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miko32 · 2 years

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Obey Me - The Lost Lamb and the Seven Avatar of Sin

Hi everyone!!!

Before we start, this story is self-indulge because I love Obey Me so much I just had to make my own OC stories and how she survive a year as an exchange student.

My OC named is Kristin, and she is a religious christian. I will not be discussing anything that is related to the bible. My OC is a self-indulgent of myself. In how I picture myself, as a christian, going through the program.

Warning! This is story has not been Beta Read. I’m only posting it for fun.

Now, the story will follow the game scenario but I also add a mix of storyline according to the Obey Me Manga in Manga Plaza.

As Kristin going through the program, she made a promise to herself she has to keep until the end of the year. Never, ever, ever, making pacts with demons.

This was all started by Kristin sister's kindness and stupidity.

Her big sister, Mary, sent Kristin many college applications to take. It was an excellent college with a cheap program they could afford, at least outside Singapore. Mary wanted Kristin to experience a life she never had time for.

A part of her effort was run by guilt for leaving their mom and her little sister with a jerk who called himself a father.

That day, Kristin’s received four rejected letters and one acceptance. The letter acceptance said:

"Congratulations!

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at the Royal Academy of Diavolo.

Please return this letter with your sign to confirm your participation.

We are looking forward to welcoming you as part of our new exchange program.

Yours sincerely,

Diavolo."

Kristin have no idea what goes into her head that day when she receive the letter. Without thinking further, Kristin signed her name and birthday on it.

"Welcome to the Devildom, Kristin!"

Eh?

Ehh?!

Ehhhh?!!!

"What, what?! Where am I?! Weren't I in my room a moment ago?!" The place is like a courtroom. Several men are looking in her way.

The redhead man stared at the girl, confused. Then he realized Kristin’s. "...oh, pardon me. Feeling a bit shocked, are we?" The redhead speaks. "Well, that's understandable. You've just arrived, after all." He smiled and hummed a low deep voice. "As a human, it will probably take a little while for you to adjust to things here in the Devildom."

"The devildom?" Kristin’s asked.

"Yes, exactly, the Devildom. I see that you catch on quickly. Excellent."

Is he mocking me?!

The redhead introduced himself as Diavolo, the ruler of demons. He then showed Kristin’s where we were, the Royal Academy of Diavolo.

That reminds me of the letter!

"Wait! I just signed a letter of acceptance to this academy! Is this that, RAD?"

Diavolo smiled and laughed. "Ahaha! You sure are quick! I think we have chosen a great future human student, right, Lucifer?"

Lucifer?!

"We'll see how she survives until the end of the semester," the deep voice came from a man with dark hair and red eyes, tall and handsome. There was something majestic and intimidating from his mere presence. It gives a shiver through Kristin’s.

"Kristin, this is Lucifer. He is a demon and the Avatar of Pride. He's also the vice president of the student council and my right-hand man..and not just in title, I assure you. Beyond that, he's also my trusted friend."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Diavolo."

Kristin blink, shaking her head. Thinking this is all a dream. Her heart tells me this is real. Kristin’s first instinct tells her what to do if it is.

"Um, sorry, excuse me," Kristin voice was tiny. The two demons (?) turned back at me. "You mean the Devildom, demons, and Lucifer, as in the demon from the bible." Kristin chuckled. "So this is Hell, right?"

The mention of the bible makes Lucifer frown. Diavolo smiled at her. "Ah, you read those books, Kristin?"

"Ye, yes," Kristin stomach felt like it was turning. Dreading for their answer.

Lucifer sighs. "Most written there are poetic, but, yes, I am that Lucifer." He smiled. There was something sinister and evil in it.

Right, following my instinct. "...aha! Kyaaa!!!" Kristin run toward the exit she can find and not looking back. The demons stayed, shocked by her reaction.

"Pfft, ahahaha!!!" Laughter aloud from a blond man sitting in the row of chairs. "My Diavolo, she just runs away like that?!" The blonde man known as Satan chuckled.

"She's already scared to death with you, Lucifer!" The blonde strawberries chuckled with his brother, the demon known as Asmodeus.

Lucifer glared at his brother. "Instead of sitting there, doing nothing, I order you two to catch her and bring her back here, NOW!"

Satan clicked his tongue. "Tch should've kept it in my mouth," he stood up from his chair despite his comment.

Asmo sighs. "Hah~what a drag, but it'll be fun catching a human, I guess."

xXxXxXxXxXxXxX

While running, Kristin said a prayer aloud.

"Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, kingdom come!" Kristin chants the Lord's Prayer in the hallway. She didn't notice demons walking by, falling on their knees whenever Kristin passed by with her chants.

"Please, Lord! Help me get back home!!!"

From a turning corridor, jump out the demon Satan and Asmodeus. Kristin stop as she felt a heavy presence from them. Kristin steps back.

"You, YOU?!"

"Now, little human, I suggest you come with us," Satan said; his voice was calm, but his eyes glared at her.

"Don't worry, we won't eat you!" Asmodeus chuckled evilly, his eyes gleaming at Kristin. For a moment, she felt a tingle she had never experienced.

"Asmo! Don't charm her!" Satan slaps Asmo's shoulder.

"Ow! I can't help myself! Besides! She's cute!"

Kristin realized the demon had already done something to her. Her heart was beating fast in fear. "Please, someone help me,"

POOF!

A puff of smoke pulled out from the human. Satan and Asmo coughed. When the smoke was clear, their eyes widened at what had become of the human.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Satan and Asmo returned to the council room. Diavolo and Lucifer were confused as there was no human following them.

"Where is the human?" Lucifer is seething at the two brothers.

Satan and Asmo look at each other, then at Lucifer. "Um, well, you see,"

"Is that cotton candy?! Did you go out to get that?!" Lucifer point to Satan’s hand, fumes with anger.

"Aww, you should've told me you two went to buy snacks," the demon with a ginger hair, Beelzebub, said. His stomach growling like thunder at the sight of the purple cotton candy.

"We didn't go out to get snacks!" Asmo gasps. "We're not Beel! Lucifer, I thought you knew your little brothers better!" the demon pout, crossing his arms.

"Then what is that?! And where is the exchange student?!" Lucifer yelled.

Beel had stood up from his throne to the three brothers. He drooled with his eyes toward the cotton candy. "Can I eat it?"

"No!" Satan shouted. "You can't eat this cotton ball because she is…!"

The cotton candy cried. Lucifer and Beel stiffen at the crying voice from the candy. They noticed the candy had horns. Satan turned the candy in his hand. The face of a sheep with tears in its eyes.

"Meet Kristin Pearce, the exchange student,"

What do you think? Please comments with kind words. I'm still a novice writer even though I've been writing forever :(

Chapter 2 will be up tomorrow!

#obey me #om #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me fanfic #obeymemc

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blackwaxidol · 2 years

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sloshed on diphenhydramine. sleeping pills always dull my emotions, and i lose the fear of speaking honestly. radio buzzing of an angry alter echoing in my skull, he alternates between despair and rage and both leave a sense of hopelessness at the core. i see no reason to divulge what he is agonised over, and this frustrates him further. i don't mean to be unkind to him, we merely operate on very different frequencies of self-preservation. perhaps i am making excuses, perhaps i just do not know how to parse his thoughts in an appropriate manner. i have always considered him to be a creature of shallow, vast demand. i recognise the inhumanity i exhibit when i think his desire for basal human attention is selfish or otherwise asking for too much. i understand that, fully. my restraining of him is unreasonable, but i am so fearful of abandonment that i cannot chance the possibility of this backfiring. the part that i am was formed from such an event, i believe i exist to prevent a second psychological collapse. do you see now, the scope of my personality?

there were a lot of stars out earlier. Jupiter was the brightest object in the sky and it still is, two hours later, and three hours before my final dose of antibiotics. i got a new prescription, it helped until it didn't. i will have to visit a specialist, i have had this infection for 6 months.

i saw Mars, too. for the very first time i witnessed the red luminescence it is known for. to its left i saw the Seven Sisters, the Pleiades. they are a cluster of stars within Taurus, of which i saw Aldebaran.

a low-flying plane scared me more than i want to admit. it was a strange machine to me, resonating with a droning hum that filled me with terror, because i had never heard an aircraft like it until now. so, so loud.

i am dreadfully unhappy. my notes app hasn't seen an updated entry in two weeks and i remember nothing of my days. i know i cried, a lot, but trying to recall when or why feels like i am falsifying memories because it feels so distant from my own mind. i am still losing weight. a doctor thinks i might have lupus. for a whole month my right breast looked sickly, so much so that the skin looked like it had been ravaged by carcinomata. on the day i meant to visit the doctor for my antibiotics i had intended to also bring this to attention, but when i undressed for a shower i discovered my symptoms were quickly diminishing. did you know lupus can cause mastitis so horrific that it appears to mimic cancer? until this was told to me, i was in a state of agony so unmanageable that i could not exist consciously.

i use my notes app to talk about my characters, i could not even do that. the last thing i said on here was not even my own correspondence because i fell upon myself like a dying star and only Aries talks when i do that. i don't like how he navigates speech, it is far too detached.

i did not want to disappear. i did not want to be alone. i can't stand being alone. my alter cannot decide if he is laughing or crying when he tells me for the umpteenth time that nobody cares if we die. i cannot entertain the notion, there is an obstruction in my thought process everytime i try considering it. i always take that kind of mental brick wall to mean that i am either not meant to, or not allowed to be the one to unpack it. i suppose i have to concur, but there's a strange feeling in my core when i do it. i want to say "i don't think that's correct" but i can't come up with a reason as to why. i have been typing this all for so long that i don't really sense him anymore and so the urge to redact any discussion of him in this post rises to the surface. but i want to keep it in. for clarity.

i want to say "whatever.", because that is what i say to indicate i have become deeply frustrated or upset in a manner that drives me to urgently discard my feelings when i feel the alternative might be combustion. i have long since forgotten the point of this post. he drove me to write it, because he feels neglected. that's fine. it has become my post now. goodnight, it is 06:36 and i am to take my antibiotics in under two hours.

#viktor.txt #long post

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gyahyahyahayhahayahyahyahyahyaha · 8 months

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this IS ridiculous and stupid and im only perpetuating it and stewing in it but like my whole, at this point, instinctual, response to being in the presence of this shithead is to go 'i have to kill that shithread/myself' is part of the reason why things are still the same and only getting worse. because i did kinda chose some of the worst time wasting things to focus on all this time and it was in fact just only distracting myself from these thoughts. nothing more. cuz i mean i couldnt really function and do anything else otherwise not without acting on these thoughts. ive been trying to not act on these thougths for so long but i dont have TIME to distract myself from them anymore so like... lol. i ve wasted too much time simply distracting myself and not like. doing anything else that might have... allowed me to extricate myself from this fucking situation. i am yet again, simply just tryiing to offload some of this fucking rage and anger building up. and like. as per usual the same regular thoughts keep pouring in. "what is the point at this point, on not just simply succumbing"

regarless of how things have been since however long ago. i stil have this ingrained fear+anger response. i get so mindbendingly incensed at their mere presence. i was literally cursing and sweaing my fuckign ass off audibly yesterday because i didnt feel safe with them at my back. and of course just simply being around them just pisses me offf and of fucking course instead of doing anything about it they complains to someone else about it. i cant talkt o themn either. what good is that going to do. nothing meaningful or good is going to come out of it.

theres no point. theres no fuckign point. obciosuly i have to focus on what CAN be done antd the more important shit but like. man. cmon. thats the whole issue. I CANT. i cant fuckign focus. and i keep wasting time. whether to distract msyelf or just.simply wasting time. all this time i know ive been focusing on the wrong things but like also its been so hard just keeping up with my fuckign hygiene and like keeping the house clean and it only gets harder becuase we dont have a fucking working DISHWASHER or WASHER or DRYER. and also cuz fo like depression bullshit. i dont want to get into "listing excuses" territory but like. ive BEEN using lots of stupid excuses all thistime. but also like i imagine because that bitch piece of shit is tryna make a more focused effort to cut n run theres no way in hell we're getting any replacements anytime soon. which just again just is making me so mad. this is something ive dreamed of. for so long. now that that stoupid bastard bitch piece of shit is leaving. ive more or less ruined/burned all mybridges so like idk. and i knew this hatred and fear would poison and burn me inside out. and probably catch fire to whatevers near me.

i dont want to say its impossible cuz like... its not. thats the whole thing. but it IS its hard to focuson other things, enough to get them done and dealt with... and even more so when mynumber one go to thought is in fact, "whats the fuckitn point" and so it fuckign cycles

and so it has been these last 20+ years.

i dont want to be like this. buti have been. and even now after all this suicidal ideation and ideas and whatever about "disappearing quietly and without a trace" im still fuckign posting about it... wonder what that fuckign means lol

again. YES its fucking stupid that things are like this. ITS FUCKING PATHETIC i let things get to this point. that i didnt do anything worthwile to mitigate or even TRY really. i did. i used to. but i realied it was kinda fruitless to do what i was TRYING to do and i kinda gave up on everything else. and i internalized that kinda thinking for so ong that i just didnt do anything since then. its pathetic. i could have broken out of this. i could have done SOMETHIN to leave. i should have just run away as a child. I SHOULD have done anything. i should have done SOMETHIGN. i can still DO SOMETHING. BUT AGASIN. i just look at my options. all the shit ihave to do and go,

"WHATS THE FUCKING POINT"

and the only things that i can actually see myself doing are reaching out towards probalby the most extreme and (maybe) unrealistic options out there.

and i say unrealistic cuz if i havent done those things at any point up til now, what chance is there of me doing something now. or when i no longer have a choice......

.............................i still have a fuckign choice

i still have time i guess......

but...a gain that fucking pulsing, overbearing thought leering and looming over my head saying the same shit over n over an over again.

"what is the point"

i can think of some answers to that...... sometimes.

maybe....

but even then its like.

i did this. i let things get to this point.

i made the decisions i did that cut off almost all form of exit. of escape or whatever route coud be taken to get out of this fucking mire.

and im languishing in it like some fucking idiot instead of doing something.

ive ruined my chances and i shouldnt and cant expect help. because what the fuck is anyone going to do that can actually fucking help me. whos to say tha i wont make things worse for whoever does help me. me i guess but i mean like.

the answer has been clear to me for so long now.

leave this place and die in some hole.

OR stay here and languish until you die here or they call the police and whatever happens then happens lol.

......and i like. i know. whenever whatever ends up happening. how i feel now and i how i envision it happenig will more than likely be COMPLETELY different ffom what does actually end up happening. but like. im scared either way . if things go the way i envision them going or if things go the way i dont. im scared of it either way cuz neither will be good.

like far as im concerned my only REAL, feasible options are rotting out on the street, killing myself, going to some prision/mental hospital or all of the above. (and maybe also somewhere inbetween now and then, bleeding out due to whatever going on with my body OR complications arising from losing consistent amounts of blood every day forthe last few years on n off). and well i think i deserve it.

i..... for as long as i can remember. never could see a feasible or realistic future or myslef. i had all these ideas and ambitions based in what might as well be delusion/fantasy because i never realy put all that much time or effort into working towards making those ambitions real or feasible. and now even still i cannot see ahead of me. i cannot fucking envision what continuing to be alive would be. aside from rotting until im actually dead. and then rotting some more. i dont want to die where someone will find me.

ive never been able to see a future for myself.

and like yeah. sure. you can fuckign craft one or whatever...

but..................................

