#I must KNOW everything and only then will I be able to actually discuss

[misspelledwordswizard]

Akdiwjabs I love the way you write four but what about the COLORS?

I love the colors sm!! I'll love more requests for them too, hehe

Sounds coming from outside the inn caught my attention. It was night, all the boys were in the inn, either in their rooms or in some other room in the place, so there was no reason for me to worry. It must just be some drunk talking to himself. The only problem is that I recognized the voice, and besides being someone I know well, I’m sure it seemed to be coming from more than one person.

Well, I guess checking it out can’t hurt, right? I got up from the small sofa I was sitting on, reading a book, and went to look for something to cover myself and protect myself from the night’s cold. After putting on a coat, I went out through the front door of the inn, looking around. The street was empty, so it was easy to identify the sounds coming from nearby.

I walked to the back of the inn, away from the eyes, worried about what could be causing all this commotion. Of all the possibilities that crossed my mind, none of them were that the voice I heard was actually Four’s, but I was also right about there being more than one person, because right in front of me were four Fours. Ironic, I know.

He... they seemed to be discussing something that I couldn’t understand at first, too shocked by what was right in front of me, and they also didn’t seem to have noticed me standing there. Each of them wore the robe in a different color, each one of the colors of the original robe of the hero of the four swords.

Oh, hero of the four swords, so that’s what it means!

Not liking the idea of just standing there watching, or even leaving and them never even finding out that I knew their secret, I cleared my throat to get their attention. It seemed to work, they all looked at me surprised and somewhat shocked, becoming quiet immediately.

— Oh, calm down! It’s not what you’re thinking. – The one wearing the green tunic began, triggering the reaction of the others.

— Well, unless you’re thinking that we’re Four divided, then it’s exactly what you’re thinking! – The one in red said, receiving na elbow from the one in blue.

— It’s okay, we can explain everything. – The one in purple said, not seeming really worried about the situation.

It took me a while to process all of this, but I think it’s okay, after all, it’s Four. They are Four.

— Hm, okay, then explain. – I said, finding myself again at the wall nearby with my arms crossed, waiting.

— Well... we’re Four. – The green one replied, saying what I had already assumed.

— So Four is like, four people in one?

— Not exactly, more like we’re a quarter of one person each. We’re different parts of Four, different sides of it. – The one in purple explained better, and I thought I was starting to understand.

— And I suppose that’s because of the sword.

— Exactly. – the one in blue confirmed.

Right. It’s not that absurd. Just complex and strange. But reasonable.

— And what should I call you? One, two, three and four? – I asked, making the one in red laugh.

— We answer to Green, Red, Blue and Vio. – Green corrected me.

— Oh, right, that makes sense. – I sighed. That’s a lot for one night. – Do the others know?

— No, only Wild. And we prefer to keep it that way, understand? – Blue said, almost sounding like a threat, I just nodded.

Before I could speak I felt someone hug me suddenly. Red grabbed me affectionately, looking happy. If each one represents a feeling of Four’s, I guess this one is love.

— I’m so glad you know this now! I’ve wanted to tell you for a while, but the others didn’t agree. – He said, mumbling about his other parts. – And you’re taking it so well, how nice! Now we can get to know each other even better.

I laughed softly, I never thought I’d see the Blacksmith act so affectionately, it was kind of adorable. And to think that this is literally a part of him, it’s nice to be able to get to know this side of him.

— Okay, I’m still trying to figure this all out, but it’s actually pretty cool. It’s kind of like Four multiplied, all advantages. – I said without thinking very well, and mentally cursed myself for it. Okay, I went around saying that shit anyway, go ahead and confess that you have a crush on him... them.

Luckily, they didn’t seem to notice, or didn’t show it, the next thing I saw was Red being pulled by the hood by Blue, forcing him to let go of me.

— Okay, that’s enough, don’t be so clingy! Do you want to scare her, idiot?!

— Hey, you know you’re calling yourself an idiot too, right, genius?

— No, I’m calling you an idiot, you’re the idiot part, I’m the cool part!

— But we’re the same person!

The two argued back and forth, heavens, I’m still going to go crazy one of these days. The other two got closer to me, avoiding the brawlers.

— Don’t worry, ignore them, they’re a little nervous with your presence. – Green explained, generating more doubts in me.

— Why would they be nervous?

— Oh, it’s because- ouch! – He was cut off by a poor thing on the back of the neck from Vio. – Oh, nothing, forget it.

Oh, I can see it’s going to be a long night.

[aspenicus-is-learning]

anybody else feel underqualified to like the things they like?

[endless-ineffabilities]

this world was never meant for a fire like yours (part 4/5)

Daemon Targaryen x modern f!reader

word count: 6k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

series synopsis: After a fatal injury on the battefield, Daemon wakes up in a foreign land - our world (where GoT / HoTD does not exist). He meets the reader, a nurse who tends to him and helps him navigate everything. They grow close, and slowly, but unequivocally, fall in love.

themes/warnings: language, separation, intense yearning, actual bonding between Daemon and Vizzy, magic use, manipulation

September 2023 / the 9th Moon, 113 AC

The fire in the hearth flickers weakly, casting shadows on the stone walls in Daemon’s chambers. His fingers drum restlessly on the arm on his chair, his mind elsewhere.

Across from him, Viserys is lounging calmly, the faintest smile playing on his lips. He had invited himself in Daemon’s company, under the pretence of discussing the plans of the Realmwalkers. And they did just that, but the King’s eyes remain bright with amusement—a cruel irony, given his brother’s predicament.

Daemon has been back from Korzion for several moons, and he yearns for you to such a degree that it lingers like an ache in his bones.

“So, what was this other realm like?” Viserys breaks the silence, his voice curious. But Daemon mistakes it for taunting. 

“What was it like?” Daemon repeats, his voice a low rumble. He can feel his temper rising, as it almost always does when anything related to you is mentioned. When he has to speak of you, and be reminded that you are an entire world away.

Viserys leans forward, with a boyish eagerness to listen to tales of distant lands. “We never did get to have a proper discussion, brother. I would love to know. The… priestesses… called it the Realm of Steel. Now what does that mean? And its inhabitants are connected to devices? That must have been odd, indeed.”

Daemon stares at the fire, its fading warmth doing little to soothe the melancholy creeping into his thoughts. “You saw it.”

“Why, yes, brother,” Viserys nods thoughtfully, reclining again. “In the brief whisper of a moment that I spent in that realm, I was certainly able to familiarise myself with their ways.” His tone is clearly teasing, but Daemon finds no humour in it.

Daemon clenches his jaw, forcing the words out. “The only thing worth mentioning from the realm, the one thing that would have kept me there—”

“—is her, as you have mentioned before.” Viserys cuts in smoothly.

Daemon glares at his brother icily, his jaw clenching.

Viserys’ smile only widens. “Must you be so cross?” 

“I am not cross,” Daemon responds petulantly. “I am mourning.”

Viserys waves a hand dismissively, as though swatting away a trivial complaint. “You will see her again!”

“And until then, I will remain in mourning.” The finality in Daemon’s tone seems to sober Viserys, if only for a moment. 

“Daemon, you and your penchant for theatrics,” Viserys says, leaning back in his seat, indulging in a private jibe only he understands.

“Are you mocking me?” Daemon’s voice drops to a dangerous whisper. For all his love for his brother, there are moments—far too many moments—when Daemon considers drawing his blade, simply to see if Viserys would still be so smug with Dark Sister at his throat. 

Viserys holds up a hand in a placating gesture, though his eyes still sparkle with mischief. “What if I am? Will you strike at your King?” When his brother merely glowers at him, he continues, “There was something on her table. It possessed a dark hue, with a sheen to it. It looked stiff and peculiar…”

“Aye, she calls it a laptop,” Daemon says, his voice turning softer. He could see it so vividly in his mind—the glowing screen, the smooth surface of the strange object that seemed to hum with a life of its own. You had been understanding when he broke the one you owned originally in a fit of desperation, when the sentient overlord in the object called Google offered no answers.

Viserys’ face twists with confusion. “A lap… top?”

Daemon chuckles darkly at his brother’s obliviousness. “I called it a magic box at first.”

Viserys laughs out loud, the sound filling the chamber. “A magic box?”

“Pray tell,” Daemon drawls, “are you simply going to echo every word I utter?”

“Forgive me, brother,” Viserys says, his laughter dying down. “I am simply… amused.”

Daemon turns to face the hearth, the smirk that tugs at his lips growing impossible to hide. It was absurd, really—the man he had become in that world. A prince, warrior, and dragonlord brought low by strange, glowing boxes and foreign jargon that tumbled awkwardly from his lips. 

But you… you had made him feel like none of it mattered. In your arms, he wasn’t so out of place. 

Daemon sits silent for a moment, the memory of your time together tugging at him as he stares blankly into the flames. His lips twitch into the rarest of smiles—something soft and affectionate, uncharacteristic of the Rogue Prince.

“I nearly set fire to her home once, trying to cook us supper.”

Viserys raised an eyebrow. “You? Cooking?”

“I was so determined. Yet I managed to make a complete mess of something they call pasta. She ended up fixing what I ruined.”

“She must possess the patience of the Mother herself.”

Daemon hums in affirmation. You were a marvel, an anomaly, because you took him in—a complete and total stranger. You saw him, accepted him… and you loved him.

You love him still, Daemon hopes.

“She once took me to this…gods, what did she call it?” Daemon waves a hand vaguely, trying to summon the word from his mind. “A farmer’s market. A market without any actual farmers, mind you. Just a sea of stalls with trinkets and food. She insisted we buy strawberries, and they were strange—too sweet—but she fed me one anyway. Right in front of everyone.” He chuckles at the thought. “We were walking along, her hand in mine, not a care for the smallfolk surrounding us.”

Daemon’s eyes glaze over with a fondness that was rare for him, as he continues sharing more of your world with Viserys. He speaks of how you worked as something called a nurse– a healer—but you were far more skilled than even the Grand Maester himself. He shares how you introduced him to coffee—some bitter, muddy brew he loathed at first but came to crave due to its association with early mornings spent nestled with you on your couch. And how you made him try pizza, which he found oddly addictive.

“She insisted on doing things,” he says, shaking his head as if he still couldn’t quite believe it. “Not just ruling or politicking. Simple things. Like spending hours in a bloody shop trying on clothes that I did not need. But... It made her smile. And I would have done anything to see that smile.”

For a moment, the tension between them lifts, and Viserys watches his brother with an expression somewhere between disbelief and amusement. Daemon, the fearsome warrior, enchanted by something as lowly as venturing into a mundane market, utterly captivated by a woman who lived a life so unlike anything he had ever known.

But as Daemon’s musings grew quieter, his gaze hardened again, the sweetness slipping away. “Enough of this,” he says gruffly. “We must direct our attention on how I will be with her once more.”

October 2023 / the 10th Moon, 113 AC

The hospital’s antiseptic scent wraps around you like a damp cloak as you trudge through the hallways. Every beep of the machines and the chatter of your fellow nurses feels like a reminder of the normalcy you are desperately trying to hold onto. Little do they know, you are living a life that has been effectively tinged by dragonfire. 

You don’t quite feel like a beacon of hope; more like a walking, talking paradox. You try to save lives while secretly plotting how to summon a Targaryen prince from his world.

Your mind flickers to Daemon as you begin your shift. His silver hair, that smug smile, the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world — any world. If only he was back at your apartment to welcome you after your rounds, maybe things wouldn’t feel so heavy. But alas, you’re stuck in scrubs and not some elegant and puffy gown like those worn by the noble ladies in his kingdom. 

Hours pass, and after a particularly exhausting shift, you finally make your way to Dessa’s apartment, your mind buzzing with excitement. She is an odd mix of energy and seriousness, her presence a grounding force. The moment you enter her living space, you’re assaulted by the scent of herbs and spices, the walls adorned with what looked like genuine dragon scales. Or maybe they’re just really expensive home decor from an antique shop? Who could say?

“Ready for another night of magical chaos?” Dessa asks, grinning as she sorts through her collection of peculiar knick-knacks.

“Chaos is my middle name,” you quipped, waving a hand dramatically. “At least it is now, thanks to you.”

“Just what I want to hear, my child. And I am honoured to be your guide through this madness.” She picks up a sliver of moonstone and winks. “Shall we start with the moonstone or the raven’s feather this time? Or should we just sacrifice a bloody goat and see what happens?”

You snort at her dark humour. “Let’s stick to the gemstones for now. I’m not ready for gruesome sacrifices.”

Dessa grins as she hands you the moonstone. “Good choice.”

The two of you settle in for your practice, the atmosphere thick with magic and your unspoken hopes. You take a deep breath, recalling the steps that would lead you to Daemon. This is your chance to strengthen your connection, to reach through the veils of reality and grasp him once more.

“Envision your destination clearly,” Dessa instructs, her voice encouraging. “You don’t want to end up in the middle of the Dothraki Sea.”

You laugh nervously, though you’re unsure what or where a Dothraki is. “Right.”

“Priorities, my dear.”

You prick your palm with the moonstone, and the sharp pain jolts you into focus. The blood meets the raven’s feather, and you begin to chant in High Valyrian. The words roll off your tongue, you can feel the energy building, swirling around you like a hurricane, almost intoxicating in its intensity.

But as the ash begins to swirl around you, that familiar sensation of panic surges in your chest. You focus harder, envisioning Daemon, and that wicked smile of his that haunts your dreams. The way he smells, the way he tastes. Just when the memory is strengthened in your mind, a wave of fatigue crashes over you, and everything immediately falters.

“Dessa, I—” You gasped, collapsing against the couch. “I can’t… It’s too much.”

“Take a breath, you can do this,” she urges, but the energy flickers out like a dying flame. “We can try again.”

“I’m starting to feel like a joke,” you mumble dejectedly. Are they sure that you are one of them? Maybe this was all a fluke.

But you try once more and you fail. Over and over. Each attempt feels more hopeless than the last. You could practically hear Daemon's mocking laughter in your head, though you knew he wouldn’t be so cruel—not to you. 

“Let’s take a break,” Dessa suggests, concern knitting her brow. “You’re pushing too hard. It’s not a race.”

But all you could think about was the chasm of distance that lay between you and Daemon. “I just want to see him. I want to feel him.”

After the long night of failure, you trudge home, fatigue pulling at your limbs like lead. You slump onto your bed, staring at the ceiling. The room feels empty, devoid of magic and warmth and Daemon. The excitement that had buoyed your spirits is now like a distant memory.

Just as you begin to drift off, the memory of Daemon flickers behind your eyelids. Suddenly, something sparks within you, igniting the embers of your determination. You shoot up, adrenaline surging through your veins. The thought of giving up is unbearable. The very real possibility of losing him for good is enough to pull you out of your rut.

With a newfound sense of purpose, you gather the same tools from earlier, the moonstone and raven’s feather, and focus your thoughts. You envision Daemon, standing with him in the middle realm.

This time, your heart races not with self-doubt and gloom but with renewed hope. “I will find you,” you whisper to yourself. “I will.”

You prick your palm again, reciting the chant with a fervour you didn’t know you possessed. The energy swirls around you, coiling and tightening, feeding off your will. The feather turns to ash, and the world around you begins to shimmer and crackle, and with a rush that sends a thrill through your core, you feel yourself being pulled into the connection. The fog envelops you, and suddenly, you reach it.

But it isn’t just the middle realm. It’s everything you wanted, everything you long for. 

And then, just like that, he appears. His silver hair gleamed in the soft light, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of surprise and wonder.

“This is real?” 

Your voice comes out soft, hesitant. You’re unsure if you’re speaking to Daemon or to yourself. 

Your senses are overwhelmed, and you feel somewhat floaty, as if you’re nowhere at all. Perhaps you are nowhere, not in your realm and not in Daemon’s, but somewhere in the middle. Everything feels so distant and dreamlike as you glance around, taking in the fog that seems to curl around the furniture, draping your bedroom in a surreal haze. 

“Am I doing this?” You murmur in disbelief. “Is it working?”

Daemon doesn’t answer immediately. He stands frozen, his eyes wide and burning with an intensity that nearly undoes you. Then, something in him breaks, and he charges forward with a purpose, as if nothing else in the world matters but closing the space between you.

