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beautifulbows924 · 2 years

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I Never Knew Daylight Could Be So Violent

Morpheus, Dream of The Endless x Gender Neutral!Reader

Masterlist

AFG Bingo Masterlist

A/N: I’m very proud of this, descriptions have always been my bread & butter and this definitely has quite a few of them. I hope it was worth the wait for those of you who saw the sneak peak! And as always, I hope you enjoy. Feel free to leave any feedback you have in the comments and if you like my work consider leaving a tip! Thanks:) PS: Reblogs and comments act as wonderful early birthday presents!

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.5K+

Warnings: Misleading Fluff, Slight Spoilers, Matthew being used as a plot device (Sorry Matthew), Heavy Angst, Blood & Magick.

Summary: Morpheus searches for a mage to insure what happened to him will never happen to you- But it seems that every choice has a price, and his decisions might just cost him everything.

Created for @anyfandomangstbingo / Square Filled N2: “You’re good at finding things. Find me a reason to stay.”

Boots crush along multicolored glass, a quiet reminder of the devastation as Dream finds himself immersed in the grim reality of his absence. Destiny manifested through predetermined means.

“I kept a journal for awhile—A chronicle of everything that happened in your absence... but slowly, the words began to fade.” Lucience’s eyes wander as if lost to a distant memory, her voice filled with repressed emotion, “Sometime after you left, all the books in the library became bound volumes of blank paper. The next day, the whole library was gone... I never found it again”.

Morpheus pivots to regard her properly, “And yet you remained, while others fled. The royal librarian of an abandoned kingdom”.

Bitter air fills your lungs at the low drawl of his voice, speaking to her as if he never left—standing where you last left him.

“I never felt abandoned. I knew you would return.” Lucienne’s gaze shifts, noting your presence in her peripheral and Morpheus follows suit.

Your feet have instinctively carried you to him.

His mouth twitches, almost imperceptibly. What use are words when you stand before him?

His forehead leans against yours, unable to resist the touch he’s been so cruelly denied for over a century. “Hello”, he sighs.

A gentle murmur, a declaration in itself.

Your fingers twist the edges of his coat, “Hello”, you breathe.

I missed you, he hears.

“We have business— you and I”, Morpheus says. No inquiry, no suggestion, eyeing the bar with an indifferent curiosity. Small and cramped, every inch overwhelmed by the heavy scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke. “It took me quite some time to find you.”

“I wasn’t hiding”, the mage shrugs, taking a long sip of her drink. “But I’m not just out and about looking for business either”, her attention shifts to the news report, volume just loud enough for her to hear.

Dream’s hands are clasped behind his back, his head slanting as he regards her idly, a tinge impatient. "No, I don't suppose you are”, he muses aloud, voice devoid of any emotion, "But I wasn’t asking”.

There’s a casual intensity to his words that has her breaking out in goosebumps and pausing her finger’s path on the rim of her glass. “Is that a threat, Dreamlord?”, she asks, sparing him a wary glance. Her voice may remain steady, but her eyes betray a flicker of fear.

"I have no need of threats. I’ve simply stated a fact. Which is, you and I have business to attend to”, Morpheus’ voice is calm and level, his gaze never wavering from her once. It grows heavier, more palpable as the seconds pass by.

Throwing down a ten, the mage sighs and shifts off of her stool, downing the rest of her drink in one swift movement, “Fine, let's get this over with”.

Light flows through large, stained glass windows, casting the room in a yellow-blue hue. Stone sets upon a seemingly endless staircase, leading to a throne—intricately carved and artfully regal. The Dreaming itself drums to an almost silent melody, mirroring the power it contains back to its source.

“I need to be assured”, Morpheus rasps, breathless. The mage’s words have left a bitter taste in his mouth, poisoning the well with doubt. “I want them to remain unharmed.”

“…I will not lie to you, this spell is no kindness. It rips a piece from the mortal soul, the piece that ties them to the waking world, and binds—cages them to another for all eternity.”

The shift in his demeanor is immediate, apathy returning with full force, his words a comfort to no one but him, “I can provide them with all they need, this realm is their home”.

The magick user regards him carefully, reminding herself that she is merely a guest within his realm, and it would do her good to choose her next words as if her life hangs in the balance, “For their sake, lord, I hope you’re certain”.

“adligo, copula, ligare”, the mage murmurs, cutting along the tip of her finger—allowing the blood to pool and drip from her hand, smearing it across the altar in offering.

The air above cinders. Ash intertwined by intricate, golden runes, imbued with ancient magick.

A despondent ache, followed by a sickening crack has you stumbling forward.

“My—”, Lucienne gasps, reaching out to steady you, her voice drowned in static fear.

Terror gnaws at your throat, “Lucienne?!”.

Plunged into darkness, the firmness of her hold disappears.

The skin of the realm bends and breaks, dragging you through it. Tearing you apart and piecing you together again, until the firmness of ground deposits beneath you.

A looming silhouette centers into focus. “…Morpheus?”, you mumble, “What happened?”. The air is unnaturally warm. Blades of grass caress your face. Dirt dusts your clothes and skin.

Wisps of hair cling to his forehead as he outstretches a hand toward you, pulling you to your feet in one swift movement. “You are unharmed?”, he asks, scanning your body for any sign of injury.

You nod, reaching to lightly rest your fingers against his jaw, trailing them down his neck and shoulder, until they come to rest in the firm comfort of his hand.

“Are you certain?”, he murmurs, bringing your hand to his lips and pressing a chaste kiss against each knuckle.

You smile at the subtle admittance of concern, “I’m certain”.

Matthew settles on your shoulder in a mess of feathers, beak lightly pecking at your neck to focus your attention on him, “Boss wanted me to inform you that he’ll be back late, he has an important meeting to attend”.

The corners of your mouth turn up at the mocking undercurrent of his tone, “An important meeting… with whom?”

“She’s new— a mage.” The raven shrugs his wings together, hopping between feet, “Dream found her last week and ordered her to perform some type of protection magick”. There’s a split second pause as his beak leans close your ear, as if he’s deciding to include you in on a secret, “Apparently, there were… unintentional side effects”.

“… This protection spell”, your voice wavers, pieces of a puzzle clicking in your mind, “Who was it for?”.

“You’re good at finding things”, you frown, licks of anger settling deep into the lines of your face, shadows twisting at every edge, “Find me a reason to stay”.

Dream clenches his jaw, stalking several large steps toward you, his movements sharp, deliberate. The once gentle light danced in his eyes has vanished. In its place—wrath, utterly pure and unholy, unveiling the nightmare beneath.

“There is no need, I will not keep you here any longer.”

The pain your expression reveals must be more than you’d intended as his eyes shift in conflict, appearing less severe—blurred by regret and guilt.

Morpheus swallows, jaw clicking in discomfort, “I simply wanted you to remain safe”. He sighs, lifting an uncertain hand to brush a stray tear from your cheek, “Forgive me”.

“Spare me your lies, my lord”, an indignant scoff escapes your lips as you shove his hand away, “You sought to bind me to the Dreaming out of nothing but your own selfishness”.

“No”, he argues, fighting to swallow down his rising anger, “I only knew you would be safest here, in my realm, where I could always sense you”.

Moving a step away, you wipe furiously at the tears falling from your eyes, “How could you? How could you aim to repeat what was done to you, to me?”, your voice breaks, “You’re no better than Roderick Burgess”.

Morpheus flinches as if you’d slapped him, pain and betrayal shadowing his features.

“I see”, the sliver of hope that remained has been drained from his words, “Very well, if that is your opinion of me. I will not try to convince you otherwise”.

Hard and unyielding, every inch the Lord of Dreams once more, “You are free to leave”.

A brutal laugh of derision stabs through the air, harsh and brittle, “Free to leave?”, you shout in disbelief, “Don’t attempt to hide what you’ve done, Morpheus. We both know you’ve made that impossible”.

Drawing in a calming breath, you tilt your head back just as rain begins to fall, a soft patter of drops that quickly transform into a downpour. “…What happened to us?”, you ask, barely above a breath, barely above a prayer, “What happened to the dream we shared?”. You make no move to shield yourself, allowing the water to wash away the remnants of your tears.

Morpheus’ jaw goes taut, betraying the turmoil within. “It seems”, he says, his voice hoarse with suppressed emotion, “That dream has come to an end”.

A hollow sound rasps from your chest, heart breaking—unseen, “It seems so”.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you want to be tagged or un-tagged down below <3

The Sandman Taglist:

@alice-the-nerd @leg0city123 @uther-pendragon-is-an-ass @dark-night-sky-99 @mm2305 @luciamajer @lizajane2 @thegreatestsandwich @hyper-half-blood @layla2-49 @raylan-carver @shit-post-things @nerdy-wierdo @mikariell95 @musicconversedance @beakami @poemfreak306 @intothesoul @igotanidea @starlight--darling @secretdreamlandmentality @darkened-writer @cleverzonkwombatsludge

#The Sandman #Morpheus x Reader #Dream of The Endless x Reader #The Sandman x You #Morpheus x Gender Neutral Reader #Dream x Reader #Dream x You #Angst #Fluff #Dream #Dream of the Endless

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 8 months

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I'm stressed because my dog is sick 🥺 can I request for joel or javi fluff, tysm ❤️

Oh, no. I hope the doggo will feel better soon.🥺🫶🏻 And since I haven't thought about agent Pena in a while...

Chokehold

It was so fucking hot in Bogota. Torturous. Not even a fan made a big difference at this point. Only sending waves of hot air in your face. Everyone was pissed off. The cases were stalling. There were no leads. Nothing to hold onto.

Steve let his head fall back, "I am boiling in my own body". You watched him while fanning yourself with a handful of papers, "I have sweat dripping down the places you don't want to know about", you huffed, making the American laugh out loud. It was easy with him. Steve was nothing but a little puppy. One of those men you could easily read.

"Why are we even pretending that we're working", Steve grumbled once more. Your eyes darted to Javi who sat across from you. Frowning as always. Murdering the paper in front of him with his eyes. An idea crossed your mind, "Give me your car keys, agent", you reached toward Javi, and he raised a brow at you, "Come on now, I'm taking you two to paradise", you chipped. "Your bed?", Javi asked, you rolled your eyes, "In your dreams". Snatching the keys from him, you ushered them both up and out of the office.

The windows were fully down, and music was playing. Steve was lying down in the back. You tapped your finger on the steering wheel. Javi was smoking a cigarette, hand sneaking to squeeze your thigh under your dress. "So, any clue as to where you're taking us, carino?", Javi finally asked. "I think she finally figured out a way to kill us and get rid of the bodies", Steve laughed making you giggle as well, "Bingo, now shh..."

The place was pretty secluded. You had found it on one of your hikes. The water was glistening in the midday sun but the side of the lake was beneath the shadow of shadows. "Oh, fuck yeah", Steve breathed out, closed the door quickly, pulling his shirt off as he ran towards the lake. You watched him shaking your head slightly. "You're getting in agent?", you asked turning to Javi, he only shook his head, "I hate water". Of course, you thought to yourself, "Is there something you don't hate?", he only shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the car.

You clenched your jaw. This man could be a serious walking headache when he wanted. But two could play this game. You started to slowly unbutton your dress. Javi held your eye contact, not letting his eyes fall over your body. Oh but you knew that your lacy white set looked great against your tanned skin. Shrugging the material next to Steve's clothes you turned to walk towards the water, "Your loss, I guess".

Oh, you were a sight for sore eyes. Holding back was a challenge for Javi. You two had been secretly dating for a while. Just office romance often got messy so you swore to keep it a secret. He watched you walking in only your underwear. If only Steve wasn't here, he thought to himself. He killed off his cigarette. Ripping his shirt off his sweaty body. Javi managed to catch you mid-walk towards the lake. Quickly swiping you off your feet. You let out a squeal. Hands instantly moving to wrap around his neck as Javi plunged into the water.

The coldness felt so good. You felt your body relaxing instantly. Then Javi's lips were on yours. A silly decision considering that you two were underwater but you two surfaced shortly after. His hands were holding you closer to his chest. You loved him like this. When he let himself go. When he left his grumpy persona behind. "You changed your mind quickly", you muttered, brushing his wet hair away from his face. "You have me in a chokehold, woman", he grumbled, eyes looking for Steve, who was peacefully floating across the lake. "Yet you love it", you nuzzled your nose against his, "Just shut up and kiss me", his rough palms cupped your cheek as Javi pressed his lips to yours once more.

