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noc1818 · 3 days ago

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A Score to be Settled - Chrollo X Reader Fanfic

Hey everyone! I've had this idea for a Chrollo fic swirling around in my head for a while now, where Chrollo wrongs the reader, who's also from Meteor City, during their childhood. This event impacts them so deeply that they’re willing to go to any lengths to seek revenge and settle the score. This chapter is just the backstory leading up to the main plot. If you're interested in reading more, let me know—I’m really enjoying writing it and have a lot more I want to explore! Plus, it’s a fun project to help me get back into writing again. I truly appreciate any support!

Also, this is mostly unedited because I was too excited to share, so feel free to let me know if anything needs fixing!

A few warnings for this piece: Dark themes, death, angst, and intense struggles for survival.

Chapter One: The Debt

Meteor City - Residential Area, 1984

Digging through the scrap was a common occurrence in Meteor City. It was the only way to survive. It always astonished you that people would just throw out and dump some of this stuff without a second thought. Had they never had to scavenge for food or clothes? The idea of having a roof over your head and some form of food security felt like a distant daydream. But that was not your reality. Even at such a young age, the harsh truth of Meteor City was ingrained in your very being.

This had always been the case, at least since you could remember. Your first true memory was when you were five years old, hiding in a broken refrigerator with your little sister, Sumi, who was only two at the time, from some less-than-favorable characters searching the area. That was the reality for all the kids in Meteor City—except for Sumi. She was always a ray of light. Even in the darkest moments, she could spin a positive outlook, which, while uplifting, was sometimes a bit overwhelming.

Recently, she’d been going on and on about a group of kids, she’d met who performed shows for anyone willing to watch. Every day, she came back excited, telling you all about the latest show and its colorful cast of characters. You had promised her that one day you’d go with her to check out the performances. But the reality was that most of your days—hell, your entire childhood—had been spent scavenging and trying to make the best shelter you could for Sumi and yourself.

Still, if you were honest with yourself, your efforts were starting to pay off. You had gathered enough food and non-perishable goods to start a stockpile for the coming winter.

Not only had you been gathering food, but you had been saving Jenny, hoping to accumulate enough to get you and your sister out of the city. At thriteen years old, hidden in your makeshift shack and buried deep within an old metal tea kettle, you had quite a bit saved up. The reality was that it wasn’t much, but to a child with nothing, a hundred Jenny could change a life. Soon, you and Sumi would leave this scrap heap behind and start a real life. You’d be able to give her a solid foundation and a secure future.

As if on cue, scrambling down the narrow paths between the trash heaps, Sumi appeared. She ran toward you in her oversized pink sweater, patched and worn where the fabric had torn over time. She wore frayed blue shorts and dirty old sneakers. As she approached, you noticed her shoes were untied again and made a note to try to teach her how to tie them properly.

Upon seeing you, Sumi immediately called out, “Big Sis!”

Looking up, you gave her a warm smile and a wave. “Sumi, be careful running like that! You might fall!”

Hearing your call, she slowed down and made her way to your makeshift shelter. You had found a space between two scrap heaps, covered with metal sheets that mostly kept the rain out during downpours. You’d draped a cloth over the outside to help keep out the cold and block prying eyes from seeing inside.

Sumi walked over with a big smile, immediately hugging you tightly. “Big Sis, the show today was so cool! They were doing a musical.”

You hummed in acknowledgment of her excited ramblings. Your focus was more on her worn shoes and thinking how you might be able to get her a new pair. But Sumi bright, attentive eyes and her soft call of your name brought your attention back to the present.

“Y/N, are you listening?” she asked, tilting her head with a playful smile.

You nodded, ruffling her hair as you gave her your full attention. “Yes, I’m listening. Tell me all about the play. You said it was a musical, right?”

Sumi’s face lit up as she started rambling in detail about the play, the songs they sang, and the performances. It made you happy to know she had found something that made her so happy and allowed her to still be a kid.

Sumi’s gaze then shifted to the bread rations you’d found and set out for the two of you. She eagerly sat down on the dirt, ready to eat.

“Also, Big Sis, my friend from the play... Can she come over to eat sometime?” she asked, her brown eyes filled with hope.

Typically, you would say no. It was hard enough to feed just the two of you. But this was another kid—another kid from Meteor City—and she made your little sister happier than anyone else could. So, with a reluctant sigh, you nodded, saying, “Sure, but just her, okay?”

Sumi’s eyes widened, and she beamed. “Oh, good! She’ll be so excited when she gets back!”

That last part caught your attention—when she gets back. You wondered what Sumi meant by that, but rather than ask, you focused on the task at hand: getting something to eat. Hunger was often your main drive, having never truly been full your entire life. The two of you ate your bread and chatted the night away until it was time to sleep. You shared a torn-up mattress you’d found one day.

As your sister fell asleep the moment her head hit the pillow, you found yourself wide awake as always. The night was especially cold, even with the cloth covering the sides of your shelter. The cold air still billowed in, leaving you shivering to your core. Unable to sleep, you quietly got up and made your way outside.

Despite the chill, it was a beautiful night. The full moon illuminated the ruins of the city, casting a soft light on the heaps of metal scrap. The sky was clear—a rare sight since the smog usually made it nearly impossible to see the stars. But tonight, they shone bright and radiant, lighting up the darkness.

Little did you know, that on such a peaceful night, your life would change forever because of one mistake.

The sound of scrap being knocked over in the distance caught your attention. Despite your maturity for your age, your curiosity got the better of you. You crept toward the sound, the noise growing louder with each step. Expecting to find an adult out to cause trouble, you peeked cautiously around a corner. To your surprise, there stood a boy, slightly older than you.

He had his back to you, but you could make out his raven-like hair, which ended just above his ears. He wore a yellow-striped shirt and grey shorts, his sneakers as worn out as those of the other kids in the city. You also noticed his pale complexion. But it wasn’t just his appearance that caught your attention—it was the palpable anger radiating from him.

The boy was frantically searching every crevice in the piles of trash, looking for something—or perhaps someone. When a spot didn’t reveal what he was searching for, he would kick and throw things, sending the scrap tumbling down. But it wasn’t just his actions that struck you. There was an energy about him, an intense, almost suffocating wave of anger and despair that filled the air, making it feel heavy and thick with emotion.

You stood frozen, unsure of what to do. You had never encountered such a crushing presence before. The weight of his emotions was almost too much to bear. It took him a while before he realized someone else was there.

He turned toward you, taking a moment to process your presence. Even at his young age, it seemed like he was studying you, trying to figure out who you were. His expression was unreadable, but your silence seemed to provoke him. Without a hint of fear or caution, he started walking toward you. You weren’t surprised—after all, what could a bone-thin girl like you possibly do to a boy older than you?

As he drew closer, you noticed something you would never forget—his eyes. Steely grey, cold as steel, eyes that no child should have. They held a depth of pain, rage, and fear. It was as though his gaze could pierce through you, reading your every thought. The emptiness in them was unsettling, yet beneath that emptiness was an ocean of raw, unspoken emotion.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. His gaze remained locked on yours, unflinching. Then, in a voice that matched the indifference in his expression, he asked, “Why are you out here?”

You hesitated for a moment, processing his question. Finally, you answered in your quiet, almost inaudible voice, “I couldn’t sleep... it’s freezing.”

He listened, his eyes still fixed on yours, and after a brief pause, he nodded slightly. His tone remained flat, as if unaffected by the cold, the silence, or even the raw emotions swirling between you. “I suppose it is quite cold tonight,” he said.

You ask him the same question in return. “Why are you out here?”

Without hesitation, he responds, “I’m looking for someone.”

You raise an eyebrow, puzzled. Why would he be out here, so late, searching for someone? And what’s more, he’s dressed lightly, yet he doesn’t seem bothered by the cold. Curiosity laces your voice as you ask, “Wouldn’t it be smarter to search in the morning, when there’s daylight?”

A flicker of annoyance crosses his face, as if that option simply isn’t available. “Not possible. I’ll find her tonight.”

Normally, you would’ve dismissed him, turned away, and continued with your own business. But he’s another Metor City kid, and something in the back of your mind nags at you. He’s not dressed appropriately for the cold, and if he stays out here like this, he’ll get sick. You remember finding a man’s jacket a while back, one that was too big for you or your sister, and you think maybe it’s time to put it to good use.

“You’re going to catch a cold out here like that,” you say, a note of concern in your voice. “Come with me for two seconds, and I can give you a spare coat we have.”

Your tone is free of malice, just genuine care, and that catches his attention. He gives you a curious glance, eyebrows furrowing as if trying to decipher your intentions. Every kid in this city knows that nothing comes without a price, that nothing is truly free. So when he speaks, his words are cautious.

“I don’t need the jacket.”

His dismissal stings more than you expect, and you sigh, visibly irked. You take a few steps toward him, frustration settling into your voice. “Just take it. We don’t need it.”

At the word “we,” he raises an eyebrow. He’s perceptive, you realize. He takes a step closer, and you suddenly feel the suspicion radiating off him. “You have others with you?”

The question catches you off guard for a moment, but you recover quickly. “Yeah, my little sister, Sum.”

He pauses, his face unreadable, before asking, “You’re Sumi’s older sister? You must be Y/N, then.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. How does he know your name? You raise an eyebrow, and he chuckles, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Ah, my apologies. Sumi talks about you a lot. She’s always at shows with me and the others.”

That explains it. He must be one of the performer kids Sumi has befriended. You smile, relieved to understand the connection. “Oh! You’re one of Sumi’s friends. She never stops talking about all the shows you all put on. I hear about it all the time.”

“I’m glad she enjoys them so much,” he says with a chuckle. “My name’s Chrollo, by the way. It’s nice to officially meet you, Y/N.”

You extend a hand to him, offering a handshake. “Nice to meet you too, Chrollo.”

As you both shake hands, the conversation continues, and you press him once more to take the spare jacket. He doesn’t seem to trust easily, but the fact that you’re Sumi’s sister seems to put him at ease enough to accept the offer. You can’t let one of your sister’s friends freeze, after all. In your world, you cherish the small acts of kindness, especially when life is so unforgiving.

When you lead Chrollo into your home, you notice his gaze lingering on Sumi, who’s still fast asleep despite the chilly draft in the room.

“She sleeps like a rock,” you say with a smile, reassuring him. “Don’t worry, we won’t wake her up.”

Chrollo raises an eyebrow, then shifts his attention back to you. “Really? She always seems so happy, so it’s not surprising.”

“She’s always been that way,” you reply, a fondness in your tone. “She’s able to find the bright side of things. I’ve always admired her for that.”

“That’s an admirable trait, but a bit naïve,” he remarks, his eyes scanning the room. “And you, Y/N? Which side do you find yourself on?” His intense gaze meets yours, as if he already knows the answer, as if he’s searching for something more.

You hesitate before answering, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. “While I’d like to see things in the best light, it’s not always something I can afford to do. Life is tough, especially in the city. I’m sure you know that. I guess, if anything, I’m just realistic.”

Your words hang in the air, and you meet his gaze. Life hasn’t been kind, not forgiving, and you’ve learned to take things as they are—even if that means accepting a certain darkness. It’s how you survive. It’s how you cope.

Chrollo watches you as you pull the coat from the cooler you’ve repurposed as a storage bin. You turn to hand it to him, but before you can react, he’s right there, standing so close that you nearly jump in surprise.

“Oh, my—” you start, startled. “You surprised me, Chrollo.”

He chuckles lightly. “My apologies. It wasn’t intentional.” He accepts the jacket with a graceful nod. “Thank you for this.”

You watch him pull the coat on. It’s a bit oversized now, but in a few years, it will fit him perfectly. The jacket is a unique shade of royal purple, with white fur lining the neck and sleeve ends—definitely a one-of-a-kind piece.

“Well, Y/N, I have a search to continue,” he says, turning to leave. But before he pulls the sheet up to shield himself from the cold, he pauses and looks back at you.

“I’m also a realist,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative. “But there’s something so lovely about dreaming, isn’t there? I look at this life from both spectrums. Sometimes, I even think those dreams we chase so desperately can become our reality—if we push hard enough. Just something to think about.”

With those final words, he leaves before you can respond, disappearing into the night.

You stand there, staring at the door as his words linger in your mind. At first, you feel a sharp irritation. He didn’t ask for your opinion, so why did he offer unsolicited advice? And as for his belief that dreams could be turned into reality with enough force—that seemed utterly delusional, especially for kids like you, or anyone from Metor City. Hell, you’d be lucky just to make it to eighteen.

But something about what he said sticks with you, curling into your thoughts like a stubborn seed. You don’t dwell on it for long. You curl up next to Sumi, trying to shake the thoughts away, and drift into sleep. But as you do, you can’t help but wonder… what if, just for once, he was right?

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of Sumi’s sobs, her distress pulling you from sleep. Instantly, you pull her into a tight hug.

“Shh, Sumi, it’s okay. Tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt? What happened?” Your voice is steady and calm, a skill you’ve mastered over the years, both as her big sister and in moments of chaos. You’ve always had a knack for calming people in hysteria, and Sumi, in her younger days, gave you plenty of practice.

After a few minutes of reassurance and gentle prodding, she starts to calm down. She looks up at you, her eyes wide and teary, her lip trembling.

“Big sis, it’s… it’s all gone. Our food… our money… it’s all gone,” she says, before breaking into fresh sobs.

At those words, your heart drops. What does she mean? Gone? Your stomach twists with dread.

You pull away from Sumi for a moment, moving quickly to the cooler. There’s no way it could be empty. But when you lift the lid, your breath catches. The cooler is completely bare. All the food and supplies you had gathered for months—some even for years—are gone.

Frantically, you move the cooler aside, only to reveal an empty hole beneath it. The kettle where you kept all your jenny, your coins, your savings—also gone. There’s nothing left.

Panic rises in your chest. How could this happen? Who could have taken everything? Why didn’t you hear anything during the night? Your mind races with a hundred questions, each more frantic than the last. Beneath it all, though, a seething anger begins to bubble. How could anyone do this to kids who had nothing?

But then, Sumi’s sobs break through your clouded thoughts, pulling you back to reality. This is where you need to be the bigger sister. You need to calm her down, to give her the reassurance she needs, even if it means making false promises in the moment.

You pull her into another tight hug, patting her head in an attempt to soothe her. “Shh, Sumi. It’s going to be okay. I’ll figure it out. We’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

Your words, however, don’t seem to help. Sumi’s crying only intensifies, her distress deepening.

“No, Y/N, it’s not! It’s almost winter! I may be younger, but I’m not dumb. I knew it took you almost all year to gather what we had, and that was mostly lucky finds. This is my fault!” she says through ragged sobs, her nose sniffling.

“It’s no one’s fault, Sumi,” you reply, your own voice breaking slightly. You can feel the tears welling in your eyes, but you fight them back, continuing to hold it together. “We’re going to be okay. I’ll figure it out. Everything will be fine, I promise.”

But Sumi, seeing the tears in your eyes, crumbles further. “Big sis, you don’t understand. This is my fault! It was my friends at the play. They took our stuff. I shouldn’t have told Big Sis Sarasa where we live. She must’ve told the others. But I don’t know how—she’s been missing for a few days now!”

Your heart sinks, piecing together exactly what’s happened. It was Chrollo. He and his friends took everything. You allowed yourself to be blinded by the fact that he was another kid, someone you thought you could help. But instead, he took advantage of your kindness.

It takes everything in you to hide your shock. You can’t let Sumi see your own pain and disappointment. Instead, you swallow your anger and fear, and lie to her, thinking that protecting her from the truth is what’s best.

“Sumi,” you say, forcing a smile, trying to sound reassuring, “I bet your friends are just borrowing some food from us. Nothing to worry about. They’ll bring it back soon, okay?”

You can see the doubt in her eyes, but there’s a glimmer of hope there too. That spark—the same one she’s always had—begins to flicker. “Prove it, big sis. How do you know?”

You take a deep breath, hoping the lie doesn’t show in your eyes. “I just know, Sumi. I’ll make sure everything’s okay. I promise.”

Even though she doesn’t fully believe you, the fragile hope in her eyes is enough to make you cling to your own false reassurance. For her sake, you need to keep it together, even if it’s falling apart inside.

After Sumi had calmed down enough to be let go, you stood up, needing some space to think and to get some fresh air. You reached for the jacket you had thrown haphazardly over yourself the night before to stay warm, and as you put it on, a small white note fell from the pocket. Sumi, too absorbed in her tears, hadn’t noticed it before.

You hesitated for a moment, but your curiosity got the best of you. You unfolded the note, already knowing who it was from. It could only be one person—Chrollo.