WHAT IS THE FUCKING POINT.

even when i come up with answers to that question that i feel should be pretty strong contenders they always. kinda. just. fall flat.

in the face of everything. else... what am i willing to do for those reasongs. what am i willign to sacrifice. what am i willing to fuckign do. what effort am i willing to put in. i never felt like i was able to honestly or accurately answer those fucking quesitons.

and so again. i just feel like everythign i have is just. upheld by falsehoods. and maybe it actually is. but like. what have i done to say or prove otherwise.

what am i willing to do to make it real.......

i dont know.

ive been doing this same shit for so long.

unable to answer the important questions in any sort of meaningful way that feels solid or real.

yelling at myself to just DO IT, whatever IT may be.

coming up with stupi dlil workaround and convoluted rituals to get myself to do the things I WANT to do. WHATEER that might be. or thigns i NEED TO do. and barely bein able to take care of myself. i mean fuck i live in this house on someone elses money. im NOT taking care of myself. but like ive been so focused on tryna at least clean up after myself that i like just. dont do anything else. except waste time. on shit that doesnt matter cuz i not putting in the effort to make it matter. to make something of it. i.... idk...

like id like to be able to say ive been doing SOMETHIN to get outta this situation. like i have so much shit to catch up on like been essentially.... COLLECTING resources for all the things i need to prepare and do in order to catch up on what nees to be done. collecting resources for... STARTING. but i see these documents and pages and stuf that they require and i just freeze. up. i see they require like other ppl's signatures and like all my personal information like my dead name and alls orts of other shit and i just freeze up. i look at the other boxes to fill out and imaybe ill fill them out. but then i look back at the others. i stop. and then i dont save my progress and then i just. look away. go do something else. distract myself. it just. keeps happening. it keeps fucking happening. i shouldnt have had this many chances to squander. to WASTE. i shouldnt have had this many chances and this much time to WASTE. but i did. AND I WASTED IT ALL. AND I DONT SEE THE POINT IN BOTHERING. LIKE. MAYBE. IDK. MAYBE I DO MAYBE ITS BOTH I DO AND I DONT.

its just been all this same damn stupid ass shit. all the time. what do i have to show for anything.... like maybe i can get some fucking hep if i go see a doctor. for about half a much as i say "i should kill myself" or some more detailed variant of that, i also say "i should go see a doctor" i think about all the shit i needto do for that and i just start thinking. " but like do i even deserve it?" shoul di not just throw all my fucking caution and fear to the wind and just say fuck it!!! and let me live up to all this bullshit ive been sayin about how i DESERVE TO SUFFER??? but like i want to throw my cowardice away. i want to get rid of that. but i have to be careful from now on if i want to continue to have some semblance of a life i can enjoy or whatever. i guess. idk. what does that even mean. for me..................

every time i get to this poitn where i think about shit like this (which is just way too often mind you... theres not a SINGLE fucking day that goes by wihtout me thiking about killing myself or some shit like everytihgn i talked about here) i just think or have some stupid naive hope that i can like yell at myself or logic or trick myself into doing something. anything worthwhile. and then i just sit and stew on these feelings and.......

DO NOTHING.

this really is some stupid worthless whiny baby bitch bullshit but like.... i have to do something or else languish and die. liike i have been all this time.

#idklolwww/

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sorrows-of-young-werther-daily · 1 year

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March 15

I have just had a sad adventure, which will drive me away from here. I lose all patience!—Death!—It is not to be remedied; and you alone are to blame, for you urged and impelled me to fill a post for which I was by no means suited. I have now reason to be satisfied, and so have you! But, that you may not again attribute this fatality to my impetuous temper, I send you, my dear sir, a plain and simple narration of the affair, as a mere chronicler of facts would describe it.

The Count of O—likes and distinguishes me. It is well known, and I have mentioned this to you a hundred times. Yesterday I dined with him. It is the day on which the nobility are accustomed to assemble at his house in the evening. I never once thought of the assembly, nor that we subalterns did not belong to such society. Well, I dined with the count; and, after dinner, we adjourned to the large hall. We walked up and down together: and I conversed with him, and with Colonel B—, who joined us; and in this manner the hour for the assembly approached. God knows, I was thinking of nothing, when who should enter but the honourable Lady accompanied by her noble husband and their silly, scheming daughter, with her small waist and flat neck; and, with disdainful looks and a haughty air they passed me by. As I heartily detest the whole race, I determined upon going away; and only waited till the count had disengaged himself from their impertinent prattle, to take leave, when the agreeable Miss B—came in. As I never meet her without experiencing a heartfelt pleasure, I stayed and talked to her, leaning over the back of her chair, and did not perceive, till after some time, that she seemed a little confused, and ceased to answer me with her usual ease of manner. I was struck with it. "Heavens!" I said to myself, "can she, too, be like the rest?" I felt annoyed, and was about to withdraw; but I remained, notwithstanding, forming excuses for her conduct, fancying she did not mean it, and still hoping to receive some friendly recognition. The rest of the company now arrived. There was the Baron F—, in an entire suit that dated from the coronation of Francis I.; the Chancellor N—, with his deaf wife; the shabbily-dressed I—, whose old-fashioned coat bore evidence of modern repairs: this crowned the whole. I conversed with some of my acquaintances, but they answered me laconically. I was engaged in observing Miss B—, and did not notice that the women were whispering at the end of the room, that the murmur extended by degrees to the men, that Madame S—addressed the count with much warmth (this was all related to me subsequently by Miss B—); till at length the count came up to me, and took me to the window. "You know our ridiculous customs," he said. "I perceive the company is rather displeased at your being here. I would not on any account—" "I beg your excellency's pardon!" I exclaimed. "I ought to have thought of this before, but I know you will forgive this little inattention. I was going," I added, "some time ago, but my evil genius detained me." And I smiled and bowed, to take my leave. He shook me by the hand, in a manner which expressed everything. I hastened at once from the illustrious assembly, sprang into a carriage, and drove to M—. I contemplated the setting sun from the top of the hill, and read that beautiful passage in Homer, where Ulysses is entertained by the hospitable herdsmen. This was indeed delightful.

I returned home to supper in the evening. But few persons were assembled in the room. They had turned up a corner of the table-cloth, and were playing at dice. The good-natured A—came in. He laid down his hat when he saw me, approached me, and said in a low tone, "You have met with a disagreeable adventure." "I!" I exclaimed. "The count obliged you to withdraw from the assembly!" "Deuce take the assembly!" said I. "I was very glad to be gone." "I am delighted," he added, "that you take it so lightly. I am only sorry that it is already so much spoken of." The circumstance then began to pain me. I fancied that every one who sat down, and even looked at me, was thinking of this incident; and my heart became embittered.

And now I could plunge a dagger into my bosom, when I hear myself everywhere pitied, and observe the triumph of my enemies, who say that this is always the case with vain persons, whose heads are turned with conceit, who affect to despise forms and such petty, idle nonsense.

Say what you will of fortitude, but show me the man who can patiently endure the laughter of fools, when they have obtained an advantage over him. 'Tis only when their nonsense is without foundation that one can suffer it without complaint.

#the sorrows of young werther daily #march 15 #ides of march

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momolady · 2 years

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The Sky Pirates Part Three

So sorry for the long wait for the finale of this story! i never realized I hadn't posted it in two years! Anyways, enjoy!

Part One - Part Two

Female Main Character x Male Monster

The winds have been odd, buffeting about in a state of confusion. First one way, then the next, then curving around as if trying to see all sides. It feels very much like me, ever since I left Alecto and joined Cyrus aboard his ship the Apollo. I have felt lost and confused, but Cyrus remains my beacon, and when I begin to feel this way, I turn to him.

We have traveled to Reptilia, to the capital city of Kob Sinn. Cyrus was an orphan taken in by my mothers when he was young, but he remembers Kob Sinn. Now, Cyrus feels called to return to his homeland, and despite the confusion of the wind, it is as though it guided us here from the start.

Kob Sinn is as colorful as the Rakshasa Capital, but where the streets there are the color of golden sand, the streets here are a gray-green. Kob Sinn has mines in the ocean, where they excavate a stone that collects the heat from the sun and releases it when it is cold.

Cyrus seems content here, as if the call of the wild has left him. He’s always said his favorite place to be was on the boards of the Apollo, and yet, in Kob Sinn, there is a calm to him that I rarely get to see.

“What are you eating now?” he laughs behind me.

I have found myself in another noodle shack, and am eating thick barley noodles in an even thicker sauce. “It smelled so good here.”

Cyrus grins, showing off his golden teeth. “This is your third bowl today, and we still haven’t gotten all our supplies in order.”

I look up at him guiltily. “I never got to eat anything with my mothers. They always said the food on land was never so good, but it is so good!”

Cyrus chuckles, leaning over my shoulder and stealing a bite from my bowl. Then he grimaces a bit. “How are you eating things so spicy?”

“I like how it makes my nose run,” I laugh.

Cyrus kisses my cheek. “Hurry up and finish eating. We’ve still got to go to the lumber yard and cut a deal with the orchard. You’re my haggler. I need you.”

I give him a nod. “I’m almost done. Just wait for me at the candle shop.”

I quickly finish my food and a cup of tea, leaving the noodle stand satisfied. I’ve been eating a lot more lately. Then again, we are traveling a lot to make new connections and business partnerships, and I am able to try foods beyond what was allowed by my mothers.

As I walk towards the candle shop to meet with Cyrus, I see a man standing by himself, wearing an ornamental white-and-red coat. He has golden scales, but I swear his face looks exactly like Cyrus’.

I started to enter the candle shop when the golden-scaled lizardman grabs my shoulder. I grimace up at him and rip his hand away. “Excuse me,” I snarl at him.

He clicks his tongue. “Be careful, young lady. I wouldn’t go in there just yet if I were you.”

I continue to scowl at him. “I said ‘excuse me’ once, and I won’t say it again.”

He smirks devilishly, looking even more like Cyrus. “Were I not already married, I’d be head over heels for you. But I am merely warning you. I would hate for such a lovely thing to get hurt.”

I take a step towards him, reaching for the blade concealed in my belt. “What’s going on?”

He tilts his head. “Wait a second,” he whispers. “You’re a Fury.”

I’m ready to strike when someone comes flying through the window of the candle shop. Cyrus leaps out after them, bearing down on them and striking them in the jaw.

I grab my blade, but the golden lizardfolk catches my wrist. We struggle for a moment, and my dagger goes skidding across the stones. I try to hit him, but he catches my fist. I spread my wings, and the look that crosses his face is priceless. I flap them, taking off into the air, and the propulsion of it knocks him on his ass. I land on top of him, but someone knocks me aside.

“Bray, what the fuck are you doing?” a woman shouts.

“I told you to stay back on the ship!” Bray roars at her.

“Because you’re being stupid again?” The woman stands over him, glaring down at him. Her long black hair catches the sunlight, shining like onyx.

Cyrus drops the man he threw before Bray and this woman. “Someone better explain to me what the fuck is happening, or I will kill you.”

The woman steps forward. “Go ahead, kill him.” She sweeps her hand towards Bray as he rises. “No skin off my back.”

“Oh, and how are you going to explain that to the crew?” Bray demands. “Not to mention my son.”

“Oh, he’s your son now?” the woman scoffs. “This morning he was my son when his diaper was full.”

Bray jabs his finger at her. “I changed him five times yesterday!”

I whistle loudly, causing them to end their bickering and turn towards us. “What the fuck is going on?”

Bray smirks. “So the Fury is your protector, eh?” He stands tall, placing his hand on the woman’s shoulder. “Lucky you. No wonder you took to the sky.”

Cyrus frowns. “I don’t have time to be dealing with such nonsense. Who are you and why are you trying to attack me?”

Bray chuckles. “I’ve been looking for you for a long time. You took to the skies through, so I had no clue where you would end up. It was lucky we ended up in the same port together.”

The woman elbows him in the side. “Get to the point. This is Bray, former pirate lord, and I’m Ayako.” She points at Cyrus. “You two are brothers.” She then looks back at Bray. “See? Easy.”

Bray scoffs before he gives up and sighs. “Yes, my wonderful wife is correct.”

Cyrus shakes his head slowly. “No, that can’t be right. You must have me mistaken with someone else.”

“Considering you’re with a Fury, I highly doubt it,” Bray grumbles. He crosses his arms over his chest. “Seeing as Furies kidnapped you when you were little.”

I gasp softly. “My moms.” I turn to Cyrus. “But… you said you were an orphan.”

Cyrus looks conflicted and angry. “I… thought I was. Your mothers, they told me-” He looks back to Bray. “How do you know for a fact that I am your brother? What proof do you have?”

Bray motions towards Cyrus’s head. “The pattern of scales on your head - it’s the same as our mother’s, same as mine. Your tail is crooked at the tip because I stepped on it as a toddler.” He stands stiff. “I’m fairly certain it is you.”

“But why would I be kidnapped?” Cyrus scoffs. “There’s no reason the Furies would take me like that.”

“They hated our parents, our parents hated them. Simple logic, really. They took you to spite them.” Bray has a slight smirk on his lips. “Our parents were pirates on the seas and ran afoul of the Furies ages ago. They’d been battling over territory for ages, and finally the Furies snapped. They took you to prove a point.” He shrugs. “To be honest, I thought you were dead.”

Cyrus stands still, almost in shock. I place my hand in his and squeeze. “Say something,” I whisper.

“I can’t,” he whispers back.

I glare at Bray. “Then why the hell did you attack him? Why not just go up and talk to him?”

Bray raises his left hand. “We’re both left-handed. I just wanted to make sure.”

Ayako grunts and throws her head back. “I pray to the gods our son is smarter than you.”

“When we get home, my love, I’m going to plant another baby in you,” he says with a grin. “I liked you better pregnant. You were at least docile.”

“You can’t handle me docile,” she grins.

Bray shivers and leans closer to her. “I’m getting hard, my love. Stop this foreplay in front of family.”

I take Cyrus’s dagger from his boot. “I’m going to stab them.”

Cyrus stops me, then steps closer to Bray and stares him down. “Am I younger or older?” he asks.

Bray turns from Ayako and glares back at Cyrus. “You’re the baby, which is why it was so easy for the Furies to grab you. You had those fat little toddler legs.”

“Is my real name Cyrus?” he asks.

“Mother named you Chakrii after her father. I can see the Furies took that from you as well.” Bray’s eyes soften. “Does any of this ring a bell?”

“I’m trying to remember,” Cyrus shakes his head. “But it’s like water hitting a dam. Nothing is reaching me.”

Bray huffs, then takes something from an inside pocket of his jacket - a small stuffed doll with a warming stone in its belly. “This was yours.”

Cyrus takes the doll into his hand. It is the size of one of his fingers. The warming stone glistens, rubbed smooth by time. “Taddy,” Cyrus mutters. “I… how do I…”

“Furies have a way about them.” Bray glances over at me. “A way of twisting things.” He turns back to Cyrus. “I wouldn’t be surprised that they did that to you. Then again, being so young, it probably didn’t take much for you to forget.”

“This can’t be possible,” Cyrus breathes. He squeezes the doll in his hand. “I thought I was-”

My stomach gurgles, and I suddenly feel violently ill. “Uh-oh.” I turn quickly before the spicy noodles come back on me.

“Theai!” Cyrus rushes to my side, rubbing my back as I heave into the gutter.

Bray hums. “So, you and the Fury?” He tilts his head. “How did you manage that?”

I cough, and Cyrus wipes my mouth. “She’s my partner,” he growls. “My everything, so you don’t need to say a word on it.”

Ayako comes towards me, handing me a bowl of water. “Have you been feeling ill?” she asks.

I take the sieve from her hands. “I’ve been getting nauseous lately, but it’s just because we’ve been on land for so long. I’m using to being higher.” I take long gulps of water, feeling better as it cools me.

