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pesterloglog · 1 year ago

Text

Rose Lalonde, Dave Strider

Act 5, page 3036-3044

-- tentacleTherapist [TT] began pestering turntechGodhead [TG] --

TT: Hi there.

TG: nak nak nak

TT: Don't mind me.

TT: I'm just waiting for that guy on the pile of sharp objects to wake up.

TG: THE GLASSES ARE TALKING AGAIN

TG: naknaknaknaknaknaknaknaknaknaknaknaknaknak

TT: If you don't stop nakking, I will turn you into a thorn bush.

TG: :V

TG: :(

TG: hey

TG: what just happened

TT: You fell asleep.

TT: Orange Bird Dave killed some monsters and flew away.

TT: Jade fired a bullet at an imp and vanished.

TT: And you woke up.

TG: oh yeah

TG: so shes here then

TT: Yes.

TG: is she ok what was going on there

TT: Yes, she's fine.

TG: i guess i should catch up with her

TT: You already are.

TG: i am

TT: Future you is.

TG: oh ok time travels involved

TG: thats all you needed to say everythings cool and under control then

TT: How was the nap?

TG: weird

TG: and kind of boring

TG: i was in your dream room for a while spying on you

TG: being all creepy and dream duplicitous and shit

TT: It's ok.

TT: I was being similarly wake duplicitous.

TG: whats with your book collection

TG: or

TG: dream book collection

TG: all your books are bizarre and terrible

TT: No, my books are great.

TT: I can recommend some good titles for the next time you're asleep.

TG: nah

TG: but yeah i understand defending your collection i guess if you were in my dream room and talking shit about my awesome dream portraits of dream stiller and dream snoop or whatever wed have to have a fucking talk

TT: Did you do anything on the moon besides rifle through my belongings?

TT: Such as remove your shades and turn your gaze Ringward, by any chance?

TG: oh

TG: yeah

TG: i did

TT: What did you see?

TG: horrible things

TT: Horribleterrible?

TG: yeah

TG: it was like

TG: peering through the dark portal of an eldritch red lobster

TG: and scoping out its all you can eat seafood buffet

TG: and

TG: when i saw them

TG: their voices became clearer

TT: What were they saying?

TG: i couldnt really focus on anything specific

TG: but

TG: in totality

TG: im pretty sure it was

TG: like

TT: ?

TG: a plea for help

TT: That's good.

TG: no it was disturbing

TG: so i slapped my shades back on

TG: went and perved up some sleeping girls room to take my mind of it

TT: It means they're reaching out to you.

TG: oh god why would i want that

TG: im not about to get molested by calamari with fucking teeth

TG: use your powers and like

TG: stroke a mummys paw or some horseshit and open a dark channel

TG: tell them to keep their lecherous flagella to themselves

TT: You're going to have to help them.

TT: Even if you don't like them.

TT: They're being massacred.

TT: Presently, already, and still to come.

TG: whats that mean

TT: It means time doesn't work rationally out there.

TT: Nor does space.

TT: But that doesn't change the reality of the threat.

TG: who cares if theyre getting killed

TG: theyre hideous and obnoxious

TT: You're underestimating the nature of the threat.

TT: At this point, the threat isn't to our session, or any given universe.

TT: It's to the perpetuation of reality itself.

TT: You wouldn't be saving them, per se.

TT: You'd be saving everything.

TG: oh ok cool

TT: They've revealed some of their secrets to me already, and given me a few errands to run.

TT: This is why you might have observed some unusual behavior from me.

TG: oh shit youre kidding

TG: no really are you serious i didnt even notice

TG: fuck mind = blown

TT: Once these convulsions of explosive laughter subside and finish rocking my very foundation,

TT: I might point out that you haven't really been as astute as you're implying.

TT: You've deliberately fogged your vision your entire life with ironic eyewear while awake, and while asleep, though perfectly alert, you've chosen to ignore your surroundings.

TT: But now that you've seen them, you have a choice to make.

TG: ok

TT: They will only tell me so much.

TT: They would like an audience with the prince of the moon as well.

TT: We are like the emissaries to what lies beyond this small bubble in their unfathomable dark foam.

TT: Derse skirts its edge, and during the lunar eclipse, we graze it, and that's when their intent for us becomes clear.

TT: I'm doing my part, but they have a mission for you as well.

TG: what am i supposed to do

TT: Listen to them.

TT: My understanding is,

TT: They will teach you how to navigate the unnavigable.

TT: The result should be a map.

TG: like

TG: a treasure map

TT: No.

TT: Something a little more astronomical.

TT: Like a star chart with no stars.

TT: Hence the challenge.

TG: why

TT: To plot a course through the Furthest Ring.

TG: plot a course to what

TT: The power source of the first guardians.

TG: oh right the green sun ok

TG: wait sorry

TG: i mean the Green Sun my bad

TT: Yes, that's much better.

TG: whats the deal with this thing

TG: i mean aside from giving jades dog his devil powers

TG: and by extension i guess jack

TT: What's the deal with it?

TG: yeah

TT: I don't know that there is a deal with it.

TT: Beyond the deal you just described.

TT: It is what it sounds like.

TT: A huge sun out in the literal middle of nowhere, and it is bright green.

TT: It is simply,

TT: The Green Sun.

TG: how big

TG: i need a sense of scale here

TG: is it like the size of our sun

TG: or bigger

TG: or is it only as big as like

TG: planet fucking jupiter

TT: It is nearly twice the mass of our universe.