The note read:

Y/N,I am sure you are angry, and rightfully so. It was nothing personal, of course—just my family needed it more than yours. Take this as a lesson and grow stronger from it. Never trust a stranger, no matter what they look like.Best of luck, and do take care of Sumi. Thanks again for your generosity.

As you read the words over again, the initial shock wore off, and a seething anger filled you. That bastard had taken everything—everything—because he could. And now he had the audacity to call it a lesson.

Your blood boiled. You would find him. You would make him pay.

In the midst of your fury, you didn’t notice Sumi, still sitting on the floor, glance over your shoulder and read the note with wide, curious eyes.

“Big sis? What does it say?” she asked, her head tilted, voice uncertain.

You froze for a moment, her question catching you off guard. Then, your mind raced. You knew Sumi couldn’t read—something that, under normal circumstances, would be a problem. But today, it was a relief. More than anything, you wanted to preserve that spark of joy in her eyes, to keep her from losing that innocence and hope.

With a forced smile, you turned to face her and lied through your teeth.

“Oh, it’s just a letter from your friends. They’re gathering more food and are going to bring it to share with us.”

At your words, Sumi’s face brightened. The sadness left her eyes, and joy returned to her expression as she beamed up at you. “Really, big sis? That’s great!”

You nodded, offering her a reassuring smile, though inside, your mind was still spinning with your plan for revenge. Sumi spent the rest of the day telling you about the shows and how amazing they were. You listened, but your thoughts were elsewhere, planning the next steps, knowing full well that your reality wasn’t one that relied on hopes and miracles. You would have to be ruthless to survive in this world—and you would.

Meteor City – Residential Area, 1995

Years later, you found yourself standing once again among the scraps of Meteor City, holding a small yellow daffodil. You gazed down at the modest grave, an unreadable expression on your face. Deep inside, though, the wound was still open and raw. The stone atop the grave was crudely carved with the name Sumi. Her grave was one of the few places in this wasteland where life seemed to thrive—a small patch of grass and flowers growing amidst the decay.

You offered a faint, sad smile, thinking that even in death, Sumi brought hope and life wherever she was.

Your mind wandered back to that brutal winter in 1984 when you lost your little sister. After the Phantom Troupe stole everything—your food, your money—you were left with nothing. For months, you scavenged, but it was never enough. The freezing nights and lack of food took a toll, and Sumi grew terribly ill. You searched high and low for medicine, anything that could save her, but the world wouldn’t help two poor kids from Meteor City. Every time you tried, you were chased away or kicked out.

As the weeks dragged on, one night Sumi’s fever spiked too high. You held her until she fell asleep, but then you heard it—those final, shallow breaths. That’s when you knew. Your sister was gone.

Now, standing over her grave, you reached into the satchel you carried and pulled out three items: a ticket to a masquerade ball, a key, and new identification papers. These were the tools you’d carefully acquired through a contact to forge a new identity—a whole new life in Yorknew City. They were your tickets to escape Meteor City, to avenge Sumi, and to strike at the heart of the Phantom Troupe. You couldn’t let them know who you truly were.

You had devoted your life to this, to rebuilding yourself and taking them down—especially Chrollo. He was the one responsible for her death. It was all for greed. But that was going to end now.

Looking once more at Sumi’s grave, you made a vow, your voice firm and steady.

“Sumi, I swear I’ll come back once the debt’s been repaid. After all, we’ve got a score to settle.”

With that, you turned away and walked towards the tinted car that waited to take you to the next step in your journey. The road ahead was long, but it was one you would walk with purpose. Chrollo Lucilfer—the leader of the Phantom Troupe—had no idea what was coming for him. You would make him pay, and you would not stop until you did.

#chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #hxh chrollo #phantom troupe

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skyfallscotland · 1 day ago

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Things I loved about Onyx Storm, in no particular order 🖤⚡️

This is an addendum to my overall review post—there’s also one about the things that I didn’t like here.

I do love ride or die riorgail, even if their characters didn't feel quite right to me (dare I say fanon-esque?). In any case, threatening people for the one they love? 10/10, would eat it up every time.

The dragons being every rider's first love? It won't be a surprise to you if you've read BRV but I adore this take so much.

She was the first to choose me, to elevate me above all others, the first to see every ugly side of me and accept it all, and every single person in this fucking canyon will die before they remove a single one of her scales.

Ok then!

And Violet?

“You see, that’s my little one.”

I'm crying!!

Tairn and Andarna? Like that's her father!!!

“Do not go any deeper than your claws!” Tairn lectures, his tail nearly taking out a tree when he pivots to watch her go. “I swear, if you get in over your head, I’ll let you drown.”

Their every interaction made me:

Except for this one, which had me tearing up!

Tairn cranes his neck forward and growls. “You will not raise your voice to her.” Andarna turns her head and narrows her eyes at Tairn. “Do not ruin this for me.” Hurt stabs through the bond and Tairn recoils, his head drawing back to cover Ridoc and me.

Then there's Sgaeyl—mother!!!

“You are an inconvenience for which there is no adequate measurement.”

She wasn't talking to Xaden all book (v upsetti spaghetti) but she still would defend him with her life because she's mum!!

“Tell her the truth. He loathes her,” Tairn suggests. “As does Sgaeyl. The life-giver is lucky she wasn’t scorched this morning, though I do believe Sgaeyl is still contemplating her options.”

Speaking of mothers, I both hated and loved the Hedotis chapters. I really enjoyed them, I thought they were fun, Violet channeled the twin she doesn't know she has (lol iykyk) which was in my opinion out of character for her (threatening someone's kids???) but despite the lack of character growth to get there, I still really enjoyed this sequence for all its emotional aspects.

“How does she”—he points to the door—“ deserve my ten minutes when she fed me chocolate cake on my tenth birthday and vanished later that night? I am the fulfillment of a contract for her. Nothing more. I don’t give a shit how she looks at me, or whatever bullshit she undoubtedly spewed at you. The only reason we’re in her house is because she’s married to one of the triumvirate, and I have no problem using that to get what we need.”

I don't know how chocolate cake is still his favourite food because that would ruin me. (It just did).

Violet's protectiveness in this sequence was everything though! 😭 Fuck you, Talia!

“What I need is for Xaden to be all right. If that means setting this house on fire and leaving without accomplishing anything else on this isle, then I’ll hand him a torch.”

Onto other characters, Ridoc is still hilarious and honestly his humour and one-liners saved my reading experience from being downright terrible, same with Cam—sorry CamLAEN! (lol)

Once again, I really thought she might kill Ridoc for a second there (this is very much a flipped Iron Flame re-write in some aspects lmao) but thankfully for everyone involved, she didn't.

"Violet was out of control. She kicked a queen’s ass and poisoned Xaden’s mom and all three Hedotic heads of state, but secured us an army.”

“Oh, and just so we’re clear, that strike up there wasn’t”—he gestures between us—“ you know. Us.” He flinches. “I mean, it was us because I pissed her off, but it wasn’t us… us, if you know what I’m saying.”

Confirmation everyone knows about the lightning storms.

The representation—as someone living through Australian summer, I really appreciated that POTS was represented more thoroughly in the hot climate of the Isles, though it was still never actually touched on (I think there could have been a line in there explaining why it was relevant/what was happening in her body and that she wasn't just tired) but still, happy to see it there and (don't take this the wrong way but) maybe to see Violet struggle more, just a little.

Then there's Dain.

Dain! My boy, my baby. He was 110% done with everyone and I'm so here for it. He was going through it!

“Was that a compliment? What the fuck is going on?” Dain asks, his gaze flying to mine. “Did you give him something?”

Dain puts both hands up, palms outward at his chest. “How in all that’s holy am I to blame for this?”

“Love wasting my time,” Dain mutters, then shoves the small booklet I recognize as the language compendium for Unnbriel into the chest pocket of his flight jacket.

Aaric sighs from beside Xaden, then proceeds to speak like he was freaking born here. Dain looks ready to murder him.

I also got my wish for him and Sloane, which was unexpected but appreciated! (I created tags for not one but TWO of the ships in this book and I am so stoked about it!). It also makes Rebecca's TS song choice of The Prophecy for him make a lot more sense.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Xaden calls up at Dain as he dismounts, but my focus firmly locks over Brennan’s shoulder. “Following her ass,” Dain replies.

“I don’t coddle first-years anymore, so train. Your. Signet.” “Asshole,” she whispers, and the flush in her cheeks deepens.

I love them, your honour. I would read whole books about them.

Speaking of—

“What the fuck are we going to do with that thing for the rest of the trip?” “Her name is Broccoli, not that,” he mutters.

These two (three?) are iconic and I want more of them. I want Mira recovering from her injuries and Drake coming to check on her and dumping a kitten on her chest, and Mira pretending she doesn't like Broccoli but secretly finding her comforting and letting her stay (and him, too, because it's love).

Professor Riorson. God this was ridiculous and I hated it, but it made me laugh.

The normally sweet drink tastes bitter in my throat.

Absolutely fan service but I'm positive it made us all groan aloud at the same time, which was amusing.

“Agreed,” Ridoc says. “And it’s always the same fight.” He lifts his hand to his chest. “I’ll trust you if you stop keeping secrets!” He drops the hand and scowls. “It’s my secretive nature that attracted you, and why can’t you just stay out of harm’s way for five fucking minutes?”

“You could hyphenate,” Garrick suggests. “Or combine? Riorgail? Sorrenson?”

Also, fan service, which, did I like it? No, but I laughed at (because otherwise I'd cry so).

And then there were lines like this, that made me absolutely tear up and hit me in the feels:

But something is broken between here”—he taps the side of his head—“ and here”—he repeats the motion above his heart. “And I can’t control it.

He cups the back of my neck and pulls me within inches of his face—close enough to kiss. “I could reach the rank of Maven, lead armies of dark wielders against everyone we care for, and watch every vein in my body turn red as I channel all the power in the Continent, and I would still love you. What I did doesn’t change that. I’m not sure anything can.”

So yeah, even if my overall experience was messy and chaotic, and perhaps not the best it could be, I did still love parts of it and find some of it enjoyable. I'm trying to change my mindset for a re-read, but I think it's best if I have some space before I try again.

In the meantime, what was your favourite thing? ��

#onyx storm spoilers

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narrans · 2 days ago

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A Small and Tall Collection | Chapter Fourteen | Rules and Realizations

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Chapter Fourteen | Rules and Realizations

“Rules?” Soren didn’t realize he’d echoed the word until he saw Ashlynn nodding, hand resting at something at her side that looked like a thumbtack. She looked nervous. Unsure. There was a general unease about the air around the small woman that made Soren almost feel wary, but something more. A desire. A simple goal of showing to this person he could be trusted. Perhaps it was his nature, or perhaps it was some kind of affect this tiny woman had over him.

Whatever the case, he continued to listen as Ashlynn spoke. She was on her feet now, and it was obvious she was just as nervous as he was.

“Yes, rules.” Her voice was shaking. “Staying for dinner. Being seen. Any interaction. There are rules you need to follow. All of you. If you can’t agree to those, then I’m gone. Get it?”

He as absolutely entranced. What kind of courage did it take for her to come up and speak to someone so much bigger than her? And what drove her from the walls out to speak with him? Was she in danger? She seemed like she could handle herself well enough. Or was it something else? Something he couldn’t understand or hadn’t noticed because of her silence?

He looked into her blue gray eyes and sensed the gravity of her request.

“Got it,” he breathed. His fascination kept him silent as he watched her fidget, eyes flicking back and forth as she gathered her thoughts.

Even though Ashlynn suspected Soren would be agreeable, the words were still hard to speak. Thoughts swirled in her head like a whirling tornado. Everything she’d ever been taught fought to constrain her voice. Every lesson engraved in her mind compelled her to stop.

Solitude drove many in desperation. She never thought she’d be broken enough to accept it, but here she was – a Borrower talking to a human.

Ashlynn had thought long and hard about all of the things that she wanted to say and the rules she would need to set in place to ensure her safety. There were so many, but there were a few that needed to be set in stone before she agreed to interact with Soren and his sons.

“Okay, rule one – no prying questions. I’ll answer some about me, but if I say no, it means no. Drop it. Leave it alone. Sharing too much is dangerous for me. Two, when I say it’s time to go, I have to go. No persuading. No keeping. No caging. No boxes either.” Ashlynn watched Soren absorbing her words like a sponge, making no effort to inquire further or counter any of her requests.

Is it really going to be this easy?

“T-three, no touching. No grabbing, pinching, poking, prodding, stroking, or petting. Ask before you do any of that. If I say it’s okay, then… go slow. Four, don’t make things so… obvious… that you’re helping or leaving things out. It makes things easy. I don’t want easy. I’m not a pet and just because I’m small doesn’t mean I’m weak.

“Finally, no telling others about me. No stories. No hints. No drawings. Nothing that points to my existence. Do you accept?” Ashlynn wasn’t sure why she was holding her breath. Everything seemed reasonable enough, but what would Soren think?

As for the human, each request only dared him to ask more questions about their wall dwelling house guest. It was the first and obviously most important of the five rules that Ashlynn set in place. Rather than question all of them, Soren decided that asking only one, clarifying question would benefit himself and his brothers.

“Yes, of course; but I do have one question if you don’t mind.” Soren’s soft tone lessened the blow of the question, but even that wasn’t enough to ward off Ashlynn’s obvious hesitance. Soren watched her fidget subtly, obviously uneasy about the question poised to strike.

She backed slightly toward the electrical cover as she replied, “Okay? What is it?”

“What counts as a ‘prying question?’ Your name, for example, could be considered prying. What food you like or don’t like could count as prying too. Also, Rey and Dorian are curious by nature. They might not know the difference or practice discretion,” pointed out Soren. By the way the infinitesimal eyes flicked down and side to side, it was obvious Ashlynn hadn’t considered these things. “Could… I suggest a compromise? We can ask, but you don’t have to answer. Just tell us if we’re out of line and, like you said, we’ll drop it. As long as you don’t take offence to that suggestion.”

Soren hoped Ashlynn wouldn’t go sprinting back into the walls at his suggestion. Being friends was his goal, if he had to give it a name. The human watched, breath baited, as Ashlynn contemplated the request.

Every time you show up, I have more questions – questions you probably don’t want to answer. Who are you? What are you? Where do you come from? Are there more like you out there? And do they need help? Why are you trusting us now when you weren’t before? Did something happen? Is there something you need? Want? Are you telling me we can’t ask questions because you’re protecting someone? Who are you protecting?

Or are you just as curious about us as we are of you?

Soren would never dare voice these questions now or ever. Ashlynn seemed too timid, too careful, to dare answer even one of these questions. It would likely drive her away, and he didn’t want that. By no stretch of the imagination did he want to keep her here against her will, but the world was a dangerous place and, for better or worse, that protective instinct he inherited from his father and that kept his brothers safe now stretched out its hand to protect her.

The moment felt stationary before, after several skeptical looks, Ashlynn nodded a single time. “You… you can ask, but I won’t answer.”

Soren felt a smile spread across his face and the breath contained in his lungs vacated his body. He wasn’t sure how things would continue, but now he knew how they were going to start.

“So… do we shake to seal the deal? Or, do I start making dinner for four?” It was a relatively poor ploy to move things forward, but it worked. Ashlynn’s smile and obviously relieved expression told Soren everything he needed to know.

“Um… dinner. What… what’s the significance of shaking? Like… this?” Ashlynn shivered as she watched Soren’s reaction, which he was barely able to suppress as his amusement was trying to get the better of him.

“Um…” Soren cleared his throat to hide the laugh tickling the back of his throat. “No. Not exactly. It’s a handshake. You grab the other person’s hand who you want to make a deal with and that shows you both agree to the terms and stuff.” He only heard a soft “oh” in response to his explanation.

What kind of life do you live, Ashlynn? Absolutely fascinating…

“So… um… is there… anything I can do to help? Or… erm…” Ashlynn glanced around the countertops that exaggerated her size difference to Soren as she bounced her arms against her sides. It was obviously a bit of a nervous quirk, but Soren tucked that away for later.

“Let’s see,” he said absentmindedly as he thought about what Ashlynn could actually do to assist. “We’re having pizza tonight. Have you ever had it?” Ashlynn gave a vague shrug. “It’s basically cheese, bread, and tomato sauce with different toppings. Oh! I have something you can do. You have a knife, right? You could go ahead and start opening the bags and such. If you wanted to that is.”

Ashlynn, inundated with a lot of information all at once, took a second to process everything after nodding to Soren that she could fulfill the task he offered her before nodding. With little to pushback, Soren had agreed to her terms. Just like that, she was being integrated into a family activity – making dinner. The ease that Soren spoke to her and gave her a task made her head spin. She would never have been able to figure out something like this so fast.

Was it because Soren had Dorian and Rey?