“Hmm,” Ayako stands back up. “We have a doctor specifically for our female crew members,” she says. “You should come visit them while the boys talk.”

“We have a doctor too,” I grunt as I stand back up.

“And I am sure they are wonderful,” Ayako replies. “But I insist you see ours.”

Cyrus takes me from her. “Why should we trust you?”

“We’re family,” Bray says with a smirk. “Besides, there is no reason for me to attack you. I don’t need to kidnap you for any reason, nor do I need anything you have. On my honor.”

Cyrus grimaces at him. “I don’t know you well enough to trust your honor, or your word,” he snarls at him.

“Then trust mine,” Ayako says. “Perhaps you’ll have the common sense for that.”

Cyrus sighs. “Fine, but only if Theai agrees.”

“It might be for the best,” I huff. “I’m starting to feel hot.”

Cyrus holds me tighter. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling sick?” he fusses.

“I didn’t want you to worry. And like I said, I thought it was land sickness. I didn’t know.” I pout up at him. “Maybe I’m just off-balance or something.”

Cyrus huffs. “You have been eating a lot of spicy foods lately. Maybe you’ve just upset something.” He huffs, then nods. “Fine. I’ll talk with Bray, and you see their doctor.”

We follow Ayako and Bray to their ship. Once on board, Ayako takes me belowdecks, where we meet with their special doctor.

While we wait for the doctor, I sit alone with Ayako in the small quarters. She’s very lovely. I can see how a face like hers would charm Bray.

“So, uhm-” I start unsurely. “How did you and Bray meet?”

Ayako smirks and lets out a laugh. “We’re were marooned together. His pirate ship attacked my father’s personal ship during a storm. Bray and I washed up on an island together.”

“Oh,” I gasp. “So, uhm… is he nice?”

Ayako starts to cackle. She hugs her ribs and looks at me with a grin. “Yeah,” she clears her throat. “Sometimes.”

I fidget uncomfortably. “Do you like him?”

“I love him,” Ayako sighs dreamily. “I know how we come off, bickering all the time.” She turns and smirks at me. “But I like that about him.”

“Huh,” I glance aside. “A little weird.”

“A lot, actually,” she chuckles.

The doctor comes in, and she asks me quite a few questions before performing some tests. She takes a blood sample, then has me and Ayako leave.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

Ayako nods. “No worries, this is her process for things. When I was pregnant she did the exact same things to make sure.”

I feel the wind knocked from my lungs. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” she murmurs. “It’s kind of obvious you’re pregnant, right?”

I open my mouth to talk when there is a loud crash on deck. Ayako and I scurry out to see Bray and Cyrus half-naked, clearly in the middle of a fight. Bray is picking himself up from the crate he collapsed onto, and Cyrus is readying himself for another strike.

Sitting in the corner is a baby playing on a blanket.

“Oh, no you haven’t!” Ayako screams. She shoves Bray back to the deck and picks up the baby. “You monstrous idiot!”

“He was fine!” Bray scoffs. “I made sure of that, and I was watching him the whole time. I swear, Ayako.”

“Oh, please,” Ayako growls. “You just wanted to show off! You weren’t watching him at all. How the hell could you with your head in your ass?”

Bray rolls his head and starts to turn back towards Cyrus. “Well, you’re here now, so let me finish this. I’m winning.”

“Oh, sure!” Cyrus laughs loudly. “I just had you on your ass.”

“Had the womenfolk not shown up I would have had you on yours!” Bray roars at him.

“Both of you need your asses worn out,” Ayako grumbles. Then she turns to me. “You care to see this at all?”

I look at her, then silently move towards Cyrus. “Is this really the way you intend to talk?” I ask him. “Have you two even discussed anything?”

“I need to work this out,” Cyrus huffs. “Let me deal with this, knock him around, and then we can talk.” He then gets a look in his eyes. “Are you okay? What did the doctor say was wrong?”

I think back to what Ayako said and screw my mouth into a tight line. “Not sure,” I grumble. “She had to do a test to make sure of something, so I don’t have an answer yet.”

“It’ll be okay.” Cyrus kisses my forehead. “Just some land sickness, like you said.” He smiles at me. “Go sit down somewhere cool. I’ll be done here really fast.”

I huff. “You sure?”

Cyrus winks at me. “I’ll win it for you.”

“Didn’t ask, but okay.” I follow Ayako, who takes me to the quarters she shares with Bray. She sets Hinata down on the floor, taking out toys to play with him.

Hinata has the same sunny gold scales as his father. His tail is a small stub, and his belly is still fleshy and velvety. He crawls around, stumbling when he tries to walk.

“You okay?” Ayako asks.

“A little shocked,” I sigh. “Today has been… a lot.”

Ayako smiles. “I bet.” She pats the floor beside her. As I sit down Hinata crawls up into my lap. “I’m sorry,” she then sighs. “I know all of this is so sudden, and Bray doesn’t know how to make a great entrance.”

Hinata is making small sounds as he plays with the buttons on my coat. His big eyes look up at me and he breaks into a toothless grin.

I smile back at him and rub the top of his head. “I’ve known Cyrus almost all my life. The story has always been he joined the crew when he was little, along with the other orphans.” I pick up Hinata, who giggles happily. “He was okay not knowing. As long as he had the crew around him, it was family enough.”

Hinata reaches out, pulling my hair and then grabbing at my face.

“Be nice.” Ayako takes him and sets him back on the blanket.

“Is Bray it?” I look at her, searching her face for an answer. “Or does he have even more family out there?”

Ayako nods. “His parents are still alive.” She waves her hand to the window. “After Demir started rising to power, they decided to hide on their island. They didn’t want to deal with Demir’s machinations.”

“Did they give up looking for Cyrus?” I whisper.

Ayako shakes her head. “Much like Bray, they tried to keep track of where the Furies were, but since they kept to the sky, there was no way of knowing. But they never stopped hoping that Chakrii - I mean, Cyrus - was still alive.”

I glance down at Hinata, who is chewing on a doll similar to the one Bray gave to Cyrus. It’s soft and floppy, with one of the Lizardfolk warming stones in the center. Hinata is chewing on the warming stone. Perhaps he’s teething. He drools all over it and makes gurgling sounds.

“Someone is hungry.” Ayako picks up Hinata and cradles him. She pulls down her blouse and her breast falls right into Hinata’s mouth. His tiny hands start kneading at her, burbling dreamily as he nurses.

I watch him for a moment, then look at Ayako’s tranquil expression. “Does that hurt?” I feel dumb asking, but I honestly have no clue.

“Sometimes,” Ayako answers.” She huffs. “Always. I get chapped and achy. If I don’t feed him it hurts more.” She smiles down at Hinata. “He’s a chip off his father’s block, that’s for sure, but I wouldn’t change a damn thing. I know he’ll grow up one day and all this will be behind me. But for now, I can handle it.”

Hinata is starting to doze off. Sometimes his eyes close, and then he’ll pop back awake to hungrily guzzle before he drifts off to sleep again. Once he’s out for good, Ayako takes him to his crib and tucks him in. She adjusts her top, placing her breast back inside.

“They say motherhood comes naturally,” she scoffs. “But I had a massive learning curve. It took me what felt like forever to get that motherly feeling. The first few weeks, I thought for sure I had been handed someone else’s baby.” She sits back down beside me. “I literally felt nothing.”

I look into her dark eyes. “What changed?”

“Surprisingly, it was my dumbass husband.” She rolls her eyes. “I woke up one night to see him tending to Hinata. He was singing, giggling, rocking him as he paced the room. Something about seeing him throw my baby up into the air and then catching him awoke that love in me.”

I can’t help but gawk. “He threw the newborn?”

“He still thinks it’s funny,” Ayako scoffs.

I whistle and lean back onto the wall. “Yikes.”

“And Hinata eats it up! He loves being in the air.” She bangs the back of her head against the wall and chuckles. “I shouldn’t complain. If you are pregnant, your kid will probably have wings.”

The idea hadn’t occurred to me. “Oh no,” I groan. “I was flying before I was walking. My mothers had to keep netting over my bed!”

Ayako sputters as she tries to keep herself from cackling. “I really shouldn’t complain.” She starts laughing out loud, but quickly quiets herself down. “So sorry,” she giggles.

I close my eyes. “I’m still sticking with the idea that I’m land-sick.”

There’s a knock on the door, and Ayako swings it open and warns the person on the other side to be quiet. “You done now?” she hisses at Bray.

“Is Hinata asleep?” Bray looks over her shoulder towards the crib. “Aww, does that mean I missed feeding time?”

Ayako rolls her eyes. “So, did you get it all out of your system? Did you roughhouse enough, or did you just come to look at my tit?”

“I always want that,” Bray says with a smirk. “But I also came to fetch you and Theai. So yes, for now the rough housing is over.” He glances back towards me. “So if you want to come and join us, you can.”

“I’ll stay with Hinata,” Ayako says. “You can go ahead. I’ll join later.” She steps aside as I join Bray in the hall.

“Is Cyrus okay?” I look him over, noticing he’s a bit worse for wear.

Bray cracks his shoulder. “He put the hurt on me alright, but I think I gave it back to him just as good.”

“Doesn’t answer my question, but sure.” I follow Bray, who leads me back towards the deck.

Outside I see Cyrus sitting down, drinking from a heavy metal goblet. He grins as I approach, and I see one of his eyes is swollen shut.

“Oh come on,” I huff. “Did you two really need to go to these lengths?” I check his eye, making sure there is no bleeding or any sort of dangerous injury.

“Easy there, love, easy,” Cyrus grabs my wrist. “I had fun! Quit worrying.”

“Fun?” I glower. “This was fun to you?”

“I roughhouse all the time, quit acting.” He kisses me, then sits me down in his lap. “Bray and I have been talking, but I wanted you here. You’re family too, so I want you to hear everything.” He runs his big hand up and down my back.

Bray chuckles, plopping down on a seat and stretching his arm out. “I was just telling your boy there about how I met Ayako.”

I shrug. “You were robbing her dad’s ship, got caught in a storm, and fucked on an island. Yeah, she told me everything.”

“I was telling the romantic version!” Bray growls. “How I protected her and saved her life. How despite our differences, we came together, and fucked like the world was going to end!” He laughs, then sighs. “She’s my angel.”

“We grew up together,” Cyrus replies. “Her mothers were the captains of two airships, and they gave me one of their small ships when I was old enough to run it. I had always been in love with Theai. She was so beautiful, so smart, that I wanted to become someone worthy of serving her one day.” He looks me in the eye and smiles. “Then one day, I thought I lost her. Her mothers put her in an arranged marriage, so I stole her away for myself.”

I smirk back at him and tuck my chin down shyly.

“Just like our dad,” Bray chuckles. “He stole our mom too, you know?” He sighs dreamily and leans back. “Our mother was royal, ya know?”

Cyrus and I both give him a disbelieving look. “You’re full of shit,” Cyrus laughs.

“Hardly,” Bray smirks. “You see, our mother was the first wife of King Niran. She was a Kobold princess who was given in an arranged marriage.” He points at his head. “Which explains the pattern on our heads,” he laughs.

“Well,” Bray continues. “Our father was Niran;s littlest brother, who had also been living a double life. He was supposed to be traveling and going to all these schools and shit, but instead he used his wealth to buy a ship and build a new life for himself. But he was home for the wedding between Niran and Ma, you see. For the two of them, it was love at first sight.” He claps his hand over his chest.

“They met in secret constantly. Stealing kisses, hiding away where they could just be with one another. Then, one day, Niran caught them red-handed.” He clutches his fist into a tight ball. “He was angry! His own brother betraying him in such a way! They fought horribly, but Ma stepped in and declared her love to Dad. So Niran gave them an option - disappear from his sight forever, or die as lovers.”

Cryus is clutching my hand tight as he listens to this story.

“So they ran away to become pirates that very night, and I was born not too long after,” Bray laughs triumphantly. “Oh, and you too, I guess.”

Cyrus sighs. “So we aren’t royal. We’re just disowned.”

“It doesn’t really matter, in my opinion,” Bray huffs with a shrug. “What matters is that we can be a family again.”

“They’re still alive?” Cyrus whispers.

Bray throws his hands up. “Of course they are. Why wouldn’t they be?” he laughs. “They’ve retired because of that annoying centaur.”

“Can we see them?” Cyrus gasps.

Bray nods. “Well, duh. I was hoping. They have no clue I’ve found you, so it would be a surprise.”

Cyrus turns to me and grasps my hand tight. “This is okay, right? I know we had plans, but we can do this, can’t we?”

I smile at him, touching his face and nodding. There are tears in his good eye, and the expression on his face melts my heart utterly and completely. “Of course we can. How could I say no?”

Cyrus clutches me tight in both arms. “Thank you! This means too much to me.”

“Oh, hey, Doc,” Bray says as the doctor comes towards us. “What have you got for me?”

“From the looks of it, I should have brought an ice pack,” she scoffs. “But I simply have news for Theai here.”

Every hair on my body stands on end, and even my wings bristle. “Sure. What is it?”

Cyrus eyes me, sensing my hesitation.

“The tests I performed came back negative,” she says softly.

My stomach drops with disappointment. “Oh. That’s good, suppose,” I fidget in Cyrus’s lap. “Thank you.”

“You may just have an extreme case of land sickness like you said, coupled with all the extra food you’ve been eating. I would simply stick to some fresher foods and lay off anything spicy for a bit.”

“What was the test?” Cyrus asks.

“Pregnancy,” I grumble. “Ayako thought I might be pregnant.”

“Why the hell isn’t she?” Cyrus snaps at the doctor.

“The doctor arches her brows at him. “You might want to ask your dick that, because it certainly isn’t any of my business.”

Cyrus snorts, trying to hold back his laughter as the doctor walks away.

We make plans to follow Bray to his parent’s island. From there, we finished getting supplies and packed up the airship. We’re far too busy to discuss anything, but one evening after take-off, I find Cyrus sitting in our chambers, looking at the doll that was his as a baby.

“What are you thinking?” I sit down beside him and kiss his bare shoulder.

“When the doc told you that you weren’t pregnant, what did you feel?” Cyrus asks. “Were you relieved? Happy?”

I press more kisses down his arm. “I was disappointed.”

“You were?” Cyrus turns to face me and cups my cheeks in his palms. “No lying now, okay? We’ve always said we would let things happen on the wind, but I have so wanted a baby.”

I kiss his thumb as it strokes across my lips. “You met Hinata, right?” I murmur. “You saw how cute he was, how sweet.”

Cyrus presses his thumb into my mouth, then pushes it against my tongue. “Yeah. But I’m much better-looking than Bray, you know? And while Ayako is lovely, you’re so much cuter. I bet our baby would be twice as adorable and sweet as Hinata.”

I suck on his thumb, then look up at him and sigh as he removes his finger. “I think you’re right.”

Cyrus grins, pushing me down onto our bed. “So, I have your permission then?” I can feel his bulge through his pants as he grinds against my leg.

“Permission for what?” I giggle.

Cyrus snarls as he kicks away his pants. His cock springs out and lays against my thigh. His sharp teeth drag across the skin of my neck until he breathes into my ear. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re pregnant.”

I giggle shakily. “You think you got it in you?”

Cyrus opens my legs and runs his hands up them. “What a stupid question.” He looks down at my slit and rubs his fingers against it. “Look at you, already getting wet.”

I bite my bottom lip, squirming as his fingers push between my labia. He breathes, stroking himself with one hand while fingering me with the other.

“That’s my girl,” he breathes. A low rumble comes from his throat. “Yes. Like that. I love how you squeeze so desperately around my fingers.” He pulls them out, then lays them on his tongue, licking them clean.

