#cradling this in my hands “i've been staring at this for five hours even though it's technically only been 20 minutes” | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

glowingbadger · 3 years ago

Note

I’m currently doing the black eagles route, and I got total brain worms for the concept of Yandere!Seteth falling for Byleth, but then she ends up siding with Edelgard, but in a twist of fate the knights of seiros manage to capture her when they ambush garreg mach…and they deliver her right to Seteth for some good ol’ fashioned ✨ reconditioning ✨

Oh man Friend Anon this wiggled right into my brain and did not let me go lol guess it's time to write some Dark Shit™️. Since I don't write Yandere as often, I'm honestly not sure if I hit the right balance of like... "this is fucked up and he's fucked up" vs. "but like he's handsome and persuasive so it's fine, right?" lol so idk, hopefully you guys like it. I've been staring at it for too long and now I have no idea if it's any good xD Also God this thing ended up too long- it's like around 6k words I think wtf.

Side note- I actually decided to stick with my usual Reader-Chan perspective for this, but you probably could still just put Byleth there in your brain tbh

Also I guess if Byleth/Reader is with the Black Eagles originally for this, then technically Garreg Mach should fall after that battle, but for narrative purposes, I'm doing kind of a hybrid route where the conflict is ongoing and GM doesn't fall immediately idk man I needed a setting lol

TW: dub con, manipulation, general dark yandere-ish stuff

As always, please do not push yourself to read something you're not comfy with ❤️

Yandere!Seteth (FE3H) x AFAB Reader

Reconditioning

NSFW 18+

Seteth's is the first familiar voice you've heard since your capture and imprisonment in the dungeons beneath Garreg Mach, and you're not certain whether to be relieved or all the more terrified. It's distant at first, but unmistakable still.

"We are not to be disturbed until I specifically send for you, do I make myself clear?"

The soldiers outside of your cell answer in the affirmative, and you hear their boots on the cold stone floors as they depart. You hadn't even realized there had been guards assigned to you specifically. There is a small barred window in the cell door, but the shackles around your wrists had been latched to the wall the moment you'd been taken in, so you've hardly moved an inch in what felt like hours, maybe a full day by now. Your muscles ache, your empty stomach aches worse. You're exhausted, filthy from the battlefield, mouth dry and hair a tossled mess. You had started to think your mind and heart had numbed through in your desperation, dulled by hopelessness. But Seteth's voice stirs something in your chest up to your throat, and you force your head up to watch him as he enters.

Five years look as though they've hardly touched him. Other than perhaps a deeper crease at his brow, he appears unchanged. It's almost crueler this way. Looking at him makes it so easy to imagine simpler days and pleasant chats over tea. You want to say his name, or say anything, but you're silent as he approaches. He seems... Sad isn't quite the right word. Regretful would be closer, if maybe not exact. He breathes out your name, and raises a hand as though to touch your face, but stops himself.

"I often prayed that I would see you again someday," he says, bright green eyes fixed on you, "But... Not like this."

"Seteth..." You finally choke out, your voice rasping painfully in your throat.

"Shh, do not push yourself," he replies. Once more, his hand nears, and when his fingertips graze your cheek, you instinctively lurch away. He looks hurt, and you almost apologize to him. But you remember- he's the enemy commander. He's the reason you're in this cell. He's your captor.

Nonetheless, Seteth sighs softly as he cradles your face in his hand,

"The things they must have done to you... When they took you from us, I feared the worst."

"No, Seteth-" your eyes plead with him, "You don't understand, Edelgard's ideals are similar to your own."

His brow furrows deeply, and he leans close.

"Poor thing, that witch has even poisoned your mind."

"It's not like that, please-! If you would only speak to her, I know-"

"That is enough," his eyes narrow to a glare.

"I could mediate, we could come to an agreement-"

"Silence!" His face twists into a horrible grimace, and the hand that had caressed your cheek is at your throat, his grip forcing you to look up at him. His eyes are wild, his hold at your neck restricts your breathing and pins you to the stone wall. Your heart pounds in your ears. You wonder if Seteth can feel your pulse racing beneath his hand.

Then, slowly, gradually, his expression softens, his grip loosens.

"This isn't why I came to see you."

Your chest rapidly rises and falls as you gulp in precious air. You don't dare to say a word in reply. His touch is gentle once again as he smooths back your hair. Then, he takes a waterskin from his belt.

"I cannot release you, you must understand that," he says with genuine remorse, and you nod, "but I will ensure that you are taken care of. You have suffered so much already..." He raises the water to your lips, one hand under your chin to guide you as he carefully tips the pouch so you can drink from it. It's fresh and clean, cool but not cold. You can't remember water ever tasting so good, and you lap it up gladly. Seteth is patient all the while, watching intently as you gulp down every drop he offers you. Then at last, when the waterskin is spent and he lowers it from your mouth, he runs his thumb across your bottom lip to dry it. You wish there were more, but the invigorating feeling of water in your belly fills you with such relief, you feel gratitude welling up in your chest unchecked.

"It would be foolish to think that things could truly be as they were..." He says, his voice low and bittersweet, "But if you are willing to meet with me, perhaps we can mend what's been broken."

You stay silent, and he steps away. Turning to the heavy cell door, he pauses to say,

"There are others who have been taken in. Your cooperation would reflect positively on them, and may allow the guards to treat them more generously. That is all."

The following day, Seteth brings food when he visits. Good food, at that- not some prison slop, but an array of cooked vegetables, meat and bread that looks to be straight from the dining hall. The scent alone makes you salivate, and your pupils grow wide as he approaches you.

You would be willing to eat from the floor. Frankly, you're surprised the food is plated. You know you can't have your hands free, but eating like an animal would be preferable to starvation. Yet, instead, Seteth carefully feeds you by hand, starting with easier, lighter foods. He regulates your pace, though you very nearly beg him for each bite.

"Easy now, go slowly. Don't overwhelm your stomach all at once and make yourself sick."

On the third day, he brings food and water, and a key. With it, he frees your shackles from the wall, and attaches them instead to a lengthy chain rooted in the floor. Your wrists are still bound behind you, but now you can walk, sit, and at least wander the breadth of your cell. You try to tell Seteth not to feed you today. You try refusing him, struggling, lashing out. He's patient, rebutting your attempts with a parent's measured tolerance, until you finally settle and allow him to feed you once more.

On your fourth day in captivity, Seteth brings a basin of water, towels, and some kind of subtle floral soap. He sets these down on the floor and gestures for you to kneel beside him. Only gradually does it occur to you that he intends to wash you himself. If the situation allowed for emotions like embarrassment, you're sure you'd be beside yourself. But, somewhat surprising even yourself, you simply allow Seteth to begin undressing you. His touch is gentle, even tender as he removes layers of fabric caked in filth and sweat. One dirt-crusted button at a time, he exposes your breasts, your stomach, your hips, his eyes wandering each inch of you with a focused, yet unreadable expression. His arms draw around you, and you feel his breath in your hair as he says,

"I'm going to free one of your arms so I can remove your tunic. Please, do not try anything foolish. I want to help you."

You nod. He opens the cuff around one of your wrists. You should fight. You should try to resist him- take the key and make your escape. Your muscles tense. It may be your only chance. Seteth holds you more firmly against his chest and pulls your clothing from your body. The air around you is cold, but he warms you, surrounds you.

Your muscles are weak from your imprisonment. He could easily overpower you. You relax in his arms.

"Very good, Y/N." He praises you softly, and you feel the words tickle the shell of your ear. Then, the cuff is locked around your wrist once more.

He tugs your breeches down your hips, then legs. Your undergarments soon follow. You're bared completely, but Seteth watches you with a softness in his eyes that's ill suited to a war general. He dampens his hands, then lathers them with the faintly sweet soap, and begins to massage it across your skin.

So good. His hands feel so good; they're calloused and strong, but he's gentle with you. And it's then that you notice you don't shy away from his touch anymore. In fact, you find you subconsciously lean into him. You savor him.

Madness. His care and kindness are breaking you.

"Seteth-" you try to bite back your own voice, but his name comes out too quickly.

"Yes? Do you need something of me?"

His hands run along your sides, and you inhale sharply, arching back.

"Why... Why are you doing all of this for me? I'm... Your prisoner. An enemy."

At first, he doesn't reply. He takes the towel and dampens it, then sets upon scrubbing away the filth of your last battle and the grime of your time locked up. At last, he says,

"I have never been capable of viewing you as an enemy."

You're about to question him further, but the way he looks at you stalls the words before you can get them out. For the first time since he'd discarded your clothing and left your body exposed to him, you meet his eyes. He leans close, an arm around your back to cradle you to him, as the other cleans you, caresses you, soothes you. Then, his lips are on yours, and you're almost glad your shackles keep you from reaching out to him.

It's not a delicate kiss- more the type that lovers share. You'd imagined kissing Seteth before, back when you had the luxury of such pleasant idle fantasies. It was never anything like this. His tongue passes your lips, toying with yours as he tilts his head and leans into you. And you kiss him back. Your lips and tongue move on instinct, welcoming him despite all reason. Your mind is screaming at you, but the screams sound muffled and far away. At some point, he dropped the towel he'd been using in the water basin. You only realize this because his hand is running up your inner thigh, and you gasp against his lips.

"Did that wretched woman take you as her own, I wonder?" He whispers into the miniscule space between you. There's a bitterness in his voice, yes, but also a deep and sorrowful sympathy.

"No- she... Edelgard never-"

"Or perhaps she gave you over to that snake of a man she calls her advisor... No, she wouldn't," Seteth's fingertips brush the swell of your lower lips, and your thighs twitch inward around his arm, "A covetous warmonger like that, who only seeks to conquer and subsume. She would not gift you to another."

"Seteth-!"

You should push him away. You should scream for the guards and hope against hope that they'd dare to stop him. Instead, you accept his lips once more, and allow his fingers to part you, slowly pressing into your tight opening. Cradled against his warm frame, you feel him exhale, feel his heart thudding in his chest. His fingers gradually work you open around him with gentle, rhythmic thrusts, careful never to hurt you. Your chest is tangled in a million different knots- one of guilt, one of fear, one of desperate, longing need. The noise in your head is near unbearable, but above it all, you hear Seteth's voice against your ear,

"I want you to know that I forgive you. For everything."

Forgives you...? The words sound nice, but you can hardly parse their meaning. His fingers are coated in your slick, allowing them to fuck into you more steadily. You bite down on your lower lip to hold in a moan. He forgives you...

"Ha...!" A gasp finally escapes you. As though satisfied by that very sound, Seteth's fingers ease out from your drooling cunt, only to refocus on your clit. You barely even realize how you'd let your body slacken in his arms, letting him hold you close as he drives you to pleasure you've been without for far too long. Seteth, a man of the church, a man who lead troops against you and your allies. His touch pulses around your stiffened clit, sending shuddering waves of pleasure through your nerves. Rhea's advisor is going to make you cum. The realization grabs hold of you, filling you with white hot shame- and something far worse. A thrill of arousal. The temptation to surrender.

"Given my station, I feel it only right to take full responsibility for your spiritual well-being," his voice sounds like a lustful whisper, but the words are frigid, formal, "it would do you good to relearn several of the core values of the Church."

Then, his hand pulls away.

"We will begin with patience."

A moment of confusion rapidly devolves into desperation. You sit upright and lean towards him.

"Seteth, please-"

Please what? Continue to touch you? Make love to you? You find you don't want to face the truth of what you're pleading for.

He stands with all the dignity of a holy ceremony, then unclasps the cloak from the back of his robes. He kneels briefly to drape it around your shoulders. It's warm, and it smells like him. Like incense and old parchment.

"I will return with a change of clothes for you, and send for these to be cleaned," he says, picking up your old clothes and turning to depart, "I trust that you will be a diligent student in the coming days."

The night is agonizing. Seteth is all you can think of. Him, and the shame and guilt of how obsessively your mind circles him. His voice, his scent, his touch. You want more than anything to relieve the desperate need he awoke in you- to satisfy the nagging urge for release, and then perhaps be free from the memory of his hands. But with your own bound behind your back, there's simply no way.

How could you ever face your allies among the Empire's forces now? Now that you'd allowed- practically begged for a man of the church to pleasure you, to enter you. The phrase "sleeping with the enemy" comes to mind.

In the end, the moment you see Seteth open the cell door the following day, the heat of unresolved need floods your core. You tell yourself it's because his is the only touch you've felt in recent memory. You tell yourself that, if circumstances were different, you would resist him, push him away. Yet something in your expression must please him, as he grants you the slightest hint of a smile when he approaches.

"Have you had ample time to consider our lesson in patience?" his voice is firm yet kind, the voice he might use with a somewhat dense student. Your lips tighten to a thin line, and you step back against the stone wall. You give no reply, to which Seteth merely sighs and shakes his head.

"I cannot help you if you choose to be obstinate," he says, stepping towards you and raising a hand to your cheek as he has many times before. You realize that he hasn't brought any food with him today. The thought causes your stomach to tighten, grumbling low, yet loud enough that Seteth takes note. He gives a short, contemplative hum, then his hand comes to your chin to force you to meet his eye.

"Your body already associates our visits with food, I see." He knows what he's doing to you. He knows how he's training your body to respond to him. You force your head to turn from him, and he allows it, though his fingertips brush through your hair, "Don't be difficult, Y/N, I will have your meal brought after today's lesson has concluded."

Before you can reply, Seteth's hand begins to travel down your body. He caresses your neck, then continues downward, only pausing for a moment to cup your breast in hand. Your posture tightens, your face warms. But his free hand urges you to face him once more, and he kisses you with that same possessive intensity that hasn't left your mind since his prior visit. His thumb brushes across where your nipple has begun to harden against the fabric of your tunic. But rather than pursue this pleasurable sensation, his hand continues down your stomach and hips, then slides his fingers beneath your waistband.

The moment you feel him press between your folds, you whimper against his lips. His fingers run firm against your opening, but refuse to enter. You know you're positively soaked for him already. You know he notices the way you try to subtly shift your hips against him, rutting yourself onto his hand.

"Seteth, please..." you sob between kisses, and once again, he merely sighs.