Ashlynn didn’t have time to ponder because, moments after his suggestion, Soren was setting a mountain of plastic bags of varying sizes and colors onto the countertop adjacent to her. Ashlynn set her bag down by the electrical cover, keeping her hook and blade by her side, begore making the hop, skip, and jump across the stove where Soren placed the bags. Some of the food items were ones she recognized while others were completely foreign to her.

It didn’t necessarily matter. Ashlynn had tasted Soren’s food before and wasn’t about to start questioning him now. She pulled the razor blade from its sheath and began slicing. The Borrower was easily dwarfed by the bags, and she shuddered as her imagination played the stories she heard of humans trapping Borrowers in zippable bags and plastic containers.

Soren wouldn’t do that. Dorian and Rey wouldn’t do that. They’re good. Ashlynn wasn’t sure if her mantra was meant to reassure her and her decision to interact with these three humans or if she was tamping down an instinct that had picked up on potential malicious intent. Whatever the case, she continued to work.

The blade sliced easily up the shiny plastic. Twice Ashlynn had to set her makeshift razor sword to wrestle with the seams. She was so engrossed with her work that she didn’t notice until she looked up that Soren had been watching her. It sent a shiver down her spine.

“What?” she asked. Soren, who had glanced over and suddenly found himself staring, snapped out of the trance he was in after picking up on the defensiveness in her voice.

“Nothing, sorry,” he apologized. The look in her eye screamed disbelief. “It’s just interesting… differences and similarities. Your… sword? Dagger? What’s it made of?” Soren caught the tiny glint of light from the blade as Ashlynn examined it.

“It’s… just a knife. Well… for me it’s just a knife. It used to be part of a razor blade, but I bor-… er… reused the blade since it was still sharp,” explained Ashlynn. She had stopped herself from saying “borrowed” and hoped Soren didn’t notice or wouldn’t say anything. The Borrower feared he would put part of that name together and stumble across the correct term for people like her. It might’ve been a stretch, but she didn’t want to take any more risk than what she was already chancing.

“Ah… I see. And the end? You just had to flatten it and wrapped part of an… eraser? Very ingenuitive.” Soren’s complement made Ashlynn’s cheeks burn, but thankfully something or, rather, two someones pulled focus from her.

“Soren! Soren! I think we’ve got it. It’s going to be great for little m…” Soren and Ashlynn both glanced toward the living room as the sound of two pairs of footsteps thundered around the corner. Rey and Dorian were obviously racing to get to Soren first to reveal whatever they had been inventing when they stopped dead in their tracks. Both of the boys spotted Ashlynn on the counter in an instant.

Ashlynn, out of pure instinct, had backed away several large steps and crouched, hand clutching her razor blade dagger and legs primed to sprint back for the wall at a moment’s notice. The fear in her throat took a moment to swallow and she sucked in slow, deep breaths as silently as she could. The Borrower began debating whether this whole “interact with the boys” was a bad idea or not when Soren stepped forward, hands raised as if taming two wild beasts at the same time.

“Hey guys,” Soren stated clearly and calmly. “We have a guest over for dinner, so we’re going to be on our best behavior, yeah?” The boys’ faces, filled with wonder and delight, both bobbed up and down as they nodded in response to Soren’s statement.

Rey was the first to speak, giving a little wave and an optimistic smile as he said, “Hey there, little miss. Are you really staying for dinner?”

Even though Ashlynn had already committed to interacting with the human trio, getting the single word, “Yes,” out to the boys was much harder than setting the rules with Soren. The kids glanced at one another, obviously struggling to hide their excitement, before looking back to Soren.

“Does… so… does that mean she’s helping you?” Rey asked.

“Yep, and she’s doing an excellent job,” stated Soren, sneaking in a wink in Ashlynn’s direction that the boys didn’t notice. Their excitement was too distracting, just like how that wink was for Ashlynn.

“Can we help? I wanna use the smack chopper!” Dorian cheered.

Rey’s face immediately fell as he grumbled, “Hey! Not fair! I wanted to use the smack chopper.”

Smack chopper? What on earth is that? I really don’t like the sound of that, Ashlynn thought as she felt her body tense. Soren must’ve noticed, because he cleared his throat and pulled a few chopping boards out from beside the sink on his right.

“Well, at the moment I think it would be better if we let me do the cutting since we’re trying to get everything going quickly. You said you’re both hungry, right?” Soren’s sense of diplomacy and redirection was on point, and in minutes the boys were at the table helping cut and separate all of the “toppings” for the pizza. Ashlynn felt her body slowly relax as she continued her task.

At some point, Soren divvied out this squishy pale tan ball called dough and showed Ashlynn and the two boys how to knead the dough. Something about gluten and stretching out the strands. Ashlynn didn’t know. It was above her head. All she knew was that the rhythm of mixing the dough was soothing and, in a fleeting memory, she remembered seeing her mother doing something similar in their kitchen when she was very young.

“Alll-right. Now, we need to let it rise, so we’re going to put it into the sink for a bit, clean up what we can, and wait before putting everything together,” informed Soren as he gathered the balls of dough together. While Ashlynn couldn’t help clean off the table, she did snag a fragment of paper towel, attached it to the gadget Rey made for him, and began wiping down the countertop where she was standing.

It was the least she could do.

Once done, however, she watched as the boys bounded into their seats at the table, which was quite a distance away. Soren was close behind, but paused and looked back at her as he nodded at the table.

“Care to join us? We were going to play a quick game of Pictionary while we waited.” Ashlynn glanced from Soren back to the eagerly awaiting boys at the table.

“Um… sure,” she stated hesitantly. “But… I… I don’t know how to play.”

“Don’t worry. It’s very easy,” reassured Soren.

“You can be on my team!” Rey suggested, his pale blue eyes sparkling in the light. Dorian shot him an envious look and echoed his brother’s offer.

“Or mine! You can choose to be on my team.” The boys’ banter back and forth reminded Ashlynn of how she and her…. She felt her heart sink, a hollow spot in her chest as her situation felt thrust back into her face. It felt like so long ago…

Mere feet away, Soren noticed Ashlynn’s features shift from amused to crestfallen in a matter of moments. Is she sad because she doesn’t know the game? Maybe she doesn’t want to disappoint either brother? Or is something else going on? Soren wondered.

“Alrighty guys. Maybe we show her how to play and then see if she wants to choose a team,” suggested Soren. “And you don’t have to join us if you don’t want to. It’s whatever you’re comfortable with. Also, if you need a hand, happy to help.”

It was quite a generous offer, and once again a display of Soren’s ability to read her mind; for the most part anyway.

“I… thank you. I’ll make my way over while you get everything all set up.” Ashlynn thought the lift would be nice, but having Soren carry her to the table in front of the boys might send the wrong message, especially since Soren hadn’t had a chance to tell them the rules and conditions for her visiting.

“So shall it be,” he smiled before turning back to the boys and dividing up different pieces of paper and cards. With only quick flicks from curious eyes on her, Ashlynn snagged her things and headed to the edge of the counter. The wood grain had obvious pock marks from where her hook had lodged itself on previous borrowing missions. So, with that in mind, Ashlynn slid her hook into the hole and leaned over the rim.

The rope easily slid through her fingers while her feet kept traction as she bounded down the wall like an acrobat. The wind in her hair was thrilling, and Ashlynn was on the ground in a matter of seconds. She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to sense all three humans watching her, jaws slack in awe.

This is really going to blow their minds then. Ashlynn stifled a grin to herself as she flicked the line. The ripple dislodged the hook and sent it flying through the air, and Ashlynn was ready for it. She only had to take two steps to the side as she snagged the hook out of the air before it hit the ground and rolled up the line in record time.

“Woah!” Both Dorian and Rey were leaning over the table, eyes wide as saucers, as they watched Ashlynn spin and hurl the hook up like a discus. It flew through the air and lodged into the side of the table on the first try, something Ashlynn was hoping would happen for dramatic effect, before climbing the line, legs weaving around the line like a snake, as she inched her way up.

“You are seriously so cool, little miss,” said Dorian, shifting his position from leaning over the table to peering under it to watch Ashlynn climb. Even Soren, who Ashlynn was climbing up beside, looked impressed.

“And, instead of gawking, we can go over a couple of rules she set for us. If she’s going to be visiting, we need to respect those rules. Okay? So, listening ears on,” instructed Soren. While Soren explained all of the things Ashlynn had told him, she finally managed to lift herself up over the edge of the table and roll onto its surface. Her heart thumped loudly, and she felt a bit winded, the table being the longest distance she’d covered without resting since her injury.

“So, we can’t ask certain questions? Like her name and stuff?” asked Rey. Soren glanced unsurely at Ashlynn. He’d never been given strict instruction to keep her name a secret, but she also didn’t give him permission to tell it either.

Hearing this, Ashlynn sat up and crossed her legs, knowing what needed to be done next. Clearing her throat, she looked between the two boys who were now looking at her eagerly.

“It’s… it’s nice to meet you, Rey… Dorian. I’m Ashlynn,” she said. She didn’t miss the excited glanced the boys gave one another. The Borrower also didn’t miss the curious gleam that was as bright as a flashlight in the dark. It was that curious gleam that every Borrower was terrified of, but she’d seen it before in the boys and let her nerves come and go as they sat back down in their seats.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ashlynn,” said Dorian.

“Ashlynn. I like that name. It suits you,” chimed in Rey. The child’s complement was short lived as Rey then asked, “Did you come up with it yourself?”

Ashlynn wasn’t sure how she wanted to answer the question. These two were obviously too young for the birds and the bees talk, and she was so unlike anyone they ever met that they were obviously not assuming there were more people like her, especially parents. At least there’s one good thing from this. They’re not assuming there’s more people out there like me.

“Um… n-no. I… I didn’t come up with it,” said Ashlynn. She felt her throat tightening, which led down into her chest like roots of a tree. She swallowed and looked away, hoping this would be the end of it; and, thankfully it was.

“Yeah, I didn’t come up with Rey. Our mom and dad came up with our names. Well, our mom came up with Soren’s name, but mom and dad both picked out Dorian and Rey,” blathered Rey. The statement struck Ashlynn as a bit odd as she wondered why Soren’s name would be dragged into the mix, especially at the mention of our mom.

“And, with that line of questioning, let’s explain the rules of the game and get a few rounds in before we bake the pizzas,” interrupted Soren. Ashlynn managed to mouth “thank you” before Soren delved into how to play Pictionary.

While Ashlynn had games like this she’d played with her family growing up, it was the whole reading portion that she struggled with. Ashlynn could sound out some words and understood certain letters put together, especially the ones that indicated danger. Reading was never a Borrower’s strong suit, so instead of participating she just watched as the two brothers tried to guess what Soren was drawing, each getting a point when they guessed correctly.

It was a charming experience, but all good things had to come to an end because, finally, it was time for dinner. Soren and the boys brought everything over to the table and Soren explained how to roll out the dough to make their own personalized pizzas.

“Okay, Ashlynn, how it works is after you roll out your dough, you spread on some sauce and then put different toppings on the top. Watch me.” Soren was lightning fast as he put together the first and the second before pausing and watching Ashlynn put together her own. Dorian and Rey asked a thousand questions as she used a bit of tin foil to spread red sauce over the surface.

What was her favorite topping? In truth? She didn’t know. She liked things she recognized and that didn’t make her feel sick later, so she chose cheese, pepperoni, bacon, and peppers.

Could she eat a whole pizza by herself? Especially if she was super hungry? Not a human sized one, but maybe one her size.

Was this the first time she’d ever cooked something like this? Yes. Cooking was a challenge.

How did she cook usually? Candle stove, but that was if she needed to cook or heat something up for safety purposes.

Did she just eat leftovers she found? Yes, mostly.

Ashlynn found herself answering some of the questions and politely declining the others and, just like that, it was time to eat. The aroma alone could have brought Ashlynn to her knees. Smelling everything first hand instead of the residual from the ceiling was like the difference between night and day. The same could be said about the temperature.

Eating something warm? Revolutionary. The moment she took her first bite, Ashlynn felt herself melting into it. At one point, she even let out an audible groan, making the boys giggle.

“It’s good, right?” asked Dorian. Ashlynn could only nod in response as she relished the experience of sharing a warm meal. “Hey, I have a question for you. Have you ever been afraid of heights?”

Ashlynn shook her head, before pausing, “No, not when I’m looking down. It’s when I’m looking up, like out here, that makes me feel a little woozy.” Rey, being curious, immediately snapped his head back ninety degrees to look up at the ceiling as if to see things from Ashlynn’s perspective. It was Dorian, however, who continued questioning.

“So, like, is it hard to climb tables and stuff like that? You know, being small and everything and you having to look up?”

Ashlynn paused mid-chew and looked up at Dorian with slight indignation. The Borrower wasn’t sure if she should be offended or grateful that the kid was taking her perspective into account and asking legitimate questions that weren’t too personal. When out in the human’s territory, it was all too obvious that size was a factor. She knew she was small, but for a Borrower she was slightly above average height. That was no small feat for a Borrower. She finished chewing and swallowed before readjusting where she sat.

“Um… no? I mean, it was hard when I was little – little-er. It just takes practice,” Ashlynn replied. For the first time in what felt like an hour of constant inundation from the boys, Soren spoke up.

“Yeah, I can understand that. We have to do rope training and looking up at a building roof is probably the same as looking up at the top of a table for you. I noticed you were using what we call the ‘s-hook’ method to get up the rope,” stated Soren. Ashlynn’s imagination instantly ran off the rails, her train of thought imagining Soren climbing up a line. She looked away quickly, cheeks burning, and hoped Soren didn’t notice her miniature fantasy.

“I… er… I don’t know the names. It’s just what I found was faster to limb the line,” muttered Ashlynn. “I’m… impressed you can climb a line. Most humans don’t know how to do basic survival stuff.”

“Yeah, Soren knows everything,” grinned Rey as he took another bite. Sauce smeared on either sides of his lips. His smile beamed through, despite the red staining on his mouth. Ashlynn nodded and glanced up at Soren, catching his eye.

“Yeah, your dad is really great.” Immediately, she watched Soren’s features darken. Now he was the one who was stiff and who looked away awkwardly. Unease settled around the table. The beaming smile on Rey’s face diminished, and Dorian’s brow furrowed in a scowl. Ashlynn felt like she’d just set off a firecracker in the walls, and all eyes were on her.

What? What did I say? Did I say that wrong? What’s going on?

“How would you know? You’ve never met him,” Dorian piped up before taking a particularly viscous bite out of his pizza slice, tearing the edge away with ease. Confusion didn’t cover Ashlynn’s initial reaction. She glanced up at Soren, who was clenching and unclenching his jaw and keeping his eyes averted.

“Yeah… dad… he’s not… the greatest…” mumbled Rey. “He’s the one who gave me these.” At that, Rey pulled back his long sleeved shirt, and the sight broke Ashlynn’s heart. There were circular marks going up Rey’s arm. They looked like burns, but not like the ones Soren had on his calloused hands. There were other marks too that might’ve been cuts, but Ashlynn couldn’t tell from where she was sitting. Dorian did the same, wiping his hands on his pants and pulling up his sleeves to show the same marks on him.

“No… he’s definitely not the greatest.” It was the first time Ashlynn had heard a growl come out of Soren, darkness saturating his words. She’d obviously treaded on a taboo subject; but how? She looked from person to person before the words came to her.

“But… hang on a second. So… they’re not yours?” Ashlynn looked up at Soren as she pointed to the boys. Soren’s golden hazel eyes locked onto Ashlynn’s blue gray orbs and, like the striking of a match, realization struck him. Instantly, his eyes lightened and was replaced with something else – amusement. Ashlynn looked back to Dorian and Rey, pointing between either boy and then back to Soren as if she were some kind of wonky compass. “Hang on. Wait but… isn’t… Soren? He’s not…. Isn’t Soren your dad?”

Low rumbling shook the table from Ashlynn’s right, and she realized it was Soren stifling his laughter. Dorian and Rey both glanced at each other before sputtering and erupting into a fit of laughter of their own. It was as if Ashlynn couldn’t have told a funnier joke to these three. Embarrassment burned a hole through her cheeks and her ears as she looked from person to person in hopes someone – anyone – would offer an explanation.

Finally, it was Rey who spoke up, recovering enough to say something coherent.

“Soren’s not our dad!” Rey giggled. “He’s our brother!”

Ashlynn was absolutely gob smacked. She looked between the three, waiting for there to be some kind of punch line. When there was none, Soren stepped in and continued Rey’d explanation.

“Yeah, I’m their older brother. We had the same mom, but my dad passed when I was a kid and my mom remarried to their dad, who isn’t in the picture by the way,” said Soren. Ashlynn wasn’t sure what “in the picture” meant, considering there were no cameras or other hanging pictures around, but she focused instead on Soren’s next question. “So, this whole time, did you think I was their dad?”