I open up my shirt for him, exposing all of my skin. Cyrus smirks and leans down, his tongue darting over my breasts. As he moans it travels across my skin, making me let out a soft cry. I drag my hand down his back, feeling his scales and ridges until I touch the base of his tail.

Cyrus chuckles, lifting his head from my breast. “I’ll have to share these soon.” He smirks up at me. “But I don’t mind at all.” He kisses me, and his hands push against the back of my thighs.

His cock slides against me, growing slick from my own nectar. He grinds against me, poking, pressing, sliding. I snarl in frustration, simply wanting him inside me.

“Oh my,” Cyrus chuckles. He presses his thumb back on my tongue. “So scary. You aren’t getting impatient, are you?”

I bite his thumb as a warning.

Cyrus sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Easy now.” His tip has pushed into my mound. “I wasn’t going to keep you waiting much longer.” A buck of his hips, and he’s inside me.

I whine against his thumb, arching my back in hopes of making him go deeper.

Cyrus watches me, his dark eyes fixed on my expression as he pulls out and eases back in. I bite his thumb again and give him the most pitiful look at I can.

“Don’t worry,” he breathes. “I’m just enjoying looking at you.” He thrusts his hips, going deeper inside me. “You’re squeezing me so tight, you must really want me to come for you.” He starts driving into me, breathing deep with each plunge.

I suck his thumb, moaning against it and crying out when he hits that sweet spot. My toes curl and clench, and my thighs begin to tremble.

“You’re begging me, aren’t you?” Cyrus pants. “I can feel it.” He drives deeper, grinding himself all the way inside. “You’ll get every drop of me. I promise.”

I kiss him as his tongue moves away from my mouth. He uses both hands to anchor himself, making sure his cock doesn’t leave me. He remains deep, thrusting there until I feel the air start to crackle. I lose my breath for a moment as I sink deeper into the bed. My wings stretch along the blankets, and my legs trap Cyrus where he is.

Cyrus snarls and bucks, and his jaw goes slack. He lets out a deep, guttural sound that’s primal and weak at the same time. Inside, his cock is throbbing, releasing, spilling his seed. For a moment he is still, breathing hard until he pulls back. He places a pillow against my lower back and he cups his hand around my mound.

“Not a single drp is to be wasted,” he growls.

“Okay,” I moan, exhausted and still shivering from my afterglow.

I’m not sure how many times we make love while traveling to Cyrus’ parents’ island, but I’m sure it’s more than enough to have a baby. We just have to be patient, for we do have a new family that is coming into our lives. We shouldn’t feel this greedy. We just want something that is our own - although we are excited to meet Cyrus’ parents.

The baby will happen sooner rather than later, though. We won’t have to wait long at all.

#monsterxhuman #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster x human #lizardfolk #lizardfolk boyfriend #monster lemon #monster fucker #my writing #momolady monsters #monster fudger

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cregla · 3 years

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Okay. I can’t believe it’s been months since that part of season 2 and I have to make this post. Tommy wasn’t really exiled. Tommy was, basically, kidnapped. “Hold your phone, Nate!” You will say. “What are you talking about? Are you mad??” I am not. Believe me, I am not. I know that technically he was exiled. I’m not talking about that. Stick with me for a bit. So. Technically, exile in its most simple form is banishment from your country. You aren’t allowed to come back at all but you are, otherwise, free to live anywhere else that will accept you. When Wilbur and Tommy were exiled from L’M... pardon, Manberg, they could have technically gone anywhere in the SMP, could have built an home and just lived there and no one could have said anything about that. Of course it didn’t happen for obvious reasons but even so, Shlatt had literally no saying in what they could do outside Manberg, because the exile was only from that place. When Tommy was exiled at the beginning of the SMP (but they weren’t roleplaying at the time, so take what I'm telling you with a grain of salt), he was technically left there in the wildness with just the instruction to not come back to the SMP. Now, of course, there are cases where the exiled person is forced to stay in one place only. Napoleon is one of the most famous examples- but bear in mind: it usually happens when, if left free, those people could come back and try to overthrow whoever exiled them. It’s actually a form of imprisonment, mixed with exile. Which is exactly what Dream claimed he was doing: that he was trying to stop Tommy for trying to do what Wilbur had done with Pogtopia (and in part he had been right in fearing so, since he and Techno had started to go on that route after). However, mind this: Dream had never said anything about that until after Tommy was taken away from New L’Manberg. The terms of the Exile were just... exile. Exile from both New L’Manberg and the Dream SMP lands. Never (and If I’m wrong, I will correct myself, I promise) it was said, both in the first discussion between the cabinet and Dream and later when Tubbo made his decision, that Tommy would have to be stuck in a place, as if he was a prisoner. Never it was said that Dream would check on him and basically force to give him away all his stuff everyday in case he tried “something”. Never it was said that privileges as visits from his friends or access to the Nether could be taken away if Tommy “misbehaved”. Heck, people in New L’Manberg tought that Tommy was fine especially because they didn’t know about all of this! Now, of course everything Dream did was literal abuse, but I’ve seen some post claim that it was Dream just “crossing the lines” but that some things, like the fact that Tommy couldn’t run away from Logstedshire (which he could not do. Tommy was legit scared of being killed from running away from there for a reason. It was before he decided to ally himself with Techno, it was the mere tought of leaving his prison), were actually “rightful rules of the exile”. No. No they weren’t, because they were never discussed before. Because they weren’t what Tubbo had agreed with. Because Tommy was not a prisoner, but Dream’s plan was, of course, still treating him like that. Dream did not abuse someone he was rightly supervising. He wasn’t, as I’ve seen someone saying, doing the same thing Sam’s doing right now, abusing his power as a “guard” for his own motives. Dream tricked L’Manburg in believing Tommy was going to be exiled while he, instead, made himself his captor. Dream found an excuse to be able to take Tommy away freely and to lock him up in something that didn't look like a prison but actually keeping him a prisoner, dictating rules that he had no right to dictate in any way, preventing him from leaving, from contacting people directly, manipulating not only Tommy but everyone around him to try to isolate him as much as possible, deciding what he could have and what he could do. His next plan was actually to put Tommy’s in Pandora’s Vault and even there, he would have no right to do so! Because it wouldn’t have been part of Exile. Because Dream wasn’t part of L’Manberg cabinet, its president, and whatever change in the Exile terms (that were basically non-existent, as all the rules were established by Dream after Tommy was already exiled, like the fact that everyday he had to give Dream his armor) should have been first talked about with Tubbo. But of course, then Tubbo and the others would have never accepted, right? Because those weren’t right rules. That was abuse. Yes, Tommy was exiled. But immediatly after Tubbo’s decision, Dream took him away and basically trapped him both physically and psychologically. If Tommy had tried to escape, he would have suffered consequences if captured again. If anyone had tried to help Tommy in any way, which actually happened, Dream would have intervened. If Tubbo had decided, as was in his rights, to withdraw Tommy's exile, technically Dream would have had to let Tommy return to L'Manberg and then declare war or build walls or whatever. But 100% he wouldn't have done that. He wouldn't even let him return even if the Exile was officially over. Yes, Tommy was exiled. And then, after mere minutes, he was kidnapped by Dream. (”But Nate, why is this important? Dream still abused Tommy. What does it change?” Virtually nothing, yes. Tommy was still traumatized no matter what happened. What it changes, however, is the perception of what Dream did. Because there is a difference, if Dream didn’t even have the power of deciding to take Tommy’s armor away. Because there are people who claims that those rules could have still been applied, if Dream had just been “kinder”. That if Dream had just taken away his weapons without the TNTs, if he had said clearly that he couldn’t have a party because he was exiled instead of manipulating Ghostbur and Tommy about it, then he would have been right. That Dream could have actually stopped people from visiting. No. No, because he didn’t even have that right. Because Tommy wasn’t a prisoner. And Dream had no right, not even a single one. Sam has rights to stop Dream from receiving visitors, no matter if it’s a good or bad decision, because he’s Dream’s guard and Dream’s a prisoner. Dream, in that moment, was nothing to Tommy but his kidnapper.)

#tommyinnit #dream smp #mcyt #dreamwastaken #c!dream #c!tommy #tommy exile #tubbo #as someone who was actually kidnapped but people don't want to call it like that because it wasn't a normal kidnapping #this actually hits a way too close to home

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lorenfangor · 3 years

Text

since everyone seemed so interested, I figured I could share another preview! we’re going to start posting sooner than later, but have some more to fill the waiting with, maybe?

“So,” Rachel asked, angling the marker between her fingers, “what’s our first mission?”

“Becoming morph-capable,” another voice said from the door. “Obviously.”

“Tobias!” Rachel said, almost jumping up from the bench. He was pushing the barn door open, slipping inside with a pair of bags slung over his shoulders. He was pretty difficult to read, but he didn’t look like a guy who’d just said goodbye to his dying dad.

“How was it?” Jake asked.

“Yeah,” Marco said, “did you tell Prince Elfangor we’ll send the Visser to Satan’s frying pan for what he was gonna do?”

“Not exactly,” Tobias answered, coming over to the table and looking over his shoulder at the open door. “See, it wasn’t my dad in the fighter.”

“Who was it, then?” Jake asked. “Mertil? Gafinilan?”

<Me,> said yet another voice, and an Andalite stepped through the door into the barn. He was young, not yet fully grown, and far smaller than I remembered him being, but that didn’t stop me from jumping to my feet at the same time as Marco and Jake.

“Oh, my god, Ax!” Rachel cried, running across the floor and practically tackling him into a hug. He awkwardly returned it, looking out at us with an inscrutable expression that seemed to beg for help.

“You’re not getting away from this, Ax-man,” Marco said, coming up to his other side and throwing an arm over his shoulders. “Not after we all got our asses killed trying to save you.”

“Like hell we were gonna leave you in Kelbrid space,” Jake said. “What happened?”

Ax shuddered, an unnatural, jarring motion for an Andalite. All four of his eyes closed, which was even more unnatural.

<Do not ask me that, Prince Jake,> he said. <Please.> His voice was quiet, and subdued, and frightened, in a way it had never been in my memory.

Jake paused, waiting, watching, and finally he nodded.

“Sure. I won’t ask. So long as you tell me why you were in that fighter.”

“He came to die,” Tobias said, digging around in one of the oversized saddlebags that he’d brought. “He switched places with somebody, and came to sacrifice himself.”

<And then I saw Tobias,> Ax said, speaking directly to Jake, tail lowering, <and I could not lie to him. I told him who I was.>

“Why aren’t you dead?” Jake asked.

“And Visser Three’s not gonna be looking for you?” Marco said. “He might be stupid but he’s not dumb.”

<We left my tail before I morphed to heal,> Ax answered. <He will assume the pilot is dead.>

“Good,” Jake said. “Now we’re really in the clear. He’s not even gonna be looking for other crash survivors.”

“Ax - !”

<Ah, that’s right. I shouldn’t call you Prince Jake.>

“Thanks,” Jake said, “now - !”

Jake wheeled around, staring incredulously at Ax. “Excuse me?”

“I was what?!”

<You are of the same rank as Alloran-Semitur-Corrass and my brother. Officially. It cannot be disregarded by a mere aristh such as myself.> Ax sounded way more smug than usual, and his eyes were crinkling at the corners.

“Oh, goddamnit,” Jake groaned. “I’m never getting away from this, am I?”

<No, Prince Jake,> Ax said, standing in a way that showed he was extremely pleased with himself.

#animorphs #animorphs fanfiction #animorphs au

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gins-potter · 3 years

Text

365 Days of Romitri

Day 15: Fire

holy crap, two updates in three days? who is this productive bitch? couldn't be me. truthfully this update would have been out last night but uh i was drinking and did not trust myself to finish editing and post it.

Every single muscle in Dimitri’s body locks up tight when the alarm starts to blare, loud and insistent, through St Vad’s. It takes him a long moment, but he realises that it isn’t a breachment alarm but a garden variety fire alarm. Not that that’s any less worry-inducing, but he is at least able to breathe again.

Yuri, with whom Dimitri is in the middle of sharing a coffee, turns to him, eyebrow raised in something between genuine concern and exasperation. They know it’s not a drill - they would have been alerted beforehand if it was - and it’s likely due to a minor incident in one of the Moroi’s magic classes. Regardless, they both set their coffee aside and are on their feet in an instant, heading towards the door.

“I swear if it ends up being one of those punk fire-users pulling a prank…” Yuri mutters under his breath before trailing off.

Dimitri forces himself to huff a breath of laughter. He knows logically that it probably is, just a joke or a classroom exercise that got a little out of hand, and yet he still can’t find it in himself to unclench.

They emerge from the building and Alberta falls into step beside them, her quick pace meaning that she easily keeps up with Dimitri and Yuri both despite being nearly a foot shorter than them.

“Know what it is yet?” Dimitri asks, glancing sidelong at her.

“One of the magic classrooms?” Yuri interjects, but Alberta shakes her head grimly.

“Home ec.”

Dimitri’s blood instantly runs cold and he stumbles, mind running over Rose and Christian’s schedule because of course even with her limited duty she’s on today, and of course Christian has home ec class right now. He lengthens his stride, forcing Alberta and Yuri to practically jog to keep up and even that doesn’t feel fast enough, not when every instinct he possesses is screaming at him to run.

When they finally make it up the stairs to the classroom they find the fire out and the room in a state of organised chaos, having been beaten there by half a dozen guardians as well as Dr. Olendzki. One guardian is standing at the front of the room with the teacher who is shaking her head, hand over her mouth, as though she can’t quite comprehend what has just happened. The other guardians are checking the damage which seems contained to a large scorch mark on a wall near one of the stations. Most of the students are gathered in the back corner amusing themselves, but two are sitting apart with one being tended to by Dr. Olendzki.

When Dimitri sees who it is, he crosses the room in a handful of long strides, Alberta and Yuri on his heels.

“Roza,” he says, the loving moniker coming out without even thinking as he touches her shoulder. “What happened?”

Rose glances up at him, seemingly unperturbed by both his worried expression and the fact that her arm is currently being examined by the doctor. She rolls her eyes half-heartedly, flicking a stray strand of hair out of her face. “Nothing, just the idiot behind us stopped paying attention to what he was doing and his damn station nearly exploded.”

“Rose reacted so fast,” Christian puts in, uncharacteristically impressed. “The flames were coming right at us and she shoved me out of the way.”

Rose grins up at them, hiding a wince as Dr. Olendzki prods at her arm. “If only one of you guys had been around, you would have given me full marks for my response time.”

“Is she alright?” Dimitri asks Dr. Olendzki, ignoring Rose’s wisecracking.

“I’m fine-”

“Is she alright?” he asks again, a little more forcefully.

“Just a first degree burn, and a rather mild one at that,” the doctor says, looking faintly amused.

She indicates a slightly red area on Rose’s forearm, and, unable to help himself, Dimitri takes Rose’s arm in his own hands, forcing himself to be gentle despite his haste, and looks for himself.

“I’ll prescribe some burn cream to put on it, but that’s more for her own comfort than anything else.” Dr. Olendzki turns back to Rose. “I’ll send some to your dorm later, okay? But come see me if the pain continues after three days.”

Dr. Olendzki touches Rose’s shoulder reassuringly and snaps her bag closed, nodding to Alberta before making her leave.

“You’re done for today,” Dimitri says instantly to Rose, who, predictably, opens her mouth to argue.

“No, come on, I’m fine.”

“I said you’re done.”

