping it didn't look as strained as it felt.

"Prince Trevor. I didn't expect to see you out here."

He chuckled, coming to stand beside her by the fountain. "Oh, I've always been a fan of gardens. My mother keeps one back home, though I'll admit, yours puts ours to shame."

Frankie glanced at him, uncertain of how to respond. Why did he care so much?

"You looked lost in thought," he continued, studying her face. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything... important?"

"No, just... enjoying the peace."

Trevor nodded. "I suppose a princess doesn't get much of that, does she? Not with all the demands, the expectations, the responsibilities..."

She glanced at him, trying to gauge his intentions. "You seem to know a lot about it."

He shrugged, folding his hands behind his back as he looked out over the garden. "My life may be different from yours, but it's also very similar. I get what it's like to have your path laid out for you. But I've always believed that duty and happiness don't have to be mutually exclusive."

His words were well-spoken, maybe there was more to him than she'd assumed.

"Your father told me much about you, Princess," his tone dropped to a more personal level. "But I'll admit, I really didn't expect you to be so... captivating."

She tensed, feeling her face flush. "You don't know me, Prince Trevor. Not really."

"Not yet," he remained undeterred. "But I'd like to. I see something in you, Princess. A strength. A desire to be more than what others expect of you."

She wanted to tell him that he was wrong, that her heart was already spoken for, that the life she wanted was far from the one he was offering her. But she bit her tongue, knowing it would only complicate things further.

"You think you see me. But there's more to me than... strength."

"Than show me, Francesca. Show me who you are."

"I appreciate your... interest, Prince Trevor. But I don't think I'm what you're looking for."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I... I already know who I am. And I'm afraid I may not be able to meet the expectations that you or my father have for me."

To her surprise, Trevor's smile only grew. "Perhaps that's exactly why I'm here, Princess. To help you realize that duty and desire can coexist."

She didn't respond and he gave her a respectful nod. "I'll give you time, Francesca. I'm not here to force anything--only to show you that it's possible."

With a deep sigh, she looked to the edge of the garden, where the forest stretched out for miles and miles. She wished she could run to Quinn, that she could hold him despite her world falling apart. But for now, all she could do was stand there and listen to Trevor's footsteps as he retreated back into the castle.

The day had been exhausting--her father's pointed glances during the afternoon, Trevor's persistent charm, and the unshakable ache in her heart left by Quinn's absence. She was stretched thin with no clear way out.

She found Alice waiting for her in her chambers, preparing the room for the night.

"Oh my! You look exhausted! Come, sit!"

Frankie sat heavily on the edge of her bed, running a hand over her face as she struggled to keep her composure.

"What's troubling you now, Frankie? You're going to give yourself a heartattack."

Frankie was unsure of where to begin. But as she looked at Alice, the words began to spill out, her voice barely a whisper. "It's... everything, Alice. My father, Prince Trevor... and Quinn. I... I love him, Alice. But it feels like everything in the world is trying to tear us apart."

Alice nodded.

"Trevor won't give up and Father loves him. He's so certain that he can make this work, that I'll come to accept it. But I can't... I can't just pretend my heart isn't with someone else."

"And what does Quinn think of all this?"

"He... he think he's not enough. That he can't give me what I need or deserve. He said... he said maybe it would be better if we didn't see each other."

"The heart can be a stubborn thing, Frankie. It often tells us we aren't worthy of people we love most."

"But he is worthy, Alice. He's everything I could want. Kind, honest, and loves me for me and not my title."

"Be brave, Frankie. Like I've said a million times before, be brave."

"What if... what if I can't convince him?"

"Then you'll know you tried. But don't bear a life of regret."

"You're right. You're always right."

"That's what I'm here for, no? Now, get some sleep. You need it," she pulled back the blankets, a smile on her face.

"Thanks, Alice."

"Let me know how it goes," the maid winked before retreating into the hallway, leaving Frankie to figure out how to win back the love of her life.

Frankie held her head in her hands. For days she had felt a deep fatigue that tugged at her bones, combined with spells of nausea and dizziness that seemed to come and go. She had tried to dismiss it, assuming it was the stress of her upcoming marriage to Prince Trevor and the heartbreak of losing Quinn.

"I always feel like I'm asking you what's wrong nowadays," Alice said, approaching with a warm cup of tea.

Frankie smiled, taking the cup in her hands. "I... I don't know, Alice. I just feel... strange. Tired, and unsteady." She paused, a wave of dizziness overcoming her, and took a sip of tea in an attempt to steady herself.

"Forgive me, but... have you considered there might be another reason for this feeling?"

Another reason? Frankie looked up, and the implications of her confidante dawned on her. She felt the room shift around her as the realization struck her like a bolt of lightning.

"Alice... you don't mean...?"

"It's possible, isn't it, dear? You've been feeling unwell, and it's not uncommon for these symptoms to appear under such... circumstances."

Frankie gasped, setting her tea aside. The memories of her night with Quinn flashed before her and her hand drifted to her abdomen.

"Alice... could I really be..." She couldn't finish the sentence. She couldn't speak it into existence.

"There's only one way to know for sure. Shall I walk down with you?"

Frankie could only nod. The palace daughter only worked a couple days a week, but luckily for her today was one of those days. Alice stood with her while the doctor moved around the room, poking and proding the princess. Eventually, he came to his conclusion.

"You're with child."

"It's true then," Frankie whispered. "I'm..."

This child was a symbol of her love for Quinn--a precious connection that bound them together. But as the joy she felt settled, it was quickly replaced by fear. What would her father say? How would he react when he learned the princess was carrying the child of a commoner?

"What am I going to do? My father... he'll be furious. He'll never accept this."

"Francesca, I know this is frightening. But this child is a part of the love that you share with Quinn. Whatever happens, you are not alone."

"What would I do without you?"

"You have the courage to face this, for you and your baby."

Frankie nodded. She would face her father, tell him the truth, and hope that somehow, he would understand. She would protect her baby--no matter the cost.

Frankie took a long breath before she nodded to the butler to open the door to the throne room for her. She knew her face gave away her terror, but she had to face this moment for the sake of her child.

Her father was a solitary figure on the far side of the room. He was seated on his throne, reviewing a parchment with intense focus. He looked up, raising an eyebrow at her sudden entrance.

"Francesca. This is unexpected. What brings you here?"

Her courage wavered under his intense stare. But she felt a surge of strength at the idea that she could live a happy life with her child and Quinn. She looked her father directly in the eyes, inhaling sharply.

"Father, I need to speak with you. It's... it's important."

King Eric's eyes narrowed, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. "Very well, Francesca. What is it? You seem rather... grave."

"I... I have something to tell you. Something that I know you won't be pleased to hear." Her voice trembled, but she pushed on. "I am... carrying a child, Father. Quinn's child."

For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of shock in his eyes, but it quickly vanished, replaced by a cold, piercing stare that made her feel small and insignificant.

"What did you say?"