He grips you, his hands rough, desperate, holding onto whatever part of you he can—your face, your hips, your hands. His touch is possessive, like a man who fears he’ll lose you again. His lips crash into yours with a raw hunger, and it’s as if the entire world melts away, leaving only him. Your Daemon.

“My darling,” he breathes between kisses, his voice rough with desire. “All of this is fucking astonishing, and we can certainly marvel at what you can do to no end, but quite frankly, right this moment I could hardly bring myself to care.”

His lips devour yours, moving against your mouth with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. He kisses you as if it’s been years, as if this moment might be the last chance he’ll ever get. And for a brief second, the sensation overwhelms you — the smell of him, the feel of his hands gripping you with such raw need. Your fingers tangle in his silver hair, pulling him closer as if you could merge your two bodies together.

Daemon is not one to waste time, that’s for sure. His lips trail down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin of your collarbone as you arch into him.

“I miss you,” you breathe, as he kisses the hollow of your throat.

“As I you, my love.” Daemon purrs, breathing you in. “You simply have no idea…”

But even in the heat of his touch, the fog surrounding you reminds you of the truth. This moment, as real as it feels, is a trick—a fragile connection. You feel him, but not entirely. His body presses against yours, but there’s something missing. You can’t feel the warmth of his skin, can’t hear the familiar rustle of his breath against your ear.

It’s not enough.

“Daemon… this is…” You try to voice out your concern, despite the moment. Dessa was right, your corporeal forms cannot meet through your projection; the two of you stand in your bedroom, but everything seems to be enveloped in a thick haze. If you press hard enough, you think your fingers will simply pass through Daemon as if he were a spectre. You realise that he knows this, too, but chooses to ignore it. 

He tries to brush it off, tries to ground you in the present. “This is the closest we’ve been in far too fucking long, my love.” His voice cracks slightly, his frustration bleeding through. “It would have been sooner if those cunts made greater effort to—”

You snort, confronted once more with how brash he can be. “Daemon, those cunts? Really? I am one of them, you know. Besides, it’s not their fault.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” he mutters, his lips tugging into a slight smile as he rests his forehead against yours. His hands roam your back, pulling you impossibly closer. “Let me have this. Have you. I need you.”

He’s right. In physical form or otherwise, he is still your Daemon. And you have craved each other too much to be denied any kind of reunion.

“Okay.” Your hand reaches up to cradle his face, and he leans into it. He then looks around, appraising your chambers, as he used to say.

“Nothing has changed.” He hums, while holding you tightly to him, as if he’s afraid that you might dissolve into the fog. “What is this now? Ever the reader, my heart.” He reaches for the crisp, new paperback novel lying on your dresser. 

You snort softly. “Oh, that’s… yeah, someone lent it to me.”

“It certainly does not seem too suited to your tastes.” His tone is bemused, and he turns the book over in his hand. 

You let out a humourless laugh. “Astute observation. It’s my neighbour’s. He apparently thought I needed something new to read.” When he gave you the book, Tom happily explained how he thought you should, “…expose yourself to other things. Things you possibly haven’t tried out before. New films, books, friends. You know to help you forget all about…”

Daemon’s eyes narrow slightly, the shift in his posture immediate, almost imperceptible, but you’ve always been able to read him. He lowers the book slowly, his gaze hardening with suspicion. “Your neighbour — what was he called? Tim?”

“You remember his name, Daemon.” You roll your eyes at your lover, and his poorly-veiled jealousy. You were one and the same.

Daemon’s lips curl, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “You have been letting him inside your house?” His voice drops an octave, the dangerous undertone unmistakable. His hand rests on your waist, possessive, reminding you that you are his.

You nod slowly, carefully. “He’s been visiting every now and then. It’s not a big deal.”

Daemon tilts his head, his smirk darkening into something more sinister. He leans in close, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Has that mongrel taken my place, dearest?”

Your breath catches in your throat, his words sending a jolt of heat through your veins. There’s an unspoken challenge in his voice, and your heart races in response. But you don’t back down.

With a calm you don’t entirely feel, you lift your chin and meet his gaze, eyes locked in a battle of wills. “Has any lady taken mine? In that amazing, grand realm of yours, Prince Daemon?” Your fingers slip beneath the collar of his tunic, the soft fabric yielding to your touch as you ghost your fingertips across his skin.

 Only Daemon has ever been able to elicit this out of you.

He enjoys the way you directly meet his eyes, unwavering in your stead. No one ever looked at him in such a way; not one has ever seen him as you do. Daemon has always inspired fear and intimidation in others. Those who find themselves comfortable enough to hold a conversation with the Rogue Prince tend to feel ill at ease or on their guard. As if he might turn on them at any moment. 

People usually mosey up to him because of a favour. Because of his status, his reputation. Because they want something out of him. 

But not you. No. Daemon knows that he has only ever inspired love in you.

Well, that and what might have been absolute surprise followed by wariness, when he was suddenly sprung into your world, injured and in a coat of full armour.

He chuckles, a low, throaty sound, before kissing you again, slower this time, savouring the feel of your lips against his. The kiss is deep, full of promises and unspoken words, and when he pulls away, he whispers, “No one can ever replace you.”

He has never been a devout man, but in that moment, he curses all the gods that you two are apart. Meeting in this middle-realm is insufficient. He feels you, somehow. But he does not feel you truly, not the goosebumps on your skin and the hitches in your breath. You are there, but you are not. 

But it will have to do. For now.

“Is this ailing you? Sustaining a connection like this, in this place?” Daemon asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

You shake your head. “Not really,” you admit, though there’s a heaviness in your limbs that you know will come crashing down later. “Dessa says I’ll feel quite exhausted afterward, but it shouldn’t take too big of a toll on me. At least, it’s not as bad as when I will actually be able to transport myself fully. I’m learning the ropes, and there’s a lot to learn. I mean… this is fucking insane.”

Daemon’s eyes flicker with something unreadable—pride, awe, something deeper. “And here you thought me extraordinary. When it was you all along.”

“Hardly.” You smile in return. “I’m not the only one, it seems. And, my great-grandmother… she was from your world.” 

He brushes a stray strand from your face.

Suddenly, the memory of that first night hits you, and maybe you had already known then. Maybe you had always known.

“The Rogue Prince and his Realmwalker. We were always meant to find each other.”

Tears prick at your eyes, and you blink them away quickly, unwilling to break the fragile spell that’s bound the two of you in this moment. “Always,” you whisper, the word filled with every ounce of longing you’ve carried for him.

But then panic grips you as the fog begins to dissipate. You can feel your magic waning, the connection fraying. 

“Daemon!” you call, but his figure fades quickly.

With a sudden rush, you're pulled back into your realm, losing him once more. 

“Fuck!” Daemon curses aloud, his voice echoing through the empty tower. Treesa, ever watchful, takes a cautious step back, unsure whether to comfort or retreat. She’s seen Daemon angry before, but this—this is different.

“My prince?” she inquires softly. “I felt the shift. She made contact, didn’t she? You saw her?”

He shoots her a dark glare, emotions swirling within him. “Get out,” he growls, the anguish unmistakable in his tone as he wrestles with the loss of you.

“She will find a way,” Treesa says, her voice filled with conviction, just before walking through the doorway. 

He wonders what you’re doing now. Are you just as exhausted, lying back in your bed, trying to regain your strength after the toll of the projection? He imagines you staring at the ceiling, thinking of him, feeling the same ache in your chest that he feels now.

He curses under his breath again, fists clenching at his sides. 

This is unbearable.

December 2023 / the 12th Moon, 113 AC

The clutter of your apartment feels oppressive, and you feel as if you don’t recognise it anymore. Like it’s no longer yours, but not only because of Daemon, but because of everything you've been going through in the past month.

 Shadows cling to the corners, stretching out as the waning light filters through the window. Shards of moonstone and ashes are strewn across the floor, remnants of failed attempts, each one a testament to the desperation that fills the air. In the centre of it all, you stand, your palm decorated with pinpricks of blood.

Dessa, once a nurturing figure whom you thought you can lean on, has become an intense shadow, her eyes blazing with expectation. “Again,” she commands, her voice unwavering.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to focus. You feel the familiar warmth of your magic stir within you, a fountain of energy waiting to burst forth. “I can’t keep doing this,” you admit, your voice strained. “I’m exhausted.”

Dessa’s expression hardens, her lips pressing into a thin line. “You must,” she insists, her tone sharper now, laced with an urgency that makes your stomach churn. “Time is running out. You need to learn to harness your power. It’s the only way to reach Prince Daemon.”

A flicker of anger rises within you, as it had several times before. On one occasion, you had nearly screamed in an outburst, saying, “If it’s that important, why can’t you just transport me to Westeros yourself? You’re the one with the experience.”

The air had grown thick as Dessa’s eyes flashed with something dangerous. “If I could, don’t you think I would have done it already? It takes immense power to transport another Realmwalker, and it might harm me in the process.”

You felt a wave of guilt wash over you. Dessa has sacrificed so much,  and it’s not fair to place your own frustrations on the woman who has dedicated herself to training you. Yet, beneath the guilt lay an undercurrent of anger—a rising tide that threatens to drown you in self-doubt. 

“I’m tired of feeling weak,” you finally admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Dessa’s expression softens for just a moment, but it quickly hardens again. “Weakness is a luxury we cannot afford,” she replies, her voice firm. “Every moment you hesitate, you risk losing him forever.”

The words strike a chord, igniting a fire within you. You feel the heat of your magic surge, almost instinctively. It catches you both off guard, your energy force spilling out unbidden. 

The air crackles around you as your power begins to swell, something that demands to be unleashed. Your connection to Daemon calls to you, guiding you through the storm. And for a moment, you stand on the precipice of something immense.

“Channel that feeling!” Dessa encourages. “Let it guide you! You’re capable of so much more than you realise.”

With a determined breath, you extend your hands, feeling the now-familiar rush of energy coiling within you. You recall the incantation, the rhythm of the words echoing in your mind, and you begin to chant.

Dessa watches, her expression shifting from pride to mania, and you catch a flicker of something darker behind your mentor’s facade. The obsessiveness in her eyes, the way she leans in closer as if willing the magic to surge faster—it’s unsettling.

“Keep going!” Dessa urges, her voice now tinged with a hint of urgency that hints at deeper stakes. “You’re almost there!”

Your pulse races, the magic thrumming through you like a living entity. But you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. It feels like a game of cat and mouse, where you are the latter, running from unseen predators lurking in the shadows.

You feel the world around you dissolve, and in the swirling chaos, you steel yourself for what lies ahead. 

With a final surge of strength, you push yourself into the void. 

You are no longer in your apartment.

The familiar surroundings of your measly apartment have vanished, replaced by a darkness punctuated by the soft glow of stars overhead. A cool breeze brushes against your skin, carrying the earthy scent of pine and damp soil. As your heart races, a thrill courses through your veins—you’ve done it. 

You’ve Realmwalked, so to speak, and the woods you stand in are unfamiliar, but you sense that you’ve landed in Westeros. Hopefully, close to where Daemon is, if your visualisation proved effective. 

But something feels off. As you stand there, trying to catch your breath, an uneasy sensation creeps into your chest. There’s something lurking in the shadows. Something—someone—is watching you. 

With quick, purposeful steps, you begin making your way through the dense trees, senses heightened as you listen to every rustle of leaves, every whisper of wind. The path before you is faint, but you follow it, hoping it will lead you closer to Daemon. The thought of him fuels your determination, but the further you walk, the deeper the sense of unease sinks into your bones. The woods feel alive, as though the very ground beneath your feet is shifting. Something is wrong.

Then, as if answering your fear, a figure steps out from the shadows. She’s tall, with sharp, regal features and eyes that seem to pierce through the darkness.

You freeze, heart pounding in your chest. 

“You are finally here,” the stranger says, her voice smooth yet dripping with sinister intention. “We have been waiting for you.”

Panic rises in your throat. “Where… where is Prince Daemon?” The question flies out of you.

Her lips curl into a predatory smile as she steps closer. “You have come to us, just as we hoped. Dessa was right. I can… feel you… and you are more powerful than my sister made you out to be.”

“What do you want from me?” you demand, though a part of you already knows the answer. If Dessa is her sister, this can only be Treesa or Verness. Realmwalker too, from what little you’ve heard of them. 

There’s something deeply unsettling about the way she looks at you—like you’re not a person but a weapon, an object, something to be used.

“The time has come to fulfil our plans,” Treesa replies, her smile chilling as she closes the distance between you. “You were the last Realmwalker in Korzion. Your power is vital for what is to come.”

“I won’t be part of your plans. I just came here for Daemon,” you spit, taking a step back. But as you do, you feel the weight of Treesa’s magic press down on you, nigh inescapable.

“You do not have a choice,” she says, her voice soft and musical, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. “You are part of something much bigger than you can comprehend. You cannot escape it.”

And then it hits you. This was a trap all along. You were led here—by Dessa, by their lies—and now they have you. All the training, the pushing, it was never about helping you find Daemon. It was about getting you here, into their hands.

Before you can react, Treesa makes her move. With a flick of her wrist, a sudden wave of magic surges toward you. Your entire being feels heavy as the force of it pulls you down. You try to fight it, adrenaline roaring through you as you attempt to run, but it’s too late. She has the upper hand.

Treesa steps closer, her voice laced with satisfaction. “You are ours now.”

Your vision blurs as Treesa’s magic takes hold, and suddenly, everything becomes fuzzy.

“No,” you mumble weakly, your body collapsing against the cold, damp earth. “I won’t let you…”

“Let me?” she laughs mockingly. 

Just as you succumb to nothingness, you mumble weakly, “Daemon will find me...”

Not far from the edge of the woods, a few smallfolk huddle near their huts, tending to their evening fires. The sky above is painted with the deep coating of the midnight hour when they notice something strange—a woman, dressed in unfamiliar garb, struggling against another in the distance. They don’t dare get too close, but they watch, wide-eyed, as the second woman drags the first into the shadows of the trees.

A few whispers are exchanged, and soon, one of the men runs off to report what he’s seen to the Gold Cloaks.

Hours later, word reaches the Red Keep. The rumour travels quickly—Gold Cloaks to the Kingsguard, the Kingsguard to the Hand, and finally, it reaches the ears of King Viserys himself.

He listens with a frown, trying to make sense of the strange report. But it isn’t until Daemon enters the room that everything clicks into place.

Daemon’s expression shifts the moment he hears the tale. The description of the woman—the unfamiliar clothes, her behaviour—it all points to one thing, one person.

You.

“She is here,” Daemon says, voice tight with certainty. “I know it.”

Viserys looks at him, startled by the sudden intensity in his brother’s voice. “Do you truly believe so?”

Daemon nods, his heart pounding. “She has to be.”

Before Viserys can respond, the heavy doors of the throne room swing open. Otto Hightower enters, purposefully striding towards the gathering at the head of the room.

“Your Grace,” Otto begins with a slight bow, his eyes flickering over Daemon. “There has been another incident. The priestess Treesa… She is nowhere to be found within the Red Keep. Her chambers have been emptied, and we also questioned the servants, to no avail. She is no longer here to be subject to questioning.”

Daemon’s jaw tightens, a fury building inside him. His voice is cold, his temper barely contained. “When did anyone last see her?”

“in this previous twilight's hours,” Otto replies. “Since then, there has been no sign of her. I have sent guards to roam the keep, but nothing.”

Daemon lets out a harsh laugh, though there’s no humour in it. “Of course she is gone. Mayhaps they have been planning this the whole time. And we let them.”

The realm feels unsteady beneath his feet, the ground trembling with the potential for chaos. Do they not know who he is? Are they not afraid of what he is capable of? Even devoid of sorcery and magic and whatever fucking trickery those priestesses have devised, he is still Daemon Targaryen.

“Prepare the men,” he orders, voice sharp and decisive. “We will search every inch of the Seven Kingdoms until we find her.”

If they think they can take what is his, they will learn that he is not called the Rogue Prince for nothing. 

And he will find you.

*flashback* February 2023 / the 2nd Moon, 113 AC

One chilly evening, you decided to introduce Daemon to the concept of proper movie night. You had gathered a few classics, a mountain of blankets, and an assortment of snacks that would put any royal feast to shame.

