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[pandora-writes-one-piece]

The Meet Cute - Law's Story - 5

Source for pic

The Great Pretender 5 🔞

Word Count: 7361

Tags For The Whole Story: Fem!Reader; Law is a soft dom; you have bratty tendencies (not all the time); voice kink; praise kink; cursing; very suggestive behaviour and innuendo from the start; sexual tension; teasing; so much flirting; romance; slow-burn; fluff; slight angst; mature audiences (though explicit NSFW moments will be properly tagged on the chapter); possessive Law; protective Law; soft Law; teasing Law; manipulative Doflamingo; inappropriate Doflamingo; fake relationship trope; only one-bed trope; reader has some anxiety issues; reader is a control freak and perfectionist; modern day AU

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

Summary: After moving away from the hustle and bustle of Grand Line City to help your father around the property following a horse-riding accident - and in the hopes of healing your broken heart after your asshole ex-fiancé cheated - you settle into the country calmness of the Calm Belt. You and Law (your father's doctor) start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend.

Notes: Guys this chapter is biiiig! I'm so sorry. But I didn't want to cut it short and remove such a fun interaction at the end... It has a lot of important information going on but it's a bit NSFW, k? Not too explicit, but still... 🔞

Tag List: @rosidaze @beachaddict48 @armiliadawn @jintaka-hane @sprinkklz @baby5555 @hopelesslover06 @mars-mizuko @sleepykittycx @nerium-lil

Masterlist

|Chapter 4|

You barely see Law after that encounter because of your conflicting schedules. He texts you the details for the wedding, stressing the need to dress to impress and tries to offer you money to buy dresses but you refuse vehemently saying there’s no need. 

You have a friend with the classiest, sluttiest closet you've ever known: Nami. 

She, however, forces you to buy new lingerie to go with the dresses because there's no way you can wear satin with granny panties underneath. Only sultry lace. You almost think you got away with not telling her who your date for the wedding would be, but you bump into Kaya and Usopp, and learn that Law informed Kaya of his absence because of a wedding he's going to attend. 

Nami can add two and two. 

And she does it in front of Kaya and Usopp which renders the rest of your afternoon useless while you are teased relentlessly. 

On the plus side, Nami's dresses are really beautiful, fit you perfectly and you both find the perfect colours to complement your complexion. You pack extra dresses, just in case. 

And extra panties. 

Law tells you that you're to leave Friday morning because you have to be at the Donquixote household in the afternoon and the drive to the city still takes a while - you manage to do extra hours at work on Thursday to compensate for your absence. You'll sleep there for three nights, the rehearsal dinner is on Saturday, the wedding and reception are on Sunday, and then you’ll come back Monday morning - you'll compensate for those hours on Tuesday. 

That means you'll spend about four days pretending to be Law's girlfriend. 

After the heated moment you had while practising, you're feeling both apprehensive and excited about the prospect. You've had a taste of what he's been telling you, how rewarding it can be to let go of your control, to let someone else take over. It felt good, freeing and so pleasurable. 

And he barely even showed you the tip of the iceberg. 

You're aching for more of his relentless teasing, you're pretty sure you can kiss him faster this time. You just want to taste him again. 

Sighing, you decide to finish packing. It's going to be a long weekend. As you take the dresses out of the bag Nami put them in, your eyes widen at the unexpected surprise she left there. 

A box of condoms. 

Sneaky Nami. Does she think she's witty and funny? 

Joke's on her, you're taking them anyway! 

Deep down, you're hoping you get to use them.

-*-

Law greets you normally from inside the car, as if nothing happened and he wasn't probing your throat with his tongue earlier this week. 

You, on the other hand, immediately lose it at the sight of his smirk. 

Fuck. He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on you. He knows he's got you wrapped around his little finger. And that's why you're not going to make this easy on him. 

“Hi.”

You exclaim tensely as you approach the car, already struggling to figure out how to open the door to his sleek, black Tesla. Yet, Law doesn't give you any time to make a fool of yourself as he gets out of the car and opens the door for you. You can't help but notice how casual and sexy he looks. Black jeans and a yellow t-shirt, paired with expensive sunglasses that fit him like he’s a movie star - that's the whole look, and it drives you crazy. 

He sees you checking him out, so he leans in and places a soft kiss on your cheek as his hand grips your waist, pulling you towards him. “Hi, sweetheart, you look gorgeous.”

Freezing in place, you feel your cheeks burning from the intimacy of his greeting. Your father watches you both from the porch, coffee mug in hand and a silly grin on his face. 

“How are you doing, Mr. S.?” Law's eyes barely leave yours, an amused glint making them twinkle and sparkle. 

“Oh, I'm mighty fine! I'm greatly enjoying the show!” Shanks replies, his shit-eating grin still in place and you already regret sharing with him what you were doing this weekend. Truth be told, you didn't exactly tell him you were going as Law's girlfriend, you just said you were going as his date, in a friendly manner, so Law could avoid his uncle. But after the way the doctor greeted you, you're sure your father now firmly believes there's more than friendship between you. 

You mumble curses at both men as Law lets go of you to place your bags in the trunk of the car. Then he lays your dresses neatly in the backseat, near his suits, so they don't wrinkle too much. 

“Bug, be careful!” Shanks admonishes from the porch. 

“Yes, yes, I will! Call if you need anything.” You say, mostly out of habit more than anything else, because your father would be much better off calling Ace or Beckman if he needed immediate assistance since you'll be far away. 

“I won't. Have fun!” You wave him goodbye as you enter the car and Law closes your door, but you watch as his grin widens. “Law, take care of my baby girl, will you?”

Law then closes the backdoor of the car and chuckles. “Sure will, Mr. S.” He waves and enters the car, taking his seat and burning you with his amber gaze and sexy smirk. His hand lands on your exposed thigh and he squeezes softly. “I'll take good care of her.” He whispers, earning a muffled gasp as you purse your lips to contain the incriminating sound. 

As he chuckles again, fastens his seat belt, and inputs the new destination into the GPS, you take a deep breath, steadying your heart rate. You're determined to not let him hold the same control over you as he did the other day. 

Very determined.

But as he backs the car away, completely disregarding the cameras on the dash and placing his tattooed bare arm behind your seat to look back - dark, tinted sunglasses in place and an unreadable expression - you sigh and close your eyes, your determination leaving you in a heartbeat. 

This is going to be a long ride. 

-*-

As soon as he enters the interstate, you fish out your tablet from your purse, turning it on and adjusting the brightness so you can read the screen. 

“You're really going to ignore me? Am I less interesting than all your book boyfriends?” He says, eyes fixed on the road since there's a bit of traffic. 

You try to hide a small blush by adjusting your sunglasses. He's not right. He's way more interesting than any book boyfriend. He's real. 

“I'm not going to read.” You ignore his comment, trying to steer away from every chance he gets to gain the upper hand. “I'm opening our list so we can cover the important questions that were left unanswered the other day. Since it's a long ride, we can study. And maybe make up a story about how we met and fell in love. A believable one.” You mumble. 

Law scoffs. “Again with that list. Fine, if we must.”

“We must.” You reinforce your statement. “We still haven't covered our personal stories… maybe that's important? It could come up.”

You glance at him and notice that familiar crease forming in the middle of his eyebrows. You know he moved in with his uncles at ten but you have no idea how his parents died, and that's something a girlfriend would know. You’ve shared everything about your parents and their divorce with him already, but there's still your story about Ichiji, which you're not so keen on sharing. 

He sighs deeply, his face falling into that stoic expression. “Later. Also, why do we need a love story? Isn't ours perfect?”

The tablet you're holding almost falls to the ground as your head whips to the side. “Ours? What do you mean?”

The smirk returns as his foot presses the gas and he passes two slow cars in the right lane. “You're the daughter of my surgery patient. As soon as I laid eyes on you, I knew you were special. When you passed out in my office while yelling at me, I was certain. When you fumbled and made a fool of yourself just because I was examining you, I knew there was no way out of it. When your expression intensified as I called you a ‘good girl’, I was deeply ensnared. The rest came naturally. I helped your father, we got close, we fell in love.”

You're staring at him, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. Is this how he feels? Or is this pretence? Because the way he told the story was really believable. The thrumming of your heart is slower and steadier than when he's teasing you, something much more grounding than the usual feeling, but no less intense. 

“What do you think? Is it believable enough or should I add more details?” 

Oh… It’s not real. 

“No,” You clear your throat, “it's perfect. Everyone will buy it.”

You did. 

-*-

“There's another important thing we still haven't discussed. I don't think you covered it in your professional-looking spreadsheet.” Law says when you're taking a break from asking him questions, trying to memorise some of his answers so you don't slip up when it really matters. 

He sounds serious, so you take your eyes off your tablet to look at him. “Oh? I covered everything.” You say with a slight edge. 

Law's low chuckle is not condescending. “Yes, you covered daily things, information, wants and hopes for the future.” He takes his eyes off the road for a second to look you in the eyes. “You didn't cover boundaries.”

Your mind instantly takes you to the heated moment you shared when he kissed you. If you had any boundaries set then, would he still have done it? You don't want to go without his touch. 

It's far too addictive. 

“Oh. That.” 

“Yeah, that. It's important. What are your boundaries? What is off the table? Besides sex, obviously. We don't need to do it to fool anyone.” You lock your tablet, fixing your eyes on the road ahead and pondering. He's right, sex is a big boundary. But what are your other boundaries? 

“Well… I… I don't mind doing what we did in your house.” Why does your voice sound so small? 

“Speak up, sweetheart, don't be afraid to tell me what you want.” He uses that commanding tone that sends shivers down your spine and twists your stomach. 

Taking a deep breath, you steady your voice, fixing your eyes on the licence plate of the car in front of you. “I think we should kiss… because of appearances… and I like all the teasing, and the touching… I don't mind having to beg for it.” You whisper again, cheeks ablaze and heart pounding. 

“It's nothing to be ashamed of. I also like it when you say please.” Fuck. 

“Is the AC on?” You stammer and he chuckles low, setting the AC higher. 

“What else?” You open your mouth and close it a few times. This one is a little harder to get out. Law takes a look at you and smirks. “You like it when I call you ‘good girl’, right?”

Fuuuuck! The voice! It's his voice! It makes everything - better! - worse! 

“Yes!” The words leave your lips in a hurry and you take a deep breath again. Why is this so hard? 

You never had to speak about these things with Ichiji, about what you want or like. You had ‘normal’ sex where he focused on getting himself off. He didn't especially chase your pleasure, not if he wasn't in the mood for foreplay. But this conversation isn't about sex, anyway, it's about boundaries so you should focus! 

“How about touching? Where can't I touch you?”

“Erm… Below the waist?” You try, tentatively. Thinking about his hands on your body is already leaving your brain in a puddle of mush. 

“So I can't touch your legs?”

“You can!” Another blush creeps in. “And you can touch my butt too…” That sentence comes out as a mumble but he hears it. 

“So it's just your vagina I can't touch, right?” He’s amused by your embarrassment and you know it. 

“Yes, doctor.” A loud sigh leaves your lips. “How about you? Where can't I touch?” Time to turn the tables! 

“Sweetheart, you can't touch me anywhere. I'm in control, remember?” His smirk is unbearable. And unbearably hot. 

“That's not fair, Law!” 

“You're right, it’s not. But you’ll only touch me if I allow you to, if you’re being good.” He lets out another chuckle, a low rumble. “The same rules as you, then.”

“So I can’t touch your vagina?” The smirk on your lips is teasing and you both share a laugh. 

“Yes, that’s what I meant.” A smirk of amusement still lingers on your lips when he asks you the next question. “So everything else is fine? What we did before? The teasing, the touching?” He asks one more time.

“Yes. All of that is fine.” It’s welcomed, even. “Should we… should we save these interactions for when we’re n public?”

“I don’t think we can very well do that in public.” He teases.

“You’re right. Maybe when we feel like it?” You have to admit you relished in the complete surrender of control you experienced the other day. You see yourself getting slowly addicted to that feeling. “I've been thinking and what you did the other day soothed me… I wouldn't mind exploring that… Besides, I think whatever interaction that serves to deepen our pretence is…” Needed, desired, wanted! “Beneficial to our act.”

“Oh.” He sounds surprised. “You want to be spontaneous? Where is your need to control every little situation?”

Your hands fidget with the hem of your dress, straightening it and then picking at a thread as your mind wanders. You’re trying to let go, like he said. Trying to surrender. Trying to let him help you do that. But you don’t quite know how to answer him. You want his help, but you don’t want to impose. You don’t want to force him to help you. Does that even make sense?

You feel it even before you see it. Law’s hand sits on your leg, a bit above the knee and he squeezes. “It’s alright. One step at a time. There’s no rush.”

-*-

The ride keeps going at a steady pace, you fill in the blanks of some seemingly unimportant questions like: ‘when was your first kiss, and with whom?’ or ‘do you want to have kids?’ Meaningless stuff normal couples would talk about. Law gets tired of the questions pretty quickly and just as the GPS indicates that you're about halfway to your destination, he drives the car to a rest area so he can stretch his legs and asks you if you want some coffee. 

You couldn't agree more. Your legs feel stiff and your butt aches. 

Law puts the car in the fast charger as you both head inside to grab some coffee and use the restroom. Neither of you wants to sit down again, but, conveniently, there are trees surrounding the whole rest area and there's a path connecting the entirety of it, so you both decide to walk it, to pass the time and stretch your legs. 

After a few moments, you try again. “About our pasts, Law, as my boyfriend I would have told you all about my ex…” You decide to start, since talking about his parents’ death must be very hard for him. 

He nods and glances at you so you know he's listening. “We were together for around four years, having moved in together after one year of dating. He proposed to me last year and we were already planning the wedding, it was pretty serious and I genuinely thought I was in love. He's the son of a very powerful man and I worked for his father at a very prestigious company.” Ichiji's name is at the tip of your tongue, you could just say it. But you're certain Law knows who he is and maybe that's a bit more information than you're willing to share right now. Talking about an anonymous asshole beats talking about someone he can picture doing terrible things to you. 

Taking a deep steadying breath after a small sip of coffee, grounds you as you continue, the soft crunch of gravel beneath your feet lending you some sort of comfort. “I found out he was cheating on me and a little research proved he had always been cheating on me, since the beginning, I was just too blind to see it. He was manipulative, controlling and a bit possessive - all in terrible, demeaning and very dangerous ways. He made me feel like it was my fault that he cheated, that I wasn't good enough for him, that I would never be good enough for anybody. Instead of feeling safe around him, I always felt on edge, it was… it was unbearable.”

You don't even realise that you’ve stopped on the path, your eyes fixed somewhere else, not focused on anything. The pain from the past still manages to hinder and hurt you. It's Law's touch that brings you back. His hand on your waist, pulling you to him helps you remove yourself from those hurtful events. He leans his head to your ear and whispers, his breath hot against your shivering skin. 

“If this were real, I would make you forget all about that asshole.” His fingers dip against your skin and he grits his teeth. “There's nothing I can do about him now, but I can help you overcome the pain.” You nod slowly, your mind hazy as to what's real or not. “If this were real, I would never make you feel like that. You'd be all I have ever wanted. I would make you see that you're more than enough, that you're everything.”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the intensity of his voice as you feel the familiar prickle of tears in your eyes. Your mind is reeling and your heart is racing again. This is too confusing. 

“Law,” you whisper, blinking and taking a small step back but not pulling away from his grasp. “We need some sort of signal, some way to know we're faking or being real. It's too much. I can't handle this, I need a semblance of control.”

He grunts, pulling away from you as his fingers tousle his black hair and you both resume your walk. “You're right.”

“Should it be verbal? Like a safe word? Or something physical?” 

“Verbal might be too obvious. Doflamingo is very sharp. We have to use something physical. Not too conspicuous, something of meaning to both of us.” Law looks at you, trying to come up with something. “Do you always wear earrings?” 

He eyes your ears, you currently have small hoops on - quite similar to the ones he's wearing. “Usually, yes. I can wear them all weekend, I have different ones to go with the dresses.”

“Okay.” He says as he stops, making you stop too. Then he takes a step closer to you, his hand raising near your ear. “When I'm faking it, I'll start with this.” His fingers touch your ear, twirling your earring as his lips curve upwards. “And then I'll do whatever action I was going to do to pretend. You can do the same to me, I won't take off my earrings either.”

You nod as he drops his hand and you raise yours, to give it a try. Your eyes pierce his and his amber gaze is quite soft. Softer than you've ever seen him. Could it be because of what you shared about Ichiji? Your fingers graze his ear and you notice the way his jaw clenches at the touch. 

You haven't touched him like this yet. He's the one who’s been doing all the touching. You just remember feeling his taut muscles against your palms as he was kissing you senseless. But no light touches, no teasing. How will he react further? 

Your digits circle the loop of one of his earrings and, as you drop your hand, you let the tip of your nails lightly scratch his neck. He hisses with a deep inhale as he grabs your hand mid-air, to stop you. “Yes, like that. It works.”

You got under his skin. 

It's not just you who gets affected by light touches, you can bend him to your will, though you doubt very much he'll ever let you do it. 

You resume your walk, but he doesn't let go of your hand. You're too afraid to ask if it's real or fake, but since you both used the signal now, it must be fake. 

It's his turn to speak but he doesn't seem willing at all. “Law you don't have to share. Maybe it's something you don't want to say to your girlfriend, it's okay. I'm sure your own family understands how hard it is for you. I would understand too, if this were real.” You give his hand a gentle squeeze and he lets out a deep breath and a slight nod. 

Your walk continues in peaceful silence for a while. 

“Both my parents were doctors. They were wonderful parents, full of life.” The crease in the middle of his brows is there again, but so is a very tender, longing smile. “I had a younger sister, too. She was very bright and happy.”

Had? Has she passed too? You feel your heart sinking as he continues his story. 