TG: ok thats pretty fucking big

TG: see how important that contextualization was now i know how fucking impressed i should be

TG: i mean hopy shit thats huge

TT: Happy I could help.

TG: so ok i make a map to this thing

TG: with the help of a million rambunctious gross tentacle mutants

TG: and then i guess we go there for some reason

TT: Yes.

TG: why do we need a map

TG: cant they just

TG: tell us what direction its in

TG: point a spaceship that way

TG: blast off to adventure

TT: No.

TT: The geometry of the Furthest Ring is too complex.

TT: Remember, its spacetime is labyrinthine.

TT: In fact, it's not really accurate to call it spacetime at all.

TT: Since it is outside the domain of any created universe, where those properties have become instantiated and stabilized.

TG: i can kind of get that time is messed up there

TG: with like loops and causality paradoxes and shit like that

TG: being the knight of time here

TG: not really sure why navigating the space would be a problem though

TG: space isnt my thing remember

TG: what is it like

TG: full of wormholes or something

TT: It depends.

TT: The greater the distance you travel through it, the less reliably time flows.

TT: And the more time you spend in it, the less reliably space behaves.

TT: Time and space aren't as different as you might think.

TG: i thought you werent supposed to know shit about either

TG: seeing as youre the seer whatever that means

TT: I think it means I'm supposed to know shit about the big picture.

TT: Which includes tidbits like that.

TT: But the insides of my shoes stay free from the grit of the minutia.

TG: fair enough

TG: so i take my map and fly to this thing

TT: No, I do.

TG: ok you fly to it

TG: then what

TT: That depends on if John is successful.

TG: you mean with the quest youre sending him on

TT: Yes.

TG: is there anything you do thats not sending dudes on quests

TT: Nothing whatsoever.

TG: so hes got to get the cancer out of skaia right

TT: Yes, The Tumor.

TG: yeah

TG: so whats The Tumor do

TG: i mean the tumor

TG: jesus can we stop with the fancy colored text bullshit

TT: I guess so.

TT: I thought it was more fun that way.

TG: well ok you can keep doing it then

TT: Thanks.

TT: The Tumor is quite a large growth at the center of the battlefield.

TT: He won't be able to remove it without fully realizing his abilities.

TG: ok cool what is it

TT: Can you promise you won't tell him?

TT: It would probably make him more nervous than he needs to be if he knew.

TG: ok i wont say anything

TG: just tell me

TT: It's a bomb.

TT: It is set to detonate precisely when the reckoning ends.

TT: This is how long we have to put this plan into motion.

TG: what the hell is a bomb doing in there

TT: It could be a feature of any session not meant to bear fruit.

TT: A means to wipe out a null session rather than leaving it lingering in paradox space for eternity.

TT: Or it could be a mutation specific to our session.

TT: I really don't know.

TG: first time for everything i guess

TG: seriously whered you get all this info

TG: did you get it all from the gods

TG: are these just a bunch of orders youre following

TT: Not exactly.

TT: They've urged me in certain directions and guided my exploration.

TT: I've obtained some answers from them, but ultimately, this idea is mine.

TT: Plus, I have other sources.

TT: One in particular has been quite illuminating.

TG: what

TT: I've been referring to him as an informant, when people ask.

TT: Which isn't often.

TG: what you mean a troll

TT: No.

TT: It's a man who exists in another universe.

TT: He wants to die.

TG: sounds like a really credible dude sign me up for trusting everything he says

TT: Only as credible as the omniscient tend to be.

TG: oh so he knows everything

TT: Yeah, I think that's what omniscient means.

TT: But maybe I'll ask him about that, since he's the omniscient one.

TG: even if he is omniscient which he probably isnt what if hes just lying

TT: He says he doesn't lie.

TT: For some reason, I believe him about that.

TT: He's a convincing fellow.

TG: whys he want to die

TT: He no longer has a purpose now that he's done everything required to summon his master.

TT: As a first guardian, he's completely indestructible.

TT: Well, almost completely.

TG: wait

TG: what

TT: His power is derived from the same source as Earth's guardian.

TT: And conveniently, that of our nemesis as well.

TG: ok i get it now

TT: When John delivers the tumor,

TT: And I do mean The Tumor,

TT: I and I alone will navigate the Furthest Ring.

TT: And I will destroy the sun.

TT: By which I do mean the GREEN MOTHER FUCKING SUN.

TT: And in case it wasn't clear,

TT: I won't be coming back.

TG: whoa fuck

TG: a suicide mission are you serious

TG: no bullshit thats not happening

TG: hey look suddenly everything we just talked about was useless because its time to make a plan that doesnt fucking suck

TT: Let's not be so dramatic.

TT: I was talking about my dream self.

TT: She's the one who won't be returning.

TG: oh

TG: haha yeah thats fine i guess

TG: those fuckers are all kinds of mad expendable

TG: way to leave me hanging there

TG: for someone whos saying lets cool it on the drama the whole i wont be coming back thing is a pretty theatrical bombshell

TG: for future reference

TT: That's true.

TT: Your outburst was pretty sweet though.

TG: yeah i know

TG: so when do i do my thing

TG: make this map

TG: which i guess is just like

TG: a solid black piece of paper

TG: this is going to be fucking stupid isnt it

TT: If there's one thing you have more than any of us, it's time.

TT: So, whenever you like.

TT: As long as conventionally speaking, it's quite soon.