“I still cannot believe that this is how you spend your evenings, ” Daemon mutters sardonically as he examined the spread.

“You know it. It’s all about relaxation and enjoyment,” you replied, tossing him a handful of popcorn.

You settled onto the couch, and as the opening credits rolled, Daemon found himself surprisingly captivated, laughing at moments that you found endearing.

“What sorcery is this?” he exclaimed after a particularly action-packed scene. “How can a mere flickering light command such power?”

“It’s all about storytelling,” you explained, leaning closer. “It takes you away from your world, even if just for a moment.”

He turned to you, his expression softening. “And what story do you wish to escape to, my love?”

As you paused to consider his question, you felt a warmth spreading within you. The film played on, but your mind raced to find the right answer. For the first time in your life, you realised that maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to escape to anywhere anymore. 

You glanced at Daemon, his eyes reflecting the light from the screen, a small smile dancing on his lips. In this shared space, enveloped by blankets and laughter, you understood that he had become a part of your story. Whether it be in distant lands or magical realms, or simply in the confines of your apartment, if he was with you, then it would be an adventure.

It would be a tale worth telling. 

“I think,” you said softly, as you faced the screen with a faraway look in your eyes, “I’ve found a place where I want to stay.”

Daemon’s brow furrowed slightly, and he studied you with a look that suggested he understood more than you had said.

“As do I,” he replied. 

series taglist: @omgsuperstarg @moonmaiden1996 @iilsenewman @padfootsvixen @teapartydreams @sleephereicome @dixie-elocin @simplymurdock @cecespizza01 @imissyoudarling @rentsturner @itevilhag @kindaslightlyacidic @naelys-the-aster @zoleea-exultant @moongirl27 @schniiipsel @dreaming-for-an-escape @llovinjoonie @outocean @caspianobsessed @grimistangel @ladespedidas @nanabarnes @luckythirtxn97 @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @stella-cadante @milber32 @canvashearts @nitimurinvetitumsposts @kryzeira @captainweirdo42 @eternallyvenus @fuzzybunny83 @cookielovesbook-akie @queenofshinigamis @avadakadabra93 @rebeccawinters @partypoison00 @misspendragonsworld @praline357 @mysingularitybts @milber32 @rikishima19 @ivvypg @novellaquill @fan-goddess @ayamenimthiriel @uniquecroissant

Some notes in the margins...

This chapter was a bit dry, I must admit. But consider it as a setup for the fiasco that is the finale, which will be 18+. Just a heads up.

Any guesses on what will happen? As always I am keen to hear your thoughts 🖤

[taro-pdf]

Humans Are Space Orcs, Some Aliens are Smol, and There is No Escaping Your Past

Prak waited curiously in front of the ship that hired him. He was here for security, but to be able to actually secure anything, he’d need to be able to get on board; the little contraption before him was only half his height. His employers must have seen his resume and size, though, so Prak bent down to knock on the pop-tart sized door. He wished he had a pop-tart right now.

After a moment, there was a hiss as the gangway lowered and a few blobs exited. They discussed among themselves, voices high whines just above Prak’s ability to hear them, then went in again. A few moments later, the ship shuttered and groaned. Its walls shifted and slid—and for lack of a better word—melted around itself, expanding mechanically until a more much larger transport sat in front of him. A final sigh and everything settled into place.

Prak blinked. 

The now human sized door hissed open again and one of the blobs reemerged. it approached Prak and put a tiny arm on the toe of his shoe.

Can you hears me? It said. Thought?

“Uh,” Prak said, intelligently.

I am Maomi, xing-ren, e/em/eir. The blob stared unblinkingly up at Prak. You are large, but now fit inside now.

In his head, Prak thought: “ok telepathy via touch, that’s new.” Out loud, he said, “Prak, human, he/they. I am excited to work with you.”

Thank you. Before I go, I give small briefing. As you know, we transporting exotic human fruits. We hope that since you are a human, you know how to respect them and do not touching. Maomi released his boot and es voice stopped. E turned and beconed Prak to follow em.

Prak squinted as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. It better not be the fruit he was thinking it would be. He cautiously followed em onboard. And found himself among walls lined with fresh pineapple.

Fuck.

[lukolabrainrot]

Calm theory anon here. I was reading blogs and came across a couple narratives that I wanna give my opinion on for what it's worth. The idea that Luke and Nic are fighting because he didn't like her recent post. The thing that I find most hilarious is I have seen so many people shaming others for assuming more is going on BTS then what we the public are seeing. yet people have made it up in their heads that L and N are fighting. So it's okay for you to think there some big beef but it's not okay to think L and N are in some type of relationship. In order to assess this you kinda have to look at habits. Guys if you look back at a lot of Luke SM habits on insta he doesn't always like everything she post. Maybe it didn't come across his FYP. Or maybe he was told not to like it. I will tell you what I did notice. Luke as I said doesn't like every post of Nic. The other photos that he didn't like were Galway and Brazil. Both places clearly held a lot of meaning for them. So in my delusional state I'm going to go an assume it's the same reasoning. Now Nic is human as we all know. She is flawed and imperfect. But I will be forward in saying if Luke not liking a post of hers actual bothered her she would let him know. She doesn't seem to be that insecure that a like on a SM post would affect her. Now I can honestly say we have all met those woman that demand that but not all woman need a like. I would rather you be there for me in person and tell me in person then make it an obligation. That you must like every post is an obligation that is given. So how does it hold any type of meaning then if a man is only liking a post out of obligation? It takes away any type of meaning and makes it the same as brushing your teeth daily. Also I find this narrative to be very dangerous the idea that Luke chose someone else over Nic. I have one question for those that think this. Have any of you ever dated someone you were extremely close to? And don't tell me they aren't close. You don't know that. They have alluded to hanging out without camera around in interviews. But moving from friends to lovers is an actual scary step. If things end badly you lose your BFF so yes that step should be thought over and discussed. So how do we know they have discussed it? How do we know if they have even stated how they felt? Feelings like this aren't always easy to convey. It's fine to make assumptions. It's understandable to want to explore the reasoning on why they do things. But just remember no one actual knows. But some of these narratives have brought a lot of hate on Luke and Nic and that's all they are narratives. Now my opinion has always been like that on LukolaBrainrot. I think a lot more is happening BTS. We just have to be patient. This isn't our relationship. We aren't celebrities. They have a team of people behind them. They have got this figured out, and I truly believe they will tell us when they are ready.

Thank you Calm Theory Anon!!

I'm just going add a couple more of my thoughts about the last couple of weeks. Note: This is all SPECULATION from the evidence of the last couple of weeks. I feel pretty confident though in my theories. Heads up, this is going to be long:

I firmly believe L was with N in NYC. Did we see him... no. Did we see JD... yes. That's not new though, and signals to me there is nothing to hide there and keep private. We can argue all we want about the handholding video, it doesn't change my opinion. Was I caught off guard... yes, very much so. But it doesn't confirm anything (JUST LIKE PAPGATE DIDN'T ACTUALLY CONFIRM L/A WERE IN A RELATIONSHIP), and I feel more confident than ever that that is one of her closest FRIENDS. If you don't believe that though, I know I won't be able to convince you otherwise. People have also argued that there would have been a sighting (photo/video) of L in NY if he was there. Y'ALL, there were NUMEROUS unconfirmed "sightings" of L while they were in NY... from NY itself, to Cyprus, to Brighton, to Scotland, etc. We have had ZERO in real time photos or videos of him since Sorrento. There's a reason for that... the man is GOOD at being incognito (when he doesn't have people around him blowing up his location in real time). And he's DEFINITELY more famous in London. Period. So if he has been able to go incognito in London for two months, he can go incognito in NY for a week. I'm also going to say this. N stands out a lot more than L, and is a lot more recognizable. I think L can kind of blend into the crowd easier. AND DM just seems to HATE N. Lastly, L/N 100% coordinated those travel posts. They are BOTH smart people and know their fans. They wanted us to know they were in NY together. They wanted us to see that her claddagh is on her left hand now. They wanted us to see the pic of L in N's house while she was getting ready with a ring on his ring finger. They wanted us to see a red bag in the background of her hair product story (regardless if that was the same red bag from L's Brb story). These clues are not subtle. Like the fact is they are in a relationship, and personally, I think they have been for a whileeee. But there appears to be a certain subsection of this fandom that just refuses to listen to the public narrative that L/N have been putting out about each other. And this is how we ended up with the handholding video debacle. A lot of celebs never even give crumbs/clues about their relationship until they are officially public. L/N know their fandom though and knew we would have fun with it. We should consider ourselves very lucky that they catered to us this way. They didn't have to. I don't think they hate MOST of their fandom, but I do think there is a certain subsection of this fandom that has been VERY toxic and they are VERY frustrated with. Which is totally valid.

This leads me to L's story today with the Mayfair comment. The fact is is that there is a VERY good chance that pic was not taken in real time [please do your own research to know why]... I think the point was that he wanted to add to what N said at the Time Award this week and confirm that they are back in Bton mode. Doesn't confirm that they are back in London though. Could they be? Yes. Could they still be in the U.S.? Yes. I think he also wanted to follow up regarding A's SM blast yesterday and reiterate they are no longer connected despite the games she plays that I am almost certain is included in her NDA. He also turned off comments pretty quickly on this story. He hasn't done that at all this summer [I believe] with his stories or posts, despite the onslaught of hate he has received this summer on SM. I think him and N have been testing the water since August to gauge where the fandom was at with their feelings about them as a couple, and wanted to try and minimize the backlash they will receive when they go public. The fact is is that it is pretty common for celebrity couples to receive a certain amount of backlash when they go public (the amount is what varies depending on the situation). With THIS fandom though, and everything that has gone down publicly since the London premiere, there will 100% be backlash from some when L/N go public. I think the comments being off is because L is setting the stage to announce their relationship, and let the cards fall as they may. And comments will be turned OFF. L/N will probably have a certain amount of hate sent to them for a few weeks, as well as adjacent people in their life, but people will get over it. I could be wrong of course, but I have a very strong feeling that they are setting the stage to just announce their relationship. I originally had the expectation that they were planning to go public at some point in NY, but I think what was my own lack of patience more than anything lol I think it was just setting the stage for a public announcement that wouldn't overshadow her accomplishment after they get back from NY. But he wanted people to know (who were paying attention) that he was with her and supporting her during this big moment (even if we weren't going to see them together). I am going to say this one more time. We can argue all we want about the coordinated travel posts, and project out whatever narrative makes us feel better and ease our anxieties. The fact is L/N aren't stupid. They know their fans. They coordinated those posts. They wanted us to know they were in NY together. They wanted us to see the rings. Because they are in a relationship. Period. No one can convince me otherwise atp.

This brings me to my last point... the handholding debacle. N lost control of her public narrative with that. It's just a fact. Her privacy was also violated. Also a fact. I don't believe she was as well prepared as she should have been for the amount of attention she was going to receive in NY, or the frenzy around her and JD. This had to have been a difficult experience for her and everyone involved. Unfortunately, I believe a lot of the interest in a particular group of the fandom has been almost solely on trying to prove that N is in a relationship. She is not defined by who she is dating. L is not defined by who he is dating. No one is defined by who they are dating. So I think N responded impulsively because she was fed up with all of this speculation about who she is dating (when I feel like she has made it pretty clear what is going on for her in that department) and the invasion of her privacy. This is also why I believe it was very strategically planned for neither L NOR JD to interact with her Time post for a while. BECAUSE THAT AWARD WAS ALL ABOUT HER AND HER ACCOMPLISHMENT. It wasn't about them. And eventually L did like it... he was literally with her though the whole trip y'all. Sure he congratulated her in person 😉 And he made sure to put the like so people wouldn't flip out and start spewing that they are beefing and hated each other and whatever other misinformation people would have come up with if he hadn't have liked her post. I think it is also strategic that JD hasn't liked her post yet, because I think he is trying to publicly distance himself from the narrative that was spewed about him and N last weekend. I bet he has also privately congratulated N though as well!

I definitely understand, last weekend was a MAJOR whiplash of emotions. However, I feel like a lot of this fandom reacts emotionally before having all the information (I know I am guilty of that as well sometimes). That is why I took a little break this week from the blog, because I was having a lot of emotions and didn't have enough information at the time to really understand what was going on. I also think there are a lot of narratives put out there in this fandom that are put forth as facts, without a lot of evidence backing it up. And it has turned really toxic in some spheres and led to troubling behavior (ex: the handholding video). I mentioned that I do think N wasn't as prepared as she should have been for the attention she was going to receive in NY (and the coordinated travel posts announcing L/N were going to NY probably didn't help the frenzy), but that behavior from the fan was troubling and not alright.

These are human beings, their lives are messy and complicated just like everyone else's. We also don't actually know these people, and I think we have a lot of questions still, and get anxious that we aren't interpreting information correctly. I have mentioned this before, but I am a VERY jaded person when it comes to the human species. I truly think L/N seem to be very kind and genuine people though, and I don't think they would do a bunch of things just to f*ck with their fans (although they have LOTS of reasons to be upset at some of this fandom). If the dating rumors were totally false, they wouldn't have started feeding into it again in August and would have officially corrected the narrative after the 90 days were over. That isn't what they did though. They both have good teams behind them, and they have a plan for how they want to go public with their relationship. They have been setting the stage for a while. We just have to be patient. It seems to be coming very soon though with the recent moves online and on SM from L/N. And tbh, if you have really been paying attention, L/N have been telling us they are in a relationship for a whileeee. It's pretty obvious to me (IMO).

Again, THIS IS PURELY SPECULATION AND THEORIES FROM WHAT I HAVE OBSERVED!

[looking-for-wisdom]

the “ex-something” character in disco elysium is so interesting to me because what we finally learn about the true Dora from harry’s dream sequence & conversations with the 41st precinct initially undercuts the first impression you get as a player. We learn things that makes it seem like Harry should be over her leaving. Specifically, the fact that she and Harry were never actually married and that it has been six years since she left.

Everything we’re told about Dora needs to be taken with a grain of salt, since it primarily comes from Harry. He’s an unreliable narrator and, if we had her perspective on things, there would surely be more to the story. But even with that said, I feel reasonably confident that the player’s first impression — that whoever this ex is did some damage even beyond typical breakup heartbreak — isn’t completely wrong.

We know a few things for certain. Harry was a gym teacher before they met, and Dora was the reason he joined the RCM. We can also do the math to figure out that they were together for around 12 years. Married or not, that’s a serious relationship. There are implications that Dora might have been pregnant at some point.

Dora’s family was wealthier than Harry’s, but they struggled financially when they were together. They had to rely on her parents for support.

Harry is a grown ass man who is responsible for his own choices. None of this changes that. But the way he is starts to make more sense when you consider that it wasn’t just their breakup that was traumatic. Their relationship itself seems unhealthy.

Harry clearly likes working with kids. Kim actually points out how he is easily able to connect with Cuno and the other teens in Martinase. With that in mind, I imagine he probably liked being a gym teacher. But we learn that Dora encourages him to join the RCM to do more for the greater good. Again, Harry had to agree to this — she didn’t force him to quit at gunpoint. But it rubs me the wrong way that, shortly after they start dating, she implies that his work isn’t fulfilling or important (probably patently untrue in an area where kids won’t necessarily have stable home lives). And, more than that, she suggests that joining the police is the solution.

Granted, we’re told there’s a lot of crime in Jamrock. Maybe it is as simple as her thinking law enforcement helps prevent that. But given the political tones of the game, which intentionally critique cops and the moralist forces they represent? I think it’s notable.

Speaking of which. The class difference between Dora and Harry has to be thematic. So much of the game discusses the struggle between the working class and the bourgeoisie. There’s an inherent power dynamic there. It’s her parents who are consistently paying their bills and keeping them afloat. She has an out that Harry doesn’t. Money won’t be an issue for her when they split, but Harry will be left without any support. Regardless of whether she intentionally held this over his head, this game shows that even without meaning to, the capitalist system harms the poor. That strain must be felt in their relationship, and could cause a lot of damage over 12 years.