Ashlynn felt her cheeks burn hotter as she nodded bashfully.

“I… I guess I just thought… and you were so good at taking care of… Never mind,” muttered Ashlynn.

The boys quieted their laughter and refocused on their dinner guest.

“Oh, oh no. I’m sorry Ashlynn,” mumbled Rey.

“Yeah, we didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Dorian added. “You didn’t know. We’re sorry.” Soren nodded in acknowledgement, agreeing with both boys. She looked up and saw no malice or taunt hiding in the boys’ faces. It was still embarrassing, but Ashlynn had to admit that she did find it a little funny. All this time, she’d just assumed that Soren was the boys’ father. Little quirks and things he would do, and their similarities and differences could all be explained away with that explanation.

Ashlynn realized a moment later that she was chuckling a little as well. “It’s okay,” she said earnestly. “To be fair, I thought it was weird that you two called Soren by his first name. I should’ve seen it. I’m sorry for assuming.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” said Soren, his tone and countenance back to normal. “Anyway, it’s getting late and you two need to get to bed if we’re going sledding tomorrow.”

“And then it’s Christmas Eve!” Rey cheered, a little louder than Ashlynn would’ve liked. “Hey, Ashlynn, do you like Christmas? Did you ask Santa for anything? Is… OH! Is Santa like you? You know? Smaller?”

“Rey,” Dorian rolled his eyes, prompting the youngest brother to continue.

“What?! It would make sense. Fits down the chimney. Knows if you’re good or bad. Knows what you want for Christmas. Oh! Like an elf! Like one of Santa’s elves!”

Ashlynn was completely lost by Rey’s words. Santa? Christmas? She recognized the word “elf,” but wasn’t sure if it was a complement or not to be called one.

“You know Santa isn’t real, right?” stated Dorian in his matter-of-fact older sibling authoritarian tone.

“I know! But all of the stories have him normal sized, and maybe they have it wrong! Maybe whoever wrote those books made Santa be big with magic to keep people from looking for littler people living in the walls and floors and stuff. Wait, Ashlynn, you don’t have magic, do you?” asked Rey.

Ashlynn chuckled and shook her head, barely keeping her head above the surface of her swimming thoughts. “No… I don’t have magic. I’m just… me. What’s a ‘Santa’? And Christmas? Is that when you humans put up trees and leave out stuff for longer?”

This made Soren chuckle. “Yeah, basically. Christmas is a bit more than giving gifts though. It’s about celebrating Jesus Christ’s birth and spending time with friends and family remembering what’s important in life.” It was still so far above Ashlynn’s head that she felt like she was on the verge of drowning. At the same time, it made sense. Year after year, she’d seen humans gather together during the cold season for exactly what Soren described.

“Hey, Ashlynn? Could I ask you something next?” asked Dorian. Ashlynn directed her attention to the middle brother and nodded. “Um… you’ve said it a few times, but you’ve called us humans. I know that’s what we are, but then what does that make you? Are you not human?”

“Yeah, you look human. You’re a person, just like us. Is there a difference?” asked Rey. Dorian shot him a look, as if to say that his question should be first, before looking back at Ashlynn. The table once again fell silent, and Ashlynn wasn’t sure how she wanted to answer. Even Soren had directed his focus onto her and only her.

This is one of those questions about who and what I am. I don’t want to answer. It’s not directly asking what I am, but it’s close enough.

“I… I don’t… could you ask something different, please?” asked Ashlynn. Her legs pulled in closer, and it felt like her skin was tingling under the watchful gaze of the three boys. Both Rey and Dorian opened their mouths to protest, but Soren clearing his throat silenced them.

“We’ll have to save those questions for some time later. Now, hop to! Take your dishes to the kitchen and decide who is bathing first. It has to happen for both of you, so decide now. And, Ashlynn, if you don’t want to stay to do dishes, then I’ll wish you a good night,” stated Soren.

Saved!

Ashlynn nodded and smiled at the boys, who obviously looked disheartened that she didn’t want to answer their last question of the night. She crossed her legs and, in one fluid motion, twirled to her feet, earning a few “oohhs” from the boys. She snagged her hook from her hip and approached the ledge when, from behind, she heard Rey’s voice pipe up.

“Um… Ashlynn… do… do you need help? So you don’t have to climb down and back up?” The youngest’s question was genuinely out of concern, though it still made Ashlynn a bit uneasy. Still, he’d showed restraint, much like Dorian, and she was trying to demonstrate a bit of trust for the family of three.

The Borrower also remembered the last time she was in Rey’s hands, injured and ill. Was he looking for a chance to redeem himself? Or did he just want a chance to hold the tiny person again?

“I… um…” The boy’s eyes pleaded that she say “yes.”

“Rey, she might not feel comfortable with that,” stated Soren. The glance out of the corner of his eye was obviously waiting for some kind of confirmation or denial. Either way, it was a way for her to get out of being carried by a child.

But…

Rey was sweet.

He was kind.

It’s okay. I have to… no… I want to give a little. They’re inviting me into their home without anything in return. I don’t owe them anything, but this is something I can do to show the trust they’ve earned.

“It… it’s okay. Just… be careful. No sudden movements. Got it?” Ashlynn’s request was met with the delight of a thousand answered questions. Rey immediately hopped off of his chair and scurried over to the other side of the table where Ashlynn was standing. The child looked eagerly up at Soren, whose silent eye-language spoke volumes. Rey took a few calm breaths before slowly offering his hands for Ashlynn to stand on.

She could see the sauce stained fingers and the glint in those pale blue eyes that usually would’ve warded her away from such an interaction. Instead, she pushed through her discomfort and stepped forward onto Rey’s hand, ignoring the little excited inhale as she stood on his right palm and crouched.

“Over to the counter, please.” Ashlynn’s blood was roaring in her ears. She swallowed dryly as the hand beneath her jostled and Rey, as carefully as he could, shuffled his feet back over to the countertop. It was maybe five feet in total, just under two meters. It was still enough to make Ashlynn appreciate her autonomy and ability to choose.

Rey set her down without grabbing, pinching, tripping, petting, and every other horrible thing Ashlynn thought a child might be capable of. He was beaming and looking proud of himself, and Ashlynn had to admit that despite the age gap that Rey had almost given a smoother ride than Soren when he brought her to the countertop that day.

“Thanks, Rey.”

Ashlynn saw Rey’s entire body vibrate in a kind of full body wag before he replied. “You are so welcome, Ashlynn.”

Soren corralled his brother away from the countertop, Dorian close behind, as he waved goodnight to Ashlynn.

“Take whatever leftovers you’d like, and don’t be a stranger. Goodnight Ashlynn.”

Ashlynn watched the three brothers go, questions forming in her head about the three.

What was the story behind Rey and Dorian’s father? Why did Soren have that look on his face? She’d never seen him look so irritated and stoic with no gleam of care in those golden hazel orbs.

I might have to give some better answers if I want the answer to those questions; which, all in all, might not be a bad thing. Ashlynn thought as she packed up a few little pieces for a snack later and vanished back into the walls.