TG: alright

TG: so

TG: dog it as long as possible

TG: then travel back to about now and go to sleep

TT: Sure.

TT: And if you have trouble going to sleep, maybe you can ask your patron troll to trick the telepathic one into putting you to sleep again.

TG: what

TT: Each of us seems to have a troll infatuated with helping us. Haven't you noticed?

TG: no

TT: What about the psychopath who's currently helping you?

TG: oh yeah terezi

TG: no shes cool

TT: Isn't that camaraderie blossoming into some sort of interspecies whatever?

TG: its blossoming into an interspecies partnership in incredibly shitty cartooning

TG: what do you mean get her to trick someone into putting me asleep again

TG: when did that happen

TT: Just now.

TG: who did that

TT: That would be John's patron troll.

TG: god

TG: fuckin trolls

TG: too many of them who can even keep track of this shit

TG: which ones yours

TG: is it the absurd juggalo one that would be hilarious

TT: There's a juggalo one?

TG: yeah see what i mean

TT: She's contacting me now actually.

TG: oh ok

TG: well im suddenly not interested so go talk to your fairy god troll

TG: ill be over here paving the way for your elaborate dream suicide

TG: when i feel like getting around to it i mean

TT: Thanks.

TG: later

-- turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] --

#homestuck #rose lalonde #dave strider #homestuck act 5 #page 3036 #page 3037 #page 3038 #page 3039 #page 3040 #page 3041 #page 3042 #page 3043 #page 3044 #homestuck act 5 act 2

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happy74827 · 25 days ago

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White Lies

[Spencer Reid x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You have constantly lied to your mother about your private life, as she was one to disapprove of everything, but those "harmless lies" become a lot more serious when you forget to cancel plans with your closest friend.

WC: 3036

Category: Fluff, Fake Dating, Sassy!Reid {TW: Reader’s mom is Authoritarian}

Another drafted idea that I finally wrote up because Spencer is the definition of pookie, and you cannot change my mind. This is also a dedication to my girl, @yoursacredqueenmother, for matching my crazy delulu fantasies 🫶💖

『••✎••』

Your mom has always been a force of nature—a whirlwind of opinions, expectations, and unsolicited advice that sweeps through your life like a hurricane. She’s the kind of woman who believes she knows what’s best for you, even when you’re pretty sure she doesn’t. Ever since you turned 30 last year, her visits have become more frequent, and her nagging has reached a fever pitch.

"You’re getting old, sweetheart," she’d say, her voice dripping with concern that felt more like judgment. "You need to settle down, find a nice man, start a family. I’m not going to be around forever, you know."

The words were always delivered with a smile, but they stung like a slap. You love her, you really do, but her constant pressure makes you feel like you’re failing at some unspoken test of womanhood.

So, to get her off your back, you’d started lying. Little white lies at first—"I’m seeing someone, Mom, it’s just early stages"—but they quickly snowballed into more and more elaborate fibs. Soon, you were telling her that you were dating a doctor who wanted nothing more than to start a family with you but was waiting for the right time.

It was easier to make up a fictitious doctor than to explain the real reason you were still single.

Because the truth is that the man of your dreams is already in your life, he's been here for years, and he's always been the perfect friend. The problem is that he's a little hard to read. You have no idea how he feels about you or if he sees you as more than a friend.

You'd tried to tell him how you felt about him before, but the words had stuck in your throat. He’d seemed so confused, so shocked by the mere suggestion of romance. Maybe he just didn't see you that way. Maybe you’d ruin your friendship by even mentioning the idea.

This led to where you are now: alone, frustrated, and trying to figure out how to keep your mother from butting into your personal life. You’d thought maybe she’d drop the issue after your birthday, but she’d come by to "surprise you" last night and is now currently sitting at the kitchen table, looking around your apartment with an expression of vague disappointment.

"Honey, you’re an adult now," she says, not looking up from her coffee cup. "You can’t keep living like this."

She gestures at the living room, which is scattered with discarded letters and half-read books. The mess is a symptom of the chaos in your head as you’ve been too preoccupied with thoughts of him to worry about cleaning up after yourself.

"It’s not that bad," you mumble, though you know it is. Even he’d commented on the state of your apartment when he’d last stopped by, and his place is usually worse than yours. Messy, not dirty. He’s a bit of an organized hoarder.

"Well, maybe not for a single girl," she sighs. "But what if Doctor Whoever comes over? Don’t you want to impress him?"

You bite your lip, trying to keep your temper in check. This is the problem with your mother—she has a habit of steamrolling over your feelings, and you've never been able to stand up to her. You’d thought you were done having this argument when you turned 30. Apparently, you’d thought wrong.

"Mom," you begin, your voice firm. "I told you, he doesn't care about stuff like that. He's more concerned with things like—"

The doorbell rings, interrupting you mid-sentence. Thank God. You’re not sure what you would have said, but any excuse is better than none. You figured it was the mailman, late with that package you’d been expecting, but when you just so happen to glance at the calendar (the one your father bought you last Christmas, with pictures of cats wearing hats), your stomach drops.

March 21st, which may not seem important, and it really isn’t, unless you look closer and realize that the cat in the picture is wearing a lab coat and is holding a beaker. Because that, my friends, is not just a picture. It is a reminder.

The one thing you had not wanted to forget.

The one thing, apparently, you had forgotten.

You’d been so busy trying to avoid your mother’s questions about your non-existent boyfriend that you’d completely lost track of time. The calendar sits there, taunting you, and all you can think is:

Oh, no.