"I had hoped that you would exhibit at least some measure of restraint," he says sternly, pulling away his hand and bringing his fingers to your lips. Some deranged part of your mind thinks that perhaps if you please him, he'll satisfy you- and so you immediately take the digits into your mouth, sucking and lapping at your own juices. Fierce emerald eyes fix onto you and watch you intently until you've finished, and he says,

"Your lessons will continue until you have fully grasped and appreciated the values of our Church," he continues, his tone even but his gaze firm and direct, "Now then, on your knees. Today, you will learn humility and service."

After only a brief glance at those unyielding green eyes, you obey.

You kneel at Seteth's feet, wrists still bound behind you, stubborn arousal and anticipation roaring in your veins. With pupils blown wide, you watch as he parts his robes and tugs down the front of his breeches, revealing the hardened length of his manhood. Once more, Seteth's reality is far more lurid than your idle imaginings had been, back when you'd entertained an innocent crush on the man who would someday be your adversary. His size is, in truth, a bit intimidating. But you straighten your posture and part your lips, worried that stalling for too long may provoke him.

Instead, he's patient. Excruciatingly so. If only he would be harsh with you, you think. If only he would attack or berate you. Then, you could hate him. Instead, a part of you that grows like a wildfire spreading too quickly for you to trample down so dearly wants his approval. His care and concern. The forgiveness he claims to offer, which you can only hope you're truly worthy of.

Your lips wrap around the head of his cock, a bit clumsy at first without your hands to balance you. Your tongue massages the glans steadily, and you turn your eyes up to him, not knowing what you hope to see in his expression. He's unreadable, but not cold. His hand comes to stroke your hair fondly, and he murmurs,

"That's right, Y/N. Take your time, and don't push yourself. This is all for your benefit."

True enough, forcing yourself to take him deeper would be uncomfortable at best, and suffocating at worst. Given his generous size, you're forced to work your way down the shaft gradually, working to widen your jaw and open your throat for him inch by inch. And all the while, Seteth instructs you, petting you and occasionally encouraging you.

You feel him grow harder within the warmth of your mouth, but he gives little indication of his pleasure. He seems utterly focused on you, his gaze unwavering as he watches you dedicate yourself to him. In a way, allowing you to service him slowly, rather than fucking into your mouth at his chosen pace, grants you the uniquely cruel opportunity to enjoy the process. You imagine a different scenario in a different life; one where Seteth is your lover and not your captor. You imagine how his strength would comfort you, rather than cage you. More than anything, you imagine this incredible cock making love to you- how it would feel inside of you, how he might sound groaning your name in pleasure.

Instead, as you urge yourself to take him as deep into your throat as you can manage, you only hear him exhale between his teeth. You quicken your pace, bobbing your head and taking him into the tight passage of your throat over and over. And at long last, you hear him from above you,

"I'd like for you to swallow it. Can you do that for me?"

You whimper around him, but don't dare to pull away.

"Very good. I'd rather not make a mess of you."

You hardly register the words. For the first time, he's thrusting back into you, his hand in your hair still, and his breath finally just a bit strained. With the slightest groan, he holds deep in your mouth, his cock twitches, swells, and begins to pour his release down your throat. Your eyes nearly water with the strain, but you force yourself to gulp down his cum as he grants it, swallowing until he's spent.

When he pulls away, you nearly slump forward, but he steadies you by the shoulder. You cough a bit, but somehow don't spill a drop of his release. Seteth fixes his breeches, then kneels down and caresses your cheek fondly.

"Seteth..." you half-moan his name, your eyes blatantly desperate, "Please, will you... I- I want..." you can't bring yourself to tell him that you need your own relief, but he understands your intent. And, if anything, he looks disappointed. He sighs, and stands once more before you.

"I see. So you had hoped for your own gratification in return. Have you truly lost sight of our lesson so quickly?" You struggle up to your feet, and he continues, "A servant of the Goddess does not act for the sake of personal reward. Service is done for its own sake, Y/N."

He turns toward the cell door, and only pauses to say,

"No matter. I'll bring you your meal, and we will try again tomorrow."

Days pass, and lessons pass. Seteth brings you food and water, he cleans you and feeds you by hand. Sometimes, he grants you a few precious moments of pleasure, his fingers working expertly between your thighs and yet never bringing full satisfaction. You wonder whether it would be more merciful if he never touched you, if you never experienced the rush of his lips on yours and his fingers stroking your most sensitive nerves. But then he draws near again and you can't even think to protest.

He continues to teach you patience and service, of course. And over time, further lessons follow. He teaches you obedience, instructing you to pleasure him with only your tongue, or to hold his cum in your mouth until he orders you to swallow it. And after this, your lessons become more intensive still. You're taught an extensive list of prayers by being made to repeat after him, knowing that success would earn you a few blissful moments of pleasure at Seteth's hands, while continued failure would bring punishment.

And you're a good student, only earning his punishment on a single occasion. One day- and only once -you dare to suggest that he may free you. That negotiations might be possible. You should have known he would react poorly, but the memory of his hand constricting around your neck is distant, and clouded by days of patient instruction, of food and bathing and touching.

Your suggestion earns you a lesson in contrition. As Seteth fucks into your throat so hard you can barely breath, he snarls from above,

"I don't wish to be cruel to you, Y/N, but you have forced my hand," his fist is tight in your hair, and his voice is low and dark, the warning of a far worse fate barely concealed in his tone. Your jaw strains around his thick cock and your eyes threaten to roll back, already dewed with tears. You nearly gag several times over, yet even when he feels you choke around his cockhead, he shows little mercy. Your throat feels sore and raw, and you wonder how you're even able to withstand him brutally pounding into your mouth for so long. Then, once he's finally sated, he pulls you off of his member by your hair, and shoots powerful ropes of cum across your chest as you watch him with dazed, puffy eyes and swollen lips. He's never marked you like this, always preferring that you take his load down your throat. Feeling his hot, thick release dripping down your skin fills you with a confusing mess of emotions- arousal, shame, humiliation, and strangely, a thrill of submission. The thrill of being claimed.

Seteth takes a moment to fix his clothes and steady his breath. Then, he kneels before you and cradles your face in his hands. For a moment, neither of you speak. His thumb brushes across your cheek, drying a single shed tear.

"I want to help you- you know that. Everything I have done has been for your sake. I take time out of my work each day to ensure you're cared for. In light of your favorable progress until this point, I have even given orders that other prisoners are to be given more generous treatment."

You raise your eyes to meet his. Bright green, and so earnest, as though desperate to reach you. Your chest feels heavy. Your mind is buzzing loudly, yet utterly silent.

"I'm... sorry," you choke out, "I'm sorry, Seteth..."

You're not certain what you're apologizing for- but he pulls you to him, cradling your head to his chest, and you feel a wave of relief. He kisses your hair and runs his hand over your back. He's warm- so warm, and his scent on his robes soothes you.

"You are forgiven. Always."

The soft sweetness of his voice seeps into your mind- into your heart.

It's intoxicating. He releases you, and smiles gently as he brushes your hair back.

"I will return in a moment to clean and feed you. Behave yourself and wait for me, I won't be long."

You never again go against Seteth's wishes. You never again mention your former allies, and with time, you think of them less and less. Such thoughts are replaced with lessons and prayers and Seteth's hands on your body. Yet you wonder why he has never fully taken you, instead choosing only to use your mouth. The surface answer appears to be that it would not serve to educate you. But is it what you want? The obvious answer comes far too readily. You want it more than anything.

Yet the day you realize this is the first day that Seteth does not visit you. You had found it strange that, during his prior visit, he had altered the shackles around your wrists so that your hands were bound in front of you rather than behind. In addition to putting less strain on your back and shoulders, this allows a guard to pass food to you through the openings in the barred window of your cell's door. You accept your meal, but call out before the guard leaves,

"Where- uh, where is Seteth?"

The guard hesitates before answering, and when he does, his words are rushed and clumsy,

"He- said he was busy today. And... that we were not to interact with you under any circumstances."

With that, he turns from the door and hastily departs. You know that Seteth must be a busy man- his consistent visits despite this are yet one more testament to his immense care and kindness towards you. But then the days continue, and for what you estimate to be a week, you don't see him. You don't feel him or hear him. The guards resolutely refuse to speak to you, only passing your meals before returning to their stations. The time spent alone is unbearable- worse by far than any punishment Seteth had ever granted. Are you being punished now? What had you done wrong?

The days without him are agony. Perhaps you had taken him for granted. He went so far out of his way for your benefit, taking the time to teach and train you, always so patient and understanding even when you made mistakes. If you could only see him again and prove that you would be good, that you would behave and obey him.

When the door of your cell opens at last, your heart leaps in your chest. Seteth enters, but his expression is grave. His eyes are narrowed, his brow low and stern as he silently approaches.

"Seteth-!" you gasp out, your face lit up with relief. A shadow of a smile shows through when he meets your eyes. He whispers your name with a strange sort of heat in his tone. That's when you notice the blood smeared down the side of his face. On a second inspection, he looks worn and haggard. His robes are frayed and torn in several places, the worst of which being a gash across his lower abdomen at his side. There's more blood still- some his, and some not, by the looks of it -and not even fully dry. Your expression falls. However before you can question him, Seteth says,

"Did any of the guards lay a finger on you in my absence?"

You're surprised that this is his concern, but you manage to reply,

"No, not at all."

He draws close and brings a hand to your cheek.

"Good. If any so much as looked on you even once, I would have them punished within the full extent of the Church's authority." You feel a chill at the thought- you know fully well that he means to imply execution.

"What- what happened?"

"Only a minor skirmish," he replies, his voice carefully measured. Then, his hands are at your waist, and he guides you back against the nearby wall, "Another attempt at breaking through the Monastery's gates. Preparation for this assault is what has kept me from you as of late. But you've no need to concern yourself with such things,"

He seizes the chain that joins your shackles and draws them upward, latching them to the wall behind you above your head. Then, he pulls you up and into his arms, embracing you and trapping you between the wall and his body.

"You- you should see a healer, you're hurt-" you stutter out.

"Such wounds couldn't possibly keep me from you," Seteth whispers, his voice rasping in his throat. When he kisses you, it's full of possessive hunger, and you feel the now-familiar ache for him roar to life at your core. You whimper against his lips. It feels different from before. Perhaps it's because of your recent separation, but he's more direct now, more passionate. He smells like sweat and iron and the carnage of the battlefield, but you can't think clearly enough to be bothered by it. If anything, it only spurs on your need for him.

Large, calloused hands run up your sides beneath your clothing, and you moan into his kiss. You're certain he means to tease you still, to bring you to the edge to leave you dangling by a thread. Instead, he tears open the front of your tunic with one hand while the other grips your thigh, down its outer curve to your ass, holding you firmly against him. And you feel his manhood, hot and incredibly hard, rutting between your lower lips behind layers of clothing.

You try to say his name, but he smothers your words in heated kisses, his tongue thrusting into your mouth to claim you. Before you can track, he's tugged down your breeches and adjusted his own clothing to free his throbbing member. Then, with your back to the cold stone and your legs wrapped around his hips, you feel the tip of his cock at your entrance and whimper aloud. You think he may make you beg or plead or pray. Not today. Today, at long, long last, Seteth murmurs your name and pushes the head of his cock into you, groaning as he feels you clench around him.

You're already panting, whining softly as he works his massive length into you. He had wasted no time, and yet you're already soaking wet for him, your juices coating his cock and welcoming him into your needy cunt. He spreads you open gradually but insistently, fitting you around him as he opens you up with thrusts that drive deeper and deeper with each pass. It's bliss- a bliss that makes you so dearly grateful for your own imprisonment. In this moment, you feel you'd gladly remain caged for life if it meant Seteth would care for you and satisfy you. Briefly, you do struggle against the restraints that hold your wrists in place, though only out of longing to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, to pull him close and offer yourself to him.

"Seteth..." you say, your voice shaky and weak. He glances up at you, and the heat in his eyes nearly takes away your breath. He's held inside of you to the hilt, the tip of his cock pressing hard into your core and the girth of it stretching you to your limit; yet he pauses, and you manage to say,

"Please- take... take me..."

He smiles and rests his forehead against yours. You feel the cool metal of the circlet he wears, and the tightening of his grip at your hips as he holds you against him.

"My angel..." he whispers into the quiet of your prison cell, "Yes, darling, I'll take you. Until you're mine and mine alone."

Seteth's hips begin to move, thrusting into you at a steady yet impassioned pace. His arms hook under your legs, urging them back towards you and spreading your thighs, allowing him to fuck you even deeper, driving into you to the hilt and filling you until you're gasping for breath. Your body arches up from the stone wall as his lips travel down your neck. Where it meets your shoulder muscle, he bites down, and you breathe out his name as he marks you, his teeth harsh around your flesh. His beard grazes your skin, his hair tickles your neck and chest, and not even the still-present scent of blood can lessen the thrill of finally receiving him.

You wear a dazed smile, mumbling his name amidst cries of pleasure, and his pace increases. He fucks into you harder, his hips slamming up against you, the tip of his manhood sending shocks of pain and pleasure up through your core. The distant sting of his nails digging against your upper thighs hardly even registers in your hazy thoughts. Your body can't withstand the onslaught of pleasure- not after days and night and weeks of building need -and with a shiver that runs up your spine and across your skin, you see white, and the tense knot at your core comes undone. The relief of cumming is like a potent drug, and the thrill of cumming around Seteth's cock is indescribable bliss.

You're a boneless, trembling mess in the wake of your long-awaited climax, and it's all you can do to watch Seteth with unfocused eyes and lips parted as he continues to chase his own satisfaction. Shocks of tingling pleasure wake your nerves despite how positively spent and dizzy you feel. But then his eyes meet yours, and the animal hunger in that gaze rushes you to the edge all over again. You bite at your bottom lip. He presses you harder against the wall, pounding into your cunt as it clenches and spasms around him, then growls against your ear,

"Say that you belong to me. Now."

You rally any sense of control you still have over your body to gasp out,

"I... I'm yours-! I'm yours, Seteth..!"

With a final shaky groan, he holds your hips painfully tight and shoves the entire massive length of his cock into you. His member swells and throbs, and then, the heat of his release bursts out inside of you. His lips find yours, drawing you into a messy, heated kiss as thick cum fills you, his full length swelling and pulsing against your aching inner walls with each wave of his orgasm.