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

Continue

~~~~~^*^*^*^*^~~~~~

A Tall and Small Collection | Original Story

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crazycurly-77 · 2 days ago

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A well-meant Plan

Oh man, the boss could be really stressful. He didn't have any hobbies other than building his boat, which was probably the reason why he didn't pay attention to the time of day or night or to private appointments.

His mood also fluctuated between bad, worse and terrible.

On this day, the latter was more the case, which Tony and you have already felt.

After Gibbs had loudly reprimanded you both for the second time, he went to get a coffee and you could finally take a breather.

"Phew, it's best to avoid the boss today," said DiNozzo as he came to you for a short chat.

"Yes. And because we have to work overtime again, I had to cancel another date," you replied, annoyed and disappointed.

Suddenly Tony started grinning and shouted: "I got it! That's THE idea!"

That sounded interesting. You looked up at him curiously: “What’s up? Tell me!”

He leaned towards you conspiratorially, lowered his voice and said: “He needs a woman!”

You couldn’t help but burst out laughing. That was just too absurd.

“Are you seriously trying to set Gibbs up? Are you crazy?”

“No! Listen: he doesn’t have a private life of his own, which is why it doesn’t bother him at all if he makes us work overtime. A woman at his side would complain if he just sat in the office all the time. That would inevitably mean less work for us too,” he argued and paused briefly.

Then he continued: “Think about it… finishing work earlier and sleeping in on the weekend, being able to meet up with friends without constantly having to worry about being called and having to leave...”

The argument was extremely convincing and you were excited about his plan: “You know what? We’ll try it! And I already have the perfect candidate for it!”

Tony was thrilled: “Tell me.”

Grinning mischievously, you described your friend: “Sue is tall, confident, independent, pretty and has red hair.”

“Hey! She’s perfect! Call her right away!” Tony called out. You immediately picked up the phone and asked her to pick you up from the office in the hope that Gibbs would be back by then.

And indeed, he came back a short time later, fixed you with a venomous look, sat down at his desk and continued working.

A few minutes later, Sue arrived and immediately after entering the office, she eyed up Jethro and he assessed her. Of course…she had red hair…Tony and you just winked at each other. Your plan seemed to be working.

You watched with excitement as the two of them approached each other and actually made plans to meet up that same evening!!!

My goodness, contrary to expectations, it went brilliantly!!! If something developed from this, you would finally have a chance at a solid life outside of the office!

Your plan seemed to be working.

In the next few weeks, Sue actually visited more often to pick up Gibbs for an evening together. He was really in a better mood and he stopped calling you all the time after work.

But the longer the two of them met and the more often you had to watch them chatting intimately, laughing and leaving the office together, the unhappier you became.

You couldn't explain it, but it was true.

At every meeting, Sue raved to you about her meetings and evenings together with Jethro. She told you so enthusiastically what a gentleman he is and how wonderful their time together is that you could see the hearts in her eyes.

With each of her descriptions, you were happy for the two of them and were just waiting for the official announcement that they were a couple. But with every meeting, the stab in your heart and the pain of loss grew.

At first you couldn't explain it, but at some point you had to accept that you were in love with him yourself. But now the chance to be happy together was gone. And you had only yourself to blame.

While he became happier and smiled now and then, you became more and more sad. And when you couldn't stand it anymore, you decided to talk to your friend Abby about it.

Desperate and seeking advice, you sat in her lab and talked everything off your chest.

"Tony and I just wanted him to be happy again, but the plan backfired completely... I wish them both all the happiness in the world. And that's why I'm going to ask for a transfer."

Abby looked at you in shock: "Why?"

Sadly you hung your head and replied quietly: "Because I love him."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Jethro's deep voice suddenly sounded behind you. Damn. That wasn't planned.

When Abby saw him, she gasped and your heart almost stopped in shock.

You turned red and wanted to flee, but he was standing right behind you and stopped you by gently holding your wrist.

That screamed for an urgently needed discussion between the two of you.

With a quick “I'll leave you alone and visit Ducky,” Abby left her lab to give you some privacy.

After she left, nothing happened at first. Neither of you knew how to begin, even though there was so much to discuss.

Silently and with a thousand questions in his eyes, Gibbs looked at you and finally asked quietly: "Why didn't you say anything?"

You were very uncomfortable being confronted by him about this, which is why you tried to evade him with an equally quiet "It doesn't matter."

"No, it DOES matter!" he insisted in a firm voice while he continued to hold your wrist, fearing that you would run away as soon as he let go of you.

"No, it doesn't." Your desperation grew. How were you supposed to explain to him what was going on inside you? He would only say that he wanted Sue and not you and that you should forget everything.

You knew that this was probably best, but you couldn't bear to hear those words from him.

But he showed no mercy and continued to try to get you to talk. He looked you straight in the eyes and spoke forcefully:

"It DOES matter to ME. So why? Why didn't you talk to me?"

That look that felt like he could see into the very depths of your soul... you could no longer withstand it.

Sighing deeply and closing your eyes, you gave up your resistance.

You gathered all your courage, opened your eyes again and looked at him firmly. "I wanted you to be happy and that's why I set you two up. But over time I realized that it hurt me to see you leave the office together."

You had managed the first part of your confession. But the hardest part was still to come and the thought of it made your heart sink.

A big lump formed in your throat and you tried with all your might to hold back your tears. But that was no longer possible and you felt them slowly starting to run down your cheeks.

Jethro didn't say a word during your little break. He stood in front of you and still looked at you expectantly. When he saw your tears, he began to stroke your arms soothingly and maybe help you somehow.

"Every time Sue talked about your time together and I saw how she beamed with happiness, I was happy for you. But it hurt me so much and every time I think my heart is going to break into a thousand pieces with grief," you said, getting quieter and quieter, trying to reveal your inner feelings to him.

With every word you spoke, your hopelessness grew. But the worst was yet to come: releasing him. It felt like you were ripping your own heart out, but it had to be done. For Sue. But mostly for him.

You hung your head and collected yourself one last time before you could look at him again. He was completely blurred through your veil of tears. If you hadn't felt so miserable, you would have found it amusing. But no, you weren't in the mood to laugh at all.

Jethro continued to hold your hand patiently, stroked the back of your hand soothingly and waited. He had the feeling that you weren't finished yet. So he waited.

Finally, you continued: "I'm very happy for you two and wish you all the happiness in the world."

Then you took a deep breath and started again: "...and that's why I'm going."

Your words took the ground from under Gibbs' feet and all his self-confidence was gone. He couldn't let you go. He had to somehow convince you to stay with him. He couldn't lose you.

Nothing happened for a few seconds. You just looked deep into each other's eyes in the hope of finding out what the other was thinking.

Then he stroked your cheek with his thumb and wiped away your tears. "You silly thing," he scolded you gently.

He carefully put his arm around your neck and came closer and closer to you. He hoped fervently that you wouldn't run away.

He closed his eyes and blew a tender kiss on your lips. When he noticed that you didn't resist, he softly placed his lips on yours and gently pulled you towards him.

It was enough to make you melt. For both of you, it was finally the fulfillment of all your dreams, but suddenly you tore yourself away from him and slapped him.

"How dare you?!” you hissed at him.

You had just torn him out of a beautiful world and he no longer understood anything. In his confusion he just stared at you: "What do you mean?"

You wavered between the breathtaking feeling of being in his arms and pure despair. Why didn't he understand that?

"How dare you kiss me? Kiss the woman you love instead!" was your advice to him.

"Yes, exactly," he agreed and took another step towards you.

"What are you doing?" you asked cautiously.

He grinned confidently: "Follow your advice." Before you could react, he grabbed you, pulled you into his arms and pressed his lips to yours again. At first you tried to resist, but after a short time your resistance weakened. And when his tongue gently stroked your lower lip and asked for entry, you finally surrendered.

As your tongues danced together and carefully explored each other's mouth, fireworks exploded in your hearts. That was exactly what you were both looking for.

But it was wrong. He was in a relationship with your friend, your mind switched on again.

Reluctantly, you ended your kiss and wanted to tell him that you shouldn't do that. But he gently put a finger on your lips and whispered: "There is nothing between Sue and me. There was never anything and there never will be. We only met and talked a few times. We are just friends. But I'm glad that it made you recognize and understand your feelings. And that's why I'm taking your advice... I'm kissing the woman I love.”

To emphasize his words, he kissed you again and you were absolutely speechless at his confession.

“But...”

"No buts."

Again he stole a kiss from you and now that he had finally tasted and felt your lips, he could not and would never stop kissing you.

“Do you still want to go?” he asked you almost shyly.

“No! I'm staying with you!” you cried, beaming with joy and threw your arms around his neck.

He burst with joy, took you in his arms and laughed “I'm so happy!”

The two of you stood in Abby's lab, hugging each other tightly, sharing the deepest kiss ever and it said more than words could have ever expressed.

The End

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Masterlist stories - Part 1 (finished ones)

Masterlist stories - Part 2 (finished ones and ongoing ones)

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Tags: @ilovemark1951, @hobby27

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#ncis #jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #gibbs #gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs x reader #ncis fanfiction #gibbs fanfiction #jethro gibbs #jethro gibbs fanfiction #ncis x you #ncis x reader #leroy jethro gibbs fanfiction #jethro gibbs x you #gibbs x you #leroy jethro gibbs x you

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marshmallowgoop · 9 months ago

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No matter how special it is, a kid's lunch is still just a kid's lunch.

I dunno, I liked "The Genius Restaurant" (Episode 1,089).

Happy (belated) birthday, Jimjam.

[Song link] [YouTube link]

#detective conan #case closed #amv #my amvs #video #eye strain #conan edogawa #shinichi kudo #song is #nosedive #by #flor #ahahahaha i thought this would just be a chill edit and was like #'i did my last vid in 30 hours so i can do this one in less because it's shorter right? and because i'm mostly using one ep?'#wrong lol this took about 40-ish hours? nooooo idea how i did 'if you kill me' in 30...#aside from the audio i think that's a more complicated edit too ^^;#way late for jimjam's bday but i guess it's not *that* birthday related anyway... but it was my first thought for a bday edit haha #been meaning to do an amv for the ep for a while! special thanks to marivanilla05 for inspiring me to watch it with their great art #i'm so behind that i don't watch new eps much but i'm glad i skipped ahead and watched this one #special thanks to astravis for helping me with the beginning and to hex for the liveblog too!#i know it was a long time ago but that liveblog definitely inspired some choices here #that said i'm glad i waited because i think i'm a much better editor than i was last july (well hope so anyway!)#and this song only released a couple of weeks ago!#had tons of trouble picking a song (usually my amvs are song first but this was idea first) but i think i really like how this one fits #sources are mostly #episode 1089 #but also episodes 1 14 52 and 192 and tv special 6 (episode one: the great detective turned small) and movies 13 and 16 and ova 9

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thedrotter · 10 months ago

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sweet sweet re:kinder community... I would like to ask y'all how you came upon the game and your experiences with it because i wanna know. im genuinely so curious to hear about other people's experiences and little opinions about this game because of how wild the game is (/pos) I'd love to hear it. do ramble to me about it

#re:kinder #not art #so in my case i once saw someone talk about it in a video and some scenes with the very vague context really struck with me #i was like wow...that is so sad... i wonder what goes on #but the thing is i watch videos talking about games like that ALLL THE TIME while im multi-tasking so i FORGOT FOR A YEAR?!?!?#until one day i was sick in pain on my bed could not move. and then it came to me. yes. “RE:KINDER. I SHOULD PLAY IT.” LIKE OUT OF NOWHERE #i will never understand how i dying of pain remembered a game i saw once BY NAME AT LEAST A YEAR LATER when jve heard of so many games #and you wanna know why it stuck with me. i saw in the video an image of the “as if id be reborn as a princess” line #i did not know the context but it was devastating #AND WHEN I PLAYED THE GAME when that scene game i was shocked to silence😭😭 BECAUSE I BASICALLY WENT COMPLETELY BLIND??#I DID NOT KNOW THE LITTLE KID WOULD BE THE ANTAGONIST???? AND THAT HE WOULD HAVE SUCH A SAD STORY??#like. i saw the sad coming i knew it was bound to happen yet i could have never been prepared for how hard it would hit me #I HAD TONS OF FUN but at first when i finished it i was so confused and so lost i was like welll.....what a game... TOO STUNNED FOR WORDS #then i thoughr of it for 20 minutes and bawled my eyes out and realized it was art #so when i got to my second playthrough i CRIED LIKE CRAZYYY😭😭 I WAS BLOWN AWAY IT REALLY HITS YOU #personally it admittedly hit close to home and while it made me bawl my eyes out it was also very comforting i felt very understood #AND IT WAS CRAZY FUN TOO i was not bored once the first time i played through it i was sleepy but i was so excited to keep playing😭😭#its funnt becayse i was initially apprehensive about playing cuz im sensitive to stories where sad things happen to kids #but i played it regardless because i was like “but what if its one of those scary media that hit close to home and i enjoy”#AND I WAS RIGHT. BUT NOT ENTIRELY BECAUSE I DID NOT THINK IT WOULD HIT AS INTENSELY AS IT DID😭😭 IT WAS MYCH MORE THAN EXPEVTED #many ways in which it impacted me but if i started listing them i would not shut up . so for now it is enough #IN SUMMARY WOW.. WHAY A GOOD GAME!! PLAY RE:KINDER!!!#i rambled more than i intended to i do apologize

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cuteniarose · 3 months ago

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It’s almost 6 a.m and I can’t sleep because I’m being plagued by thoughts of The Latest OC

#Kat and Nia and their multiverse of madness #Jia is genuinely making me lose my mind #right now the aftermath interests me a bit more because I live for emotional whump and angst #just.. imagine being her parents #you beg for your daughter’s life and your plea is listened to. she’s released. having proved herself useless. you barely recognise her #she’s nothing like the upbeat and cheerful girl you raised who loved working in this palace. who loved her lady #she’s so thin. hollow cheeks and empty eyes. she barely reacts to anything but Lord Jusamah’s voice which makes her flinch #you’re afraid to even hug her in case she disappears like a ghost would. something is very very wrong with her #you remember the rumours that she was tortured for the information. she looks like she’s starving #it’s clear she was hurt. she wouldn’t act like this if she wasn’t. you’re scared to think of what is hidden beneath her clothes #you want to lunge at Lord Jusamah and strangle him with your bare hands. inflict everything he’s done to your daughter on him tenfold #but you can’t. he’s rich and you aren’t. he has power and you don’t. if you try.. none of you are seeing the sun ever again #you barely care. it would be worth it. but you have two other children to worry about. and Jia deserves her freedom #so all you can do is drop to your knees. press your forehead to the floor. and thank him for his kindness #you tell Jia that you’re taking her home. alertness returns to her for but a moment #‘home?’ her whisper sounds so sad. so broken. you can barely stand it #you rush home as fast as you can. she’s so skittish it hurts. she feels the sun on her face and doesn’t move for a good 10 minutes #you can’t bring yourself to say anything. one of you goes ahead to warn the family so the children won’t crowd her #you finally make it to your house and Jia looks at it as if it was a mirage. she touches the wall to ensure it’s real #the first thing you do is help her take a bath. the sight of her back fuels you with bloodlust. there’s no untouched spot on it #your sweet gentle girl was whipped until criss crossing scars covered every last inch. it must have been hell #you bandage her wounds and take her to eat. she gorges herself on it as if someone would take it away. some light returns to her eyes #she always had a good appetite. at least that didn’t change. after lunch you let her sleep in your own bed #instead of making her share with her siblings and cousins. she needs space. she passes out the second her head hits the pillow #you stay and keep watch. and when the first night terror occurs. you’re ready. her screams are impossibly loud #you wake her. calm her down and hold her hand as she falls back asleep. recovery won’t be an easy road #but you walk it anyway. and with time. she gets better. she returns to her old self. only some traces of that horror remain #she’s happy again. smiles a lot. helps out. plays with the younger kids. she’s the Jia you know and love #she has nightmares. her scars hurt. no one touches her back. she’s paranoid about food. but she’ll be okay. you’re sure of it #(I reached the tag limit again but at least I said all I had in mind. but I could probably ramble on about this for ages…)

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mycenaae · 1 year ago

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bravely starting my house md rewatch

#or in some cases ''watch with my eyes for the first time'' NOT because i haven't Experienced all of it #but because i experienced the early seasons through a radio station that broadcasted a local tv channel. on the radio #imagine. early seasons hilson radio play. i lived that #nat.txt

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inbabylontheywept · 5 months ago

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i once accidentally dated someone for a few months. its very difficult to explain how this happened, but the gist is that i thought we were hanging out, and she thought we were on dates, and it was just a very painfully highschool thing.

she was a little bit confused that i hadnt tried to pull any moves, at all, even a little. like, didnt even try holding hands because, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating.

so, halloween rolled around, and she thought, you know, why wait for destiny, when you can grab it? so she hit me with a clue by four.

babylon, she said. babylon. my mom's gonna be out of town on halloween, and im gonna have the house to myself, and it's going to be kind of lonely. would you like to come to my house and watch scary movies with me?

you know, kind of a netflix and chill thing. except, and i cannot emphasize this enough, i did not know we were dating. also autism. so i took it at face value and said: oh! yeah! thatd be fun! and she thought she got her point across, but she didnt and it was a mess.

skip forward to halloween: my family has a block party every year, right? and at that point i was too old to really trick or treat, but we still wore costumes for our role in the block party, which in my case, was handing out cotton candy. so i took the first shift, and my costume was this homemade abomination minion thing. i had full yellow body paint, and goggles, and a bald cap, and overalls. the kids who saw it were like, uh, hm. overly realistic minion. and adults were like, oh, some kind of hills have eyes hillbilly with jaundice. very scary.

(it was not my best costume.)

my little brother swapped me out for second shift, and i was getting ready to change out to head to her house when i was like: no, she'll get a real kick out of this. this is one of the worst things i have ever worn. so i kept it on and just brought a change of clothes thinking i could shower real quick and change at her place after she saw my nightmare getup.

so i left after that, got there, knocked on her door, and she said come on in. so i went in, and there was this very long hall with an abrupt right turn into her living room where the tv was, and i went down the hall, and i made the turn, and my field of view went from beige drywal to her, on the couch, naked. naked in the paint me like one of your french girls pose. super naked.

i panicked. this was my first time seeing a real person like, full on sex naked,which is a totally different beast from other kinds of naked. you see one kind of naked and you think yeah, im ready for all the kinds of naked, but you arent. i wasnt at least. i really wasn't.