“There was a fire, a house fire, something completely accidental. They all died. I was with uncle Cora, he and Doffy were my mother's siblings.” He stops speaking, his jaw clenches and you can feel sweat in his hand. It's the most out of control you've seen him until now and yet, he still seems collected and cool. “That's the gist of it. I moved in with my uncles and the rest is history.”

He has shared the rest with you. About how kind and amiable Cora is and how ruthless and powerful Doffy is. He doesn't seem to fear Doflamingo, it's a lingering respect. But what you sense most when he speaks of him is disgust or resentment. So you realise that he hasn't told you the whole story. There's more to learn about Trafalgar Law. Maybe not about his parents or their death - that seems pretty straightforward - but perhaps some other interactions he's had with Doflamingo while growing up. 

He doesn't share and you don't press. If he doesn't feel the need for you to know, it's because it's something he wouldn't share lightly. 

“I'm so sorry.” You mutter as you squeeze his hand again. 

A few moments pass in silence again and you discard your empty coffee cups in a trash can along the path. The car is in sight and Law's phone tells him it's fully charged so you're ready to go. 

“Oh, Law?” He stops near the car to stare at you. “How long should we say we've been dating? It's a pretty important question we need to know. And if it's true, maddening love, we need to have had some time to let it mature and-...”

“Two months. I met you around two and a half months ago. I don't need much more time than that to realise you're special and you're someone I want to be with.” He shrugs as if he's said the most natural thing in the world and opens the car door for you, waiting for you to get inside before closing it. 

You can't help but notice that he didn't touch your earrings when he said that. 

-*-

Ever since you left the freeway and the GPS timer keeps getting smaller as you approach your destination, Law has been quieter. The flirtatious, teasing demeanour he uses with you has been completely replaced by his normal stoic expression. The crease in his forehead deepens as you approach Donquixote’s household. 

You try to engage in small talk, but the only response you get are grunts and nods, so you don't press further. He blasts his music and you don't complain. It might be his way of coping. If it were you in his shoes, you know you'd be close to a panic attack by now, but he's pretty composed, considering. 

Only someone who's spent time with him, getting to know him, learning his little tells, can realise he's upset, anxious and nervous. You know his uncle will pick it up immediately. 

Law takes a deep sigh as the GPS announces the destination and stops the car in front of a large gate, near the intercom, waiting to be buzzed inside. You look at him, placing your hand on his leg because he's gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles are almost white. 

“Hey, I've got you.” You mimic the words he used on you when he was operating on Shanks. His gaze softens and he breathes deeply, his shoulders relaxing a bit as the gates open wide. 

Your eyes dart around in awe. You see a grand mansion at the end of the road, but the way there is adorned with trees and flowers of all kinds. The gardens are immense and opulent. Just like the man who owns them. You peek at the top of a few tents on the back of the house, probably where the wedding reception will take place, and the gardens are buzzing with activity. Gardeners polish the last touches on the flowers, while servants make last minute preparations for the decorations. They all seem tense, as if nothing can be out of place. 

And if Doflamingo likes control as much as Law does, then there really can't be anything out of place. 

Law parks the car as you see two blonde men at the top of the steps leading to the mansion. They're huge. Law is tall, they're taller. He inhales deeply as his eyes meet yours, a glint in them, the crease still parting his brow, and then he touches your earring. “Are you ready?”

You nod and ignore the twists and turns in your stomach, the discomposed rhythm of your heart, the many scenarios in your head where everything goes wrong. Instead, you smile brightly, repeat his gesture and squeeze his hand. “Let's sell this, Law.”

He nods and gets out of the car, you're about to do the same but discover that your door has a child lock. As Law moves around the car to open the door for you, you realise that it serves this single purpose and you can't help but to blush. In four years of your relationship, not once has Ichiji held a door open for you. In less than a week of a fake relationship, Law does it constantly. 

He holds out his hand to help you out and you smile sweetly at him, unconsciously passing a hand through your hair to straighten it as you adjust your summer dress. Cora - you assume, since you know the other man is Doflamingo - runs down the steps to greet his nephew, but slips and falls spectacularly, bumping his butt on at least three steps before landing awkwardly on his knees. 

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle a gasp and Law shakes his head as he approaches his uncle. 

“Cora… come on! Again?” He admonishes as the blonde man laughs and pats his butt. 

“I'm fine, I'm fine.” Law helps him up and both men embrace. It's a long hug during which Cora whispers something to Law, who clenches his teeth and nods, hugging him back. 

It's sweet. They really care for each other. 

Then Cora sets his eyes on you, they glimmer as he lets go of Law and with one stride, he's by your side, exclaiming your name and holding you in a tight embrace. “Welcome, welcome! It's so nice to meet you! It's been a while since Law brought a girl home!”

Oh… Interesting. He didn't mention any other important relationship, in fact, when you were covering past flings, he told you he doesn't really do the girlfriend thing. He just dates, sometimes. But he apparently had an interesting relationship before. 

However, you don't act surprised. You're pretty sure Doflamingo is watching you closely, even though he doesn't make a move to come down the steps. You'll go to him. It's as if he's the King of the mansion and you're just his loyal subjects, bowing to him. 

“I'm flattered.” You smile softly as Cora steps back. “What Law and I have is special.” This was a rehearsed phrase. But you deliver it perfectly, looking lovingly at Law, who smiles back at you, his hands in his pockets and sunglasses hanging on his shirt collar. 

“I believe you!” He grabs your arm to help you up the stairs, though you sense you'll be the one keeping him from falling, and then he turns to Law and mouths - in what he thinks is a veiled whisper but is anything but that - “She's breathtaking, Law! Well done!”

Law chuckles and shakes his head at his uncle but, as soon as you're all facing Doflamingo’s inquisitive gaze, Law tenses again. Cora leaves you to join his brother's side and Law is instantly connected to you, his hand on your waist, pulling you to him. You notice his fingers digging deeper and harder than any of the times he's grabbed you, but you don't acknowledge his discomfort. 

“Well, well, well…” Doflamingo’s voice is deep, commanding and imposing and you can't help the way your hairs bristle when he lets out a low chuckle. “Hello dearest nephew… and how interesting.”

What is supposed to be interesting? You hope he hasn't recognized you from any of the Vinsmokes’ events! Maybe you should have shared with Law who your ex was. It seems like it's something he should know. There’s no point in worrying about it now! You can't let your distress show, especially because Law keeps tensing up by your side, so you have to ground him. 

“Good to meet you, sir.” You drawl, a bit embarrassed at the way his piercing gaze hasn't left you since the moment you arrived. 

“Oh,” he chuckles again and this time looks at Law, a terrifying grin showing all his teeth. “Polite.” He nods and turns back to you, slightly raising his chin to emphasise your height difference. “Good girl.” He purrs and winks. 

What?

You immediately tense up and Law squeezes your waist harder. 

“Uncle Doffy, we're really tired from the trip and the car ride. We'll retire and freshen up before dinner. Then we can get to know each other, how about that?” You can sense a slight change in the tone of Law's voice. What was commanding and assertive is now strained and measured. The crease in his forehead is deep and his scowl twists his expression. 

“But of course! Come on, come on kids! Let me take you to your room!” Cora takes over as some servants bring in your luggage. 

Law starts to walk, dragging you with him and he brushes his lips against your temple in what's supposed to be a loving gesture. His whisper is barely audible: “Relax.” You glance behind and catch Doflamingo still tilting his head. His grin is unsettling and disconcerting and, for the first time since you agreed to do this for Law, you start to doubt yourself. “Real or not, I won't let him hurt you.”

You don't know if he means physically or mentally. Either way, you're not prepared to suffer any attempt. And the way Law says that… It's like he already knows Doflamingo will do something. And that frightens you. 

Yet you take a deep breath and try to relax as Law guides you through large maze-like corridors, following Cora until you reach a big white door with golden handles. His uncle opens the door with a smile. “Ta-da!” He exclaims, opening both arms to show you the room. 

You stifle a gasp and turn it into a surprised expression. Law squeezes you tighter and smiles at his uncle. 

“It's the honeymoon suite for you two lovebirds!” He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “Well, not quite, we're not a hotel, so it's not really a honeymoon suite, it's a room with some amenities like a jacuzzi in the bathroom and privacy from the other rooms so you can… you know,” He chuckles some more, “talk as loudly as you want without being heard.”

Law groans at his uncle but a tentative chuckle escapes your lips at his attempt to lighten the mood. Your amusement is short-lived, however, as you survey the room. It might be private and away from the other rooms, but it's not that big. There's a huge bed and two cushioned armchairs, a closet, a vanity and a desk. No couch. Just one bed. For both of you. 

At least it's a big bed. 

“Thank you, Cora. We've got it from here.” Law smiles softly at his uncle and thanks the staff who brought in your luggage. When everyone leaves, he closes the door softly, leaning against it and briefly closing his eyes. 

You take a deep breath and set your purse on one of the armchairs. “Well that was intense.” 

Law's chuckle starts low and quickly turns into a groan as he looks at you. “I'm sorry, but I can guarantee you he will be much more inconvenient.”

You snort and roll your eyes. “Is that even possible?”

“Trust me, it is.”

You both laugh away the tension of the meeting and, after a brief time, as you're hanging your dresses in the closet, you speak again. “Your uncle Cora is lovely.”

Law is in the bathroom emptying his bag of products on the counter. “He's amazing. He's like a father to me.”

“I could tell.” You mutter. “What are the plans for tonight?”

Law senses the slight tremble in your voice as his head peeks from the bathroom. “Oh? Why? Do you need to rehearse everything beforehand?”

A sigh escapes your lips as you close the closet door to face him. “Considering Doflamingo is breathing down our necks, perhaps it's not a bad idea?”

“It's just a family dinner. Baby 5 will come too, along with the groom. Possibly the groomsmen, bridesmaids and some of Doffy’s associates. I bailed on the last board meeting and I'm pretty sure he'll want to bore me to death with company issues. Also, I predict that Doffy will ask personal questions while Cora will want to know if and when we'll get married and if and when we're gonna have kids.”

Law joins you in the room and you smile at him. “Cora is really sweet.” 

Raising an eyebrow, an amused glint dances in his gaze. “Should I be jealous?” His voice drops lower and a snicker curls your lip as a consequence of that. You're feeling bratty. 

“Maybe. I do like blondes.” Law grunts, reading immediately into what you're trying to do. “And he's so tall and big. I'm sure he'd make me feel small and-...” Law takes two strides, pushing you gently and pinning you against the closet door. One of his hands rests on the closet beside your head, while the other grabs your chin tightly, tilting it up so you can meet his eyes. “Weak…” You finish your sentence, cheeks already flushed and ablaze. 

Law's eyes glint with mischief, but his lips are pursed tight. He uses the hand near your head to brush your earring. 

The signal. 

“Do I have to remind you of who you belong to?” His voice drawls from his lips, his face is so close that you can feel his hot breath against your skin. 

Your fingers graze his earring lightly to use the signal, but his low hum warns you to return your hand where it was. No teasing is allowed on your part. “I was just commenting on how handsome and charming he is. I have eyes.” You know you're playing a part, you know it's fake, but you have no audience. This is for yourselves only. And you can't help the tiny sliver of anxiety tugging at your brain, telling you to keep pushing. Push enough so you can let go. 

So you can surrender. You need to surrender.

Law's eyes darken as he presses his body closer to you. You can feel his heat  against you, but the fire in his eyes burns ten times hotter. 

“You do, but they have to be on me all the time. You don't want to misbehave, do you, sweetheart?” His lips brush the skin of your collarbone, the hand on your chin tilts your head to the side as he nibbles your jaw, his tongue wet and teasing. 

Fuck. This is what you wanted, right? Now you have to deal with it. 

“You know what happens to bad girls?” His hand lowers as he traces down the middle of your breasts, trailing to your belly, dropping down some more - so close to where you want him, but you know he won’t touch - and then settles on your hip. 

“What?” You whisper, dying to know, anticipation making you tremble and shiver. 

Or is it his touch that's doing that? 

“They don't get what they want.” His teeth graze your earlobe. “They don't get what they need.” His hand raises your dress, fingers curling the fabric as his palm settles against your thigh, eliciting a choked moan from your lips. “They don't get what they crave.” His lips hover yours and you lean forward to capture them but he moves his head back, tutting you in a disapproving manner. 

“No, no, sweetheart. No kiss for you. You're being a brat.”

You swallow the lump in your throat as you squirm and press your thighs together. There's a fire burning in your belly that needs to be put out; a devastating thirst that needs quenching. 

“I can beg, Law. I can be a good girl.”

Fuck, where did this come from? 

The sound he makes is half-grunt, half-growl and it reverberates through his chest, making you gasp as you grab his neck, trying to pull him in for a kiss, trying to erase what your mouth said that your brain doesn't want to acknowledge. However, Law is faster, and stronger. His hands grab yours, pinning them above your head. One big hand of his is enough to hold your wrists, and he's barely using his strength. 

He shows you that slightly unhinged grin of his and you mewl at the sight, biting your lower lip. That grin right there, you realise, it's your favourite. “You say one thing sweetheart, and then you do another. We can't have that, can we?”

You shake your head, your eyes pleading for your mouth. Law's free hand returns to your side, he lowers it tantalisingly slowly as his thumb brushes circles on your dress, but his fingers burn so much that it's like they're pressing directly on your skin. 

“I told you that bad girls don't get rewarded.” He practically purrs against your ear. He does something sinful with his tongue on your earlobe and you close your eyes in abandon, arching your back and giving way to a wanton moan. His hand clenches your wrists tighter as his unholy tongue continues to tease you. He licks your neck and collarbone, then goes lower towards your cleavage. You can't stop the pants and gasps that escape your lips, making you tremble. 

There's a pressing need in your core screaming to be filled, or touched, or teased. Something, anything! But he's adamant about not fulfilling that need. 

“I promise I'll be good, Law.” You whisper. “Just…” Touch me. “Kiss me. Please!”

His lips hover over yours as he slots his knee between your legs. You fight the urge to ride his thigh, to grind your core against his taut muscles. You're pretty sure you could come undone from just that. “Is this what you want?” His breath is hot against your lips, his lips barely grazing yours. 

But now you know better than to push your luck. You stay still, your eyes nearly watering from the throbbing need. 

“Yes! Please.” Your whisper sounds like a prayer, but he's a relentless deity and shows it by pulling back, a smirk curling his lips. 

“You don't deserve it, sweetheart. You misbehaved. I warned you.” How can he be this cool and collected while you're falling apart? A mess of quivering bones and frail muscles? His hand grabs the back of your thigh, lifting your leg easily and slotting himself against you, giving you a taste, a sliver of the friction you want - need! “Bad girls are left wanting more.”

He presses further, his hand still groping the back of your thigh, fingers spreading over it. Your mind goes blank. You can feel his length pressed against you, you didn't think he'd do it, is this pushing your boundaries? He’s not touching you. And you want him there! Besides, this is fake. 

Right? 

But he's doing it. And you desperately want more. 

“Bad girls get teased until they can't take it any more.” He bites your lower lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but just enough to jolt you and shake your senses. “If this were real, sweetheart,” he begins, his voice huskier and raspier than ever, needier even, it seems. “I would bend you to my will and have you on the brink of exhaustion, pleads and prayers escaping your lips in mewls and moans, before I took you right here, against this closet, until you begged for release between screams and cries of desperation.”

The image he paints is so real that you almost feel yourself snap, the coil within you starts to unravel as he presses just a bit further, his lips hovering just above yours, his fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs. 

“But this is not real, and you've been a very good girl so far.” As his lips finally crash against yours, a soft thrust of his hip pushes him against your clothed clit. The friction of the seams on his jeans hits you just right, and you snap without any kind of warning.

Your back arches and you moan into his kiss like never before as your body clenches and squirms, your leg wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper into you. A freeing, warm sensation fills you, building like a flame, higher and higher and he takes it all. His tongue slides against yours, swallowing your moans as if he needs them to breathe. His hands grip you tight and he's still pressed flush against you. 

It's all too much. 

It's not enough. 

And it's over too soon. 

He parts the kiss and you're both left panting. Law doesn't meet your gaze as he removes his hands and composes your dress, pulling back slightly, while ensuring you can stand on your own. Clearly he overdid what he meant to do. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, worry lacing his words as you struggle to catch your breath. You should feel embarrassed. You’re in a fake relationship and yet, here you stand, in post-orgasmic bliss wondering if he regrets what just happened. But you’re not ashamed, far from it. You feel free. 

“Yes.” Your voice still comes out in shaky gasps, but your legs - though wobbly - manage to sustain you. 

Law nods and clears his throat. “I'm… I'm going to take a shower, to get ready for dinner. Unless you want to go first?”

“No, no. You go. I… I need to choose what I’ll wear first and-... you go.”

He nods, turning away from you, walking towards the bathroom, his pace more erratic than usual. 

What just happened?

[lost-in-fandoms]

https://www.tumblr.com/lost-in-fandoms/762168056269144064/thinking-about-streamer-max-who-lowkey-does?source=share

Omg. Omg!!!! Streamer Max my beloved! What does Daniel do when he stumbles onto Max's stream? I'm just imagining him clicking on a random link or something and suddenly bam he's got a face full of this pretty streamer with slutty short shorts!

(Anyway love your work and hope you have a great day!! 🥰)

You are so sweet I hope you have a great day too!!

Some slutty streamer Max to try and have something good to end the day with

Daniel sighs, rolling over towards the bedside table and grabbing his phone, checking the time for what feels like the twentieth time that night already.

4:42 am.

Just twenty minutes after the last time he checked.

He sighs again, sitting up slightly to drink some water, resigned to the fact that he'll probably won't get any sleep tonight either. If he's lucky, he'll get a couple hours when the sun is rising and then sneak a nap in somewhere during the afternoon.