"I am with child. The child is Quinn's. I... I love him, Father. I know this isn't what you wanted, but I had to tell you. This... is very important to me."

King Eric's hands clenched around the arms of his throne, his face growing hard with anger. He rose slowly, his gaze dark as he approached her. "Francesca," his tone was laced with fury, "do you understand what you have done? You, a princess, have disgraced this family by carrying the child of a commoner! You have risked everything I have worked to build--all for a fleeting, foolish romance!"

Tears stung her eyes, but she held her ground, unwilling to back down. "It's not foolish, Father. I love him. I want him to be part of my life."

"Love? This is not about love, Francesca. This is about duty. About securing the future of this kingdom! Do you realize the scandal this could bring upon us? The disgrace? No one can know of this--no one."

"Father, please. This baby is a part of our family. Can't you see that?"

"Leave! I don't want to speak with you about this further!"

Frankie didn't let her sobs escape her until she'd left the room, running the rest of the way to her chambers. She shoved her head in her pillow, screaming. How could he be so cruel?

It had only been a day since their confrontation and her father had summoned her to his study. She tried to imagine what he could possibly want from her now, after everything he'd said.

She entered the room to find her father seated at his desk. Behind him stood two advisors and, to her surprise, Prince Trevor himself. The prince gave her a sympathetic nod as she entered, but she could sense the tension beneath his charm, as if he, too, were uncomfortable.

"Francesca. Sit."

Reluctantly, she sat across from him, stealing a glance at Trevor, who looked back at her with the same strange, calm expression. Whatever her father was about to say was definitely not going to be in her favour.

"After careful consideration, and after consulting with Prince Trevor and his advisors," the king began, "I have decided on the final plan that will secure our alliance and protect the reputation of our family."

Frankie knew whatever was coming was something monumental, something inescapable.

"You will marry Prince Trevor. And once the child is born, it will be recognized as his legitimate heir. This will satisfy the alliance and protect the throne from any scandal."

"Father... you cannot mean this," she whispered, her voice trembling. "You would have me marry someone I do not love and raise my child as if it belonged to another man?"

Trevor stepped forward. "Princess, please understand that I hold you in the highest respect. This is not a decision I take lightly, but as prince, it is my duty to my people to align with your father's wishes. It would be a... practical arrangement. One that serves us both."

Frankie looked at him, desperation filling her eyes. "And you agree to this? To pretend this child is yours? To live a lie?"

"If it means peace for our people, then yes. Sometimes duty requires us to make sacrifices."

"But this child is not yours, and I am not yours. I... I am bound to someone else, someone who loves me for who I am."

King Eric's face darkened as he listened to her protests, his patience wearing thin. "You are a princess, Francesca. Have you forgotten that? This marriage is not a matter of choice, it's a matter of duty. You will do what is expected of you."

She looked to Trevor again, but he looked away, his silence confirming his compliance. The future she'd envisioned with Quinn was slipping further and further from her grasp.

"What about my baby? What about the truth?"

"Your child will be the future heir, protected by the alliance forged through this marriage. You must set aside your personal attachments, Francesca. This is a sacrifice you will make."

Her father and Trevor had reduced her love, her future, and even her child's identity to nothing more than a means to an end. "Yes, Father. I understand."

"Good. This is for the best, Francesca. One day, you will see that."

She would not betray her love for Quinn, nor would she let her child's life be built off lies. She would find a way out.

The palace was beautiful, with tapestries of gold and crimson adorning the walls and rows of white lillies lining the grand hall, their scent filling the air. Candles in chandaliers flickered above the gathered nobility and dignitaries. It was a sight fit for a royal wedding--a vision of perfection that would make any bride squeal. But Frankie only felt numb with dread.

Dressed in an ivory gown and a veil that trailed behind her like mist, she walked down the aisle on her father's arm. King Eric's face was stern but proud, as if the spectacle he had crafted would hide her sorrow. Frankie kept her head high, but her thoughts were miles away--on the life she would never have, on the man she loved, on the future that was being stolen from her.

At the end of the aisle waited Prince Trevor, standing tall in his ceremonial attire, his expression as neutral as it had been in the meeting. He, too, was playing his part in this theatre. Trevor was bound by duty.

The king's voice was low as he released her hand, a final, whispered warning. "Remember, Francesca. For the kingdom. Do what must be done."

She nodded, standing beside Trevor as the officiant began the ceremony, her gaze distant. This was the final nail in the coffin that was her life.

Quinn sat hunched over a letter in his bedroom, his eyes fixed on Alice's handwriting. The truth hit him like a punch to the gut. Frankie was pregnant with his child. She had been forced into a marriage to protect the kingdom.

Setting the letter down, Quinn rose to his feet, his face pale. He couldn't let this happen. He wouldn't allow her to be trapped in a loveless marriage with his child by her side. Without another thought, he left his home, running through the streets toward the palace, each step fuelled by desperation.

The officiant continued, his voice steady as he reached the vows. Frankie could feel the weight of Trevor's hand resting on hers, but the rest of her body felt numb... frozen.

Just then, the heavy doors to the grand hall swung open with a loud crash, and commotion erupted among the guards. Heads turned in shock as Quinn stormed into the room, his voice ringing out as he called her name.

"FRANKIE!"

Gasps rippled through the crowd, and the guards hurried to interept him, grabbing his arms to restrain him. But Quinn struggled against them, his eyes fixed on Frankie.

"Let me go!" he shouted. "I need to speak to her! Frankie, don't do this!"

Frankie's composure shattered as she saw him fighting against the guards. Her eyes filled with tears, "Father, please let him speak."

"Remove him. He has no place here."

The guards began to drag Quinn back, but he resisted, his voice desperate as ever. "Frankie, don't let them do this to you! You don't have to live this lie! I love you!"

Frankie felt a surge of defiance--a fierce determination to claim the life she wanted, even if it meant forsaking everything she'd ever known. But then, her father gripped her arm, his voice a harsh whisper. "Don't let him make a fool of you, Francesca. This is your duty. Your responsibility to all the people of the kingdom."

Her heart screamed for her to run with Quinn, to escape, but her father's will and the many eyes on her held her back.

"Remove him! This wedding will proceed!" King Eric's voice boomed.

"Frankie, please! You don't have to do this!"

"Let's... let's finish," she whispered.

Quinn was dragged out and the doors shut. The officiant resumed as if nothing had happened and before she knew it she was officially married to Prince Trevor.

The festivities were over, and the palace was dark and quiet. Frankie was wearing the stupid white nightgown she had been forced to wear. She knew this day had been Hell. She knew Quinn was worth the sacrifices and she should've gone with him.

A soft knock sounded at her door, and Alice slipped in holding a small bundle. "It's time, my lady," she whispered with urgency.

Frankie nodded, rising from her bed and taking Alice's hands. "Thank you, Alice. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."

"You can repay me by finding happiness. Now, hurry. I've packed some things for you--just the essentials."

She draped a dark cloak over Frankie's shoulders and tucked the hood around her face, obscuring her features.