so my brain crashed to BIOS. she also crashed to BIOS, but for different reasons. of all the ways this could have turned me, having me show up in yellow body paint and overalls was pretty pretty low down the list.

so we sat there a while, and you know, she wasn't getting any less naked, which really wasn't helping me get my brain sorted out. it really wasnt much of a surprise when she got her bearings first and started asking questions.

"babylon," she said. "babylon. what are you wearing?"

and i was like, kind of rebooted, but i was nowhere near full functionality, so symbolic language wasnt loaded in yet. i had nothing running but my trusty autism.exe, so i said

"overalls"

and she looked at me like i was the dumbest person in the entire world, and i looked at her like she was the first naked person i had seen in real life who got naked specifically for me, and my upper level cognitive process went: "listen man, we are not going to get our shit together as long as 80% of your brain power is devoted to not blinking. you gotta get out of here."

and if id communicated that, maybe things would have been less of a mess, but instead i just kind of turned around and walked back to my car. i figured i could drive a few loops around the block, get my brain in order, and figure out what the hell we were gonna do.

the only thing i had said to her since arriving was, again, overalls.

first loop around, i was like: oh god fucking damnit. oh shit. oh shit. shes gonna get like, an eating disorder from this. oh no.

second loop around i was like: oh NOOOOO oh WHAT THE FUCK oh SWEET JESUS PLEASE. i dont wanna go back man. i just wanna bury this and forget about it. please. please. let this bitter cup pass from my lips.

and after my third loop, i went and i knocked on her door again.

she answered it this time, and i counted my lucky stars that she'd changed into some pajamas. she was all teary eyed which was the saddest thing ever, and we sat down in her kitchen and talked. it was pretty bad - i figured out we'd been dating, and she figured out that trying to jump from home plate to 3rd base is considered ballsy in baseball, least of all dating. no real winners there. and i can remember after all that, we sat there a bit a bit longer, just steadying ourselves, and i was like "well, im actually really glad we figured that out. guess i'll see you at school tomorow' and she said "WAIT. wait."

"lets watch shrek 2."

so we did and it was horrible. we did not look at each other. we did not say a word. we just sat in stony silence, while shrek 2 played in the background, and when it was done we shook hands. i think we might have been able to salvage that as a friendship if it hadnt been for shrek. as it was she turned white as a sheet and ran away every time she even got a glimpse of me at school, and that summer she moved to a new state to live with her dad. all her friends said she moved just so she wouldn't have to go to school with me anymore, and i dont actually think they were lying.

every time i hear relationship counselors talk about how important communication is, and i'm tempted to roll my eyes, i look back and go, alright. alright. theres probably some poor bastard, somewhere in the world, who doesnt even know that hes married.

and god help him when he figures it out.

other bad dating story here.

#funny stories #dating #dating fiascos #minions #the minion incident #anecdotes #fuck shrek #and fuck shrek 2 #like its the best in the shrek series but that movie is basically my trigger now

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luveline · 2 months ago

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𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you. [3k]

c: fem, bombshell!reader, head injury, hospitals, amnesia, fluff, spencer can’t believe he bagged you, requested here

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

Spencer wakes to an empty room.

He lays on a pillow too flat, neck twinging, the back of his eyes throbbing when he moves.

He struggles to breathe through his nose and lets his mouth open for a few achy breaths, his mouth dry like he’s been sucking on cotton balls.

Spencer’s alarmed, without a clue what it is he’s done. He wonders where Gideon is, if the older man has come to see him yet. He hopes somebody told his mom he’s okay.

Maybe Hotch will come. He and Hotch have grown closer while Gideon was on his mandated recovery time; Gideon spends far less time in the office, sticking to lectures, seminars and consults, while Hotch, Morgan and Spencer handle the away cases. Spencer might go as far as to say Hotch likes him. And Morgan can tolerate him now, less grudging when Spencer offers a random fact or statistic to further the case.

A stab of pain at the back of his head makes itself known sharply.

Spencer doesn’t want to move, but he needs to assess things. He frowns at his arms, naked as they are. His silver watch is missing. A t-shirt that he doesn’t remember buying stretches over his chest. What state are they in, and who dressed him?

He’s scowling at the window with it’s wide-open blinds and all the sun when the door opens.

You’re looking at the bags on your arm as you come in. Spencer startles in his blankets —what are you doing here? Agent L/N, Morgan’s friend and a candidate for the open position on the BAU team. You’re from the Sex Crimes Unit, like Greenaway.

Spencer flusters every time he sees you, not just because of how kind you’d been the first time you met, or even the easy flirtation you send his way when you cross paths. It’s because you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. He’s not talking about the golden ratio or statistical beauty, you’re just stunning. You stop him in his tracks whenever you steal into the office. It’s better when you notice he’s awake and light up like he’s the winning numbers for tonight’s lottery pull. Everything about you illuminates.

“Hey, babe!” you say, not not yelling as you drop your bags in the seat by the bed and reach for him.

He doesn’t think to move away as you take his face into your hands.

“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, you almost slept for the full twenty four hours.” Your hands are soft. They smell like neroli. When you stroke his cheek and lean down to give him a chaste peck, he almost passes out there and then. “It's a good thing, obviously,” you say, and then kiss him again distractedly. Spencer squeezes his eyes closed. “You heal more when you’re asleep. Or so I’ve heard.”

You pull away, Spencer blinking for his life. You have such a nice mouth, but Spencer’s never thought about what it might feel like on his. He doesn’t have the audacity: in what world would you ever kiss him? That’s the joke, right, when you flirt with him in the office?

“How are you feeling?” you ask, losing some of your pep. “How’s your head, handsome? You know, there are easier ways to get a haircut.”

“They cut my hair?” he croaks.

“Shaved it at the back to stitch you up. Not much, don’t worry. They were pushing for a buzz cut but I put my foot down on that one,” you joke. You nudge his legs aside without worrying about sitting on him as you get comfortable. “It’s not much. You can’t tell.”

“I…”

“You feeling okay?” you ask softly. Your nice mouth purses. Your eyebrows pinch. They’re cute eyebrows.

“You look different than the last time I saw you.”

He doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s noticing things now. You’re wearing less powder under your eyes than you used to. You seem to have gained a little weight, and you look good. You didn’t look bad before, but this is different. Your hair isn’t too different, nor your brows, but you’ve begun lining your lips in a new way. Your blush is a subtler hue. Spencer doesn’t claim to know everything about you, but he can say that you look neatly the same each time you visit. Why the sudden change?

“It’s hard to sleep when your favourite person in the world gets his head cut open,” you say, taking his hand where he’d left it loose in the blankets.

Your fingers slip into his with ease.

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, attempting to swallow his nerves.

“Of course you can.”

He licks his lips. “Uh, I think I’m confused. I don’t– I don’t remember what happened, and…”

“Oh, right. They told me this might happen.” You draw yourself up with a breath. He’s fascinated by the movement, an air of heat around him as you begin rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “You got hit in the back of the head with a cinder block, honey. Went down like a lead balloon.” You turn your face to show your cheek. “We’re even now on good scares, yeah?”

You have a scar on your face he’d missed, carefully concealed but yet not invisible. Your hand in his feels so alien he holds it wrong, fingers twined but palms apart.

“What happened to you?” he asks.

Your brow crinkles. You go very still. “My cheek?” you ask.

“What…”

“Spencer, what’s the last thing you can remember, honey?” you ask, all the horror in the world to be found in your eyes.

“Uh…” He feels sick to his stomach.

“Spencer?”

Without having to be told, you slip off of the bed with two taps of your shoes and reach for the bedpan, thrusting it into his lap.

His mouth fills with spit. “I’m fine,” he says.

“No, I don’t think so. Let me get a doctor.”

“Wait,” he says, clutching the bedpan and pushing his wave of nausea as far down as he can. “Please don’t go.”

“My face was months ago, honey. I got hit in the face with a hammer by a UnSub, you don’t remember?” you ask incredulously.

“Why do you keep calling me honey?” he asks. He knows the answer, but it’s not computing.

Your face drains of any happiness. “I’m going to get a doctor,” you say, shoulders rigidly tight as you exit the room, leaving Spencer in your wake wishing he’d just pretended he knew who you were, just until you kissed him again.

—

“And he really can’t remember you at all?” Morgan asks.

You’re a little less startled than you had been, and you’re trying not to punish poor Spencer, but realising your boyfriend forgot years of flirting, and yearning, and friendship —years of kissing in secret and otherwise, years of holding hands, and staying at each other’s places to get that extra time together, even if it was just getting to sleep in the same bed between cases— was a slap.

“He remembers me,” you say, leg crossed over the other, arm over the railing of Spencer’s bed to hold his hand. “He just doesn’t remember a thing after Gideon came back, after Boston.”

“I remember when you had hair,” Spencer says to Derek.

Derek glares at him, “This Spencer doesn’t get to sass me.”

“But I do eventually?”

“How come you’re holding hands if he doesn’t know who you are?” Derek asks pointedly.

You shrug. “We talked about it, didn’t we?” you ask Spencer, who perks up every time you talk, which isn’t unlike your usual Spencer. Whenever he catches himself doing it he flusters. Every time you call him baby he loses his mind. “He doesn’t remember me, but he wants to. And I remember him.”

“This must be pretty weird for you, kid,” Derek says.

“Sort of,” Spencer says.

It’s funny. Now you know Spencer thinks he’s twenty three again, you can’t not notice his shyness and his awkward tries at casualness. You’d forgotten what he was like back then.

“Wait, does that mean you don’t remember Emily?” Derek asks.

Spencer frowns. “Uh, no?”

You sit up in your chair. “Emily’s one of your best friends, honey. She joined the BAU when Greenaway left.”

“Not you?” he asks.

You dramatise your pain as Derek laughs. “Not me. I didn’t transfer for a long time, unfairly. It’s okay, though, you’ll remember Emily eventually.”

When you realised Spencer wasn’t as okay as you’d thought, you gathered a gaggle of agitated doctors to assess him. He knew his name and birthday. He was wrong about the date, the president, and the state. You’re in Arizona where he’d thought Indiana. Your bag talks to the heat: Spencer’s fan, his sunblock, his antihistamines. He couldn’t believe it when he asked where his stuff was and you passed him your handbag.

You’re trying to drive home to him that you’re not just dating, you're common-law partners, Spence. He adores you. You’d spend life in his lap if you could afford it.

“How’d she get you to believe her?” Derek asks Spencer.

“Uh.”

“I kissed him a couple of times before he came clean about the amnesia,” you say. “So I didn’t have to explain.”

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Spencer says.

He’s looking less haggard now you’ve brushed his hair. It was sweet to watch his shoulders relax. He shuddered when you tucked a strand behind his ears, and didn’t flinch when you asked if you could kiss his cheek. It’s hard to have him vulnerable here and not be allowed to lick his wounds for him. You feel better the better he feels. You’ve fluffed his pillow, wrapped him tighter in blankets. When he got up to pee and you offered to help, he gave a resolute No Thank You, which in hindsight is hilarious but at the time made you wanna squeeze your eyes out.

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “I don’t mind kissing him, even if he doesn’t remember me. Just so long as he doesn’t mind it back.”

Spencer manages to squeeze your hand. It’s a soft one, but it’s real. “I don’t mind.”

“You dog,” Derek says.

“Stop, stop. He’s not doing anything wrong, is he?” you ask. “I’m the evil one, forcing kisses on him when he doesn’t know me.”

“I do know you,” Spencer says.

“What’s it like to have a crush on your own girlfriend?” Derek asks, unwilling to quit his teasing where he’s crossing his arms in the chair opposite, his cup of coffee drained on the side table.

Spencer swallows. “Uh, nerve-wracking.”

“Believe it or not, that’s not so different to now,” Derek says.

Spencer looks to you for confirmation, which you love. You slide your chair closer to him and clasp his wrist with your free hand. “Sometimes you're still a little shy, but it’s not so bad. Full of myself I may be, Spencer Reid, but you do love me. It’s easy with us.”

“Do we really live together?” he asks. “You said common-law.”

“Not technically. I stay at your place four nights a week. You stay with me for the weekends.”

“Every week?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“We’re never apart?” he asks.

His face is turning pink. You could kiss every bit of colour on his cheeks.

“Derek, would you get Spencer something to eat from the cafeteria? Please?” you ask, levelling your friend with a pleading gaze.

Derek gathers himself up. “Sure. We gotta feed the string bean something, don’t we?” he asks.

Alone again, you draw lines up and down Spencer’s arm with your nails. You’re going to be indulgent in yourself, and ask him everything you’d ever wanted to know. And then a little extra, too.

“You’re not as skinny anymore, have you noticed? You’re quite lean.” You stand to sit where you’d put yourself before he confessed. Your hand falls to his knee. “Solid, sometimes. You and Derek go for walks occasionally.”

“We do?”

“Mm-hm. And me and you do yoga in the living room when we can summon the energy. We tried couples Pilates, but Pilates is hard.”

“We did?”

You smile warmly. “It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves in the same way.”

“How do you love?”

His ears are bitten-red. “Oh, you know. I’m too affectionate. It’s hard not to be with you. Everyone used to think we were… I don’t know, playing a game.” You slide your hand up his thigh, leaning on him to watch his pupils blow. “But I love you for far more than your constant propensity to blush. You get me flowers every time you see my favourites, and you never let me go to sleep without a kiss. Usually here.” You poke the skin beside your eye. “But sometimes you’ll surprise me and kiss my nose.” You're going lax with love, remembering things he’s done, and does every day. “On a Saturday morning we make tea and I put my hands in your t-shirt. You do the crosswords for fun. Sometimes we time them.”

“That’s not how you love, that’s what you love,” Spencer says.

“Oh, you want a play by play of things?” He ducks his chin, but he smiles when you laugh.

“I just can’t believe this is happening.”

You try to think of things you don’t think about anymore. “You love my sugar lip gloss, so I always wear it.”

He reaches out tentatively. Shy as a wren in a hedgerow. You let him curl a hand over your elbow, feel the crook of it with his index finger.

“I buy you stamps, and t-shirts for bed, and stupid stuff you wouldn’t get yourself. We’re… it’s like, it doesn’t feel like gift giving anymore because we’re always getting stuff for each other. You’re just as sweet, you know? When I first started sleeping over you bought me this huge pack of socks ‘cos yours are all odd,” you laugh. “I knew I loved you already, but…”

It’s a little sad, actually. He can’t remember all the stuff that makes you the couple you are. It’s not what you’d meant to get into.

“Can I ask you something?” you ask.

“Anything.”

He’s slept-in and breathless, like he ran laps in his dreams.

“What do you think of me now? I always wondered if you liked me back then, or if I just caught you off guard.”

“Who wouldn’t like you?”

“But did you?”

He looks away hurriedly, his hand dropping from your elbow. “I guess so. But it’s not– not real. I have a crush on you.” His mumbling is sweet. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that.”

“I had a crush on you, too, back then. It wasn’t anything serious, but it wasn’t a joke. And the more time we spent together, the more I thought we could fall in love,” —you take his hand and put it back on your arm— “and we did.”

You toy with his fingers. Without looking, ashamed of your own self-indulgence, you ask another question. “What do you think of me now?”

“I can’t remember,” he says sorrily.

“What do you think?”

“You feel like a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t really get how this is real.”

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’d say it, you practically begged for it, but you can’t stop yourself from sitting up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s real. Promise. And for the record, you’re handsome. They stopped saying ‘aged like fine wine’ a while ago. Now they just say ‘aged like Spencer Reid’.”

He gives a choky laugh.

The door opens again. You lift your head expecting Derek and find a weather worm Hotch in the doorway. “Reid, you’re awake,” he says, not bothering with a smile. “Morgan said you have amnesia?” He directs it at both of you.

Spencer’s looking at Hotch in clear shock.

“He hasn’t aged that badly,” you chastise teasingly.

“Hotch, you’re– I thought you would’ve– You’re still–?”

Hotch squints. “You didn’t think I had the stamina for it?”

Spencer squirms under his gaze. “No, sir, it’s not that–”

“Sir,” Hotch says, and then he smiles. “I forgot when you both used to respect me.”

“I have the utmost respect for you, sir,” you say through your own smile.

“Has she been kind to you, Reid?”

“Uh, yes? Is she not usually?”

Hotch presses his lips together rather than answer. There’s a sympathy in his expression you resent.

—

It’s a thankfully quick bout of amnesia. The memories start to draw in like a dusting of powdered sugar, his head finely silted, one particle at a time. He finds that the more you talk, the quicker his memory is jogged. You tell him about your first kiss —I tried to kiss your cheek but you moved, it was the funniest thing— and your second. You spin stories of cases, the worst ones and the best, all the times you held hands without people knowing, the times you’d been caught. He can’t imagine it, goes hot with the memory, picturing kissing you as you’d described and the mortification of being walked in on.

You tell him about your vacation to Nevada a few months ago and he thinks about how you’d fallen asleep on the plane. Your nose in his arm, your unhappy sigh at the tight leg space.

Remembering you is more than half of remembering himself.

Your hands —his hands. Your smile —his laugh. The way you fold his hands in your lap —the urge to catch your chin for a kiss.

He doesn’t know how to deal with it, and then suddenly he feels like Spencer. Your partner, your love, his proudest title for years. You’re standing at the end of the hospital bed in pajamas folding your clothes, allowed to stay the night while he’s so urgently confused and upset, you can’t make him stay here alone, please, I know you guys have those little cots for the kids ward, and he just knows you completely.

Hours of diligent if embezzled storytelling gives it all back to him.

“I like the lipgloss because you used to wear that perfume that smelled like sugar donuts,” he says, scratching a hand through limp hair. “And every time I crossed the square by the station–”

You let out a surprising squeal of joy. “Spencer!” you say, racing to take his hands, “Yes! The donut truck!”

You go in for a kiss he gladly returns. “Oh, you remember,” you say, softening as he takes your neck into his hand. “I was getting worried.”

“Some of it’s still hazy, but not so much you.”

You wrap your arms around him for a hug, careful of his sore head. “I missed you, Spencer. I still loved you when you couldn’t remember me, but I missed you. Do you remember you?”

He traces the scar on your lower cheek with his thumb. He’s genuinely relieved to be able to say he does. He’s not scared of what you think of him anymore, ‘cos he knows that everything he feels for you is mutual. “I remember you telling me my bad feeling was just a case of the heebies.”

You bend into his touch. “Honey, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know you’d get your skull whacked with a cinder block? It was a bakery. I thought the worst that could happen was getting a face full of red velvet or something.” You kiss his nose quickly. “I’m so glad you’re you. Now I can sleep in the bed with you, and not that collapsible camping cot.”

He shushes you. “Don’t give us away. They’re not gonna let you stay if they think I’m fine.”

You giggle excitedly, arms around him again for another squeeze. “I missed you so much. You’re so devious now.”

He rubs your back. “I missed you too. And I still have a crush on you, I swear.”

“Thank you, honey, that means a lot to me.”

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thanks for reading!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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joonie-beanie · 1 year ago

Text

Doctor's Orders | [Wriothesley x Reader]

Summary: “Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.” In which a simple tea time turns heated, and you get caught up in the consequence of Wriothesley not listening to his doctor. Content: Smut, Consensual Sex, Oral Sex, Aphrodisiacs, fem!reader Word Count: 7.9k