All this to say: their relationship clearly wasn’t some fling. And, if Harry is to be believed, the blame for things falling apart was largely placed on him: working to much, not bringing home enough money, not being enough. But even if Dora wasn’t actively manipulating him and he came up with all of this on his own, I think the facts still point to a dynamic where he was made to be small in the face of a woman who came from more. Their backgrounds create an imbalance where Harry was always going to feel the flaws in their relationship more acutely. He starts with little, and gives up much of what he does have to pursue something better for the both of them. But when that isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, he’s the only one left with nothing. She can leave the country and start over.

It makes sense, to me, that he might not have recovered from that in six years. Especially when that rock bottom feeling seems so permanent that he isn’t trying to get better so much as numb himself enough to exist another day.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t responsible or that he’s exempt from having to get his shit together. The game very clearly illustrates that everyone will turn away from him if he doesn’t. But it does complicate his character a bit more than “got left by extremely bangable woman, proceeds to make the lives of everyone around him worse.”

[justastraymoa]

Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 3

Masterlist taglist

Hard conversations and 1st meal with the Omegas.

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl

There was one open seat left in the living room. An oversized, overstuffed chair. I moved around the others, not missing the way they leaned towards me to sniff as I passed by. I wanted to hug myself and hide. It was very weird to be sniffed so openly.

Felix sat close to Chan, still not looking up. Chan had an arm over his lap.

“Anyone here not completely convinced y/n is their Alpha? Our Alpha?” Chan asked.

I looked around the room, no one spoke up or raised their hand.

"None of the other Alphas even came close to smelling like her. My instincts are going crazy right now.” Hyunjin confirmed.

"Hey Chan.” I spoke saccharine sweet.

“Yeah?” He replied.

“I hate you.”

"No, you don’t. You’re just being dramatic.”

"My life is over! I’m allowed to be dramatic!

Chan just rolled his eyes, ignoring my entire fucking crisis. I wanted to scream, cry, and punch him all at the same time.

"Hyung, you said you were going to explain.” Changbin reminded.

And so, Chan went on to tell everyone all about his quick trip to my small town and the deal that was made. It occurred to me that I never planned beyond the week. Never in my wildest dreams did I think I would be the one to be able to bond with them. So, I made no plans on what to do next. If I should do anything.

“So, you’re not going to bond us?” Seungmin asked when Chan was finished.

They were all looking at me again, making me feel incredibly self-conscious. “I didn’t plan on this actually working.” I was the only response I would truly, honestly give them. I didn’t know what to do now.

"She is going to be here for the week. No one is going to bug or pressure her to stay beyond that.” Chan warned. “Let JYP and I discuss it with her.”

And I’m sure there will be a lot of discussions. A lot of promises made. Guilt trips. I would get it all.

"So, nothing’s been solved. We are still just as screwed as ever.” Lee Know sounded angry and I looked at my lap knowing this was all because of me.

I stood up. “Maybe I should go-“ I pointed a thumb at the door.

“No!” The response was immediate and from every Omega in the room, making me blink.

Han reached and grabbed my forearm. “You promised a week.” He reminded. His chemo signals smelled of anxiety and fear.

“To a hotel. I was going to say to a hotel.” I finished. I had meant to suggest the hotel to give them time to discuss this without me.

“We can’t guarantee no one will smell your subgender in a hotel. It’s not safe.” Cahn reminded gently.

I let my head fall back before I dropped into a crouched ball and hid my face in my knees and arms, tears threatening behind my eyes. Everything was so messed up now.

I felt someone crouch next to me and start to rub my back, but I didn’t look to see who.

"You guys know how dangerous it can be for an Alpha nowadays.” Chan started talking again, softly. “We have heard horror stories from almost every Alpha we’ve tried. y/n has been hiding her subgender with suppressants. Even coming here is a huge risk for her. Let’s all keep that in mind.”

There was a heavy thump on my upper arm that I assumed was the person rubbing my back resting their forehead on me. The contacts made me feel better.

They showed me to what appeared to be a guest bedroom. There were faint scents of other Alphas so this must have been made up specifically for potential bonding Alphas. It even has its own bathroom. It just reminded me again what I am really here for.

I sighed and bid them goodnight, shutting the door with no plans to actually sleep. I was on an opposite sleep schedule then them. And I slept on the plane not too long ago.

By the end of the week, I’ll be on the same sleep schedule as them, only to go home and repeat the whole process all over again.

Instead, I stripped off my clothes and ran a nice hot bath. Grabbing my phone and a book I brought I slowly settled into the water, hoping for a relaxing time reading and doom scrolling to pass the night.

I did manage a few hours of sleep near dawn. Hopefully enough to get me through the day. I was awake and dressed for the day when Chan knocked on my door. I bid him enter.

“Um, breakfast is ready.” He informed. He looked unsure.

I nodded. “I’ll be right out.” I needed a moment to gather the strength and courage to face everyone again. My dream of meeting Stray Kids has turned into a nightmare.

But instead of leaving, Chan stepped in and shut the door. I watched him in question.

"I wanted to apologize for last night. Things did not go like any of us planned.”

I snorted softly. That was an understatement. “It’s fine, Chan. I just-I don’t know what to do now.” I admitted.

He smiled sadly and nodded. “Well, you have all week to figure it out. In the meantime, just enjoy your time here.”

I followed Chan out to the table where everyone was sitting in varying stages of being awake. I sat at an empty chair between Seungmin and I.N, noticing no one had started eating yet. I wondered what they were waiting on.

When I was settled I.N started putting food on my plate for me. Heavy on all the best stuff. Then he sat back, and everyone looked at me. I blinked not knowing what they wanted.

“You have to start eating.” Han whispered helpfully from across the table.

“Why?” I whispered back. I was the only one with food, it would be rude to eat in front of them.

“You’re Alpha.” He said it like that explained everything.

“It’s an instinct thing. Just take a bite.” Seungmin sounded exasperated with the whole thing.

So, I picked up my chopsticks and took a bite. As soon as I did, they flurried into motion, filling their own plate and eating. Then I realized what happened. It finally clicked into place.

Their Omega instincts wouldn’t let them start eating until their freaking Alpha did. I felt sick to my stomach suddenly and set my chopsticks down.

I stayed at the table only because if I left it would have upset them, but I couldn’t bring myself to eat another bite. If any of them noticed, they didn’t bring it up. Instead, they talked amongst themselves, pretty much ignoring me entirely now that I did what they needed.

Slowly they all finished and left the table to start their day, leaving the dishes, leftovers, and me alone at the table. My eyes pricked with tears again as I started to gather dishes to clean up.

This is what they expected from their Alpha. Follow them around the world, take care of them, clean up after them, fulfill their instinctual needs. If I stayed, that’s what I had to look forward to at “home”. Meanwhile, their managers would shape me into the idol Alpha that can be seen with Stay Kids and make them money.

I put away the food, did the dishes, wiped the table, and swept the floor all in silence. While I did, I could hear the 8 Omegas going about their day. A small group was in the living room playing games. Some were in their rooms; doors open but doing their own thing. They were loud, yelling at each other from different rooms. Chaotic as they enjoyed their days.

With nothing else to do I set up my laptop at the table, put some headphones in, and logged into work. I would get an email from my boss later since I was supposed to be on vacation, but it was after hours back home, so he wouldn’t know for hours yet, and I needed a distraction.

There wasn’t so much a lunch as people made something to eat when they were hungry, so I was spared being used as an Alpha for the moment. I had a feeling dinner would not be the same story.

Not even one of them spoke to me all day. Ignored my presence as if I was a lamp or coffee table, only interacting with me when they needed me.

“You’re stinking up the room.” Lee Know complained as I.N filled up my dinner plate.

I had been in my own depressing thoughts as I stared at my plate. Instead of answering him I took a bite of food and chewed as they all loaded their dishes.

I was once again left with clean up.

As I was washing dishes, the doorbell rang. Assuming someone would get it, I kept washing. The bell rang again a minute later.

“Someone get the door!” Seungmin yelled.

I sighed as I dried my hands as I walked over to the door. It was JYP. “Chans in the living room.” I informed him as I went back to the dishes.

But he followed me instead. “They already have you doing chores, huh?” He joked.

I tried to smile, but my lips wobbled dangerously so I quickly looked away, back to the dishes. “Just doing my job. An Alpha takes care of their Omegas. Even prospective ones. However temporary.”

That’s right. This was only for the promised week. I didn’t have to stay. They weren’t my Omegas. 1 week, and my end of the bargain was fulfilled. Just play their game.

Since I was avoiding looking up from the dishes, I was startled when JYPs hand entered my vision, gently taking the sponge. I looked over. He had rolled his sleeves up to the elbows.

“Let me help. You can dry.” He said gently.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb

[mooestriovermind]

Hypnosis - Everything can work

It's the combination of the desire to be hypnotized and the understanding that you can be hypnotized that combines together to make someone susceptible to trance. If you know how easy it is to go under, but you don't want to, you won't. Vice versa, if you want really bad to drop, but feel that it's impossible to do so, you won't fall.

Some people are in the second boat- quite a few, actually. If you want to be hypnotized, but think that your mentality or a certain mental illness prevents you from being hypnotized, you misunderstand. Everyone can experience trance. Many frequently have and didn't attribute the state they were in as hypnosis. It doesn't even require the ability to picture something in your head, or the ability to focus. Hypnosis can be brief, it can be long, but it is accessible by everyone. You need only notice that you're being hypnotized, and recognize that it can happen, in order for it to happen.

Take for example, right now. You've been reading down this informative post, your curiosity piqued by the knowledge I have to offer. And thusly, you have locked your attention on my words, here. Eager to learn, happy to recognize the hypnotic nature of a good monologue. Even if you don't picture a comfortable place like your back porch on a cool day or a beanbag when it's raining outside, you can still find it possible to recognize how my words affect you.

Even if they affect you minimally, it's possible that you still notice something as small as a change in your breathing. You see, small changes, however noticeable, tend to occur when you take note of the fact that someone is trying to hypnotize you. You can find it easy or difficult to follow what I'm saying, but ultimately you will be able to recognize that I am indeed trying to hypnotize you in this moment.

For some, the mere mention that someone may be actively hypnotizing them could lead to the familiar fuzzy feelings of trance to overtake them. Maybe you can already feel the sensations you recognize as trance. Maybe you don't know what hypnosis feels like! Maybe you've never been hypnotized (or you feel like you haven't) and you're just curious enough to keep reading. Either way, you are reading, and I am hypnotizing you, which means you are feeling at least somewhat different.

Considering that many experience trance in different ways from others, it's not entirely possible to say exactly how my words are making you feel. It could be any number of sensations or ideas. As long as you're capable of receiving sensory input or holding onto imaginative thoughts in some capacity, you are likely feeling open or even following along so closely that the world around you is no longer important.

Because you've read this far, I can imagine that I've successfully managed to at least entertain you. If you're feeling hypnotized, that's great! Keep feeling those sensations and keep allowing your behavior to adjust according to my words. If not, that's fine too! I've entertained you enough to provide you with some useful information that may assist you in any number of hypnotic endeavors.

Of course, all trances must end, and so must every Tumblr post. Finite and measurable, this little script and informative text must now draw to a close. You'll be able to awaken from any trance you may be in- as everyone is fully in control of their own hypnosis experience. Don't let anyone trick you into thinking that you can't resist, or that you absolutely must stay entranced. This is a sign that you're either doing a discussed CNC scene, which is fine, or you're being approached by an abusive dominant, which is less fine. (Very important distinction!)

Either way, thank you for reading my post! I hope it provided at least a modicum of entertainment.

Farewell, and don't forget to stay hydrated!

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Six

Summary:

Astarion surprises you with a night at the theatre that doesn't go quite according to your plan.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4.7k Tags/Warnings: rough/angry sex, hair pulling, emotional manipulation, dubcon, bad BDSM practices, angst, daddy kink, reminiscent of Ascended!Astarion, discussions of domestic abuse (in Taming of the Shrew)

Hi. Hello. My sweets. My darlings. This is it. The chapter where you absolutely must mind the tags. Just know that I won't take you anywhere that we won't be able to come back from. Know that I, too, am an absolute baby when it comes to intense subject matter in fics. But I want you to take care of yourselves and your hearts. As always, shoot me a message if you'd like more specifics.

Photo credits: Zaria for Green Pussy Suit Astarion and Nephi Garcia for the incredible dress.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“In the library? Babes, are you insane?” Shadowheart's voice reaches a pitch you’re fairly sure only dogs can hear. You curl your knees into your chest and cover your face in your hands, feeling the exact appropriate amount of shame.

“I know, I know. All logic goes out the fucking window around him. All I can think is ‘mm, good dick makes brain go brr.’” You let out a frustrated sigh into your hands.

“Do you want to get fired?” She pulls your hand from your face so you can't hide from her pointed stare.

“Oh trust me, I ran about forty different scenarios of that happening through my head on the drive home.”

“Did you, now? And in how many of these did he also get fired?” Shadowheart presses, knowing how your anxiety can get out of hand.

“Like, two,” you groan and drop your head back onto the couch cushions. “I don't know what comes over me. I feel like I can't tell him no.”

“Wait, wait.” Shadowheart grips your knee, suddenly worried. “You can't tell him no as in it feels too good to stop? Or as in it doesn't feel safe to say no?”

“Nine hells, no, the first one!” you respond, horrified. She squints at you and you squirm under her gaze until you’re finally more truthful, both with her and yourself. “Well, I mean, mostly. Like it's not like that. But like also not not like that, you know?”

“I can assure you I do not,” she says in a flat voice, not interested in joking around. You sigh dramatically, trying to find the right words to describe how you feel.

“Like. Okay. Am I fully consenting to everything we do? Yes. 100%. Oh gods, yes.” Your cheeks tinge pink even thinking about it. “But like… am I going against my best judgment? Do I feel like I should say no? Does part of me kinda wish I would say no? Like… maybe?”

“Tav, that's not okay. You need to talk to him about this.” Shadowheart’s voice is soft with genuine worry. Which is ridiculous, because she’s focusing on the wrong thing.

“No, see, that's the thing. It's not actually a him issue, it's a me issue. Like there's something wrong with me, I see his most toxic traits and suddenly I'm like a horny teenager!” Your voice increases in pitch as you grow more hysterical. “How am I supposed to call him out on it when the only words that will come out of my mouth are ‘yes daddy, more please’?”

“Is there anything redeemable about him at all? Besides being good in bed?” She leans back, taking a sip of her wine and fixing you with an incredulous look. 

“I mean… yeah. He’s witty, and bantering back and forth with him is fun. He’s incredibly smart, as loath as I am to admit it, and I like hearing his ideas on things, especially his interpretation of Shakespeare’s text.” You don't even notice the smile growing on your face, but Shadowheart does. “And he’s got this unexpectedly soft side. Like he seems cold and aloof on the outside, but he cares, deeply. About his students, about his cat, about-”

“About you?” she interjects, and your smile falters.

“I don't know, Shade,” you say quietly, almost ashamed to look her in the eye. “I think so. I hope so. But it's not like we've been seeing each other for that long, he’s under no obligation to feel anything.” You practically swallow the last sentence, a truth you're reticent to voice. 

“And you?” she asks softly.

“Man, I don't fucking know. I just want to keep getting laid and not catch feelings, is that so much to ask?” you whine. She laughs, but you can tell that she's only humoring you.

“For you? Probably.”

***

It's been several days and your busy schedules have kept you and Astarion apart for most of it. Save the occasional tension-filled passing in the hall, you've barely interacted at all. You're almost beginning to believe that your whirlwind affair has come to an end when you find a mystery package at your apartment door.

It's made out to you with no discernable return address. You bring the box into your apartment while examining it, trying to ascertain its origin. It doesn't even really look like it was sent through the mail, it looks like it was dropped off.

You take out your phone and call down to the front desk. It rings a few times, then a somber voice answers.

“What dost thou require?” His voice is deep and crackled, like some ancient eternal being.

“Hi Withers, it's Tav in 3C. Do you know anything about this package that was left at my door?”

“I have inspected it, and determined it safe for you to open. It was brought by someone claiming to be a friend.”

“Can you tell me anything about this someone?”

“No.”