He knows that jet lag is not helping, having landed in Perth from Los Angeles just two days ago, but he's been dealing with this insomnia for way too long to lie to himself any further. Sleep simply isn't coming.

He's tried most things already tonight, from the relaxing herbal tea his mom had recommended, to the white noise machine, to the podcasts, to the meditation. Nothing has worked.

He grabs his phone again, going through some of his messages and emails before clicking on the twitch app.

It's something new he's been trying the past couple of weeks, doesn't even remember who recommended it to him, and so far it hasn't worked, but at this point into the night he's willing to do anything. Whoever it was who first told him about it had been speaking about ASMR streams and music channels, but Daniel has been mostly browsing around, not really finding anything that catches his eye.

Tonight, he moves past the few streams he has followed already, scrolling through the live channels without looking for anything in particular, until something catches his eyes.

At first glance the stream doesn't look like anything special, even if the game itself looks cute, just a guy in a dimly lit room in a corner of the screen, mouth moving to say words Daniel can't hear yet, but.

The guy is sitting on a gaming chair, leaning back slightly in a way that Daniel doubts is fully comfortable, legs splayed, his short shorts bunched up to leave milky skin on display. He's using both hands to play, but just as Daniel is watching, slightly transfixed, he laughs, probably at something in chat, and brings one hand away to lightly scratch at his neck and then down to his leg, pulling it more to the side, fingers grazing on his crotch.

Daniel swallows.

He taps on the screen, opening the stream without really thinking about it, finally letting the guy's voice play through the speakers.

"...just for 40 more minutes. No, you cannot bribe me for one hour, Kiks, not even if you use the cute emote. I have work."

He has an accent, a lisp that comes out when he says Kiks, bright blue eyes and a lovely smile. And a hand that is still on his dick.

Daniel's eyes fall on the name of the stream, Farming some slimes, which tells him nothing, and the name of the game, Slime Rancher 2, which tells him that at least he's not in some sort of secret porn category, before going back to the camera square.

The guy is now playing again, hands just barely in view from where they're wrapped around the controller, and Daniel takes a breath, trying to gather his bearings after feeling like he's just been hit over the head with an hammer.

The chat is scrolling by slowly, his 236 viewers obviously not all interested in talking, so Daniel has no problem catching the last few messages. It's mostly people complaining about the guy leaving early, the person he was talking to earlier, KicksforKiks24, offering to gift some subs if he stays longer, and Daniel wonders if he is the only one noticing the absolutely sinful thighs on display here.

Nightnectior: What if I ask really nicely Max?

The new message pops up in chat, and Daniel watches as the streamer, Max apparently, laughs again, shaking his head.

"No, Night, I told you, I have things to do early in the morning."

Okay, maybe Daniel is the weird one here. Maybe he is the only one thinking about Max's legs and reading his posture wrong. Maybe he is the only perv in this chat, and everyone else is absolutely normal.

Severson: would love to see you do /things/ in the morning

Daniel chokes on his spit.

He's expecting Max to ignore it, or to delete the message, or to have any kind of reasonable reaction, but Max.

Max grins.

He blinks slowly, shifting on the chair almost casually, bringing one foot up to rest on the seat, shorts bunching up so much Daniel can see a hint of pubes, the outline of his balls and dick now fully visible, and then sliding a hand down his thigh to rest on his lower belly, fingers grazing his crotch again.

"Would you?" he asks, voice low.

Daniel has forgotten what Max's asking about. He's forgotten about anything that isn't the desire of sinking his teeth in the meat of his thigh, to have them wrapped around his head, and the knowledge that his dick is half hard already.

"I don't think that's how it works," Max says, in response to a message Daniel doesn't even care to look at right now. He's barely aware of the chat going faster now, more messages popping up in a rapid succession.

"Oh look at all of you, coming out to play."

Max's hand slides lower, now fully on his dick, as he giggles, a sliver of his stomach exposed too. Daniel's heart is beating in his ears. He doesn't know what's happening.

There's a new sound on the stream, something that startles Daniel out of his daze enough to realise someone has just donated €50 just to call Max a pretty boy.

Daniel wonders how hard it is to figure out how donations work. How much he can donate without his bank blocking his account. How much it would take for Max to do something.

He swallows, feeling slightly insane.

Max's fingers squeeze once.

Daniel's breath stutters in his chest, his hands twitching, wanting to touch himself too but so transfixed he doesn't dare moving.

And then Max shifts, grabbing the controller again and sitting up a bit, shirt falling back into place. Even if the outline of his dick is still clearly visible, something in the spell breaks, letting Daniel breathe again.

He can still feel his heart rabbiting in his chest, his mouth dry. His dick is hard under the sheets.

With a trembling finger, Daniel presses follow.

[rootedinrevisions]

Jealousy in Motion: Part 2

SUMMARY: Your relationship with Damian is going great. That is until you're put into a storyline where you have to kiss Jey Uso. Damian's reaction to seeing you kissing Jey in the middle of the ring is less than ideal. Later that night he makes sure to remind you who you belong to.

WARNING: Jealousy. Possessiveness. Biting. Leaving marks. P in V Sex.

WORD COUNT: 5.7k

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to the person who requested this! (will refrain from mentioning anyone in case they wish to remain anonymous.) Hope you enjoy it!

TAG LIST: @miss-kuki-nz I @just-another-personal-side-blog I @caramara3 I @yana3sworld I @terrortwinunicorn I @hotwheels1108

The hum of the crowd already gathering outside the arena was palpable as you pulled into the parking lot. You parked your car, exhaling deeply as you took a moment to collect your thoughts before heading inside. The last few months had been a whirlwind of great storylines, and tonight, you were particularly excited. You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and slung it over your shoulder, stepping out into the late afternoon light.

As you walked through the side entrance, security gave you a familiar nod, and you couldn’t help but feel the usual buzz of adrenaline that came with show days. Inside, the hustle and bustle of crew members, wrestlers, and staff filled the hallways, but you were quickly intercepted by one of the backstage producers.

"Hey, they need you in the meeting room with creative," he said.

You raised an eyebrow, slightly confused. You weren’t expecting to be pulled into anything major right away. Normally, you'd get time to settle in and catch up with some of the other superstars, but it seemed today was going to be different. You nodded and followed him, your mind already spinning with what could be on the agenda.

As you approached the meeting room, you could see through the open door that a few familiar faces were already seated. Jey was there, his usual confident demeanor slightly subdued, and around him were a handful of writers, along with Triple H at the head of the table. A quick glance from Jey gave you a hint of hesitation, which only made you more curious about what this meeting could be about.

You took a seat, nodding at everyone, and before you could ask what was going on, Triple H jumped right in.

"Alright, let’s get to it," he began, fo+5+lding his hands in front of him. "We’re shaking things up tonight. We’re putting you into the Rhea Ripley and Liv Morgan storyline.”

Your heart leaped a little at the mention of Rhea. She was one of your best friends, and working with her was something you’d always looked forward to. Plus, you had great chemistry with Liv, so the idea of being inserted into this feud was exciting.

But the excitement quickly shifted to confusion when Triple H continued. "You're going to turn on Rhea during tonight's segment."

You blinked, processing his words. "Turn on Rhea?" you echoed.

"Yeah," Triple H confirmed, leaning back in his chair. "You’ll go out to save her after Liv attacks, but then the twist—you're going to kiss Jey in front of Rhea and Damian. You’ll take off your shirt to reveal Jey’s underneath, showing that you’ve been aligned with him the whole time. Jey we’re going to spin it that you’ve been getting close to Rhea to get to what you actually want…her best friend."

You glanced at Jey, whose expression mirrored your shock. The idea of turning on Rhea, one of your closest friends, especially in such a public and dramatic way, made your stomach churn. And then the added element of kissing Jey in front of Damian, well… that complicated things even more.

Things between you and Damian had been going great for the past few months since that night in the club, and you knew Jey and Rhea were in a solid place in their developing relationship, too. This on-screen twist felt like it would blur the lines between real life and the storyline in ways that could create all kinds of tension.

"Are you sure?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

Triple H gave you a knowing smile, as if sensing your hesitation. "This is going to push the feud to the next level. The audience won’t see it coming."

You could feel your pulse quicken, the weight of the storyline hanging heavily on your shoulders. "And we’re doing this tonight?"

"Yep," he confirmed. "First segment. You, Jey, Rhea, and Damian all in the ring. Liv’s going to attack Rhea. You run in for the save. After the dust settles, you turn on her. Kiss Jey, reveal your loyalty, and we’re off to the races."

Your head was spinning as you tried to absorb the full scope of what was being asked of you. Glancing at Jey again, you could tell he was just as thrown by the sudden twist.

"Any questions?" Triple H asked, looking around the table.

Neither you nor Jey said a word, both of you too stunned to fully process what was about to happen. Triple H took that as a no, standing up and signaling the meeting was over.

"Good luck tonight. This is going to be big."

After the meeting, you left the room, still reeling from what had just been laid out. You made your way down the hall toward your locker room, your mind racing. A storyline shift like this had the potential to be game-changing, but it also came with its fair share of risks. You couldn’t help but worry about how this would play out not just on screen, but backstage as well.

Once you reached your locker room, you set your bag down and took a deep breath, trying to shake off the nerves. The wardrobe team soon arrived, handing you the shirts you’d need for the segment—Rhea’s signature shirt for the first part of the show, and Jey’s to wear underneath for the big reveal.

“Don’t worry, it’ll look great on camera,” one of the wardrobe assistants assured you, sensing your unease.

You nodded, managing a weak smile as you slipped into the outfit. You kept your black jeans and shoes on, not needing full gear for this segment, but the weight of the two shirts felt heavier than any ring attire you’d ever worn.

The plan was simple enough: you’d run out to help Rhea after Liv blindsided her, and the four of you would stand tall in the ring together—until you turned on Rhea in front of everyone. The kiss with Jey, the shirt reveal—it was all designed to shock the crowd and push the storyline into new, dramatic territory.

But as you stared at yourself in the mirror, wearing Rhea’s shirt over Jey’s, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling gnawing at you. This storyline was about to blur the lines between reality and fiction in ways you hadn’t expected, and you couldn’t help but wonder how it would affect your relationships off-screen.

Glancing in the mirror one last time, you exhale sharply and leave your locker room, your thoughts racing as you head down the corridor in search of Damian. You need to find him before the segment starts, to explain the last-minute storyline twist.

You weave through backstage, checking every corner, but he’s nowhere to be found. Frustration builds as you text and call him, but every attempt goes unanswered. The minutes seem to slip through your fingers. The show’s about to start, and the clock is ticking.

From your spot near the monitor backstage, you watch as Dominik and Liv make their entrance, smug looks plastered on their faces. The crowd greets them with a mix of boos and jeers. They take the ring and start cutting their promo, Liv with a mic in hand, mocking Rhea and Damian.

“Rhea Ripley? Damian Priest? Pathetic. Honestly, it's embarrassing how they think they can stand up to us,” Liv sneers, pacing the ring as Dominik smirks at her words. "At the next Premium Live Event, they’ll finally be put in their place, and we’ll prove once again that we run this show."

The crowd stirs, boos growing louder as Liv continues to berate your friends. You glance toward the Gorilla, just in time to see Damian and Rhea poised to make their entrance. Your heart races as you watch them, knowing the storm that's about to hit.

“Hey, I need to talk to you,” you start, grabbing his arm gently.

Damian turns, raising an eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Before you can answer, the producer barks, “Rhea, Damian you’re on, go!”

You watch helplessly as Damian and Rhea stride through the curtain, completely unaware of the bombshell you’re about to drop on them. Your stomach tightens as you realize you won’t have time to warn him before the kiss happens.

“Great,” you mutter to yourself, running a hand through your hair. Damian’s not going to take this well—especially not without a heads-up.

Rhea and Damian hit the stage to a wave of cheers from the crowd. As they walk down the ramp, Rhea has a fierce expression on her face, playing up the intensity of the moment, while Damian’s presence is brooding and confident. You can feel the electricity building in the air as they enter the ring.

“You two think you’re untouchable?” Rhea growls into the mic, glaring at Dominik and Liv. “You’ve got another thing coming. At the PLE, we’ll show you exactly why you should’ve never turned your backs on us.”

Damian steps forward, his eyes locked on Dominik. “Scared little kids playing in a grown-up’s world. You don’t even know what’s coming.”

Predictably, the promo escalates into chaos. Liv and Dominik waste no time in turning the verbal sparring into a full-blown brawl. Liv throws the first punch at Rhea, and before you know it, fists are flying. Just as planned, JD, Finn,  and Carlito emerge from the crowd to join the fray, jumping into the ring and overwhelming Damian and Rhea.

It’s only a matter of seconds before Jey’s music hits, and the crowd erupts. You spot Jey sprinting down the aisle from somewhere in the audience, slipping into the ring to even the odds. The chaos in the ring intensifies as the three of them—Rhea, Damian, Jey —try to gain control of the situation.

Then, your music blares through the arena, sending a surge of adrenaline through you. The producer waves you toward the curtain, and before you know it, you're sprinting down the ramp. Your heart pounds in your chest as you slide into the ring, jumping straight into the fight.

For what feels like a chaotic blur of moments, fists are flying, bodies are colliding, and the crowd is on fire. You and your thrown-together team manage to push back the new Judgement Day faction, sending them retreating up the ramp as the crowd roars in approval.

Just as you, Jey, Damian, and Rhea stand tall in the ring, victorious for now, you feel the cue from the cameraman at ringside. This is it. The moment you’ve been dreading all night.

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. Jey is standing just to your left, his breathing still heavy from the fight. You turn toward him, heart hammering in your chest. The crowd is still roaring, but in this moment, everything seems to slow down.

You step closer to Jey, reaching up to cup his face in your hands. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, there’s a flash of understanding between the two of you—this is about to change everything. Without hesitating, you lean in and press your lips to his.

The reaction from the crowd is instantaneous. Gasps, cheers, and shouts fill the arena as Jey’s hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss lingers for a moment longer than normal, the way Triple H had scripted it to be, the tension between you and Jey was palpable. Neither of you was fully comfortable. When you finally pull back, the heat of the moment is still coursing through you.

You glance over at Rhea and Damian. Rhea, ever the professional, has perfected her expression of betrayal—her wide eyes and clenched fists sell the shock and hurt brilliantly. It’s almost too perfect, and for a moment, you’re grateful that she’s been fully briefed on the angle.

But Damian... Damian is a different story. He’s not acting. His jaw is tight, his eyes narrowed, and the look he’s giving you and Jey could burn a hole straight through the ring. If looks could kill, you and Jey would both be six feet under by now.

Your stomach drops as you realize the fallout from this moment is going to be far more intense than you ever anticipated.

The segment ends with a chaotic blend of cheers and murmurs as the crowd begins to dissipate. As the ring clears, you and Jey make your way out, the adrenaline still pumping through your veins. You’re grateful for the moment of quiet, but the heaviness of what just happened weighs on you.

You navigate backstage, Jey’s presence beside you a comforting constant. The backstage activity fades as you spot Rhea, who is headed toward the locker room. She gives you a quick, sympathetic nod before disappearing behind the door. You hope she understands how hard this is for you, despite her well-played betrayal.

Your gaze scans the area, searching for Damian. Your stomach twists in knots as you think about the confrontation you need to have. The minutes tick by slowly, each one stretching into what feels like an eternity.

Finally, you spot Damian walking down the hall, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable. Your heart races as you call out his name, “Damian!”

He doesn’t turn, his steps steady and deliberate. You quicken your pace, desperation mounting with each step. You reach out and touch his arm gently, trying to catch his attention.

“Babe, please—”

He jerks his arm away from you, his face still averted. “Don’t.”

The single word cuts through you like a knife. It’s sharp and final, the hurt and anger in his voice unmistakable. He continues down the hall, not sparing a glance back, leaving you standing there, heart heavy and eyes stinging.

You watch him disappear around the corner, the space between you feeling impossibly vast. The crushing weight of the night’s events settles on your shoulders, and you feel a wave of sadness that’s almost unbearable.

Jey, noticing your distress, approaches cautiously. “Hey, are you okay?”

You can’t find the words, only shaking your head slightly. Jey’s hand rests on your shoulder, a silent offer of comfort, but it does little to alleviate the ache inside you. You turn back toward the locker room, trying to steady your breath as you prepare for the fallout to come.

Back in the locker room, you sit down heavily on a bench, the adrenaline of the night giving way to a wave of exhaustion and emotional turmoil. The door opens and Rhea steps in, her face a mix of concern and understanding.

“I tried to talk to him,” Rhea says quietly, sitting beside you. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to hear it.”

You nod, unable to speak as your emotions bubble up. Rhea reaches out, placing a comforting hand on your back. “You did what you had to do out there. I know it’s hard.”

You take a shaky breath, trying to hold back tears. “I didn’t want it to end like this. I just wanted... I wanted to be honest with him. I tried to find him before the show–”

Rhea gives you a sympathetic smile. “He just wasn’t expecting it. I was briefed on the segment, but I don’t think he was. It’ll take time, but he’ll come around.”

You hope she’s right, but the uncertainty gnaws at you. As you sit there, surrounded by the remnants of the evening’s chaos, you can’t shake the feeling that tonight’s actions have set in motion a chain of events that may be impossible to fully unravel.

With a heavy heart, you prepare yourself for the long night ahead, hoping that somehow, things might start to heal before it’s too late.

Once you get back to the hotel after the show, you make your way up to your room on the fourth floor. The hallway feels impossibly long.. The dull hum of the elevator ride lingers in your ears, and your mind races, replaying every moment of the night over and over again. The kiss. Damian’s cold departure. His refusal to even look at you.

You reach your door, fingers trembling as you pull the keycard from your pocket. You hesitate for a moment, the thought of Damian not being there gnawing at you. The two of you were supposed to share this room, but after the way he walked away, you wouldn’t be surprised if he’d found a different room—putting even more distance between you.