You feel light. You feel dazed and unfocused and practically mindless. Once Seteth has finally poured out the last of his climax into you, he lets out a heavy exhale, holding you to his body while he catches his breath. With his cock still nestled deep inside of your over-full and over-used hole, he nuzzles his face against your hair, and with a tenderness that makes your heart ache, he says,

"I will never let her take you from me again. I swear it."

'Her' is someone who mattered once- you're certain of it. But in Seteth's arms, full of his warmth and cradled to his sturdy frame, you find you don't have it in you to care. Perhaps a lifetime ago, you would have questioned him, or even resisted him- but you know better now. He provides for you, protects you, gives you pleasure beyond what you've ever felt before. There's no doubt remaining in your mind that this is right. That you belong to the Church. You belong to Seteth.

#yandere #tw yandere #seteth #seteth fire emblem #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #feh #fe3h #seteth x reader #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem smut #fire emblem imagines

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dandelionlovesyou · 2 years ago

Text

It's You

Katniss ends up with an unplanned pregnancy.

This is a short fluffy drabble between best friend!Everlark.

This story was loosely inspired by the Netflix movie "Look Both Ways."

I hope you like it!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/41460582

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14131259/1/It-s-You

......

"We should get married," Peeta says quietly, breaking the long silence between us. We're sitting on the bed of his red pickup truck, staring out in the meadows for what seems to be the whole night. I look at him momentarily; he doesn't break his gaze towards the autumn sky ahead of us, seriousness plastering his expression.

"What do you mean, Peeta?" I ask because honestly, I feel confused. This day hasn't given me a break at all. Everything was changing every second, and I felt like crawling out of my skin.

"I mean, we should get married, married. Be husband and wife," Peeta answers surely before taking my hand in his. He's gentle and careful like my hands are made of thin glass. "We're both adults and have been best friends for thirty years. We practically grew up together. I still remember bathing in my undies with you when we were five. We would run around the lawn like some crazy children, thinking that the sprinkler was real rain."

“Peeta …,”

"I'm serious, Katniss," he continues on. "It seems like a good decision to me, and I promise I'll take good care of you like always."

"You don't have to do it," I tell him straightforwardly. "I know what you're trying to do here, and I'll figure things out with the baby. We're not your responsibility ..."

“But Katniss …,”

"Listen," I say and face him as I lean my head on the back of his truck. "Don't you want to marry someone you love? Someone you'll cherish for the rest of your life and love you back the way you should be loved? I know you, you're a romantic, Peeta. You should marry for love and not to save the face of your best friend. Marriage is something you should do for yourself and not for me." I want to add that he's already done too many things for me all my life. Peeta is the one true constant in my thirty-three years of existence. I've had to rely on him for far too many things, more than what I would ask from my family, even. He's just too good and deserves a person who would reciprocate all the love and devotion he pours out.

“Katniss, please lis …,”

“No, Peeta,” I cut him off quickly because as lonely and sad as I feel right now, I won’t accept his offer and take his chance at marriage away from him. “Thank you, though. You’re always so sweet,” I say and rub my thumb over the back of his hand.

"Katniss, what if I already have?" he says and then cradles my hand with both of his. He keeps his eyes on our joined hands, biting the insides of his bottom lip while he ponders.

“Have what?”

"Have found that person?"

"Person what?" Honestly, my brain is so filled right now that I can't take any more riddles.

"Found the person that I love. The person who I want to spend my whole life with and create a family with … that is if she'll let me."

"Oh," I let out and squeeze his hand. My lips quirk up into a small smile, happy to hear the news from my best friend. I didn't even know that he was dating someone. I guess I've been so preoccupied with my own life that I missed this part of his.

"Then you should marry her. I'm sure she would say yes," I add confidently because really, who could say no to Peeta Mellark? He's the best among all of us in this small town. Kind, generous, loving, funny, and strong. He's not perfect, and he has little habits that irritate me sometimes, but any person who refuses to see beyond his flaws is a huge idiot.

“You really think so? That she would say yes if I ask her?”

"For sure, Peeta. If she doesn't, she doesn't deserve you," I say matter-of-factly.

“Okay,” he answers and shifts in front of me. I take the instant to fix the pillow behind my back, fluffing it up because it feels flat from me leaning on it for hours since sunset. When I turn back, I find Peeta kneeling on one knee in front of me, fishing up something from the pocket of his sling bag.

"What are you looking for?" I ask and crane my neck. He gives me his signature smile, it's full and sincere, the corners of his eyes wrinkling from it. He lets out a deep breath then I notice his hands are trembling.

"Katniss Everdeen," he says as he looks deep into my eyes. His lips are also quivering, and worry rushes inside my stomach. "Will … will you do me the great honor of marrying me?"

My eyes must look like saucers right now as the realization hits me.

“I have loved you since we were children and will always love you for the rest of my life, Katniss. I love you with all my heart.”

I search his eyes, those deep blue eyes that bring me comfort every time I see them. The same eyes that bring me joy because when he smiles, I can't help but smile back even on a really depressing day. Peeta is just vibrant light and life. I have basked in them all my life, wanting his sunshine to lift me up from my misfortunes.

The expression on Peeta's face is genuine and sincere, albeit scared from baring his heart out. He's saying the truth. That he loves me and wants to marry me. My next-door neighbor. My fellow teacher. My best friend my entire life. Peeta. My Peeta. He deserves all the love in this world.

"What about the baby?" I suddenly say because it doesn't seem fair to him. As much as I am comforted and enveloped by his confession of love, I have to think of his own good. This baby is not his -- it's Marvel's, my ex-boyfriend who couldn't handle the reality that his girlfriend of three years is now pregnant. He just up and left, saying that he had dreams and goals that he wanted to fulfill. That he can't possibly have a child right now because his career in marketing is finally flourishing. He even advised me to give the baby up -- to discontinue it and move on with my life. What an asshole. I can't believe I stayed with him for three years.

“Peeta, you’re getting a family here and not just a wife,” I tell him frankly. Even before he answers my question, I know what his response would be, so I have to warn him about what he is getting into. I have to protect him.

"Katniss, I really don't care," he coos and reaches for my cheeks. The small box he got from his bag drops on the truck bed, but he pays it no mind. "I love you, and this baby is a part of you. She or he is one half of you, and I would love to be a part of her or his life … that is if you'll let me."

I squeeze his hands then, or more like clutch them down towards my belly because he's shaking too just like me. I search my heart then and realize that I love Peeta too. I don't know what kind yet, but it's definitely strong and abundant. I can't imagine not having him in my life. He's part of my air and my sunshine. My only fear is that I don't have the love that he deserves, that he should have.

“I love you, Katniss,” he lets out with a delicate breath. I feel like bursting into tears because his eyes and those three words are telling me that I am enough, that he will take my love and my circumstances however they are.

"Okay," I say with a croak, the word catching in my throat. It's weak and seems non-committal, but really it's a yes from the bottom of my heart. Peeta doesn't seem to mind my poor response because his tears finally fall, and he envelopes me in a full and tight embrace. I feel his breath on my hair, his thumping heart on my shoulder as I crash into his plumpish but sturdy chest. His soul washes over me, and I forget every awful thing that happened today. It's only here in Peeta's arms do I feel the world stopping and being whole again. No one ever holds me and makes me feel safe like he does.

"I love you," he slowly whispers, drawing out the words, making them seep under my skin and straight through my heart. His words and his tone are everything to me. I embrace him harder, drawing him closer to me and letting my lips graze the skin of his neck. Inhaling his scent feels like imbibing life itself. The aroma of hope and rebirth swirling inside my lungs.

All too soon, he releases me but only to find the small box that had been long forgotten on the bed of the truck. Inside is a ring, a real ring that he tells me he bought five years ago.

"I saw it when I went to Chicago to check out the art program there. I thought it would be so perfect on your finger. I had kept it with me ever since," he says with a chuckle. He takes the ring from where it's tucked and slowly slides it on my finger. It's a simple silver band with tiny crystals embedded in it. It's elegant and fits beautifully. Peeta knows me so well and has picked a perfect ring for me.

"I promise I will take care of you and your baby all the days of my life. You both are the most important person in my life right now. I am so happy and grateful to start this life with you," he vouches. With the softest of gestures, Peeta kisses my forehead as if I am or we are what he says. The most important and precious people in his life. I pull him closer to me, wanting his embrace and imagining a whole life with my best friend.

- The End -

#fluff #everlark #marriage proposal #unplanned pregnancy #bestfriends!everlark #dandelionlovesyou writes #drabbles to tide over my weekend

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lunarflux · 4 years ago

Text

"i felt your arms reach for help, and not a muscle in my body could keep me from holding onto you so tightly"

lee felix x reader

genre — fluff!au

tw: suggested abusive relationship

suggested background music: x

note: i like to put a bit of my life into my writing - i had a dream the other night that i saw my abusive ex and hid behind a member of skz lol

You never usually went out on the weekends. It's always been that way. Maybe once a month, you'd entertain the occasional invite out for dinner and drinks, but it had been a while since you'd gone out so casually with your small group of friends.

Clubs were always dark, and you were never the type to run into the crowd. So there you stood by the bar, watching your friends as you nursed your beverage, the sweat from the glass dripping down to the floor. You wanted so badly to have fun, but this just wasn't your scene anymore.

After the departure of your ex-boyfriend, you realized just how much you missed out on. Your friends no longer waited for you because they'd just expected you to say no. It took over a year to realize your relationship had grown toxic, and no partner should ever keep you from experiencing life. Being in a relationship meant sharing a life - not becoming someone else's.

The need to be alone washed over you, remembering the last argument with your ex over reprioritizing your life. To him, friends came second. You just couldn't live like that anymore.

You're free now - and you still haven't adjusted to that feeling.

Club patrons would stand next to you and try to strike up a conversation, but as cold as ever, you avoided their gaze and sipped from the now watered down beverage, still dripping down your hand.

One in particular didn't try to talk to you. In fact, he stood at the bar much like you did, checking his watch, his phone, whatever he could to seem occupied. He glanced at you every now and then. Through the chaotic lights, he'd catch your eye, and he'd smile.

All you could see were the faint hints of the freckles scattered across his cheeks.

After about the fifth time noticing him check his phone, you leaned over. "Did your date bail on you or something?"

He chuckled. "No. I'm just killing time, so my friends stop bugging me about hanging around their apartment so much."

The conversation died as soon as it started, but you two stayed in place. You'd toast with him to every new glass, and then you'd go back to how you were - standing by the bar, killing time.

"y/n - "

Steadying yourself, you looked past your freckled partner only to find a familiar - unwelcome - face.

Staring your ex in the face for the first time in three months, the only thing you could do was stare. Your legs locked in place, and it felt like this club was just another nightmare.

"What are you doing here -" The familiar stranger took a step towards you.

It was a reflex.

All at once, you dropped your glass and found yourself gripping onto the denim sleeve of your drinking partner.

The blonde looked down at you, noticing the vice grip on his arm. He swore he could feel the tension built up within you as you just stood there, holding onto him like a scared child even though he was nothing but a stranger for the night.

Your view changed, and now you were looking at his back. Your drinking partner stood in front of you, his hand holding yours protectively.

"Can I help you?" He said to your ex who merely examined the sight before him like it couldn't possibly be happening.

"You her boyfriend?" Your ex spat with a matching sneer.

"I said, can I help you."

Trying to maneuver around your shield, he laughed, and it was a cruel sound. "So two years just in the fucking trash, and now you've moved onto this guy?"

You whispered into your protector's sleeve. "Please leave."

"Go - " The still nameless blonde nodded his head towards the crowd. "Before I call security for harassment."

"No need." Your ex took a swig of his drink. "You can have her."

The interaction only lasted a minute, but you swore you couldn't breathe. They never tell you about this kind of aftermath from a bad breakup. You were supposed to feel elated that this villain was out of your life after years of over-controlling behavior and manipulation tactics. This was supposed to be your new life.

Still stuck in place, you followed robotically as your protector pulled you up the stairs and out into the street. It was only then that he let go of your hand to cradle your face, wiping away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb.

"Are you okay?"

"I -" You let out an uneasy breath. The fresh air almost hurt to inhale. "Yes, I'm fine. I just didn't.... expect to see him so soon."

"What's your name?"

"y/n"

"y/n, my name is Felix. Have you eaten yet?" He took off his hat and placed it on your head, securing it tightly like it was a new shield to keep you safe.

Shaking your head, you let him lead you down the street to the closest night market. It was a little past midnight, but it was still crowded. Bumping into patrons, Felix grabbed your hand again and led you through the crowd.

Stopping in front of a dessert cart, he guided you to stand next to him. "Well?"

"It's fine, I should go."

Felix squeezed your hand. "Come on. It's late. You're clearly shaken up. I don't think anyone should be alone like that."

He was right though it pained you to admit it. Your fun Friday night went from decent to shit in less than five minutes, and now this handsome freckled stranger was the one to try to comfort you.

"I have a thing about sweets." Felix looked up at the selection of ice cream. "Brownies and ice cream - it's like my comfort food."

"Mine, too." You finally noticed how warm his hand was.

He held up two fingers to the part-time worker before letting go of you to grab both of the treats.

"I can pay you back." You took a spoonful of vanilla. "I'm sorry. I think I ruined your night out."

Felix shook his head, clearly enjoying the frozen treat. "You didn't ruin anything. I'm just sorry your night got cut short because of... your ex, right?"

You nodded quietly. "I'm sorry."

"What are you apologizing for?"

"Well, I - "

"I've only known your name for ten minutes, and you've apologized to me twice already." Felix's freckles were much more visible now, and it suited him. He looked kind, and his smile was bright before softening to concern. "Did he make you feel like you had to apologize for everything?"

Poking your spoon around your ice cream, you couldn't find the words. Felix took your silence as a 'yes.'

"That doesn't seem like any way to treat your girlfriend."

"I mean, some of it might have been my fault - "

Felix interrupted your excuses with a spoonful of chocolate. "Stop."

"But I -"

"- am single now. And I am not him." He grinned again. "So just erase everything he made you feel like you needed to do, and just be in the moment with me. Okay?"

"It was just," you tried to find the words. "I don't know. I haven't done this in a really long time, and I know not everyone is like that. But I don't even really know you."