"If... if he ever asks, tell my father that this was my choice. That I left willingly."

"You've made the right choice, Princess. This child deserves a life of love and freedom--and so do you."

Frankie blinked back tears, then turned toward the narrow servant's door that Alice had left ajar. Silently, she slipped through the gardens scanning the edge of the woods for any shadows. She prayde that Quinn had received the message that Alice had sent him earlier that evening.

A figure emerged from the trees and she could've died from happiness. He moved forward, in disbelief that she was standing in front of him.

"Frankie," he whispered. "I didn't think... I thought..."

She silenced him with a kiss, her eyes filling with tears. "I couldn't stay, Quinn. I couldn't live that life, not when I knew what we could have together. I chose you. I chose us."

"We... We'll go far from here. Somewhere safe, somewhere we can be free."

"I don't care where we go, as long as we're together."

With one last look at the palace, the place she'd spent her entire life, Frankie turned her back on it, taking Quinn's hand as they disappeared into the forest, leaving behind the world of royalty and expectations. Together they were stepping into the unknown, choosing love and the promise of a new beginning.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine

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mc-lukanette · 2 days ago

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Luka knew that Marinette was Ladybug. Actually, he'd known for a while. What he didn't know was how long Marinette had known that he knew.

She didn't tell him so, but he saw it in how she reacted to him. She didn't feel as much need for excuses, often not saying anything before racing off as soon as there were signs of an akuma. He hadn't particularly done anything to dissuade the idea that he knew either, partly because it was true but also because he wasn't sure what to do with the information himself.

When he was certain she knew was a day on the Liberty where he'd found her idling on her phone. The other girls had headed up onto the deck, but Marinette had remained in the lounge room for whatever reason and he was genuinely curious about it.

"What are you doing?" he asked, stepping up to her and slipping his hands into his pockets.

"Luka!" She giggled innocently. "I didn't know you were here! You weren't playing anything."

"I was meditating," he said, though eyed her body language with suspicion. Her logic for not knowing he was around checked out, but he felt as if she wasn't telling the truth. He only ignored it because he couldn't figure out why she would lie about it.

"Oh. I'm just playing a new game that came out." She raised her phone as close to his face as she could.

He noted the main menu and the characters strewn about, recognizing them instantly as the superheroes that fought against akuma, such as Ladybug and even himself. He tilted his head to look past the phone at her, asking, "What's it about?"

She scooched to the side despite the already available space on the couch, then patted the spot where she'd been sitting. He wasn't a big fan of gaming himself, but he was a big fan of Marinette, so he sat in the spot she'd offered up and listened intently to her talk.

"You pick one character to start," she explained, indicating the various options on-screen, "and then the more levels you play, the more coins you get, and you can use it to buy upgrades or more characters."

"You buy characters?" He blinked.

She laughed, giving him a playful nudge in the arm. "You really don't play games, do you?"

His heart stuttered as she squished herself against him, allowing both of them a decent view of her phone. She tapped at the screen to proceed to the actual game and he tried very hard to focus on that and not the warmth to his side.

"It helps when you get a second character. You can pair them up and go on for longer since it's two instead of just one," she explained as she scrolled through various menus.

Luka also tried to not focus on the phrase 'pair them up,' which wasn't difficult at first, but then he saw the character selection screen and—

"Ladybug and Viperion," he noted.

"Hm~?" She stopped scrolling to point at the two. "Yeah, they're the pair I have."

"Only Ladybug and Viperion." That still wasn't a proper sentence, so he clarified, "You only have Ladybug and Viperion."

"Oh." She uttered it like she hadn't known when she definitely did. "Yeah? You only need two, so why should I waste my coins on anyone else when I could spend it upgrading the pair I have?"

He could think of multiple reasons. He wasn't sure how the game worked, but he imagined that the superheroes still had different powers and there were benefits depending on which two were paired up.

As if reading his mind, Marinette tapped the top edge of her phone to her chin and insisted, "Viperion's underrated. His power's not flashy, but it's really useful and he's perfect for someone like Ladybug."

His cheeks felt warm. What she was saying sounded like a casual observation of efficiency, but her voice was singing a different tune. The playful sparkle in her blue eyes as she peered up at him supported that.

"Really?" he asked quietly.

"Mhm~" She looked down at her phone again, then turned it to him to show the Ladybug and Viperion on the screen. "Their colors are even complementary. Don't they look good together?"

Never mind. His face felt hot. She even wiggled the phone at him, her smile shy but her gaze not leaving his as she waited for an answer.

Was this a punishment of sorts? Was he being tormented for not saying that he knew her identity? Was she really asking him such a thing when she already knew his feelings? Had she planned this, and that's why she was alone?

He opened his mouth, then decided he needed another second to think and cleared his throat instead. "Wouldn't that be up to them?"

It seemed like an obvious answer, but her smile widened further as if he'd passed a test. He didn't think she was actually testing him, but something of his did certainly feel tested: his sanity.

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Marinette sighed, pulling away from him to slump against the backrest. Taking one more look at her phone and scrutinizing the image on the screen, she asked, "Do you think Viperion would be patient enough for someone like her?"

Caught off guard, he turned his body to better face her. "What?"

"For Ladybug. She must be busy since she's always dealing with akuma," she pointed out, waving a hand outwards, "so they wouldn't be able to date until she's dealt with Hawk Moth."

For a second, he thought she was continuing to tease him, but then it clicked for him what she was building to. She'd been playful, yet was using the conversation to tell him that they wouldn't be able to date.

Which meant that she reciprocated, something his brain was still scrambling to process, but she also felt like she couldn't act upon it due to Hawk Moth. Talking about Ladybug and Viperion as separate entities had been to keep things safe in case any of the girls returned while serving as a way of mentally distancing herself from it. It was an unpleasant realization to wrestle with against the delight of knowing that she felt the same as he did.

"I'm..." He reached over, slipping his hand over the one holding her phone. "I'm sure he wouldn't mind, no matter how busy she was."

To his confusion, she shook her head almost adamantly. He wondered if perhaps she was going to argue that 'Viperion' wouldn't mean it if he was to say such a thing, but she instead said, "I think Ladybug would want better for him than that; she'd want to be able to put herself into the relationship without Hawk Moth in the way." She stared at their hands on her phone with a soft smile. "Besides, I bet it'd be a motivator."

He leaned closer, noting how her voice had lowered in volume. "How?"

With a sheepish giggle, she replied, "Wouldn't Ladybug want to defeat Hawk Moth that much more if she knew the reward was getting to ask her future boyfriend out?"

His heart pounded, his hand on hers giving off a slight shake. What had started as a bit of joking around had grown into something more heartfelt and serious, with him suddenly wondering if Ladybug could use any of his input on how to best find out Hawk Moth's identity.

Chuckling affectionately yet with just as much longing as her, he promised, "If Ladybug is even half as amazing as he already thinks, Viperion will beat her to it when Hawk Moth's gone."