“I’m on limited duty already, I need to be on today”

Alberta raises an eyebrow, glancing between them with a hint of surprise at their vehemence. Yuri coughs uncomfortably and excuses himself, while Christian, looking perplexed, also glances between them.

“You heard Guardian Belikov,” Alberta says finally, putting an end to the argument. “He’s responsible for you and he said you’re done, so you’re done. Go back to your room, Rose,” she continues, voice softening a fraction. “Take the rest of the afternoon off and put some cream on that burn.”

Rose still looks ready to argue but Alberta simply walks away, protests falling on deaf ears.

Christian clucks his tongue in vague sympathy. “Sucks, Rosie.”

Rose directs a vulgar gesture towards him and Dimitri doesn’t even have it in him to sigh at their bickering or reprimand her. “Come on,” he says, touching the back of her shoulder to usher her out of the classroom.

“I really am fine, Comrade. You didn’t need to do that,” she sas as they walk down the hallway, frowning when she doesn’t respond. “Hey, what’s up?”

Dimitri merely shakes his head, unable to describe the level of panic that had swept over him when he’d realised she might be in trouble. The panic that seems only inches away lately with everything that’s been going on and the constant reminders of how easily she could be taken away from him.

“Seriously,” she says, stopping and grabbing his arm to force him to do the same. “You’re worrying me now.”

Dimitri takes her by the elbow, gentle and mindful of her burn and pulls her into a forgotten alcove, where he brackets her against the wall, hands on either side of her head. “Tell me the truth,” he says, staring intently into her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she says, her voice sure, all lingering traces of amusement vanishing. “I’m okay.”

The air leaves Dimitri in a rush and his eyes slide shut as he leans forward to rest his forehead against hers.

“Hey,” she whispers, hand coming up to rest lightly against his cheek, fingers tapping out a nervous, staccato rhythm, the only sign that he’s still worrying her. “What’s wrong? I’m okay.”

I know, he wants to say. He wants to say but can’t because he doesn’t know if she really is these days. He doesn’t know if she’s okay because she seems to have all these hurts that he can’t do anything to fix. These hurts that he would do anything to fix but doesn’t know how.

And so, because it’s the only thing he can do, instead of answering his hand comes up to cover hers still against his face and he turns his head to press a kiss against her burn, lips so achingly gentle that it makes Rose sigh. Because he might not be able to fix all her hurts, but he can kiss this one and make it a little better.

#va #vampire academy #romitri #rose hathaway #dimitri belikov #mywriting #365 days of romitri #vampire academy fanfiction #va fanfiction #vampire academy fanfic #va fanfic #vampire academy fic #va fic

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whosscruffylooking · 3 years

Text

The Purest Things-Something There

Warnings: Mentions of murder. Canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 2.5k

a/n: i am so beyond sorry that it has taken this long to get another chapter out. this doesn’t follow my post schedule that i had previously given, but hopefully this can be a good place holder till later this week.

The Purest Things Masterlist

May 2008

Bookend: "It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent." -Madeleine Albright

"There's no way I'm doing that," you rebuttal, "Hotch? Tell them it's a ridiculous idea." He stays silent, but his mouth twitches slightly.

Oh, you son of a-

"Richards is a classic narcissist. The challenge of facing a tough, fearless, and intelligent woman will give him his high. Narcissists are drawn to goal-oriented women, women who are resilient, adaptable, yet decisive. Show him that you are a good listener, but don't praise him."

"Think of him like a wild animal," Spencer adds, "You don't feed zoo animals because they are unpredictable. Remember, narcissists have an extraordinary sense of self, and when you praise his ego, you enable his unstable and feeble mind. He doesn't hear praise; he hears how much better he is than you. If you don't feed the beast, he won't have the stamina to combat your confidence later."

"Once you disarm him, I'll come in and challenge his confidence," Hotch concludes.

Could you have said that less attractively? That would have been more helpful.

Aaron cheekily smirks as if reading your mind but quickly looks away. You wish you didn't blush so fast-that you had some sense to keep your emotions to yourself. In a second, your cheeks are rosy, and you are convinced that everyone in the room can perceive your feelings as if you wrote them on little notes and passed them around.

You grunt and roll your eyes, "I hate all of you."

Derek snaps his fingers at you, "Lose the jacket."

"All men are pigs," you spit while removing your blazer, leaving you in a fitted tank top and your tight-legged jeans that hug your curves in all of the right places.

Derek wolf whistles at you, and you hurl your jacket at him. Aaron lets his eyes slide up and down your body, his gaze lasting longer than it should. He swears that as you stride into the interrogation room, your hips swing a bit farther side to side than usual. It is the very action that radiates courage, a mind coupled perfectly with itself and the world around it, concentrated and solemn.

Typically, Hotch would divert the task of adulating a narcissist to Prentiss, but he knows if anyone can take command of someone's attention, it's you. How does he know? Because you captivate him far more often than he cares to admit, defying his very being with every interaction. You are a secret weapon that he wants to keep concealed until you can allow your talents to shine genuinely. Aaron knows that now is your moment. ++++ "What is it that I am being accused of? Fraud? Embezzling?" The sharp-dressed businessman questions; his gaze is straying further below your eyes than you care for.

Pig.

You throw a file down on the medal table, and it slides across, stopping right in front of the man, successfully redirecting his stare somewhere other than your chest.

"Try murder."

His eyes widen, "You're joking. Come on, where are the hidden cameras? I'm ready for you to yell candid camera now! I am Milton Richards, for god's sake!"

"I don't know!" You shrug your shoulders. "Why don't you explain this to me, Mr. Richards. I'm just as confused as you are. What reason could a successful, charming, handsome, wealthy business mogul like yourself possibly have to kill someone?"

"Oh please," Richards scoffs, "This isn't an interrogation. You've already pegged me as guilty."

"I don't agree, but you have the right to feel how you feel."

He purses his lips, leaning as far away from you as physically possible while handcuffed to the table.

"Milton, why did you try to escape a moving vehicle when my team apprehended you?"

"Just felt like it, I guess," he shrugs mockingly.

"So, something just randomly compelled you to flee the custody of a federal agent?"

Richards leers at you. You stand up and walk around the table, leaning down next to him, "I get it. I do. You're a suave, wealthy, and ruthless business tyrant. You have to cover your tracks-do what it takes to survive."

He raises his eyebrow, turning to face you, your faces mere inches from each other. I got you now.

"Trust me. I know probably better than anyone what it takes to maintain a position you fought your entire life for. I'm a woman; I had to claw my way into the F.B.I. Do you think it's easy being surrounded by a team filled with uncontrolled testosterone? Womanhood requires balls; I see you keep your balls in your pants, cool, cool. Mine are on my chest, up top. As you've so duly noticed."

His eyes flicker to the aforementioned area, and you restrain yourself from gagging.

"And you know what, Richards? I use them every day of my life. Because in my line of business, sometimes I have to take the backdoor to get things done. Why do I get the sense that you were the same way before you became Mr. Wolf of Wall Street? How else does a kid who grew up in the projects become a multi-millionaire mogul by 27?"

"We both know what the other is capable of. C'mon, let's show each other a bit of respect here. No games, let's be upfront with each other," you appeal. ++++ Aaron watches as you work the room like it is your stage. You play the part perfectly. He admires your ability to absorb things and then responded rather than immediately react to douse firey circumstances rather than add to the flames.

Derek finds himself next to Aaron, smugly observing Aaron's visible fascination with you.

"She's fantastic, Hotch," Derek beams with pride. Hotch holds his breath behind pursed lips in an attempt to barricade himself from the feelings of foolish jealousy he feels creeping up.

I know she is. I think I recognize it a little too well.

Aaron knows that Derek will be scrutinizing his reaction to the commendation and refrains from responding.

Of course, Derek reads this lack of a reaction as a response itself. And he finds it strangely amusing. ++++ "Here's what I think happened," you twirl your finger around the manilla file, "I think you were having some money troubles and your top investors caught onto your little games. When you sat down, you volunteered the crimes fraud and embezzlement as reasons you assumed we brought you into custody. You listed them like they are apparent reasons for us to charge you. Those are two areas you are clearly willing to take the fall for and have cause to oblige by."

Opening the file, a photograph is revealed within of a murder victim. Richards shifts uncomfortably in his seat, stifling a cough.

"Do you know this man?"

"N-no," he claims as his eyes flutter from the photo to his hands.

Surprised by his blatant tell, you glance back at the two-way mirror.

Turning back to the suspect with a newfound spark in your eyes, you press harder, "Strike one. Try again."

"Excuse me?"

"The man in the image is Walter Barone, the C.E.O. of Jameson Whitely Associates...your accounting firm. Your company was going bankrupt, Milton. There was nowhere left for you to turn. So, do you want to try that again? This time, answer my questions directly and honestly."

"Walt had a reserve saved for me worth $5 million. Last week when I approached him about dipping into the fund to keep the company afloat, he withheld it. I wouldn't kill him for it, though."

"Well, see, that's the problem here, Milton. When he was found, that little reserve of yours was nowhere to be found. Naturally, you can assume where my mind goes when I try and put two and two together, right?"

"I told you," he says, clearly provoked by your accusation, "I wouldn't...didn't kill him."

"Wasn't it you, in your book, right? Who said, 'It's surprising what a man will do when properly motivated?' I don't know about you, but losing everything you'd ever worked for and having your one saving grace held from you seems like pretty good motivation."

Silence. "Oh, come on, Milton, now is not the time to act so arrogant!"

He slams his fists on the table; you abstain from being startled in an attempt to show him no fear.

Wild animals can smell fear.

"Arrogant, huh? Why don't you step up and prove me wrong? Prove you're better than me. You despise me for being successful; I despise you for your assumption that you could waltz in here like a tramp and seduce me into giving myself up. What? Too harsh? I'm not sure you and I are even the same species."

Hotch bursts into the room, and you quickly signal for him to stand down. I've got this.

He gives you a prideful wink. I know you do.

Somehow Aaron being in the room gives you that last little push to conclude this grand performance of yours. Slowly, you begin clapping dramatically for his little one-person comedy act. He certainly knows how to play the fool.

"Is that a dare? Challenge accepted. Your entire life, you have suffered from a disease... a fragile ego. You have built these walls of detachment so that you can conveniently solicit status to hide your true, weak self. You lash out because you feel it compensates for your insecurities."

"The truth is, despite being at the top of the corporate chain, every day you lead the life of a loser. You are willing to destroy people psychically, emotionally, and mentally. And you view that as a cause for celebration. You are the embodiment of a loser and abject failure."

Hotch touches the small of your back; you shiver at the sudden warmth that fills your body in reaction to it. He hands you a piece of paper, one that seals Richards' conviction.

"Milton Richards, you are under arrest for the murder of Walter Barone, Hank Simmons, Frankie Lisbon, and Jillian Ryder."

Hotch motions for you to do the honors.

"By all means, lead the way."

Holding yourself proud and tall, you waltz over to Milton and hoist him out of his chair. Inclining your lips to his ear, you tell him contemptuously, "You lose." ++++ "Way to go, superstar! You had us all on the edge of our seats," Derek says, wrapping his muscular arms around you. You breathe in his cologne and savor the sensation of being in his arms.

Since the day you met Morgan, you've felt a draw to him. Not in a romantic way, though you proudly admit he is hands-down one of the most gorgeous men to set foot on earth. He gives you the feeling of safety, warmth, and brotherly love. His hugs rejuvenate you after a long day of work, and you see to it that neither of you leaves the office without receiving your signature embraces.

Aaron observes you and Derek's shared embrace from the shelter of his office. Before he can comprehend his movements, his legs carry him to the terrace overlooking the bullpen.

What do you think you're doing, Hotch? Pull yourself together. They’re friends. Just like you and her are.

Dismissing his inner voice of reason, he calls out to you, "Y/L/N. See me in my office."

You grimace at his tone of voice but abide by his request.

Derek chuckles, "Green is not that man's color."

"What?" You turn to him, confused.

"Goodnight, superstar."

"Night, handsome," you blow him a kiss, trying to brush his comment out of your mind. ++++ "You summoned?"

Aaron's whiskey-colored eyes meet yours. The tempo of your heart quickens like a metronome.

"You did a phenomenal job in there."

"I've learned from the best." You. I've learned from you.

He clears his throat, "Those things you said...a-about the men on this team. Is that how you truly feel?"

Shocked by his willingness to believe such a misleading statement, you gasp and close the distance between the two of you.

You must have some nerve to believe that I would ever view you as anything other than the most upstanding man I've ever met.

"Aaron, what I said in there is further than the truth than I would have liked to have strayed. In fact, it was with you that I finally felt equal as a human being-like someone recognized me for my intellect and self-worth. A woman can't acquire that regardless of how 'equal' this world claims to be."

Aaron finds himself lost in your eyes, absorbing every meaning behind your words.

"It was a freeing feeling having someone I respect so highly show me similar respect."

No. Don't stop talking. Please. Hotch blushes at his inner monologue, incapable of comprehending precisely what kind of influence you hold on him.

"Anyway," you laugh, brushing away a strand of hair that had fallen in your face, "Sorry for my little tangent."

"No," Hotch interjects firmly, "Never apologize for expressing your feelings. I assured you last year that I'll always be available as a sounding board for you. That offer still stands."

Your gaze softens as you study him, his intentions, his mannerisms. He notices your pupils dilate, and it commences a chain reaction within his veins. To him, it's not the fact that you radiate beauty on the outside. Sure, you are physically fit and put in the effort to maintain your appearance. Naturally, that would be why someone like Derek Morgan would have you on his radar.

But, Aaron has gradually grown accustomed to the kindness that you seem to reserve just for him. He sees the differences between how you act around the team versus when you step inside his office or are alone in the car with him, even the way your confidence elevates when he walks into the interrogation room.

These differences aren't unique to just you, though. Aaron notices the same changes in himself when he is around you. Never did he expect to go home from work and lie in bed thinking about the way your eyes strayed on his for a moment too long, or how as he completed paperwork at his desk, he'd replay in his mind a cheesy joke you told the team. He knows how you like your coffee from observing you in the break room one too many times.

One cream, two sugars.

Your laughter warms his body from the inside out. When you talk about your favorite comic book with Prentiss and Morgan, the twinkle in your eye never fails to bring a smile to his face. He knows that you hate getting out of the car when it rains because your perfectly straightened hair that you spent god knows how long on will undoubtedly curl.

His changes were less evident on the outside. But, he knew that deep down, there is something there that wasn't there before.

Tag List:

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jimlingss · 3 years

Note

can i request a yoongi chef au? i feel like yoongi's culinary skills are underrated, and I'm just a slut for chef aus in general

Anonymous said: Hi I saw ur request open posts for the new year!!! Could u write more yoongi stories🥺?!?! Your stories are so fantastic and i’m thirsty for more yoongi lolol🤪(hopefully u get enough votes to do more of him haha)

I feel like Jin’s the one who’s usually written as the chef, prob because he’s the better known chef in BTS, but you’re right! There’s gotta be more chef Yoongi!AUs, so here you go!!!

↳ Buttering Up

2.2k || 100% Fluff & Flirtation || Min Yoongi || Chef!AU

He clearly doesn’t know who you are.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.”

You hum, arms crossed as you eye him up and down. His black hair is practically a bowl cut, bangs covering his forehead. He’s in casual clothes — a taupe trench and black pants — looking like he’s ready for a trip to the grocery store rather than to cook. You wonder where this child crawled out from.

“You’re Yoongi?”

“That I am.” He approaches the door of the restaurant before plunging his hands inside his trench coat pockets. He fishes out the key and unlocks it, ushering you inside. “Hope you don’t mind that the restaurant’s closed down.”