Felix placed his hand on your head, his smile still comforting and genuine. He pulled you close to him. "Well, I guess we're going to have to change that."

It was another Friday night, but now these nights were taken up by Felix dropping by your apartment with freshly baked brownies and a new movie.

He never passed the boundaries of holding hands and hugs. It almost made you wonder how you ended up here with this person who was nothing more than a fellow bar patron at some point.

"Can I ask you something?"

Felix was scooping ice cream onto the brownies. He offered you a spoonful, "What's up?"

The words got caught in your throat again. It's only been two months. You hadn't returned to the club since, and you were finally sleeping well again. It was almost like having Felix kept the nightmares away. Simply knowing he was there did more healing than anything else ever did.

You didn't want to ruin it.

"Never mind." You grabbed your bowl and settled in front of the TV.

Felix looked back at you. Lately, it was like you always started out tense in front of him, and he was dying to know why.

An hour into the movie, Felix finally noticed that you weren't paying attention. Your dessert was left half unfinished which was unusual. You just sat there beside him, staring at the floor.

He poked your cheek before reaching over to pause the movie. "What's on your mind?"

"It's nothing."

"y/n, come on." Felix sighed. "What is it? Are you having nightmares again? Did you see him again?"

It shouldn't feel odd, but you didn't expect him to find you so predictable. "No, I just have a lot on my mind."

"Okay, so tell me."

The silence filled the room again.

"Is this something you can't tell me?"

"That's not it, I just don't know how to tell you -"

"Try!" Felix laughed. "I haven't seen you this speechless since the night we met."

Thinking about that night brought so many mixed feelings. It was like seeing the evil witch and meeting your prince charming all at once. After your ex said those things, it was like something just held you back. It just always seemed too soon to say anything - no matter how much you liked Felix, no matter what he did you help you heal and just be happy. If this is what a relationship is supposed to be like, you didn't know how to operate. This was a book on love you'd never dared to read before.

"It's nothing." You said quietly.

Felix almost looked disappointed. He looked down at the floor, shuffling his feet together. "Should I leave?"

"What? No -"

"I just feel like I'm bothering you."

"You're not bothering me!" You grabbed his hand. There it was again, one of the two romantic gestures that wouldn't be pushed any further.

Felix held your hand gently, stroking your thumb with his. "So do you want to tell me what's on your mind?"

You leaned forward, resting your head against his arm so he couldn't see how flustered you were.

"I just don't know when the right time is."

"Meaning?" Felix had every right to be confused.

"How long is long enough to be over someone and move on?" You kept your head down. You didn't want him to see you crumble like this. You felt so weak and tired at the thought of exposing yourself like this.

You and Felix sat in silence for a moment. His grip on your hand was tighter than usual, but his demeanor was difficult to read.

"Is that what's been bothering you? You don't want me to think you've moved on too quickly?"

You nodded against his arm, still hiding your face.

He pulled you up and into his arms again, holding you securely. He smelled like vanilla and musk today. He hid his face in your neck, and you stayed like that. This was the safest you've ever felt, and being here with him finally stopped that awful feeling of not knowing what it was to want to share your mornings with someone. Felix wasn't a burden. He was the sunshine, and his warmth was your safety.

Taking a deep breath, Felix finally sat upright nodding to himself. "Okay, so let's talk."

"Talk away." You almost giggled at the flush on his cheeks.

He brushed the hair away from your face, keeping hands cupped on the sides of your neck.

"There is no time limit for being ready, okay?"

Felix's eyes stayed on yours.

"If you're over him, then you're over him. Fuck that guy, he was awful. And I know you think that with the timing - meeting me that night - it was a burden, wasn't it? Because there was no way you could ever tell if you were ready or if you'd just found a distraction." Felix smiled softly. "Do you trust me?"

You nodded quietly, eyes feeling awfully heavy.

"Well, I trust you. And I trust you know that this burden of never knowing will go away on its own, okay?"

"I just don't want to hurt you." You tried to pull away with no avail.

Felix released another heavy sigh.

He searched for something in your eyes before making his decision.

His kisses were like his hugs - warm and comforting. He was gentle, rubbing the edge of your face with his fingers. The small pitter-patters of his breath against your cheeks tickled.

Felix kissed you sweetly in silence. The moonlight had already set on the apartment, but he just stayed with you in the moment, feeling like if there was ever a time, it was now.

Leaving a final kiss on the tip of your nose, he sat back.

"Take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

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chatonne-rousse · 3 years ago

Text

Turtle-y Awesome

@sketchy-panda sent me the following ask last week:

...and this is the story that sprang from that ask. You never know what you're going to get when you share a headcanon with me! 😉

Read it on Ao3 here.

"...et puit, quand il fut bien certain que personne ne pouvait le voir, Benjamin alluma sa veilleuse."

Adrien turns the last worn page and sets the book beside his knee on Hugo's bed.

"What do you think, kitten? Benjamin was turtle-y being a scaredy-cat, wasn't he?"

Hugo giggles, eyes bright. "He's not a cat, Papa, he's a turtle!"

Adrien nods sagely at his son. "Right you are," he says, patting the book's cover. "If this book tortoise anything, it's that Benjamin is definitely a turtle."

The number of turtle puns in the world is finite, and Hugo has heard his dad tell them all repeatedly, but he still laughs every time. The sound is music to Adrien's ears. He grins as he leans down to tuck the duvet around Hugo's shoulders and lifts his son's dark fringe to place a kiss on his forehead.

"Can we read another story, Papa? I'm not even tired."

Hugo's big green eyes scrunch shut as he yawns widely.

"Mmhmm. I can tell. You know what?" Adrien grabs another stuffed turtle from the bookcase and tucks it in beside the Carapace plushie already cradled in Hugo's arms. "Monsieur Vert looks very tired. He was almost sleeping over there! Maybe if you hold him really, really gently, that will help him fall asleep. I'm sure Carapace is tuckered out after a long day of superheroing, too."

"He is," Hugo says, nodding. He strokes his little hand up and over Monsieur Vert's soft shell. "I'll help them, Papa."

Adrien smiles even as his chest squeezes with emotion. "I know you will, my kind-hearted kitten." He can't resist pressing another kiss to Hugo's forehead and delights in receiving a loud, smacking kiss to his own cheek in return.

The turtle lamp on the nightstand is switched off and the Carapace nightlight beside the bookshelf activates, dim light glowing green through the plastic.

"Bonne nuit, ma petite tortue."

He watches his son cuddle his turtle and Carapace close as the closing door slowly eclipses the bed in shadow from the hallway light. Leaving the door open a crack, Adrien listens for a moment as Hugo gets comfortable in his bed.

He smiles as he pads down the hall toward Emma's room to join his wife for another round of goodnight kisses for their precious kittens.

*****

"Kitty, this is getting ridiculous. How is that the only thing he wants for his birthday?" Marinette shakes her head, but her grin betrays her lack of any real annoyance.

Adrien rubs his face and groans. "I know. Believe me, I know. Can you imagine if Nino knew?"

That surprises her. "You haven't told him? I told Alya ages ago when he said Carapace was his favorite." She thinks for a moment. "I don't think I've shared the, um...depth of the obsession, though."

He stares at her, deadpan, before they both laugh.

"Turtles I could handle, Mari. They're cute. They're green." He bats his eyes at her and she swats his arm playfully. "But Carapace? Carapace? When Chat Noir is right there? I don't get it."

"Awww, Chaton. Is my kitty jealous?"

"Of course not," he says, pouting, though he can't keep up the ruse and his smile breaks through. "Okay, maybe a little."

"Nino made a wonderful hero, and is the perfect holder for Wayzz, and you know it."

She scooches closer to him on the sofa and rubs his back gently. His eyes close for just a moment before opening them to find his wife gazing at him with what might just be his favorite look in her eyes - a teasing glint, a touch of heat, and an endless well of love. Everything goes fuzzy momentarily, but he catches her next words clearly.

"Besides, my favorite hero will always be Chat Noir. Always."

"Yeah?" he breathes.

She nods.

Her eyes go wide when he hauls her petite frame from the sofa beside him and settles her across his lap. She laughs as she wraps her arms around his neck and presses a kiss to his lips.

"What a coincidence, My Lady," he murmurs into the whisper of space between them, "because my favorite hero--" He pauses, kissing her again, "is also Chat Noir."

There's a beat of silence and then she's laughing, pressing her face into the crook of his neck to muffle her giggles. His arms tighten around her shaking shoulders as he laughs along with her, swept away by the sweet sound he will always love. There's no joy in the world quite like making his wife laugh.

"You know I'm kidding, Bug," he finally whispers into her hair when their laughter subsides. "Emma and I share a favorite hero. The greatest of all. Prettiest, too. Oh, wow, is she ever beautiful. And strong. And smart."

"Rena Rouge?" Marinette asks cheekily, her nose still pressed to his neck.

"Nooooo," he croons, tickling her sides until she laughs again. "It's Ladybug, jumping above, Lady magique et lady chance!"

"Kitty, no!" she begs through her giggles, "Don't get that in my head!"

"Too late!"

He silences the last of her laughter when he captures her lips with his, twin sighs mingling in the late-night quiet of the living room.

With forever in his arms and their shared future asleep down the hall, Adrien simply loses himself in this blissful moment, forgetting that their baby will turn five next weekend, that the passage of time is as inevitable as the dichotomy of creation and destruction. Wrapped up in his wife, time seems to stop altogether. Marinette - her love, her care, their unshakeable bond - is eternal.

But of course, the clock still ticks. And when they part a few minutes later, after one last kiss and a nuzzle of her nose against his, he still has to ask.

"So we're really throwing Hugo a Carapace-themed birthday party?"

She nods. "Yep."

"And we're buying him the new Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker, complete with Carapace action figure, power-ups, costume changes, a Turtle-mobile sports car that Nino never had, and four different colored shields that he also never had?"

"There's a jet, too, for some reason. But...yep."

Adrien nods slowly, a smile spreading across his face. "He's going to love it."

"Oh, he is," she affirms, her grin matching her husband's. "And so is Uncle Nino."

He snorts a laugh and pulls her close once more, breathing in the familiar scent of her shampoo.

"This'll be hilarious."

Marinette smiles against his shoulder.

"Yep."

*****

Everything is green.

Their normally colorful apartment seems to have transformed into an emerald dreamscape that doubles as a turtle sanctuary.

Everything is green, and there are turtles everywhere.

Sea turtles, tortoises, turtles of all kinds - including a certain turtle-themed superhero - adorn every surface. Adrien had been surprised by the amount of Carapace party merchandise he was able to find online. He's used to the numerous Carapace items in Hugo's bedroom, pieces he's added to his collection one by one over the past year or so. But this, his best friend's face dangling from streamers, emblazoned on little party hats, is just a little weird.

He's proud, though. A little jealous, a lot amused, and very, very proud. No desperately sad, pitifully lonely teenage boy has ever found a better friend than Nino Lahiffe. He's the brother of his heart, the mellow to his anxious, the staunch protector of their little group of best friends and hero teammates. Adrien has to admit that Hugo has great taste in favorite superheroes.

Someday he'll discover that his idol is also his Uncle Nino, but today is not that day. Today, the magic and wonder still shines in his son's eyes, and it's a beautiful thing.

Adrien putters around the kitchen making last-minute preparations to the food and drink selection, making sure there are plenty of cups and plates (all printed with a Carapace action scene, of course) stacked on the island. Oddly, he couldn't find Carapace napkins to go along with the other paper goods, but Marinette had saved the day by snagging a pack of sea turtle patterned napkins that coordinated perfectly in a pinch.

He smiles at the thought of his resourceful bug, his grin widening as he hears her welcome guests at the door. This is followed by a squeal of glee when Hugo and two of his classmates run off to his bedroom to play. Adrien shakes his head, still smiling. He'll have to lure them out in a bit with snacks and the promise of gifts and cake.

It's not like he doesn't already know from several years of experience that children's birthday parties are mostly adults mingling and intermittently making sure the kids don't get into too much mischief as they play together.

He takes the spinach quiche from the oven where it was warming up and sets it on the table with the other food, rebelliously placing a black potholder with a neon green pawprint pattern under the hot ceramic dish.

A towering, tiered tray of green macarons has pride of place on the dining room table, the top half of each cookie painted to look like a turtle's shell in edible glittering gold. They look almost too pretty to eat, and the same goes for the expertly-decorated turtle cake nearby, made by Hugo's grandparents and brought straight from the bakery for his big day.

The vegetable plate is an array of green, from broccoli to peppers to celery. The party has barely begun, but the celery is already running low, thanks to Emma's clandestine snacking in the hours beforehand.

Everything is green, and Hugo loves it. And that's what it's all about, really.

*****

Adrien is on his way back from checking in on the now half dozen kids playing in Hugo's room when he hears Alya's laughter from the entryway. Clearly she's spotted the party decor. He rounds the corner to find Marinette hugging her best friend, Alya's pregnant belly only getting in the way a bit and not stopping her from throwing her arms around Marinette's shoulders.

"Sorry we're late, Mari," she says, then pitches her voice to a stage whisper. "I had to pee. Twice." She leans back from the hug and cradles her bump. "Actually, I'm just going to..." She points down the hall, and Marinette laughs.

"Go for it, Als. We've all been there."

Nino is still crouched by the door, helping his daughter out of her jacket and shoes. He just shakes his head and laughs. She races off to find her "cousins" and Nino stands, kissing Marinette on each cheek and wrapping Adrien in a hug.

Surveying the apartment over Adrien's shoulder, he claps him on the back and says, "I love what you've done with the place. Very inspired design choice."

Adrien rolls his eyes and all three of them laugh.

"Hugo is obsessed with turtles. You have no idea."

"Oh, I think he has some idea, Minou." Marinette smiles at her husband over her shoulder, linking arms with Alya when she joins them again and ushering her into the green-bedecked living room.

He glances sidelong at Nino with a sheepish grin. "This isn't too weird for you, is it? It was all Hugo's idea. He hasn't stopped talking about his 'Carapace Turtle Party' for weeks," Adrien says, air quotes included.

"Nah, mec, it's cool. Kind of flattering." Nino raises an eyebrow and laughs. "What do you think he'll say when you tell him someday?"