But still, hope lingers as you slide the keycard into the lock. You take a deep breath as the door clicks open. Stepping into the dimly lit room, you brace yourself for an empty, quiet space, but instead, your breath catches in your throat.

Damian is there. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together. His head is bowed slightly, and the shadows from the dim light cast across his face, making it hard to read his expression. But you can feel the tension radiating from him—tangible and heavy in the air.

The door clicks shut behind you, and Damian’s eyes flick up to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you speaks. His jaw is clenched tight, his lips pressed into a thin line. The silence stretches between you, thick with unresolved emotions.

You take a tentative step forward, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on your chest. "Damian…"

He doesn't move. His gaze remains locked on yours, but there’s a storm brewing behind those dark eyes, a mix of hurt and anger swirling beneath the surface.

“Why?” His voice is low, barely above a whisper, but the pain in that single word cuts deeper than anything he could have yelled.

You swallow hard, your throat tight as you search for the right words. “I didn’t want it to go down like that. It was the storyline—creative made the call.”

Damian’s lips twitch into a bitter, almost mocking smile as he finally stands, towering over you. “You think I care about the storyline? About what creative wants?” His voice rises slightly, the frustration bleeding through. “I care about what you did out there—kissing him in front of everyone. In front of me.”

You take a step back, feeling the weight of his words, and the hurt they carry. “It was just for the show, Damian. It didn’t mean anything.”

He runs a hand through his hair, his movements sharp, and agitated. “Didn’t mean anything?” He shakes his head, disbelief flashing in his eyes. “You expect me to believe that after what I saw out there? After how you kissed him?”

Your heart aches at the accusation in his voice. “Damian, I—” You stop, unsure of how to explain, how to make him understand that the kiss, while real, wasn’t what he thought it was.

He takes a deep breath, his anger simmering beneath the surface. "You could’ve told me. You should’ve told me before the show, before I had to stand there and watch it happen.”

"I tried," you plead, your voice breaking. "I tried to tell you, but you had to go out for the segment before I could. I didn’t want to hurt you."

Damian lets out a bitter laugh. “Well, you did.”

The air between you feels like it’s thickening, the tension palpable as Damian turns away from you, pacing the room. You stand frozen, unsure of what to say, how to fix this. The weight of the night crashes down on you, and for the first time, you wonder if this is something that can even be fixed.

“Damian,” you whisper, taking a cautious step toward him, “I’m sorry. Please, just talk to me.”

He stops in his tracks, his back still turned to you. For a moment, he doesn’t move, the silence deafening. Then, slowly, he turns around, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice is quiet now, the anger simmering down into something deeper—something raw. “That everything’s fine? That I’m not furious? That I don’t feel like you broke something between us tonight?”

You feel your heart shatter at his words, the weight of them too much to bear. “I didn’t want to break anything,” you say softly, tears welling up in your eyes. “I just… I didn’t know how to make this right.”

Damian’s shoulders slump slightly as if the fight has drained out of him. He stares at you for a long moment, his expression a mixture of hurt and exhaustion. “Maybe you can’t,” he murmurs, his voice barely audible.

Damian sits back down on the bed, his frustration and confusion still thick in the air between you. His jaw clenches as he runs a hand over his face, trying to make sense of everything that happened during the show. 

You take a cautious step toward him, heart pounding in your chest. You don’t say anything, but the unspoken tension between you crackles with intensity. Gently, you place your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back just enough that he leans onto his elbows. He looks up at you with a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, his dark eyes searching yours for some kind of explanation, some kind of reason for your actions.

But instead of talking, you swing a leg over him, straddling his lap. You feel the tension ripple through his body the moment you make contact, his muscles tightening beneath you. He knows what you’re doing, and for a second, you can see the conflict flash across his face. 

His hands instinctively come up to your waist, as if to push you away, but he hesitates. “Stop,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, but there’s no real force behind the word. You can tell he’s trying to maintain control, to hold onto the anger that’s keeping him grounded, but you also know that you’re chipping away at his resolve.

Ignoring his half-hearted protest, you lean in close, your lips brushing the shell of his ear as you whisper, “I want you to show me who I belong to.”

You feel the shudder that runs through him at your words, and a low groan rumbles from his chest. His eyes close for a brief moment as the temptation washes over him, the possessive side of him that you know so well stirring just beneath the surface. But still, he’s fighting it, trying to hold onto the anger that’s been keeping him distant.

He tightens his grip on your waist, trying to lift you off his lap, but before he can, you roll your hips down against him. The motion elicits another involuntary groan from him, his breath catching in his throat as you grind against him, making it clear what you want. His eyes snap open, dark and filled with both desire and frustration.

“Don’t,” he warns, but his voice falters, betraying the struggle within him.

You lean in closer, your breath hot against his ear as you whisper the words you know will push him over the edge. “I want you to have your way with me.”

His grip on your waist tightens as he inhales sharply, the possessive part of him rising to the surface. But there’s still a sliver of hesitation in his movements, as if he’s trying to keep a hold on his self-control, to resist the pull of the temptation you’re offering him. 

You know he’s torn between wanting to claim you and still being angry about what happened tonight. And then, you say the one thing that you know will break him.

“I want you to leave marks.”

The tension in his body shifts instantly. His eyes darken, and the possessiveness that’s always been just beneath the surface finally takes over. You’ve never let him leave marks on you before, always worried about appearances and what people might think if the cameras were to catch any during a match or promo. But now, you’re giving him permission, and that’s something Damian can’t ignore.

He exhales slowly, his hands still gripping your waist, but there’s a new intensity in his touch now. The anger may not be completely gone, but it’s morphed into something else—something darker, more primal. You feel the shift, and it sends a thrill through you.

“Are you sure about this?” His voice is deeper now, rougher, and you can feel the weight of the moment pressing down on you. This is a line you’re both about to cross, one that will blur the boundary between control and release.

You nod, your gaze steady as you meet his eyes. “I’m sure. I want you to.”

Damian’s expression hardens for a split second, the last shred of restraint slipping away. In one swift motion, he flips you over, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His hands roam up your body, and you feel the heat radiating off him as he leans down, his lips brushing against your neck.

“You asked for it,” he murmurs darkly. 

Damian wastes no time once he’s unleashed. His hands move with purpose as he grips the waistband of your jeans, tugging them down along with your underwear in one swift, practiced motion. You lift your hips to help, and before you know it, your legs are bare beneath his gaze. He tosses your clothes aside, his eyes dark and unreadable as they trace the lines of your body.

You feel his hands slide down your thighs, rough and warm, before he spreads your legs apart. The vulnerability of the position sends a thrill up your spine, but it’s the look in Damian’s eyes—the possessive hunger—that makes your heart race. 

He leans down, his lips ghosting over your inner thigh. The anticipation of his touch is almost unbearable, and then you feel it—his teeth sink into your skin, not too hard, but enough to leave a mark that will last. The sensation sends a shiver through you, a low moan escaping your lips.

Damian pauses to admire his work, the dark bruise forming under his lips. Then, without missing a beat, he shifts to the other leg, repeating the same rough treatment. His lips press against your thigh before his teeth follow, leaving another mark that will be a reminder of this moment long after tonight.

Once he’s satisfied, he crawls up your body, his hands pressing into the mattress on either side of you. His face hovers inches above yours, his breath warm and heavy against your skin. 

You’re still wearing Jey Uso's "Yeet" shirt, and as Damian glances down at it, a dark smirk curls his lips. You expect him to pull it off, to strip it from you in one fluid motion, but instead, Damian grips the fabric in both hands and rips it clean down the middle. The sound of the tear fills the room, and your breath catches as the cool air brushes against your newly exposed skin.

“Oops,” he mutters with a smirk, the smugness in his voice sending a wave of heat through you. His hands run down your sides, the pads of his fingers grazing the sensitive skin just beneath your ribs, making you arch up into him. The intensity of his touch, combined with the sharp contrast between his anger and desire, has your mind spinning.

His hands slide around your back, and with one swift motion, he unclasps your bra, pulling it away. Before you can react, Damian leans in, his mouth finding the soft skin of your breast. His lips are soft at first, but then you feel his teeth again, biting down just hard enough to leave a dark bruise behind.

A gasp leaves your throat as Damian continues, alternating between soft kisses and rough bites. He takes his time, marking you as his, leaving evidence of his claim all over your skin. Each mark feels like a promise, one that will stay with you long after the night is over.

You feel the heat rising between you, the desire building to a breaking point. Damian pulls back for a moment, his breath coming fast, his eyes locking with yours. There’s no more hesitation in his gaze now—only pure, possessive hunger.

"You belong to me," he growls, his voice deep and commanding as he captures your lips in a rough, bruising kiss.

Damian’s eyes remain locked on yours as he leans up and swiftly pulls his belt free from the loops of his jeans. The metal buckle clinks against the floor as he drops it carelessly, his fingers already working to unbutton and unzip his pants. He pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees, his movements rough and hurried, his need for you palpable in the tension rolling off his body.

You bite your lip in anticipation as Damian positions himself between your legs, the heat of him pressing against your entrance. His large hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, and then with one smooth motion, he slides into you. The sensation of him filling you so completely draws a long moan from your lips, but Damian isn’t satisfied.

“No,” he growls, his voice deep and commanding. “Say my name.”

His thrusts start slow but powerful, each one driving him deeper into you. You comply immediately, moaning his name breathlessly. “Damian…”

But it’s not enough. His grip tightens on your hips, and he begins to move faster, harder, his pace becoming relentless. He’s hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur, and your breath quickens as pleasure coils tight in your core.

“Say it louder,” Damian demands, his voice edged with authority. His hips snap against yours, the sound of skin against skin filling the room. You call out his name louder, your voice trembling with the intensity of each thrust.

“Damian!” you cry, your hands grasping at the sheets as your body arches beneath him.

A dark smirk crosses his face as he watches you, clearly satisfied with your response. “That’s my good girl,” he growls, his tone dripping with approval. His words send a fresh wave of heat through you, making your body tremble beneath him.

He continues to pound into you, his pace ruthless, every thrust driving you closer to the edge. Your moans become more desperate, and you can feel yourself unraveling, your climax approaching fast.

“I want to hear you scream my name when you come,” Damian demands, his voice husky and low, his possessive gaze locked on you as his hips slam into yours again and again.

The tension inside you snaps, and with one final thrust, you’re sent over the edge. You scream his name, your body trembling as your orgasm crashes through you, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through every nerve.

Damian isn’t far behind. He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. His grip tightens on your hips, holding you still as he pulls out just in time. He finishes on your chest and abdomen, his warm seed painting your skin as he releases a deep, satisfied groan.

Breathing heavily, Damian looks down at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly as a proud, almost smug smile spreads across his face. He surveys your body, covered in his release, marking you in yet another way.

“That’s my girl,” he murmurs, his voice soft now, but the possessive edge still lingers. He leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your lips, a stark contrast to the roughness of the moments before.

As Damian catches his breath, his eyes soften as they sweep over your body, the intensity of moments before melting away. Without a word, he leans over and presses a tender kiss to your forehead before standing and making his way into the bathroom. The sound of running water fills the room, and a few moments later, he returns with a warm washcloth in hand.

He kneels beside the bed and gently wipes the cum from your chest and stomach, his touch so tender it makes your heart swell. His gaze meets yours as he leans down and brushes a soft kiss to your lips, so different from the fiery passion you shared earlier. This kiss is slow, comforting, filled with unspoken reassurances.

Once finished, Damian returns to the bathroom to dispose of the washcloth, and when he comes back, he heads straight for his suitcase. Rummaging through it, he pulls out a pair of sweatpants for himself. After slipping them on, he tosses one of his oversized t-shirts to you. You smile, feeling a warmth in your chest, and eagerly slip it on. The familiar scent of him fills your senses as the soft fabric drapes over your body.

Damian climbs into bed beside you and immediately pulls you into his arms, his strong body enveloping yours. You nestle into him, resting your head on his bare chest. The rhythmic sound of his heartbeat under your ear brings you a sense of calm, and you let out a soft sigh of relief, feeling safe in his embrace.

After a few quiet moments, you tilt your head up to look at him, your voice barely a whisper as you ask, "Are we okay?"

Damian looks down at you, his thumb gently stroking your arm as he meets your gaze. 

"Yeah," he says softly, his voice deep but tender. "We’re okay." He takes a breath, his expression softening further. "I probably could’ve handled it better. I just… seeing that kiss…" He trails off, shaking his head slightly. "I know it’s just a storyline, but it hit me harder than I expected."

You nod, understanding the conflict he must have felt. 

Before the tension can return, Damian gives you a playful smirk and gently nudges your side. "But let’s be real… you look way better in my shirt than Jey’s."

A small laugh escapes your lips, and the playful banter instantly lightens the mood. You snuggle deeper into his chest, feeling the weight of the night slowly lift as you share this intimate moment with him. His arms tighten around you protectively, and you close your eyes, knowing that despite the challenges, everything between you two will be alright.

[goxjo]

If you receive this, you make somebody happy! Go on anon (or not) and send this to ten of your followers who make you happy or somebody you think needs cheering up. If you get one back, even better! 🩷🩷🩷

SAM !!!!! Pretty diabolical (ily) of you to include my husbands here ;-; this is me sending this message back ‘n signing off with hot pink lipstick kisses !!!! 🩷🩷🩷

[yeonban]

Logged in JUST to say I miss Nikolai and then log back out for my exam prep

[srjlvr]

hi babess defo add me to ur tag list i love ur works so much and for the emoji pls 💐 bc i like using that emoji all the fkn timee its like giving flowers idk i love it

HI BAE OMG!!🫶🏻🫶🏻 thank you so much omg this is making me so emotional 🥹🥹 I LOVE THE FLOWERS EMOJI TOO WE’RE TWINNING✋🏻✋🏻

[daycourtofficial]

Ferocious beasts with soft bellies

Pairing: Eris x Rhys’s sister!reader | WC: 2.5k | warnings: mentions of pregnancy, some violence from dogs

Summary: Eris’s hounds know you’re pregnant before either of you do, driving the two of you wild with their newfound devotion to you.

Author’s note: hi everyone!!! Thanks for joining me this week, I hope you had a great time!! This one ends on a note I didn’t expect it to, but I do have plans to write follow-ups I kinda wanted to break this up into two. Also this is part of my gingerfucker series, but can be read as a standalone okay love ya bye 😘

Eris’s hounds were incredibly well-trained. He spent thousands of hours when they were pups instilling in them commands, tracking and hunting skills, and alerting him to intruders on the property.

At least, they used to be well-trained.

These days Clover, the leader of the pack, would not allow you out of her sight. All twelve hounds wandered through your house as they pleased, often keeping you company in Eris’s absence. They would lounge about, finding warm sunny spots throughout the house to take afternoon naps in. You’d usually have one or two lazily trail you around the house, staying in the beds you had placed in several of the rooms.

Lately their attachment and sudden devotion to you was getting out of hand. Clover was practically sewn into your side the way she followed you around - she hardly let you out of her sight, keeping an eye on you at all times, following you as you moved through the house. She was even beginning to ignore Eris’s commands, opting to stay at your feet, following you around the house, or with her head curled on your lap.

When you and Eris publicly began your mateship, you had begged him to allow the dogs into your shared bed. “Just one,” you had pouted, “I don’t like waking alone.”

Despite his grumbling, Eris had obliged your request. Things with your family were still quite rough - it had been almost a year by now since you left the Night Court, being unceremoniously abdicated from the throne. You had been in contact with most of your family by this point except for Rhysand, who was still refusing to speak with you since he forced you out of ‘his court’, as he had called it.

Despite your best efforts, Eris still felt guilty over it, the rift in your family caused by the discovery of your mateship. You usually tried to soothe him, not wanting him to feel guilt over the decisions you made. You would choose him over and over again, and problems with Rhysand or any member of your family were not going to stop that from continuing. Besides, his guilt would be better suited as ire towards Rhysand.

Sometimes you did use his guilt to get what you want.

Which is why it initially did take Clover much coaxing to jump into the bed at all, a notion she thought ridiculous at first, but once her paws melted into the mattress, she was quick to lay directly on your side of the bed, placing her head atop your pillow.

“Traitor,” Eris had muttered as you cuddled up to her, petting her soft head.

After getting her into the bed, Clover spent most nights curled up at your feet or by your side, your nights often spent squished between her long body and Eris’s. Soon enough, you were back to asking Eris for another one to sleep in your bed.

“So Clover doesn’t get lonely.”

He spent ages debating with you that no, she doesn’t need a companion in bed with her. It was ridiculous. The three of you were enough for one bed, and he hated to think of how a second hound would complicate things.

He didn’t want to admit it, but he did quite enjoy it when he’d throw an arm around you in the middle of the night and his fingers would meet Clover’s soft fur from the other side of you.

It also soothed some minor worry in him to have you protected from all sides, despite your being more than capable of defending yourself. The mating bond was a precious gift, but it was also a minor curse with the way it coursed through his veins, needing to protect you, to keep you safe, and to keep you both satiated.

“Er, our bed’s plenty big enough for more hounds.”

“Yes, but they’ll get too spoiled. You’ve already turned Clover rotten.”

“I have done no such thing,” you cross your arms, trying to look utterly appalled at his accusation. He gives you a pointed look, then turns his gaze behind you.

Your gaze turned to the hound seated behind you, her long limbs spread across your bed, her little leg kicks and soft snores bringing a small chuckle to your lips that you quickly turned into a scoff.

“That proves nothing.”

In the several months since allowing Clover and Cinnamon in your bed, they were still obedient. They left the bed without disturbing you in the mornings, they rotated who laid next to you and who slept at the foot of the bed, and they would never go to bed without either you or Eris prompting them to.

That all stopped a few weeks ago.