And the line goes dead. You laugh and shake your head. If Withers says it's safe, then it probably is. You’d trust that wrinkly old man with your life, honestly. You cut open the tape sealing the box shut and lift off the top.

Inside is something wrapped in tissue paper with a note stuck to it in Astarion's immaculate handwriting. 

Tomorrow evening The Rosewood Seven o’clock Wear nothing underneath

You let out a small involuntary moan when you read the last three words. You carefully unwrap the tissue paper to find a fabric that looks like it's made of starlight. You pull out the midnight black dress and go slightly breathless when you get a good look at it. 

It’s a backless dress with a sweetheart neckline and intricate gold embellishments that almost make it look like armor. It has a lavish gold neck piece attached by several gold chains that drip over the skin. The skirt is made of a weightless black fabric that shimmers with gold as you move it in the light. It almost appears to be cut into two panels with dual hip-high slits.

With a dress cut like this, you wouldn't be able to wear undergarments even if you wanted to.

Your heart hammers in your chest as you think about what he might have in store for you. You're not even sure what's running at the Rosewood right now, but it could be complete trash and you wouldn't even care. You probably won't even be able to pay attention, too distracted by Astarion sitting next to you for two hours.

You feel a pulsing between your legs at the thought. You think of his hand sliding up your knee while you struggle to keep a straight face. Or him reaching an arm around you, gently sliding his fingers into your hair before giving it a sharp tug.

Another moan works its way out of your throat and you follow it up with an annoyed groan. You can really get swept up at the most inconvenient times. It’s not like you don’t have any work you need to do or anything. You roll your eyes as you stalk off to draw a bath.

***

Waiting in the lobby of the theater, you’re feeling surprisingly nervous. The dress, though beautiful, is not particularly comfortable. With all of its various chains and pieces, you needed Shadowheart’s help just to put it on. It helps that she’s also incredibly talented when it comes to hair and makeup, so in truth you feel positively glamorous. 

When you see Astarion, however, everything goes silent. You’re certain that he’s posing for you the way he’s stopped to adjust his cuff. The cut of the suit he’s wearing is exceptionally flattering and you imagine running your hands all over the emerald velvet. His crisp white button down is almost sheer and you desperately want to pull him into you by that forest green silk tie. 

But you can’t tear your eyes away from his face. This is the first time you've seen him wear makeup, and the simple smokey eyeliner look makes his red irises pop. He’s decided to forgo his glasses, presumably opting for contacts instead to show off the makeup. He’s also swapped out his standard silver hoops for little daggers with a red rhinestone glimmering at the hilt. 

He looks up at you the moment you lay eyes on him, or more specifically, the moment your heart starts to beat out of your chest. He flashes you a devastating smile before striding up to you and pulling you into a deep kiss. You can’t even be bothered to care that the other patrons are probably staring as he slides his hand onto your bare lower back, his cool touch sending a shiver up your spine.

He pulls away from you just enough to breathlessly ask, “Are you ready to sit down?”

“Huh?” You’re distracted, too busy plotting a mental path to the bathrooms to fuck him. He lets out a winded chuckle.

“The play. House is open, would you care to find our seats?” His palm is still pressed against your back and you can barely form coherent thoughts. You still don’t even know what play you’re here to see. You just want—no, need—to be near him.

“Um, yeah,” you respond, still trying to get your bearings and remind yourself how to be a person. You let him lead you into the theater, and only once you're in your seats do you realize that neither of you grabbed a program. You pull out your phone to see if you can look it up, but service in the Rosewood is notoriously bad. Instead you just need to sit still next to Astarion, who looks like a dream and smells even better. 

He glances at you as your heart quickens again and his lips curl into a smile. He slips his hand behind your neck and lightly runs his finger along the seam between the golden collar of the dress and your flesh, sending goosebumps down your arms. He leans toward you until his lips are almost brushing your ear. 

“You look absolutely ravishing, my dear,” he whispers, his breath tickling your earlobe. You turn your face toward him on instinct, your chest heaving as you try to steady your breathing. Your lips hover inches apart, anticipating the kiss, when suddenly a throng of noisy actors come barreling down the aisles. You snap away from Astarion as the cacophony of their shrieks of laughter, calls across the audience to one another, and drunken banter fill the house.

One of them clambors onto the stage and shouts, “For God’s sake, a pot of small ale!” He’s dressed in rags and appears by far to be the drunkest of them all. Three servingmen swarm him with various shouts of, “Will’t please your honor?” He shoves them all away and proudly takes up space center stage.

“I am Christophero Sly! Call not me ‘Honor’ nor ‘Lordship,’” he bellows as the rest of the players make their way onto the stage.

Christopher Sly… you’re wracking your brain to remember which play he serves as a framing device for. Most productions cut this scene because it’s long and completely irrelevant. You just can’t for the life of you remember which play he appears in.

The scene continues with their drunken antics and slapstick comedy as the players address Sly as “my noble lord,” making him believe he’s a king that they’re about to perform for. Eventually they carry Sly out on a makeshift palanquin as the “play within the play” begins. Two handsome young men in preppy clothes enter, holding a book and wearing glasses that aren’t too dissimilar from Astarion’s round metal ones. The one without the glasses speaks first.

“Tranio, since for the great desire I had to see fair Padua…”

Tranio? Isn’t he one of the characters in Taming of the Shrew?

He knows you don’t like this play.

Well, if it’s all that’s playing at the Rosewood right now…

But if that’s the case why not just, like, see a movie?

You shift uncomfortably in your dress and cast your gaze towards Astarion. He smiles, taking your fingers and placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles before turning back to the stage. He keeps your hand in his, absentmindedly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. 

You can feel your heart pounding in your ears and you find yourself wondering what’s running through his head. Just when you think you have him figured out, he does something to surprise you. And honestly, not always in a good way.

Maybe it won’t be so bad. You know the creative team at the Rosewood wouldn’t pick this show if they weren’t going to try to do something with it. 

But even still… is this text even redeemable?

You sit through the entirety of the show cringing as the audience around you laughs at flagrant displays of domestic abuse. The actors, several of whom you’ve worked with before, are trying their hardest to make the lines playful, but some things just can’t be recovered. Between the forced starvation, physical intimidation, and gaslighting, you wonder why companies even bother performing this play anymore. No matter how witty the writing is, it’s just too out of date to be a good season choice.

When the time comes for Kate’s final monologue, you watch in pain as the actress tries to wink-wink-nudge-nudge her way through lines like “place your hands below your husband’s foot.” She’s young, and you wonder if this is one of her first professional gigs. You get a little sad knowing that she’s probably just desperate to do anything, even if it’s trash.

Maybe you’re being a little harsh. All of the individual elements of the show—the acting, set, costumes, direction, lighting—were quite good. You just can’t get over how irredeemable this text is. Worth teaching, yes, and maybe even taking Act II out of context just for the fun banter and clever wordplay. But professional theatre companies should really just retire this one.

In the Lyft back to your apartment, you decide to get Astarion’s take on the matter.

“Do you think it’s possible to redeem a text like Taming in a modern age?”

He pauses for a moment, continuing to look away from you and out the window.

“I do, yes,” he finally answers. “I think it takes a skilled hand, but it can be successful when done well.”

You sit on his response, chewing it over. You decide to take a different route.

“I guess a better question is do you think it’s worth trying to? Like, what are we getting out of it anymore?”

“Is entertainment not enough?” he says with a laugh. You wrinkle your nose at him.

“Sure, if you’re a basic ass bitch. But I want my art to mean something. And I can’t think of what this play can possibly mean if it’s not ‘shrill women are annoying and should learn their place.’” You cross and uncross your legs, trying to keep yourself decent.

“Last I checked, you enjoy being put in your place,” he says in a low hum and your pussy betrays you with a clench. 

“Shut up,” you grumble, and you’re grateful that the dark car hides your reddening cheeks. “It’s different.”

“Is it, though? Ultimately it is a text about two dysfunctional people finding comfort in one another.” His sincerity catches you off guard, and almost makes you angry that he’s been taken in by the propaganda.

“That’s only a valid interpretation if you ignore half of what happens in the play. They’re not equally dysfunctional, Kate literally gets beaten into submission and pretends to be happy about it. Petruchio is exactly the same from the start to the finish, he has no fucking character arc.” Your hands start to shake as you try to keep your cool. You’ve had this conversation far too many times with men who think they can interpret out the sexism by simply glossing over Kate’s abuse.

The Lyft stops in front of your building and you thank the driver as you get out. Astarion follows you, and you’re not even sure if you want him to accompany you upstairs. But you remain silent as you walk past Withers and into the elevator.

“You’re overreacting,” Astarion says once the elevator doors close. “People are drawn to this play for a reason. The text is excellent, and no one truly thinks of Petruchio as an abuser.”

“Are you joking?” Your voice gets shrill and the similarity to Kate isn’t lost on you. “The whole thing normalizes his abuse. The fact that people don’t think of him as an abuser is the problem.”

“It’s a slapstick comedy,” he snaps, his voice growing stern. “Are you going to tell me that we need to cancel the Three Stooges because it promotes violence?”

“Don’t be fucking condescending,” you spit. “It’s not the same and you know it.”

“How is it not the same? Suddenly because it’s a woman in the role it no longer counts? Are you implying that women should be barred from certain types of performance because of their gender?” He walks past you into your apartment and you throw your keys and bag on the counter, not even bothering to see where they land.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying, now you’re just twisting my words,” you grumble, more frustrated than ever by your inability to match his eloquence.

“So use your own words,” he sneers, whirling around to face you. “How is it not the same?”

“It’s because- well, I- It’s different, just- argh!” Your head is clouded by your attraction to him, which has annoyingly only grown over the past few minutes of shouting. You’re suddenly reminded of the smug arrogant bastard that you first met. He lets out a jeering laugh.

“See? You can’t even defend your own point.” 

His sardonic cruelty sets something off in you and you angrily grab the lapel of his green suit. Your intentions are a complete mystery even to you, because as soon as you’re within inches of one another, instincts take over. You crush his lips into yours and pull him backwards until you thump against the door behind you. He paws hungrily at the dress, sliding his hand under the slit and around to grab your bare ass. You gasp into his touch, feeling equally frustrated and aroused that he even controlled what you wore tonight.

Your fingers make their way into his hair and you pull hard, breaking the kiss and leaving his mouth open, panting. His eyes are sparkling with a fire that you haven’t seen yet and a low growl manifests in your throat. He smirks and buries his teeth into your shoulder, something he usually asks bespoke permission for. You cry out in response, twisting your hands tighter into his silvery locks.

He unlatches from your shoulder and pushes his knee past the front of your skirt and up onto your bare cunt. You grind wantonly against the velvet as he kisses you with bloody lips. He grabs hold of the delicate chains of the dress and yanks, detaching them from the collar and making the entire bodice crumple and pool around your waist. Your nipples immediately harden at the sudden exposure to cold air and he pinches one sharply between his fingers. Your hips roll into his leg as you groan, fully ruining his pants. He continues to bite around your neck and shoulders, placing little puncture wounds in his path, marking you as his.

You grab onto his tie and push him away so you can shimmy out of the rest of the dress. You’re now down to just the gold collar of the dress and your heels, a look you wish you could hate but don’t. You pull him across your living area and toward your bedroom, shoving him down onto the edge of the bed. 

“Thou hast hit it, come, sit on me,” he says, quoting Petruchio with a sinister grin. Kate’s retort falls out of your mouth reflexively.

“Asses are made to bear, and so are you,” you hiss as you straddle his hips, wrapping his tie around your hand until you’ve gripped it up to the knot. Your other hand violently unbuckles his belt, yanking it through the loops with a snap.

“Women are made to bear, and so are you,” he says with a caustic laugh, digging his nails into your ass cheeks. You tug sharply on his tie, bringing his lips close to yours.

“No such jade as you, if me you mean,” you snarl and silence him with an angry kiss. You don’t want to encourage his idiotic behavior, but you’d be lying to yourself if you said this wasn’t a fantasy you’ve had before. You fumble with the buttons of his suit jacket, trying to get him undressed as quickly as possible. You’re not sure if you feel more vulnerable or more powerful being undressed while he’s still fully clothed, but either way you want him naked, now. You get about three buttons into his shirt before you grow impatient, ripping it the rest of the way open and sending buttons flying. 

Good. Let him need to repair his clothes for once.

You push him flat onto his back and descend onto his chest, alternating kisses, licks, and bites. Your dull human teeth don’t have nearly the same effect as his fangs, but it just means you get to bite twice as hard in order to leave a mark. He writhes beneath your touch, and you feel a twisted satisfaction at the quiet little grunts and gasps you’re finally pulling from him. He’s rarely this vocal during sex, and it’s only serving to spur you on more.

His groans build until you capture his nipple in your teeth and bite down, causing him to shout and buck his hips up into you. In a flash he flips you around onto your back and he bears down on you, eyes dangerous. 

“Little love, do you think you’re in control?” he asks in a low growl, his hand gripped around your jaw. You sneer and slide your leg against the strained bulge in his pants. He hisses and your smile widens.

“Right now? Yes,” you coo, continuing to press your calf against his velvet-covered cock. You grab the tie still hanging around his neck and pull him close. 

“If you want it back, fucking take it.”

If I put my hands around your wrists, would you fight them?

He kisses you roughly, catching your bottom lip in his teeth biting hard enough to puncture the skin. He pulls back slightly, a drop of your blood running down his chin and a snide grin. He makes like he’s about to kiss you again but shoves your face away before your lips make contact.

This is the worst you’ve ever seen him—the most arrogant, the most condescending, borderline cruel even. And you have never been more turned on.

If I put my fingers in your mouth, would you bite them?

“Is that all you’ve got?” you taunt, licking the blood from your lips. “Go ahead, choke me, daddy.”

The feminist in you is horrified, but the little gremlin controlling your libido is having the time of its life. It squeals with delight when his hand closes around your throat, just barely constricting your breathing. 

“You insolent little brat,” he breathes into your ear, pulling up on your jaw. “I will absolutely ruin you.”

And there will be no tenderness, no tenderness.

“Do it, coward,” you spit, and he lets go just long enough to finish undressing from the waist down. He grabs your still heeled ankle and presses your leg up by your shoulder, stretching you wide enough to take him without any prep. You gasp as he fills you, the stinging pain outweighed by the gratification of finally feeling him inside you.

The only thing that I ask, love me mercilessly.

He sets a punishing rhythm, one knee on the bed and the other foot still firmly planted on the floor. He bottoms out with each long thrust and you grab hold of his hair to brace yourself. He winces with the pain but doesn’t slow down, and your moans grow high and loud as he continues to furiously pound into you. 

“Gods, fuck, Astarion,” you keen, your desire coiling in your belly and threatening to explode. “Keep going, daddy, fuck me please.” He grunts with the effort and your dirty talk seems to be having an effect as his pace falters. You jerk your hips up into him, chasing your orgasm, until finally it barrels through you like a runaway train. You pull on his hair as you come and that sets off his, his pulsing cock pressing against the clenching walls of your cunt. 

He stays deep inside you as the aftershocks reverberate through both of you, until the only sound remaining is your heavy panting. He drops his forehead to touch yours, a pleasantly tender moment after some of the roughest sex you can recall having. He starts to giggle and you follow suit, suddenly giddy. He pulls out of you with a squelch and walks to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up the mess you’ve left behind. He wipes you down gently, a surprising bit of aftercare you’re not accustomed to with him. He plants a tender kiss on your lips and you feel dizzy with affection for him.

You settle up against the headboard of your bed, his arm around you and both of you looking at your phones in a companionable silence. After a moment, he lets out a small chuckle. 

“What?” you ask, turning your head towards him quizzically.

“I’m just shocked that worked, is all,” he laughs, shaking his head. Your confusion grows and you furrow your brow.

“What worked?” you laugh with him, but something doesn’t feel right.

“The whole night, taking you to see Taming, getting into just enough of a fight to result in,” he vaguely waves his hand, gesturing to the edge of the bed, “all of that.”

“Wait, what? What do you mean?” You pull away from him and your stomach drops. Surely he can’t be suggesting what you think he’s suggesting.