#javier pena imagine #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javi pena x reader #javi pena x you #narcos imagine #narcos x reader

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poke-me-with-a-stick · 1 year

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Chapter 18 of ‘Artificial Wingman’!

For the full story, click Here!

Enjoy!

---

Jason landed soundlessly into the apartment, his tired mind already running through different plans and scenarios. Absently, he tugs his helmet off, running his fingers through his hair as he thinks. He knew that the most logical move would be to get ahold of Harley somehow. If they wanted any chance of finding this teen before something more dangerous happened, then they needed to talk to Harley. Worst case, she dropped Demon Brat's boyfriend off somewhere in Gotham, leaving him to wander around by himself.

Best case, she still had him and was just hiding out somewhere, licking her wounds. If that were the case though, he could only hope that the teen hadn't wandered off on his own. It would be a pain to have to comb through all of Gotham's security and CCTV footage for a teenager who had no idea where he was going.

'I'm getting ahead of myself,' he shook his head. 'First things first, I need to tell Jazz.' Sighing, he turns towards the living room, pausing when he doesn't see the bright ginger haired girl anywhere. "Jazz?" He called out, turning towards his kitchen. Nope, also empty. 'Maybe she's in the bathroom?' The man started down the hall, glancing through the darkened doorways of his apartment. All the doors were opened, lights off, just as they had been when he left.

A bit worried now, Jason hurried back to the living room, rounding the couch in hopes that she had just fallen asleep or something. That wasn’t the case, he found. The couch was empty. A curse slipped from him when he realized she was gone. "Fuck. Fuck!" He groaned, dropping his head into his hands. Damn it! Why did he think for a second that the girl searching for her missing brother would just stay put?

"What are you groaning about, Todd?" Damian asked, slipping through the opened window. The teen must have gotten impatient, waiting for him to return to the roof.

"She's gone." Jason mumbled. The teen scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall, his foot twitching slightly.

"What did you say? I cannot understand your mumbling. Speak up!" Demon brat demanded, glaring.

"I said, she's gone." Jason finally lifted his head from his hands, shooting his own glare at the teen. "She must have figured out he left before we got back or something." Turning his back on the teen, he searched the small space for anything the woman might have left behind. She had to have left a clue, a note or something…

"...bingo!" Jason exclaimed, opening the laptop she had left on the coffee table. Lifting the screen had made a piece of paper fall out, yellow paper fluttering to the floor. He was quick to grab it, crumpling it in his hast as he unfolded it.

Damian hurried over, his impatient yet disinterested mask forgotten as he leaned over his brother's shoulder. After a moment he huffed in annoyance. "What does it say? I can't see it over your shoulders." He hissed. Despite the tense circumstances, Jason felt a small smirk work its way onto his face.

Part of Jason wanted to tease his brother, but the smarter part of him didn't want to be on the business end of a sword. Instead, the man shifted to let the teen see it easier as he read Jazz's neat cursive script aloud. "Jason, if you're reading this, please don't be too mad. The Dot on the screen started moving, and I'm going after it. I'll try to meet you back here. If I don't, these were Danny's last coordinates." Below her neat scrawl, was a set of numbers. He really didn't have to think very long on where those coordinates would lead him.

"Looks like Harley took Danny home with her. Well, that makes things a bit…" Jason turned to look at his brother, only to find the teen gone. He didn't have to be a genius to know where he went. "...easy. Damn it!" He groaned again, fighting the urge to bang his head into something. Why did everyone want to disappear today? Was it too much to ask that someone just sit and talk a plan out? ‘Oh jeez, he was starting to sound like Bruce.’

The man ignored the thought, not really wanting to go down that particular path right now.

Pulling out his phone, Jason scrolled through his contacts until he found the one he wanted. Pressing it, he held his phone to his ear, praying she would pick up.

"...Hello?" A feminine voice asked cautiously.

"Hey, Ivy." The man couldn't help the small, tired grin that wormed its way onto his face. "So, um. Funny story."

—

The city was a blur beneath Damian as he moved, jumping from rooftop to rooftop and running telephone lines effortlessly. He didn’t bother to look where he was going, trusting his instincts to keep him from stumbling as he parkoured through Gotham. Sweat beaded on his brow, trailing down his mask before drying in invisible, sticky paths due to the harsh wind beating at his face.

Distantly, in the back of his mind, a voice that reminded him too much of his Father urged him to stop, to slow down and think this through. Logically, he knew that the best plan of action would be to get into contact with Dr. Isley and Quinn first, to check on Danny’s well-being and to garner permission to enter their home and retrieve him. But he wasn’t running on logic at the moment, was he?

It was almost like there was a haze over his mind, blocking all rational thoughts. Vaguely, he wondered if this was the true effect of the Love Potion, but the thought fled as soon as he acknowledged it, driven off by other, more prominent thoughts. All he could truly focus on were thoughts about Danny. Most of those thoughts were worrying for the teen’s wellbeing, if he was okay, if he had been hurt at all, if he had eaten anything. His other thoughts were about what he would do if he didn't like any of the answers to those questions. ‘It wouldn't be that hard to sneak into Arkham and break Joker's spine, would it?’

After what felt like hours of movement, but in reality was probably no more than half an hour, Damian spotted his target location. Harleen Quinzel and Pamela Ives's apartment was on a less populated side of town, and covered in lush plant life. More vegetation than any other part of Gotham. From an outside perspective, it was probably beautiful, the old brickwork covered in climbing and creeping flowers and ivy, small gaps exposing windows and occasional reddish gray blocks.

A flash of red hair was all the prompting he needed to hurl himself at one of the blank spots of the building. Sadly, the teen's dramatic entrance was slightly dampened when the woman slid the glass open, allowing him to twist and roll gracefully to his feet. The instant he regained his balance, he turned towards the woman, body thrumming with anxious energy even as he stared her down.

Isley blinked at him, her phone held loosely in her hand. After a moment, the shock faded from her expression. The woman sighed and raised the phone back to her ear. "You really weren't kidding, were you?" She asked, sounding exasperated. From where he stood, Damian couldn't quite make out what was said in return, but he did recognize the voice. It would seem that Todd had made that phone call after all. "Listen, thanks for the heads up, but I have to go." Isley turned back towards the opened window, pulling it shut again with a sharp click. "Yeah, I'll call you back in a bit. Take a nap or something until then, alright? You sound exhausted." She hung up, turning back to Damian.

She looked like she was about to say something, probably to address Damain's presence in her kitchen, but the teen was quick to speak first. "Where is he?" The teen demanded.

She gave him a look, one that he was sure she had given Quinn before, before she sighed. "Of course that's what you're here for." She muttered to herself, bringing her free hand up to rub at her temple. Straightening her back, she gestured towards the doorway. "The kid's in there. But there's something you should probably know-" He was off before she could finish her sentence. She growled something behind him, clearly annoyed, but followed him as he darted through her apartment, coming to a stop just at the doorway to the living room. There, laying on an old couch with his head in his sister's lap and two hyenas nudging persistently at his hands, was Danny. All at once, the overwhelming anxiety that he had been feeling all day faded, leaving a content and relieved sort of exhaustion in its wake.

He stood there, shoulders slumping as the tension they held was released, and only really acknowledged the fact that there were other people in the room when he saw a shadow shift out of the corner of his eye. Immediately his guard was up, the teen snapping around with a knife in hand to glare at the person sneaking up behind him. Instead of flinching or running like people usually did when confronted with his blade, Harley Quinn blinked surprisedly before bursting out into loud gales of laughter. The sudden noise caused Jasmine to jump, her gaze darting around for the source of the sudden commotion, which in turn made Danny jolt, the teen letting out a grumbling whine at the unexpected movement. Shooting Quinn a scathing look, Damian turned back to the siblings.

"Danny?" He called out cautiously, inching his way closer to the couch.

Almost immediately Danny shot up, lilting dangerously to the side as he straightened up to the best of his ability. Jasmine gave a startled yelp as her brother began to tumble off the couch, hands outstretched to catch the teen. Damian was faster though, dashing quickly across the remaining space between him and the halfa. Gripping the teen's arms, Damian was quick to pull him back up. Danny didn't even seem to mind that he almost fell to the floor, instead throwing his arms around Damian's shoulders in a poor imitation of a hug, pulling the vigilante closer with surprising strength. "Robin!" He trilled happily, awkwardly clutching Damian as close as possible. "Wh'n d'ou get h're?" His slurred words had Damian shooting his sister an alarmed glance.

Jasmine, who had stood up and moved out of the way, gave him a tired smile. "He was dosed with something. I still don't know what though." She scratched the side of her head in a confused sort of gesture. "Had to be a strong substance, to affect him like this."

Damian nodded, shifting Danny around a bit so that he could sit in the woman's recently vacated seat. Danny twisted with him, spine turned at what would be a worrying angle for a normal person in an effort to keep his grip on the vigilante. With a bit more shifting and cajoling, both teens finally settled down comfortably, Damian sitting upright while Danny laid with his head cushioned in his lap.

With a sigh, Damian let his eyes rove over Danny's relaxed form, taking in the multitude of bandages that covered his wrists and ankles. "Are you alright, Danny?" He asked the teen.

Danny nodded happily, a rumble emanating from his chest. "Y'eh," he grunted, tilting his head down to look over his own body. "I th'nk so. Don' feel an'thing." His hand inched its way up his arm to pick curiously at the bandage wrapped securely around his wrist, only stopping when Damian's hand settled atop of his.

"Don't pick at it." Damian scolded him, bringing his hand back to his side and gently flicking his forehead. The teen pouted in response. The both of them were so entranced in their own little world that they didn’t notice the odd tension that had filled the room around them.

“M’kay~” Danny hummed, snuggling closer to the teen. “M’glad y’re h’re.” He smiled widely up at him, flashing his fangs. “I m’ss’d you!”

Damian couldn’t stop the soft smile that replaced his usual scowl. “I missed you too.” He admitted quietly. If the giggle he got in response warmed his face a bit, well, there was no one to call him out on it. And it would be heavily denied if they tried.

—

"Should we go?" Jazz whispered, having crossed the room to stand next to Harley. The woman merely shrugged in response. Jazz took that as a yes, quickly turning and leaving the room. Harley didn't move from her spot, watching the lovebirds on her couch as Robin fussed over the hazed teen.

"Harley!" Ivy hissed from the doorway. Harley stuck her tongue out good naturedly, but still didn't move. Her girlfriend rolled her eyes before coming forward and grabbing her wrist, gently tugging her from the room.

"Aww! I wanted to watch the lovebirds!" She whined, digging her heels in half heartedly.

"Yeah, I know. But I really don't feel like bandaging you up when Robin runs out of patients and stabs you." Ivy retorted, depositing Harley on one of the kitchen barstools.

Jazz glanced over at her, one eyebrow raised. "Is it bad that I can't tell if that was a serious statement or not?" The redhead asked, a tired grin prominent.

"Ehh," Harley shrugged. "Not really." She stretched out across the kitchen island, tapping a random pattern out on the marble. "But he would have probably stabbed me. He's a very stabby kid." Jazz didn't look the least bit alarmed by that statement, only sighing as she nodded.

"Yeah, that doesn't really surprise me. Danny seems to have a bit of a type, when it comes to people who could probably maim him."

Well, there was most definitely a story there. "Oh?" Harley asked, tilting her head playfully. "I don't suppose you would be willin' to tell me 'bout that?"

Jazz seemed to ponder it for a minute before a sly smile slipped onto her face. "You know what? Yeah, I'd be more than happy to tell you. A little sisterly payback seems to be in order anyways." Oh yeah, Harley liked this girl. "So, a few years ago, Danny had a crush on this girl named Valerie…"

—

Jason sighed, letting his head drop into his hands. Relief warned with his exhaustion as he set down his phone. Damian was already there, probably holed up in a corner of Harley and Ivy's apartment scowling or something, so at least he didn't have to worry about that. Ivy had told him to take a nap, which he was seriously considering at the moment.

Sure, he had lasted a lot longer on much less than three or four hours of sleep, but with all the twists and turns the past day or so had taken? He really wanted to take a break. Besides, it wasn't like Damian and his dimension hopping boyfriend would be going anywhere else tonight. Meeting up with them could definitely wait until tomorrow.

A tap on the window had him regretting being hopeful. Of course, the moment he decides to actually take care of himself for once, the universe throws him a curve ball.