Adrien just shakes his head. "Probably ask if you can adopt him and be his dad instead." His smile is teasing but just a touch rueful.

Nino laughs again. "No way, man. Number one, I've already got enough kids. Number two, you're the best dad. They love you like crazy, bro. Seriously."

His chest fills with warmth. Nino is such an incredible friend. And he's right (about the last bit, at least).

"They're incredible, Nino. Being a dad is..." He trails off, unable to find the words.

"I know, dude." He claps Adrien on the shoulder. "They're a pain in the ass, but they make up for it by being totally awesome."

Nino glances around, finally spotting the table full of green food and turtle-themed treats.

"Wait. Bro. Is that a turtle cake?"

*****

"You know," Nino says a few minutes later, washing down a matcha macaron with a swig of turtle punch, "I could get used to this. It would mess with my head, but after a while--" he looks at the cup with his face on it and shrugs, "it's not so strange. Better than having my face plastered on a billboard outside the Galeries Lafayette."

Adrien groans. "Et tu, Brute? Why would you remind me of that?"

"Because I can." Nino takes another bite of macaron and nudges his best friend's shoulder, laughing.

*****

As the kids snack and carry on, Adrien finally decides it's time to let his best friend see the Carapace shrine that is his son's bedroom.

Nino takes in Hugo's completely green, turtle-filled bedroom as Adrien waits with bated breath beside him for his reaction.

It is, as usual, relatively chill.

"Little dude has good taste!"

"Indeed." Wayzz peeks from Nino's collar with a pleased smile on his face. "The turtle has always symbolized wisdom, strength, and longevity." His tiny smile widens. "I'm also partial to the color green."

Nino steps farther into Hugo's room to examine the bookcase. "I...did not know they made this much Carapace merch."

"Believe me, there's more. We have to draw the line somewhere." Adrien closes his eyes and sighs. "Although he does brush his teeth with a Carapace toothbrush."

Nino's laugh starts as a snort and builds when he spots the Carapace wastebasket beside Hugo's bed and the Carapace plushie propped against his pillow. It turns positively raucous when he sees his best friend's face.

"Holy crap, dude," he wheezes. "This is hilarious. You must be so jealous."

"I am not!"

"You totally are."

"Well--" Adrien sputters, "Marinette is, too!"

"Not as much as you are, Kitty!" she calls from the living room.

Adrien throws his hands in the air. Nino doubles over.

"Chat Noir is cool, too," he mutters, petulant.

A still-laughing Nino pats his arm consolingly. "If it makes you feel any better, Chat Noir is my favorite hero...after Rena Rouge."

That actually does make him feel better, but he's not telling Nino that. Instead, he just grins a sly half-smile at his best friend. "Good save, man."

"Hey, I know which side my bread is buttered on, mec. Don't act like you don't."

Adrien is helpless to the smile that spreads across his face.

Nino groans. "You've been married for seven years, dude. Are you ever not going to go all gooey just thinking about Marinette?"

Adrien quirks an eyebrow and glances sidelong at him. Nino nods once and pats Adrien's shoulder.

"That was a dumb question, wasn't it?"

"Yep," Marinette says from the hallway behind them.

Adrien's heart beats faster at the twinkle in her eye. He wonders how much she heard. Probably all of it - she always did have sonic hearing, but motherhood seemed to ramp it up to eleven. Not much escapes his wife.

"Time for cake and presents," she announces. "Nino, you can revel in Hugo's Carapace shrine later."

"And I will, don't you worry," Nino says with a laugh as he turns to head back to the party.

Adrien throws an arm over his best friend's shoulder and smiles brightly at Marinette.

Hugo has merch, but Adrien has a real, live Ladybug who promised eternity to her Chat Noir. He holds his own favorite superhero in his arms every night, and nothing, nothing compares to that.

*****

Surrounded by wrapping paper and bows, the birthday boy sits on the floor with one last gift in front of him. The box is taller than he is when seated, and he has to stand up on his knees to tear the paper off the top. As soon as he can see what's inside, he shouts with glee and jumps to his feet. Overjoyed, he scampers around the coffee table to his parents, first thanking Marinette with a hug and kiss, then getting swept up in Adrien's arms for a bear hug.

The fact that Hugo doesn't push away from him to return to his barely-unwrapped gift is not lost on him, nor is the fact that he abandoned it and thought to thank them first in his excitement.

Sometimes Adrien feels like he's been given so much more than he deserves. Marinette alone is a blessing beyond his imagination, but Emma and Hugo, too? It's too much and he knows it, so he holds them close and relishes every single moment like this one with his little boy hugging him tight and murmuring thanks into his neck.

A few minutes later finds Hugo examining every detail of his new treasure (after Adrien wrangled all the parts out of their plastic-encased prison).

He claps his hands when he sees that this set comes with a bonus Chat Noir action figure in addition to Carapace and his shields of many colors.

"Maman!" he cries, jubilant, holding Chat Noir above his head so she can see. "Look! It has Chat Noir! You love Chat Noir!"

Blushing, Marinette pointedly avoids looking in the direction of the two moms of Hugo's school friends who've stayed for the party but smiles widely at her son. "I do. He's my favorite superhero of all time."

Hugo nods, turning to his dad where he sits beside him on the floor, struggling to snip the tiny plastic anchors holding each piece to the cardboard backing.

"See, Papa? He's Carapace's sidekick."

"Hey!" Adrien says indignantly. He looks up from the mess of cardboard and plastic in his lap as Marinette, Alya, and Nino laugh.

Nino, best bro that he is, chimes in. "Nah, little man, Chat Noir is no one's sidekick. He's way too brave and cool for that." He grins at Hugo and points first to the Carapace action figure on the coffee table and then to Chat Noir in his hand. "They're a team. Best friends and superheroes at the same time. That's why they're so awesome."

Hugo looks at the Chat Noir figure for a long moment. "Wow," he breathes. "Chat Noir is as cool as Carapace." He says it like a revelation that's rocked his entire worldview.

Alya sniffles and Marinette hands her a tissue.

"Okay, but Ladybug is still the coolest," Emma pipes up from Hugo's other side.

All the adults besides Marinette nod. Adrien reaches around Hugo to pat Emma's back.

"You're absolutely correct, kitten."

Marinette blushes again and Alya blows her nose.

Hugo tucks Carapace into the driver's seat of the Turtle-mobile with Chat Noir beside him as his passenger, racing the sports car across the rug toward his friends so they can play with his new toys, too.

Adrien looks from his son to his own best friend, and Nino gives him a thumbs up and a grin.

*****

Later, when the dishes are washed and their living room looks slightly less like a turtle habitat, Adrien sits on the sofa with a cup of tea and watches Hugo play with his new, treasured birthday gifts. The Shell-ter Secret Hideout Super Bunker is open, its many accessories strewn around Hugo where he sits cross-legged, Carapace in his left hand and Chat Noir in his right.

"I'll protect you!" "Carapace" cries, Hugo's voice pitched to sound brave and true but still carrying his sweet child's tone.

"Thank you for keeping My Lady safe, Carapace!"

Adrien snorts a surprised laugh into his tea. "Chat Noir" speaks in a husky growl, though Hugo gives him a note of cheery confidence, as though he truly appreciates Carapace's brave deeds, as though Chat Noir can take the decisive cataclysmic swing knowing his beloved partner is safe from harm.

And honestly, Hugo has the right of it. Adrien wonders how his son could possibly know that this exact scene - with slightly different dialogue, of course - played out many times over, years before he was born.

Hugo mimics the sound of an explosion, then an "oof!" as Chat Noir falls to his back but springs up again quickly. Just as Carapace returns to Chat's side with a confident, "What can I do to help save the day, Chat Noir?", Marinette's hands snake around Adrien's shoulders from behind, surprising him.

He sets his mug on a coaster on the end table and wraps his hands around her forearms, pulling her in closer. Leaned over the back of the sofa, she nuzzles his cheek with hers before pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"I think we pulled off the dream turtle party pretty well, don't you, Chaton?"

"Oh, we turtle-y did."

Adrien delights in the huff of laughter she exhales against his cheek. That might be the most overused pun in the house, but sometimes it still lands just right. They watch Hugo play, matching grins making their cheeks press closer together.

"Looks like that was one shell of a gift, eh?"

He swoons dramatically, his head falling to the back cushion of the sofa so he looks at Marinette upside-down. "My Lady, you know what it does to me when you pun."

"Oh, I do," she says, completely unapologetic, and boops his nose.

He just has to lean up to kiss her because, well, she's so beautiful and he loves her so much and she's right there.

They break apart a moment later when they hear Emma call for Marinette from her bedroom. She plants one last upside-down kiss on his forehead and lets her hands drift slowly across his chest and shoulders as she stands.

She gives him a wry smile. "Duty calls."

"Hmmm," he hums thoughtfully, picking up his tea and taking another sip. "And here I thought her name was Emma."

Marinette groans at him as she walks away, and the sound catches Hugo's attention.

"Papa? Will you play superheroes with me?"

Of course. Always. I will never, ever be too busy for my kittens, he thinks.

"Sure, buddy," he says instead.

Finishing his tea in one big gulp, he slides from the sofa and scampers on hands and knees like a giant cat to where his son is playing. Hugo giggles at his dad's ridiculousness.

Adrien takes stock of the many accessories scattered around the play set and asks, "What are Chat Noir and Carapace up to today?"

Hugo explains the situation, the bad guy's motives, and what the heroes need to do to save Paris from disaster. Adrien listens carefully. Looking up at him with green eyes that match his own, big and wide and crinkled at the corners with his happy smile, Hugo offers the Chat Noir action figure to his dad.

"Will you be Chat Noir, Papa? He's Carapace's best friend in the world and they need to work together to save the day."

Adrien cradles the action figure in one hand and gently pats the pocket where Plagg hides with the other. His kwami presses a paw against his chest in return. Overwhelmed, all he can do is grin at Hugo and try not to cry.

"It would be my greatest honor," he vows grandly, holding up a hand in oath. "I purr-omise to be the best hero I can be. Cat's honor."

Hugo laughs. "You said honor twice."

"So I did. That's because it's very important."

His son nods solemnly, then reaches for Carapace's super jet. He places the hero in the cockpit and flies the jet around his head, making zooming noises.

"Are you ready, Chat Noir? I'm coming to pick you up!"

The jet has only one seat, but that doesn't seem to bother Hugo. Adrien readies the tiny plastic baton in Chat Noir's hand and uses it to vault from his own knee into the imaginary sky over Paris.

"Meow-velous!" he crows, delighted. "This cat is ready to be whiskered away in your very realistic jet! Allons-y, my turtle friend!"

Hugo giggles, Adrien's heart melts, and they set off on a grand adventure together.

#domestic fluff #dadrien #mominette #hugo loves turtles #and carapace #and uncle nino loves it #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #adrienette #future fic #family fluff #thanks for the idea sketchy!#gift fic #ml fanfiction #ml fanfic #ml #miraculous ladybug #my writing

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loneliestmuffin · 3 years ago

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Check my story out on Ao3!

Under the Rain(s)

Character Growth?

[Lal/Colonnello/Reborn]

The Rain is beating harshly against the car's windows. The downpour was sudden afterall. Even so, Colonnello isn't really paying much attention to it. He's just... Focused on what might soon be. Lal feels the same way. Her hand fits perfectly into his and she gives him a tighter squeeze every now and then.

His beloved Lal should never have to sound his anxious, but.... Fuck, even he's nervous as hell. "Do you... Do you think Renato was serious? I mean..."

Colonnello sighs softly, watching as the car's window wipers go. It's truly a big storm this time around isn't it... Not very fitting to the nervous excitement that's blossoming between them. "I know that dork, Lal. He would never joke about this kind of thing. Never. He loves kids too much."

Lal sighs softly, pulling her hand free to properly stop the car then. They've arrived at Ren's current hideout. Some fancy Bungalow at the outskirts of some unimportant town. Colonnello gently grabs Lal's arm, preventing her from exiting the car just hey. "Lal."

Lal snaps to him, frowning and nervous, so Colonnello kisses that anxiety away. She needs some reassurance... and so does he, honestly. "No matter what happens in there, we have each other. Okay?"

Lal sighs sharply, relaxing all at once, nodding briefly. "Yeah. Did we bring an umbrella?"

Colonnello grins, pulling out the bright pink abomination Skull left in the backseat after their.... Escapades last week. Lal gives him a deadpan glare, before ripping the umbrella out of his hand and exiting the car. She takes off towards the house immediately, so Colonnello has to fumble with the car's lock and run the entire way, all while getting rained on.

He gives Lal a fantastic pout, but she isn't paying him any mind. Instead, she's busy shaking the umbrella dry. So it's up to Colonnello to ring the doorbell. Lal grabs his hand in the next moment, still clearly nervous, but like... Reborn's doorbell is ridiculous. It's this... Recording of Skull sweetly saying "Get over here." in an awful southern accent.

It feels like they wait an eternity before Reborn actually opens the door, but it was probably just a few moments. Ren looks... Harried honestly. His hair is a mess, he looks tired and its been a while since Colonnello last saw him in the apple bottom booty shorts.

There's no time to admire Reborn's.... Assets though. Because there, sleeping peacefully in Reborn's arm, happens to be the tiniest little boy with the fluffiest hair ever. Reborn gestures them to be silent and to come in, so they do just that immediately. Lal needs a moment to restart out of her shock, so Colonnello pull her along as they head inside.

Reborn takes a seat in this comfy looking rocking chair, nodding towards the sofa. Colonnello and Lal take their seats and... For a while, they all just silently stare at the sleeping, fluffy boy. Reborn speaks up after another eternity, his voice unbelievably soft. "This kid was send by the Bovino Familiga. To kill me. Me. Can you imagine how goddamn confused I was?"

Lal takes a soft, slow breath. Her shock is understandable. Skull has been rubbing off on all of them for years now. "They... Send a kid.... On a suicide mission..."

Colonnello sighs faintly, leaning back and stretching far. He's the picture of nonchalance, because if he wasn't, he'd be on his way to eradicate a mafia family. And their skies would end up upset over that. "So... That's why you've been on the warpath with those guys... Cause of this lil kid... And you called us over... Because..."