#queuekanette #lukaneventte: No Context November #Flower Arrangement Shipping #Pro LukaMari #Lukanette

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whomeidontknowthem · 20 hours ago

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That might be my favorite dynamic, actually?

In MOURN THEM (which is actually written and can be found on my blog) Niveth can easily be seen as Whumpee only because it's mostly her POV of the training process. But if you look at what's going on from the other's point of view, she is can be seen as Whumper: she does basically torture. Kills people. Really, really majorly fucks everything up for other people, intentionally so, and doesn't feel any remorse for the hurt she's caused, because by then she's too deep into programming to be aware of just negatively her actions have affected others.

If I end up writing a sequel with a recovery arc (which I might; I kinda have a few ideas), that would be the thing everyone would have to struggle most with: the sheer unforgivable harm she's caused. Yes, she has been conditioned. Yes, she was terrified and hurt. Yes, she had little choice. But it was still her actions, her decision that caused so much pain. How could she look in the eyes of Whumpee after what she's done to him? (Easily, actually, at least to begin with; see the whole "unable to recognize the harm".) How is Whumpee supposed to reconcile the broken trust and the hurt with the fact that she's been hurt, broken first?

From my unwritten as of yet story, the blinding gold, Sheeroh also fits the trope. Tho he's much angrier about it, not too broken to recognize pain as much as too tired to do anything about his recognition, too hurt and angry about that to not lash out, even if it's a completely wrong person he's lashing out on. He's Whumpee, undoubtedly, but at the same time he's Whumper, however reluctant, to Fal. One of her earliest memories is his murdering her parents (she doesn't know he was trying to escape torture when he did that). The next time they meet he tortures her (she'd nearly killed him, and he's a whole potent mix of terrified/hurt/triggered/hopeless, but she can't know that either).

That's a really, really fun dynamic to explore.

I’ve been lurking in the whump community (?) for a little while and I think everyone is pretty familiar with the idea of a living weapon whumpee.

But what I haven’t seen anyone talk about is a living weapon whumper?

This may not be a revolutionary concept, but I made an OC before I knew what whump was. I realized that he and my other OC fell into the typical whumper/whumpee roles, and he was always whumper. But I also realized that the whole living weapon trope totally applies to him as well.

So what about a living weapon whumper? Someone who’s been in conditioning since childhood and knows no other life than obeying their handler’s every command? Someone who doesn’t feel, because weapons don’t feel. Who has only ever known violence. Who has never had any sort of autonomy. What sort of monster does that turn them into?

I think it makes for a pretty interesting whumper. Thoughts?

#MOURN THEM #the blinding gold #whump #whump writing #living weapon whump

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mayasaurusss · 1 day ago

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TRANSFEM VIRGIN JACKIE TAYLOR X READER PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Transfem virgin Jackie Taylor blurbs

Contains: transfem Jackie, smut, 1700 k words blurb.

A/N: I'm so sorry to have delayed this for so long anon😥. I promise that next time I'll do it quicker and also more explicit🙇‍♀️ It's not as explicit as my other recent Lucy nsfw blurb, but I hope you guys will enjoy it still! P.s i know that's Rhiannon in the photo, just pretend it's Jackie alright?

Jackie who survived the wilderness, who has come out of it scarred and traumatized. She has seen death and famine, and her personality and mental health become severely affected. She is introverted, shy and her outgoing personality has been frozen under pain and nightmares.

But she pulls through, and manages to go to college like she had wanted. She thinks that she can make a new life for herself, but as it turns out, college life isn't what she is supposed to be: making friends is hard, exams are tough and her professors are just shitty people. After all she has been through, she doesn't think that she'll be able to have any friendship ever again, not like the one she had with Shauna, anyway.

She doesn't have any roommates until you show up. One day you just barge in her room, suitcase in hand and say "I'm your new roommate!". Truth to be told, as much as she wishes for a friend, Jackie would rather have some peace and quiet. That's what she says to herself anyway, until your company starts to grow on her. She didn't really understand how lonely she was. You guys start to spend your nights together, playing card games, chit chatting, watching movies on Netflix and so on. But slowly, something happens to Jackie's heart. Nothing major, of course, but she feels...weird. Why does her heart throb when she sees you? And what about the butterflies in her stomach? Why is she jealous when other guys and girls flirt with you? And why is she so damned angry at you for not realizing their intentions?

Maybe she is just envious or jealous, but the thought of other people trying to get in your pants makes her angry. For a while, she thinks she's being unreasonable: you are her first friend after the incident; of course she'd want to gatekeep your relationship. And after all, she seems only to attract people who will hurt her and who she will hurt. She distances herself from you, thinking that maybe "I'll be a bad influence, I should just leave them alone". But then one day, she makes a connection.

You have been gone to class for half of the day, leaving her alone inside your dorm room. She needs a little bit of space, and she has been stressed for a while.

She watches as two women grind against each other's bodies on her phone, their skin sweaty and their kisses passionate. One of them pulls out a strap and ties it to her hips, sinking it inside the other's. Jackie sits underneath her covers, stroking herself, curling her fingertips downward at the base, when a thought flashes inside her mind. "Wish we could do that..." and her brain immediatley swaps the bottom's face with yours, interchanging you between the dominating and the dominated. Her heart races, thoughts of you two on her bed, together, grinding against each other... and then kissing tenderly after all is done, giggling and falling asleep together. The feeling inside Jackie's heart is warm, so good that it makes her ache. And as she comes down from her high, she puts two and two together: she has already felt this way once, long ago in the cold of the wilderness, and recalls the pain of how she felt when she had-. Jackie stops and understands, an almost guttural "Fuck!" comes out of her throat.

And as if the situation is not bad enough, you come in a few minutes after her little panic attack. She's still naked underneath the covers, goosebumps travel along her skin when she sees you coming in. She makes an effort in justifying why she was naked underneath, "I just sleep this way when I'm hot, you know?" you make no remark on how it's november and her covers aren't warm enough to sleep under unless she wears something, but oh well.

Jackie who feels embarrassed to masturbate from then on. No matter how hard she tries, you're inside her mind, constantly. She tries to muffle her moans on her covers, stroking up and down her length with you sleeping soundly on your bed. You'd be horrified, she thinks, at the images she has of you in her mind: above her bouncing and with your hands at her throat, beneath her on all fours, cuddled in her arms while she moves from behind...

Jackie who has a hard time going to her lessons because no matter what she does, you just seem to not get out of her head. She needs you to have her in your arms, kissing her. Who has to go out of class early to take care of her little problem.

Jackie, who feels bad about masturbating with you in her mind, who feels dirty and unlovable as she does so, but she can't help it, her body can't help it. And all the while, a little voice tells her that "You're not good enough" and "They won't love you, How could they love you of all people? She didn't love you, he didn't love you; why should they? ".

Jackie who steals glances of you, imagining your hands on her chest, your lips on hers. Who yearns to kiss you so bad it hurts. Who has to go to the bathroom at least once per night whenever you two are spending time together. You don't know what she is doing, but shrug off your concerns.