“You get riled up so easily, I thought this might be fun.” He still doesn’t seem to have picked up on your heart pounding in your ears, which is frankly unusual for him.

“Are you saying… Wait, are you saying that you planned that fight? So, what, we’d have angry sex?”

“Of course, you don’t think I actually believe anything that I said, do you? Taming of the Shrew might be well-written, but it’s a rubbish play to produce.” He finally turns to you and sees that you’ve gone white as a sheet. “Oh, darling, don’t take it like that, you’re positively adorable when you’re angry, I couldn’t resist.” He tries putting his hand to your cheek but you flinch away like he’s burned you.

“Get out,” you say in a low voice, unable to even look at him.

“What?” He’s still laughing. He doesn’t get it. “My sweet, didn’t you-”

“GET. OUT.” Your voice has a venom in it that even shocks you. He stares at you in horror until you shoot him an icy glare. “Now.”

Without a word he stands and quickly puts his clothes back on. You stay in your bed, naked and curled under a sheet, until you hear the front door of your apartment slam. With shaking hands, you call Shadowheart.

“Moonmaiden’s delight, did you enjoy yourself? It certainly sounded like you did.” The sound of Shadowheart’s bubbly laugh usually makes you smile, but right now it seeps into your skin like poison.

“Shade, please come over,” you whimper, and the second the words leave your mouth, the tears begin to fall. You don’t hear her hang up, but you do hear a muffled, “I’m going to fucking kill him!” through the wall. You pull your knees further into your chest and sob.

[cenorii]

Reasons

Hi, today let's discuss some interesting and short topics related to Chris and Wesker. Their relationship and a bit of biology.

Strange attitude towards Chris

We know that Chris has been diligently strengthening his body since the events of Code Veronica, in order to have something to counter Wesker. But he's still human, so no matter how much he tries to increase his physical strength, he can't stand up to Wesker if he's serious about killing him, it's logically useless. Of course, he wasn't the only reason for Chris's increased body mass, an additional motivation was the moment in Code Veronica when he didn't have the strength to kick down the door to save Claire.

Against Wesker any strength is useless (except for Alexia), just think of the final battle in the Lost in Nightmares DLC. No amount of physical strength and training helped Chris even scratch his opponent, let alone any attempt to fight back. The difference between the two is unrealistically huge, which raises the logical question... why is Chris still alive?

What's his attitude towards Chris anyway? Judging from their dialog in re1r, Wesker respects Chris's talents and has his hopes set on him, proud that he came out from under his captain's wing. It's the reason he didn't shoot Chris, wanting to show his best man his best creation (he also showed Jill Tyrant, but from the prism of their situation it looks more like bragging than a meeting of his two best creations). In Code Veronica they met again, and despite Wesker's open hatred for his former subordinate, he chose to demonstrate his power in front of him rather than kill Chris.

What emotions does a person feel when he wants to brag to someone he respects, but at the same time hates? I think Wesker has more respect for Chris than hate. He also wants to show him that he is now "better than he knew before" by trying to impress Chris a second time. He doesn't want to kill him because he's cocky and knows for a fact that the average person won't stop him.

The next encounter takes place in the Lost in Nightmares DLC, where Wesker is angry about information that offended his pride and crossed out everything he thought about himself. This time, when attacking Chris, he's driven by nothing but rage, so he doesn't think much about who's in front of him. Because of this, he might be contemplating breaking with his past, including Chris, so he's actually going to kill him. But he is interrupted, time passes and his emotions cool down, thanks to which the next time he meets Chris in re5 Wesker again doesn't plan to kill him. Chris is now his past, which he has accepted.

Instead of finishing what he planned and cutting off everything that reminds him of his fake past, Wesker decides to embrace the truth, including saving Jill's life and using her in his plans. He must have thought about Chris a lot and talked about him a lot, which you can tell from Excella, who said with disdain: "Chris Redfield" and Wesker at that moment turned away and smiled so that she could not see. He is either amused btw Excella reacts to Chris, or he is really secretly happy to show him his creation again but doesn't want to show his joy to Excella, whereupon he switches back to a serious tone of voice, provoking the woman to leave the room.

Their encounters in re5 don't look like a normal battle, because Wesker is able to kill both of his opponents (Sheva and Chris) completely unhindered just like he killed Spencer's guards in the mansion from the Lost in Nightmares DLC. But he doesn't because Chris has now found a new value to him. Redfield is an element of his past and an element of his present, integrating his personal growth processes and showing up at significant moments in his life. Therefore, as long as Wesker is confident that he will show Chris Uroboros, he will not seriously harm him. Only when his confidence crumbled did he become adamant about getting rid of the interfering element that now not only ruins his plans, but ruins his dreams, opposes his ideals, and negates what Wesker believes in. Chris is now not an accepted and valued past, but a judgmental eye looking straight into Wesker's soul. Someone who is the complete opposite of him. And since Wesker still respects Chris, because he only shows strength to those who are worthy (artbook quote), his opinion is valuable. But what if Chris's opinion differs from his and it can't be changed? The only thing left to do is to beat those views out of him.

Chris is a very important person to Wesker, despite the feelings of hatred he displays, which may also be the result of Wesker being confused about how long he let Chris live. That said, he is utterly helpless to kill this fragile man. He's too rare, valuable, special, the only one. And that brings out the tangled emotions in him. The fact that Chris is alive is absolutely no credit to Chris himself.

Height difference

When Wesker caused himself to overdose with Uroboros, his body increased in size due to the excess cellular material in his body. He is now about 230 cm. I'm sure the process is reversible, and when the virus in his body stabilizes from the overdose by properly fusing with his body, Wesker will return to his previous size. But what's funny is the very fact that because his body cells are unusual and able to regenerate, Wesker is able to react to the overdose with similar side effects. But if the effects were irreversible? That's interesting to think about.

Lack of a hand

If you follow the animations of Wesker's right hand on the volcano closely, you will notice that it moves as one continuous tentacle without bones. While the left one seems more static, and you can also see the arm model through the tentacles on the left arm. I examined its model and found out that the left hand does indeed have a full hand, even fingers, but the right hand is less fortunate - it's missing. In its place are tentacle bones. I realize this was done for ease of animation, but let's imagine for a second that the missing arm is an irreversible side effect, and now Wesker's arm will never come back. The tentacles will retract inside his body, but the arm will be missing and never regenerate. Oldsker without his right arm? Interesting.

[secriden]

well that was lovely. i love that we got to see them so long after the finale, after they've mellowed and settled into their relationship and their dynamic.

tongrak has come so, so far. he could barely confess his love to mahasamut in ep 10, and now we see him completely unashamed about being head over heels for mahasamut. there wasn't a single instance of denial or embarrassment about his love and desire for and eagerness to be with mahasamut - even when vie straight up accused him of having a kink for angry!mahasamut, his response isn't denial but "are you psychic". oh, how safe he must feel in this relationship to be able to fly so freely with this after everything we saw in the series, because to show this kind of devotion must feel so vulnerable.

and i love that mahasamut truly gets to be true to himself. i love that he still gets to do what he cares about; gets to live on the island, continue working, presumably take care of all the people on the island he protects and provides for. i also really love that tongrak never at any point dismisses the importance of mahasamut's work (which would be so easy to do by arguing that tongrak's rich enough that mahasamut probs doesn't actually need to work). but he knows that mahasamut loves what he does, and loves the island and the people so he's never dismissive of it.

and its so beautiful how they accomodate each other into their lives. mahasamut just spoils him so much and is so enamoured by everything tongrak does but there's subtle, more hidden things too, like how he knows tongrak likes things neat and tidy so he makes sure their home is neat before he comes back; how he knows tongrak was secretly enjoying his time with vimook even though he also wanted to rush back to mahasamut. he plans to take tongrak out to the sea because he notices a pattern of tongrak only settling after he's been to the sea even before he learns why tongrak loves the sea. and tongrak wanting to run back to mahasamut's side finishing his work early so he could but not pushing for mahasamut to come back with him, learning to cook for mahasamut, looking at furniture but refusing to buy it until he discusses it with mahasamut even though it's his money. like this is such a stable, loving, considerate relationship. they think of the other person and genuinely want what's best for the other even if it's not necessarily their preference.

i also love that as much as mahasamut's very 'dom' coded to tongrak's 'sub', there's glimpses of their true ages in moments like when mahasamut asks tongrak to "just see me off like this from time to time" and tongrak's face just softens into this overwhelming fondness and he kisses mahasamut on the forehead. mahasamut asks for so, so little but somehow tongrak's reaction shows us that he holds those instances with the reverence and adoration they deserve.

their love is so deep and sweet and tender and lovely and warm and i'm so grateful we got this.

fortpeat's performances were breathtaking. i'm desperate for a gif of mahasamut looking at tongrak as he turns away with the sparkler to kick at the water because fort captured 'besotted' beautifully in that 1 second (screenshots don't quite capture it somehow). it really felt like they immersed themselves fully into the roles, like there wasn't even really any awkward moments or interactions that made me second guess that they were 2 people very much in love and very, very sure of the other's love for them.

[kinardsevan]

tidbit tuesday

my beloved @perfectlysunny02 tagged me this week, and I know, ITS AMAZING, but I'm actually getting writing done this week (we won't discuss the painting that isn't getting done b/c the prof sucks). Anyhoo, this is tentatively titled there's no life after you.

“Firefighter down about thirty feet on the cliffside,” Hen finally says. Her voice is so calm, that it’s almost eerie. Tommy would worry, but he knows that Evan was supposed to be paired up with her, so he’s likely just busy caring for one of the kids. “Unresponsive. Can’t reach him.”  He forces himself to take a breath and remind himself that whichever his friends has fallen, they’re going to be okay. They can get Eddie or Howie up off the cliff with minimal trouble, and they’ll get them to the hospital. Everything will be fine, they just need to do one step at a time.  “So medivac,” Lucy responds back. She glances at the various controls on the helicopter dash and then down at her watch before looking over at Tommy briefly. “We’re about twelve minutes out from a hospital in any direction.” She pauses for a moment, turning in her seat once again. “Firefighter Wilson, can you tell if there’s blood loss?”  “Affirmative on blood loss,” she replies. “He’s going to need a full workup inside the chopper.”  That statement causes a pang in Tommy’s chest, but he reminds himself that they’re more than capable of getting this all done properly and safely. His friends will be fine.  “About five minutes out,” he calls out over the line.  “Try to make it three,” Hen replies. The line goes quiet again, and for the next two minutes, Tommy tries to make good on her request, getting closer to the mountain. As they get nearer, he’s better able to make out where the vehicles are parked, lights still flashing on the engines as they start to descend in height. And then, a line clicks over, like someone pressing on their radio without intending to.  “Can’t see much, but it’s not looking good.” Eddie’s voice carries over the line. Tommy gulps, realizing it must be Howie that’s injured. He can only imagine now Evan is taking it, let alone how they’re going to break the news to Maddie. Still, he tries to remain focused on the task at hand, lowering them closer to the cliffside. They’re closing in enough now that he can make out a body and the darkened area where blood is pooling as he forces himself to inhale and exhale deep breaths.  “Think we can land,” Lucy asks, looking in his direction.  Tommy’s brow pinches as he continues to get them lower. “It’s gonna be tight, but I see a spot.” He clicks over on his radio. “Captain Wilson are you available? I’m a man down; left Rodriguez at First Presbyterian with our last transport.”  “I’m on my way down,” she replies, and there’s a shakiness to her tone.  It’s a process, getting them down safely. He has to put them down roughly a quarter mile up from where Howie is at so they can land safely, and as he does, Lucy is already jumping out of the back of the chopper.  “Three minutes,” she tells him, like the unit of time is suddenly a mantra for them. “Think you can get set up by then?”  Tommy glances around the back of the chopper and nods. He really hasn’t done anything medic-related since his army days, but he knows enough about the setup of their medivac chopper to know where to find supplies.  “Go,” he yells at her over the whirring of the blades. “Hurry!”  She’s gone before the word is halfway out of his mouth, and then he’s shuffling around in the back of the cabin, pulling supplies as quickly as he can. As he works, Lucy starts calling out over the radio information for the hospital. Her voice is tight, and something about it makes Tommy’s breathing grow shallow, even if he’s not entirely processing her words.  “Thirty-three year old male took a thirty foot fall. Looking at multiple internal injuries, compound fracture to the left femur and ankle, attempting to stabilize. Helmet appears to have taken impact, so not sure of cranial effects yet, if any. Deep cut to the right tricep, and what looks like an open fracture to the pelvis. Sixty seconds out from the chopper, at least thirteen from UCLA.” 

[sgiandubh]

This was a work Outlander event and posts. No way to determine how they feel about each other from today's Social media promotion. 12 minutes apart just shows it was a coordinated attack for audience involvement. When you have something about their connection unrelated to Starz, Outlander, then it will be interesting. But so far after 10 years, everything between these 2 still is work related. Nothing new. Even Sam coordinated his whisky event over the weekend to coincide with OL 'birthday'. It's all promotion. Do you have anything not related to Outlander showing a relationship?

Dear Work Event Anon,

I could really set my watch by you guys popping in here each and every time a breath of fresh air floats over this fandom. Since you seem to have a problem with people being happy about something, I figured out you'd actually be better hearing what I have to tell you:

I am not sure I am interested in what you have to say, Anon. You certainly chose to step in here completely uninvited, unwanted and at your own risk. At this point in time, I am actively hesitating about you being bored, daft, cruel or simply desperate. A bit of each, to be honest and the mix might vary.

Two social media posts might not be able to determine how These Two feel about each other, Anon. But, I wasn't exactly discussing that. I was discussing their entourage reactions, in my first post, something you probably understood very well, since I do not think you are visually impaired. I was also pointing out the fact S shared C's post in record time, something that did not happen in a good while. That is all.

Sam coordinating 'his whisky event over the weekend to coincide with OL's anniversary' (not birthday, punk - that is for people only!)? You must be kidding, pumpkin. Hasn't your Marketing Expert Supremo explained to you yet that The Kimpton Hotel & Restaurant Group, LLC is, in fact an international boutique hotel brand, based in San Francisco and owned by the InterContinental Hotels Group? Hasn't she explained to you that, as all the other international hotel brands, their marketing strategy is also focused on event management and planning, with a separate dedicated website to boot?

Hasn't she told you there is actually a dedicated event management and planning webpage on Kimpton Charlotte Square's website?

It features everything you'd need to properly organize any type of event. As is the case for a bajillion other luxury hotels all around the world:

Same wallpaper, same picture frames. Matchy-matchy, as Ye Olde Troll would say. Heh. And this is how we know the pop-up shop was organized in the hotel (connecting) private Dining and Drawing Rooms:

You also seem to not be aware that such events are never planned last minute. He did not 'coordinate' anything, punk. The opportunity was there and he took it. As simple as that.

If you think you do God's work by trying your very own version of the Chinese water torture, i.e. asking the same damn questions over and over again, well...You have no idea how wrong and clueless you are, Anon. What makes you think people will actually engage with a broken record?

And last but not least, I don't give a damn if you find my page uninteresting. Now be a doll, Anon - scroll on and fuck off.

[ranbowkng]

His Kingdom, His Power, My Glory

Gary thinks it'll be a good idea to infiltrate the church. A tired priest, with an adorable face, reminds him why that's a bad idea.

Gary smirked as he pulled the hood of his jacket tighter. This plan was genius. Why keep sending cultists to sneak into the church in the dead of night to make a mess of things when he could just spark turmoil in the middle of the day. The best part, they wouldn't kick him out, and they wouldn't know he was doing it. Perfect.

"Morning Father," he nodded, walking right past the priest standing at the door, greeting church-goers.

"Good morning! I- oh hold on!" The priest grabbed Gary by the sleeve, pulling him back slightly, "You're new here aren't you?"

"Ah, was it that obvious?" Gary smiled, fearing that his genius may have betrayed him already.

"Just a bit," The priest chuckled. Gary got a good look at him, he had dark brown hair, and royal blue eyes that seemed to glow. Gary could have gotten lost in that expression for hours, but he had a mission to attend to, he had far more important manners than pretty boys to worry about, "We actually have a rule, no hats or hoods in the congregation."