Eris’s hounds had always been fond of you - Eris had spoken of them for centuries before you were able to see any of them. The way he had spoken of them had helped you see he was capable of caring about something that wasn’t himself.

That was its own revelation.

Meeting the hounds was quite nerve-wracking for you - he told you they were quite cold to new fae, and they had detested Lucien’s overeagerness to befriend them - a grudge they still held many centuries later.

“I believe they smelled the desperation leaking from his pores, tainted their perception of him,” he quipped.

Despite Eris’ warnings, you were not prepared for them to warm up to you as much as they had. He brought out his most trusted hound, Clover, to meet you, and you’re not sure if it was the way Eris’ scent was forever entwined with your own, but she warmed to you immediately. She circled your legs before sitting directly next to you, placing her head beneath your hand.

“What does this mean?” you whisper to Eris, not wanting to scare her or set her off.

“She wants you to pet her.”

Your confused expression makes his eyes dance with amusement.

“Surely you understand that means to stroke her head.” He raises his hand in demonstration, petting the air with a bemused look on his face.

You huff, “she could bite me, I apologize for wanting to wait a moment before touching a creature you’ve told me is dangerous.”

“She is dangerous, but surely she’s capable of being more than one thing.”

Nowadays she was capable of such a feat - she was not only beloved by you, but she was also a constant thorn in your side.

It started with subtle things, conversations with Eris where you tried to express how odd they were behaving one night while you sat in Eris’ study, helping him sort through correspondence from his brothers about the lands they oversee.

“Clover followed me into the bathroom.”

“Perhaps I should put some cushions for her to lay down while you bathe. I’m fond of the sight, perhaps she is too.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m serious, Er. She’s behaving strangely.”

Eris set the letter from Moros down, his attention fixed on you. “You spoil her, she is merely being affectionate. You’ll get used to it.”

Eris was wrong, Clover’s behavior only getting worse as the days went on.

“Clover, stay.”

Clover’s brown eyes observed you, your finger pointing toward the floor indicating for her to stay, tone full of finality - a princess’s tone, a high lady’s tone. You were determined to get the hound to listen to you, commanding her to stay in your chambers.

You passed through the door, heading down to speak with one of your advisor’s who insisted he speak with you as soon as possible. You rolled your eyes just thinking about his current issue with one of the trade routes that flows into Spring and how last time he wanted to speak to you, you enjoyed watching the vein on his forehead throb at your reluctance to take his ill advice.

Perhaps during this meeting the vein will pop, at least then the meeting would come with entertainment.

You look down and are startled when you see Clover’s body in step with yours, her fur shimmering in the light as if she were smoke rising from the ground.

Cauldron boil me, Eris is going to kill me if I’ve ruined all of their training.

You stop, pointing in the opposite direction, whispering, “go, shoo Clover.” You don’t even want to consider how she got through the closed door.

Clover just sits in front of you, her gaze piercing, seeing something you can’t. You blow out a breath, hands running through your hair, “okay, you may come with me.”

You’d regret those words.

Clover strode into the room before you, sniffing the air as her nails clacked across the floor. Her focus shifted to the male in the room, Flint’s eyes narrowing at her. She moved her body closer to the floor as she stalked towards him, the hair along her spine raising into the shape of a fin. Her ears were pulled back, a low rumble emitting from her chest.

“Clover!”

Your voice is chastising, but Clover does not let her guard down as she slowly approaches Flint. His eyes are full of fear as she approaches, her feet circling him. He spins in a circle, not letting her eyes leave his.

“Clover!”

You whistle her stop command, but she ignores it. She circled Flint the way she circles mice and rabbits.

She always loved playing with her food.

“What is this? Control your hound.” Flint’s voice is annoyed as Clover raises her head, baring her teeth at him.

“I’m trying.”

You move forward, reaching to grab Clover’s neck, instead missing and falling forward towards Flint. His arms catch your forearms, but Clover was not a fan of his touch and her teeth swiftly sank into the leg of his trousers. Her grip was strong as she tugged at his pants, and he began stammering, shaking his leg trying to rid his pants of her. He backed away toward the door, and once he reached the threshold, Clover let go of her grip, almost causing the male to fall over.

Her growls echoed down the hall as she watched him run down the hall before scampering back towards you, confusion and shock on your face at all that just transpired.

The hound just licked your face gently before laying next to you, her head in your lap.

You sighed, certain that Eris would kill you for ruining Clover.

Later that night, Eris made hisbway to your shared chambers, a bit surprised to find you already asleep. The hour wasn’t too late, however he had caught you dozing while reading over some requests regarding equipment for some farms.

He stripped his clothes, the finery being replaced by some loose trousers before moving towards the bed to find that the hounds had placed themselves on either side of you, Cinnamon occupying his spot on the bed.

“Cinnamon, down.”

The brown hound does not listen to the command, the only response a long sigh of her breath. He stared at the hound - a seventy year old beast who was one of the easiest hounds he’d ever trained, knowing how he expected her to behave from an incredibly young age.

Cinnamon was no Clover, but she was second in their chain of command. Clover was on your other side, soft snores coming from her snout.

There was plenty of room in the bed for the two of you, the two hounds, and, truthfully, several more hounds. Your preference for larger beds from when you had your wings never left after you lost them.

Eris laid in the bed, determined he could outmaneuver his hounds. He moved a hand out to your face, stroking your hair before a soft growl cut him off.

His hand stilled, eyes wide at such a response from Cinnamon. His nostrils begin flaring, heat rising to the surface of his skin in anger. He could feel the roar of the bond in his ears, frustration boiling within him at the defiance and aggression at him touching his own mate.

He tried to swallow it down, refusing to erupt in his own bed while you slept peacefully next to him. His fuse was a short one, his temper always loosely held back by a quick tongue that allowed him to loosen the reins ever so slightly.

He watched them, their bodies curled around your own and thought about your complaints of them following you around, believing it to be a consequence of your softness towards them.

You were spoiling them rotten. You were a few weeks away from giving them table scraps, for Mother’s sake. But then his thoughts veered into Flint’s description of what occurred, Clover guarding you from Flint’s touch like a mother hen-

His heart stalls in his chest, a heavy realization settling over him as he sits up, Sierra growling softly at his abrupt movements.

You were pregnant. You had to be - it was the only logical conclusion other than all twelve of his hounds losing their minds simultaneously. They must be able to scent it on you before fae senses could pick them up.

He wonders briefly if Lucien’s magical eye could see it.

Eris lay frozen on the bed, his thoughts swirling with what to do, how he was going to handle this. He was still quite new to his tenure as high lord - the work wasn’t unexpected by any means, however his position was still quite vulnerable - new power always attracted violence attempting to see how far that power extended.

Things were still difficult in your personal lives - he and Lucien were on tenuous speaking terms, you and Rhysand were not on speaking terms. The two of you hadn’t spoken in almost a year.

It was all so damn complicated - you hadn’t had a coronation as high lady yet, wanting to wait until Rhysand would show up to have the ceremony. The logistics of a babe at such a crucial turning point politically could open Eris up to glaring vulnerabilities.

Long fingers tap at his chest, trying to keep himself somewhat grounded in reality. He had no confirmation for this - his reasoning behind such a theory were founded on the strange behavior of his hounds. He was being a ridiculous fool to get so worked up over unconfirmed theories.

Yet the image of a swaddled little thing kept gnawing at his mind - tiny toes, a tiny nose, tiny fingers wrapping around his. He had adored his brothers when they were much younger, when the world under Beron could be disguised as a good place. Perhaps he could do it.

Eris laid awake for several hours, your soft breathing calming him as he sat and thought about all the possible ways he could ruin all of this.

A tiny part of him let himself hope that, in spite of it all, he wouldn’t.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Eris taglist: @secret-third-thing

Thanks for reading 💕

[writersdrug]

Training for Two

Chapter 2. Rules

Masterlist

Summary: Simon lays the ground rules and shows you around the house.

Warnings: Simon's email etiquette, very mild cursing, beginnings of obsessive behavior.

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

Next ->

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae

[pretty-sparkle-bomb]

What the MHA boys might do for your birthday. This one was extra special and took some time so I hope yall liked it <3

Bakugo Katsuki

I think he'd be the type of guy to give you hot kisses at random times of the day. You could be doing anything, talking to anybody and this explosive hot-head would march right up to you and tug on your hand like a child. "C'mon, let's go."

"Suki, wait-!"

He wants the whole world to know that yall are together. I take him as the needy type, the type who'd place butterfly kisses on your neck and shoulders when he pulls you into a random classroom or storage room or behind one of the bleachers.

Huge bouquet of roses with tiny little gifts tucked in between along with a box of your favourite treat and a special little note he wrote himself. You're interrupted in the middle of class by a delivery man who mumbles something about the instructions being ridiculously specific.

In the afternoon, he'll take you to the park and pull out an intricate pair of silver promise rings. "G'nna be a great hero, dollface. 'Cause I can feel it."

Midoriya Izuku

I imagine Izuku as the most giving person so him giving you something like an exclusive All Might plushie that he spent months saving for would be an understatement. He just loves you too much.

He caught you ogling a cute pair of leg warmers the other day when you guys were walking home so of course he got a pair for you.

Lots of handholding that he actually initiates. Whispers of sweet praises in your ears that just corrupt your thoughts. Does he even know what he's doing to you?

"You're so cute, y'know that?" And there you are blushin' so hard, Mina thinks he said something dirty.

Him walking you home and giving you a long hug in front of your door just so he can have a whiff of that shampoo you use. He made a mental note to drop by with a new one and some more shower things you like before the night was out.

Kirishima Eijiro

He stays up until 12 just so that he can photo-dump you across all of his social media platforms. He'll send you a long text paragraph (that took him days to type) with all of the things he loves about you.

Gives you roses and a huge gift bag filled with all of your favourite skin care products and lipglosses. His wallet is crying but nothing compares to the smile you have on your face. You'll make sure to thank him properly afterwards anyways.

Offers to walk you home that afternoon. He's helping you carry all of the gifts you got and you're telling him all about your day, and he doesn't miss the way your eyes light up when you reach a specific topic. You're just the sweetest thing.

Todoroki Shoto

Shows up at your house in the morning with a limo all fancy in your favourite colour and he's like, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Now you feel bad. He wasted money on a limo just to take you to school.

You just know Enji's credit card is paying for all of this and Shoto seems unbothered by spending his father's money.

"Red bottoms?!" you screech, looking at the pair of heels in the box. "Do you not like it? If it's not enough, I could always-" he began, coming up behind you and wrapping a hand around your stomach to pull you closer to him.

"No. I love it but Sho, this is too much." you turn to look at him.

Heterochromatic eyes look into yours affectionately, "For you, I'd say this is a small gift."

You blush, still worried. "What will your father say?"

Shoto scoffs. "He doesn't need to know."

Sorry for any errors lovies but I hoped yall liked this one.

[mx-pastelwriting]

Kinktober Day 4: Biting

Carlisle Cullen x GN! Reader

Summary: Carlisle being to close to your neck as he cums in you.

Warnings: Smut, Biting, Blood, Vampire & Human

Kinktober Masterlist

Minors do not interact!

Gentle hands turned rough, grabbing at your hips. Cold kisses trailed up the contrast against your warm skin, stirring something in you. Pulling and squeezing as he moaned softly close to your ear, even letting rare cures slip.

Bruising your hips as his kisses stopped feeling as your high came close too, burying himself into your neck, feeling his breath and cold skin push you over the edge. Wrapping your legs tightly, feeling his hips buckle planting himself deep, both gasping out as your high peak, his lips start again on your neck, but slowly pain prickles your skin.

Whining out to the feeling, then crying out as the pain became hot, you felt liquid spill down your neck, still having his cock buried deep, thrusting slowly, letting you ride out your high. "Carlisle." You cried out, now realizing he had bitten you not to turn but to drink, grabbing at him as he once did to you.

"Stop," you cried once again hitting at his tough skin. Not drinking human blood in the hundreds of years didn't mean he couldn't, but being over the edge and smelling your sweet scent control slipped from his hands.

Doing what you asked only a second after he gasped, saying nothing only kissing your check, leaving it bloody. Your body lay exhausted and in pain, yet satisfied.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is and grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

Taglist: @arubymachado @pinchofhoney @memphiscity69 @christynalou @k3nmakyan @the1redrose

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

If you are up for it could write more Justice League x Assistant reader?

That scenario did things to me honestly, and I can't find anything similar 😭

Maybe reader calls in sick and the each JL member goes to check on them unanounced (reader never told them were they lived but of course they'd know *sideeyes batman*) which end up on all the members questioning and pointing at each other *cue spider man meme*, because why are you at my darling's- I mean our Assistant's house!

Reader kicks everyone out except the gourmet chef batman brought to cook reader some chicken soup.

A Day in Life: In Health and Sickness

Synopsis: A day in life were you, the Justice League's assistant, find out that sickness and a bunch of obsessed superheroes are just too much to bear all at once.

Pairing: Yandere!Justice League X Assistant!Gn!Reader; Platonic!Alfred Pennyworth

Tw: Nonconsensual (not sexual) touching; A single mention of obscene acts; Kinda breaking and entering; Reader gets physically restrained; Kinda forced infantilization? But not really, just humiliation; Some members of the League might be out of character bc I don't know them well enough; I was sleepy while revising and editing this so I might fix any mistakes I didn’t see later; English is not my 1st language.

Word count: 2,6k

Requested? Yes.

Extra notes: Thank you so much for your compliments and the request!! Your suggestion really gave me inspiration to write as soon as I saw it. It's not exactly what you asked for but I hope it's the same vibe and you like it!! Also I’ve seen all the requests for a part 2 of “He's My Collar”, but as stated here, I didn't answer bc I’m working on it! I just didn't have any ideas yet!

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Whatever hit you today, it sucks. Yesterday, in the afternoon, you had a mild throbbing in your head, but not exactly a headache, at night, fever hit you, alongside a cough. Medicine helped enough but today you still felt a little warm, your head hurt, your nose was somehow stuffed and leaking at the same time. You've been awake for an hour and still just couldn't get yourself to care for your basic needs like showering and eating, let alone go to work, so you called in sick. At least you would have some piece for a day.

Or that's what you thought, until you heard some tapping on your window, scaring the shit out of you, and saw Superman outside with a sympathetic smile and holding a pharmacy bag, a crate of water bottles and food.

Ugh, of course you couldn't actually have some peace.

You took a deep breath to prepare yourself and got up, walking towards you bedroom window, and tried sticking your head outside, hoping he wouldn't enter your home if you kicked him out before, but before you could do anything else, he supersped inside and suddenly was at your side, making you dizzier.

— Hey! I heard what happened. How’re you feeling? — The alien’s face showcased his concern on his furrowed brows and he took a step too close (any step in your direction taken by one of the heroes was already too close for you), extending his arm forward to place the back of his hand in your forehead. You took a step back but he didn't seem to mind.

— Uh, I'm fine. You didn't need to come here. — Superman shook his head.

— I wanted to help. Here, I brought som- — Doorbell. The hero looked in the direction the sound came from, most likely using his X-Ray vision to look through the walls and doors, and squinted his eyes. Oh boy. — You called someone? — His voice is weirdly calm, contrasting with the way he abruptly starts marching out of your room and to the door.

Earlier you thought the fast exertion of movements would be too great for you, but apparently adrenaline was on your side, enough to follow him around as if you were the visitor inside your own place.

— I didn't. — You respond flatly and holding back a groan from annoyance, since you also didn't invite him.

Superman immediately opens the door as soon as it's within his reach and what's on the other side surprises you more than when you got the job at the watchtower.

— Superman. — Batman didn't seem surprised, but he also never showed emotions other than anger. — (Y/N). This is Penny-One. — He is surely referencing the old man well dressed on his side. — He is here to take care of you. — You raise an eyebrow, almost speechless.

— T-Take care of me? — You helplessly watch them invading your residency, painfully aware there's nothing you can do. Superman crossed his arms.

— This is not necessary, I came here to do just that. — Superman’s protest unfortunately doesn't give you any hint of how this will all turn out, nor does it scare Batman and his friend away..

— You have your own responsibilities. — Batman simply states. — You should go.

Penny-One simply turns to you.

— It's a pleasure, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N), even in your condition. Master Batman talks a lot about you. — You don't know what to stay and it probably shows, since no one waits much for your reaction before Penny-One is moving towards your kitchen and Batman and Superman continue with their argument.

You just go and sit down on your couch, questioning your life decisions and escape plans, which will have to wait until this damned curse leaves your body (and your home).

Your hands raise to rub your face and maybe give you some clearance, maybe wake you up from this nightmare, but keeping your eyes closed and sitting down only remind you of your condition. You feel worse or is it just your spirits? Either way, you let your body slide down until your side rests on the couch cushions, arms hugging your own body to try to have some warmth back. When did it become so cold?

At least their voices were low, as if trying not to bother you, it's a little soothing, especially with the promise of having food. Your eyes hurt just from staying open so you don't. At some point, some type of fabric is thrown over your body and a hand combs through your hair. You are too weak to do anything.

Next time you open your eyes, it's due to disturbing noises, your head is no longer on the arm of the couch and instead is laying on someone’s bare thighs. A pair of hands is running through your locks, and a really nice smell is in the air.

Did you fall asleep?

That would explain why your head is on fucking Wonder Woman's lap and she is looking at you lovingly. Also the fabric from before is Superman's cape.

You quickly shoot up, although just as fast, four or five pairs of hands, coming from seemingly out of nowhere — startling you even more — push you back down, you don't go without struggle, and soon, all hands disappear, green lights catch your attention and you can't move your body a single inch anymore. Somehow, you ended up restrained by a green and bright cocoon, as if you were soon to be a butterfly, only your face is free. Green Lantern’s construct.