You mind much more that he left you waiting on the cold city street for over ten minutes. You still can’t believe he was late. The audacity.

“I would’ve liked to see how you and your staff do your dinner service.”

“Unfortunately, we’re booked full for the next two months.”

You scoff — how doesn’t he know who you are? You’re a food critic who’s brought highly regarded restaurants to their knees through a review of five sentences. Your words alone has had rippled effects in the industry. Even the most talented chefs hold their breaths when you taste-test.

You make Gordon Ramsey look like Mother Teresa.

This Yoongi character is much too arrogant to not respect you. His new and upcoming restaurant might have raving reviews, but you’ll see what’s really going on.

“Sit wherever you’d like.”

There are no waiters in fancy garb, no hand sewn tablecloths made of silk. He doesn’t even pull out the chair for you. Instead, he’s off flickering on the lights of the restaurant while you choose a wooden table and chair right in front of his open kitchen — which is a horrible mistake in itself.

Open kitchens have always been a concept that has fallen short in your eyes. It’s much too noisy during dinner service and it gets smelly fast. Who actually wants to leave smelling like butter and oil?

It’s something you note as you get settled.

Your coat drapes at the back of the chair and then you watch him. Yoongi’s taken off his trench as well, revealing a white long sleeve that he’s beginning to roll up to his elbows. He’s lean and his build is small, but somehow, he’s far from being scrawny. You gawk at the veins running up his forearm until he casually asks—

“Do you have a preference for wine?”

“I’m fine with any.”

He hums and comes over from the glass cabinet with a bottle of chardonnay and a wine glass. Yoongi pops the bottle easily and pours into the pristine glass with a mere tilt of his wrist. You watch the stream fill the glass a quarter way full.

“Is there a menu?”

“You don’t need one.”

Your brows raise. “Excuse me?”

“If I were you, I’d put myself in the chef’s hands entirely and go with their recommendation.” He strides away, placing the wine bottle on the other table and then he turns with a glint in his eye and his mouth slightly crooked upwards. “Unless, of course, you don’t trust your chef.”

Oh. He’s confident.

You can’t wait for his ego to blow up in his face.

“Fine then.” Your head tilts upwards. “What’s your recommendation then?”

He rounds his way to go into the kitchen that’s only a few meters away from where you sit. “Risotto with grilled chicken breast, topped off with caramelized onions, mushroom, grilled zucchini and sautéed tomatoes.”

You roll your eyes. What a basic dish. Isn’t it just rice? And with chicken breast?! Ew. It's guaranteed to be bland.

“Alright then.” You give a smile that might be more mocking than intended. “We’ll see how it tastes.”

Yoongi starts and while sipping the chardonnay, you take a good look at the restaurant from your spot. The place is rustic with a hint of contemporary. There’s exposed brick, wooden tables and chairs, and low, yellow lighting. There’s nothing particularly impressive about the place.

Soon, the sound of rapid, rhythmic chopping fills the space and then sizzling. You watch him intently. And you’re appalled. This Yoongi guy commits the worst cooking sins — his pan is cold when he starts throwing on ingredients. He cooks with olive oil. He overcrowds the pan. And he doesn’t even taste test once as he cooks.

What the actual fuck.

There’s a line between arrogance and insanity, and he was crossing it.

You cringe when he starts using his metallic spatula on the non-stick skillet.

Is he even qualified to run a restaurant?!

Or maybe your assistant sent you information about the wrong restaurant? Or maybe this was not the guy you were supposed to be eating from. What if he poisons you or kills off all of your taste buds?! Your career would be ruined.

“Everything going okay?” you pipe up.

He glances up at you for the first time, eyes peering past his bangs. “Yep. Should be done in five.”

Food is simple. It either tastes good or it doesn’t. But the higher up you go and the fancier it gets, the more convoluted the food tastes with bland flakes of gold and the same old truffle shavings. That or it’s entirely boring and unoriginal.

Or in this case, it might kill you. Which would be the first. And you’re not happy about it.

You feel unsettled when he plops the dish in front of you.

“Chef’s recommendation.”

“Thanks.”

You feel unsettled because it actually smells good. The aroma that fills your senses is flavoursome and buttery, and the thyme on top adds a fresh hint. You’re also unsettled because the plating isn’t actually bad. It’s been presented in a pasta bowl with wavy designs and the chicken breast is thinly and neatly sliced on top. It’s clean. It’s bright. It’s colourful.

But the most lethal poisons are the appetizing ones.

“Are you going to wait until it gets cold?”

You look up, brows raising at how he’s gotten comfortable in the chair across from you. Usually the chefs and waiters or waitresses like to skedaddle off and leave you to your own thoughts, too afraid to stand in your intense scrutiny. But Min Yoongi twists off the cap of his water bottle and casually downs it in front of you.

“I’m just looking at the presentation.”

“Tastes better than it looks,” he exhales after swallowing his water.

Your expression becomes skeptical. But you take the silver spoon beside you anyhow and decide not to waste any more time.

The spoonful goes into your mouth. He watches you. You chew.

Instantly, you halt.

The flavour hits your tongue. Creamy. Thick. But each individual grain of rice still has some firmness with a discernible texture. It’s been done al dente. There’s sweetness from the caramelized onions. An earthy flavour from the mushrooms. A zesty touch from the thyme. The chicken breast is somehow still juicy and the tomatoes burst on your palate.

Suddenly, you’re thrusted back into your childhood. Those summer days spent in the cottage. Sun-kissed cheeks, dirtied knees, cotton dresses. You can hear your late grandmother in the kitchen. The way she calls out that it’s lunchtime. You can feel the comfort of family and love.

It feels like you’ve become the food critic in the ratatouille movie.

You almost cry.

“What do you think?”

You clear your throat. You have to be honest. There’s no way you can lie about something like this. “It’s good. I think...this is the best risotto I’ve ever had. You cooked it perfectly and the toppings you chose were absolutely immaculate with this dish—”

You look up at him. Min Yoongi has an enormous, cocky smirk plastered across his stupid face.

It’s entirely off-putting.

“But of course,” you quickly add, “there are many ways you could improve on it. You could add cilantro—”

“That would unnecessarily drown out the notes of thyme you taste,” he rebukes without a single beat and you scoff.

“I noticed you didn’t add any pepper to it which could deepen the flavour.”

“Except this dish doesn’t need it,” Yoongi deadpans. “You don’t need to help me make any adjustments. I think I know what I’m doing better than you are. Just do your job and I’ll do mine.”

You suck in your cheek and narrow your eyes on him before you take another bite of the risotto while it’s still hot. “The food is delicious, but I must say, the company really spoils it.”

Yoongi’s slumped with one cheek resting in his hand, elbow on the table. He lazily stares at you with that smirk of his. “Really? Because if I didn’t know any better, you look nervous rather than annoyed.”

You scoff for the second time. “Why would I be nervous?”

“Maybe you didn’t expect the food to taste as good as it does and that makes me unexpectedly attractive,” he states plainly. You almost choke. You hit your chest as you sputter. “Or maybe you’re intimidated by me. I’ve gotten both before.”

You wipe your mouth with the napkin. “I’m afraid you’re not very perceptive, Min Yoongi.”

“Really? I think I am.” He smiles, the corners of his mouth quirked. “I’ve read your reviews before.”

You’re unamused. “Have you now? So you must know how difficult I am to satisfy.”

His smirk is sly and it’s jarring against his softer, more tender features. He’s smaller than the men you’re used to being around, but somehow it feels like he’s taken up the entire space of the restaurant. His focus on you is sweat-inducing. Even if you don’t want to admit it.

“I don’t think so. You’ve just been eating shit food,” he says bluntly and your brow cocks. “You just need someone good you can trust. Someone who can take care of you properly.”

You’re not sure if the double entendre is purposeful. You wouldn’t put it past him.

“And is this someone you?”

Yoongi shrugs and sits back. “It could be.”

You grab your glass of chardonnay and gulp the rest in an effort to stop the conversation before it completely derails into a different direction. Yet, Yoongi’s half-lidded and darkened eyes stay on yours with each swallow. He’s unfazed. Unbothered. And that bothers you even more — bothered in a way that makes your face hot.

There’s a clack as you put the wine glass down and gasp.

“I’m a professional.” You won’t be swayed so easily. “I can’t be bribed.”

“Of course.” He blinks as if he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. You glare at him and he gestures to the dish. “Please. Keep eating.”

You finish the plate.

“Do you want any seconds?” he asks as he gets up.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Yoongi lingers, all too brazen and fearless. “If you don’t get any more now, you might have to come back for more.”

This time, you don’t try to hide the roll of your eyes. “That’s a presumptuous assumption.”

Yoongi smirks and his voice is husky. “After getting a taste from me, everyone comes back for more.

You scoff.

Min’s Restaurant Review

Three nights ago, I ate at Min’s Restaurant and met the main man in the kitchen. Unfortunately, he is a difficult person to interact with. I hope no one has the disservice of having to speak to the chef behind the dishes. Doing so may as well ruin the experience. Furthermore, his cooking methods are unconventional and unorthodox. It was completely shocking to watch.

However, and what I would consider most important, the food at Min’s Restaurant is spectacular. What Min’s Restaurant lacks in likeable personnel, they make up in the served cuisine. The meal that was prepared for me not only subverted my initial expectations, but overcomes, what I consider, what the food industry is lacking in this modern age exactly. Without unnecessary garnishes and ingredients, the flavours of Min’s Restaurant are both light and deep. It was an undeniable delight to consume and for the first time, I licked my plate clean.

It is undoubted that the man behind Min’s Restaurant has the hands of god.

You should have pride.

But you’ve always loved good food. It’s your Achilles heel. It’s the one thing you’ve been passionate about since you were a kid. The reason why you love your job.

Even after writing such a review, you find yourself booking another reservation. But as a customer instead of a critic.

Of course, they were booked full for the next six months, largely thanks to your review, and they swiftly refused you with numerous apologies. But they called back not ten minutes later. You have a feeling that your name finally sunk into them — that he had something to do with it.

That theory is confirmed when you arrive. The person in question is next to the seemingly nervous hostess as the noisy kitchen echoes throughout the busy restaurant.

In the low lighting, Min Yoongi stands there with a relaxed smirk. As if he was expecting you. As if he knew you’d come crawling back to him to eat out of the palm of his hand, literally and figuratively.

You hate that he’s right.

“Welcome back.”

#bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic #yoongi fluff #yoongi scenario #yoongi reader insert #bts scenario #bts fluff #bts reader insert #yoongi x reader #honestly this is one of my favourite drabbles out of the entire collection #I think someone else mentioned there's not enough flirty Yoongi out there #AND I AGREE #this man naturally has big dick energy and I love it lmao #jimlings #Anonymous

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

Little Witch -Part 17

The Darkling x Reader

The day ended and you would be lying to yourself if you said you weren't disappointed that Aleksander didn't make an appearance. You spent some time in the banya and read peacefully in the library, soaking up the silence before retiring to bed thinking about the Winter Fete.

You had a meeting with the Queen today regarding the festivities and you would rather enter the Fold than converse with the self-centred woman. Nonetheless, you threw on a more traditional red kefta, knowing that if you wore one of your favourites she would turn her nose at you and sulk throughout the meeting.

She didn't acknowledge you with your title, merely nodding as you entered a room in the Grand Palace surrounded by First-Army guards.

'What is this year's Winter Fete going to entail Moya Tsaritsa? Are there any performers you wish for me to vet before their arrival?' You let her think she had the control, but in reality, there wasn't a single soul that entered your palace that wasn't already vetted by you and Aleksander, or so you'd like to think.

'I suppose there is yes but I can't remember-' She pointed to a stack of papers on the desk.' -I have performers coming from all around Ravka. You know it's a huge honour to get an invite to this festivity and I didn't hold back on the travelling troupes, my people deserve to see their King and Queen at least once in their lifetime' My people.

'They really should since you work so hard to ensure their safety and prosperity.' You forced yourself to say and it was doubtful that she heard the edge to your voice.

'Diplomacy is the only way to win a war Deputy, wind and fire won't get us anywhere.' She laughed as if she'd just told a hilarious joke.

You bit your tongue and stayed quiet, Aleksander would kill you if you misspoke around a member of the Crown.

'How old are you Deputy?' This caught you off guard.

'Why is that a topic of conversation?'

'I heard rumours that you're quite old, older than the General-' She laughed again '-yet you look like, well look at yourself.' Her laughing never ceased and it drilled through your head. It was a burst of laughter concealing sheer jealousy and spite.

'Don't listen to rumours Moya Tsaritsa, it does nobody any good.'

'If you say so.'

'Back to the Fete, I assume your sons will be attending?'

'Only Vasily. Nikolai is busy with his studies in Ketterdam. He's about your age you know, or rather the age you look. Tell me have you been meeting with Genya Saffin?' Her condescending tone of voice was enough to make you want to jump out the window.

'Yes, I make it my job to meet with as many of my Grisha as I can.'

'Ms.Saffin is my lady, she does not belong to the Second-Army.'

'She's still Grisha, isn't she? Therefore she is my responsibility, Moya Tsaritsa.' She looked away clearly displeased.

'I must excuse myself, Deputy. Tell General Kirigan I send my best regards.' Her lavish gown trailed behind her as did her swarm of ladies. You couldn't help but let your mind wander, When I am Queen- No. Stop. Don't get your hopes up.

You stood with a huff with the papers safely tucked under your arm as guards came to your side signalling that it was time to leave and you happily obliged. The walls of the Grand Palace were still as tacky as you remembered them, even more so now and you itched to leave. The Little Palace was by no means simple, but it had a sense of humbleness about it that the Crown lacked heavily.

***

'Don't ever make me go there ever again.' Your agitated voice cut through the peaceful lull of Aleksander's war room. You dropped the papers on the large round table and reached for the bottle of kvas sitting idly by, tempting your tastebuds. He was standing at the opposite end, inspecting the current war map with furrowed brows.

'I suppose you won't accompany me to the war council meeting this evening then?'

'If you want me there I'll be there. Besides I was talking about the Queen and her obsession with my age.' You rolled your eyes and drank from your glass.

'Your age?'

'Yeah, I don't know why. She does know Grisha live longer, right?'

'I'm assuming she was jealous of your incredibly good looks. Not an imperfection insight, darling.' He rounded the table and approached you.

'Same goes to you General, she sends her best regards by the way.' You felt his hands wrap around your waist, pulling you close to his chest.

'I only have eyes on one Queen, yet she stands before me with the obvious lack of a crown on her head.' His boyish smile that always made you giddy returned.

'Getting ahead of ourselves much?'

'No.' His lips came down to yours, the smile still pulling at his cheeks. Your hands went to his hair, pulling on the black strands with a fervour of longing.

It had been a while since you and Aleksander had time alone that wasn't spent fighting and arguing and it showed through your actions. The sweet kiss turned into a daring fight for control. His hands desperately pulled at the edges of your red kefta, pulling it open not giving a care to the buttons flying over the room. You did the same, although his silver buckles proved to be harder to undo than your flimsy buttons.

'Aleksander' You panted as he stormed your neck with his urgent lips, hands gripping your waist so tightly it was bound to bruise. His touch ignited a fire deep within you, burning its way to your core, where one of his hands brushed against you. He pushed you back against the table, knocking war props out of the way to make room for you and spread your thighs wide.

'Keep quiet darling, there are ears everywhere he whispered in your ear as he delved a finger into you, his thumb working your clit without a hurry. Your back arched at the sudden feeling and the involuntary moan was swallowed by his lips attacking yours once again. He worked you right to the edge, to the point of your moans turning into whimpers of plea for your climax.