Reborn raises an eyebrow, crossing his legs and getting comfortable, cradling this little child on his chest. "I called you guys over to take care of this kid. Cause I'm not fit to be a father. Not with how things are right now. And... As I understand it, you two have been wanting a boy for a while... No?"

Lal scoots forward a little, taking a better look at the kid. "What's his name? How long has he been here..."

Reborn smiles the faintest bit, clearly smug and already ridiculously proud. "His name is Lambo. I've finally caught him a week ago. But he's been trailing me for two months. He's a clever lil guy, if a bit noisy."

Colonnello gets up of the couch then, taking a seat in front of the rocking chair and resting his chin on Reborn's knee. Lal rests on hand on his shoulder, leaning closer, to take an even closer look.

Reborn rolls his eyes at their antics, but he let's them stay put like that. They spend an hour watching and admiring this boy, before they spend about five hours playing with him. He's a happy, loud little boy and they immediately love him. Colonnello and the boy immediately start rough housing together and Lambo soon shrieks with laughter.

The rain continues to beat on the windows, but inside, in this warmth... A family is growing.

Tomorrow's prompt is Indirect kiss! Who will be smooched?!

#reborn khr #khr arcobaleno #khr fanfiction #khr lal mirch #khr colonnello #khr flufftober #flufftober #khr lambo #the Arcos adopt any child they find

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bbrandy2002 · 5 years ago

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The Fall of Cordonia

Chapter Seven (Final)

A/N: Sorry it has taken so long to get this one chapter finished. I have had several things in my personal life that have been quite stressful, I can't even begin to explain what I've been dealing with and I won't bore you with details. I do want to thank @kingliam2019 for asking about this fic several times, it gave me the little boost I needed and for pre-reading chapters for me. Also @burnsoslow for pre-reading snippets and giving me advice. And @sirbeepsalot who has advised me throughout and is just truly a wonderful person.

C/N: I was told I shouldn't end it this way and didnt plan to, however I had a change of heart. I hope its not too disappointing.

Warnings: DARK!! Gun violence, murder, mental illness, major character deaths, suicide, its brutal....but...its not (you will see what I mean).

Word count: 2909

---------

"Hello Son, I've been expecting you."

Liam and Drake stopped dead in their tracks, slack-jawed as the woman who stood before them became clearer. The once image of virtuous beauty and kindness, now an aged souless boor. Her blonde hair now silver, and her flawless ivory skin had heavily creased and worn.

Her voice cut Liam like a knife as it was a sound he had not heard in twenty five years. There was no love or nurturing in her flat blue eyes, just a haggard woman caught up in her own destructive nature.

Liam fought the temptation and overwhelming urge to run for Eleanor. He needed to feel her long awaited gentle arms wrapped around him again -- to soothe his hurts and wipe away his tears. Like any child would covet from his mother, he wanted her to want to do those things. It soon became clear she was neither interested in entertaining his boyish fantasy nor rekindling their bond.

Cradled in her arms was Liam's infant son-- his own flesh-- and a child he was prepared to give life and limb for if need be.

He stepped forward to approach them. As both of his arms reached out in desperation for Nikolas, Eleanor pointed her gun at him.

Liam fell to his knees in surrender, weakened by the sight of a weapon aimed at his only child. He begged earnestly for her not to hurt his son.

Drake cocked his gun and was ready to enact his own vengance if she hurt the baby.

"You always were soft, my boy," she said wryly as she lowered the gun to her side and shifted a crying Nikolas in her arms.

Liam gave her a pleading look with an arm outstretched towards her. "Mother, I'll do anything if you give him to me. I"m begging you...just give him to me please."

Eleanor rolled her eyes and huffed with annoyance. "Stop your groveling Liam, you sound like your father -- may he roast in flames for eternity." She signed the cross from her forehead to her chest and both shoulders with a dry smile, still clutching onto her pistol.

He eased to his feet cautiously, his mind wracked with confusing thoughts of who he was now dealing with. "Okay." He nodded. "What do you want?"

Eleanor crossed the small sitting room and laid Nikolas in a bassinet. She then placed a pacifier in his mouth to sooth him. She stood, hovering over the baby before flashing an icy glare back to Liam. "I want what I set out for thirty three years ago -- Cordonia."

Like a tidal wave mounting in intensity and wrath, Liam's emotions began to build in ferosity. "You fucking had Cordonia, Eleanor!" He snapped angrily, pounding his fisted hand on the table before tossing a lamp off of it.

"Did you forget that? You were the queen, goddamn you! You had everything a person could ever dream of!" He trailed off and shook his head into the palms of his hands. With his breaths labored, he looked back up with tears in his eyes, "Was any of it real?"

Eleanor ran her tongue over the front of her teeth and stepped away from the bassinet to approach Liam. She stopped just short him and looked up at her towering son, her hands clasped together at her stomach. "I was never supposed to fall in love with your father, you were never supposed to be anything more than a spare to tie me to that kingdom. I had a part to play ... and I do believe, my boy..." She patted Liam's cheek with a cold smirk. "I played it magnificently."

Liam looked down at the petite figure standing before him, a shell of the woman he once knew -- or thought he did at least.

She had the pistol still glistening in her ragged, cold fingers, aimed straight at his heart. Eleanor could pull the trigger right then and nothing would make him feel any worse than the words she just spoke.

Liam swallowed the bile that burned his throat, his eyes dancing upwards, shocked by her admission. His whole entire childhood was a lie and that was a bitter pill to swallow. "I see," he muttered softly with a nod.

"Oh Liam, don't look so glum, it was just politics. I planted all the right people in your brothers life to ensure he would turn into the low life piece of shit he became. I needed to make sure MY heir would sit on the throne. All you had to do was accept the alliance offered to you. You, your sister and I could have conquered the world."

"You are one sick, twisted bitch," Drake spoke coldly through the tension.

She smiled back at him amused. "Why, thank you, Drake...I could say the same of your precious little momma."

"Leave my mother out of this," he growled defensively, playing her words off.

A look of pure delight beckoned Eleanor whose eyes began to glisten as she cast her focus on Drake, "Oh, I could never leave Bianca out of this, she was quite helpful to me at one point. Its amazing the lengths one would go to when blackmailed.", she laughs with a cackle, "Your father never saw it coming from her". She feigns shock before acting like she was shot in the chest.

"Drake, she's a liar, don't listen to her". Liam tried to reason with him before Eleanor got completely under his skin. He didn't know if what she was saying was true, but, he knew he had to plant a seed of doubt before she could plant the seed of revenge.

Drake could only stare at her with teeth clenched and eyes squinted, "What does she mean Liam...what the fuck is she talking about?"

"Bianca was a whore.....", Eleanor continued, with a slight grin.

"Shut up Eleanor", Liam interrupted her.

"......she fucked everyone at court..."

"Shut up!!", Liam raised his voice over hers.

"....I caught her on her knees with Constantine..."

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!!", Liam continued.

"She killed your daddy for me Drake, she thought she could be one of us....such a dumbass, that common trash bitch. She was an easy quick lay according to the men at court. Your daddy stuck around for you and your sister, unlike Bianca, who left after her worn out pussy couldn't pay the bills any longer. That was your momma....that is your momma", she emphasized.

The gun shook in Drake's hand as his finger coiled the trigger backwards. His fathers death and his mothers absence growing up was always a sore spot for him. He could feel his blood boil and an intense heat burn though his body.

Liam shook his head at Drake with an empathetic look, attempting to halt any impulsive reactions. One wrong move from either one of them could be deadly and he couldn't take a chance on Nikolas's life.

"Go ahead Drake", Eleanor continued her taunts, "pull the trigger...like mother, like son...avenge your fathers death and your sisters too...I hear she died nice and slow, exactly as Bianca sucked dick".

"Drake, NO!"

The blast of a gun was inevitable.

--------------------------------

Riley was sitting up on her bed with a blank stare, her back resting against a pillow propped up on the headboard. Bertrand was seated in a bergere across the room, holding a sleeping Bartie.

Liam had texted him earlier about checking on Riley, citing her psychiatrist was a part of Amalas' cronies. When Bertrand arrived to her quarters, it was eerily quiet, passing only a nurse exiting with a full tray of food, Riley hadn't eaten.

As her eyes remained fixed forward, not having moved in the hour he had been there, he felt her gaze shift onto him. Bertrand looked up from Bartie and watched his Queen shed one lonely tear. The look of nothingness, sent a chill down his spine; what was she thinking, did she even have thoughts? What could cause such distress that it would break her daze enough to spare a tear.

Bertrand sat up with the resting Bartie cradled in his arms and laid him in the chair, gently swiping loose hairs to the side of his head. He walked slowly towards Riley, pausing briefly, dumbfounded that her eyes continued to follow him. "Riley?", his voice low and tepid.

He inched closer until he was standing at her bedside, easing himself down to sit next to her on the bed.

Her lush, brown hair now dull and lifeless, clung to her face and pillow; golden skin now ashen and pale. Bertrand thought of her as a sister and it pained him greatly to see such a beacon of personality and life, lay waste. He gazed at his reflection in her eyes intently, searching for a pathway into her mind. "Riley, its Bertrand, talk to me", he whispered, inching closer.

Bartie began to moan and whimper in his sleep and caught everyone's attention. Bertrand's reflection immediately disappeared from Riley's, now covered by a sinister glare. She gritted her teeth and gripped tightly to the sheets covering her frail frame.

Bertrand turned away from her to look at his son who had resumed his peaceful slumber.

"BRADSHAW!!!", Riley screamed so loudly it would curdle rushing blood, swinging a large, golden, candle holder brutally until it met resistance from the scalp of Bertrand. He slid limply from the bed, crashing to the cold, marbled floor below.

Riley watched the blood drip from the candle holder onto her perfectly white sheets, trembling at the realization of what she had just done. Her eyes rolled back as she tossed the weapon across the room, grabbing both sides of her head, rocking back and forth in a state of delirium. Chaos and noise ripping into her weakened mind, driving her further into insanity.

Her anxiety level peak, sweat pouring from her forehead, she now covered her ears to block the sounds that only she could hear.

"Liam is dead, Riley....he.is.dead", Bradshaw spoke with a sardonic laugh.

"No....no....Liam....don't leave me", she spoke through labored breaths and sobs, her dainty nails clawing at her face, leaving deep, jagged marks. She gasped deeply in anguish and pain, and muttered, "Liam....not my Liam".

__________________________

Drake flung backwards, his feet tangled in knots of imbalance, tripping over themselves from the momentum of the blast. He had a soul crushing wound, the one meant for Liam, straight to his heart. He rested after a hardened thud against the wall and slammed face down to the floor.

"Drake!"

Liam lunged forward, grabbing the still, hot barrell of Eleanor's pistol, her finger still tightly woven around its trigger.

Nikolas's startled cries echoed out with the blast, as Liam slung his mothers arm to and fro. For all her fragility, she clung to her gun as if her life depended on it....and it did.

He bent the gun so that it was pointing back at her and wrapped his finger over hers, the one that gripped the trigger so profoundly, and pulled it himself.

Eleanor fell to her knees, clutching her lower stomach, a look of anger and shock, mixed with defeat staring upward at the son she betrayed in every way, "You son of a bitch".

Liam scoffed at the irony of her words, "You're right, I am... a son of a bitch".

She slunk to the ground, lifeless with a pained scowl. A pool of crimson collecting around her like a dam bursting wide open.

He hurried himself to the son he had not seen in weeks, who was still letting out frantic cries as large tears burst from his reddened eyes. Liam wiping his own tears at the sight of his infant child, safe and unharmed. "Its okay Little Love...daddy's here now". As reached in to pick up Nikolas, he felt a seering sting in his back, causing him to let go of his baby before he could even lift him into his comforting arms.

Liam's hands instictively flung to the pain he was experiencing, feeling the warm shred in his shirt and the liquid that seeped through his fingers. It hurt to breath, to even move, but, he turned to see his mother on the floor, pointing the smoking gun up at him.

He inhaled what little air he could, closed his eyes, and spoke silently one last time to himself, "I love you Riley and Nikolas, I always will".

The next sound was the kill shot.

_____________________________

Riley jolted from the bed, tossing the sheet aside, her physical pain mired by the emotional turmoil she was experiencing.

She felt Liam slip away, a deep loneliness sweeping across her heart. She plundered further into her despondant state, knowing she could never live without him, his love, his touch, his arms wrapped around her.

Lost and battered, she found herself alone in the room they shared all their best memories, with a man she thought of as her brother, murdered, accidently, by her own actions.

She slipped to the floor on all fours, weeping softly to herself as she began the long, painstaking trek to the balcony. She crawled over Bertrand, squeezing her eyes tightly closed so that she wouldn't have to see the evil sin she had commited.

She lifted herself up at the balcony railing to a standing position, her knees wobbly from the distant crawl. With the moonlight glowing brighter than she had ever witnessed, Riley admired the stars twinkling and the sounds of crickets singing harmoniously. Her thoughts took her back to her first night in Cordonia, a race in the maze leading to a kiss with a prince. A night very similar to this one.

She peeked over the railing of their fourth floor balcony. The sweet, fragrant aroma of the rose bush below, giving her a sense of calm and ease.

Riley wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing her ams for warmth from the cold night air before closing her eyes. She spoke softly to herself, "I'm coming to you Liam and Nikolas", feeling happiness for the first time since The Fall of Cordonia.

Her tiny body leaned over the railing and she let herself go. Peace and relief would soon overcome her as she flew through the air. The impact was quick and welcomed.

__________________________________

A bright light flickered as chilly hands poked and prodded at her face, fingers forcing an eye open. She squinted and winced as the light was too much on her unadjusted pupils.

"Welcome back, Your Majesty, I'm Dr. Layton. Do you know what happened to you?".

Riley's eyes flickered as she continued to adjust to the lights of the room and the image of the voice who had spoken with her came into focus.

"Queen Riley, can you hear me....do you know why you're in the hospital?"

Riley swallowed hard, realizing how dry her lips were. She tried to moistened them, yet, her tongue was bare, as well. A hand tilted her head forward and a straw was offered to her. Confused, she drew in the cool water that soothed her palate before resting her head back against a pillow. "I...I...died".

"Not exactly", the doctor spoke again while checking her vitals on the monitor, "..you were brought in after the earthquake, a piece of the ceiling fell at the restaurant you were eating in and you took a nasty hit to the head.....you've been out for a few hours".