Because the person who had rang the doorbell? It was him. He and his adorable grin, hazel-like eyes, and messy brown hair. He probably even brought a bag of those terribly expensive chocolates you love.

You want to cry. Of course, it had to be that day, the day of all days, the day you'd been secretly anticipating for all month.

Chess day. It was a monthly ritual you'd started with him when he'd discovered that you, too, were a fan of the game. You were absolutely terrible at it, and he won every time, but honestly, you didn't care. Chess day was just an excuse for you to spend time with him.

Except today, you have company, and it’s not exactly the kind you want him to meet.

You were supposed to call him, but in your haste to please your mom, you completely forgot.

Your mother’s gaze shifts to the door, and her eyebrows rise as if she can sense his presence on the other side. "Well, aren’t you going to answer that?"

No.

That's what you wanted to say. Instead, you hear yourself saying:

"Yeah, just a sec."

And, like a complete idiot, you open the door.

You open the door, and he’s there, all bright-eyed, smiling, holding a box of chocolates and his perfectly polished travel chess set. You feel like the biggest jerk in the world.

"Uh, hey!" he chirps, his voice making your stomach flip. He doesn’t seem to notice the tension in the air or the fact that your mother is standing right behind you, peering curiously over your shoulder. "I know I’m a little early, but I needed to pick up some things and..."

He trails off as his gaze settles on your mother. She’s eyeing him like a hawk and doing what she does when meeting a new person: leaning forward slightly, squinting her eyes, and tilting her head. You can see the wheels turning in her mind.

"Is this him?" she asks, her eyes wide with excitement.

Before you can stop her, she grabs your wrist and pulls you aside. You stumble into the kitchen, and she takes your place, smiling warmly at him.

"So, you’re the doctor," she says, her voice full of approval. "My daughter has told me so much about you!"

Oh, this is bad. So, so bad.

"Uh," he begins, clearly caught off-guard. His eyes dart to yours, and you were expecting his classic confused puppy look, but this time, it’s different. He looks... honored? No, that can't be right.

"She… talked about me?" he stammers, looking back at your mother.

She nods. "All the time! In fact, I was starting to think she’d made you up. It’s good to know my daughter has such a handsome young man in her life."

You want to die. Right there, on the spot. But, somehow, you manage to force a smile, even as your heart pounds with anxiety.

And your mother? She beams.

"It’s lovely to meet you finally," she gushes. She reaches out and shakes his hand, and he stares at her with a dazed expression. "My daughter has always been a bit shy, and she tends to keep things close to the vest if you know what I mean."

"Mom, please," you cut in, mortified. "Stop."

He still hasn't said a word, and the silence is killing you.

"Well, come on in, then," your mother continues, ignoring your protests. "I insist. After all, I can't wait to learn more about my future son-in-law!"

And this is when the situation goes from bad to worse.

This is when he freezes, and the box of chocolates threatens to slip from his fingers. You watched as he struggled to form a coherent sentence.

"I... Uh, that's not... we’re not..."

"Yes! Yes, we are!" you shout, desperate to cover up his stammering. He looks at you, his expression shifting from confused to shocked, and it’s like a punch in the gut. "That’s right, Mom. This is him. My boyfriend. Doctor Whoever."

"Oh, sweetie, this is so wonderful!" Your mother is so busy clapping her hands with delight that she doesn't notice his reaction.

"Doctor… Whoever?" He looks offended and a bit hurt. "What’s that supposed to mean—?"

"Shush!" You hiss, silently pleading with him to keep quiet. He must have caught your desperation because he shuts his mouth.

It allowed you a moment to process everything. Your mother is smiling widely, her face filled with delight. She doesn't even seem bothered by the fact that he’s currently dressed like a college professor with an evident love for scarves.

Meanwhile, he’s standing there, blinking stupidly, looking as if his entire world has been flipped upside-down. He seems torn between anger and elation, and honestly, it’s confusing as hell. You want to grab him and apologize and explain that this was all a mistake, but you can’t. Not with your mother right there.

So, you knew what you had to do.

"Mom! Say, would you mind doing me a huge favor and just give us like a few minutes? We have some important totally-not-boyfriend stuff to discuss."

"Sure, honey." She grins. "I'll do some unpacking. How about that?"

"Perfect!"

She practically skips into the other room, leaving the two of you alone. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence, broken only by the sound of the bedroom door clicking shut.

The sigh you let out is one of relief, tinged with the faintest hint of dread.

Though, he was the first to break the silence with words.

"I didn’t realize we were dating," he says, his voice low. He's not quite glaring at you, but it's a close thing. "Last time I checked, statistically, dating requires at least two people. Which leads me to the logical conclusion that you are, in fact, a liar. Unless this is some strange, newfangled term for friendship, in which case, I think it would be more appropriate for me to refer to you as the "teller of lies" rather than a—"

"I know, I'm sorry." You blurt out, your cheeks flushing with shame. "I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. She was asking all these questions, and I couldn't tell her the truth, and then she just kept talking, and I couldn't get a word in edgewise, and... I panicked. Okay? That’s all."

"What do you mean, couldn’t tell her the truth?" He narrows his eyes. "Is something wrong? Did you get yourself into trouble?"

"No! No, nothing like that."

"Then, what is it that you can't tell her?"

He steps closer, and the concern in his eyes makes you feel even guiltier.

"Look, don't worry about it, alright? It’s not important." You turn away, refusing to meet his gaze.