'Please Aleksander'

'When I make you cum in my war room, it'll be when I command it.' His rough hands let go of your waist, instead working to undo his breeches then to lay your back flat on the table.

'I will never grow tired of this view.' He mused and pushed himself into you, a throaty moan erupting from his throat that almost immediately sent another pulse of arousal through you.

He stretched your walls to the limit, letting himself adjust to you, then with a force so pleasurable but sinful, moved in and out. By the fifth thrust, your stilled orgasm washed over you with brute force. He felt the blood rush as you did, basking in the pleasure of your climax as he chased his own.

With your lip between your teeth to silence your moans while your body racked from waves of pleasure, Aleksander stared down at you with the passion of a thousand fires. He felt immense pride knowing he was the reason for your euphoria and nobody else. You were his. Your silent whimpers drove his lust even deeper, sinking into you with a resolve long forgotten.

'Faster.' You breathed and he did as he was told, pulling you up into his chest, pounding into you to satisfy you once more. Not long after did he push himself over the edge, muttering your name like a prayer while you did the same, clutching onto his body for dear life.

He captured your lips with his one last time, silently speaking the words 'I love you' before pulling out, earning you a feeling of emptiness in return. You feared that if he set you back on the ground, your knees would surely buckle beneath you. The feeling of post-sex bliss was nothing compared to the relaxation of yesterday's banya especially when Aleksander was involved.

'We'll be late to the meeting dear.' He said against your lips, not loosening his grip on you or making a move to leave.

'So you do want me there.' You laughed.

'I always want you with me.'

------

Part 18

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!)

@theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb

#shadow and bone #the darkling #grisha #imagine #the darkling x reader #ben barnes #alexander #alexander morozova #fanfic #alina starkov

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magesmiths · 3 years

Text

flowers, @wayhavensummer prompt

pairing: nat x lottie

regency au, post break up

a/n: is it technically after midnight? yes. am i posting this without any context? here's some: nat has broken up with lottie "for her own good". flashbacks are to just before this.

She almost doesn’t open the letter.

She hadn’t opened the last, had cast it straight into the open fire in her bedroom. Three weeks had passed since then. Three weeks of agonising tossing and turning and staring at the fireplace as if it could provide the answers its flames had licked at until they were only ash.

But this letter feels lighter, not like the heavy paper she usually writes on. The precise lettering, the way the ink curls around the ‘L’ in her name, mean it could only be from her. But if not a lengthy apology… then what?

Her curious fingers leap ahead of her mind, breaking the seal and reaching inside. She pulls out a small card and opens it just to feel a lump in her throat at the pressed flowers within.

Forget-me-nots were the first she chose. Obvious, perhaps, when they are due to be separated soon. But she thinks of her mother when she sees their blue petals, a shade so close to eyes she only sees in memory. Next are the dandelions, faces like the sun that she can’t help but smile at. Lastly, the violet wood sorrel, creeping through the cracks of the path, insistent on growing where they should not.

Nat had looked at the collection of flowers in Lottie’s hand and her lips quirked up in one corner. “You know, most people choose not to press weeds.”

“Did you want me to steal Ava’s roses? I doubt that would endear her to me more and I need all the approval points I can get from her.”

She had smiled at that, choosing not to comment. Nat did that. She left things unsaid; let Lottie hang in the space between them, wondering.

Lottie’s chair scrapes against the wooden floor as she rises suddenly. She ignores the stares from her aunt and brother, mutters poor excuses, and leaves.

When she reaches her room she lays the flowers out on her desk. They feel fragile beneath her fingers now. She traces them lightly, remembering the vivid colour they held when she first plucked them from the ground. They are no longer quite as bright.

“A moment sealed in time,” Nat had said. She had looked up, deep brown eyes flickering between Lottie’s hazel ones, finding her closer than expected.

Closer than they should be, there in the open of the library. Lottie had reached over, placed her hand over Nat’s and closed the heavy book without looking away. Her eyes had flickered down at Nat’s tongue wetting her lips, before glancing up again.

“How long do they need to be pressed for?”

“Four weeks, to be sure.”

Their voices were low, as though the mere act of placing flowers between pages of books was a secret just for them. And then she couldn’t help but lean closer. She could never help herself where Nat was concerned.

And Nat had been the same. She was closing the gap, kissing her as though it was easier than breathing, a hand on her waist pulling her closer, closer, closer.

Lottie’s own hand is clenched now, she feels lost, unmoored by this blank card filled only with flowers, their meaning unclear. A farewell? Or a symbol of hope?

She turns to her own, unfinished, letters, piling up on the desk, re-reading the last words she had written.

I hardly know myself anymore. I am fool, I am fine, I am but a fleeting moment in time.

If I am a mystery to myself, who, what, am I to you?

She looks back to the flowers, furrows her brow and picks up her quill.

Am I simply another flower, petals pressed between pages of a well-loved book? Am I kept in a tome you might hold from time to time? Elegant fingers caressing the words, soft yet insistent, reminiscent of what we once were? What we might have been.

Or might it be one you stash away, never to be opened again? Yes — yes! Hide me from the world so I might not be consumed by the inevitability of our fate.

I hope you keep it close regardless, the bloom once so beautiful and fragrant, now dried and crushed to preserve it from death. (Is it not still a death? It seems almost cruel to kill it at the peak of its beauty rather than let it live out its life, no matter how fleeting it must be.)

All flowers must wilt and perhaps that is their beauty. A fleeting existence, one we are lucky to experience—

Lottie pauses her quill, the nib blotting ink over her last words. She shakes her head, almost laughing at herself. The fire flickers in the corner of her eye, calling to her, to the letters they both know will remain unsent, to the pressed flowers she can’t bear to look at.

#twc fic #wayhaven summer #nat sewell #nat x lottie #twc #writing #oc: lottie fitzwilliam

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

Diabolik Twitter ー Reiji Sakamaki [2020 Compilation]

–> This post includes all tweets posted on the official Rejet Twitter account for Reiji Sakamaki (@DialoverReijiS) in 2020.

Shuu l Ayato l Kanato l Laito l Subaru l Ruki l Kou l Yuma l Azusa l Carla l Shin l Kino

February 14, 2020 (Valentine’s Day)

> This year, once again, I’m making chocolates after Kanato has come begging to me in tears.

> Time after time…Why do I have to do such a thing?”

> Oh well, it’s fine. Now that I’ve made the promise, I should hurry up and get started on it. I might as well challenge myself this year and make some chocolate lollies.

> Takoyaki has nothing to do with it. (@Ayato)

March 14, 2020 (White Day)

> I received some sweets from Kanato, miracles do happen after all.

> I wonder if he’s returning the favor of Valentine’s Day. I’m surprised he has this side to him.

> It’s a rare occasion, so I’ll give them a taste. I’ll hand them out to the other brothers as well.

> Could I have a minute?

> Oh dear, your expression became tense as soon as you saw me. I reached out to you, wanting to thank you for the chocolates from the other day, but did you think I was going to scold you, perhaps?

> Of course, there is plenty I want to tell you. However, that is only because I feel so strongly for you.

> Simply put, there might be times where I accidentally end up doting on you a little too much. It is embarrassing to admit, but that is just how much I love you.

April 1, 2020 (April Fools)

> For God’s sake, that man...He simply cannot act without having to show off.

> I’m talking about the eldest son of the Mukami family. He made a big deal out of it and even published a public announcement, believing their own lies are the most humorous. Showing off how cooperative his younger brothers are.

> Simply ridiculous.

> [Only today] We shall be hosting a haunted house at our manor. It is called ‘The Sakamaki House of Horrors’. The demons living at this manor shall try and lure you into a dark world of fear. Please do not hesitate to take on the challenge. For more information, click the link below. --> dialover.net. #SakamakiHouseofHorrors #AprilFools

> Please be cautious when setting foot inside the kitchen. One, two...You might hear the sound of someone counting plates. When you listen till the very end...Fufu, what comes next is a secret. #AprilFools

April 28, 2020

> The fact that a mere servant such as yourself dares trouble me is simply unacceptable.

> How could you nod off in the middle of your studies? It seems like you need to be punished.

April 29, 2020

> I wish you would at least keep quiet during the commute to school.

May 5, 2020

> Just as Subaru informed me, illegal footage of us is going around.

> Let us deal with it at once. I simply cannot look past being exposed in such a fashion.

> However, before that.

> It seems like Ayato and the others have been pulling all sorts of mischief behind my back. I shall take care of that first.

May 27, 2020

> Oh dear? What seems to be the matter? Can no longer stand? Your punishment is not over yet.

> I shall give you the same stimulus as before. It seems like you simply do not comprehend unless I teach it directly to your body after all.

> Although, I am doubtful how effective it will be on someone like you, who can find joy not only in pleasure, but in pain as well.

> What a shameless woman you are.

> You should feel ashamed of yourself. I shall not let you go, until you fix that attitude, understood?

Juy 7, 2020 (Tanabata)

> I pray that one day, we will have less bills for reparation costs to pay. #TanabataWishes

July 20, 2020

> Who is the one who swapped Kanato’s glasses with my own?

> Good grief. What a ridiculous prank.

August 29, 2020 (Birthday)

> Are you satisfied with today? Well, I can tell just by looking at your face. Good grief, how come you seem to be enjoying it more than me every year? Seems like you are in need of a punishment to teach you some composure? Fufu, let us go to my room then. Even though my birthday has ended, I shall not let you leave my side.

October 14, 2020

> Shuu, when are you finally going to wake up? (@Shuu)

> Good grief. Fine, be late for school then if that’s what you wish.

October 20, 2020 (DL x Mayla Classic)

> Do you have a minute?

> On today’s grocery run, I came across something which might suit you at an accessory store which happened to catch my attention. Us brothers shall gift it to you.

> Yes, us brothers. I decided to purchase it after sharing a photograph with the others and asking for everyone’s opinion. Will you accept it?

> I am glad to hear that. Well then, please come and get it yourself.

> Why of course. Who said we would spoil you that much? I placed it in the room where I have frequently punished you, so please go ahead.

> Now where could that be, I wonder?

October 31, 2020 (Halloween)

> You truly have a particular fondness for holidays, no? Well, this is nothing new, so I shall be so generous to keep you company. Well then, between my baked sweets and these fangs, which one do you prefer?

November 20, 2020

> Seems like we’re actually in for a peaceful day for once.

> I shall make use of this opportunity to enjoy a cup of this high-quality tea I purchased the other day.

> I suppose I shall pour her a cup later as well.

December 18, 2020

> You broke the plate because your hand cramped from the cold? Did you truly believe I would fall for such an obvious excuse? Seems like I will have to teach you a thing or two about how to handle silverware...However, before that, show me whether you’ve hurt yourself or not. Come on, your hand.

December 19, 2020

> I suppose it doesn’t hurt to take a small break on the way back from shopping every now and then. For our beverages...How about this drink? The deep blue color is very alluring, and I am especially curious about the spicy aftertaste it is said to provide. Seeing as you still like to cause me trouble, I’d dare argue a little ‘kick’* is exactly what you need at times.

-> Literally he says that he needs to give you ‘the whip’ every now and then. However, ‘muchi’ is also a way to refer to punishment in general in Japanese, coming from the idom ‘ame to muchi’ which is the Japanese equivalent of ‘carrot and stick’.

December 24, 2020 (Christmas)

> Merry Christmas. May I assist you in preparing the dinner? I assume it is uncommon for me to make such an offer, but I figured that today, it would be nice if we could do something together.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #sakamaki reiji #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers twitter #diabolik lovers tweets #reiji2020

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kathonyxbee · 3 years

Text

“I’m not jealous. Truly.”

Hello, hello!

Happy Kathony Week!!! 🐝🌷⛈

Here is my entry for the prompt: “jealousy and all its cousins” (Day 1)

Set post-wedding, pre-ILY. When Kate joins Daphne at Lady Danbury's soirée, she hears a lot about Anthony's reputation as a Rake which causes certain feelings to gnaw at her. It's a good thing Anthony can read her so well and knows just the way to convince her otherwise.

Or, Kate is jealous and Anthony has no problem telling her he wants her, but can't tell her he loves her.

“Don’t cause too much trouble tonight, will you?” Anthony requested from where he sat in a chair on the other side of their room, Newton yapping at his feet. He was already dressed for the evening, though they weren’t attending together. Anthony was heading for White’s with his brothers, while Kate was off with Daphne, the Duchess of Hastings and her sister-in-law, at Lady Danbury’s Soirée. She’d been surprised when the invitation had arrived, and had been considering whether or not to refuse, trying to figure out what was appropriate now that she was Lady Bridgerton, but Daphne had dropped by the other day, and after she’d told Kate what Lady Danbury’s Soirée for the Married Ladies of the Ton involved, Kate had eagerly accepted the invitation. So, here she was, getting ready while her husband lounged around, watching her.

“Hmph,” Kate huffed as her maid applied the finishing touches to her hairstyle while she tried to pick one of the flower headpieces to pin to her hair. Her curly hair had been tamed into an intricate, braided updo, leaving a few curls framing her face, just how Anthony liked it. Which, was ridiculous in and of itself as they weren’t even attending together, but a part of her rather liked pleasing him as much as she enjoyed teasing him. Hopefully, she would be able to do both. Her gaze flickered to Anthony’s, briefly, “cause trouble?” she asked, her eyes wide. “Who? Me? Impossible,” she quipped drily.

“Nice try, Kate,” he deadpanned, rolling his eyes before glancing, briefly, at his pocket watch, his eyebrow creasing slightly.

“Besides,” she murmured, “this is a gathering for the married ladies of the ton. It shall be a most lovely and perfectly innocent evening, indeed,” she told him, though her lip twitched slightly because from the little Daphne had told her, she knew it was going to be anything but. Still, it was nice to make Anthony squirm, a little.

He scoffed, “now, why do I doubt that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, dear husband,” she retorted sweetly, catching his gaze briefly, and a shiver ran down her spine at the way he was looking at her. She turned to her maid, “would you please excuse us?” she whispered quietly. The maid glanced between the two of them for a moment before curtsying and scurrying off, understanding that it was best for her to leave.

As soon as the door was shut, Anthony leapt to his feet and strode over to her, positioning himself right behind her, and she could feel him breathing heavily in her ear.

“Are you sure about that, dear wife?” he growled as he ran his hands down her arms, his teeth lightly grazing her skin, sending another shiver down her spine.

“Quite sure,” she quipped drily, trying to sound nonchalant, but her body reacted to the proximity between them, and she stiffened, a shiver running down her spine. Anthony merely hummed in her ear, though he didn’t seem convinced.

Slowly, he reached for one of the flower pins on her dressing table, and picked one that matched the color of her dress before gently pinning it to her hair, his finger brushing against her ear, causing a shiver to run down her spine. Her husband did that to her, the insufferable man.

“Thank you,” she breathed out as she peered at their reflection in her vanity mirror. They did look good together, almost but not quite the same height, her dark skin in contrast with his pale one, but oddly enough they fit. More than that, it felt right to have Anthony by her side, behind her, to be on his arm. So, perhaps it wasn’t that bad to be married to him, even if he she would have no love. He was still attentive, and gentle, and the nicest man in all of London.

Anthony pressed a quick, chaste kiss to her temple. “You look rather exquisite, dear wife,” he murmured in her ear, and she blushed, slightly, because every time he complimented her it felt like the first time. And, damn him for being so good with him because he was making it more and more difficult not to fall in love with him.

“Not so bad yourself, dear husband. Not that it matters, as you’re only going to your club,” she quipped, small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as she put on her earrings.

“Is that so?” he remarked, sounding mock hurt as he helped her with her necklace, fastening it around her neck.