Sigewinne is evil.

You would have never suspected that such a tiny, cute body could contain so much malevolence. (Although, Sigewinne would personally argue that you’re confused, and that the word you’re looking for is actually benevolence. But, you digress.)

It all starts a few weeks into your employment at the Fortress of Meropide.

You’d spotted a job listing for a “personal assistant” in passing one day, and had immediately become interested thanks to the very generous salary listed on the paper. Seeing the job was located in Fontaine’s unofficial prison had, of course, caused you to have some second thoughts about applying, but at the end of the day, money is money.

Which is how you’d found yourself down on the ocean floor, waiting with a few other candidates outside the Duke’s office.

You’d be lying if you said that you weren’t nervous—waiting there to meet the head honcho of the prison. That when he stepped out to call you inside for your interview—all tall and beefy and scarred—your heart didn’t nervously flutter inside your chest.

…but to your surprise, he’s actually much softer than he appears.

“So,” he says, sitting down across from you at his desk. He folds his arms and smiles at you. “Why should I hire you? ”

Having been through this process before, you had immediately rattled off your qualifications and experiences. A few of which Wriothesley had proceeded to comment on and inquire about further. But it wasn’t until he asked—

“What benefit will I receive from picking you specifically?”

And you’d responded with—

“Errand girl.”

“What?”

“I can run errands for you. I’m sure the guards can be slow, going back and forth. But if you’re my direct employer, I can do whatever you want. Drop documents off, check in on things…pick up more tea.”

—that Wriothesley finally makes up his mind.

“Hmm. Very convincing.”

The next day, you receive a letter with the terms of your employment, and your official start date.

So, since then, you’ve been working for Wriothesley. Which is actually kind of…nice.

Your job mostly consists of going back and forth between the prison and the surface, so that Wriothesley can stay in the Fortress and better monitor his domain. The autonomy the job grants you is very rewarding, and in the same breath, Wriothesley also feels rewarded by how you take care of things without him needing to ask more than once.

Safe to say, the two of you get along.

…which Sigewinne notices.

You, of course, meet Sigewinne on your first day. Wriothesley makes a point of introducing you and showing you where the nurse’s office is located, in case you get hurt, or need to drop something off.

The human-like melusine enthusiastically welcomes you, and, at first, you see her as…someone sweet, and caring. A treasure of the prison.

However, over time, your opinion of her slowly starts to change.

Because she keeps looking at you. Specifically, whenever you’re standing next to Wriothesley.

“Why is she doing that?” you ask him one day, nudging him gently with your elbow. He immediately looks up from his meal, over to where Sigewinne is waiting in the lunch line, her pink eyes boring into you.

“She’s probably just double checking that you’re healthy,” Wriothesley responds, paying her no mind. “I often catch her staring at me, too. You must be growing on her.”

Despite his reassuring words, you can’t help but feel a little…put off…by the look in her eyes. Like she’s plotting something.

The second weird thing you notice is when you walk into the infirmary to drop off some herbs she’d asked for, and find her drawing. At first, you assume she’s doodling, since she seems kid-like a lot of the time.

But instead, when you lean over her shoulder and look, you see that she’s writing words. A big, black “DO NOT DISTURB”...with pink hearts and a few flowers drawn around it.

“What’s that for?” you ask her, forcing a smile.

“Oh! It’s just for a project I’m working on,” she responds, swiveling in her chair to face you. She happily kicks her feet, her eyes darting to the herbs you’re carrying with you.

“Ah, are those what I asked for? Thank you!”

You hand her the small bundle of dried flowers and grasses, watching as she immediately turns and places them on her desk next to some string, and cheesecloth.

“You’re welcome,” you respond, taking a small step backwards. “If that’s all, I’ll keep working on the rest of the tasks on my list—”

“Wait,” she says, grabbing your wrist. You instantly freeze, your eyes going wide as you turn back to face her. There’s a serious look on her face.

“How do you feel about Wriothesley?”

Her question makes your heart skip—heat rising on your skin.

“What?”

She doesn’t bother elaborating or giving you context, just waits for you to respond. You cough a little, feeling awkward, and wondering what kind of answer she’s looking for.

“Well…I mean. I think he’s a good boss. He’s friendly, and devoted to his job. He runs the prison well.”

Sigewinne nods, but doesn’t comment. Just keeps…staring.

Feeling pressured, you force yourself to think of more to say.

“Um…he’s deserving of his title and the respect he garners. I…enjoy speaking with him? Like when he invites me to partake in tea breaks. I dunno…he just kinda reminds me of a big, fluffy puppy. He looks scary but he’s actually pretty…cute, y’know?”

Finally, Sigewinne smiles. She takes your hand in her tiny ones, giving it a squeeze.

“Thank you for answering my question. You can go now.”

You blink at her dumbly, but nonetheless excuse yourself from the room.

Two days later, Wriothesley invites you to his office for tea. And to your surprise, when you walk in, you find Sigewinne waiting there as well.

“Thank you for coming!” she says as you enter the room. You flash her a smile, taking a seat in one of the open chairs around the table.

“Of course!”

“Sigewinne has a tea she wants us both to try,” Wriothesley explains, a fond look in his eyes as he watches the resident nurse flit around—pouring hot water into the teacups that have been set out.

You nod.

“I see.”

“Although, I don’t know why you won’t just steep the tea in the pot,” Wriothesley complains to her, just as Sigewinne places individual tea bags in each cup. “Are we not all being served the same tea?”

She cutely huffs.

“For your information, no we are not. Your and Y/N’s tea is unique.”

“Oh?” Wriothesley leans forward to look into the teacups as the colors from the herbs begin to bleed into the water. “What’s so unique about it?”

“You’ll see,” she responds with a playful look, one that causes Wriothesley to amusedly raise his eyebrows. However, he doesn’t say anything more—simply waiting for the tea to appropriately steep.

“...are you using the herbs I brought you?”

You can’t help but notice the smell wafting from the cup in front of you is a little familiar. Sigewinne nods.

“Wow! I’m surprised you noticed.”

“Ah, so this must be the reason you wanted me to lend you Y/N for a task the other day,” Wriothesley chimes in, his icy blue eyes once again shifting to Sigewinne.

“Do I get to know what herbs you requested Y/N to bring you, exactly?”

The resident nurse shakes her head, quietly laughing when Wriothesley sighs and deflates back into his chair.

“It’s meant to be a surprise! I want to see what you think about the taste without knowing the ingredients.”

“I suppose that’s fair.”

Folding your hands on your lap, the office descends into silence for a brief moment, the three of you intently watching the teacups in front of you. Then, Sigewinne finally claps her hands and declares—

“Okay, they’ve steeped long enough. Go ahead!”

“Finally,” Wriothesley happily mumbles, reaching forward to pick up the pristine little plate on which his cup of tea resides. He brings the cup to his nose, inhaling deeply, and then takes a tentative sip.

“Hmm…”

He frowns, his brows pinching as he tries to discern the flavors he’s tasting.

Curiosity getting the better of you, you take a sip from your own cup—wincing as the hot liquid accidentally burns your tongue.

“So?” Sigewinne prompts, staring excitedly between the two of you.

“It’s…pleasant,” you respond, clearly not as big of a tea connoisseur as the Duke. “It has a hint of sweetness.”

“It tastes like a Rainbow Rose smells,” Wriothesley adds, taking another sip. His gaze slides to you. “Did you pick some for her?”

You shake your head.

“No, I didn’t. Or…at least I didn’t pick any fresh ones. I did go to a vendor and purchase something in a bottle that looked like crushed, pink dust.”

Sigewinne cutely laughs.

“As expected of you, Your Grace. Yes, one of the ingredients is dried Rainbow Rose petals. Do you like it?”

Wriothesley makes a pleased sound.

“I do. The taste is light, but pleasant—like Y/N said.”

“Good! I want both of you to drink up.”

Sigewinne finally picks up her own tea, and you can’t help but notice the difference in color when compared to yours and Wriothesley’s. She really is drinking something different…but why?

“Aye aye, captain,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne laugh. You smile at the cute interaction between them, and have some more of your tea as well.

Together, the three of you engage in friendly conversation—catching up about recent topics while indulging in tea and a few different snacks that Wriothesley had pulled out for the occasion. As you drink, you can’t help but notice you feel…warm. A heat that spreads out from your stomach, and slowly creeps into your limbs.

You’ve never felt this way before but…maybe the tea is just extra hot today?

You glance up to Wriothesley and notice that he’s a little flushed as well. Which is…reassuring? You think. Since you’re obviously not the only one affected.

“Oh! Y/N!”

Sigewinne’s sudden call of your name draws you from your thoughts, and you look over at her. She smiles.

“I forgot to ask, but are you dating anyone?”

“Sigewinne,” Wriothesley gently scolds. He leans forward and sets his teacup on the table, the cup now empty.

His tone practically says “It’s not appropriate to ask questions like that” without actually saying it. Sigewinne pouts.

“Aww, c’mon. We’re all friends here! I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”

Hearing that the melusine considers you to be a friend, you decide to grace her with an answer—ignoring the tingling of the taste buds on your tongue.

“No, I am not seeing anyone,” you inform her with a polite smile. Sigewinne nods happily at your answer, which makes your smile waver.

Is she happy you’re single?? Ouch.

“Okay, good,” she says. “I’d feel a little bad, otherwise.”

You blink in confusion at her words, watching her as she pops off her chair and heads towards the door. Wriothesley raises an eyebrow at her.

There’s sweat beading on his brow.

“Where are you going?”

“Away,” she responds. “To give you two some privacy.”

You and Wriothesley glance at each other, mirroring each other’s confusion.

Your tummy starts to ache.

“Why are you leaving us alone, exactly?”

Stopping just in front of the office doors, Sigewinne turns on her heel to face the two of you. There’s a smug grin on her face.

“This is what happens when you don’t follow doctor’s orders.”

You frown, raising a hand to your chest, wondering why your heart is suddenly racing.

What’s this about doctor’s orders?

You glance over at Wriothesley…only to see that he’s frozen in shock—his eyes wide with realization.

His pants feel too tight.

“Sigewinne, you did not—”

There’s an edge to his voice when he speaks, his eyes narrowing. He plants his feet on the floor and prepares to stand and confront her, but before he can blink, Sigewinne has drawn her pistol—a tranquilizing bullet hitting him square in the chest, where a little patch of skin is showing.

He makes a noise of surprise, and quickly flops back into his chair to avoid falling on the floor—his limbs immediately going numb.

“Sigewinne!” you gasp. You’re not sure what’s going on, but the fact that she’d just shot Wriothesley is…

“It’s okay,” she says with a little sigh. “The effect will wear off in a few minutes. And…I’m sorry I scared you. Let me explain…”

She holsters her gun and smiles at you, trying to calm you down.

“As the nurse of the Fortress of Meropide, it is my duty to look after all residents, including Your Grace. And over the last few months, I’ve noticed him becoming more… irritable.”

“Sigewinne…,” Wriothesley mumbles, but the girl waves him off.

“After observing him for a while, I realized that his stress levels were getting high. And as his doctor, I recommended him a way to manage his stress, but he refused. He insisted tea was enough to soothe his nerves, but that’s simply not true. So…when you started working here, and I saw how well the two of you were getting along, I…got an idea.”

Sigewinne glances over at Wriothesley, noticing how he’s begun to shift his boots against the floor.

Her tranquilizers won’t be in effect much longer. They never work as well on people Wriothesley’s size…

So, she decides to cut to the chase.

Reaching into her pocket, Sigewinne pulls out the DO NOT DISTURB sign you’d seen her making the other day. She holds it in front of her, and beams at you.

“Simply put, the Duke needs to have sexual intercourse to relieve his tension. After watching the two of you and seeing you interact on both physical and intellectual levels, I determined that you would be ideal partners for each other. So, I invited the both of you to partake in an aphrodisiac made from the herbs you gathered for me.”

“You…you drugged us?” you gape, completely thrown by everything she’s just told you. She immediately gets defensive, her cheeks puffing.

“I medicated you,” she corrects. “And in the end, I’m only acting as a doctor. This all could have been avoided if Your Grace had just taken care of his own needs, as I’d insisted. Since he didn’t, I could only logically assume it's because it’s his preference to have a partner, rather than going at it solo. So, if you want to blame anyone for this, please blame him.”

“Sigewinne—”

Gripping the arms of his chair, Wriothesley breathes out a heavy sigh and begins to push himself up. You can’t help but notice his face is much redder now, and you’re not sure if it’s from embarrassment, the effects of the drugs, or both.

Seeing that Wriothesley has nearly regained his strength, Sigewinne hurries to exit his office.

“Anyway! The effects of the tea should wear off in a few hours, but only if you relieve yourselves. Otherwise, it will last much longer. So I suggest you let loose and indulge yourselves. You like each other! Enjoy this time!”

Wriothesley opens his mouth to say something, but his words catch in his throat the second Sigewinne opens his office door. He doesn’t want anyone outside of his office walls to hear him or know what’s going on.

“I’ll hang this sign on the door,” Sigewinne continues, her voice hushing. “So no one comes in while you two are…busy. Just remove it once you’re done, okay? Have fun!”

With a supportive little fist pump, Sigewinne then closes the door, leaving you and Wriothesley alone.

A few long beats of silence pass, then Wriothesley finally sighs.

"I…apologize for this. I never meant for you to get roped in."

You turn to look at him, only to find that he's standing with his back to you, his hand raising to rub at the back of his head.

You can see his muscles flexing as he does so, and you hate to admit that it causes the heat inside you to grow.

"It's…not your fault," you respond, laughing a little awkwardly. "I doubt it's easy to follow directions when your doctor tells you to jack off to rectify your hardass-ness."

Wriothesley glances at you over his shoulder.

"Have I been acting like a hardass?"

"You've been a little snippy at times," you tell him, smoothing your sweaty palms down your legs. Seriously, your clothes are starting to make you feel claustrophobic…

"Not to me, specifically. But I've noticed it towards some of the prison residents."

"Shit," he sighs, rubbing his temples. You continue to watch him, your eyes wandering the expanse of his back. For a second, you don't understand why he won't face you. Then it clicks.

"...are you…hard? Is that why you're not turning around?"

"It's…pretty bad," Wriothesley admits, his shoulder sagging in defeat. "I don't know what all was in that tea but…as an aphrodisiac, it's doing its job."

"Yeah…," you agree, swallowing heavily. You can feel wet arousal pooling on the fabric of your panties. His office has also started to feel like a sauna, but you're not sure if it's the air that's hot, or your body.

However, you're still not willing to breach the topic of "relief" with him. You haven't reached that level of desperation…yet .

So, you think of something else to carry the conversation in the meantime.

"So…Sigewinne said you like me?"

"Ah, you caught that."

He laughs a little, and begins pacing around the room, still careful to keep his back to you. You can't help but notice his stride is a little…impeded.

"If I'm being frank—yes, I do. You've been…a pleasure to have around, since I hired you. Actually, one of the reasons I picked you in the first place was because of how you acted during your interview. Most people are scared of me and therefore talk cautiously. You're certainly respectful, of course, but…you're a bit playful, as well. And I found that quality to be attractive."

"Ah, so I charmed you," you respond playfully. "Remind me to add that point to my resume later. "Managed to woo the Lord of the Fortress of Meropide". That sounds pretty good—"

"And there you go again," Wriothesley laughs. He steps behind the chair he'd been sitting in previously, and then finally turns to face you—the back of the chair tall enough that his lower half is out of sight.

"Although, if I recall her words correctly, Sigewinne stated that we "like each other". So, is there something you'd like to say as well?"

Your eyes go wide, and you feel more blood rush into your head. Wriothesley smiles, wide enough to show teeth.

"C’mon now. It's not fair that I praise you and get nothing in return."

You pout.

"To be fair, I didn't know why Sigewinne suddenly asked me what I thought of you…"

"That’s understandable, but still. I'd like to know what you told her."

Wriothesley maintains his playful demeanor, despite the way his knuckles begin to turn white at his sides—a deep-seated need slowly sinking its claws into him.

You sigh.

"I just…told her that you're a good boss, and are deserving of your titles and the respect you garner…"

You trail off, suddenly remembering the last thing you'd told Sigewinne during that conversation. Wriothesley clearly notices there's something you're leaving out, one of his eyebrows raising.

"And?"

You take a deep breath.

"That you're a cute puppy."

He blinks in shock.

"...excuse me?"

Oh god, you wanna phase through the floor.

"I said that even though you look scary, you're really just like a big…cute…puppy."

For a moment, Wriothesley can only stare at you. Then, he throws his head back and laughs.

Embarrassed, you plant your palms on your thighs and push to your feet, instinctively wanting to run away…only to realize that your legs have gone weak.

With a distraught noise, you flop back into your chair.

Out of the corner of his eye, Wriothesley notices.

He coughs, pulling himself back together.

"Well, I've certainly never heard myself described in such a way before. I can't say I totally hate it, but I'm not sure if I agree with the term "puppy"."

You force an awkward laugh, finally losing steam as the arousal inside you begins to cloud your thoughts. Sigewinne obviously wasn't messing around when making her aphrodisiac…you've never felt so horny before that it has literally hindered your mental and physical faculties.

The office is silent for a few tense moments, but finally, Wriothesley heaves a heavy sigh. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, his shoulders slumping as he hangs his head.

"You may revoke your good opinion of me, considering how inappropriate it is for a boss to even consider such a thing, but…I think my dick is gonna explode soon, so I'll just come out and ask."

You swallow, anticipating his next words.

"Would you be…interested in having sex?"

Your body shivers in excitement at the idea, the lustful part of your brain screaming at you to jump him already.

"I…would," you admit, managing to keep it together. Wriothesley's entire body jolts impatiently at your words, but he’s able to keep himself grounded.

"I don't think I'll be able to survive…this without some relief. And…I trust you. So…"

"So we're in agreement," Wrioslethely supplies, waiting for your confirmation. You nod your head.

"We are."

In the next beat, he's is crossing the space between you, a "thank god" barely making it past his lips before he crashes them into yours.

Immediately, you’re groaning into him—your arms wrapping around his neck and his hands finding the backs of your thighs. He lifts you from your chair easily—your chests pressing together as he holds you close.

You’ve always been acutely aware of how large Wriothesley is, but you don’t think it fully sinks in until now—as he manhandles you with ease, quite literally carrying you with one arm as the other sneaks beneath your shirt and tugs it over your head.

You’re forced to break the kiss as he does so, but the second the fabric has been discarded, you’re tangling your fingers in his hair and dragging him in for another.

Your action evokes a pleased little rumble inside his chest.

“You taste sweet,” he mumbles, his palm roaming over the exposed skin of your back. The warmth of his skin against yours makes you ache.

“It’s probably the aphrodisiac,” you reply breathlessly, a shiver raking your spine when you feel his fingers toy at the waistband of your pants.

“Hmm, shall we posit your theory?”

Before you can even think to ask what he means, the room is spinning—too many things happening at once. However, it’s nearly impossible to miss the feel of your pants being shucked down your legs.

When everything settles, you find that you’re no longer chest to chest with Wriothesley, but rather, face to dick.

“Wh—”

Your cheeks heat up as you finally digest the position he’s put you in—your ass in his face, and his crotch in yours—his body now firmly planted in a chair as he spreads his thighs and makes himself comfortable.

“Wriothesley!” you say in shock, your palms gripping his legs for support as you attempt to turn and face him. However, you quickly realize with the position he has chosen, you’re fairly helpless to do anything—completely at his mercy as he locks his arms around your legs and grips your ass in his hands.