'Maybe they'll go away,' Jason thought hopefully, sitting completely still. The silence stretched on for a few minutes before a second, more forceful tap sounded. The man couldn't help the groan that escaped him as he lumbered to his feet reaching the window in a few long strides.

All the harsh words that itched to get out fled his mind the moment he opened the window. Sitting patiently on the fire escape, with a well worn messenger bag and a classic black duffle bag, was Cass. She was trusted up in her vigilante best, mask hiding whatever expression was on her face.

Jason fought the urge to bang his head on the window seal, feeling his nap opportunity slip further and further away. "Please tell me there isn't a head or something in there." He quipped in lieu of voicing any of his grievances.

Cass's shoulders shook slightly with her silent laughter as she shook her head no. "No heads," she signed. "But something too important to keep at the manor. Damian left this in his room." She held up the messenger bag. "And this is something important." She gestured to the duffle.

Sighing, Jason stepped back, letting his sister slip through. "I don't suppose I could get a nap in before we talk, could I?" He questioned.

She tilted her head in thought. "I don't see why not."

"Awsome." Honestly, he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Will you be okay alone here?"

"Yeah," she perched on his couch, grabbing the TV remote and flipping through the channels. "Take your time, Jason. You look tired."

This was why Cass was his favorite sibling. "You're the best." He told her earnestly, already heading for his room.

She smiled behind her mask as she watched him leave, waiting until she heard the door close with a soft click before turning back to face the TV. 'Yeah,' she thought, pulling her mask off as she settled more comfortably into her spot, ‘I know.’

---

(I know that there are probably some spelling/Grammar mistakes, but its okay because I tried my best!)

For the lovely person who made the prompt for this story, as well as the amazing people who follow along!

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ten-cent-sleuth · 9 months

Text

A Galling Yoke, Part 7

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for the Teacher/Teacher or Both Single Parents square on my July Break Bingo card

See this post for main info, including a masterlist and synopsis. See this post for warnings.

Word Count: 2.4k

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x f!Reader

Rating: Teen

Within the hour of your arrival at Sherlock’s flat, the board he used to lay out cases was filled. Sticking to the efficiency of paper notes and adhesive tape, he had placed the deduced or revealed aspects on the left side of the board and the unfilled gaps on the right side; opting for the fun of push pins and colour-coded ribbons, you wove a bright web across the board.

Purple connected the yet uncategorised ideas and deductions: pieces of the puzzle neither of you knew where to fit, which meant many of Sherlock’s deductions, as “seeing connections is a murky task with so little firsthand and therefore transparent evidence,” as the detective explained.

Green outlined the general facts about the situation with which you two were working: from your scribbled “Edmund had no close confidants but large ton presence” to Sherlock’s “Coltidge hired me”.

Pink bridged each detail of the timeline, with Miss Algar’s recounted beats going on the left of the board and a desperately scrawled “What happened after she lost consciousness? How did S end up with a phaeton and A end up on Cable Street?” on the right.

Yellow highlighted aspects of the perpetrator’s modus operandi that could lead to identifying him, including the meagre but appreciated descriptions Miss Algar provided of the man’s physique and movement.

Red strung together all of the considerations and possibilities of motive—theoretically. At the moment, the red ribbons only connected three pieces of paper on the right side of the board: “For money??”, “For revenge??”, and “For passion??”.

You tilted your head at the little triangle and wondered, “Money is the greatest likelihood, is it not?”

From a few feet away, where he was leaning over his desk, his head bent over a new piece of paper, Sherlock replied absently, “That was certainly my first direction in this case, but I have backtracked. The money Sulyard was skimming from your and his bank account was not to pay off debts: based on Miss Algar’s description of their arrangement, that money was to put up a mistress. The discrepancies were minor but regular, you recall, which would be unusual for debts of honour but fit perfectly with a single woman’s establishment.”

“That does make sense,” you mused. “Edmund would have had to sneak the money out so that Lord Pittford, my father by marriage, would not find out. Edmund still allowed his father to manage his more boring affairs, including his bank account, you see.”

“Singular,” said Sherlock, though he still sounded only half interested. “Ultimately, that means the other common motives for murder are to be equally considered. After all, somebody wrote an incensed letter to Sulyard about ill usage and misrepresentation—a demand, really, to do better or else—and that becomes quite the unanswered question if there is no other sign of substantial debt.”

“Yes, where is that letter? I ought to add that to the board.”

Sherlock waved a hand over his shoulder in a very unhelpful over there motion, concentration remaining on whatever he was pondering at his desk. The gesture reminded you so strongly of being a little girl growing up alongside a little Sherlock—your childhood friend poring over some book and forgetting you were even there until whatever you were messing with to occupy yourself inevitably crashed to the ground—that you almost, almost, refrained from roving your eyes over his now not-so-little form. The chiselled jaw, the wide shoulders, the strong hips, the deft hands, all very well flattered by a smart and confident selection of cut and cloth… No, those you certainly do not remember from your youth.

Shaking yourself, you made a note to self to find the letter later then left the board in favour of seeing what had Sherlock so distracted. “‘What is the maid…hiding?’” you read off of his paper. His penmanship too has certainly improved—er, not that his physique has improved, only developed! “Mrs Kinley? Sir, what do you mean by this?”

At last, Sherlock turned to give you his full attention. “Surely, you also found her dissatisfied with her home and work with Miss Algar. I cannot believe she has not sought fulfilment of some sort on the side: humans are not built for long-term unhappiness, it is only individual tolerance that varies.”

“If Miss Algar is safe and healthy, and the post so unsatisfactory, why must any surreptitious moonlighting on the maid’s part be suspicious?”

“It is more than that; she seemed quite anxious to get us out the door.”

“She did not wish us to come in at all, if you recall,” you reminded him with a teasing smile. “Calling that early is far from the done thing, Sherlock.”

“Why do you fight me, my lady?” he sighed.

“Fight you?” Laughing, you patted his hand in mock consolation. “I do not wish to fight, sir, only to make sure you do not get too accustomed to everyone bowing to your will.”

His nose scrunched in the most adorable fashion, as though he’d swallowed something sour. “I thank you for your consideration, but I believe that is what Enola is for.”

You smiled, remembering your new young friend. “Oh, yes, I can imagine she keeps you on your toes.”

Rubbing his face, he dropped into his desk chair. Your smile wavered as you realised your words had somehow weighed on him, and your concern—and curiosity—was such that you forewent prescribed ladylikeness to move closer and lean against his desk to be near him.

“Sherlock?” you prompted. “What troubles you?”

“Enola.” He closed his eyes and brushed his forehead with tense fingers. “That is, the state of my relationship with her—my being her guardian.”

“Indeed? What of Eudoria?”

After explaining his mother’s disappearance and his brother’s agreement to give up custody, Sherlock said, “I do not doubt that I made the right decision then, but I fear making grievous errors now. On my toes indeed! I know naught about raising a teenage girl!”

“You need not raise her,” you told him with a shrug. “When one’s ward is already six and ten, quite independent, and quite strong, one needs only guide and protect her. Be there for her, Sherlock—be a support and a fallback, and you shall be enough.”

“I know naught about doing that, either.”

Your heart leapt to his defence, then plummeted with the stony reality that you could not disagree with that. If made to choose right now, would you trust Sherlock to be your primary support and fallback? After what happened last time?

Pushing past unpleasant memories, you laid your hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “You can inquire and learn. Surely the great Sherlock Holmes is not opposed to that?”

“No, indeed, my lady,” he said, smiling up at you.

With a solid nod, you let go of him and clasped your own hands tightly to ward away the tingling sensation of loss in your palm. “Meanwhile,” you added, “you may confide in me any doubts or complaints. I know that it feels shallow to bemoan parental anxiety and frustration that one could have left to another, but in truth, such burdens are just as heavy on the shoulders of the one who took them upon themself willingly as on those of the one who had them thrust upon them.”

“Yes…” He watched you sharply. “That you knew one of my great concerns without my breathing a word of it astounds me. How…?”

“William,” you said with another shrug, this one with a weaker bravado. “Our mother having died when we were young and our father being…himself, I endeavoured to be the caring presence and upright role model in my brother’s life. I could not voice my hurt when he railed against me or my worry when he seemed in danger of going down the wrong path, however, for someone would have silenced me for involving myself in what was not my business.”

Sherlock’s gaze was keener than ever, yet it sparkled with realisation, which you could not understand: what had he newly noticed, did he newly comprehend? “Just as I could have left Enola’s care to Mycroft, you could have left that of young Pashbroke to Lord Coltidge. You did not, despite the difficulties, and—I am glad.”

You jolted back ever so slightly. “Glad?”

“Quite glad. I have long wondered at the compassionate gentleness at the core of Lord Pashbroke’s docility, at how he did not end up a fatuous sycophant instead. Evidently, I have your undying courage and your ever-impressive empathy to thank.”

You chuckled first at the picture he painted of what, you were sure, William could never have become, then you giggled at the barrage of compliments that, you were sure, Sherlock could not really mean. Doubt only crept in when the corners of his eyes crinkled with hurt.

“I…” Abruptly, he stood from his chair, and your breath shook in your throat at how much closer he suddenly was. “I hope you know, at least, that I am grateful for your offer of someone who understands the circumstances. I shall appreciate having a fr— No, having you to turn to, when I am uncertain whether I do right by Enola.”

“I was happy to make the offer,” you said, awkwardly but not insincerely. Eager to untangle yourself from this heart-to-heart that you had not expected and were even less prepared for, you scooted to the side until you were no longer leaning against Sherlock’s desk—no longer stuck to it, effectively, by how close he stood and how closely he watched you. “Well, then. Shall I add this piece of paper to the right side of the board?”

He blinked a couple of times, then looked at his desk, picked up the note, and handed it to you in one swift, sudden movement. “So you agree with me now?” he questioned.

“I always did,” you retorted as you searched for a space for the slip of paper. “Did you notice how Miss Algar did not reveal that she could see and understand us until Mrs Kinley had left?” Sighing, you punched in the pin for the new note. “If only our one lead in the flesh did not communicate so limitedly. I feel that we are missing something, that we neglected to ask the one yes-or-no question that could crack this case wide open, and there is no way for her to tell us that.”

Sherlock appeared at your side with unspooled purple ribbon. “There is nothing more stimulating than a case where everything goes against you.”

With an arched eyebrow, you watched him tie the ribbon around the push pin and work the addition into the colourful web you’d been weaving. Once he’d finished and stepped back to take in the board and its dozens of notes, you remarked, “You must be enjoying this case, then.”

“I suppose I must. The case of indirects. Twelve years between witness accounts or physical evidence and us. A middleman between the identifiable victim and the individual with identifiable motive.”

You turned towards him. “What do you mean, a middleman?”

He stared at you for a moment. “Did I not explain that?”

You gave him your most acerbic look. “No. No, you did not.”

“Right. Forgive me.” And how could you not when he looked so boyish rubbing the back of his neck like that? “I have deduced that the character Miss Algar described was a hired killer. The first clue was that the man obtained Sulyard’s schedule so that he could decide his best opportunity to end his life; an educated and cultured gentleman the likes of which wrote that letter—the education and the culturedness are evident in his penmanship and diction, you must have seen for yourself—would not have been able to follow Sulyard to the Younges’ lodgings or other shady parts of town without drawing attention.”

“The gentleman could have hired someone for the investigating, then done the killing himself,” you pointed out.

Sherlock nodded. “The second clue was the restraint and the efficiency apparent on the night of. A first-time killer could not have spirited away a witness and set up an almost perfectly convincing ‘accident’ for the intended victim without so much as a gossiped report of suspicious activity in the shadows. Even before the clean-up of the act, however… The murder weapon was a hammer—a hammer, my lady: the vessel of a man’s blunt force, the symbol of crude brutality—and the letter writer had quite strong feelings about Mr Sulyard. Yet in the dark of night, riding on the inevitable high of power that comes with standing above a person entirely in one’s power, the killer struck his prey only once, and not even particularly violently.”

The intensity in Sherlock’s voice had swept you up into his accounting of events, and you remembered breathlessly what it was to be let into—to be welcomed into—the thoughts of such a brilliant mind.

“All in all,” he concluded, “whoever delivered the killing blow was too professional for me to think he is anything but a professional.”

You smiled at him. “Yes, I see now. I thank you for explaining it to me, Sherlock. I know you do not take the time to do so with everyone.”