“Mm. Thank you.”

There was a knock on the door, interrupting them.

“Enter!” Anthony barked, and once more her ladies’ maid returned.

She bobbed a curtsy, “my lord, my lady, the Duchess of Hastings is here,” she announced.

“Thank you,” Kate murmured, flashing her a smile. “The Viscount and I shall join her in a moment,” she added, dismissing her, and the maid nodded, bobbed a curtsy once more before leaving. Kate turned to her husband. “Well, that is my cue to leave,” she told him, grabbing her gloves from the table, slipping them on. Anthony was already ready to go, and he offered her his arm.

“Shall we, wife?”

“Of course, husband,” she muttered primly as she took his arm, the two of them making their way downstairs to the drawing room where Daphne, the Duchess of Hastings was waiting.

She stood as soon as they arrived, eager to greet them.

“Brother! Kate!” she exclaimed, immediately pulling Anthony in for a hug, exchanging cheek kisses with him.

“Sister,” Anthony muttered with a smile.

Daphne then turned to Kate, pulling her in for a hug as well.

“Daphne, how lovely to see you,” she said, exchanging cheek kisses with her sister-in-law. “Thank you for inviting me to attend,” she added.

“Nonsense! Lady Danbury is the one who sends out the invitations, and she is rather fond of you and your sister,” Daphne shrugged, brushing her off. “I’m just glad to have another familiar face there.”

“Likewise,” Kate nodded. “Thank you for agreeing to take me with you, though.”

“Of course,” her sister-in-law smiled. “That way, we’ll be able to get to know each other better, won’t we?”

“Of course.”

Anthony glanced between them, furrowing his brow slightly, that little crease between his eyebrows deepening slightly. “I must admit, I am a little worried at the thought of the two of you spending an extended amount of time together,” he remarked, his lips twitching slightly.

Daphne laughed, obviously amused while Kate cackled.

“Not to worry, brother, I shall bring your wife back in one piece,” she declared with a wink.

“Well, forgive me, sister, if I don’t trust you on it,” he retorted.

Kate snorted. “Do not fret, Anthony,” she said sweetly, patting his arm lightly. “We shall both act appropriately, as all married women do.”

Anthony scoffed, “appropriate. You. I’ll believe it when I see it, you menace,” he muttered, rolling his eyes.

She grinned wickedly, “ah, but that’s why you won’t see it, husband,” she muttered sweetly.

“All right, all right, you two,” Daphne cleared her throat. “I believe that’s enough innuendos; he is my brother after all. Unfortunately.”

Kate chuckled. Anthony scowled.

“You know, I’m not sure I like your friendship with my wife, Daff,” he glared.

“Is that so?” Daphne raised an eyebrow. “I can say the same about yourself and my husband, brother,” she added, her tone too sweet to be genuine. Kate had to admit, she was enjoying this bit of sibling rivalry. Anthony just grunted. Daphne clapped her hands together. “Well, we should be going, Kate. My carriage is waiting for us,” she announced.

“Of course,” she smiled.

Anthony nodded, “I shall escort you, then head off myself.”

The three of them made their way out, Kate’s arm looped through Anthony’s while Daphne walked next to her, prattling on quietly about her new baby and what her husband, Simon, the Duke of Hastings, was doing at their Clyvedon estate, dealing with some tenant issues.

***

The carriage ride had been pleasant, Daphne and Kate both chatting the entire time, Daphne regaling her with stories of their family, about Anthony, and the others, too, about herself and her husband and their daughter, Amelia.

Soon, they arrived at Danbury house, the home of the dowager Lady Danbury, a footman announcing their arrival before a butler led them inside, and Kate could see Daphne practically brimming with excitement, the other woman practically bouncing.

She chuckled at Kate’s confused look, “don’t get me wrong, I adore my daughter and love spending every waking moment with her, but I miss my freedom a little, too. Being out in society. Lady Danbury’s soirees are absolutely delightful. Come,” she said, gesturing for Kate as the butler opened the doors.

Lady Danbury was there to greet them, a vision in burgundy, her hair flawless, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She beckoned for both of them to join her, and they did, Daphne beaming excitedly.

“Your Grace, Lady Bridgerton what a delight to have you here tonight,” she greeted them with a smile. “Welcome to my Den of Inequity,” she smirked. “Please, come,” she added, and began leading them further into the room, Daphne grabbing onto Kate, looping her arm around hers.

The room was lavish, beautifully decorated, with string music playing in the background, and tables throughout. Each table was occupied by a group of women, society ladies, drinking and laughing and playing card games. Kate’s brow furrowed briefly as she passed by them, especially when she heard her own name – the Young Lady Bridgerton – being whispered, but she ignored it, instead following along with Daphne and Lady Danbury.

Lady Danbury led them to a table occupied by three other women, whose faces immediately lit up upon seeing Daphne.

“Daphne!” they exclaimed, and exchanged quick greetings with her, hugging and exchanging pleasantries before their attention turned to Kate. Kate, who suddenly felt inadequate in front of these beautiful, extravagant women of the ton, wishing she’d worn more jewels, a fancier dress.

Lady Danbury cleared her throat, “ladies, may I introduce you to the newest member of our ranks. Kate, Viscountess Bridgerton,” she announced, gesturing at Kate, who forced a smile, exchanging a look with Daphne who flashed her a more encouraging smile in return. “Kate, these are Lady Trowbridge, Lucy Granville and Kitty Langham,” Lady Danbury added, introducing them.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” Kate said with a soft smile, and the three women nodded, smiling at her.

Daphne latched onto her once more, pulling her to two empty chairs with a “come, Kate,” that Kate couldn’t refuse.

“The rules of the game are simple,” Daphne explained as Lady Danbury took a seat herself, “each turn, all you have to do is place your token on the card you believe the dealer will turn over.”

“Now, ladies,” Lady Danbury drawled, “place your bets.”

They did as told, Kate taking a moment to look over the cards before placing her token on an ace of spades.

Kitty, the General’s wife, and a good friend of Daphne’s, offered her a drink, “takes away the sting of losing,” she explained with a smile.

Daphne giggled, “I doubt that is necessary, Kitty. My sister-in-law is quite competitive and she’s good at winning.”

“The Duchess is right,” Lady Danbury piped up. “Kate was the one who bet on this year’s Royal Ascot winner,” she explained with a smirk. “And, against her now-husband, the Viscount, too,” she added, an amused glint in her eyes.

Kate grinned.

“And she’s been collecting her winnings ever since their wedding night, I’m sure,” Lucy Granville added, earning a giggle from the other ladies.

“Of course. The Viscount has much to offer,” Lady Trowbridge added, and Kate stiffened slightly.

“And, how would you know?” Lucy quipped, glancing at the blonde, who merely smirked knowingly. Kate tried not to look at either of the women, in particular Lady Trowbridge, and instead took a swig of her drink, the alcohol burning her throat, but she didn’t care.

“Well, everyone is aware of the Viscount’s reputation,” Kitty chimed in, probably trying to ease the tension. “A Rake. I’m sure your sister-in-law understands, right Daphne? The Duke was quite the rake, himself, wasn’t he?” she added, taking a sip of her drink. “And, now he is a devoted husband and father.”

Daphne chuckled, “yes, he was. Reformed rakes really do make the best of husbands, don’t they, Kate?”

Kate smiled, though it was probably more of a grimace. “Indeed, they are,” she muttered, taking a sip of her own drink.

The dealer turned the cards over, and Kate grinned when she turned out to be right. She did like to win, after all.

“Again!” she exclaimed, laughing in delight, her desire to win outshining that small, jealous voice in the back of her head.

“My, my, Lady Bridgerton,” Kitty drawled, “it seems you are the star of the evening.”

“Well, I do enjoy a bit of competition,” she quipped, lips curving into a smirk.

Daphne snorted, “she does! She fits in quite nicely with us Bridgertons, you know. She was this year’s Pall Mall victor,” she said with a wink.

“Ah, the famous Bridgerton Pall Mall,” Kitty nodded. “The ton only hears of it, but the Bridgertons are known to be quite competitive.”

Kate nodded, “that they are. But, I happen to be quite competitive myself. And, besting one’s husband is the best win of all,” she said with a smirk.

“Oh! Were you engaged then? We all heard the engagement occurred at Aubrey Hall but didn’t know of the circumstances. Was marriage part of the terms of the game?”

“No, we got engaged after I sank my husband’s ball into the lake, but now that we are husband and wife victory in Pall Mall and all other things shall be that much sweeter,” she remarked, taking another sip of her drink.

The ladies gasped, obviously delighted by this small tidbit about what happened between them, and Kate couldn’t help but feel a small thrill.

“Yes,” Daphne beamed, “my brother has certainly found his match in Kate,” she gushed, sending Kate a wink.

Kate won the next round, too, this time placing her token on an eight of hearts.

But, the whispers and innuendos didn’t stop there, and soon Kate realized that other tables, too, whispered when they thought she couldn’t hear them. They whispered about her, about how she wasn’t Edwina, about Anthony, too, and his rakish exploits from before. An opera singer, an artist, a tailor, visits to brothels, and even a widow or two. And, later when Kate had won most of the games, she felt anything but a victor.

***

She’d bid goodnight to Daphne downstairs, and hoped that her husband was either not home or fast asleep, but alas he wasn’t. He was waiting for her, in their bedroom, lounging on the bed. She dismissed the maid, not wanting to deal with more questions. She would manage on her own.

She flashed him a tired smile in greeting, “good evening, Anthony.”

“Hello, wife,” he smirked. “Did you have a good evening? Enjoyed yourself?”

She hummed, “indeed I did. Did you?” She glanced at him as she slipped off her gloves, laying them on the table, then began taking off her jewelry, her earrings clattering against her other jewels. She reached to unclasp her necklace, but Anthony came to stand beside her, gently taking it from her hands and unclasping it himself before handing it to her.

“So, what do the ladies of the ton do without their men?” he wondered, obviously curious as he wordlessly unpinned the flower from her hair.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she quipped, smirking slightly, but it felt flat, like she wasn’t quite into it.

“Oh, I would,” he grinned as he helped her undo her updo, her curls falling down her shoulders. “Well?”

She chuckled, “ah, but then where would be the fun in these gatherings? Us married ladies gather to gossip about our husbands, among other things, and our husbands must not know,” she retorted.

“Kate…” he groaned.

“A secret is a secret, dear husband,” she reminded him with a smirk. Anthony merely huffed, pouting petulantly in response. “Oh, that is very becoming of you, Lord Bridgerton,” she added, rolling her eyes.

Anthony glared, “you are an absolute menace, did you know that?”

“So you’ve mentioned a few times,” she grumbled. She sighed as she looked back into the mirror, her mind going back to the gathering, to the events of the night, and in particular the whispers and innuendos.

Anthony noticed her stiffen, saw the sad look in her eyes, and tried catching her gaze in the mirror, but she couldn’t, couldn’t bear to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly, coming to stand behind her once more.

“Nothing,” she muttered with a forced smile. “All is well. I’m just tired, Anthony,” she told him, but unfortunately her husband could read her, and he knew something was wrong.

“Kate,” he drawled, “what happened?”

“Nothing, it’s just-” she stopped herself, her lip caught between her teeth. He raised an eyebrow, nudging her lightly to continue. “Nothing, truly. It is just that… well, you were the topic of quite a few conversations this evening, but it’s fine,” she told him, her words coming out in a rush, and she could feel her cheeks flush.

But Anthony knew what she meant almost immediately, his forehead creasing only briefly in confusion before he frowned, muttering a quiet “oh.”

“I told you, it is nothing for you to worry about, we should just get ready for bed,” she told him in a dismissive tone, trying to brush it off. But she should have known. Anthony Bridgerton was not one to let it go.

“Kate,” he said slowly, “are you jealous?”

“Of course not!” she snapped, maybe a little too harshly. “I’m not jealous, don’t be ridiculous,” she told him.

“Kate, you were aware of my reputation before we married. Wasn’t that the reason you objected to my courting your sister?”

She rolled her eyes, “of course. That is exactly the point. As I said, I’m not jealous. Truly,” she told him, but even as she said it, she was lying through her teeth. And Anthony knew that. They both knew it.

She tried to step aside, but he stopped her, his hands gripping her arms gently, though she continued to face the mirror.

“Kate, we both know that isn’t true,” he said softly, and she could feel his breath in her ear, but still she didn’t meet his gaze.

“Anthony,” she groaned, breathlessly.

“Kate,” he whispered into her ear, his teeth lightly grazing her skin before he turned her around, but still she wouldn’t meet his gaze. “Kate, what did they say? Tell me.” His tone was desperate, willing her to tell him, his fingers reaching to rest under her chin, forcing her to look up and meet his gaze. “Look at me, Kate,” he demanded, his tone pleading, and when she did, she saw his eyes burning with emotion, and she felt her resolve weaken.

“Nothing specific,” she whispered, “nothing to my face. But they kept talking. About you. Your… reputation,” she admitted, averting her gaze, and she heard him sigh heavily.

“Kate, you knew-” he started, his forehead creasing in frustration.

“They mentioned a woman you were once fond of. Sienna Rosso. An opera singer. It seems you have a type,” she muttered, reaching to cup his cheek gently.

“Had,” he mumbled.

She met his gaze once more. “Had?” she repeated.

He nodded, “had,” he said, his voice firm. He spun her around so her back was to him once more before he pressed his body against hers, his mouth next to her ear. “Now, I have a different type.” He smirked, “a beautiful, insufferable and competitive menace who drives me utterly insane with desire,” he said, breathlessly as he brushed his lips against her ear, nipping lightly on her earlobe, causing her to let out a small giggle. “I want you,” he muttered as he pressed a kiss to her jaw. And another. And another, trailing kisses along her jaw. “I desire you,” he whispered as he kissed along her neck. “All the time. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day,” he murmured against her skin as his lips brushed over her collarbone. “I- I need you,” he stuttered, and Kate’s heart skipped a beat. “I need you, Kate,” he repeated, his voice hoarse, and she shivered, as he removed his hands from her arms. “I.” Kiss. “Want.” Kiss. “You.” Another kiss. “Always.” He continued in this manner, peppering kisses all over her skin, his hands expertly unbuttoning her dress, letting it pool at her feet before he spun her around once more, so she was facing him this time.

“Anthony,” she muttered breathlessly as he cupped her cheeks, his fingers firm but gentle on her skin.

“Kate,” he breathed out. “Listen to me,” he urged, “and listen closely. Sienna is my past. Just like all those other women the ton whispers about. My past. But they do not matter. She does not matter. You matter, Kate. You are my present and my future. You are my always. I will always want you, Kate. You are the bane of my existence and the object of my desires,” he said, his voice hoarse, his dark brown eyes blazing, urging her to believe him. “All at once.”

Kate felt her breath knocked out of her, and she gasped quietly before reaching for him, her own arms winding around his neck, pulling him to her.

“Anthony,” she muttered against his lips, her nose bumping against his, their foreheads touching, “I need you.”

He picked her up effortlessly, his deft fingers already undoing the laces of her corset, and she wrapped her legs around his hips, felt him press against her thigh, hard. He needed her just as much. It was clear in his tone, in his eyes, in the way he kissed her, hungry and desperate, like a man drowning.

“I need you, too, Kate,” he whispered before capturing her lips with his own. “You have no idea how much.”

And Kate had to admit that a little jealousy had come in handy. Very handy. Especially as her husband gasped her name in pleasure.

#katexanthonyweek #katexanthonyweek2021 #kate sheffield x anthony bridgerton #Kate Sharma x Anthony Bridgerton #kathony #kanthony #bridgerton

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