"If it isn’t important, then why are you so embarrassed?"

"I’m not embarrassed."

"Your cheeks are flushed," he points out. "And you tend to rub your thumb against your forefinger when you’re feeling nervous or stressed. Which, coincidentally, is also something you do when you’re lying."

Damn it. You should’ve known better than to lie to a profiler.

"You don’t know what it’s like to be interrogated by my mother," you snap, harsher than intended. You soften your voice before continuing. "It’s like she’s constantly see-sawing between disapproval and pity. She means well, but when she’s around, I feel like I'm being crushed under the weight of her expectations."

He opens his mouth, but you cut him off.

"And I know, I know, that’s not an excuse for lying. I just... I’m sorry, okay? It was wrong and selfish and... I didn’t mean to drag you into it."

You brace yourself for the inevitable rejection, the anger, the disappointment. Instead, you hear him let out a sigh, followed by the familiar look of resolve that comes over him when he's faced with a challenging puzzle.

"You know, when we first met, you used to lie all the time." He glances at you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "You would say things like, 'I don't watch rom-coms,' and, 'I have a real job,' and, most infamously, 'there's no such thing as aliens.'"

"Hold on a minute—"

He ignored your protests, his smile growing wider.

"You’re not that bad of a liar. Actually, you’re pretty decent, considering your lack of social skills. So the fact that you’ve managed to fool your mother is pretty impressive."

"Hey—"

"And, honestly, it’s a little flattering."

"I— Wait… what?" You gape at him, trying to figure out what's going on. "Flattering?"

He shrugs, but you can tell he's trying not to blush.

"Liars tend to use people they know well or trust implicitly when they need a cover story because they have more information about them and are therefore more believable. So, by lying about your fake boyfriend, that being me, it suggests that you trust me enough to make a convincing cover story, and the fact that you are embarrassed about the deception implies a certain amount of fondness."

"You can't know all that from a simple lie."

"Can’t I?"

There's something in his tone, the slightest hint of a tease, that makes your heart flutter. He's always been like this, so damn perceptive. You never knew what to make of it.

"It’s actually a well-established behavioral theory," he continues. "Deceivers typically show affection toward the person they are attempting to deceive. In fact, a study in the 1970s—"

"Spencer, please." You hold up a hand. "I get it."

"I'm not so sure that you do."

There's an intensity in his gaze that makes your stomach do backflips.

"Because," he murmurs, moving a little closer, "if you did, I wouldn’t have had to spend the past three years of my life wondering why my best friend keeps avoiding my gaze."

"You noticed that?" You squeak, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

"I notice everything."

He takes a step toward you, and it’s so quick, so unexpected, that you can't help but glance up. He's actually extremely close, his face mere inches from yours, and you find yourself frozen, unable to speak, unable to think, as his eyes lock with yours.

"I notice that the color of your eyes changes depending on the lighting." He pauses, and his voice grows softer. "And I notice that your pupils dilate when I'm near. I notice the way you breathe, the way you laugh, the way you chew your bottom lip when you’re deep in thought. And I can’t help but notice that the closer I get, the faster your heart rate becomes. That could be a number of things, of course, and not just an indication of arousal, but considering the context, the likelihood that it’s due to anything other than sexual excitement is simply—"

"Spence," you breathe, your pulse pounding in your ears. You’re not sure what to do, so you blurt out the first thing that pops into your mind. "Do you want to be my fake boyfriend?"

There’s a moment of silence, followed by a quiet snort.

"I thought I already was."

You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but the tension between you has lessened. Now, he’s simply staring at you with a smug smile, and it's like a dam has burst. The words tumble out of your mouth, spilling out like water from a leaky faucet.

"Well, then, you should know that my boyfriend is absolutely infuriating and has a tendency to ramble about obscure facts at inappropriate moments. And he’s really, really bad at taking a hint."

His smile widens, and his voice takes on a teasing tone.

"Oh, he is, is he? Tell me, is he good at chess?"

"No, he’s terrible at it."

"Then, he sounds like a total loser."

"Yeah," you admit, biting back a smile. "He’s the biggest loser I know."

"In that case, you should know that my girlfriend is incredibly frustrating and a compulsive liar who uses her boyfriend for cover stories. She also tends to cheat her way to victory despite still losing most of the time."

"I do not cheat!" You protest, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

"No, you just make up rules on the spot in order to justify why you lose so badly."

"You’re one to talk. You’re the one who’s been letting me win all this time."

"Perhaps," he grins. "Or maybe I’ve been letting you believe that."

You narrow your eyes.

"Are you admitting to me what I think you're admitting?"

"What is it that you think I’m admitting to?"

"I think you’re admitting to me that you’ve been throwing our chess games all this time."

"That sounds like the ramblings of someone who cheats and is trying to project their own faults onto others."

"Oh, you know what—"

And that's when the bedroom door swings open, and your mother's voice cuts through the air like a knife.

"Ahem."

She's standing there, smiling, and holding a box filled with old pictures and baby toys. Your father had sent it to you last year, hoping that you’d have children soon and use it, but you’d put it in storage, intending to deal with it later. Apparently, your mother had decided now was the perfect time.

The both of you share a look, and it's clear that he’s thinking the same thing as you.

"Not interrupting, am I?" She asks, glancing from him to you and then back again. Her smile was practically glowing, and she had a strange look in her eyes as if she were a cat watching a bird. "I was just looking for a place to put these old things and thought maybe my daughter's boyfriend might be interested in seeing them."