“With you, I could do no less.”

Heat rushed to your face, but Sherlock didn’t seem to understand the effect of his words and he rambled on, “Considering the contemptible lack of motive available to us, I believe the direction of this case is to find the hitman in order to identify who wanted Mr Sulyard dead, rather than my wont of discerning why someone was killed to identify who killed them.”

You giggled at the consternation on his face, but when he did not look any less put out by this inconvenience, you stifled your amusement and steered him towards the kitchen.

“Perhaps you only need a small break, dear sir. Shall we see what can be scrounged up for lunch?”

“Hmm. Yes, that may prove helpful. My lady, you have the brightest ideas sometimes.”

“Ha! And I suppose the rest of those times, the brightest ideas are yours?”

“Well…naturally.”

“Quite good fortune that we are a team, then.”

“I would even argue that it is the best of fortune. The very best.”

Thank you for reading. I hope you all appreciated the (sort of) focus on plot this chapter because the next one is going to be completely about the romance—or, rather, the romantic angst hehe… Until then, another cookie to anyone who can point out the Arthur Conan Doyle reference. ;P

#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #henry cavill sherlock x reader #enola holmes #a galling yoke #the dimensions of fandom

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teaberrii · 1 year

Text

Chapter Three: The President's Surprise

You and Cyno can’t be more different. He’s Akademiya’s perfect student council president. You’re a labelled, cursed delinquent who changes into a cat for eight hours when kissed.

When Cyno gets a complaint about you, he’s forced to take action, only for it to lead to unexpected circumstances.

Cyno/You

Notes:

Cross-posted on Ao3

Chapter index at the end of chapter one

The last thing Cyno imagined to happen this weekend was a family camping trip with Kaveh. But here he is. Kaveh and Nahida are in the backseat, laughing at what Cyno assumes are funny TikToks or reels. Cyno is in the passenger seat, hoping Alhaitham won't go crazy from the two in the back.

It was almost the end of the week when Nahida announced that she had invited Kaveh and Alhaitham to camp this weekend.

“Don’t they have a conference this weekend?” Cyno asked.

Nahida smiled. "They did, but it got cancelled!"

"What's so funny back there?" Alhaitham asks. "You two have been laughing at something for the past ten minutes."

Kaveh puts his phone away. "Sorry, sorry. We'll show you later."

"Do you like cats, Haitham?" Nahida asks.

Alhaitham glances at her in the rearview mirror. "Where's this question coming from?"

"Because we were watching funny cat videos!" Nahida then turns to Cyno. "Cyno's not a cat lover."

Cyno looks over his shoulder. "Says who?"

"You had no reaction to them when we visited the adoption center a few months ago!”

"What did your parents say when you asked them about getting a cat, Nahida?" Kaveh asks.

Nahida crosses her arms. "... They don't trust me with one yet."

"Pets are a lot of work," Alhaitham says.

"You're supposed to be on my side!"

As Alhaitham and Nahida bicker over pets, Kaveh leans forward, taps Cyno's shoulder, and asks, "So? Did you really go to The Red Sand?"

"The Red Sand?"

All eyes and ears are on Cyno, and he shifts uncomfortably in his spot.

"Why did you go there?" Alhaitham asks.

Kaveh answers for him. "He's investigating a student."

Cyno almost rolls his eyes. He should’ve known that Kaveh couldn’t keep a secret. Alhaitham glances at his cousin suspiciously. “Investigating a student? What for?”

"... There's a student getting complaints from the others. So I'm looking into it."

“Ooh, but if she goes to The Red Sand, she must be something,” Nahida says. “At least you came back alive.”

Cyno gives her a deadpan look. "I plan to continue doing so."

“You’re going there again?” Kaveh asks.

Alhaitham pulls into a line of cars, waiting to get into the campsite. “... I think I know the student you’re talking about.” Then, he says your name. “It’s her, right?”

"Bingo." Cyno glares at Kaveh, and the man responds with a small smile. "He's going to find out eventually."

“I talked to her a few times.”

“You did?”

Alhaitham chuckles. "It's the first time you are in perfect sync. This girl must be something."

Cyno clears his throat and puts his elbow against the windowsill. “... What did you talk about?”

Alhaitham laughs softly. “She wanted some help on an assignment.”

Cyno considers the possibility of you telling a professor of the feud between you and that student. He glances at his cousin. But, knowing Alhaitham, it's not like him to leave a student in trouble, especially if that student did nothing wrong.

“Is she the one you fretted over a few days ago?” Nahida asks Cyno as Alhaitham rolls down the window to talk to the man handling the registrations for the campsite.

Kaveh laughs. “Fretted over? Didn’t know she was causing you that much trouble, Cyno.”

Alhaitham grabs the paper for the campsite, rolls up the window, and the car slowly rolls forward. "Is this about what happened last semester?"

Cyno glances at him. “... Do you know something?”

"I know just as much as everyone else."

Nahida glances from Alhaitham to Cyno. Then, she turns to Kaveh and whispers, “What are they talking about?”

Kaveh pats her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Nahida frowns but decides to let it be.

Once Alhaitham pulls up to their spot and parks the car, the group gets to work on setting everything up. By the time they finish, it's nearly late afternoon. Alhaitham is getting out the food, and Nahida is resting by reading on a folding chair. So, Cyno and Kaveh go to get firewood. They're heading back to the campsite when Cyno hears a familiar voice.

"This took forever!"

Cyno looks past the trees and sees you and the child he saw before come out of a tent.

"Well, well, look who it is," Kaveh says quietly. The men hear the sound of sizzling meat and see Jebrael barbequing not too far away. "Is it just the three of them?"

Cyno remembers the accidental photo posted to the class group chat. Are people suspecting you're in a relationship with Jebrael? Maybe even have a child with him? Is that why people are spreading pictures to get you kicked out of school? Cyno sighs softly. Even if the answer to all his questions is yes, why is it any of their business? He looks at the man. Maybe it's the dangerous vibe he gives off. He clearly doesn't skip workout days and could easily compete with Alhaitham in physical strength alone.

“... Are you going to go say hi?”

Cyno looks at Kaveh. “I think you’re the one who wants to go say hi.”

“Gosh, did you really have to call me out like that?”

Cyno crosses his arms. “Are you curious about her now, too?”

Kaveh puts a hand on Cyno’s shoulder. “I won’t steal her from you. Don’t worry.”

Cyno's eye twitches out of annoyance, but he decides not to talk back. Instead, he walks in the other direction while Kaveh gives you one last look before following him.

Once they're back at the campsite, Nahida waves them over. Alhaitham finishes seasoning everyone's food and starts putting the plates on the table just as Kaveh and Cyno put the firewood down.

"Guess who we saw not too far from here?" Kaveh asks, sitting at the table.

When he says your name, Nahida gasps. “Does this mean I get to meet her?”

"She's not alone. There was a man with her."

Kaveh looks at Cyno, who sits across from him. "Do you know the guy?"

Cyno remembers the name the child called him. "... Jebrael?"

Alhaitham turns around. "Who?"

"Jebrael," Nahida says. "Do you know him, Haitham?" Then, she takes a bite of her food.

Kaveh slowly chews his food as Alhaitham joins them with his own plate at the table. "Something on your mind?"

Finally, Alhaitham says, “He’s the one my friend defended… in court.”

“In…” Kaveh begins.

“Court?” Nahida finishes.

Alhaitham looks at the group. "… He was sentenced to jail for killing someone."

Kaveh and Nahida drop their food onto their plate. Cyno almost did, too.

"He k-killed someone?" Kaveh asks. He looks in the direction of your campsite. "... That would mean we're staying near a criminal."

"Did your friend already know he killed someone when he defended him?" Nahida asks quietly.

Alhaitham looks at her. "I don't know the details. The case was kept very lowkey. Even the media had trouble getting information."

"... This is a little scary."

“So… what’s a student like her getting involved with a criminal?” Kaveh asks in disbelief.

Cyno takes a bite of his food. It seems like the more he knows, the more questions he has. He looks at Alhaitham. “How did your friend know about the case?”

“He said someone reached out to him about it. Didn’t give a name. Just thought he might be interested in taking it.”

“This is so suspicious,” Kaveh says. “What’s with all the secrecy?”

“How did you find out about it, Haitham?" Nahida asks. "Did your friend tell you about it?"

"He was looking for some advice. Didn't tell me much either."

Nahida wipes her hands on a napkin. "Don't tell me you gave him lame advice like believing in your client, right?"

Kaveh laughs. "Even if he did, Jebrael still got convicted, which means… he really did kill someone."

“What he was really looking for was to make sure he was making the right decision,” Alhaitham says.

“... Which is?” Cyno asks.

“That he was defending the right person.”

"Defending the right person?" Kaveh asks. "The man killed someone, and you're saying your friend defended the right person."

"This is why you would make a terrible lawyer, Kaveh," Alhaitham says. "Feelings have no place in court."

"You told him to look at the evidence, didn't you?" Cyno asks. "The evidence never lies."

"Unless it's fabricated," Nahida says quietly.

Cyno looks at her. "Jebrael wouldn't fabricate evidence that would get him convicted. If anyone was fabricating evidence, it had to be the plaintiff."

Kaveh sighs. "My head hurts."

“Did you know she was involved with him?” Cyno asks Alhaitham.

“You mean Y/N? No.”

“... Hey,” Nahida says. Everyone turns to her. “Can we talk about something else now? I’m here to relax… not come up with theories or speculations about other people’s lives.”

“Fair.” Kaveh stands. “Anyone up for swimming?”

An hour later, Cyno walks out of the water while Alhaitham and Kaveh are still giving Nahida swimming lessons. As Cyno runs a towel through his hair, he checks his shirt, which was soaked thanks to Nahida, and decides to take it back to the campsite to dry. He drapes the towel over his shoulders and starts heading back... until he sees you gathering firewood nearby.

He approaches you and asks, “... Need some help?”

You quickly turn around. Surprise is written all over your face. "Prez?" Cyno notices your eyes subtly wander down his body before you look away and clear your throat. "Is this part of your job, too? Sneaking up on students?"

"If I wanted to sneak up on you, I wouldn't have said anything... Catnip." You frown at the nickname as he comes up beside you. Then, you narrow your eyes. Cyno knows exactly what you're thinking. "Contrary to what you may think, I'm here with my cousins and a friend."

“Is that so?” Then, quietly, “I guess you like to camp shirtless then.”

Cyno glances down. “... Does it bother you?”

You turn to him. “What kind of question is that?”

He looks you in the eyes. “A valid one.”

You, however, avoid his gaze. "You're free to do what you want." Then, as he helps you pick up firewood, you steal a glance at him. "So, where are your cousins and this friend of yours?"

“... Doubting me, are you?”

“For all I know, you could be out to kill me.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

"For the sake of the other students." You said it with a soft laugh, so Cyno assumes you're joking. But, even if you are, he wants to clarify one thing.

"I like to believe there's a reason why you punched that student." You slowly turn to him. "Until I know what actually happened"—his eyes meet yours—"I won't let anything happen to you."

You blink once. Twice. Then, you laugh. "I, uh, I appreciate the kind words, Prez. But rest assured that I can take care of myself."

“I know.” He puts some firewood on his shoulders. “If you didn’t, I don’t think you’d still be here.”

You smile slightly. "Glad we're on the same page for once."

“For once?”

You shrug. "Clearly, you aren't a very good listener. Last time, I told you to leave me alone. Remember?"

"... But then I called you Catnip, and you got flustered."

“I did not get flustered.” Then, quietly, “And stop calling me that.”

"Well, you haven't given me your name."

You frown. “Why do I need to do that? You know what it is.”

“And you know mine. Yet, you continue to call me by something I don’t want to be called. How is that fair?”

You quickly look away from him, and Cyno almost smiles. He got you there. Suddenly, someone calls your name, a voice that Cyno does not recognize. He turns around and sees a man who's just as tall and big as Jebrael.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, eyeing Cyno suspiciously.

"Everything's fine, Rahman. This is my classmate," you say, looking at Cyno. Then, you turn back to him. "I'll be back soon." Rahman gives one last look at Cyno and nods. Then, when Rahman walks away, you turn to Cyno. "Well, it was a surprisingly pleasant talk, Prez. I'll see you around."

But, just as you turn, Cyno grabs your wrist. You look over your shoulder, and he nods at the firewood on his shoulders, "... You're not just going to leave me with all this firewood I was collecting for you, are you? I'll walk you back."