— Hey, hey, calm down, hot stuff. I know she’s scary and you would never want to be close to anyone else but me, but you still need rest. — You're turned to the ceiling against your wishes. For some reason the fact that your whole body is covered doesn't give you the comfort nor the protection it should give you, instead, it reminds you of how vulnerable you are.

Your wide and paranoid eyes try to search for anything, since your head is being held in place. You can see Wonder Woman above you, glaring at something outside your line of vision, you are still in her lap. A bit of Aquaman’s blond hair on the bottom of your vision. And Batman, towering over you and the amazon, just observing as always.

— You can release them now, Green Lantern. — It's Superman's voice.

— He is not going to. — You see Batman saying at the same time another voice speaks the same sentence, making all of them turn in the direction of the sound, somewhere you can't see, but you recognize the voice. — He thinks they're weak and incapable of making decisions. — I'm sorry, who is weak and incapable of making decisions here? — He also wants to prove he is the only one capable of protecting and taking care of (Y/N), and impress them so they will fall right into his arms, call him a hero and give him a kiss… And other obscene things. — Batman smirks. Wonder Woman and another new and deep voice loudly laugh, the masculine voice being more obnoxious. Someone scoffs indignantly.

— Okay. Get out of my fucking head or I will make you. — The Lantern's voice sounds angry and you hear hurried footsteps. They wouldn't fight right here, right?! Right beside your sick body and in the middle of your crumpled apartament… It would make such a mess…

— I wasn't inside your head. Your thoughts were too loud, it's like you are screaming in my ear.

— I will make you scream! — You hear Superman superspeeding, probably getting in between the fighting duo.

— Ha- Green Lantern, calm down. No one will make anyone do anything here.

The agonizing feeling of restriction grows.

— WHAT IS HAPPENING HERE? — You scream in a husky voice, panting right after. Everyone is silent and the next second, the construct moves you around until you're sitting up, back to the back of the couch. You are still being held and manhandled, but at least you're not in someone's lap and you can see something other than your ceiling.

Martian Manhunter is standing a few meters away from you, Superman by his side. Wonder Woman was still sitting beside you and doesn't look like getting up any time soon, Green Lantern makes his way to sit down on your other side, placing his arm around you, gladly you can't even feel it. Batman is still standing on the side of the couch, his cape covering his body. Aquaman is sitting in your armchair, his face laid on his hand, watching amused, if not a bit annoyed.

It's so weird seeing all of them, suited up, in the middle of your living room, and in plain daylight.

— We came here to nurse you back to health. — Wonder Woman speaks.

— Uhh, don't you think this is a little too much? — The heroes look at each other as if looking for the issue.

— I mean, yeah. I could do it alone, but for some reason when I got here, these freaks had already broken into your house. — Freak Lantern says, pointing an accusing finger at the other freaks in question, the trinity, Batman, Superman and Wonder Woman. — Those two came in later. — He nodded at Martian Manhunter and Aquaman, not giving them a single look, his eyes solely on you. Like everytime he insists on overly making eye contact with you, it's a bit uncanny. — Worry not, beautiful. I will kick them out for you. — Superman and Wonder Woman snort at his arrogance.

— You could go with them. I'm fine, I don't need help. I’ve been taking care of myself for years and can still do it. — You've been nice long enough, they crossed the line, they invaded your apartment, which is so unprofessional, and you need to set limits. They just look at you with pity.

— I am are aware of my neglect. — Neglect? — But it's going to be different now that we are reunited… — Uh? What is Manhunter talking about?

— Exactly. History has proven how men are unreliable and indifferent to others. I'm the only one you need, darling. — Wonder Woman caresses your face. — I don't even know what they think they are doing here…

— What are you doing here, princess? Don't you have mommy issues to fix or a guy named Steve Trevor to talk to? — The amazon furrowed her eyebrows and glared at the one sitting on your other side.

— Don't listen to him, (Y/N). I left Steve a long time ago, when I met you. — Girl, why? Go back to your man! Leave me alone! — What about Aquaman? Doesn't he have a kingdom to rule? — The man in question dismissed her answer with a hand movement.

— I’m protecting Atlantis’s future by making sure none of you get any ideas and (Y/N) survives their illness. — Batman shook his head.

— I’ve already made sure they're taken care of. You shouldn't be here. There's more important matters for us out there.

— Then why aren't you there?

Their battle of egos is just too fast for your slowed down brain to process and try to formulate any form of strategy. Before their banter gets worse, the older man from before reappears.

— Your soup is ready, Miss/Master/Mx (Y/N). — Penny-One seems unbothered by the commotion around you, walking in with the source of the heavenly smell. Your mouth waters.

— Let me do it, Penny-One. — Wonder Woman gently offers and takes the bowl from him, along with the spoon. The Justice League makes sounds of disgust when they start watching her spoon feeding you (they wanted to be in her place).

You groan, complain, try to wiggle out of the construct but nothing works, especially with your fatigued and sick state. If you weren't claustrophobic before you might be from now on. You are clearly uncomfortable and practically begging to get out but for some reason they just won't listen. It gets to the point where as soon as you finish your soup — after realizing, again, that with those people it's just easier to surrender —, and take your medicine, Green Lantern’s temper apparently gets done with your whining and resistance, and he simply makes another construct. Now you have a pacifier in your mouth. It's your limit.

They start fighting again because some of them find it degrading, some like to hear your voice even if they know how close to cussing them out you are, and some think it's cute and prefer your quietness over your cries.

You can't move. You can't spit it out. You can't bite it off. You can't ask for help.

Green Lantern is rubbing your cheek while — slightly — mocking you. Wonder Woman is cooing at you, while trying to convince the Lantern to stop with his antics. Aquaman is clearly expressing he is on the Lantern’s side. Batman, Superman and Martian Manhunter are threatening him.

Frustration gets the better of you and the dam breaks loose. Now you are wrapped, with a pacifier and crying. Like a baby. In front of your bosses. In front of people who think you are vulnerable and need them. They're practically keeping you hostage. You didn't want them here. You told them no, countless times, and they just blatantly ignored your boundaries.

You have a pa-ci-fi-er. In. Your. Mouth.

And they are talking. They are ignoring you. They're been doing it for hours. No. Months. That's abuse.

This is the most emotion they ever got out of you and it immediately quiets everyone down. They're just staring at you, shocked. This whole thing is just a shitshow. A disaster. They're a curse. You are cursed.

It's so distracting that it makes Green Lantern lose his concentration, which is what fuels his ring’s power, and the constructs start dissipating.

You immediately get up and put as much distance between you and the team, who all have wide eyes and maybe had just now realized the gravity of the situation, while thinking about control damage.

You are searching desperately for how you could effectively kick them out, while also experiencing just the aftereffects of a new trauma, when it looks like it will get even worse. Flash zooms into the apartment.

— Hey, (Y/N)! Sorry I took so long! Busy Day. N-Not that I wouldn't quit anything and everything just to help you. I just now saw the notification that you took a day off today! W-What… W-What are you guys doing here…? — The speedster noticed after his rambles the he is not the only one in the middle of your living room, and points at the whole team, who is on the complete opposite side of you. They also point at him.

— You’re late. — Batman states.

— Slowest man alive. — Green Lantern calls out his friend.

Flash looks around as if gathering his thoughts and notices your distressed state. He turns completely to them, his back to you and him being between you and his team.

— What did you do to them? — At his demand, all of them start pointing at each other and giving some sort of explanation or their side of the story at the same time, turning it into unintelligible sounds, until your yell interrupts them.

— GET. OUT!

— But-

— OUT!

— But, (Y/N)-

— NOW! GET OUT NOW!

They grumble but comply. Penny-One, who was totally unfazed during the while ordeal, just sighs, and starts making his way with them. Until you take a timid step toward him and stop him.

— N-Not you… I-I mean the soup was really good and I don't think I will have the energy to cook later… I-If it's n-not bothering you… — The older man smiles placantinly at you.

— Of course, dear. I'm getting paid either way, might as well just finish my job here.

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@wandalfnation

[neil-gaiman]

Hey Mr. Neil Gaiman,

I know you get a lot of questions and sorry to bother u with another but this isn't really an ask it's more of an appreciation message.

It's my birthday today, so I received this beautiful book. My parents couldn't get me the actual GO book and said they'll try to get it for Christmas. Though this book is really intriguing, I haven't read all of it yet. I did some skim reading, and I learnt the GO would've originally been a movie?! (I'm still new to the fandom, so I'm learning stuff) That's sick, I'm sad it didn't become a movie, but wow, you pushed through with the idea of transforming the book into live action! Thank you for being so dedicated to the production of the series, I read that you really focused on even small details during production, which is surprising. Thank you for this fabulous series (and great TV companion and book) 😊 and I hope you have a brilliant day/night/ afternoon!

I'm so glad. It's a terrific book. Happy birthday!

[loaksky]

— 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒊𝒏𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒆 𝒔𝒑𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖 & 𝒊 | 𝒆. 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒎𝒔

mean neighbor!ellie x sunshine fem!reader, angst / fluff / hurt + comfort, modern!au warnings: language / 18+ content (mdni!), wc: 5k

you have a hot new neighbor…too bad she doesn’t want a thing to do with you!

tagging those who commented / liked my previous interest post!: @loversreligion , @tahni-04 , @parrotpeggy , @acnologiasgf , @maybe-cece (happy birthday gemini queen ! <3)

an — first time writing for ellie ! content warnings include oral (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving). not my first time writing 18+ content, but my first time posting eeek. i apologize for the person ellie has turned me into lmaooo. feel free to send me more ideas, blurbs, hcs, etc.

neighbor!ellie who moves in on a hot sticky july day.

ac’s busted in the common areas, elevator hasn’t worked in weeks, and she’s moved into a unit on the fifth floor.

neighbor!ellie who’s admittedly too far gone and incredibly irritated because jesse keeps fucking around and they almost drop her flat screen on the third flight of steps.

neighbor!ellie who finally gets most of the boxes and furniture settled and doesn’t even get to collapse on the couch for .2 seconds before someone’s knocking on the door.

yanks the knob so hard, the door rattles on its hinges.

eyes narrow when she sees you, all neat, not sweaty, dressed in an outfit definitely not indicative of a night in. only makes her even more annoyed because she just wants two seconds of peace.

“yes?” her tone is sharp, gaze bored because your lips part thrice before the words are spilling out.

“i know it’s miserable out, and this building can be a piece of shit, so i made some blackberry tea!”

neighbor!ellie who gives the glass, beaded with condensation, a brief glance before crossing her arms over her chest.

“i’m allergic to blackberries,” ellie says flatly.

your round eyes widen impossibly before tucking the glass behind your back.

“oh fuck, i’m so sorry,” you babble. “i have peach! or maybe mint? i—”

“i’ll pass.”

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t beat around the bush and makes a move to close the door because she hadn’t even checked into the conversation.

“if you ever need anything, i’m right next door!” you chirp. “i’m-”

“yup, yeah, got it. good night.”

and the door is shutting in your face.

neighbor!ellie who’s trying to sleep in because she stayed up all night playing tekken 4 with jesse jolting awake when she hears three soft raps against the front door.

has an inkling of who it could be so she’s only mildly surprised when she sees you standing on the welcome mat that says ‘no weenies allowed’ because jesse thought it was the funniest thing (ellie’d been only slightly amused).

“morning,” you smile.

you have a plate covered in foil in your hands and ellie gives you a brief onceover to find that you’re dressed to the nines again (admittedly it’s just a simple sundress, but the red and white ginham cuts at the meatiest part of your thighs and she has to remind herself to keep her eyes up).

“it’s…” ellie trails off, glances at the clock on the oven to find that it’s not even 9am. “…8:52am on a saturday morning.”

“it is,” you agree, extending the plate to her. “i, uh, hope you’re not allergic to pancakes?”

“…i’m not.”

you beam.

“great!”

you’re shoving the food in her hands before she can decline and ellie finds that the ceramic is still warm.

neighbor!ellie who awkwardly holds the plate up to you as a silent thanks and shuts the door in your hopeful face.

“i gotta give it to you williams, didn’t think you’d pull within 24 hours,” jesse mutters groggily from the couch he’d helped her lug up the stairs yesterday afternoon.

“oh fuck off,” she huffs, tearing the foil from the plate to find a five-stack of fluffy pancakes with two cute little strawberry-shaped containers that has butter and syrup respectively.

“who’s it from?” jesse asks, even though he knows the answer.

“girl in 5a.”

first bite in and ellie’s eyebrows raise because wow, that’s damn good.

jesse swipes a bite despite ellie’s protests and they polish off the matching plate that she puffs a laugh at because there’s a strawberry bandit painted in the center and in shoddy lettering says, “this is a strobbery”

neighbor!ellie who surprises you by washing and returning the plate later that evening, muttering out a quick thanks before ducking back into her apartment without another word.

she leaves you blinking, staring at the space she was previously standing in a moment prior before you smile and shut the door because god ellie is so hot.

neighbor!ellie doesn’t expect it to become a routine, but more often than not, you’re knocking on her door at any given hour with snacks and she’s surprised when, a week and a half in, she’s had to do minimal grocery shopping because you’re always feeding her.

little does she know it’s because you’re looking forward to the brief moments that she’s unintentionally banging on your door to return your plates and dinnerware.

neighbor!ellie who’s a mechanic and brings your goodies to work sometimes and gets teased by the other mechanics because they think she has a girlfriend.

neighbor!ellie who after revealing she works in a garage starts opening up her front door to little reusable bags with cute notes and food puns if your schedule’s don’t line up.

neighbor!ellie whose schedule does end up frequently aligning with yours and you end up taking the same elevator down.

“morning, ellie,” you greet, smiling softly at her despite being up at the asscrack of dawn.

neighbor!ellie who yawns, takes the lunch you made for her gratefully and walks with you to the elevator.

“morning, 5a.”

neighbor!ellie who could get used to only seeing you in the fifth floor halls, however, after a few weeks, you stumble upon her in different circumstances.

you’re usually out on your balcony in the early mornings to water your plants and drink your tea or coffee, but today’s been exceptionally rough at work (you’re, surprise, a café owner) so you step out to take a deep breath late in the evening after your shift.

you definitely don’t expect to find ellie perched on a stool flicking the ash from a blunt over the railing.

“‘sup,” she hums, taking a long pull.

“hey,” you sigh.

“long day?” she humors you.

the two of you don’t really have much conversation because ellie’s always finding ways to cut interactions with you short.

and it’s not particularly because she doesn’t like you, but she’s caught the vibe you’re giving off and she doesn’t want to give you any unnecessary hope, especially after such a messy break up with the last girl.

(it’s definitely not because something about you makes her nervous).

so she doesn’t really expect you to spill, but one moment you’re debating whether or not you should divulge and the next you’re talking a mile a minute about how draining the job can be especially when employees end up being unreliable and the customers are impatient.

ellie’s gone through the entire joint and you still haven’t stopped talking and she doesn’t want to be mean, especially because you’ve been so nice to her since she’s moved in, but the high is wearing off because she’s too focused on finding an out of the one-sided conversation.

“you should come by,” you say, once you’re done babbling. “to the café, i mean. bring your friends, i’ll stay open a little later for you guys.”

that catches ellie’s attention after she’d zoned out.

“i— you don’t have to do that,” she says. “and i mean, we’re all pretty busy and—”

“no, no!” you say sweetly. “i insist! i wanna test out a few new seasonal recipes and i’d love some opinions!”

ellie’s wracking her brain, but you’re looking at her so hopefully and you look too cute with a few strands of hair falling from your updo. she really doesn’t want to give in, so she gives a lukewarm response instead.

“i’ll, uh, get back to you, i guess.”

you’re grinning.

“try to clear saturday night!” you tell her. “sometime around 9:30!”

ellie opens her mouth to give one last protest, but you’re standing from where you’d been leaning against the railing.

“it’ll be fun!” you tell her. “night, ellie!”

neighbor!ellie who really doesn’t want to go because she feels like it’ll only add fuel to the fire.

the beginning of the week rolls around and you decide that this’ll be the week you’ll finally ask ellie out.

you figure that ellie’s just really quiet, isn’t the one to really put herself out there, so you wanna take initiative.

you’re thinking of all the different recipes you could try because you really wanna wow her and her friends.

little does ellie know that you’re lowkey agonizing over saturday and it’s all you can think about: what you’ll wear, what pairings you want to present, how you’ll decorate the cafe.

meanwhile, ellie’s trying to find a way out of it and jesse’s not any help because he keeps teasing her about how she must be broken for not wanting her hot neighbor who has a glaringly obvious crush on her.

everyone on the whole floor, possibly even the whole building knows. hell, even the doorman knows (and it’s definitely not because you stop to chat with him frequently when you walk your little beagle, apple, and ellie becomes a frequent topic of conversation).

neighbor!ellie who starts avoiding you because she fears that her being receptive to your kindness is giving you the wrong idea (definitely not because you’re growing on her and you’re becoming a part of her daily routine).

neighbor!ellie who sees you twice the entire week, doesn’t answer the door when you knock, stuffs your cute little post-its about saturday somewhere in the back of her junk drawer, smokes her blunts on the roof to avoid running into on the balcony.

neighbor!ellie who spends most of her time at the garage with jesse and her coworkers in efforts to get home after you do.

you figure that maybe she is really busy and you shouldn’t have been so pushy about the tasting, but you’ve grown to really like her and you can’t give this up without officially giving it a shot.

neighbor!ellie who ducks out of her apartment when she knows you’re out on saturday and leaves her lights off, so you’ll know she isn’t home.

neighbor!ellie who spends the day with jesse and his girl and gets invited to a kickback on the otherside of town.

neighbor!ellie who’s about two joints in and a couple shots out, so she’s crossed by nine and you completely slip her mind.

you’re on the other side of town, about a block from your apartment, waiting in the cafe for ellie.

you made such a pretty spread of lavender matcha cookies and lemon muffins. used your special espresso roast to brew a delicious batch of coffee to make a few lattes.

you’d even bought flowers from next door, decorated the table and light a few candles.

it’s 9:45 and you think that she’s gonna be late, but time’s passing and the pastries are going stale, the coffee going lukewarm.

it’s 10:30 when you start losing hope.

probably 11:30 when you blow out the candles, box up the treats and throw the espresso in the cooler for some iced coffee tomorrow morning.

you should’ve seen it coming, really. she did say that her and her friends were typically busy. and she hadn’t officially confirmed it with you either so you were being rather presumptuous anyways.

you decide that maybe you’ll just drop them by her place tomorrow and ask her to lunch!

it’s about midnight when you walk up the sidewalk and see that her LEDs are on in her room. it vaguely smells like weed so you figure she’d been smoking a little.

you don’t wanna bother her so late at night so you enter your own apartment, set the box on the kitchen island before padding into your room to get ready for bed.

you should’ve seen it coming, ellie standing you up, but what you don’t see coming, or hear, for that matter, are the muffled moans through the paper thin walls.

you’d been used to hearing ellie cuss at her video games, heard her getting better at playing the guitar, bickering with jesse over who got to be who during smash bros, but this was new.

you’d never heard the voice before, pitched and whiny.

your cheeks warm because whatever ellie’s doing must be good. you can’t even find it in yourself to be relieved that ellie was interested in girls. you’d initially been scared that maybe you were reading into it all wrong.

regardless, obviously you’d read everything way way wrong because ellie’s mouth is filthy and there’s no misconstruing the fact that she’s fucking someone six ways to sunday and you can hear every gory detail.

your stomach is churning because it’s been weeks and you couldn’t even get ellie outside the fifth floor’s hallway.

it’s obvious they’re thoroughly enjoying themselves and the hurt and envy that kindles is an ugly sight to see.

you end up sleeping in the living room that night.

neighbor!ellie who chases the girl out the following morning after a nasty hangover and finally coming to terms with the fact that she’d brought someone home last night.

neighbor!ellie whose stomach drops to her ass when someone knocks on the door a few minutes later and she thinks it’s you, but it ends up being jesse.