Jackie who finally gets caught by you. You stand outside the doom room, listening to the sounds coming from the other side. Moans, groans, wet movements and little slips of your name here and there make it obvious to you what Jackie is doing. You slip inside the room, as slowly and quietly as possible, watching how Jackie is bucking up in her hand, hips chasing upwards the feeling. You smile, deciding to approach her with a simple "Hey" but your voice gives Jackie a small heart attack and she shouts, covering her body as best as she can, leaving her chest out in the open and her legs uncovered.

"How...how long have you been there?" she asks, blood freezing with shame and mind racing, trying to understand if you've heard her say your name. "Long enough to understand what's going on" you sit on the bed, too close for her liking, giving her a knowing smirk that she already knows the meaning of. "You were thinking about me, weren't you?" her body stops, missing heartbeats and air. She can feel tears prickling at her skin, but you quickly say to her "I-No Jackie, I liked it". From then on, you tell her how you wished to do the first step, but how you were always so scared that she might've not liked you, how you yearned for her lips on yours. The moment you two are done talking about your feelings, you all but leap into each other's arms.

Jackie who can't help but get hard almost instantly. She can feel blood traveling through her veins, pooling at her crotch, warming her skin and flesh. Who will have to clench her hand around her cock to ground herself, to avoid cumming just from kissing you. She will feel so good from just kissing you that a drop of cum falls from her slit, signaling just how full she is, ready to let all of her pleasure out.

Jackie who feels so incredibly good when you ignore her cock and press two fingers beneath her balls, mimicking fingering her. She's already so hard as it is, and your actions only serve to egg her on more.

Jackie whose hands are shaky as she undresses you, full of eagerness and craving every part of you. Who, as soon as your chest is naked, will plant wet open mouth kisses on any inch of your skin, feeling your muscles harden against her ministrations.

Jackie who will climb on you, cock pressed between your and her stomachs, grinding back and forth. Who will get off like that, grinding on your stomach. Who will spend her time under your crotch, head pressed in between your hips and the mattress. Who will feel euphoric and decide to not touch herself in any way.

Jackie who's cock throbs in need, tip and balls red as she desperately tries to hold it in, wanting only your hands on her.

Jackie who confesses, as you are about to push her length in, that she is a virgin. She sweats and apologizes, already ready for you to leave her hanging, but then lets out a loud gasp when she's finally stilled inside of you.

Jackie who trembles as you ride her into oblivion, hands shaky gripping with force at your sides, short of breath and eyes rolling backwards. She has never felt this way with anyone else, not Jeff nor Shauna, just with you. It's euphoric, it's amazing, and she doesn't wish you to stop anytime soon.

Jackie who has very low stamina but a super high libido. She'll release the precum already five minutes after you start to bounce on her, staining white the condom she wore, panting like she just crossed the line in a marathon run. You haven't even cummed yet, and as you're about to hop off of her, she grabs your hips again and mumbles incoherently, grinding you back against her as she starts to harden again.

Jackie who at one point, decides to move you and fuck you from above, fingers gripping the sheet near your head. She moves erratically, gasping and panting and moaning, her hips pushing into you at a speed you didn't even know she was capable of. Her cheeks are as red as a tomato, lips coming to settle on yours as she moves back and forth, back and forth.

Jackie who, when she cums, sees stars behind her eyelids and feels like she's about to faint.

Jackie who falls asleep almost immediatley between your arms, snoozing off with the knowledge that she has finally found someone to rely on.

#yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #jackie taylor x you #jackie taylor x reader #smut blurb #��anon maybe?

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pixeldolly · 2 days ago

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The Sacrifice - Part 10

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!"

"The idol's gone, Eliza. I displaced it into Yg's core; if that doesn't melt it, nothing will. Either way, nobody's ever getting their hands on it again."

Yg...the name flashed through Eliza's reeling mind. It was an incalculably old star, a bloated red giant orbited by the lifeless husks of three nameless planets on a plane of existence so remote, fact gave way to rumor and conjecture.

None of that mattered.

Not even her disfigurement mattered, weighed against this new calamity.

Eliza could have struck Fiona dead right then and there, if she hadn't been frozen in utter terror.

The Chkrxgmbvegh, the Nameless One, also felt the shift in the planes.

It felt the inexorable pull of the abyss, as its hold on the material plane began slipping away. Already, it could smell the familiar stench of sulphur and rot and hear the cries of the damned, but the demon was furious.

It had been cheated.

"Witch! Thisss iss your fault! Your sssuffering shall be legendary, even in Hell!"

It did not specify which of the two witches it was speaking to, but Eliza Clare could sense the demon's red-hot ire even as it was pulled into a vortex of lurid un-light. That burning, vengeful anger was aimed at her.

"No, please! It wasn't my fault! SHE's the one, SHE did it!"

"I'll fix it, I swear! I'm begging you, give me another chance!"

Eliza's pleas fell on deaf ears. If the demon was listening, it didn't care; all it cared about was revenge.

She screamed as the fire ignited under her feet, engulfing her with a speed that was unnatural, unstoppable. Eliza thought she knew pain, but she was soon to be disabused of that notion.

She also knew with a certainty that did not originate within herself that this, too, would pale before future torments. Demons did not forgive.

And there was nothing she could do to change it. In a flash of insight dying minds are sometimes granted, Eliza realized that she had been hurtling towards the inferno all along, unable to feel the heat.

Maybe, once, a different outcome had been possible, but the point of no return had come and gone long ago. For the first time in decades, Eliza tasted regret, bitter as a mouthful of poison.

And then, she saw.

A stern father, a Jacoban preacher, trying to "beat the magic out of her."

A resentful mother berating her, knowing she could never, ever be good enough.

Herself as a young woman, vowing she would never be made to feel powerless again, no matter the cost. Sentiment was a weakness to be exploited, which she would cut out of herself as one would an infection.

Her son in her arms, her resolve weakening. It did not break.

Her son...

Then, Eliza saw no more.

"Wh- What happened? Where'd that thing go? Uuughh, I feel like I was hit by a goddamn truck!"

"Banished back to its home dimension. It sounded none too pleased about it, which means a certain blonde witch is being shown the hospitality of the Hellplanes as we speak."

"The fire...shit, are those ashes...?"

"Yep. Didn't leave much behind, did she?"

"Fucking hell - Roman!"

"He's fine. Luckily, the demon only took Eliza."

"Luckily? Sounds like you weren't sure what would happen."

"Well, I wasn't, exactly. I made an educated guess that it would see Eliza as the bigger prize. She'd sold her soul to that thing years ago - Roman was an advance payment on that debt, but it was never going to be enough. The Nameless One was toying with her; it would've demanded more and more, until she could no longer pay."

"Uhuh. And what if it had decided to take both of them?"

"That was a possibility, but I figured it only had enough power left to take one or the other."

"You gamble an awful lot with people's lives, Fiona."

"Considering the alternative was that we all died, I like to think it wasn't unreasonable."