The shared look between the two of you solidified what was going through both of your minds. This was indeed going to be a long, long afternoon.

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chris-tarrant-official · 2 years ago

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#chris tarrant #who wants to be a millionaire #3036

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pandora-writes-one-piece · 6 months ago

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Hi Pandora!!! Happy birthday!! 🎉🎉🎉Thank you for deciding to share the celebrations with all of us 😊 You've really got me on a Law kick lately with the Meet Cute, so could I get Law with "I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and I can’t stop thinking about you"? Maybe NSFW with fem!reader?

@froggiewrites Froggie, Froggie, Froggie... your time has come! 😂 First of, thank you so much for the lovely birthday wishes! And now... I had so much fun writing this prompt, I do hope you enjoy it! Thank you for participating! ❤️

Source for Pic

Rulebreaker

Word Count: 3036

Tags: Fem!Reader; Teasing; Edging; Power Dynamics; Fluff Ending; NSFW; MDNI;

Special Warning: English is not my first language, I apologise for any possible spelling or grammar mistakes.

Summary: Law, your captain, is tired of the shenaningans you pull whenever the Heart Pirates land on a new island, so he devises a way for you to follow his rules.

Notes: I couldn't hold on another day. I regret nothing. Though I supose the day will come when I'll leave you guys high and dry (fic-less) for some time 😅 Anyway, this is not that time, so please, enjoy this meal!

|Masterlist|

“For the umpteenth time, Law! I know! Now give me a break!” Logic never has been your forte. Thinking on your feet, damn right! Making hard decisions under stress, bring’em, baby. Endurance, the best at it! But logic? No.

So is it logical to argue with your captain after having disobeyed his orders yet again? Not in the least. And damned if there aren’t more than one reason not to lose your patience with him, way more than one, actually. First, you are in his office, second, he’s your superior, third, he’s your boyfriend. But fourth, and the most important one, there’s no getting away from Law if you make him snap. Literally. He’d shambles you from anywhere.

Still, despite the violence with which your heart is hammering in your chest, your bravado remains in place, as you hold the stare with which his amber eyes pin you, not even flinching.

“You know?” His voice is clipped as he leans back in his chair, fingers entwined and resting beneath his chin. Fuck, he’s pissed. “You claim to already know, but as soon as we land on another island, the first thing you do is get into trouble.”

“I don’t go looking for trouble, trouble finds me!” You say, trademark smirk in place before the little voice in your head starts to whisper in your ear. You’re going to regret pissing him off…

“That’s cute.” Is it? Because he’s not even close to being amused.

“I know, that’s how you found me. You were the trouble, and you were drawn to me.” There. That has to placate some of his anger, right?

He sighs and closes his eyes for a moment as if pondering his next move. Then, he reaches for one drawer of his desk and removes an envelope. Curiosity nips at you while you angle your head, trying to see what he’s holding, but instead of hiding it, Law gets up, hands you the envelope, and walks to the door.

What the hell? You open it and reach for a piece of folded paper as you hear the distinct click of the door being locked. “Am I supposed to read this?”

“Yes.” Clipped, curt, cold. You really pissed him off.

The scribbled handwriting is a dead giveaway that this was written by Law, but knowing him for over a year, and being involved for half of it, you’re quite familiar with it by now. The letters on top instantly turn your curious look into a scowl. “Rulebook?”

Law sits again and smirks softly, a barely-there twitch of the upper lip. “Looks like you need one.” You scoff as you skim the first articles.

“I play by the rules!”

“Really? Then why have I had to mend your slashed leg today? Tell me that.” Your teeth clack together as you close your mouth and nearly growl at him. Your name in his lips sounds like a warning. “It’s an order. Answer it.”

“Because I didn’t obey you.” You manage to sputter the words between your teeth and each of them parting your lips hurts more than the sword cut you received from the marines stationed at the island.

“Hence the rulebook. It’s not unwarranted. I’ve known you for a year and every time we encounter a new island, you run amok doing your own shit and come back slashed, bruised, cut, or bleeding. I’ve had enough.” You swallow the knot in your throat as Law gets up, circling the desk and leaning on it, right in front of you. “I’ve never met anyone as infuriating as you, and yet, I can’t stop thinking about you. So it’s time you make me stop worrying, before I drive myself insane.”

Aww…You’d actually think that’s a cute thing to say, if it wasn’t for the unhinged glint in Law’s eyes or the way that his smirk makes you tremble in anticipation.

“You want me to follow this rulebook?” He gives you that annoying ‘what do you think?’ look and you scoff. “There’s like fifteen rules here! I’m not following this!” Your eyes skim the rules again. “Report back every hour? What the hell, Law?”

“You can use a DenDen for that.” He’s enjoying this. You were expecting punishment, but not this kind of punishment, this is unbearable. “I’ll tell you what, sweetheart.” His voice softens as you glare at him through hooded eyes. “I’ll make you a deal.”

What?

“If you read me all the items in that rulebook without stopping, you don’t have to follow it.” What the fuck? Your head cocks to the side as your eyes switch between the paper in your hands and the amused glare of your boyfriend.

“Just like that?”

“With a few more conditions.” He chuckles with that low vibrato in his voice and your knees tremble.

“Which are?”

“Get up.” When you do, he unzips your boiler suit all the way down, revealing the top you have underneath. “Strip the rest.”