“jesus, did 5a do that?” he asks, referring to your apartment number in regards to the fresh hickies blooming up the column of ellie’s throat.

“god no,” ellie says. “how many times do i have to tell you, that’s never happening.”

neighbor!ellie who would never tell a soul that she’d been imagining a certain someone the night prior.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t want to think of anything more than being your neighbor because she’s locked in this lease for the next two years and she’d prefer to not shit where she sleeps.

(yeah, that’s totally it).

“dude why not? she’s obviously so down bad for you,” jesse chuckles, pushing past ellie.

she huffs a breath, defensive.

“god, i don’t know how she isn’t embarrassed, it’s fuckin’ pathetic.”

oh—

you’d heard jesse’s voice, then ellie’s, and figured you could give her the pastries you worked so hard on last night.

you’d always thought that ellie was just naturally aloof, kept to herself often, but last night was the coffin and this morning was the nail.

in the stillness of your apartment, jesse and ellie’s voice carries through the thin walls.

“i mean, you could just fuck her a couple of times, get it out of your system?”

“god, look at her, there’s not a casual bone in her body.”

“you can’t run away from her forever, yknow?”

neighbor!ellie who thinks to herself that she’ll try anyways.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t have to try, because you become an enigma after that.

it’s the middle of the week and she hasn’t had to even try avoiding you once.

you haven’t knocked on her door since the week prior and it makes her brows furrow.

neighbor!ellie who starts feeling bad for standing you up, but feels infinitely worse when she goes to dump some of her trash and finds the carton of pastries you’d baked.

they have your café’s name emblazoned on the logo and she vaguely remembers you chattering about trying lavender in one of your recipes.

she sees the purple food coloring and her heart sinks because why are they in the trash? :(

realizes that she’s fucked up and that maybe she should just be completely transparent with you.

neighbor!ellie who hesitantly knocks on your door and waits patiently for you to answer.

hears shuffling on the other side, but you don’t open up.

neighbor!ellie who tries to convince herself that you’re just busy! work is stressful right now and you’re keeping to yourself.

but you two end up bumping into each other on the elevator (she’d been lurking), and you give her a curt greeting because you’re polite and you realize that ellie doesn’t owe you anything.

“apple’s got a haircut,” she observes, leaning down to pet the pup.

“yeah,” you hum.

“she looks cute,” ellie compliments.

“thanks.”

neighbor!ellie who’s not used to you icing her out, so she takes the leap.

“hey, i wanted to apologize…” she trails off. “about saturday. i shouldn’t have flaked.”

“s’okay,” you say simply, watching as the numbers painfully descend. “you were busy.”

a blanket of silence.

“i’m sure the pastries were great,” ellie tries again. “we could always—”

the elevator dings and the doors part.

“have a good day, ellie,” you say softly, tugging apple by the leash to leave the lift.

neighbor!ellie who swears she hears you sniffling on the other side of the wall later that night, but tries to convince herself that you’ve just got allergies.

neighbor!ellie who thinks of every excuse in the book to try and talk to you, but she ends up freezing because fuck, have you always been this pretty?

neighbor!ellie who buys a succulent and puts it on her balcony. she tries to catch you in the mornings when you’re watering your plants, but it seems like your schedules just don’t align anymore.

neighbor!ellie is frustrated as fuck because she’d been avoiding getting attached, but you don’t knock on her door to deliver snacks or talk her ear off anymore and it drives her absolutely nuts.

neighbor!ellie who gets teased infinitely more at work because her coworkers are now convinced that there’s ‘trouble in paradise’.

“jesus christ, you’re actually pathetic,” jesse rolls his eyes over breakfast one weekend.

“dude, she just…” ellie lets out a frustrated sigh. “i just—”

“you miss her,” he fills in.

ellie turns red.

“fuck you, i don’t—”

“it’s okay to admit it, yknow?” he says. “she’s a lot different from your exes. she’s genuinely sweet, in it because she really likes you.”

ellie swallows, lips pursing.

“you’re soft around her,” jesse observes. “you think that if you give in, she’s gonna uncover parts of you you don’t even let me or joel see.”

“fuck you—”

“for someone who likes bitches you—”

ellie groans.

neighbor!ellie who goes home and rolls a joint because this limbo is stressing her out.

and FINALLY! you’re watering your plants on your balcony when she slides the patio door open and slinks outside.

you don’t say anything to her, just continue watering.

she slumps in her folding lawn chair, kicking her feet up on the railing to feign nonchalance, but you haven’t blinked an eye at her and she’s annoyed.

“been doing alright?” she asks finally.

you freeze for the briefest of moments before glancing at her.

you’ve got bags under your eyes and your lips are pursed and ellie’s heart squeezes.

“yeah,” you answer simply. “fine.”

ellie hums.

“how’s work?”

“same old,” you say, turning your back to her to tend to the plants housed on the other side.

neighbor!ellie who doesn’t know what to say. who’s so used to trying to break conversation, not make them.

neighbor!ellie who fidgets because you’re making her nervous. you’re usually so sweet and smiley, but this side of you makes her gut churn.

neighbor!ellie who bites the bullet.

“i’m…i’m off on sunday…” she says, scratching the back of her neck. “if you wanted to— i dunno.”

your back straightens and she thinks you’re gonna bite, but you glance at the sidewalk below and shake your head.

“you don’t have to pretend, you know?” you say softly.

it’s like a punch in the chest and ellie’s scrambling.

“no! it’s—” she realizes she’s shouting. “it’s not like that, i—”

“i’m a big girl, ellie,” you tell her, that stupid little strawberry-shaped spray bottle squeezed tight in your hand. “if i was annoying, you could have just said that.”

and god she feels so fucking awful because this entire time, you’d just been trying to be nice to her. it was a harmless crush and—

“i don’t think you’re annoying,” she argues weakly. “can you…can you look at me, please?”

your head tilts up and ellie realizes that you’re trying to stop yourself from crying.

“god, i really am pathetic,” is your watery whisper.

ellie’s crossing the balcony, fully ready to climb over the railing onto your patio, but you’re quickly dashing away the tears and throwing the sliding door open.

“goodnight,” you tell her, and you’re sealing her out in the humid air.

neighbor!ellie who’s in knots because living next to someone she used to see everyday fucking sucks now that all the two of you are reduced to is straining extra hard to hear your shuffling from the other side of the walls.

neighbor!ellie who stands in front of your door sometimes, wanting to knock, but feeling like she doesn’t deserve closure with you because it’s all her fault.

neighbor!ellie who realizes that the very awkwardness and discomfort she was avoiding to begin with could’ve been avoidable had she just been up front with you.

you were sweet and you were understanding…mature. you would’ve probably taken better to honesty than ellie blowing you off and lowkey being an ass to you.

neighbor!ellie being scolded by jesse after a couple of days pass because he’s beating her ass at smash bros without even trying and it’s hurting his ego.

“are you seriously gonna keep moping over 5a?” he asks after the fourth round won.

“i’m not moping,” ellie grumbles.

“oh c’mon dude,” jesse moans in annoyance. “you and 5a have this dad with four kids who doesn’t want a puppy but ends up loving the shit out of the—”

“i do not love her,” ellie barks.

jesse smirks.

“that’s all you took from that, ellie, seriously?” jesse scoffs.

“i mean, it’s not like there’s much that can be done, anyways,” ellie grunts, tossing the video game controller onto the coffee table’s surface. “she fuckin’ hates me and i don’t blame her.”

“5a does not hate you,” jesse sighs. “her feelings are just hurt, but you can fix it.”

“and how’s that?” ellie crosses her arms over her chest.

“you’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out.” jesse grabs the discarded controller from the coffee table and shoves it into ellie’s chest. “now put your all into this next round, i’m still gonna beat your ass.”

neighbor!ellie who’s never felt more nervous in her life.

who’s standing a block away from the café you own with a little gift bag and a bouquet of flowers.

neighbor!ellie who’s used to effortless relationships and casual situationships.

neighbor!ellie who’s scared shitless that she’s making the wrong decision giving in like this, but maybe jesse’s right and you’re just what she needs.

neighbor!ellie whose hands shake the entire walk up to the café.

she sees you with your back turned towards the door, probably doing closing inventory or something of the like with the way you scribble quickly against a clipboard.

you look so in your element with your apron tied tight around the narrow of your waist and perhaps now’s not the appropriate time, but your work pants look exceptionally great spread over the—

“i’m sorry, but we’re closed for the evening,” your voice sounds when ellie opens the front door and the chime tinkles against the glass.

“i’ll make it quick,” ellie says quietly, paper wrap around the flowers crinkling as she shifts on her feet.

you whirl around with wide eyes, almost dropping the clipboard when you find your neighbor standing in the middle of your café.

she looks so good in a fitted brown button up rolled to the elbow to reveal the whorls of ink decorating her forearms and skinny jeans that are way too good at highlighting the muscles of her thighs.

“ellie, what are you doing here?” you ask, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

“i was, er, in the area?”

one of your eyebrows raise.

“well, is there something i can help you with?” you ask, eyeing the flowers and the giftbag in what ellie can only read as disdain.

it’s like the day you two first met all over again but the roles are reversed. her lips gape once, twice, then three times as she tries to find the words. but ellie’s never been good at talking about how she feels, at being vulnerable.

“i have to close up,” you prod, tone tired. “and whoever you’re visiting after this is probably waiting.”

the words after are a silent insinuation.

god knows i did.

you’re turning on your heel and ellie knows she’s losing you.

“i like you.” she says suddenly.

you freeze, fist tightening mercilessly around your clipboard.

“that’s not funny,” you say stonily. “you don’t have to make an ass out of me for having feelings for you, ellie. i get it, it’s hilarious that your dorky neighbor has a crush on you, but you don’t have to drag it. i’m—”

neighbor!ellie who’s always thought that you talk a tad too much and sets the gifts on the nearest table before crossing the distance between the two of you.

she’s towering over you and you’re looking up at her with furrowed brows as she pries the clipboard from your fingers and kisses you without another word.

“wait, wait,” you whisper, pulling away from her momentarily.

her lips chase yours, one hand splaying over the small of your back as the other cradles your chin.

“i’m sorry,” she says quietly. “i didn’t—”

“i don’t understand,” you admit. “you…you and your friend were—”

ellie shakes her head vehemently.

“i was being stupid,” she says quickly. “it’s—” she sighs. “it’s a long story.”

“but the night of the tasting,” you start. “you brought someone home…i heard you.”

ellie closes her eyes in defeat, rolls her lips as she presses her forehead against yours.

“it was a mistake, you have to believe me,” she pleads softly. “i was drunk out of my mind and high as hell and—”

she stops talking when she sees the expression on your face, notices the way your fingers hover.

“you have every right not to entertain this,” ellie swallows. “and i know i’ve been awful to you, but i…i really like you 5a.”

your head tilts down and ellie’s leaning forward in an effort to keep the eye contact.

“i’m not good at stuff like this,” she confesses. “obviously.”

you breathe out an involuntary laugh.

“but you’re different, really different,” ellie says. “and you make me feel so fuckin’ weird—”

you flinch.

“a good weird!” she assuages. “it’s good. and i really wanna try things with you if you’ll let me.”

you look hesitant, but ellie’s hopeful and you’ve always been a sucker for green eyes.

18+ BONUS

neighbor!ellie really wanted to take things slow with you after officially winning you over, but she can’t really help herself.

she takes you out a week after your heart-to-heart in your café, a nice restaurant you’d chattered about during your elevator rides to the lobby, and she’d been so close to making it through dinner and keeping it appropriate, but the dessert the two of you ordered had strawberries.

needless to say, when you’d taken a bite into the candied fruit and the juice curved down your jaw and slithered between your cleavage, ellie threw a wad of bills onto the table top and dragged you out of the restaurant.

didn’t make it far, ended up at the edge of the parking lot in the back seat of her car with two of her fingers knuckles deep in your heat while she swallowed your moans whole.

neighbor!ellie who takes you to hers after you cum twice and she tastes you for the first time.

“fuck, angel,” she whispers against your clit. “pussy’s too good.”

the sight is a devastating one, your skirt bunched around your waist and your top discarded somewhere on her bedroom floor.

one of your hands bunches her sheets in your fist, the other threaded through her brown hair as she eats you out like she’s absolutely starved.

“that’s it, princess,” she eggs you on, stuffing her fingers and curling against the walls of your spongy cunt. her tongue is sloppy against your little bud and your dulcet moans are buttery soft, absolute music to her ears.

that night seems to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back because she can’t get enough of you.

especially not when you wear that red and white gingham sundress you’d worn the second time the two of you met.

neighbor!ellie who spends so much time in your apartment now, likes to especially when you’re baking because you wear that stupidly tiny dress in your stupidly tiny kitchen and it takes every ounce of self control to keep her kisses on your exposed shoulders appropriate.

you start kneading the dough and she can’t keep her hands to herself, hooking her jaw into the crook of your neck as her fingers dance under the hem of your dress and ghosts the seam of your thighs.

“y’look so pretty,” ellie hums, tongue darting to lave at the juncture of your jaw and your neck.

“wait, ah!” fingertips trace over your mound and a semi-giddy, semi-disbelieving laugh rumbles from ellie’s chest when she finds you aren’t wearing any panties.

“you’re a dirty girl, angel,” she bites, one arm securing around your waist, the other toying with the slick coating your inner thighs. “what happened to getting work done?”

all you manage is a breathy cry when ellie skips the formalities and taps your clit roughly.

“el—ellie!” you whimper, one of your flour dusted hands wrapping around her wrist as your back arches and your ass presses into her hips.

your body stutters when you feel something nestle between the pert cheeks of your ass.

you throw a surprised look over your shoulder and ellie’s already grinning lazily at you as she continues kissing all over you.

“surprise,” she whispers.

neighbor!ellie who’s so gone. who still constantly gets teased by jesse and her coworkers. who wasn’t willing to admit it at first, but wants absolutely everything to do with you.

neng © 2023

[dcxdpdabbles]

I loved Summon AU, is it possible that you make more Summon AU?

The aftermath of the summoning leaves the Wayne Manor in a strange sense of foreboding. No one really knows what the Ghost King has done with their list or what it means for them that he has accepted.

Everyone tried to go about their daily lives, attempting to act like they weren't looking over their shoulders. Bruce had nearly broken a blood vessel when he heard about them doing a stupid online trend when they knew magic and gods were real.

They couldn't think of a better excuse for why they did besides "it seemed funny at the time."

Bruce had been so unimpressed with them all that he broke out the big guns.

That night, Alfred grounded them. He really sat everyone- minutes Cass because she had escaped through the window after Danny called- and told them they would not be allowed to use any form of technology unless it was related to their nighttime job.

They would also be given a chore list to complete every day until their punishment was over.

Even though neither Dick or Jason lived at home anymore, they too were grounded and didn't bother to even try to argue with the aging butler. Cass was informed of her own punishment through a text, and she returned about thirty minutes later, ready to face her punishment.

She reorganized everything in storage- and in Wayne Manor, there was a lot in storage- without a single complaint, but she did seem somewhat nervous. And excited?

Like a child waiting to open a present.

That was out of character for Cass, but no one was brave enough to ask her about it. Life before the manor was a taboo topic when it came to Cass.

A week later, her restless behavior finally came to light.

When the doorbell rang, Alfred was just looking over the wood polishing job Tim and Damian had been assigned. Confused- as there were no expected guests and the kids were all still grounded- he approached the door cautiously. Tim was on standby in case things went south.

A young adult, likely barely eighteen, with pretty blue eyes, a vast, charming smile, and a gorgeous winter-themed dress, was on the other side of the door. Their hair is short but styled to have one side longer than the other, framing their face perfectly.

A spinnable circle pin on her dress read Gender Fluid in the unmovable part and "She/Her day" in the spinal part.

"Hi there," She chirps, a dimple on full display. "I'm Danny."