"Fair, I guess. I'm okay too, by the way. Fuck, this bite burns like a motherfucker though! Is demon spit toxic?"

"Jacob...?"

"I'm here. Everything's going to be okay!"

"Where is -"

"It's gone. Fiona banished it; I think. You're safe now."

"And my...mother?"

Jacob pursed his lips; giving that woman the title of "mother" felt like a travesty.

"She's gone too."

"You...How did you know...?"

"It's a long story. I'll tell you all the details later, but right now we need to get you to a hospital. How...how are you feeling?"

"Hurts. But - Jacob..."

"Shhhhh."

"Thank you..."

#sims 2 #ts2 #the sims 2 #sims2 #sims 2 bacc #bacc: walden #sims 2 story #story: the sacrifice #roman turner #jacob merridew #fiona merridew #eliza clare #evelyn morgan #the nameless one #yes that is a hellraiser reference #tw: blood #tw: death

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lilia-calderus-pet-goat · 5 hours ago

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Found-Family headcanons for a³'s coven of chaos, part 5: (because they all deserved more time with each other)

(part 4, here) - (part 3, here) - (part 2 - here) - (part 1, here)

Lilia once had a fling with Carmilla, from the lesbian vampire novel. She absent-mindedly mentioned it one time while Billy was browsing 'queer classics' and he looked at her in absolute shock. “What? I wasn't *always* a hermit—” “That's not what I'm shocked a b o u t—”

Lilia is very irresponsible with what she eats, sometimes forgetting food all-together, never checking for expiration dates, etc. (“I don't mind a *lapsed* expiration date-”)

Jen has taken it upon herself to fix that. She won't let her go grocery shopping alone and she won't let her eat whatever. Your girl makes shopping lists and schedules specific meals for every day each week, to make sure her resident scatter-brain stays healthy.

Jen and Alice vent to each other a lot. Mainly because they provide each other with very different, but also always very honest and objective perspectives. Jen reminds Alice to put herself first on occasion and Alice reminds Jen to give others the benefit of the doubt sometimes.

One day, the Kaplans asked to have coffee with the coven, which made Billy incredibly nervous. Mainly because Agatha wasn't making it easy in the slightest.

Sharon managed to save the day, against all odds. She took them to the side for a bit and comforted them, explaining that she herself is just a regular lady, but she's grown to love the others regardless. And so the Kaplans gave the coven a second chance and ended up finding them rather endearing despite their constant quarrels.

Rebecca Kaplan gets a private moment with Agatha. She tells her that she's sorry about Nicholas, and that she almost knows what that feels like, because she almost lost her son. Then there's a pause, and she adds, “... well, not almost, was it?” by herself. Because a mother always knows.

If it was about anything else, Agatha woulf have mocked her. She didn't. She looked at this woman who's lost her son, but can't mourn him, because he's right there with her—and she nodded empatheticaly. There they stood, two mothers of boys who died, filling the void in their hearts with Wanda's son. And they don't love him any less.

“I'm glad he has you ladies in his life. At first I was... Apprehensive, worried, I guess. But at least he has some people who can relate to him more, understand him, mentor him. Because his father and I—he needs more than what we can give him.” — “Well, you're doing something right. You've already given him the most valuable thing. And for that you are his parents, you always will be.”

When Rebecca Kaplan realises Alice is Lorna Wu's daughter she freaks out completely (since we know she was a fan, having gone to her last concert.) She hadn't made the connection before meeting her personally, despite hearing about her a lot from Billy.

The fake car that Agatha distractedly entered in the first episode was built by John Collins (Herb) at Sharon's request, as 'Agnes' had been trying to break into Sharon's car and use it for her crazy episodes. They got worried that she'd get herself hurt, so they made her the fake car to make sure she wouldn't leave her house.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #lilia calderu #jennifer kale #agathario #billy maximoff #alice wu gulliver #agatha all along spoilers #herb #sharon davis #westview #rebecca kaplan #the kaplans #billy kaplan #agatha all along headcanons

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bustybounty · 1 day ago

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Because you helped a elderly witch cross the street, she has given you the blessing of perfectly fitting genitals compared to your girlfriend and increased stamina to go as long as you need to satisfy her. That same witch however had placed a curse on your girlfriend on a different occasion after she insulted the witch. This curse makes it so that everytime she cums, she would grow just a little bit so she would always need a bigger rod to satisfy her. She also made it so the time she can go without sex becomes shorter and shorter. Up until now you havrn't had any issues with this, but it is starting to become cumbersome for the both of you.

Her behavior was noticeably different than before, rubbing my inner thigh a lot, whispering in my ear, doing things she'd only do when she was extremely horny...except that was really becoming the norm.

At times it was obvious that she was wet due to the coloration of her pants around the crotch area.

Of course, not wanting to always leave her seeking pleasure and not getting any, I made sure to get things rolling for both of us, and thanks to my blessing, things couldn't be easier.

Whether it took minutes or hours, I'd always be able to fuck her and stretch her out just a bit to give her the most bliss possible! However, something that was uncommon but started becoming regular was her asking for second rounds, third rounds...her arousal was really getting the better of her.

Though I couldn't say I wasn't at fault either, after all, due to how she was affected by her curse, she was growing larger, taller, a wider, deeper hole, wider hips, all perfect for taking bigger and bigger cocks. Which resulted in me having to satisfy her further with the swelling I was gifted with. While the blessing was, at first, only positive, with how much she was growing, becoming a full on minigiantess, it started also becoming cumbersome on its own, having to carry a massive bulge in ill fitting custom clothes just to go out in public to do absolutely anything.

And even in public, my girlfriend, who wasn't one that really thrived in showing public affection, was really keen on it all of a sudden, even if that affection was more often than not, intimate and sexual in nature. Not just kisses, but full on makeout sessions. Not just hands over the hips, but over the butt, thighs, and sometimes even outright touching either mine or her private areas.

I couldn't say I wasn't in love, she was still the same woman I fell in love with, just hornier! Though, to be fair, with how much I was growing, I was getting hornier too...