You look at his hand around your wrist, and Cyno lets go. Then, your eyes meet his. "Alright. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Cyno follows you to your campsite and sees Jebrael, Rahman, and the young boy sitting around a bonfire. Jebrael, however, stands as soon as he sees Cyno.

"He comes in peace," you say.

It's not every day you come face to face with a criminal. Cyno would be lying if he said he wasn't a little nervous. Still, he notices you seem very relaxed around the two men, treating them like old friends.

Cyno puts the firewood down. But, as soon as he turns around, he sees the two men staring at him.

"Is he the one you were talking about, Jebrael?" Rahman asks.

“... Yeah. He’s the one.”

You step in front of Cyno and say, "Thanks, Prez. You can leave now."

Cyno looks past you at the two men who don't look like they will back down anytime soon. He glances at you. "... Are you sure?"

“Is he really a classmate?” Rahman asks.

The child hops off his chair and walks up to Cyno. "You didn't tell anyone about her secret, did you? Because… because that would be bad if you did."

Cyno gets at eye level with him and says, "No. I didn't."

The boy smiles and turns back. "I don't think he's a bad person."

Jebrael comes up beside you and says, "I heard you're investigating her."

"... I didn't put it like that," you say quietly.

He steps closer to Cyno. "I'm keeping an eye on you, kid. If you do anything—"

"Trust me when I say that I mean her no harm," Cyno says. "If you want more reassurance, I wouldn't benefit from telling her secret, anyways."

Rahman smiles. "The kid ain't scared of you, Jebrael."

Jebrael looks at you. "... Who did you say he was again?"

"A classmate."

"A friend."

You and Cyno look at each other as Rahman laughs. "I believe the kid. If you're just classmates, how are you two so in sync?"

"A coincidence," you mutter. Then, a sigh. "Anyway, you should go. Your cousins might be looking for you."

Cyno takes one last look at Jebrael and Rahman and leaves the campsite, not knowing that he's piqued the interest of everyone there.

When Cyno returns to his campsite, Kaveh is the first to say, "Where did you go? We thought you got kidnapped or something!"

Nahida also playfully adds, “I hope the mosquitos didn’t get to you while you’re walking around like that.”

Alhaitham tosses Cyno a shirt. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

This time, the group sits around a small fire. Kaveh has just finished his cooked corn when he looks at Cyno. “So, what took you so long?”

“... I bumped into Y/N.”

Silence.

Finally, Nahida asks, “... And? Did… did he show up?" Then, suddenly, the group hears a rustle in the bushes. "W-what was that? You heard that, right?"

“It’s okay, Nahida,” Kaveh says. “It’s not like we’re the only ones here.”

After a short moment of silence, Alhaitham says, “Whatever it was, I think it’s gone now.”

Nahida sighs in relief just as Kaveh asks, "Well? Did you meet the guy?"

“Yes.”

When Kaveh and Nahida gasp, Althaitham looks at them. “You’re being a little dramatic, don’t you think?”

Kaveh leans forward. "And? What happened next?"

"... Nothing."

"Nothing?" Kaveh asks skeptically. "You're telling me he didn't... I don't know, tell you off or something?"

"Alright. That's enough," Alhaitham says, standing with his plate. "If you have time to gossip, you have time to wash the dishes, Kaveh."

The man rolls his eyes and grumbles about something doing all the chores back home, but he gets up nonetheless. Cyno's about to dig into the rest of his food when he hears his phone buzzing inside his pocket. He takes it out and sees that he has a new friend request. When he opens it, a ghost of a smile flits across his features.

I guess we're friends now.

He doesn't hesitate to accept the request, knowing exactly what name to save the new contact under.

From now on, you're officially Catnip on his phone. Besides, it's not like you would know.

Chapter Four

End notes: MERRY CHRISTMAS! I can't believe I actually made it in time for Christmas, but I did. *shoots confetti*

Tag list: @lxry-chxn @lordbugs @suoshiii @seirenspinel @sketcheeee

#cyno x you #cyno fluff #cyno genshin impact #cyno x reader #genshin impact

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incorrectbatfam · 2 years

Note

Weirdest nightmare everyone had?

Dick: He went apple picking with Wally when they discovered a trap door hidden beneath one of the trees. The door led to a tunnel sculpted out of garbage and rat bones, and at the end was a taxidermy Riddler controlled by pulleys and spouting ancient curses. Wally peed his pants and they both hightailed out of there, only to fall into a pit trap filled with dead fish.

Jason: He died again but this time he was brought back by someone who wore all the Lantern rings at once and broke reality, but then were was a version of him in each other and they had to wrestle for dominance (it was a three-way tie between green, blue, and pink).

Tim: He and Bernard were getting married at the courthouse (with Kon and Cassie as witnesses and Bart bathing in the chocolate fountain in the background) and upon getting on the flight to their honeymoon Bernard reveals himself as 7,000 hornets in a flesh suit

Damian: Titus was elected mayor of Gotham but at his inauguration speech Jerry the Turkey attempts to assassinate Titus's vice mayor, Harley Quinn's hyena Lou. Jerry was then arrested and taken to Riker's Island where he was isolated in his own cell for being a danger to society and Damian could only visit him one time before his execution date on Thanksgiving.

Duke: He and the family went to the Renaissance faire where they were in the front row for a jousting tournament, but one of the jousters chickened out at the last minute and they needed someone for the show to go on, so Cass volunteered Duke and the organizers wouldn't even provide him with armor—they just gave him a lance and told him to get on the horse.

Cullen: He was doing his homework in the kitchen when a mysterious figure in a trenchcoat knocked on the back door. He opened it and the person handed him a package wrapped in police tape with wires jutting out. He then took it inside and got out his AP Bomb Defusal textbook, which only told him to run.

Stephanie: She worked the closing shift at Batburger and had to clean the bathrooms, but when she was cleaning the men's room, a gust of wind locked the door behind her. Then, the lights started flickering and ectoplasm poured out of the urinals like a waterfall while a chorus of voices cackled all around her.

Cassandra: She went to see a James Bond rerun in theaters, and she bought a whole pizza and seven bottles of Dr. Pepper from the concessions. The theater was empty, and when the movie started playing, it was overlayed with the Simpsons theme song. Somebody tapped her shoulder, and she slowly turned around to find an eyeless Homer Simpson beckoning her for a slice of pizza.

Barbara: She got a job as an accountant for the Dunder Mifflin Paper Company but Dwight kept breathing over her shoulder while she was organizing their expenditures, so she whacked him over the head with her stapler, accidentally killing him, so she called Jason to hide the body in the walls

Harper: She was hired as a construction worker on the newest subway line in Metropolis, and she had to build the above-ground tracks that went over the cars. Except it wasn't sectioned off, so she had to work with trains passing by every five minutes and one of them sucked her lunch box under the wheels.

Carrie: She was riding her bike around a cookie-cutter suburban neighborhood at night when a sports car pulled up and asked her for directions, but the address was her own house. She gave them the wrong directions and went home, but when she got there the car was in her driveway and the front door was wedged shut, and inside she heard the sound of a hundred parakeets roaming freely.

Kate: She was volunteering at an old people's home and was leading the bingo game. After only the first number, someone yelled bingo and she investigated them to discover their bingo card was all one number. That person was arrested and taken for questioning by the FBI, where Kate discovered that he was responsible for an international illegal bingo card ring and now had a vendetta for her specifically.

Alfred: Tupperware was outlawed and everyone had to store leftovers in plastic bags, and there was a fire pit in the middle of town square where all the confiscated Tupperware was ritually destroyed and he got arrested for rescuing an innocent baby condiment cup.

Selina: She was back at one of the first museums she ever stole from and there's a ruby necklace in a glass display. Harley was lookout while Ivy waited outside with the getaway car. Selina pulled a sledgehammer out of nowhere and smashed the case, setting off nuclear alarms. She took the necklace and ran, and they barely made it into the getaway car, but the police were right behind them and they were forced to swerve into the woods.

Bruce: All his kids were gathered around his bed with glowing eyes and speaking in tongues. Then, Damian pulled a scroll from under his robes as Dick lit gingerbread-scented incense. Dick handed the scroll to Bruce, whispering, "Share this forbidden knowledge with no one." The kids disappeared in a puff of smoke and when Bruce opened the scroll, it read, "Selina clogged the toilet."

#ask #anonymous #batfamily #batfam #batman family #dc comics #headcanon #tw just in case

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geraskierbrainrot · 1 year

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This is a collection of fics, canon or AUs, where Geralt and Jaskier have a meet-cute — a cute, charming, or amusing first encounter between romantic partners

Flirting (Wasn't Flirting) by TheArtistFormerlyKnownAsG | T | 1k

Sugar and Spice Witcher bingo Prompt: wrong date

Fire Lizards and Flirting by @wherethewordsare | 1k | G

Out on an ecological survey, Geralt has to fish a handsome stranger with a lute of all things out of the river. Roach is a big goofy Great Dane and responsible for the need to fish the guy out.

sweet tooth by willkinnie | 1k | G

so basically, a few days ago i was trying not to think abt an upcoming dentist appt, ergo new dentist geralt trying his best to make everyone comfortable and jaskier that has to deal with it. that's it. that's the story.

Up to Date by @lambden | 2k | G

"You were so hot that when you asked if I was the blind date you were looking for, I lied and said yes. But then your actual date comes up to introduce themselves and I'm so embarrassed." for Geralt/Jaskier.

sideway spirits by @julek | 2k | T this work is part of a series but can be read as a standalone (though I recommend the whole series)

“Got anyone in today?” He wonders, nodding to the dark green door that leads to the mortuary downstairs. “The paper says there’s been a car crash. ”Geralt shakes his head. “No one in yet. But I’m sure they’ll start coming soon.”

Weird Fishes by @aalizazareth | 3k | T

Jaskier doesn't think he has a superpower until he meets Geralt, who can't believe he's finally met someone who's able to see him.

Signs and Dogs by @dahliavandare | 3k | T

While jogging with Roach, Geralt meets Jaskier and his dog.

→ and the subsequent Geralt and Roach, Jaskier and Baby series

Don't Look a Gift Gobling in the Mouth by @yoursummerfrost | 3k | G

“No, I’m serious, I really do have like, uh—a goblin… thing… in my house!” Jaskier insists. “Will you come take a look at it? I don’t want it to, I don’t know, eat my liver or something?” Geralt massages at his temple. “Very few monsters are that picky. It would probably just eat all of you.” Aka: The one where Jaskier hires Geralt to investigate a monster in his house, and the outcome is somehow better and worse than Geralt expects.

Never Been in Love Before by jesskier | 3k | T

Geralt takes his dog, Roach, for a walk and meets his new neighbor.

Meet-Cute for the Socially Anxious by @freyjawriter24 | 4k | T

Jaskier liked people, but he also didn’t like people, and now he was on his way to a house party where there were very definitely going to be a lot of people. Most of which he didn’t know. Ugh. University was a stressful place. *** Modern everyone-is-human AU where Jaskier and Geralt meet at a uni house party and bond over D&D. Inspired by The Amazing Devil's Drinking Song for the Socially Anxious.

all roads lead to tranquility base by seasofglass | 4k | T

Jaskier needs some promotional photos for the launch of his new album, but as much as he loves composing new music, posing for the camera makes him a nervous wreck. On top of all, he's saddled with an unconventional photographer who claims he'll be able to show Jaskier a new side of himself. Navigating his feelings of anxiety and attraction, Jaskier remains skeptical that the photographer can deliver on his promises.