“Hm?” he responds nonchalantly, one of his fingers slipping under the edge of your panties. You shift a little, trying to glare at him, but only succeed in having his clothed dick poke you in the cheek. He tenses at the sensation, and you feel his cock strain helplessly against the fabric of his pants—begging for more friction.

“I’m just testing your theory, like I said,” he continues, a surprised mewl tearing from your throat as he leans his head forward and nuzzles his nose in the damp fabric of your panties.

“If you think it’s the aphrodisiac making you sweet, let’s see if it’s also having that effect elsewhere—”

Before you can protest, Wriothesley is tugging the crotch of your underwear aside—his tongue licking a hot, languid strip between your folds. You gasp at the feeling, your nails digging into his thighs through the layer of clothes that he wears.

Above you, the Duke makes a pleased sound, repeating his previous action—noting the way your body writhes against his hold. His fingers grip your ass tighter, his brows furrowing as he presses his tongue inside your entrance—your arousal quickly coating his taste buds.

“Yep,” he mutters after a moment, his voice tight and his throat bobbing as he harshly swallows. “You taste…addicting.”

His words have your cunt squeezing around nothing, although he quickly dives back in and rectifies that problem—stretching your walls out around his tongue.

“Fuck…,” you pant, your head dropping as your strength wanes. Your muscles progressively start to feel like jelly, thanks to his ministrations. Especially, when he moves his mouth to your clit and begins rolling his tongue around it—a whine escaping you as the desire inside of you sears white hot.

And yet, despite the way Wriothesley presses on—groaning into your pussy as he eats you out—you’d be remiss to forget about the fact that he’s currently affected by the aphrodisiac as well, and has his own needs that need to be taken care of.

So, gathering what strength you have, you manage to push yourself up onto your forearms—your hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You frantically work open the button and zipper of his slacks, and then hook your fingers under the elastic of his underwear, tugging the band down.

…only to have his freed cock immediately spring up and smack you in the face.

Your eyes go wide, and in normal circumstances, you’d expect Wriothesley to laugh at the comedy of what has just occurred. However, too immersed in the way your cunt tastes and feels, and the way your body continues to twitch in his hold, he doesn’t even notice. And, too amazed by the sheer size of Wriothesley’s dick as you finally lean your head back and get a good look at him, you don’t bother saying anything.

No, instead you simply part your lips and take the head of his cock into your mouth—sucking lightly, your tongue teasing at his slit. The groan that’s immediately torn from his throat is involuntary—the sound becoming muffled by your pussy as he momentarily stops to savor the feeling of your mouth on his dick—your tongue flattening on the underside of his shaft as you slowly take more of him into your mouth.

Then, he goes back to eating you out with renewed fervor—your eyes nearly rolling back into your skull when he sucks at your clit.

The room quickly fills with the sound of sloppy and messy oral, your head bobbing up and down Wriothesley’s cock. Saliva drips down his length, his pre-cum smearing against your tongue, and you can’t help but moan.

Everything feels so good—from Wriothesley’s tongue on your cunt, to the way his cock fills up your mouth…

“Fuck,” Wriothesley growls. His fingers move to pull at the folds of your pussy, spreading you open wider. You can feel his hot breath on your skin as he moves his mouth back to your clit, where he then stays—his tongue flicking rhythmically against the sensitive bundle of nerves.

The pace and motion he settles on is one that you know will very quickly damn you, and he figures this out as well based on the way your thighs begin to shake in his grasp. Your body attempts to jolt away from him—trying to escape the onslaught of pleasure he intends to give—but he leaves no wiggle room. He holds you tighter, enjoying the feeling of your mouth on his cock, and how your efforts slowly start to crumble along with your sanity.

“I…,” you mumble the word around dick, trying to warn him of the orgasm you can feel quickly approaching. Your entire body swims with arousal, your head feeling light.

“Keep going, sweetheart,” he pants. “Let’s cum together.”

You feel his cock throb against your tongue, and, dutifully, you do your best to continue sucking him off—your lips once again suctioning around his shaft. Your actions immediately evoke a pleased groan from the Duke, and you feel his thighs tense in your grasp—his own orgasm quickly approaching.

However, despite your best efforts to continue, everything falls apart the second your climax finally crests.

With a cry, you come undone—your body writhing in his hold. You go brainless almost immediately, the strength in your arms wavering, and Wriothesley’s cock stuffing into your cheek—your hot breath fanning over his length.

Luckily, the vulgarity of the entire situation is enough to push Wriothesley over the finish line—his dick painting the inside of your mouth with his cum. And to his surprise, once he’s spent, you actually pull your head back, close your lips, and swallow.

Shit, he thinks.

His dick is just starting to soften, and yet somehow, it’s also already getting hard again.

There’s a few beats of quiet that are filled only with the sound of you and Wriothesley panting. Then, once he’s caught his breath, he says—

“Let’s get you right side up.”

—and the world spins again.

Honestly, the fact that he can manhandle you this easily is criminal.

“You okay?” he asks, sitting you on one of his thighs. He brushes a few stray hairs from your face, staring at you with a hint of concern.

You nod your head, grateful that the carnal desire you’ve been afflicted with is clearly less, now that you and Wriothesley have both gotten off. But…even despite that, you still feel hot and tingly. Like you want more.

You glance down at his lap.

“Mmm. Seems like you’re in the same predicament as me.”

“Think you can handle another round?” he asks. You meet his eyes, playfully raising your eyebrows.

“I’m almost tempted to say no, and see what you do.”

Wriothesley rolls his eyes, his hands grabbing your waist, and in the next moment, you find yourself slung over his shoulder.

“Hey—!” you protest, attempting to look at him, but he only caresses your ass with his free hand.

“If you have that much spunk left in you, you can handle another round,” he says, carrying you down the nearby staircase, to the floor below his office. “But, I’ll be kind this time and make you more comfortable.”

His boots echo against the metal floor as he walks, and for a second, you wonder where exactly he’s taking you. But, soon after, Wriothesley pushes through a nearby door, and you find yourself in a moderately sized bedroom.

It must be his, you realize, feeling a little silly that you’d never pondered before now where the Master of the prison actually sleeps.

“Here we are.”

Wriothesley gently deposits you onto his bed, and then immediately reaches for his tie. You watch him with bated breath, your heart doing a tiny flip as you realize that he’s finally stripping out of his clothes. He opts to leave on the leather belts encircling his arms and neck, instead focusing the bulk of his time on shedding his suit, and undoing the many buckles on his boots.

By the time he’s finished—his erect cock once again sitting heavy between his legs—you’re practically drooling at the sight of him.

His lips twitch into a little smile.

“I’m happy to know that you like what you see. However, in the time I spent undressing myself, you couldn’t be bothered to remove what little clothing you have left? C’mon now, are you waiting for me to wrestle you out of them?”

Still feeling cheeky, you flash him a grin.

“Hm, I’d like to see you try.”

Wriothesley immediately cocks an eyebrow, his eyes glinting at the challenge you’ve just issued, and your attitude wavers, realizing what it is you’ve done. You open your mouth to say you’re only teasing—your hands already raising behind your back to undo the clasp of your bra—but it’s too late.

In one swift motion, Wriothesley grabs your ankle and twists you onto your stomach—his weight settling above you as he kneels onto the bed. You shiver when his knuckles brush against your skin—his fingers swiftly undoing your bra.

“You’re just a little brat, aren’t you…”

He speaks the words fondly, with a hint of amusement, and yet, they still go straight to your cunt.

“Don’t say things like that,” you respond, instinctively raising your hips when Wriothesley hooks his fingers on your underwear and begins tugging them down your thighs. He stares intently at your backside as he does so, an idea popping into his mind.

“Why? Because you like it too much?”

He discards your panties on the floor along with the rest of the clothes you’d both shed, and then grabs your knees, forcing you to spread your legs, so he can properly settle between them.

Another blush rises on your face at his words, your tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. At your lack of response, Wriothesely continues.

“In my understanding, brats tend to like it a little rougher, so…”

His hands ghost up your thighs, to your hips, and he grips you tightly—forcing your lower half off the bed until you’re propped up on your knees—his cock sitting heavy against your ass.

“...what say we continue like this, hm?”

Bracing yourself on your forearms, you turn your head back to look at him—your body tensing as you watch him fist his cock and drag it downward, between the lips of your pussy.

His icy eyes catch yours.

“Any objection?”

“...no,” you mumble, your fingers anticipatedly fisting in the sheets.

Wriothesley nods—

“Good.”

—and then presses the head of his cock inside you.

Immediately, you drop your forehead against the mattress—willing your body to relax for him as he slowly inches inside of you.

His tongue had certainly been enjoyable, but this? Fuck. Nothing compares to the sensation of him slowly stuffing you inch by inch—the girth of his cock positively delicious as he forces your cunt to stretch to accommodate him.

It’s so much that by the time he’s fully seated inside of you, your body is shaking—your breath coming out in quick, desperately little pants.

Seeing your reaction, Wriothesely soothes a hand up your spine, his warm palm settling between your shoulder blades. He decides to start slow—to give you a little more time to adjust to him.

And honestly, he’d love to take his time in general—to really savor the sight of you beneath him, your cunt swallowing his cock so perfectly, but alas. The effects of the aphrodisiac make him impatient with need, and it’s not long before he’s moving faster—little gasps and whines finding their way past your lips as he begins fucking you back onto his cock.

“Ahh…seriously you’re…so fucking tight,” he curses. His fingers dig into the plush of your hip—his jaw clenching, and his racing heart pumping lust through his veins.

Your cunt clamping on his dick seriously might be his personal slice of heaven.

“Wrio, I—,” you can’t even get the words out, your brain short-circuiting. You can’t think straight anymore—not with his cock rubbing you in all the right spots, making a mess of your insides, and quickly rocketing you towards another—

Wait, no, it’s only been a minute—!

“Fuck! ”

You choke the word out, your spine curving and your knuckles turning white as your second orgasm of the night is unexpectedly forced out of you—your pussy spasming around Wriothesley’s dick.

The last of your strength officially drained, you collapse forward onto the mattress, your cheek smushing into the covers.

…however, Wriothesley doesn’t allow your lower half to fall along with the rest of you—his hold on your hips keeping your twitching pussy firmly planted on his still-hard dick.

“We’re not done yet, sweetheart,” he reminds you, his cock continuing to languidly drag between your walls, drawing out the tail end of your pleasure.

You can’t help but whimper at his words, already feeling a bit oversensitive thanks to two consecutive orgasms. Wriothesley does his best to soothe your frayed nerves.

Leaning over you, he gently tangles his fist in your hair—coaxing your head off the mattress so he can kiss you.

The kiss is messy, but sweet—the angle of your bodies forcing his cock deeper inside of you, his hips completely flush against your ass.

“You’re doing so good,” he tells you, peppering a trail of kisses against your cheek, and across your jaw. His praise causes you to whimper, a shiver raking up your spine when his tongue drags across your skin—his teeth nipping at the nape of your neck.

His actions successfully get you to relax—your body becoming more pliable in his grasp as he once again begins to move. And soon enough, the wet sound of sex fills his bedroom once more.

Wanting to help him cum (and to feel his seed fill you), you do your best to help Wriothesley along—purposefully flexing the walls of your pussy as he fucks you. However, in doing so, you accidentally start yourself down the path of yet another orgasm…

Feeling the familiar, aching pleasure beginning to build inside of you once again, you quickly stop what you’re doing. You think that a third orgasm honestly might kill you, but…it’s too late.

Wriothesley has already noticed your growing arousal, and decides that he likes it better when the two of you cum together.

So, he sneaks one of his hands between the apex of your legs, and begins rubbing at your clit.

The garbled, desperate cry that leaves your mouth immediately becomes seared in his mind for a long time to come.

“No, Wrio, I…I can’t. I—”

Your words come out jumbled, tears beading on your lash line.

Momentarily removing his hand from your clit, he once again reaches forward and grips your hair—pulling your head back so he can kiss you. His lips swallow up your worries.

“You can,” he insists, his voice whispering in your ear, and his hot breath fanning over your skin.

“I want you to cum with me, pretty girl. You can do it.”

You give no protest aside from a cute little whine, and that's good enough for Wriothesley.

Releasing your hair, his hand finds your clit once more.

He then proceeds to fuck you into the mattress—pursuing his orgasm with abandon. A groan leaves his mouth at the way your pussy starts clamping on his dick once again—tightening up with each pass of his fingers across your clit—your pussy slick and messy with your own arousal.

Unable to think straight, you can only hold on for dear life—clinging to his sheets like a lifeline. You can’t even process the sounds that are coming out of your own mouth—a damned, desperate symphony moans.

To Wriothesley, it all sounds like a siren's cry—beckoning him closer to the edge.

“Shit,” he pants, feeling his cock throb, and his balls tighten. The motion of his fingers on your clit quickens—your toes curling as the coil of pleasure in your tummy continues to wind—so close to snapping.

Sweat beading on his brow, Wriothesley leans forward, curling his body against yours. His teeth nip at the shell of your ear, his husky voice sending goosebumps across your skin.

“So good for me…,” he breathes, his hips smacking into your ass. His broad strokes deteriorate into needy rutting, and the sensation has you quite literally sobbing—his cock now incessantly grinding into your g-spot.

You can’t take it anymore.

Shoving your face into the mattress, you bite the sheets and scream—your entire body shaking as you cum for a third time, your cunt milking around Wriothesley’s cock.

He curses at the feeling, his face burying in your neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he hugs you to his body—fucking inside of you a few more times before finally joining you in ecstasy.

His teeth sink into you as his orgasms peaks, a heady groan muffled against your skin as his balls empty—pumping you full of his cum.

It’s not until the intensity of his pleasure has died down that Wriothesley ultimately releases you from his hold—your lower half immediately flopping down onto the bed, and his softening cock slipping out of you.

The Duke takes a moment to simply look at you, and how fucked out you are. Your eyes bleary, skin flushed, and the imprint of his teeth engraved in your flesh.

He grunts at the sight, and settles in beside you—his arm curling around your waist as he tugs you back against him. His tongue immediately begins lapping at the bite mark he’d inflicted, attempting to soothe the sting.

After a few seconds, you begin shaking, and Wriothesley immediately pauses, scared that he’s hurt you in some way.

…only to realize that you’re laughing.

“...puppy…”

He props himself up, glancing at you.

“What?”

“You really are like a puppy,” you giggle, your finger lifting to brush a stray tear from your eye. “The way you bit me, and then immediately started licking at it in apology. So cute…”

You break into another tiny fit of laughter, and Wriothesley rolls his eyes, yet can’t help cracking a smile.

“Well, I’m glad to know I didn’t break you, at the very least.”

His hand rubs against your waist.

“...right?”

Finally getting ahold of yourself, you roll onto your back and smile at him, your hand reaching out to cup his cheek. He immediately leans into your touch, and it makes your heart flutter.

“I’m not broken, no. Just…sore. And gross. And sweaty.”

Wriothesley chuckles.

“Well, I think I can rectify some of those issues. I do have a bathroom, with a tub.”

“Wow,” you respond, watching him as he scoots to the edge of the mattress and gets to his feet. He waits a second for you to join him, but you don’t move.

“My…limbs feel like jello,” you admit, raising your arm and flopping it back down bonelessly for emphasis. Wriothesley rolls his eyes, but nonetheless leans over the bed and scoops you into his arms.

You rest your cheek against his chest, admiring for the first time how soft it really is.

“Whatever shall I do with you,” he playfully sighs, carrying you into the adjacent bathroom. He sets you on the vanity, moving over to the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. You hum.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things you can do. The first of which is helping me into the bath once it’s ready.”

Wriothesley quietly chuckles. Returning to your side, he takes your hand, and brings it to his lips.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Once the tub has filled, the Duke keeps true to his word—once again carefully cradling you in his arms as he seats himself in the tub basin, before positioning you in the space between his legs.

The steaming water immediately soothes the ache of your body, and you sigh in relief—sinking back against Wriothesley’s body. He lightly wraps one arm around your waist, the other resting on the edge of the tub.

For a few long minutes, the two of you bask in silence, simply enjoying the refreshing feel of the bath.

…then, you start to notice something beginning to grow—pressing at your back.

“...really? Is the aphrodisiac still getting to you that much?”

“No,” he admits after a beat, leaning forward to kiss your neck. “I think this one is actually all me.”

You roll your eyes, but nonetheless crane your head to the side—allowing him access to more of your skin as his mouth begins to wander.

“I thought I made it clear that my limbs are jello right now.”

“I can work with that,” he responds, and you feel him grin. His hand slowly trails down your stomach, and between your legs.

“I’ll do all the work. You just get to make pretty sounds and feel good.”

His fingers slide between the folds of your pussy, and you jolt as he passes over your overly-sensitive clit. But seriously…how are you going to say no to him?

“What am I going to do with you?” you sigh, echoing his earlier words. His chest rumbles with laughter, and he grabs your chin with his free hand—turning your head so he can kiss you.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things.”

The next morning, you find yourself in a back in your clothes, standing beside Wriothesley just inside his office door.

“I’ll go first,” you say, to which he nods. “I have some errands to run anyway. You can wait a minute and then come out after me.”

“Sounds good.”

The two of you stare at each other for a second, before you finally square your shoulders, and reach for the door handle.

Before you can twist it, Wriothesley catches your wrist. When you look back at him, you find that there’s a blush on his cheeks.

“So, I’ll…see you later?”

His suddenly bashful demeanor causes you to smile. Pressing onto your toes, you cup his cheeks and softly kiss him. He immediately grabs your waist—deepening the kiss.

“You’ll see me later,” you promise.

With that, the two of you finally separate, and you disappear through his office door.

Wriothesley takes a deep breath at your departure, combing a hand through his hair as he waits for the right moment to make his own exit.

To be safe, he decides to wait a good few minutes. But finally, he opens his door—preparing to venture into the main area of the fortress, and make his normal rounds.

…however, he only makes it a step before remembering the sign Sigewinne had made.

With a sigh, he immediately backtracks and tears the DO NOT DISTURB sign off of his door, crumpling it between his palms.

When he turns back around, he nearly jumps—Sigewinne standing right in front of him.

“So,” she says, a pleased grin on her face. “How’d it go?”

Narrowing his eyes, Wriothesley only stares ahead, and walks past her. She easily follows after him.

“The fact that you’re out and about this early in the day means something likely happened between you and Y/N.”

“No comment,” Wriothesley responds, which makes Sigewinne giggle. They pass by a few prisoners as Wriothesley makes a B-line for the elevator to the production zone. Once there, Sigewinne squeezes herself in along with him.

As the elevator begins to descend, only a few seconds pass in silence, before Sigewinne asks one last question.

“As your doctor, it’s my recommendation that you continue to regularly relieve your stress. So, are you going to be dutifully carrying out my orders from now on?”

Wriothesley makes a little face, glancing away from her.

“...maybe.”

Sigewinne smiles.

That’s good enough for her.

[A Dragon's Constitution] ->

#wriothesley x reader #wriothesley smut #wriothesley genshin #genshin fic #bean fic #fic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin smut

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