“Is this a kink, Law?” You tease, knowing you don’t mind at all. If reciting the items naked for him is what gets you your freedom, you’re game. So you take everything but your panties because he stops you when you were going to remove them.

“Perfect.” He says.

“Okay, I’ll start.” You clear your throat and bend your legs to sit when Law’s tutting stops you. “What?”

“Bend over the desk for me, sweetheart.” Bend over? Heat starts to pool at your core because that position over that desk has already given you quite a few orgasms in the past months, and you have excellent muscle memory.

“Law?”

“It’s up to you. If you don’t read them, you have to follow them.” He pushes off the table as his eyes devour you, inch by inch, making you inhale deeply just to gather your thoughts again.

“Fine.” Anything to not follow his stupid rules! You bend over his desk, which is conveniently the perfect height to line up your ass with his cock, as proven many times before, and push a few books to the side so you’re leaning on your elbows. You clear your throat again and begin reciting in a sing-song voice. “Rule number one: no wandering off alone! Sure, this one is simple, I usually go out with Ik– mmph, Law!”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as your body snaps with tension. Looking over your shoulder, you see your captain sitting in the chair you were in earlier, with his finger in your clothed cunt.

“You stopped.” Fuck. “But I’ll give you that one, you weren’t prepared. Start over.” Your breath comes out in ragged gasps as you feel yourself already getting wet at the prospect of all the things Law is going to do to you. It kind of makes you want to throw the rules overboard and just beg him to take you right now.

“Fuck, Law. Okay, here we go: Rule number one: no wandering off alone!” A gasp leaves your lips and you close your eyes for a second as Law’s fingers tease your clit over the panties, the friction of the fabric increasing his touch. “Rule number two: Fuck, Law, like that.” You moan, closing your eyes again as he teases one finger inside the panties to see how wet you are.

His tuts are unforgiving, and he removes his fingers altogether, earning him a grunt from you. “You stopped again, sweetheart.”

“Law!”

“The deal is: you read them all until the end without stopping, and you don’t have to follow them. Got it?” You groan and shake your head. That’s impossible. If he’s going to torture you like this, it will be impossible to read the rules.

“That’s unfair, Law.”

“Okay, then, you’re right. So how about this: you can pause three times during five seconds.” You nod. You can do that. Law’s hand caresses your buttcheeks as he talks, and every single rub makes you tingle. “Moaning is encouraged, but keep reading. Oh, and when you pause,” Law removes his hands from you, “I pause. Keep that in mind.”

What? Now that’s cruel! You look at the rules again and feel angered. There’s no fucking way you’re going to follow them, you can do this! You can zone out. Let’s go!

“Fine! Okay, we’re doing this. Just know that you’re the infuriating one! Rule number two–”

“No, no, no. From the beginning.” Does this man want you angered or turned on? Because he’s doing both brilliantly.

“Rule number one: no wandering off alone.” You cry out softly as his hand slaps your ass, leaving the most marvellous burning sensation behind, which he soothes with a caress. “Rule number two: report back every hour. Oh, my God.” You take a deep breath before reading the other one, trying to focus on the words instead of the slow way he’s pulling your pants down your legs and breathing against your cunt.

“Rule number three: no-... no-... my God, Law.” He’s using his tongue! He swipes up from your clit to your hole in a long upwards streak, then probes around the entrance with slow, teasing circles. He inches just the tip of his tongue inside as his hand reaches to brush against your swollen clit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“One… Two…” His movements stop, and he starts counting the seconds you’re quiet against your cunt, making you shudder. The dry thud of your forehead against the wooden desk should ground you, but it’s impossible when he was working his fingers like that. “Three…Four…” One more second to regain focus, one deep breath to continue. “Five.”

Just as you open your mouth, so does he, tongue reaching inside you, twisting and curling to hit delicious spots as you cry out his name before your muddled brain repeats the same word over and over: read, read, read!

“Rule number three: no unauthorized fucking fights!” An unbridled moan parts your lips as Law switches up and two of his fingers go where his tongue was and his tongue sucks on your clit. “FUCK. Rule number four: ah, Law, ah! No reckless stunts! That was one time! One–... ahhh!” You suck in three deep breaths and punch the table as his fingers curl and his teeth nibble gently, just the way he knows you like.

God, you’re so close. Your legs numb and tense up as heat spreads throughout your veins. The pressure in your abdomen threatens to release at any given moment and you can’t stop right now.

“Rule number five: don’t stop, Law! Don’t… ah!” You cry out his name as wave upon wave of pleasure washes over you, taking your sanity with it and blurring your vision until tiny white dots are all you can see. Sweat drips from your temples, and your elbows give out as you squeeze your breasts against the table. Your hands find purchase against anything to help you ride this high, and there’s now a book on Law’s desk with very crumpled pages.

You’re still breathing hard, trying to regain focus when the buzzing in your ears subsides, and you hear Law’s voice again. “Four…” Fuck, fuck, the list! You open your eyes with a deep exhale and focus back on the now crumpled paper, just as Law finishes his count. You’re now down to one more pause. Crap.

“Rule number five: do not interact with suspicious strangers.” You hear Law unbuckling his belt and start to read faster, even though the aftershocks of your orgasm are still making you shudder and gasp. “Rule number six: do not go to bars without me.” Well, that one is warranted. You pretty much fuck everything up when you’re wasted. The zipper, hurry up! “Rule number seven: obey curfew.”

A lone whimper leaves your lips as you feel Law rubbing the tip of his cock against your slit, up and down, touching your oversensitive clit before teasing your entrance but not entering. You’re going to fail if you don’t hurry.