"Oh? My apologies," Gary said, pulling his hood down, "My old church was a bit less strict."

"No sunglasses either unfortunately," the priest smiled, but his grip on Gary's sleeve tightened.

"Afraid I can't do that," Gary said, "Got a bad eye disease. Don't wanna scare the kids away."

"Hmm," the priest's look was brimming with disappointment, but he resigned, "Alright then, we will keep you in our prayers, but please consider how you're affecting other members of the church."

"Yes, sorry Father," Gary chuckled, wanting to sigh in relief. He would not have been able to explain the peculiar case of his eyes to the priest.

Once he took a seat, he grinned ear to ear. What a fool the priest must have been to believe such a stupid lie. Regardless, the sermon was starting soon. From here Gary would be able to learn just what happens at a church service, and just how he can tear it apart.

As it turns out, there was too much sitting and standing. Too much listening and not nearly enough talking. Too much and not enough of everything, it was mind numbingly dull. Not even the Order would stoop so low as to make it's devoted followers sit for an hour doing nothing with no freedom to move.

But Gary-begrudgingly-endured it. He was certain that eventually something would happen that would be worth it. Then again, if he had to endure one more of those godforsaken psalms! They weren't quite songs, because a song required being good.

Eventually he found something, a payoff. The priest who had greeted him at the door had finished reading the gospel, and he spoke directly to the audience.

"God loves us all," he began, speaking slowly. You could hear the sound of his careful thought between each word he spoke, "The other day a woman had come to me asking how I knew."

This was perfect! If he wasn't reading off of the text then that only meant one thing, an open discussion. And when people spoke without reading off of their source, they were prone to making mistakes. And one slip up would be enough to pick him apart piece by piece.

"So I was open with her," he said, "I have suffered loss, divorce, and failures over and over again."

"Sounds like God hates you!" Gary shouted. As soon as he spoke everyone turned to him. A smirk was plastered on his face. He'd win over the crowd in twelve seconds flat.

The priest just gave him a tired glare before he continued speaking, "Despite my grievances, I still have the privilege of waking up every day. I have a new chance to prove myself every day. And the Lord tells me that I am his child and he will continue walking with me."

"I thought Jesus was the only son of God!" Gary yelled. He did his homework. Well, he read just enough to know where the hypocrisies stood out.

"We are all children of God under Abraham," the priest spoke through grit teeth, "We will be going over that next week."

"Sounds like God needs to close his legs!" Gary's smirk was growing into a grin.

"Alright," the priest took a deep breath, "Let's start over, since you clearly seem confused. I was trying to explain to a woman that God loves her and is with her through her every struggle. And to do so, I used my own life as an example."

"How did you manage to prove it?" Gary said, "Hey! Father! How do you know it's actually God talking!? Are you-"

"Some of us clearly need to start working on our relationship with the Lord!" The priest said, his chest rising and falling quickly as he tried to calm himself, "Some far, far more than others, but regardless. God is patient and will wait for us until the end of time."

"If God's so patient why are you getting so upset?" Gary argued.

"God is a patient man, I am not," John said calmly, "And that's okay! Because God gives us strength. Strength to overcome any challenge like frustration, or an inability to respect your church leaders."

"I fail to see how-"

"God gives us strength!" The priest spoke over him, "I believe we all have it in us to become better people through the Lord. Amen!"

Gary wanted to speak up, but the congregation seems to have accepted it was time to shut up. Unbelievable. How does a man who looks so pathetic manage to control the situation so well? Oh well, at least he can still figure out the weak points in the sermon simply by listening.

Meanwhile, said priest was glaring at him. A far older priest had taken over, but he still was looking straight through Gary with furrowed brows. Gary stared back, not that the priest could see past his sunglasses.

When the sermon was over, Gary was about ready to collapse. How does an hour of doing absolutely nothing become so exhausting? He would never blame his acolytes for their boredom during a meeting ever again.

He stood, prepared to leave, only to be stopped.

"Excuse me sir," it was the priest. He had gripped Gary by the sleeve, a soft smile on his face, "May I speak with you for a minute?"

Gary tried not to let his confident smirk falter, "Of course! What can I do for you?"

The priest chuckled slightly, "Oh no, I meant at the front. I have a couple things I'd like to discuss with you."

"Ah," Gary said. Had he been anywhere else, there was no doubt in his mind he'd be able to strike down the priest with a single glance, but this was a church. He was already weakened here, but this is where the priest would thrive. And yet, he was cocky, "Well, I don't see why not."

"Good," the priest said, "Follow me."

The priest waited for the entire congregation to leave. He stared up at the stained glass window as he waited to be alone with Gary. Gary kept a hand in his pocket, rubbing over his claw-like nails.

"I can explain," Gary said, "It's actually my first time in a catholic church, I didn't know the proper proceedings for the gospel."

"No no, I have to thank you," John said, "When one questions the bible, it means they simply wish to apply it to their life. I'm glad you gave me the opportunity to expand on what I had to say."

"Wait, really?" Gary said.

"Of course," the priest said, his nails digging into his palms, "Although, I would like to make a request." He turned towards Gary.

"Oh?" Gary raised an eyebrow, "What can I do for you?"

"Take off your sunglasses," John said, "I'd like to look you in the eyes when we speak."

"But my eyes-"

"I am not a child," the priest said calmly, "I will not panic at the sight."

"But-"

"Is that a no?" The priest asked. Gary felt that he didn't have a choice.

"Yes, of course," Gary said, reaching for his glasses, slowly taking them off. He and the priest's eyes never stopped looking on to each other.

"Mmm," the priest looked at his eyes, black with glowing red irises, "You're a demon."

"Nonsense!" I'm a normal human being just like you!" Gary argued.

"I'm no fool," the priest said, "I knew you were a demon from the moment I saw your face. Your eyes are a simple confirmation."

"I apologize," Gary said, "I simply needed information about the church."

"I'm afraid that this isn't your territory," the priest said, "Now I have to request you leave before I exorcise you."

Gary chuckled, despite the priest's clear advantage, "I'm afraid I won't be doing that." He used a clawed finger to tuck a piece of the priest's hair behind his ear, "For you see, I have a new interest to pursue, and I have no reason to leave just yet."

"Then allow me to give you one," the priest said. Before Gary could even process what was being said to him, the priest gripped him by the wrists and pushed him backwards, slamming his back against the altar, "Leave this church. If you come back I will give you a fate far worse than an exorcism."

"Heh, I suppose you reciprocate my interests," Gary smirked, only for the priest to increase the pressure he was using to hold him down.

The priest glared at him before speaking again, "You will not come back, but I will keep my eye on you. When I find your lair then we can...discuss things as adults. But for now, I expect you out of my sight, understood?"

Gary's breath hitched slightly. It's been so long since someone's given him a command without solicitation, "Yes sir~"

"Ah-ah," the priest said, "Use my proper title."

Gary rolled his eyes before smirking, aiming to piss the priest off, "Sure thing, daddy."

The priest's eyes remained unamused. He slid his right hand away from Gary's wrist and down to his throat, "I said..." his grip tightened. Not enough to constrict, but enough to cause pressure, "My proper title."

Gary did not want to admit out loud the things that those words did to him, "Of course...Father."

"Good," The priest's voice was quiet, mumbled only so he could hear. God he'd kill to have that done to him with a mattress beneath them, "Now go on, get out and don't show your face. I expect to be meeting with you very shortly."

"Of course Father," Gary said, turning to leave before the priest could get any ideas about exorcising him.

After all this, perhaps information wasn't the only thing he could get out of the church. This would be far less boring as well.

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

I remember your submission about H and national security implications. So, with the new Boris revelation- that he had a talk about Harry just before megxit to convince him to stay- what do you think about this from a national security angle?

To me, it seems, that the uk govt also realised what the possible implications could be if Harry's loyalties landed on the wrong side. Do you think that is why, as a last resort, the then PM was recruited to have an informal chat with him? Obviusly harry is so thick and daft, that he would take any allegations of possible defection very poorly. But, surely that must have been a point of discussion at the palace as well as 10 downing.

It seems that everyone but Harry, took his leaving very seriously. And he didn't realise the repercussions until just recently. What else do you will could think might come out about megxit?

So first, the palace has announced that they never asked Boris to speak to Harry. I think what probably happened is one of the following two scenarios:

Scenario A: The Queen discussed Megxit with him in one of their weekly audiences and he thinks she’s asking him to problem solve this, so Boris steps in.

Scenario B: It was Charles/Clarence House that asked Boris to step in and not the palace, but Boris doesn’t know the difference. (Which is very plausible considering that he confirmed in his memoir he never read his briefing papers and often learned things from The Queen herself.)

Second, there’s no national security angle to this. It was made very clear that take away their demands in the Megxit Manifesto - which the BRF did at the Sandringham Summit - the Sussexes didn’t actually have a plan for what they were going to do. Where would they live? Were they going to lease/rent or buy? What would they do about transportation? How would they pay for their expenses? For childcare? For security? What would they do for work? Would they immigrate or just live there? What kind of visas did Harry need? Could they keep their diplomatic passports or did they need to get regular ones? Etc, etc. That’s probably how they got the 1-year trial period; there was no plan and the little plan there was wasn’t realistic.

The BRF was doing everything they could to make the Sussexes wake up to the reality that the grass wasn’t greener on the other side and that Harry, especially, was too dependent on the machinations of the monarch - living expenses paid for, generational wealth, do-nothing career, household staff, drivers - to be able to manage it exclusively and entirely alone without support. Since the Sussexes weren’t listening to the BRF, someone thought an “outsider” might be able to make them listen and Boris (who’s very much equally privileged and tone-deaf on similar issues) was chosen. Or self-appointed.

I think had the BRF called the Spencers in to help, they might’ve had a chance but it was still too late because once Meghan got Archie out of the country, she was gone and if she was gone, so was Harry. The opportune time to get the Spencers involved would’ve been Summer 2019 or right after Africa. But even then, I’m not sure that the Spencers would’ve been able to do anything; at that time, Harry wasn’t speaking to the Earl (he either no-showed or was NFI to Archie’s christening) and he was probably the only one that could’ve made the Sussexes happy, by allowing them to stay in Diana’s home. I know, Althorp wasn’t really her home but the association of Diana to the estate is really strong and probably would’ve mollified the Sussexes long enough for things to cool down but it doesn’t address the issue that Meghan hates the UK and desperately wants the golden glorious glamor of Hollywood.

Harry does seem to have better relationships with Diana’s sisters but I’m not sure they could’ve convinced the Sussexes to change their mind without being able to give them Diana in the way that only Earl Spencer could, as he is the current occupant for Althorp.

But for all I know, maybe they did call the Spencers for help and it just didn’t work. But I don’t think they did, because it would’ve leaked out. Maybe they tried to and Meghan blocked it because she knew once Diana was invoked, it was game over and she’d be stuck. Or maybe she had already invoked Diana to Harry and that’s how she convinced him to do this in the first place and now Diana’s sisters coming in with their version of Diana would undo her hard work.

Anyway. Not really a national security analysis. Personally, I don’t like doing hindsight analysis - where you take everything you know now and apply it to a situation years ago in the last - because then you’re making assumptions and assumptions end up turning opinion into fact. That’s not objective.

I prefer to focus hindsight analysis on “what we knew then” with “what we know now about what we knew then.” Specific to the January 2020 bro-chat, there isn’t much context for that. The only thing that changes is how much anger Harry had at the time, with revelations in all the royal books, towards not being treated exactly the same as William by everyone - his wife, the public, the family, the monarchy, etc.

I can’t comment on the national security aspects of why the PM may or may not have decided to speak with Harry about Megxit because at the time in January 2020, there weren’t concerns about defection or bought loyalty. Not publicly, at least. At the time, the public concerns were about Harry’s relationship with the press, and with that we knew that Harry was friendly with certain members of the press and liked speaking to them because they made him feel important. Remember, the interview with the Russian pranksters where the general public began to realize “wait a minute…” wasn’t until March 2020.

I don’t know that I have anymore predictions for Megxit. Obviously the biggest issue is whether Archie is “of the body” as there’s been a lot of speculation Megxit happened (partially) to obscure that. I’m not sure we’ll ever get the answer to that.

Some other guesses:

Exactly when, where, and with whom all the contract negotiations for their content deals (Quibi, Netflix, Spotify, The Bench, Penguin Random House, and Oprah) began. There’s a lot of very plausible speculation that these talks (and Netflix filming) began way before 2020.

The press lawsuits - who, what, where, when, and how. I want to know everything - who finally convinced Harry to sue? What role did Elton really have in it? Who’s bankrolling the lawsuits? Did Harry seek lawyers out or did lawyers seek Harry out? How much influence did Meghan have on the lawsuits? Were the lawsuits preemptive to get Fleet Street to stop investigating or talking about the inconsistencies in Archie’s birth?

The exact details and timing of how Megxit went down. Who stayed with Archie, and where, while the Sussexes were in the UK each time? Who financed their expenses? When did Trudeau learn that he was footing their entire bill and how long before he booted the Sussexes - was it immediate or was it only when the public began complaining? When did Meghan start complaining about Canada and began demanding they move to the US? When did Oprah and Tyler Perry come into the picture? How long did they really plan to stay in Canada before moving to the US? Did they take advantage of the Covid panic to expedite their US move or were they already in the US before the revenge tour? What did/does Dan Wootton know that he didn’t publish? What did/does Scobie know about Megxit? Was the BRF aware that the goal was always to move to the US? Did the BRF really believe it was the media that made the Sussexes quit? Did the Sussexes really quit monarchy or did The Queen actually fire them as speculated

[turtletaubwrites]

My Favorite Kinds of Nights ~ Part 2

Thank you to the anon for this request! Look here for Part 1!

Pairing: Luffy x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3625

We've All Got Needs Masterlist

Ao3 Link

Summary: After an unexpected night with your captain, it's time for you to tell your partners who you spent your night with. How will your lovers react, and how will your captain treat you the morning after?

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ Only, MDNI, Fem!Reader, Reader Insert, Smut, Mild Angst, Polyamory, One Night Stands, Relationship Discussions, Insecurity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Penis in Vagina Sex, Hair Pulling, Condoms, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Biting, Dry Humping, Established Relationships, Fluff, Inappropriate Use of Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit Powers, Luffy needs to learn boundaries, Luffy is a little shit

A/N: I hope you enjoy the conclusion to this Luffy one night stand request! Again, this would occur over 2 years after the current timeline, and may not fit into the story later. We've All Got Needs is ongoing, and I've got lots of plans! I'm having a great time with these requests, and hope to do more soon! 😁

“Has anyone seen Luffy?”

You’d just sat down, a little late to breakfast after grabbing a quick shower, and you could feel your skin flush red at Nami’s question.

Zoro still looked a bit wrecked, bandaged up from the fight, but finally awake. He pulled you in close, and you sighed against him. All while you pondered how to tell your partners that your one night stand last night had been with the captain. 

“He must have been more tired than he let on for him to miss breakfast,” Robin contemplated, looking as fresh and lovely as always. 

“That’s alright, more for us!”

Usopp reached for more waffles, until Sanji tutted at him.

“Usopp, I will gladly throw you under the bus if Luffy wakes up to no breakfast.”

His eyes went wide as he dropped the waffles, and you giggled along with Nami. 

“Anyone check on Luffy? He’s snoring so loud I thought there was something wrong with the Sunny,” Franky questioned as he sauntered in, chugging cola while he coiffed his hair. 

“Let’s let him rest, I'm sure he’ll be running in here to inhale everything in the fridge when he’s feeling better,” Sanji declared as he ran his fingers along your shoulder while he poured your coffee. 

The four of you settled down when the rest of the crew left, Sanji finally starting on his own breakfast. 

For so long there’d been nothing to discuss at these check ins. They were just a lovely, quiet time to connect with each other. Today was different. 

“I didn't see you at the party after dinner, Y/N. Did you find someone to enjoy the evening with?”

Robin’s eyes sparkled as she asked, always so eager to know about everyone’s experiences, if they felt like sharing. 

“I did, actually.”

You’d been together long enough, been through so much with each other, that Zoro didn’t even tense around you like he used to. It made you feel so safe, knowing that he trusts you.