Sweet as Chocolate by @xianvar | 6k | T

“I don’t think that’ll be your next hit,” blue-haired-regular says apologetically. Jaskier is coming up with a witty reply – he really is – when he notices the figure in the back corner, seated underneath the broken lamp Valdo has been “about to fix” for weeks now. White hair, a scar over his right eye, uncomfortable gaze fixed on a large cup of coffee – it must be chocolate-voice, and Jaskier is ready to bet his favourite guitar on that. He’s even more swoon-worthy than his imagination has made him out to be. Jaskier temporarily forgets all his words, to the point that he only nods agreeably when Valdo says, “Fuck it, make yourself useful if you’re done; I’m gonna go take a leak.” Jaskier enjoys his lot in life – he has friends, a job that he loves, and all the opportunities to flirt that he could ever want. Until a gorgeous white-haired man starts frequenting Jaskier’s little bakery-slash-café and turns his whole world upside down.

hold my hand, show me something sweet by ghostiewritesthings | 7k | T

“You alright?” The other man groaned, bringing his hands up to cover his face. He screamed into his palms for almost a full minute, and Geralt let him, waiting patiently to the side. He’s been there. Eventually, the stranger stopped and took a deep breath. He left his hands over his face. “Never been better.”

a dream is a wish the heart makes by @dear-galileo | 12k | T

the last thing geralt had expected to do was meet a prince in the woods. no- the last thing that geralt expected to do was fall in love with the prince, and make a deal with a witch to see him again. (cinderella witcher retelling)

Show love to all these authors by leaving kudos and comments, and happy reading! And thank you for all the appreciation on the last rec list, I hope you enjoyed it all ♡

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic #geraskier fic recs

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sabraeal · 10 months

Text

Tenderness Like a Bruise, Chapter 2

[Read on AO3]

Took a small break from frantic bingo writing to make this for @puffdragongirl‘s birthday! Robin asked for MORE OD ANA, and since I had always meant to continue with this fic...I was happy to tack another chapter on!

The petal and wings of Wisteria may burst across this man’s throat, but he’s no royal messenger Od Ana’s ever seen. Too young, for one; his pale hair fluffs out from his scalp like a chick’s feathers, kind that shouldn’t be wandering so far out from under their mother’s nethers. His daemon’s been ridden hard too, her flanks heaving the way an experienced rider would never allow.

Still, she’s got enough spirit in her to give Od Ana one of those wall-eyed stares, the kind that shows white all around. That’s what they get, having their reputation precede them like it does. The prince’s messenger and his witch daemon. Sometimes he’s got her so far away you can’t even see her. Can’t trust a man like that.

They’re lucky that daemon doesn’t take more after a horse and balk for the shock of it.

Ah, but whatever she thinks of its bearer, the bad news is stamped with the royal seal all the same. “There’s the message. From the prince himself!”

There’s a certain amount of pomp to these things; the messenger holds it out, a little square that can’t have much more than a handful of lines scrawled on it, and bows like it’s some lordly edict. And for all that, Obi sits back in his hips and takes it, opening it with little more than a flick of his wrist.

There’s a trick to it, of course: apply the correct amount of force at the right angle and wax sheers from the sheet without even clipping the Wisteria wings. But messenger boy doesn’t know it; he just stands there gawping like he just fell off the wagon, impressed by nothing more than a party trick. Od Ana hopes for his sake he learns to hide it better. There’s plenty of thorns in Wistal’s garden that would enjoy having a bumpkin in their pocket. The king, for starters.

“Ah, but also...Sir Obi...on my way here...”

Od Ana glances up, claws flexing over collarbone, and, ah, she’s seen that wide-eyed gaze before, that starry shine. She may have no name to put to a face for him, but it looks like whatever reputation has wended its way back to Wistal has more in common with Hiro’s hero worship than city folk superstition.

The messenger’s reedy voice drops to a whisper. “I heard news about the string of attacks on noblemen.”

Obi glances up, the bristle of his hair brushing her feathers. “Oh yeah? A new development?”

“Well...” Under Obi’s direct attention, the boy shies the way young men do at a pretty girl’s doorstep. “They say that the lead suspect is, ah...”

Hisame Lugis. The name springs to her beak on reflex, instinct. She’s only seen the man once, malingering at the edges of a ballroom, but she’s heard enough about that little ladder-climber to know he’s the sort that wouldn’t be shy sharing a few knives to the back among friends. Especially if those lucky pals were thinking about putting their grubby paws on the same heiress of Seiran.

“...Sir Mitsuhide Lowen.”

The papers flutter to the cobbles, Obi’s hands boneless above them. “What?”

Obi might have a memory like a steel trap, but between the two of them, it’s Od Ana who reads faster. She hunches over his shoulder, skimming the prince’s sloping script, and still, she can’t put it all together, can’t make it make sense. The lords, the murders, Sereg, Mitsuhide. Maybe from a distance the edges blur into a big picture, like one of those fancy paintings in Wistal’s galleries, but from here, on the ground, she can’t see it. Can’t see how anyone would think a man like Mitsuhide Lowen would send another man to do his dirty work. Dust, that he’d have dirty work to begin with.

She’s got a hundred thoughts buzzing in her head, each more nasty than the last, but Obi doesn’t say a word, doesn’t do anything but lean over the stone and stare out over the plaza. Shirayuki’s down there right now, with Ryuu too, and neither of them know, neither of them could even suspect...

Her beak clicks, annoyance biting at her like mites. “You aren’t actually thinking of going.”

It’s not a question, it’s a hope. A blind one, flung out into the wind as an attempt to slow their descent. Because she already knows the answer: he is. And the longer he says silent, the more sure she becomes.

“Don’t.” It’s not in her to plead. Birds don’t have knees, she’d always say-- not where Shirayuki hear-- but, oh, Obi has enough for them both. What’d be nice is if he could stop getting on them. “Zen hasn’t even asked for you.”

“He has.” The words roll off his lips just like that first step he took in the forest. Playful, testing the edge of his limits, flirting with the promise of pain. The next one will be worse, she knows, and the next, all the way up to when it suddenly isn’t. To when it’s all gone. “There’s no other reason for Master to send another guard up here.”

Not unless he’s already expecting Obi to come sit at his heel. That’s how these Wisterias work, of course: everything written between the lines. Obi wouldn’t be sagging underneath his sir if he wasn’t fluent in it. If they both weren’t.

Doesn’t mean she has to like it.

“We have something good here.” And she’s not ready for that sting again, for the burning in her chest as another bond breaks, left to die somewhere out in snow. “Something real. There’s no reason to give that up to--”

“They need us.” One corner of his mouth lifts, helpless. “And if we turn our back on them now, on Mister...”

His shoulder lifts, and oh, she knows that hopeless look all too well. If we don’t go, his smile says, then we aren’t who she thinks we are.

The worst part is: he’s right.

“Shirayuki,” Suzu observes, far too mild. “Your flask is going to boil over.”

“What? Oh!” With a blink, the apparatus comes into focus, and ah, yes, that is too rigorous a roil when she’s looking for something just a hair above a simmer. “Ah, thank you.”

His shoulders shrug the way a hanger might, all wires and sharp edges, coat surviving through sheer hardiness of the fur. “Don’t mention it.”

And just like that, he walks away. No, ‘gee, Shirayuki, what’s got you so distracted?‘ or ‘is there something on your mind?’ Hermia gives a sympathetic blink, but she doesn’t so much as croak to slow him down either, just sits on his shoulder like a moss does on a log while he wends around the lab, aimless.

Shirayuki sighs, turning the valve on her burner until the flame flickers at a much cheerier orange. Fiddles with the legs on her alembic’s stands for good measure too; anything to keep her mind from drifting back out to the market, to the stairs she’d watched for nearly half an hour before Suzu came to distract her with work. His work, specifically, but it had been better than sitting on cold stone and wondering.

“Worrying,” Perkunas hums, paws catching her around the ankle. “You’d been worrying. Like you are now.”

“I’m not,” she snips, because she isn’t, not at all. It’s just that Obi and Od Ana exchanged one of those glances of theirs before they left, the kind that came just before a blizzard blew down from the mountains, or before adopted brothers climbed up a balcony to steal her away to the mountains. The kind that said trouble was coming, and they’d have to put themselves right in its path.

Not that she’s been turning that over in her head all afternoon. She hasn’t. It’s just been there, tugging at her thoughts the same way Perkunas tugs at her patience, siphoning off gulps of her attention until--

Well, until things boil over. Which she’s half tempted to do as well, if Perkunas can’t leave her hem alone. “Oh, honestly,” she huffs, ducking down to glower at him. “Aren’t you supposed to be the wise one?”

He only stares back, all glossy eyes and innocence, as if one of his claws weren’t already caught around a stitch. If only she were Od Ana, she could click her beak right at him and let him know just how close he’s coming to her limit, and--

The lab door clanks against the shelves, her only warning before an all-too familiar voice calls out, “My Lady!”

It’s impossible to tell who cries “Obi!” first, but it’s Perkunas who trundles down the stairs so quick it yanks at their tether, hard enough that she hits a hip against the table trying to follow. She hobbles over to the top of the staircase just in time for his head to butt into Obi’s shin, and oh, she feels that all the way back in her mouth, molars jittering together with every descending step.

The hand that scritches behind Perkunas’s round little ears is thoughtless, a habit, but when Obi stops in front of her, smile stitched poorly into place, the space he leaves is purposeful. For a moment, she wishes he might reach for her, might catch her elbow in a palm, but instead he turns to a spooked Suzu and lilts, “Sorry about that. Mind if I whisk her away for a minute?”

“Uh?” Suzu glances between them, wide-eyed. “Go ahead.”

Hermia ruffles her feathers, all mouth when she adds, “Doubt we could stop you.”

It’s Od Ana’s place to click her beak, to drawl a clear, you got that right, but--

But she’s not here. And that, more than anything, makes her breath catch, makes her practically gasp out, “Lead the way.”

It’s strange to see Obi how the guards must, his back to the pillar and arms folded, all his usual warmth filed away for professionalism. Perkunas scampers after him, parking his round bottom right over one of his boots, and-- and it’s the sort of thing that might make her laugh, if he could meet her eyes.

“According to the messenger--” Obi’s voice echoes in the empty hall, a low, rasping thing made for grim conversations and even grimmer secrets “--the royal guard is sending a messenger to Sereg to basically put Mitsuhide under arrest.”

“That’s...” Her tongue plumbs the cavern of her mouth, suddenly strange with unfamiliar words. “That’s absurd. H-how? Why?”

One of his shoulders shrugs, the lazy sort he used to do back when he spent more time hanging down from trees than with his feet on the ground. From when she used to wonder if he had a daemon at all. “The decision is based on the testimony of this knight, Taws.”

And who is he? she wants to ask. How is his word worth so much more than a man like Mitsuhide’s?

All she manages is a strangled, “Mm.” Partially from the anger constricting her throat, and partially--

Ah, well, it’s distracting for Perkunas to paw at him like that, hopping around and bapping at his waist, enough that the wool scratches at her own hands. And when Obi bends down, scooping him up...

“Master didn’t mention any of it in his letter,” he grunts, arranging the chubby body over his shoulder. Perkunas trills, the round dome of his head bonking into Obi’s jaw once, twice, before he figures out how to fit beneath it, like a child who had long outgrown a lap but is loath to admit it. “So I guess he probably hasn’t heard. Yet.”

Shirayuki smooths a palm over her waist; it does nothing for the phantom press there, nor the one just behind her thigh, but, well, it’s hardly unpleasant. “Ah...”

His gaze meets hers over Perkunas’ head, and oh, it would be nice if she could fit as neatly, if only so she might be held when he says, “I’d better look into it.”

Perkunas grunts, annoyed. “Why?”

Obi’s mouth pulls thin. “Because I know for a fact what kind of person Mitsuhide is.”

That steadies her, makes her knees feel more solid than commissary jelly. “Yeah,” she breathes, giving her head a stiff nod. “So do I.”

“What about us?” Perkunas whines, wiggling in his arms. “Do you think they might come after us?”

Obi’s grip stiffens, eyes pulsing wide.

“I won’t let that happen,” he promises, pulling Perkunas closer. He gets another head butt for his troubles. “You just stay here in Lilias, the both of you.”

“But--”

“Okay.” It’s a betrayed look her daemon turns to her, his clownish face rumpled in a grimace, but she just stares at him, serious. “We’ll stay put, if that’s what will help.”

Obi lets out a sigh, his whole body slumping down the pillar in relief, Perkunas cradled tight against his chest. “Yeah, it sure will.”

His head lifts, and Perkunas wiggles again, squirming until his back half plops on the the ground, front paws still clinging to Obi’s shoulders. “Anyway, you little sausage,” he laughs, scrubbing him behind the ears. “If they were gonna threaten Master through you, it wouldn’t make sense to go round about it like this. No--” his brows tilt, thoughtful “--they’re after him and the aides. I’m sure of it.”

“I don’t like it.” It’s so easy for Perkunas to say those things, to play the petulant child when he’s all clumsy cuddles and funny faces. If she tried-- well, there’s a reason she doesn’t. “Couldn’t you just tell them...?”