At this rate, I'm going to end up with a skyscraper dick for my building towering, giantess girlfriend...I wonder if the witch will reverse things at all... though I feel like she might have made this whole thing completely permanent... Oh well... I'm mostly worried for the city, because when I end up cumming in her, her cumblimp of a gut will surely cover the entire city in a pure show of lovemaking quality <3

#giantess #height expansion #general expansion #cock growth #female cock growth

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cold-bloodedhero-mafuyu · 1 day ago

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THE PEOPLE HAVE DECIDED... THE WINNER IS ; SHINING STAR AU

Don't worry the other AUs will get another chance in the future after we finish the superhero AU (if it has an ending of course but it'd be fun if it didn't ehe) and Shining Star ! Here's a little summary for each AU (including winning AU) ; Fates Intertwined - An AU where SEKAI didn't exist and everything happened naturally... Sort of like a slowburn? esque Alternate universe, It's a bit fleshed out but I'm still working on everything. To keep it simple, this AU is basically where each character isn't going through so much trauma and instead knows how to deal with that trauma that happened in canon with the help of the people they know and cherish, let's take An or Mizuki for example... When An found out about Nagi's death she still did feel sad (and guilty for not being able to say goodbye) and "traumatized" but VBS, instead of checking up on her once actually comforts her, like a lot (including Akito) and encouraged her to keep fighting for what she wants to achieve and keep on reaching for that shared dream. Basically reassuring her (she also has less attachment and abandonment issues... Kanamod and Modshishi knows like almost everything about this AU), while Mizuki despite having to go through Mizu5 again faces Ena this time, not running away or isolating, actually facing Ena. And Ena in return wanted Mizuki to tell her the secret herself because she didn't want to believe in people she doesn't know well, especially if the people were transphobic. uh yeah basically Project Sekai AU ; Everyone's untraumatized (THIS IS SO LONG I'M SO SORRY) Daydreams ; Actually one of my least doomed AUs, it's basically where Minori, An, Mizuki, Mafuyu, Saki, Ichika and Emu daydreams a lot... indulging in a world full of lies, living a life full of lies thinking everything is still the same. Because you see in this AU every unit disbanded because of a big issue they had. For More More Jump! They had a disagreement, Shizuku and Haruka were mostly the ones arguing but Airi also joined in to defend Shizuku... Minori witnessed all of this and basically after hearing Haruka say "I WISH I NEVER WENT ON THE ROOFTOP AND MET YOU ALL!" Minori's head basically clicked, memories flashed before her and she basically hyperventilated and ran away. Haruka realized what she'd done but it was too late, so Airi and Shizuku left. Shizuku isolated herself, Airi tries to keep in touch and well let's just say Minori's depressed and keeps daydreaming which really makes her mentally unhealthy. Haruka knows of Minori's state but she's too scared to do or say anything, she thinks it's all her fault and well you can figure out the rest here haha I just used MMJ as an example since that's the one I first worked on. part 2 will be posted hold on

#ooc #❄️important #important !

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inkedaway · 2 days ago

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What's in a name (Dandadan)

Title: What's in a name?

Notes: People wanted more, so here you go, have more! I'm glad people liked the previous chapter. This one takes Okarun's POV and runs with it. I hope the distinction of thought process makes it through in a coherent manner when he's transformed and you know, not. I'm happy to add more to it, as mentioned - I just need scene ideas to put into chapters. There's no end here, it's just a collection of one shots at this point. If an idea sparks and I wish to explore it, I will gladly add to it. Thanks again guys, feel free to leave ideas if you wish!

Pairing: Momo/Okarun romantic undertones, this is pure fluff

Rating: G (there is one instance of the word Fuck, but... )

Summary: This wasn't to say he didn't appreciate the nickname she had given him, because he did. It was without a doubt, the first thing genuinely given to him by another person, and he treasured it dearly; it had meaning, power behind it, and whenever anyone called him by it now, it reminded him instantly of her.

Ao3 link: Here

Can also be read under the read more here.

Ken hadn't really given his name much thought before. It was just... a thing, a word imposed on him, and it had never held that much importance. That was, until he'd stumbled across someone that, for whatever reason, hadn't wanted to say it. It had bothered him at the time, and even now, something about her not calling him by it rankled in the back of his mind, somewhere deep, deep down, where he threw all thoughts and emotions he didn't want to inspect too closely.

This wasn't to say he didn't appreciate the nickname she had given him, because he did. It was without a doubt, the first thing genuinely given to him by another person, and he treasured it dearly; it had meaning, power behind it, and whenever anyone called him by it now, it reminded him instantly of her. Not that he needed it to be reminded of her though. Momo Ayase was never far from the forefront of his mind now a days, and he often found himself thinking stray thoughts that had never occurred to him before came along and catapulted herself into his life.

Thoughts like, oh, she'd like this, or oh, she'd absolutely despise this other thing. More than once, he'd found himself squirreling away a shiny rock he'd found that reminded him of her earrings, a small piece of candy with an alien themed wrapper, or even entire magazines on the single notion that she'd like them, and he should thus, of course, present them to her. Never once had he actually gone through it; not once had he actually scrunched up the courage to actually give her the thing he'd secreted away for her, much too self conscious to do so when the notion actually caught up with him. He liked to think it was the intention that matter, and that he just needed a push, and maybe some day soon he'd manage.

Despite what some people thought, Ken was not an idiot; far from it, in his personal opinion. It'd taken him his first journey into her room, back when they were still trying to figure out what to do about Turbo Granny that first day, to realize exactly why she hadn't been able to say his name out loud, and he hadn't taken it out on her. Despite being slightly naive about many things, he wasn't exactly slow, and what he lacked in wisdom, he made up for in other ways. He was, perhaps, not as sharp as Ayase herself in the heat of the moment, but he was no slouch.

Still he'd decided to make no comment on the elephant in the room at the time. He'd not brought it up, and had kept his mouth shut. In a way, he'd come to adopt the nickname like it was his first name, and he'd just felt grateful for it. Even so... it still poked at a small, insecure part of him, deep, deep down in his soul, that she wouldn't say it, even when he didn't want to admit to it out loud.

It was perhaps, some small part of those feelings that slipped through when he was transformed. He couldn't really say.

She'd asked him several times what if felt like when he transformed, and he couldn't quite put it into words correctly. Did he go anywhere? Was it still him in there, fully? Did something else take over? And... no, nothing took over. It was just him, but, maybe... more. It was like his feelings were enhanced, not just his senses, but his actual emotions (and God, what did that say about him, that depression was the one in the wheel house? He didn't really want to poke that thought too much, given what it said about him). He'd noticed he was prone to be much more honest with his feelings and surroundings in that form, like there was no filter between brain and his mouth, and what he felt, he just blurted out.

Emotion fueled that form, at the end of the day.

The first few times he'd slipped into that form unbidden, it had been rage fueling it. Rage unlike anything he'd felt before that had sparked change into existence. He'd never been a particularly angry or argumentative kid; he'd never really fought back against bullies. Has never really tried to, never thought it was worth it to do so. Ken figured it had to be something about Ayase that brought it out of him, because he distinctly recalled clapping back at her several times that day, in a way he'd never thought of doing to his bullies. She'd just been worth it, from the very start.

She'd asked him why he called her by her first name in that form, and truth was, he'd wanted to do so since the first day, honestly, but he'd not been able to. He hadn't hadn't found the courage to do so. Afraid of being inadequate, of just not being enough, and in his defense, this was all just new to him. There wasn't a book to drive him through the very real messy process of actually having a friend.

And again, Ken wasn't stupid. He wasn't an idiot. He may have been awkward, and he may have been new at the whole friendship thing, but he smart enough to have realized after a while that some of the thoughts he held for her were not exactly in the friendship department. He hadn't even begun to untangle that mess, and he wasn't ready to poke and prod at it, but he wasn't stupid. He knew himself at least.