Riley reached up, tugging the IV cord in her hand, to feel a bandage clinging to the top portion of her forehead.

An older nurse checking on Riley's bandage, asked if she wanted visitors, to which she nodded affirmatively. Not completely sure of what had happened or what was going on, she watched with anticipation as the nurse finished up and walked to the door of her room.

Riley burst into tears moments later when she saw Liam, holding a bright eyed, Nikolas, rushing into her room and racing to her side. They shared a long awaited kiss and exchanges of love, before Liam placed Nikolas in her needing arms. A flurry of emotions passing through her, knowing they both were safe and with her.

Over the next several hours, she learned that several people had been injured in Valtoria from the earthquake, but, no deaths were recorded. Her friends visited or called her one by one and she wept with joy with each person...Mara, Maxwell, Savannah, Bertrand, Drake, Leo, Olivia, Madeleine, Regina and Bastien.

During the quiet still of the night as she laid restless in her hospital room, with Liam and Nikolas laying at her side, she hesitantly shared her dream.

Liam kissed her temple reassuringly, "My love, it was only a dream...I'm here, we are all three here together, our friends and our country are safe....it was just a very bad dream".

"I know", she uttered, "it just felt so damn real...like it was a warning or something".

He wrapped his free arm around her back as she shifted to her side into his embrace, trailing her thumb gently across Nikolas's cheek. "I promise you we are more than prepared for anything that comes our way, we always come out on top, love".

"I hope so....I love you, Liam".

"I love you too darling".

-----------------------------------

"Amalas!", Bradshaw stands from his desk to greet her, "what brings you all the way to Auvernal this late".

She grins slyly with a gleen in her eyes, as he kisses both of her cheeks, "I have an offer I don't think you can refuse.....shall we discuss, Cordonia".

Bradshaw's lips curl with intrique and desire as he offers her a seat, "It's like you read my mind".

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funtimebunnyblog · 4 years ago

Text

Diamante d’Italia: Chapter 5

(Chapter 5: Another day in paradise)

Josuke grit his teeth, his chin resting in his hand as he held the phone slightly away from his ear, though the guffaw that continued to ring out from the speaker could still be very much heard.

He had already called his Mom to check in with her when he first woke up this morning and since he had the whole day ahead of him he waited until after a much needed shower to call his best friend.

That now seemed like a mistake after listening to him howl with laughter for almost five minutes now.

He winced as Crazy Diamonds hands ghosted over the mottled flesh of his back, sharp pinging following their careful movements as the stand dutifully patched him up.

He was just glad the bed made it easier to sit down with that one.

From what he saw in the bathroom mirror, where those junkies had kicked him in the back had left a bruise that was the size of a basket ball and it was as black and green as Rohans signature hair.

Spots of the same colours along with splotches of an ugly purple were also sprouting on his upper left arm and shoulder. Not to mention the particularly ugly one that was currently taking up residence on his thigh and.... a more unsavory place just slightly north of there.

He had definitely been right about hurting in the morning that's for sure because he practically yelped when rolling over, causing him to fall out of bed and onto the carpeted floor to add to it all.

Staring up into the face of Crazy Diamond looking down at him from where he laid half-whimpering and aching all over was not a way he would recommend starting your day.

The fan of the hotel room spun slowly above him from where he sat on the huge marshmallowy bed in only a towel, his damp pale skin starting to dry and chill beneath the breeze.

"--so-so... lemme get this straight-... you..." Josuke rolled his eyes as Okuyasu struggled to keep his giggles in check over the phone. "You get there..... and-... hehehe.... and- not even like 2 hours.... -and you get beat up?"

"Yes." He sighed.

"BWAHAHAHAHA!!!"

"--oh Josuke!" He wheezed into the receiver, dying down into giggles again. "--I'm so sorry buddy- but that's.... -that's funny.... oww... owww my stomach..."

Josuke grunted, pulling the phone away from his head to avoid going deaf in his right ear as more barking laughter rang out.

He could practically feel Crazy Diamonds own eyeroll as they continued their ministrations on his back.

"Yeah, yeah. I know." He groaned. "Just don't tell Mom, I don't want her to worry about me."

"So what happened after? You must've gotten away somehow right? Did CD put them in their place?" His words were almost drowned out by the obnoxious crinkling of a bag in the background, followed by the unmistakable crunch of potato chips drilling into his eardrum.

"No. I didn't even think about it. It was all happening so fast all I could think of was to grab hold of my suitcase and not let go."

"Oh man, you didn't lose your luggage did you?" Okuyasu questioned after swallowing his mouthful of junkfood very quickly. "Your Mom would have a fit!"

A smile found its way to Josukes face, "No actually. Someone helped me, oh man you should've seen him! He put a run to them and he was really cool too!"

Josuke proceeded to tell Okuyasu all about the one and only Abbacchio and their time together along with meeting Bucciarati.

He spared no details in telling him all about the scrumptious meal he had devoured that night, he could practically hear the other teenager drooling all over the phone as he described the juicy details of prosciutto stuffed chicken breast.

Bruno looked very anxious and warned him it was very dangerous to wander the streets at night, most especially when he was a tourist carrying all his possessions that didn't know where to go.

After Josuke had eaten last night, Bruno asked him if he was staying somewhere and the teenager realized he had completely forgotten about finding a Hotel!

The streets by then were dark and it was late, they had talked for so long but the time had just flew right bye. Jouske had grabbed his bag and thanked the two men graciously for the food and their company, making sure he bowed deeply in respect as he done so, about to head out to find one before he was stopped.

More importantly, he wouldn't even be able to read any signs leading to a Hotel.

Josuke realized he had gotten ahead of himself and accepted the mans proposal to take him to the Hotel a few blocks away, which he did and Josuke had to say, the place was like paradise on Earth.

The building itself was huge! Not to mention high-class. The lobby had a chandelier that was the size of his Livingroom back home! And the fountain in the center of it was bigger than the one outside his School!

Bruno chuckled seeing the owlish expression on his face as they entered through the glass sliding doors, the reflection of the golden lights above them on the polished white marble floor made his baby blue eyes sparkle. Abbacchio simply opted for staying outside and smoking a much needed cigarette while his partner helped Josuke arrange a room.

"Oh man!" Okuyasu said through another mouthful of chips. "That sounds A-B-C-Delicious! I wanna eat that!"

"You'll have to bug Tonio about it if you're that eager." Josuke laughed. "Speaking of food, you've eaten a full meal today right?"

The crunching came to a sudden stop.

"Define--"

"As in you've eaten something cooked and not just junkfood." He interrupted, drumming his fingers on his knee, he already knew his answer however.

Silence... he could actually hear the sounds of Stray Cat (whom both boys had taken to aptly nicknaming 'Guns and Roses') purring along with the feint sound of the TV playing in the background.

"Okuyasu!"

"Sorry! I'll eat real food tomorrow!" He whined. "I just forgot is all!"

"I've actually just been binge watching this goofy tv series. I've heard about it for a while but I finally decided to get into it. Man, I'm gonna be so sore tomorrow, I've been sitting on my ass for so long!" He cackled.

Josuke huffed, however deciding to not press him further on the matter and take his word.

Okuyasu needed to take better care of himself and Josuke usually had to remind him of the importance of it, along with helping his friend pilot through all his emotional troubles.

"It's this Anime thing called 'Dodo's Wacky Quest'. It's pretty good!" There was a pause as a indignant 'meow' sounded close to the phone, followed by more rustling of the chip bag. Okuyasu grunted, the phone crackling as he moved to hand the living plant a chip. "The series is pretty long though. But hopefully I'll have most of it done by the time you get back."

'Speak for yourself...' Josuke thought, shifting slightly on the bed to try and inevitably get more comfortable.

Crazy Diamond was almost finished with his back, the worst one was next.

"What series is it?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Huh," Josuke rubbed his chin, smiling. "I'll have to watch some of it with you."

"That'd be cool! Dodo kinda reminds me of you actually. I dunno if I've met any Jio in my life though, dude gives me the willies..."

Crazy Diamond leaned over him and tapped his leg, shooting him a look.

"I'd better go man. I'll try to talk to you tomorrow, remember your promise!" He said into the phone, turning away from his stand.

"Ok. Ok. I will. Jeeze..." the eyeroll he was getting was evident in the others voice. "Be safe JoJo!"

"I will. Bye."

He put the phone back in its cradle on the bedside stand and sighed, swatting away the phantom hands that pulled on the towel covering him and ignoring the exasperated 'Dora' as he shunted it aside himself.

'Lay on your stomach.' Came the telepathic order from Crazy Diamond. 'I can give you a massage after I'm done with the last bruise to help relax you further.'

He was just glad he didn't decide to tell Okuyasu about his last bruise, otherwise he would've probably passed out from laughter, resulting in Josuke to have to end the call promptly.

He'd never be able to live this down from his stand alone....

☆☆☆

There was so much he wanted to do, and so much he wanted to see. He decided to leave his suitcase behind within the safety of his room (not wanting a repeat of yesterday) carrying just his wallet, a disposable camera his Mom had given him to take pictures and his handy dandy comb of course.

Finally walking again and not shuffling along uncomfortably like an old man (as he had been doing earlier), Josuke strutted downstairs to the lobby without a hair out of place.

His precious mane had been properly lathered, rinsed, gelled, combed and hairsprayed and he was ready to tackle the day!

The golden charms adorning his uniform gleamed like his eyes and he walked with pep in his step, shoes shined and clicking on the polished marble floor.

He needed to tackle business first before he went about to getting some breakfast. He had already had a cup of strong instant coffee after the massage given to him by his stand, using the machine inside of his room (this Hotel really had everything).

"Hello." He greeted the lady at the desk in the lobby, a woman in her sixties with greying hair pulled back into a bun, maroon lipstick and matchig rectangular spectacles. "I was just wondering if I could pay for my nightly stay now and maybe pay for tomorrow too?"

"Can I have your name, dear?" She asked, already typing away on the keyboard of the large white box computer before her.

"Josuke Higashikata. J-O-S-U-K-E."

Her long black nails clicked and clacked away loudly on the keyboard, he watched in silence as her dark red lips pursed, her eyes scanning the screen.

"It says here you're already covered for your full stay."

'Embarrassing' wouldn't be a word he would use to describe a situation where he had to call his Nephew and demurely ask if he could get a lift home like a drunk teenager calling a half-alseep Parent in the middle of the night.

He blinked at her, raising both his eyebrows.

"Umm... I don't think that's right. I only booked the room last night..." he trailed off, feeling his heart starting to pound in his chest.

He prayed to God this somehow wouldn't end with him being in debt with no way home.

She hummed, "It says you're fully covered. You just need to inform the Hotel of the date you're departing and a direct deposit is already in order." She explained.

That answered absolutely none of his questions.

"How is that possible?" He asked, doing his best to keep his voice calm as he rubbed the back of his neck idly.

More typing and clicking.

"It says here that your stay has been covered by..... a Mr. Bruno Bucciarati. He arranged for the bill to be footed to him." Came her reply at last, turning in her chair to look at him.

It took the Highschooler a moment to process that, blinking like an idiot as she stared at him.

What.... when.... how did..... why did....?

"Oh.... uh.... I-I see. Thank you." He told the older woman at last, with a half-hearted wave goodbye as he left the lobby, out into the world of golden sunshine awaiting him outside.

Each question seemed to short-circuit in his brain, he couldn't decide on what to ask first.

Josuke finally realized he was lingering and staring as the old woman addressed him again, before averting his eyes, his face tinging a little pink.

Why on Earth would the man put himself through so much trouble? Paying out of his pocket for him at a Hotel where people who looked like they wiped their asses with dollar bills stayed there no less! It didn't make sense!

This Hotel seemed a little one the pricy side, he had actually been wary about staying here the night but didn't want to be rude and ask Bucciarati to take him to another Hotel, so he decided to risk it and see how much it was the next day (silently praying he wouldn't be dialing Jotaro Kujo afterwards with a speech prepared of course).

This however changed everything.

He was still a virtual stranger to Bruno and his partner, and he didn't feel like he had earned such a kind gesture. He didn't have a doubt in his mind that both men were wealthy but this just felt akin to stealing in Josukes eyes.

It was the least he could do. It's what he wanted to do. It's what he was raised to do.

Josuke leaned up against the stone wall of the Hotel, considering his options. He could tell the Hotel that wasn't necessary and to cancel that previous order and allow him to pay.

Or he could find Bucciarati again (it couldn't be that hard) and offer to pay him back, if not in money maybe he could do something in return for him.

That did it.

He took one last look at the Hotel to remember the name as he prepared to cross the street (he needed something to go off of if he was gonna find a way back afterall).

He had a new mission added onto today.

He was going to do some sight seeing, eat some more damn delicious food and keep his eyes open for either one of the men he dined with last night.

"Albergo brillante Diamante..." he murmured, absentmindedly scratching his cheek as he did his best to pronounce the words (in what he hoped was the correct manor).

"Hmm... wonder what that means."

All he truly knew was that he Josuke Higashikata, had a mission he was going to see through today.

...

He mentally added 'buying a dictionary' to his list today as he narrowly avoided a car coming in the street, yelling out a "Sorry!" To the driver laying on his horn (who wasn't supposed to have the right away).

[To be coninued... 》

#Diamante d'Italia #josuke higashitaka

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care-a-lot-creatives · 3 years ago

Note

Hello !!

Can I get an order of soft OnionThief, extra smutty?

Bats my eyelashes ever so cutely

And also claiming 🧋 anon <3

-🧋 Anon

Order up 💕 (btw for anyone wondering why the reader is so specific in this one is because we asked the asker for some specifications since we know them personally)

Soft Top! OnionTheif x Male! Reader

Working a nine to five, deadend job and still having time for a social life and relaxation was something Onion simply couldn't balance. He worked at a computer desk for hours only to come home, eat something questionably mysterious from his cabinets and binge read Bloomic. He, of course, still spent time on the server, fighting with his friends and enjoying himself. Despite the way he speaks to them, he enjoys the company. New members were rare and their newest was a whirlwind of a man. Onion often found himself gravitating towards him despite having no previous desire to be near anyone at all. He supposed that was why he invited him over when the man had advised him to live a little dangerously. Inviting a near stranger over was pretty dangerous to him. Onion had a hard time balancing his life, sure, but Y/N could balance him out just fine.