"Good afternoon, Danny. My name is Alfred. How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if Cass was home?" Dany starts surprising Alfred and Tim -who were eavesdropping around the corner- as the girl carefully plays with her hair. "I was hoping to talk to her."

"Miss Casandra is currently not allowed guests." The butler starts slowly. He watches her face fall dramatically before humming. "I can, however, pass along a message to her."

"Oh yeah, that be great. Please let her know Danny was wondering if she would like to go with me to see a ballet tonight. Um if she's allowed to go out."

Tim's eyes widen. A date? Danny had come here in person to ask Cass if she wanted to go on a date? Then had the courage to ask Alfred, to his face, if she could take his grandaughter out?

Who is she? Tim thinks amazed. He wants to text the rest of the group chat, which would invade Cass' privacy. He waits a few minutes until Alfred responds.

"Miss Casandra is currently grounded. Unfortunately, she and her siblings cannot leave until their punishment ends."

Tim winces. Hopefully, Cass being nineteen and still being grounded at her age didn't scare off Danny. Some people didn't understand how much power Alfred's word had over the manor and frankly, those people didn't deserve Cass anyway.

But it would make her sad.

"Oh, that's okay. Thank you for letting me-"

A scream makes everyone jump. Tim whirls around to find Damian pressed against the main stairway. His face has gone three sheets of white, staring at Danny with horror.

"Y-you!"

Danny tilts her head. "Me?"

"Y-you!" Damian gasps and Tim is highly alarmed that his voice is tinted with fear. "Why are you here?!"

"I came to ask Cass if-"

"You will not take Cain from me, Ghost King! I will destroy your core before you try to get near her!" Damian screams, hand suddenly holding a glowing green sword, but his threat doesn't hold much because he is literally shaking in his boots. "You have your summon payment already! You shall leave Cain alone!"

What.

"Oh! You think no, no. I'm not here for her soul or anything. Cass and I go way back when she lived on the streets. " Danny- the ghost king they summoned using a list of their gay awaking apparently- laughs, waving her hands as if to calm the young child. "I liked her for a while but thought she didn't feel the same. Until the summoning, where I saw my name on the list. We talked it out, and I was hoping to take her on a first date, you know?"

"You lie!" Damian races down to point his sword at Danny, looking just as wild as a cornered animal about to fight for its life. "Why would the strongest being in the multiverse live on the streets?!"

"Well....it's not like they pay to rule the dead....I had a rough patch, but Cass helped me get back on my feet." Danny muttered, slightly embarrassed. Then she squits at Damian. "Wait, are you a al Ghul?"

Damian breaks into a sweat as Danny gasps, "You are! You're family owes me so much money in backed up taxes for the healing pool! We cut off contamination maintenance because Ra's refused to pay years ago! Kid, do you know I can get into contact with your family member about the Lazarus pit?"

Damian screamed again, turned around, and ran, leaving a stunned Alfred, Tim and Danny. "Guess not. Anyway, sorry to be a bother Mr. Alfred, I'll come back when Cass can go out. Bye!"

A familiar portal rips under Danny as she falls through with a cheerful wave. Alfred and Tim watch it close in a moment before Tim turns to the butler. "Did I inhale too many polishing chemicals? Am I hallucinating?"

"No, my dear boy, I saw everything as well."

"Oh, good. " Tim pauses. " One of us needs to speak to Damian and Cass."

Alfred closes the door slowly. "I'll find Master Damian. You go for Miss Cassandra and Master Tim?"

"Hmm?"

"The next time, Mister Conner sends you a fun trend to try. Don't."

"Yeah, that's fair."

[spyder-junkie]

EARTH-42 MILES MORALES X READER part 4

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

drop idea for the next part because Im running outta steam lol

It isnt long before you and Miles are hanging out every other day.

You would see him after school when you could, or he would sneak into your room at night.

And this goes on for weeks.

That is until you’re talking to Miles one night outside his flat.

You wish him goodbye, kissing his cheek and being on your way. He goes inside, and as you’re about half way down the block, you get a text.

‘my momma saw you kiss me through the window, she wants to meet you.’

You literally stand still on the sidewalk for a moment, heart beating in your chest.

So the two of you try to schedule a day where you can sit down and meet Rio.

You pitch the following day, but she has to work late at the hospital.

Miles pitches friday, but you have an afterschool study session

So you pick that sunday, which works until Miles calls you and tells you Rio was scheduled a later shift and wouldnt be able to cook that day.

“How about we cook instead? To give her a break.” You say.

Miles’ face scrunches up in the facetime.

“I cant cook.” He says plainly.

“But I can, it could be a surprise.” You say.

So thats what you do. Miles tells Rio and Aaron they’ll order food that afternoon, and you and Miles go to the store to get groceries in the morning.

Miles sat at the island of the kitchen, his head in his hand as he watched you cook.

He was playing music for you, a couple modern hispanic pop songs.

“Shes really gonna like this.” Miles said, small smike on his face.

“I hope so.” You reply, mixing something in a pot.

You put your spoon down, letting the food cook while you turn to Miles.

You reach your hand out, prompting him to stand infront of you.

You smile up at him, swaying your hips softly in tune of the music.

He follows your lead, a little smoother than you expected.

He hums along softly to the song, spinning your around the kitchen.

“Youre light on your feet.” You say, letting him twirl you.

The two of you dance and laugh until the kitchen timer dings, in which you break away to check the food.

And unbeknownst to you, Rio stands at the front door, Aaron at her side as she peers through the opened crack.

“Theyre gonna realize youre watching em.” He says, a smirk plasterd on his face.

“I havent seen my baby dance since he was a baby.” Rio whispers.

She waits until the two of you begin plating the food to smooth her scrubs out and open the door.

“Estoy en casa.” She said softly, catching Miles’s eyes.

“Whats all this?” She had a sort of unreadable expression on her face.

“Miles told me you wouldnt have time to cook, so I thought why not cook for you?” You say timidly.

You take you oven mits off and walk up to Rio.

“Soy s/n, gusto en conocerla Sra. Morales” You smile, holding your hand out to her.

Her expression cracks, a smile gracing her lips.

“Encantada de conocerte, nice spanish you have there.”

You then hold your hand out to Aaron.

“Nice to meet you too Mr.Aaron.”

Aaron is a bit more curt with his handshake, his face still stoic. He hums out a little “mhm” as he shakes your hand.

“Shes pretty, Miles.” Rio gushes, then she turns to you. “Youre really pretty.”

miles shrugs with a cocky grin on his face, leaning against the kitchen island.

You smile and thank her, walking back to the stove.

“Miles mentioned how much you like puerto rican dishes, so i made mofongo and Arroz con gandules.”

Rio looks over the food, taking a moment to smell over the aromas.

“Your abuela used to make this when you were little, Miles.” She says fondly, then she shakes her head.

“This looks great, lets eat. Miles help me set the table.”

So while you plate the food, Rio and Miles set the table. The four of you sat down to eat not before long, You and Miles on one side of the table, Rio and Aaron on the other.

“You did real good here, ma.” Miles says, mouth half full.

“He’s right, you know your way around a kitchen. Isnt that right Aaron?” Rio elbows him.

Aaron humms a ‘mhm’ eating well nonetheless.

“You know Unc,” Miles begins, putting a spoonful of rice in his mouth.

“Y/n might be able to fix your truck.”

Aaron raises his eyebrow at you, your eyes widening.

“Oh- I, uh, my dad works with cars, Miles told me you were having some issues, maybe i could take a look at it.” You say softly, tensing under his gaze.

“Its an engine problem. I doubt you can fix it.” He says.

Before you can say anything, Miles and Rio protest at the same time.

“Cmon man.”

“Give her a chance.”

Aaron rolls his eyes.

“….you can come look at it after dinner.” He says, getting back to his meal.

When everyone finishes their meal and the conversation dies down, Aaron gets up from the table.

“Lets go.” He huffs.

You and Miles stand up and follow him to the door just before he puts his hand to Miles’ chest.

“Help your moma with the dishes.”

“Man what I-“ Miles’ face scrunches up in irritation as Aaron gives him a pointed look.

“We’ll be back.” He says, motioning you to follow him.

And you do, you follow him down to the parking deck. He leads you to a mini garage labeled with a different apartment number than the one Miles stays in, probably for a different building.

Silently he pops the hood of the car for you, propping open his took box and motioning towards the car. He then crosses his arms and leans against the wall.

You gulp.

Quietly you scan your eyes over the mechanics inside the hood, looking to see what could be wrong with the engine.

“The start up is weak.” Aaron says suddenly.

“Took her to the mechanics and they quoted me 7 hundred to fix it.”

“Oh, why didnt they just give it a flush?” You ask, turning to him.

He raises an eyebrow.

You look around the garage for a mechanic creep, stretching it out and rolling your way under the hood of the car. Taking a wrench, you dislodge a couple bolts, pulling a pannel open.

“Do you have a watter bottle?” You ask, reaching your grease soaked hand our from under the car.

Theres shuffling, then a new watter bottle is placed in your hand.

You flush out part of the engine, using a given rag to dry it out and placing the pannel back on. Then you roll out from under the car, wiping your forehead.

“Try starting her up.” You say.

Aaron gets in the car, putting the key in and starting it up. And it starts up smooth.

A suprised expression crosses his face, followed by a smile.

“Id do that every 2-3 months, if you do it too much those parts will rust.” You say, coming up besides him while wiping your hands with a rag.

Aaron claps your back suddenly, beaming down at you.

“Thanks babygirl, I might have to get you in here on off days, get a set of extra hands on the projects we’re working on.”

You wonder if he’s talking about prowler things.

You dont ask though, giving a small ‘you’re welcome’ and walking after him as he closes the garage.

The walk back is quiet for a while, then Aaron speaks.

“My nephew has a lot going on in his life.” He says.

“If you can keep him focused on what’s important, Ion’ mind you staying around.”

You look over at him, then nod your head.

When the two of you return to the apartment, you’re laughing at the embarrassing Miles stories Aaron is telling you.

“Well, how’d it go?” Rio asks, a little surprised at Aaron’s joyfulness.

“She saved me 7 hundred, so pretty well.” He smiles.

“See i knew you could handle it.” Miles nudges your shoulder and kisses your cheek.

“Y/n.” Rio calls you name. Her and Aaron look at each other, then at you.

“¿Puedo hablar contigo un momento?”

You look at her and nod, noticing Aaron usher miles into another room.

“Yes ma’am?” You say, sitting at the dining table across from her.

“You know I love my son.” She begins. The air is a little tense now.

“I love him more than anything else, more than he’ll ever know. And he has lost a lot. I dont want to see him hurt again.” She looks at you seriously.

“I dont want to see him hurt ever.” You reply.

“Lets make a deal, then.” Rio says.

“You take care of him, make sure he knows hes loved, and be there for him in the places I cant, and no matter what youll always be welcome here in my home.”

You smile, shaking her out stretched hand.

“Deal.”

The rest of the evening you spend having hearty conversations with Rio and Aaron in the living room.

Miles has you pressed to his side, his hand on your knee.

Sometime into the night you notice him drifting off beside you, his head drooping onto your shoulder peacefully.

And after a while its time for you to go home.

“Walk her home boy.” Aaron quipped, smacking Miles on the back of his neck and startling him awake.

Miles glares at his uncle, getting up to grab his shoes and meet you by the door.

And he walks you home, hand in yours and shoulders relaxed. And once you’re home, you kiss him on the cheek and wish him goodnight.

Then maybe an hour later, after youve showered and gotten into your pajamas, you get a text.

“You did good today, Hermosa, Im proud of you. Also, my mom really likes you, she said come back soon”

tags: @tishsrealwife @call-me-nev @hana-1235 @youcantseem3 @kaealowri @unadulteratedwizardrunaway @kezibear @urmotherswhor3 @ladylovegood-69 @thetoetickler @cumbermovels @cozmicwonder @yams-ley @sh-tposter2021 @vampjacinda @roadkillmeal @animechick555 @the-smut-plug @iluvdi0r @stevenknightmarc @yoashh @kitsunna @caffeine-mess @arachnenotes @erensbbg @nightshxdex @el-chiste @3alvatore @sh-tposter2021 @miatjie @agstuffsworld @ella34435 @iluvdi0r @pulling-out-my-eyes @vakiui @bigpepperpicker @swaggybae @tsukisaiki @osebb

[mariclerc]

What about Charles dreaming about the reader cheating on him? And him being all clingy about it

Thank you so much for this request, I found it so interesting and funny. I hope you like thisss 😋😋

A driver nightmare | cl16

Summary: when Charles dreams about you and it's not usually something pleasant for the both of you. Warnings: fluff, slightly possessive Charles and a little bit of angst.

You and Charles have been dating for a couple of years, and although people sometimes say that it is suffocating to date someone for such a long time, for the two of you it is not like that since you always find something new about each other and end up falling in love over and over again. And it's a nice thing because there are quite strong feelings between the two of you.

But lately Charles has been a bit scattered, so to speak, and you have no idea why is that behavior coming...

So, one night Charles lies asleep next to you, your breathing is even and deep.

“Another night, another nightmare, great...” Charles says as he sighs softly.

He stirs in his sleep, his brow furrowed... The dream is vivid and so painful. You are there, his love, his world, his whole life, is with another man... The laughter, intimacy - things that should be reserved only for the two of you, are being shared with someone else. A cold sweat breaks out on his forehead.

He jolts awake, heart pounding. His eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of disturbance. He finds you there sleeping peacefully, with a serene and angelic face; relief washes over him, but the lingering dread from the dream is a heavy weight on his chest.

Lately he's had a couple of nightmares about you with someone else, and no matter how much he tries to get answers about it, it's all in vain since it's just a nightmare, that's just it... The thing is, to him, everything feels so real and vivid that he actually swears you're not by his side at the moment.

He whispers. “Oh no... It's getting worse.”

He lies there, staring at the ceiling, trying to shake off the nightmare, his mind races over and over. He knows it's irrational because you would never do this to him. But the images are so real that it hurts him a lot.

***

Morning comes, a sliver of light peeking through the curtains. You stir in bed, stretch, and smile softly at him.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” you smiled at his sleeping form. Your voice is soft and melodic, the sunlight catches your eyes, making them sparkle.

“Morning darling.” he says, his voice is rough with sleep, but he forces a smile for you.

You sigh a little bit. “You seem so tired cha. Another nightmare?” you reached out to stroke his hair.

He nodded. “Just a bit baby, but it's nothing to worry about.”

He pulls you closer, burying his face in your hair, the scent of your shampoo is comforting. For a moment, the fear and anxiety fades away.

“You know you can talk to me, right? About anything, okay?” you say softly at him.

“I know sweetheart, I know.” he sighs. “It's just... It's a little complicated.”

He squeezes your hand, trying to reassure himself as much as you.

***

The days pass and Charles continues to be plagued by nightmares at night time. He becomes increasingly withdrawn, his usually cheerful demeanor replaced by a shadow of doubt.

“I’m losing my mind.” he whispered softly while grabbing his hair.

So one afternoon, as you two cuddle on the couch, you can notice the change in him.

“Charles, I know something's wrong. You’ve been distant.” You say in a whisper as you stroke his hair. “And I don't know if I've done anything wrong.”

Charles freezes, his heart pounding... You doing something bad? That is impossible for him, but he can't help but feel guilty.

“You doing something bad? Honey, that's impossible! Everything's fine, love... Just a bit stressed with work, that's all.” he says softly.

You looked at him, your eyes filled with concern for him. “You can't lie to me, Charles. I know you better than that, I know something's bothering you.” you say with a soft voice.

***

A couple of days later, the sunlight streams through the kitchen window, casting a warm glow over the room. The soft clinking of utensils can be heard as you move gracefully around the kitchen, preparing breakfast.

Charles enters, his hair ruffled from sleep, for you he looks so good, and he yawns widely. He stretches, his eyes still half-closed, and then pads over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“Good morning, beautiful! What are you making that smells so so good?” he says while kissing your cheek.

You smile, leaning back into his warm embrace. “Morning, sleepyhead. I'm just making pancakes! Nothing serious.” you giggled.

Charles tightens his grip, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“You're the best chérie.”

He nuzzles your neck, his breath tickling your skin. You giggled, turning around to face him.

“Stop it silly, you’re going to make me spill the batter!”

Charles grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I like watching you cook. You look so... domestic and cute.” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes playfully. ”Is that supposed to be a compliment?”

He shrugs. “I guess so silly bean.”

He pulls you into a tight hug, his possessiveness momentarily surfacing.

“You’re mine, you know?”

You laugh softly, your heart melting at his affection. “I know my love, I know.”

Charles kisses your forehead, a tender gesture that speaks volumes.

Later that day, you and Charles are curled up on the couch, a comfortable silence between the two of you.

Suddenly Charles let out a long sigh. “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, your expression concerned. “What’s wrong, baby love?” you asked him.

Charles takes a deep breath.

“Well... I've been having these… nightmares... About you.”

Your heart skips a beat. “Nightmares? About me?” you asked again and he nodded.

“Yeah... And it's something stupid, I know. But they’ve been getting worse because I see you with someone else. And it’s... it’s horrible, it feels horrible.” he finally confesses and he looks down, his voice barely a whisper.

“Oh, Charlie...” you reached out to take his hand. “It’s just a dream, baby. It doesn’t mean anything! Look, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, okay?”

Charles looks up, searching your eyes for reassurance.

“I know, I know... But it’s been making me so crazy. I’m so sorry if I’ve been acting weird this couple of weeks.” he whispered and you pulled him closer, wrapping your arms around him.

“Baby... You’re not acting weird, you’re just scared. And that’s okay! I’m here for you, always, okay?” you say while caressing his back.

Charles nods, relief washing over him.

He sighed and smiled at you. “I love you amour.”

“I love you too, more than words can say.”