Something about that form however, just seemed to destroy most inhibition, and thus, the name just slipped out, time and time again. It wasn't that he didn't want to say it; he very much did. Ken didn't think he could help it, as much as he couldn't help the strangely spindly arms and anatomy he gained, or his hair from changing color.

It was just a thing, and he'd had to get used to it. It was what it was.

Specially because anger wasn't exactly the only emotion that could trigger a transformation. Fear was just as capable of it as well.

He'd found out the hard way, when a particularly loud sound had crashed through her temple one day when she'd gone outside to fetch something. She'd left him in her room, promising she'd be back as soon as possible, and to make himself comfortable. Ken had sat himself on the floor and had been admiring the organized chaos of the room, and the certain lack of posters he could remember from the first day there, when the sound had caught his attention. Metal like, loud and in his fear hazed mind, entirely out of place.

He'd been up on his feet, transformed and zooming outside her room faster than he'd been able to react or even process thought in a coherent manner. The burst of speed enough that he was outside and in front of her before the sound had even stopped reverberating across the premises. The fear that something had happened while he'd been upstairs and she outside had been visceral, and when he found her looking owlishly at him, with pipes around her (clearly the source of the sound), the relief had been just as visceral, "Momo..."

Demonstrating once more that innate sharpness, the girl took one look at him, and somehow managed to read him in the space of time it too him to process that she was fine, and that they were, in fact, not under attack, "Ah," it was a soft sound of understanding as she took her eyes off of him and turned to look at the pipes scattered on the stone floor at her feet, "Sorry. I noticed them over there, and figured I'd get them moved for grandma behind the main shrine before she had to do so later. They're not heavy for me now, given circumstances," as if to emphasize this, she made a small grabby motion with her hands, and the pipes lifted into the air as if by themselves, "But... I got distracted by something and dropped them, my bad," she left the obvious unsaid; she hadn't meant to scare and startle him, and he was grateful to her for not pointing it out.

"Momoooo..." The gratefulness for her continued safety seeped through him like a cold bath, and he found himself taking a step forward and flopping his head in an almost boneless fashion against her shoulder. His forehead was resting against her body, his posture hunched slightly over her, and by the time he'd done so, he couldn't be arsed to move away; she'd push him away anyways, it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered anyways.

To her credit, rather than do that, after a just a moment, Momo's hand went up and patted the top of his head, "There, there, you big idiot, it's fine, see? Everything's fine," he hadn't told her, back when she'd let him use her lap to nap, but that was likely the first time someone not blood related had offered him any sort of physical comfort. He wasn't used to touching. He wasn't used to any of this, which, granted, didn't mean he didn't want it, just... that he was unsure when it was okay to ask for it, or if it was out of the question to do it back. The strange thought processes of his transformation made it very muddy and he seemed to rely on her body language to read what was and wasn't okay to do, "Feeling better?"

Ken took the moment to catalogue his feelings and well, "Still bummed," he said, head remaining pressed against her, and Momo let out a sigh, her hand lowering from his hair to rub his back in a comforting, circular motion.

"Yeah, that about tracks," she said, "I meant more along the lines of if you've calmed down now."

He offered a small nod against her shoulder, his vision entirely blocked by body, what with his forehead pressed against it, allowing at least one sense to be muted.

"Cool, 'kay," after a few more seconds, she lifted her hand and tapped his side slightly in poke poke poke fashion, a movement that seemed to indicate without words or a push that she wanted him to move, and thus he did. Ken lifted his head off her shoulder and watched her through near unblinking eyes, "Help me move these pipes to where I was gonna take them, and then we'll figure out... this" she gestured to him, head to toe, and again, because she asked, he did exactly what she wanted without protest. He scooped up the few pipes she wasn't carrying with her powers and followed her to the back of the main shrine, where he'd spent that first night.

He was quite sure she could have, at this point in time, asked him to fetch her the moon and stars, and despite the impossibility of it, Ken was sure he would have given it his best try regardless.

"Right, okay, lesee," the moment they had gotten rid of the pipes, Momo had turned to gaze at him, looking him up, then down, and then back up again, "You stayin' like that then?" he had no idea what to tell her, and just watched her, which was apparently enough for her to roll her eyes, "Right, always forget you get super weird like this. So... tell me. What do you think would help?"

Well, Ken wasn't exactly sure what would help in this state. Maybe nothing would. Everything felt so... useless when he was like this, like nothing quite mattered either way, and thinking about it was stressing him out further.

Something about his expression, which he hadn't figured had shifted whatsoever, seemed to indicate enough to her that she rolled her eyes, "Stop overthinking everything, dummy. What do you think would help at this precise moment. What do you need?"

Well, need was a strong word. He didn't need anything, but he figured there was something he wanted. The moment the notion flashed through his mind, his mouth opened, and out it came, absolutely no filter, "Can I hold you?" It was immediately clear from the way she looked at him, absolutely flabbergast, that out of all the things she had expected him to say, this one was nowhere on the list. Her mouth opened and closed two times without sound before Ken decided that honestly, nothing mattered anyways. In for a penny, in for a pound, "Just need a moment to calm down, and last time, when we were running, having you close helped."

She blinked owlishly for another two to three seconds, looked away from him in thought and seemed to come to a conclusion. Like with everything Momo did, when she turned back to look at him, she'd planted her feet and looked determined, clearly not about to back down anymore, "Sure, 'kay, let's do that," and she spread her arms in an awkward initiation of a hug.

Having gotten permission, he angled his body not to hug her, but to pick her up off the ground like one would have a small pet animal, eliciting a startled yelp out of the girl. He then allowed himself to flop on the ground, setting her on the ground in front of him and processed to wrap himself in a near boneless fashion around her, his upper hand leaned over her shoulder, legs spread out in front of him, and instantly... things were marginally better.

"Okarun!" Momo had found her voice again, and though she did not squirm out of her position, did reach out to give his head a light smack, eliciting a huff out of him, "A little warning next time!"

"You said I could though."

"I was expecting to be held, not to be picked up swaddled by your limbs!" despite her words, there was no real anger in her voice, and she slowly relaxed her back to lean against his chest, "You're lucky it's hot as fuck out and you're cold," this was said in a murmur, which was dumb, in his opinion. After all, if she didn't want him to hear her, murmuring near his ear was not exactly the best course of action.

Silence fell and for a good amount of time, during which he closed his eyes and took in the signs she was alive (her scent, her heartbeat, the way her chest expanded each time she took in breath), he moved not an inch.

"Better?" it was reminiscent of the question she'd asked him a bit earlier, and he offered, well... not a nod, but a simile of it, his whole cranium flopping over like it was too heavy for his neck to hold. Momo's response was a sigh as she once again patted his head, once twice before her arm fell back upon her lap, "Good."

Ken expected her to poke him, tell him enough was enough, push away even, but the girl did no such thing. He opened an eye to watch her slide hers shut, and thus, following her example, he did so too.

For now, it seemed like she was as content to sit and bask as he was.

#dandadan #momokarun #ken takakura #momo ayase #fanfic #fic

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