“Nah, they’ve got enough on their plate. This is my job.” Obi presses his head to his, serious as he says, “So I gotta do it.”

Perkunas sits back, arms hanging sulkily over his belly. “All right,” he whuffs, put out. “If you gotta.”

“That’s the thing,” Obi says, smile too tight. “I really, really do.”

It’s easy to keep her head when it’s all just...logistics. Shikito still has to arrive from Wistal, and Obi has a handful of leads he can chase all from the leisure of his desk. Permissions to seek as well, not the least from Makiri, who won’t be happy to see one of his most experienced guards snatched out from under him right before inspections. The more she doesn’t think about dates or times, the further it seems, like that lunch she keeps promising Izuru or Suzu’s thesis defense.

But when he leaves her in that hall by herself, begging off to go send off a few notes before dinner, it’s--

It’s real. Too real. And much, much too close.

There’s a fluttering by the window, a golden shape taking form on the sill, and all it has to say is, “Shirayuki,” and--

And that’s enough. Her eyes blur, and with a single step she buries her face into Od Ana’s breast.

“I’m not crying,” she tells her, because she can’t be if feathers catch the tears before they ever fall. “It will all be fine. I know it will be.”

“Of course,” Od Ana agrees, beak nuzzling at her hair. “It can’t be anything else.”

And oh, how nice that would be, if only either of them believed it.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #my fic #creatures of a brief season #daemon au #ans #AS PROMISED Od Ana being The Most Annoyed with her human #i'd been wanted to take this all the way up to when he jumps off the wall #but alas it was not to be #at first i wasn't sure if i wanted to put Shirayuki POv in what was supposed to be Od Ana's fic #but it just made more sense #logistics-wise #since Od Ana is just being huffy outside the window right now #like okay great you tell her you're leaving #cuz i ain't helpin'

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phanfictioncatalogue · 6 months

Text

Fics With Titles That Start With B (3) Masterlist

part one, part two

baby, if you wanna try (ao3) - sunflowerwitches (orphan_account)

Summary: wearing jewellery doesn't work in phil's favour when he sees friends that he hasn't seen in a while and they automatically assume he's engaged. engaged to dan

baby, you could be the death of me (ao3) - manchestereye

Summary: “don’t make this weird, idiot. stop looking at my ass when we crawl.”

dan and phil are detectives who “hate” each other.

or, b99 au (kinda) and dnp are sarcastic little shits that spiraled a rivalry over some misunderstandings.

Back Seat Bingo (ao3) - existingcourage

Summary: Phil, a young television and radio personality lands Dan, an upcoming producer as a co-worker. Friendship is inevitable, but what happens when life, love, and fear gets in the way? A 1950’s Phan AU.

Back To Zero (ao3) - intoapuddle

Summary: One weekend, one house, five people, a recent breakup; Dan wasn't exactly thrilled, but he was going to show up for his friend, even if it meant having to share a bed with a stupid guy that sided with the even stupider guy that broke his friend's heart.

Bad at Being Straight (ao3) - Masterread

Summary: Ace!Phil and very gay Dan slowly realizing they may be more than friends, but Phil's not entirely sure how that's going to work out...

Bang Me Like Those Drums (ao3) - Analphancones

Summary: Phil is the drummer of a band, but how will the lead singer, Kevin, feel when he walks in on Phil banging his younger brother Dan as hard as Phil bangs his drums?

Barbie Horse Adventures (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Sometimes friends force you to get over your worst fears, sometimes you meet your soulmate in the process.

Bardic Inspiration (ao3) - dickiegreenleaf

Summary: Dan is a travelling bard looking for a safe place for him and his beloved horse to spend the night. Thankfully, the local tavern owner, Phil, can offer him one.

Because of Reasons (ao3) - adorkablephil (kimberly_a)

Summary: There’s always a reason why … so they come up with compromises. Or, Dan and Phil go out for a fancy dinner to celebrate Phil’s birthday.

been about you, since i met you. (ao3) - smallbump

Summary: Dan is the boy at school that makes Phil's heart jump and do a flip at the same time.

begin and never cease (ao3) - palomeheart

Summary: Dan is a grumpy second year law student living with reclusive, perpetual grad student named Phil. When the holiday season brings out a side of Phil that Dan’s never seen before, Meanwhile, when Phil finds out Dan hates all things festive, he makes it his goal to change Dan’s mind before Christmas. And also to find the perfect mince pie.

be sure to ring the doorbell (ao3) - frostbitten_cheeks

Summary: Dan’s a tired sports reporter. Phil’s a friendly vampire with no real sense of boundaries, a propensity for bad Dracula jokes and a habit of leaving his unconscious victims in Dan’s kitchen. This isn’t how Dan thought courtship goes, but he’ll take it.

be the shift of cornerstone (ao3) - frostbitten_cheeks

Summary: Japan is eight days of sushi and beauty and unwinding and Dan thinking of marriage far more than is necessary.

Black And White (And Screaming Color) (ao3) - mysticstargirl

Summary: the one where Dan is a teenager admitted to the hospital after his lung cancer hits a particularly nasty bump, and he hates it- but a beaming, beautiful, bright-eyed nurse named Phil Lester makes everything a bit better.

Dan is shades and layers of grey-black-white, but Phil is screaming color. The world is printer ink on cheap paper, Dan is thick, messy acrylic paint on rough paper, and Phil is pastel, watercolor stains on hot pressed canvas.

Everything fades with time, even masterpieces.

black butterflies and deja vu (ao3) - kae_karo

Summary: Once upon a time...there was a little boy, his name was- well, that’s not important. There was a little boy, and he didn’t have lots of friends.

But don’t worry, this isn’t a sad story, even though it sounds like it, I promise.

blue can be kind, too (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: A tale of being scared, starting fresh, and making your first ever friends after experiencing violent bullying.

Or rather, four-year-old Dan's first day at his new kindergarten.

Breeze (ao3) - sarahjean

Summary: Usually Dan is the one sitting awake at ungodly hours of the morning quietly pondering all the usual things. Death, our career, our future and so many other things. Now it’s my turn. For me, I always lead towards our future. Our lives after this second tour is over. The plans we made over a glass or two of wine. All the big things that are incredibly amazing to think about.

Bring Me Home From Hell (ao3) - the_unwritten_ruler

Summary: It’s an important moment for Dan when he finally perfects the ritual for summoning a demon, but he gets a lot more than he bargained for when he sets the creature loose on his life.

Broke, Gay and New in Town (ao3) - natigail

Summary: Dan Howell was in dire need for a change - he hated his job and his life and he just felt stuck. His grandfather’s letter was a blessing that came with an incredible gift: A farm. Dan had no idea how to run a farm but he was willing to give it a try.

He arrived in Stardew Valley with few expectations but even so, he could never have imagined he would encounter magic, otherworldly creatures, corporate conspiracies, so many queer villagers, a secret destiny and right at the centre of it all the love of his life.

broken porcelain (put me back together baby) (ao3) - Tarredion

Summary: Dan wakes up - in pain, in little tiny pieces he can't make any sense of.

And Phil's out for the day, not there to take care of him while he lays in bed, contemplating the universe and why his goddamn brain has to spread its pain to the rest of his body on his worst of days.

#phanfiction #phanfictioncatalogue #phan #phanfic #masterlists #ficsb #ficsb masterlist

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stardancerluv · 2 years

Text

Blossoming of a Shy Violet

Part 21

Summary: Eddie wants to take care of his girl.

Warning/Notes: Warning/Notes: 18+ only! Explicit & harsh language. soft!dom!Eddie, teasing, Eddie & Reader do some underage drinking (Do not do this!) Oral! M receiving…deep!throating, alot of FLUFF…and a peak at some angst…and Smut!

It runs a little long…but it pays off. I also really wanted to see one scene in their own povs, because of what it leads up to!

Feedback & ❤️s are welcome…along with re-blogs! Want to be tagged? Please, let me know! I have a Joseph Quinn Master List (👈🏻click here to find it!)

“Bingo.” Eddie whispered as he found a couple of cans of Chef Boyardee. He put them down on the counter. Kneeling down, opening a few doors, he found the cabinet that held the pots and pans. One crashed as he grabbed the one he wanted to use.

“Eddie!?!”

He popped his head up. “I’m ok!” He smiled and gave you a thumbs up.

“Ok, good!” A startled expression washed over your face, you gave him a weak . “You sure you don’t want any help?”

“Nah, I’m good sweetheart.”

“Alright!”

He went back and found a wooden spoon to mix it all with. Opening a drawer, he found neatly folded napkins. “Seriously?” He muttered but still grabbed two.

Walking round the kitchen’s island, he finally found some plates. Finally, he opened another drawer, he smiled finding the silverware. They were really nice, no surprise. He had only ever seen sets like this in nice department stores. He took out some for you and him.

Eyeing a small intimate table in a corner, a breakfast nook he reasoned as he brought all that he found over. “Perfect.” He whispered.

Going back to the kitchen, he pulled the tops off the cans and poured the noodles and sauce into the pot. He kept an eye on it, stirring it so that it would not burn. He wanted to make sure this would be just right.

He placed the spoon on top of the pot, before he went over to the loaf of Italian bread. The paper crinkled loudly as he opened it. Taking out the loaf, its fresh scent made his stomach churn wonderfully in hunger. He tore of pieces from the loaf and placed them beside the plates.

******

Actually, you had thought better of it and started dabbing in a small little story. You figured you’d at least get the idea down. It felt good to be working on a story again.

A few pages in and a loud crash that made you jump. “Eddie!” You called out, looking over.

Your heart raced at the sudden sound but you smiled when Eddie popped his head up. “I’m ok!” He gave you a thumbs up.

You grimaced. “You sure you don’t want any help. You popped the pen closed, and slid it and the notebook to the side of you. You were prepared to help.

“Nah, I’m good sweetheart.”

“Alright!”

You watched him for a few moments, he could look so cute as he focused. Grabbing your notebook, you paused. You put your notebook back down and sliding off the sofa, you crawled over to the small cabinet. Excitement filled you, at the titles you could see. Opening, the glass door your fingers ran over the vhs tapes. There were many great titles. Seeing more in the back a huge grin spread across your face.

Nightmare on Elm Street, The Thing & The Shining, you took them out and laid them on the coffee table. You hoped he liked horror movies. You certainly did. Eyeing the cable box, you turned the channel to three so it would be ready. Perhaps, after the two of you were done eating Eddie and you could pop one in. You’d let him choose.

Stretching, you soon climbed back up onto the sofa. Bringing your knees up, you rested your notebook on your thighs; you began writing again. Words, sentences easily came together for your new story. You even jotted down a few more ideas so you wouldn’t forget anything.

******

Luckily, it really didn’t take too long for the noodles and sauce to start bubbling. He stuck his pinkie in and hissing, he pulled it immediately back. “Ouch!” He wagged his hand around.

Opening a drawer, and grabbing a kitchen mitt, he picked up the pot. He doled out the portions, he made sure to give you an extra scoop. Stopping at the sink, he rinsed off everything.

He considered the drinks in the fridge. Glancing, he eyed what drinks were in the fridge. Looking over the drinks, who knew what tomorrow would bring. So grabbing two bottles of beer he brought them to the table. Being struck with an idea, he found some glasses. Carefully, he poured your beers. He wiped his hands on a dish rag. Before he came and to get you, he dimmed the lights.

Coming over he saw you scribbling away. Taking a seat on the arm rest, he just watched how your eyes moved over the page, how you paused and bit your pen. Making a sound that was more sound then actual words, you shifted where you reclined.

As you took more of you in, he swallowed seeing all of you. Your bare legs were drawn up, the skirt sat on your hips. Between your legs, he could spot your cute panties just barely concealing your sweet little pussy. The sight before him made his stomach tightened. You were certainly his flower.

Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around your ankles. “I got you.” You squealed and wiggled.

Giggles erupted from you. “Eddie, you got me.” You wiggled, raising an eyebrow. “What are you going to do now?”

His thumbs caressed your ankles. “Usher you off to the dinner I made us, little blossom.”

“Oh! Good.” You tossed your notebook, near the vhs tapes. You went to move. “Will you let me up?”

He chuckled. “Maybe?” You wiggled again, giggling more before he finally let you go.

Jumping off the arm rest, he bowed dramatically and offered you a hand. “My lady.” He smiled up at you, while still bowing.

“Thank you.”

“What is this I see?” He spotted the vhs tapes on the table.