When he'd been invited over, Y/N was over the moon. He's been flirting and prodding and hoping that if he tried hard enough, Onion would give in and accept that he wasn't going anywhere. Y/N wanted to be close, he wanted to influence Onion in a way no one else could. Despite the lingering anxiety, he was excited for what was to come. When he'd finally arrived at the address specified in Onion's text, Y/N took a deep breath, swallowing his nerves, and knocked on the door. A lanky, average height man opened the door, glasses poised on the bridge of his nose neatly. It fit him so well that Y/N felt a small smile upturn the corners of his lips.

He couldn't believe he was doing something so out of the box, so new. Onion's heart pounded heavy in his chest as he invited the smaller male inside. He was acutely aware of Y/N, his eyes always flickering towards him and trying to swallow his nerves. It was awkward sitting thigh to thigh on Onion's couch in utter silence, both parties flushed and avoiding the other's gaze. Onion vaguely began to wonder if this was what real attraction felt like, not just the mild preference he had with characters in books, but actual, genuine...desire. The thoughts ate up every other idea, and every time his eyes glance to Y/an beside him, he found another thing to look at and admire silently. Y/N's hands looks soft, maybe about as soft as his lips, and god, Onion felt the growing urge to kiss them. He hadn't even realized that he'd been caught openly staring until Y/N asked quietly enough that he was unsure he'd heard him. "Ah..Repeat?"

"I asked of ah...if there was something interesting? About my face, I mean! You keep staring at me a little funny." Y/N laughed it off softly, but was pleasantly surprised by an uncharactaristicly gentle hand coming to cradle his cheek. The movements were calucated still, as though both of them were worried they might ruin the moment. All grew quiet again as they leaned in close. Shaky, soft breath fanned against eachother's skin and before they could find themselves stopping, Y/N's back was flat against the couch cushions, hair splaying out beneath the person he desired most. Onion hovered over his guest's body, chest heaving and heart pounding. When their lips finally connect, it was the taste of relief. Once they'd started, neither even considered stopping. Soft, openmouthed kisses and careful hands, it was as though both were afraid of shattering the other like glass. Onion's hands sliding up Y/N's shirt felt like electric shocks up his spine and the way Onion hummed so pleasantly against his lips was heavenly.

"You are the most breathtaking being I've ever seen..." His head was filling with adoration, praise, turning his logistics to mush. The only thing on Onion's mind was worshipping the sweet man beneath him. Lifting them from the couch, Onion's fingers laced with Y/N's as he led him to his bedroom, without bothering to shut the door, he couldn't bring himself to wait that long. Everything else was insignificant in comparison to Y/N and his warm, soft skin beneath his fingertips. Tugging his own shirt off, he tossed it aside, setting his glasses haphazardly on the nightstand. Y/N giggled, slightly ticklish, as Onion removed his shirt and began peppering slow kisses all across the expanse of his skin. His chest and tummy were well loved, Onion's lips pressing against every stretchmark, every freckle; every bit of insecurity was washed away with his affections. Y/N's teeth sunk into his bottom lip, squirming when the other began to spread the kisses across his clothed bulge, eyes flickering up to view Y/N's reactions. Pulling away elicited a whine from him, opening his mouth to ask for some kind of friction, relief. Before the words could form, they died oh his tongue when Onion pressed their bodies together, securing Y/N's hips against his own. Y/N's whines only increased in volume and urgency when they began desperately rocking against eachother though their jeans.

"Fuck...you're so good, such a good boy for me, Y/N.." The growls and grunts were pressed against Y/N's waiting mouth, praise spilling from Onion's lips relentlessly. Y/N's hands began to reach between them, hastily unbuttoning and unzipping their pants, neither was lacking in enthusiasm, stiff and nearly leaking pre through their boxers. Reacting on pure desire, Y/N separated only enough to squirm his way down Onion's hips, finger thumbing at his underwear's hem. After Onion gave him the go ahead, he peeled the cloth down, the ready member making a soft smack sound as it rested against Y/N's cheek. Onion's hand carded gently through Y/N's hair as he got to work, sliding it against his tongue with a pleased noise. Onion suck in a sharp breath at the sight.

"You're so gorgeous, pet...I don't know if I'll last long when you have a face like that.." Onion could see the way Y/N's clouded over, hazy with need, and he wanted to give him every drop of pleasure he could offer. He pulled him up so he could kiss his lips, hands sliding to push the rest of Y/N's pants and boxers to the floor. All their clothes had been scattered across the room without a care for where they'd land. Sitting down on the bed, Onion pulled Y/N to straddle his lap, their erections pressing into eachother. It was the easiest position for Onion to be close and he pressed his middle and ring finger against the other's lips.

"Open." Compliance, and he slipped the digits into his mouth, sliding over his tongue and coating them in saliva. "Good boy.." Now completely lubricated, Onion pulled his fingers back despite the whine of disappointment from Y/N, instead, the tip of his finger pressed slowly, and as gently as he could manage, into Y/N's entrance. Onion's other hand rubbed soft circles on his back, shushing and comforting the sweet creature in his lap. He'd never been so careful with anything in his life as he was with pumping his finger in and out of his lover, stretching the muscle. He continued up to three fingers, and when gasps and soft grumbles turned into whines and hushed calls of his name, he knew they were ready. Onion had never understood a silly term like 'making love' before, but sitting here, sliding his shaft into a stranger who became so dear to him so quickly, he understood the feeling they described. Y/N's back arched when he bottomed out, gripping onto Onion tightly. Not wanting to hurt Y/N, Oniom waited until his hips ground down into his own before his hands grabbed Y/N's hips so he could move the male up and down his cock, the feeling warm and tight. Y/N's noises only fueled his desire to please, arms now wrapping around his lover, rutting helplessly up into him.

"My love...my sweet gem, so perfect for me..tell me how good you feel.." And yet no words exited the smaller, only babbles and half finished cries of his lover's name. A thin layer of sweat glistened on their bodies, chests heaving and muscles burning. Onion enjoyed being able to grab and hold Y/N all over, his squishy soft belly a beloved quality to him. Y/N's head was swimming, the only thought in his head was incomprehensible begging for more of Onion, closer, harder, more. He was warm and his stomach was practically boiling, his nails digging into Onion's back and shoulders as he shot ropes of cum that splattered up their stomachs and chests, only squishing together and making more of a mess. Y/N rode out his high, his partner releasing into him, hips rocking and pushing his cum further into Y/N with a gentle growl. Neither had ever expected this was how their first meeting would go...but at least Onion took Y/N's advice to love dangerously after all.

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thethirteencreators-blog · 7 years ago

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Chapter 6.5

"The idiot still isn't answering his phone? Is he working late or something?"

This would be such a simple answer and I wish I could just smile and say, "Sure! That is exactly what's keeping him!" However, I know that this is a lie and I have never been good at lying. I twitch when I lie, my lips betray me and form the most devious grin, and my voice sweetens itself to the point of me sounding like a cartoon character from the sixties. "No, he isn't working late. I walked by the café. It's closed, everyone is gone," I explain to Lyric, slapping my hand onto my knee to keep my leg from shaking. My friend purses his lips, a sign that he was either really irritated or really confused. (Good chance of it being both.) The two of us were in his studio apartment, plopped down on his couch, staring blankly at the muted television in the middle of the room. I came to Lyric's place about five minutes ago and caught him in the middle of watching the movie adaptation Hairspray for the thirtieth time. He invited me in and offered me a pop, but I declined. Caffeine was not what I needed right now. I was already jittery enough. Lyric lifts up his arms in a thoughtful gesture. "Have you tried calling his coworker?" I throw him a pointed look. "Why would I have Jasmine's phone number?" It's ridiculous for him to even assume I would have it. "I don't know. She's cute." Is he joking? I can't tell if he's joking. "Not my type. Or yours, I thought." I throw him a questioning look. Lyric chuckles, taking a sip out of a cherry colored bottle of pop. "Hey, I'm pretty open minded." In all the time I've known Lyric, he has not once actually showed any interest in another human being. When I say this, I don't mean he doesn't have romantic feelings for anyone. I mean he literally finds people the most boring beings on the planet, which is why I believe he enjoys acting so much. Up on stage, he isn't surrounded by people anymore, he says, but actors. Actors are not just people in his eyes. What they are is something so much larger with so many different layers to them. Actors are the only people he can discover any intrigue in. "Anyways," I huff, changing the subject back to a more pressing matter than Lyric's so-called open mindedness, "if Jimmy calls or shows up or you see him somewhere for some reason, tell me please? That way I will know he didn't get stabbed thirty-seven times in the chest or hit by a bus." "Why is it always a bus with you? Why can't people be hit by cars anymore?" Lyric points out, getting up from his sitting position and following me towards the front door. I stand there for a second, trying very hard to let my worry go and laugh along with him. "Jimmy is too sly to get hit by a car. If he's gonna be crushed, it'll have to be something huge," I reason, rubbing my lips together. They are so dry. When I see Jimmy, I'm gonna kick his butt for taking my lip balm. My friend reaches around my body and unlocks the door for me. "Jimmy is probably fine," Lyric assures me, his hand on my shoulder. He gives me a tight squeeze, an odd show of affection from the man who hates physical contact. I have to pause when he does this and stare, which he returns with a small smile. Lyric's smiles are so rare. He knows how much I love them. "Don't get all paranoid, man. Knowing that loser, he's probably in the drama room having dinner with his mama." "Why does having dinner with his mom make him a loser? His mom is really cool," I point out. I've never understood why kids are so anti-parent. Yes, my parents weren't perfect and spent eighty percent of their time nagging at me, but I never felt a need to shove them away. I was never ashamed of them, even if they might have been ashamed of me. During the period of time after I came out as pan to them and the day I announced I wanted to go to Broadway, they seemed a little iffy on how they felt about me. We cleared it up, though, and they went back to loving me unconditionally after the initial shock wore off. A group of blonde girls stroll by in matching purple dresses, trilling about some band they were going to see live. One of them, apparently, won free tickets off the radio and another splurged to get them a limo. Kudos for them. "His moms are pretty chill," Lyric agrees, setting his hip against the doorframe. "I'll see you tomorrow for rehearsal before class, Alto. If I receive any contact from the alien life force we know as Jimmy John, I'll let you know." "You are so weird," I laugh, listening to the sound of the door clicking shut behind me.

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The dorm is in an oddly tranquil state when I return home sometime around midnight. Even though Lyric instructed that I don't let paranoia overcome me, I couldn't help but wander the school grounds for a few hours. I even walked all the way to Jimmy's favorite restaurant about a mile away from the school. Sometimes he goes there in the middle of the night to get some cheap noodles. That actually has become his routine during finals. Patricia, the owner, loves him for all the business he brings her. I even went as far as to actually call his mother when all else failed. She told me that she saw him at around three and hadn't heard from him since. To avoid freaking her out, I assured her he was probably just practicing somewhere secluded, wanting privacy. There's no sign of Jimmy anywhere. No call, no text, no email... Absolutely nothing. Something happened, I know it. I can feel it in my stomach every single time I think about him; this overwhelming, aching dread repeatedly splashes over me like a bucket of blood. Wherever Jimmy is, he isn't safe. I'm almost up the first flight of stairs when I consider calling the police. This might be nothing, but I refuse to take a chance. If Jimmy really is in trouble and I did nothing to help him, I will never be able to forgive myself. "Hey, Alto!" I hear someone call. I look up and find the sweet smile of Edda waiting for me. She is worn down and borderline weak looking, but still manages to be the brightest star in the room. "You were out late." I wave her off. "Hi, Edda. I was out looking for Jimmy," I explain, playing it off as if this were nothing. There is no reason to worry anybody else. "What were you doing? Partying?" "Yikes, me?" she chuckles, slapping her hand to her chest. Edda has lived down the hall from Jimmy and I since she started here last year. The two of us have a minor friendship made up of mostly childish banter and musical references. Also, she is one of the only people who does not look ready to barf when I make a terribly wonderful pun. (For example, H-2-Oh No! When I used this on my neighbor, Madison, she looked ready to slam my head in her door. Would I have blamed her? Probably not.) It's nice having a friend who doesn't treat me like the freak I know I am. I appreciate her more than I appreciate Jimmy sometimes and that is saying mounds about our simple contact. Edda pauses on the stairs before me and gestures to the tag on her shirt. "My staff kind of bailed last minute at the paper, so I'm pretty much on my own. I just needed to run back here and pick up some photographs I forgot for the front page." Ever since the beginning of the year, Edda has been the head of our school's newspaper. She is the one who compiles it all together, writes editorials, finds leads for her team of three (counting the resident cartoonist, Kam) to follow, prints everything out, and sets up the newspaper stand in the main hall. "That sucks," I say. "It keeps me busy," Edda shrugs, adjusting a strap over her arm. "Well, I best get going. Nice seeing you, Alto." "You too," I nod, watching her descend the stairs and exit through the side door. Just as I reach into my pocket, I feel my phone start to buzz. Finally, Jimmy has messaged! I pull out my device and see his name printed across the screen. Thank god, Jimmy! I hit answer and let out a breathe of relief. "Jim-Jam, you scared me to death! Where have you..." "Heads up!" the phone cackles and I'm propelled forwards. The stairs thud beneath me with each roll until I'm at the bottom, my body trembling with pain. I lift my hands and cradle my head, attempting to recollect myself. My phone lies beside me in about three different parts. For that to have happened, the fall must have been pretty intense. "Why?" I choke out, lifting my head. The attacker is nowhere to be seen. "W-where'd you go?" I try to get up but my body refuses. Every one of my limbs feels ten times its size. I can't even move my left leg. Did I break it? Could I have broken it after only falling down half a flight of stairs? A horrible thought strikes me quite suddenly and I feel bile in my throat. What if I was right and Jimmy was hurt? Maybe the same person who did this to him is doing this to me. My shoulder stings. There's something pricking it. Before I can look, what I assume is a bag is thrown over my head. I'm engulfed in darkness for a few seconds. I don't fight it. I lay there and wait for it take me away.

#thirteen #thethirteen #thriller #story

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