“Rule number ei–...” You gasp and cry out the loudest moan yet as Law sheathes himself inside of you, immediately bottoming out. The feeling of fullness, the tip hitting your cervix, and the burn of the stretching is so intense that it takes your breath away for a second.

“Breathe, sweetheart, I’m giving you this one for free.” He rubs soothing circles on your back and doesn’t move until you relax around him. “Now continue, or I’ll start the break time.”

You heave in a few sharp breaths, already too winded to speak, but you have no other choice.

“Rule number eight: hmm… ah…” Law pulls back, his hands firmly planted against your hips and you brace yourself for what’s next. “You’re forbidden to act as ba–... ahngh! Fuck! Bait!” He slams into you and the desk skids forward with the force. The pleasure of his thrust and the pain of the desk biting into your hips shoots warmth through your core and down your legs and you focus again on the words in front of you.

On the very blurry words in front of you. Tears of pleasure gather at the corner of your eyes as your mouth hangs open and Law keeps thrusting harder and harder.

“Rule number– just like that, more! Nine: Always carry a, fuck, weapon!” Almost there. Both at the end of the list and on the next wave of bliss that’s already cresting and forming as the coil winds tight in your stomach.

“Rule–... ngh… rule–” You’re about to break and cry out or tap out, anything. You can’t think about anything other than the pure perfection that is your bodies conjoined. The lewd sounds of his cock filling you and the soft grunts he’s releasing behind you.

“Go on, love, you got this.” He urges, thrusting even harder.

But you don’t ‘got this’, at all. Your hair is damp against your forehead, and all that escapes your lips are ragged moans and broken pleas. You’re there, you’re right there. A few more thrusts and you’ll be–...

“One…Two…” He stopped. He fucking stopped! A desperate whine leaves your lips as you wiggle your hips against him because you were just there! “Three…” He won’t move until five or until you start to read again.

This has to be torture for him too!

“Four…” Deep breaths, focus. You can do this, it’s as simple as reading a supermarket list. If you were being railed against the dairy section. Damn. New kink unlocked. “Five…”

“Rule number–...” Where the fuck was I? Blank. There’s nothing there. And then there’s Law and another deep thrust clicking your brain into place. “Rule number ten: fuck me harder, Law!”

He can’t help but chuckle as he reaches forward, his back sprawling over you and you feel the way his sweat clings to your back. “That’s not written there, love, carry on.”

“Don’t leave the ship without permission.” You moan out the rule, but you said it. There are five more rules and one big impediment. You don’t have more timeouts, and your orgasm is approaching fast. There’s no way in hell you’ll be able to read while you're in ecstasy.

Spit them all out, now.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Rule number eleven: stay out of off-limit areas; rule number twelve: stay inside the sub if you’re hurt.” Intelligible. Everything you’re saying comes out in ragged breaths, gasps, and moans, but you’re reading. And Law ups his game.

He slithers a hand around your waist, lifting your body against him, grabbing your leg and hoisting your knee over the desk. His cock slides deeper with each thrust as he breathes heavily into your ear.

God, you won’t make it.

“Rule number thirteen: ah… Law… I’m… nghh. Absolutely no secrets.” Two more, just two more rules, but you can feel the coil tightening, almost, almost snapping. The way Law holds your body against his, as sweat drenches both of you, his mouth on the curve of your neck, the way he’s digging his teeth in… it’s too much.

“Rule number fourteen: follow my medical advice.” One more.

Law’s fingers reach down to press your clit, circling it with expert precision, and his next deep thrust makes you lose it.

Your release hits you like a truck, and you arch your back, nails digging into Law’s forearm as he expertly works his fingers to squeeze every bit of pleasure out of you. Your cry mingles with his low grunt as he spills his seed inside you, riding his pleasure with a few more ragged thrusts.

The world is reduced to just the two of you and this moment. Nothing else matters but the way he whispers ‘I love you’ in your ear in a breathless whisper. You nod back at him, too addled, hazed, and tired to give him an adequate response, knowing you’ll do so after a brief moment of reprieve.

Law pulls himself out of you and brings you both into the chair, cradling you against his chest as his fingers caress your hair, and he kisses your nose affectionately. “Are you all right?”

Another nod. Too early to speak yet.

“You almost did it, love. You had one more rule.” He chuckles, and you laugh along with him.

“This is an impossible challenge, Law. You’re terrible. But I love you.” You lift the crumpled paper to glimpse at the last rule. “Rule number fifteen: follow the chain of command.” You scoff. “Got it, Captain. I’ll obey every damn, stupid, silly rule. You won.”

You’re not even pissed at him anymore. This was fucking hot.

“Check the addendum.” You lift your head from his chest to meet his amber gaze in curiosity before looking back at the paper, confused. “Turn it.” He says, so you do.

“Addendum: the following of this rulebook can be challenged at any given time, under the same rules.” A smirk forms on your lips at the implications of the addendum, you can have a repeat of this little game anytime you want. You’ll find a way to beat the rules, eventually. Chuckling, you snuggle back into that cosy spot in the curve of Law’s neck, where your head fits perfectly. “Give me half an hour and we’ll try again.”

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil @eustasscapitankid @ren-ni @jqperi @lycoriskalmia @walmartmihawk

#one piece #one piece x reader #x reader #op #law x reader #reader x trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law #reader x law #you x law #law x you #reader insert

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