But now your throat was tight with anxiety at what he might feel today. 

“So, do we get to hear about this lucky lover?” 

“It was Luffy.”

Sanji choked on his eggs, coughing and sputtering while Robin handed him his water. Her face showed more shock than you’d seen for a long time, her brows lifted, lips parted. 

Zoro did tense then, and you could see his brows tensing. 

“Sorry, my love. Did you say Luffy,” Sanji asked when he was able to breathe again. 

“Mmhm,” you said, nodding. You felt like you were floating a little outside of your body, not quite here.

“Wow, uh, I didn’t think that Luffy…”

Robin patted Sanji’s hand as she cut in.

“Will you be seeing each other again?”

“I think it was just for one night. He just said he wanted to make me feel good.”

“I don’t want to hear about it,” Sanji said as he shook his head back and forth, wide eyed.

You choked on a laugh as Robin mouthed ‘I do.’

“I know we’ve been okay with one night stands without checking in first. Last night happened so fast, and I’m sorry. I feel like I should have checked in before, I just never expected…”

Zoro had pulled his arm away from around your shoulder, leaning his elbows on the table while he looked down at his hands. 

“Z-Zoro?”

“It’s fine, Y/N. It’s okay.”

His gruff voice was hard to read, but fear and shame bubbled in your stomach.

“Do you want-”

“I’m fine. Just need a minute.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you watched Zoro stand and walk out of the room, still limping slightly from his injuries. You choked out a small sob as your hand reached to your chest.

Robin sent hands around you, rubbing your back and your hair while small, scared tears started to fall.

Sanji reached across the table and you took his offered hand. You were so grateful to have them both, their soft eyes holding you in comfort, while your body filled with fear and guilt.

“Y/N, you didn’t do anything wrong. We have all taken advantage of the one night stand agreement.”

“But this is Luffy,” you whispered, voice hoarse already.

Sanji shook his head slightly, still looked dazed at that news, while Robin dipped her head toward you.

“It was within our agreement. Now Zoro needs some time, and you both can talk about it. It’ll be okay.”

Your lips quivered at her words, closing your eyes for a long moment. 

“How do you guys feel about it?”

You and Robin both looked at Sanji with his mouth opening and closing a few times. He cleared his throat, voice a bit higher than normal. 

“I see no problem at all with you enjoying his, uh, company. I’m just shocked that- I just didn’t expect…”

Neither did I,” you breathed out, shaking your head.

“I think it’s just lovely,” Robin said with a smirk.

“Of course you do.”

You let out a soft laugh while her teasing smile brought you back to the moment. 

“I’m going to go look for him.”

“He might need some more time, sweetheart. There’s not enough brains in that moss head for him to sort things out so quickly.”

You gave Sanji’s shoulder a light slap as you passed him.

“I know. I just want him to know I’m here for him.”

~

You found Zoro leaning over the railing, looking out over the calm sea. 

“Hi.”

He glanced at you, and you were so grateful to see no anger in his eyes. He just looked away, hands gripping the railing. 

“I just want to tell you I’m here if you want to talk. Or just sit together. But I’ll give you space if you want me too. Whatever you need.”

Zoro took a deep breath, exhaling while he closed his eyes. He turned to you, and you were frozen, desperately waiting to know if he was okay. 

“I’m not mad, Needy. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You bit your lip to keep it from shaking. 

“It’s just… he’s my capt-”

Zoro reached for you as you yelped, but he was too late. An arm had stretched out and curled your waist, until you were flinging backwards, hearing your captain shouting your name. 

He pulled you into the hallway, then carried you into the galley.

“Good morning, Y/N! How are you feeling?”

You were too breathless to reply, grabbing onto the table for support as he set you down. Luffy started eating the rest of the crew's breakfast, grinning at you through mouthfuls of food. 

Sanji and Robin were at the counter, mouths wide as they stared. 

“Luffy-” 

“I feel so good this morning!”

Still catching your breath, you couldn’t help but laugh at his manic voice, his eyes filled with that spark that sets him apart.

“Luffy, you can’t just grab a lady like tha-”

You held your hand out toward Sanji, not wanting him to speak for you. You needed Luffy to listen to you. Luckily Robin understood, and led a red faced Sanji out of the kitchen. 

Luffy swallowed his bite long enough to lean toward you conspiratorially, speaking in a stage whisper.

“Can we play again today?”

Shivers ran up your skin at his heated look, still so filled with his manic energy. Clearing your throat, you managed to get some words out. 

Lu-Luffy, it was a wonderful night. But nothing more can happen until everyone else feels okay with it.”

His brows tensed in confusion, his emotions often so easy to read.

“But you’re always so happy all together. Won’t you be more happy? We can keep feeling good.”

He’d stopped eating, even using the tablecloth to wipe his face while he stared at you.

“Is that what you want Luffy? And we are all happy because we check in, and listen to each other about what we need and want.”

“I want to feel good. I want you to feel good. I want to taste you, and eat you, and touch you.”

His hand stretched out to touch your jaw, his thumb rubbing lightly at the corner of your lips.

Shivering, you moved his hand away.

“That sounds wonderful, Luffy. But I know you want your crew to be happy right. I have to make sure they're okay before we do anything else.”

“I can check!”

“Wha- no, Luffy!”

You were in the air again, his arms holding you as he charged out onto the deck again. Your face was flushed red as you saw Zoro turn toward his captain’s voice, his jaw clenching. 

“Zoro, Zoro - can I help you make Y/N feel good?”

“Luffy st-stop, put me down, please.”

Sanji stepped up beside Zoro, eyes narrowing as Luffy set you down. 

You turned your back on them to face your captain.

“Luffy, I’m not ready to tell you yes, or no yet. Please give me time to decide.”

He looked into your face, his deep, brown eyes so intense. His breath was heavy as he looked from your eyes, to your mouth, and back again.

“Y-Yes, Y/N, I’m sorry.”

With a sigh of relief, you touched his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Luffy. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

You turned to see that Robin had joined the boys. She came toward you as Luffy walked away, the mania seeming to have seeped out of him for the moment. 

Robin nudged you all up, and you silently followed her to the crow’s nest. She turned to you, pulling you into a gentle hug.

“Are you, okay?”

“Not yet,” you whispered as you looked into Zoro’s eyes, hating his blank stare. Sanji’s jaw was still clenching slightly, and you felt sick.

Robin stepped in to ask the questions the boys couldn’t.

“Do you want to continue seeing Luffy?”

Exhaling sharply, you felt your fingers gripping against your thighs until Robin took your hands again.

“I honestly hadn’t thought about it. I thought it was a one time thing.”

“But would you want more if that was an option?”

“... Not if everyday would be like today. Not if it would disturb what we all have together.”

You couldn’t read the expressions on the boys’ faces.

“So if a balance could be found, you would enjoy spending more time with Luffy?”

You let yourself breathe and truly sit with the question. It was all so out of the blue, it had never seemed like an option before last night. And today was absolute chaos. 

You thought of the intensity in his stare when he looked at you, when he wanted you and your pleasure. You thought of how ridiculous he is, and how much you admire him, even with his chaos. 

You thought of Zoro, of how he’d grown so much in your time together, finally able to speak his needs. I don’t want to hurt him.

“I would be interested in seeing what it would be like. But absolutely not if it made any of you feel uncomfortable.”

Everyone was silent, and you tried to relax, focusing on the gentle breeze caressing your face. 

Clearing his throat, Sanji leaned toward you. 

“I would support you in exploring, uh. In pursuing your- um, in following your desires,” he said, his nervous smile fading for a moment. “However, if he mistreats you or handles you that way again, we will have a problem.”

“I agree,” Robin chimed in. “If you are going to explore that, we will have to ensure that our captain understands your boundaries.”

Sanji gave a choked laugh. Robin seemed to fight her small smile at him before returning her eyes to yours. 

“He is our captain, but you are our partner. If he can’t respect your boundaries, then I will not be able to support you seeing each other.”

Nodding slowly, you turned to meet Zoro’s gaze again, needing him to speak. He finally did. 

“He’s my captain. I won’t stand in the way of his happiness.”

Frowning slightly, you stepped closer.

“I won’t stand in the way of your happiness, Zoro. I don't need to do this. You are my priority.”

His lips pursed, and he looked over the railing. You couldn’t breathe, until he reached out, gently taking your hand. 

“It’s okay, Y/N. If you want to try, I’m okay with it,” he said, his voice soft while your chest filled with warmth. “Besides, he may be my captain, but I will still kick his ass if he grabs you like that again.”

“So will I,” you heard Sanji agree while you launched into Zoro’s arms. Breathing him in, you felt so safe. 

Robin and Sanji both held you too before you climbed back down to the deck. Your whole body was buzzing. Is this really happening?

Luffy was suddenly there, grinning at you all.

“So, can I help?”

Robin’s bright laugh was too much, and you couldn’t hold back a soft chuckle. Especially when you caught Nami across the deck, looking at you like you’d just turned into a whale.

“Luffy, there are some rules-”

“Can we do rules later,” he whined as he stepped toward you.

“Listen here, captain. Y/N’s not a toy, and you’re gonna have to share.”

“Share like a toy?”

He looked genuinely confused and you groaned at the frustrated growls from Sanji and Zoro. Robin’s laughter was like lovely background music, keeping the tone light.

Robin stepped in, walking up close to you. 

“Luffy, why don’t you join us at our meeting tomorrow after breakfast and we can tell you how things work.”

“Okay,” Luffy nodded, his grin growing wider as he kept his hungry eyes on you. 

“Do you want to go with him now?”

Robin’s whisper sent shivers through you. You looked at Luffy’s hands, clenching on air to keep from grabbing at you.

“Yes,” you whispered back, feeling a bit insane. 

“Luffy, you always need to ask Y/N what she wants before doing it, otherwise I will personally throw you into the sea.”

Robin’s dark voice made everyone go still, and you adored her even more. 

Luffy looked at her now, brows furrowed as he nodded at her. He turned his eyes back to you, looking serious, and determined, and you fought a laugh. 

“Y/N, do you wanna come with me?”

You looked back at your partners, loving each of them so much, especially for trusting you. Turning your eyes back to your captain, you smiled in disbelief, still not sure how you’d managed all of this. 

“Yes, captain.”

Luffy didn’t stretch his arms and fling you this time, but he did grab you, and fling you over his shoulder while he ran inside. You heard Robin laughing over the boys’ outrage, and you laughed breathlessly as you watched her hold them back for you. 

“Wait, Luffy!”

He stopped immediately, still holding you over his shoulder until you tapped him.

I just have to grab something, I’ll meet you there.”

His smile faltered, and you shook your head, leaning close to reassure him.

“I’m just grabbing a condom, unless you have some in your room?”

His grin returned, and he waited for you outside your quarters, before grabbing your wrist and dragging you to his.

He slammed the door closed behind you, and then you were gasping for air. 

Luffy’s mouth and hands were taking you over. His tongue invaded your mouth while he grabbed at your shoulders and hips, fingers slipping beneath your clothes to grab more of you. 

You reached your own hands to his lower back, teasing at his warm skin. The feel of his teeth as he sucked your lower lip into your mouth made you moan, feeling your body twisting for him already. 

“Mm, I’m so glad you wanna play with me.”

Gasping at his raspy words in your ear, you reached to grab the hair at the back of his neck beneath his hat, loving the sounds he made for you.

“How do you want to play, Luffy?”

He lifted you, carrying you to the bed before setting his hat down gently. 

“I wanna make you feel good.”

Your eyes rolled back, until you moaned softly for him. Luffy was rubbing and squeezing his hands all over your body over your clothes. 

Sitting up to remove them, you fell back as he pounced on you, licking and sucking at your neck. You reached up to pull at his hair now that you could grab more of his soft curls. 

Luffy moaned in your ear, and started rutting against your center. The feel of his cock, so hard under all the clothes, made your back arch. 

“That feel good, Y/N?”

“Mmhmm.”

He whimpered as he kept going, and the pressure on your clit was making your breath hitch. 

Reaching and clawing at him, you got him out of his shirt. You tried to pull his shorts down, but he kept moaning and rutting against you, driving you mad now. 

“Please Luffy, I need more.”

“Mm, more what,” he breathed in your ear as he left trails of sloppy kisses along your neck and jaw. Crying out for him, you felt your body writhing, needy for more. 

“Please fuck me, Luffy. I want to feel you.”

He thrust against you harder now, the friction of your clothes starting to be too much, making you whimper.

“You okay,” Luffy asked as he pulled back, concern covering his features.

“I’m okay, Luffy, just please fuck me.”

As his manic grin returned, he helped free you from your clothes. He got distracted by your breasts, touching, squeezing, licking, and sucking until you were shaking and dripping with need. 

“Lu-Luffy…”

“Where’s the-”

You pointed desperately at your clothes, panting as he fisted the condom onto his swollen cock. 

“Y/N, I’m a rubber man!”

His cheesy grin as he gestured to himself with the condom on made you burst out laughing.

“Yes, you are,” you managed to breathe out before he was on you again, kissing the laughter away. 

He rubbed his cock up and down along your folds, drenching himself in all your wetness. He gripped his length, toying with your clit until you were tearing up.

“P-Please, Luffy!”

“You really wanna play with me, huh, Y/N?

All you could do was nod, your whole body burning, needing release. 

Luffy lined himself up, and plunged into you. He muffled your moan by shoving his tongue back down your throat. 

You were so close from all his teasing. The feel of him thrusting into you while his hands kept grabbing hungrily at you was overwhelming. You clawed at his back, and he groaned into your mouth, the sensations overwhelming you until you were over the edge.

Bucking under him, you held your screams in since you weren’t sure if Franky had soundproofed his room. Until Luffy bit your neck, and dug his fingers into your skin. You screamed his name then, and his moans got louder.

He kept fucking you while you came down, and you were already so overstimulated.

“P-Please-”

“Felt so good, squeezing me like that, Y/N. Do it again, pleease.”

Luffy’s desperate voice cracked you, and you couldn’t resist.

“Yes, Luffy, come for me please.”

He groaned, pulling away from your upper body, but continuing to thrust into you. He was on his knees now, and he lifted one of your legs over his shoulder. His rhythm got faster and harder at the new angle, and you were almost there again, crying out his name. 

His dark eyes looked down at you, sending chills across your skin.

He brought one of his thumbs to your clit, at the same time that he started kissing and licking at your calf over his shoulder, and you raked your nails across your own skin as you came on his cock again. 

You heard his groans of pleasure seconds before you felt his cock twitch inside of you, feeling the force of his release within you. He dropped your leg, making you both gasp as he slipped out. Then he covered your body, laying on top of you while you laughed and struggled to breathe. 

“Lu-Luffy?”

He mumbled something at you, and you shook him as best you could. 

“Luffy, I can't breathe.”

He bolted upright, his sleepy look making you laugh. 

“Let’s clean up.”

He looked down at the very full condom and giggled.

“Rubber,” you asked, shaking your head at your ridiculous captain.

His smile widened, and he stretched his arm across the room to grab a towel for you, waiting for you before cleaning himself off. 

“Are you hungry,” he asked, looking like a starving puppy.

“I need a few minutes, Luffy.”

“Oh, right!”

Luffy crawled back into bed, curling himself around you. You twitched as he started grabbing, and kissing, and sucking at your skin again.

“Luffy!”

“I’m sorry, did I hurt you?”

He’d pulled back, looking scared.

“No, I’m just sensitive after all of that.”

“Sorry, Y/N. Did it feel good?”

“Mm, so good, Luffy.”

He cuddled up closer to you then, this time keeping his hands and mouth still. For a while you sat there, running through all that had happened since last night. This is wild. 

You stroked your fingers through your captain's hair, his snores not enough to keep you from napping with him. 

Jolting awake, you yelped at Luffy's face inches from yours.

“Are you hungry yet, Y/N?”

Luffy had thrown on his clothes, and looked like he was dying of hunger as he rocked from side to side in front of you. Laughing, you reached for your clothes, ready to restart this crazy day. 

“Yes, captain.”

Thank You For Reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

A/N: After writing the first part, I just couldn't picture this Luffy being satisfied with one night so 🤷🏼 Lol, I hope you enjoyed this miniseries!