“Eddie!?!”

He popped his head up. “I’m ok!” He smiled and gave you a thumbs up.

“Ok, good!” A startled expression washed over your face, you gave him a weak . “You sure you don’t want any help?”

“Nah, I’m good sweetheart.”

“Alright!”

He went back and found a wooden spoon to mix it all with. Opening a drawer, he found neatly folded napkins. “Seriously?” He muttered but still grabbed two.

Eyeing a small intimate table in a corner, a breakfast nook he reasoned as he brought all that he found over. “Perfect.” He whispered.

******

Actually, you had thought better of it and started dabbing in a small little story. You figured you’d at least get the idea down. It felt good to be working on a story again.

A few pages in and a loud crash that made you jump. “Eddie!” You called out, looking over.

Your heart raced at the sudden sound but you smiled when Eddie popped his head up. “I’m ok!” He gave you a thumbs up.

You grimaced. “You sure you don’t want any help. You popped the pen closed, and slid it and the notebook to the side of you. You were prepared to help.

“Nah, I’m good sweetheart.”

“Alright!”

******

Luckily, it really didn’t take too long for the noodles and sauce to start bubbling. He stuck his pinkie in and hissing, he pulled it immediately back. “Ouch!” He wagged his hand around.

Opening a drawer, and grabbing a kitchen mitt, he picked up the pot. He doled out the portions, he made sure to give you an extra scoop. Stopping at the sink, he rinsed off everything.

He looked over the drinks in the fridge, who knew what tomorrow would bring. So grabbing two bottles of beer he brought them to the table. Being struck with an idea, he found some glasses. Carefully, he poured your beers. He wiped his hands on a dish rag. Before he came and to get you, he dimmed the lights.

Reaching out, he wrapped his fingers around your ankles. “I got you.” You squealed and wiggled.

Giggles erupted from you. “Eddie, you got me.” You wiggled, raising an eyebrow. “What are you going to do now?”

His thumbs caressed your ankles. “Usher you off to the dinner I made us, little blossom.”

“Oh! Good.” You tossed your notebook, near the vhs tapes. You went to move. “Will you let me up?”

He chuckled. “Maybe?” You wiggled again, giggling more before he finally let you go.

Jumping off the arm rest, he bowed dramatically and offered you a hand. “My lady.” He smiled up at you, while still bowing.

“Thank you.”

“What is this I see?” He spotted the vhs tapes on the table.

“Possible movie choices for later.” You smiled brightly.

Eddie’s eyes lit up. “I like the sound of that.”

******

“So Dustin and the others are back tomorrow.” Eddie stuffed some of his food into his bread and took a bite.

You nodded and stabbing at the food before putting a forkful into your mouth. You took a sip of the beer. “Do you think we will have to go somewhere else?”

He stuck his thumb into his mouth and sucked off the sauce, shrugging. “To be honest. I hope not.”

“Me too.” You added.

He smiled brightly. “Look at the very least we still have one more night here.” He reached over and squeezed your hand. “This is our own little oasis during all of this.”

You nodded. “Sounds wonderful.”

He simply wanted the two of you, to just be a bunch of kids. As much as he hated struggling with homework and the teachers, he’d give anything to have that as his only stress. Well that and being a good guy for you.

“I am sure that we will.” You replied with your own smile back at him.

He grabbed his glass, and clinked yours. “To having a good night.”

“To having a good night.”

******

Taking over a corner of the sofa, Eddie got comfortable. He was feeling a very good. A warmth filled him. Having a full stomach, a delightful buzz from the beers and having you cuddled up, was perfect.

******

You tucked yourself into his side as The Shining began to play. “Have you seen this before?” He asked glancing down at you.

“I tried. I couldn’t get past the scene with the boy fainting.”

“Well, this is one of the best horror movies.”

*****

“Oh? He’s a writer?” You asked excited, a little later.

He bopped you playfully on the nose. “Just like you.” He made a face. “Well, maybe a little like you.” He chuckled.

You giggled. “But I don’t know if I’d want to stay in a place with that kind of history.” You glanced at the screen before looking back at him.

“I’d only be there if you were with me.” Your heart swelled at Eddie’s words.

*****

Feeling very, very good you don’t know how but you and Eddie were now three beers in. The movie was creepy but not scary. You were enjoying it though.

Without thinking, you eased yourself down to his lap, resting your head there. You felt as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “My restless little nymph.”

Seeing all the snow in the movie made you shiver. “Wow, I couldn’t handle all that snow.” You whispered.

“I couldn’t either,” He smirked down at you. “We’d just have to stay in bed to keep warm.”

“Oh really?”

He nodded.

“I think we should just do that regardless if there’s any snow.”

His smirked. “I like how you think.”

He moved his hand up from your hip, and soon you felt his fingers in your hair. It had been a sweet distraction as his fingers idly moved from your hip, to your stomach and back again. The light drumming of his fingers kept you enraptured.

“Eddie?” You looked up at him.

“Yes?”

You smiled and giggled. “I am getting a little warm.” You gently pulled away from Eddie and stood up. Your legs were wobbly as you grabbed the edges of the cardigan and pulled it up and off.

“Oh look at you naughty minx, taking your tshirt off too.” He smirked and reaching for you, pulled you close.

He pressed kisses against your hip, as he looked up at you. “Take your panties off for me, little blossom.” Sitting back, he stopped you. “Let me look at you.” You were so beautiful.

Sitting back, he stopped you. “Let me look at you.

You turned a little and twisted a little, as you held the hem of the pleated skirt. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Aw, is my sweet girl tipsy?” He rose an eyebrow as he looked up at you. You nodded.

Grabbing the bottle from the table beside him, he finished it. He looked incredibly enticing. The flutters at the sight of him made in you, made you giggle once again.

“Maybe?” You gave him a sweet smile, once again reaching out and this time, he pulled you down onto his lap. You wiggled in his lap. When you did, you felt him. You grew wetter.

Letting your eyes close, you rocked against him. You mind began to wander. You remembered his raspy voice, and how his slender fingers filled you earlier.

Their kitchen to be exact. And you were mere moments ago touching yourself, here. The memory pulled a sound from within you that you couldn’t repress. You felt as Eddie’s fingertips, brushed some hair behind your ear. “Is my minx, remembering how incredibly naughty we were?” He asked in a hushed whisper. It made you tremble.

“Yes.” Leaning in close you pressed some kisses on his throat. Inhaling, you could smell the soap, the shampoo he used. It caused more flutters in you. “Eddie, I would very much like to enjoy you.”

Saying it aloud. Knowing, he would most likely be thrilled made the ache between your legs grow.

******

When Gareth had dated that red head, for a hot minute he had mentioned how nice cuddling and watching a movie made everything worthwhile. At the time, he thought that was Gareth being a virgin was where that sentiment had come from. But now he knew what he meant. So with you leaning against him, while watching The Shining was very nice. He loved how you felt, how you would look up at him.

Nestled close, he kissed the top of your head. “My restless little nymph.” He whispered. You giggled as your eyes met. As you settled your head in his lap, made him hard but he would just let it be. This was far too exquisite of a moment not to enjoy.

“Wow, I couldn’t handle all that snow.” You remarked.

“I couldn’t either,” His lips curled into a smirk as he met your eyes, his stomach knotted making him harder, as he imagined what he would love to do with you, if ever remotely snow bound. “We’d just have to stay in bed to keep warm.”

“I think we should just do that regardless even if there’s any snow.”

His heart beat harder. “I like how you think.” He sucked in a breath. He gently moved his hand on your hip, feeling your body made his breath catch.

Turning, you met his eyes. It made him harder. “Eddie?”

“Yes, little minx?”

Your soft lips curled into a smile, before you giggled. “I am getting a little warm.” He watched you pull back. Your legs, wiggled a little. It was cute. The beers had made him fuzzy and warm as well. As he watched you grab at the edges of the cardigan before you pulled it up and off, it reminded him of how he saw you danced around your room in his hoodie.

“Oh look at you naughty minx, taking your tshirt off too.” There you stood in just the pleated skirt and bra. He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to you, and pulling you close. He immediately kissed the curve of your hip. So soft and sweet smelling. His little blossom.

He looked up at you. “Take your panties off for me, little blossom.” Sitting back, he stopped you. “Let me look at you.” You were so beautiful.

He had his fair share of fantasies, his magazines like Heavy Metal had pages splashed with curvy naked women, here and there. But right now as you stood before him, you were far better then any of that. Even his fantasies as he’d jerk on his cock was nothing compared to how you now in front of him

You turned a little and twisted a little, as you held the hem of the pleated skirt. You couldn’t stop yourself from giggling.

“Aw, is my sweet girl tipsy?” He rose an eyebrow as he looked up at you.

You nodded.

He continued to look up at you. Grabbing the bottle beside him, he up ended it. Finishing it.

You giggled once again. “Maybe?”

This time as you shimmied before him, he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and pulling you onto his lap. He exhaled as you wiggled against him. These jeans were growing terribly tight again, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he felt you grow wet against him.

He watched as you closed your eyes as settled against him. Gently, he brushed some hair behind your ear. He couldn’t resist being exceptionally naughty to you. He loved seeing how you’d react. What he could pull out of you.

“Is my minx, remembering how incredibly naughty we were?” He whispered.

If he wasn’t already hard enough, but feeling you grow wetter and tremble just furthered him pressing harder against the zipper of these jeans.

“Yes.” Your voice was so breathy and very sexy. Feeling as you pressed along throat it was incredibly erotic. He felt your breath before you spoke. “Eddie,” You whispered. “I would very much like to enjoy you.”

He made a soft sound. “Yes, little minx. How would you like to enjoy me?”

He smiled as he felt you tremble before your hands reached between the two of you. “I want you in my mouth, Eddie.”

“I would like that very much, little minx.”

He inhaled, as you slipped onto the floor in front of him.

******

The carpet was plush and soft underneath you. Tugging and unzipping his pants made his stomach churn hotly. He shifted where he sat to help you in pulling down his pants and underwear.

“My little minx.” You heard him whisper.

Your stomach delightfully churned. He was so hard, he bounced against his stomach. You easily dragged your tongue up his length and as you reached his tip you twirled your tongue around him. A soft sound came from you as you lightly lapped away the pre-cum that came to the surface.

“Oh Eddie.” You whispered as you met his eyes.

Easily you slid your lips down him. His tip just barely touched the back of your throat, pulling a gasp from you, as you pulled back up his length. You felt as his fingers entwined in your hair.

You released his hard length with a pop, you gathered your breath. Meeting his eyes which were alit with his passion.

Soon, with the aid of his fingers in your hair you began to move your mouth up and down his length. Above you, deep moans came from him. They made you incredibly wet, your ache sharping. He felt so incredibly good as he grew even harder.

“That’s my sweet minx. Just like that.” He encouraged, as his body shook.

Once against you freed him from your mouth with a pop. “You feel so good in my mouth.” You sat back on your ankles.

Blinking, his breathing had shallowed and yet, a slow smirk curled his lips. “Would you like to take me deeper and longer?”

The smirk was like an arrow of sharp desire that landed between your legs. A soft deep sound came from you as you licked your lips. “Yes.”

“We can go slow. And if you don’t like any of it, we can go back to how you were doing it?”

“Alright.” You whispered, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear as you gazed down at his length.

You a few times as you felt his hand, gently drew your face up. “I am being serious little minx.” He gently dragged his thumb across your bottom lip. “This will be one of the roughest things we have done thus far, and I want you to know I am serious.”

“I understand Eddie.” You smiled.

“My good girl.” He praised, his thumb caressed your cheek. “You see this.”

His fingers fell over his hard length, you watched as he wrapped them around himself. He moved his hand easily, up and down him. He was still slick from being in your mouth.

You watched as he bit his bottom lip, and closed his eyes briefly, before opening them once again while he met your eyes. “Only you, my little sweet blossom has ever made me this hard.”

You trembled. “I am eager to continue making you feel good.”

*******

“My sweet little minx, then let me feel that sweet mouth of you again.”

You nodded, going back on your knees you smiled at him. He held himself for you. Gently, you lapped at his tip, before just taking it into your mouth. Your fingers replaced his. While his fingers were once again entwining in your hair. You enjoyed gently sucking at it his before sliding down his length.

“Ready, to take more of me blossom?”

“Yes.” You said and yet it was more of an gargled sound of agreement.

The sound made his stomach tighten. He had always been curious when he had first heard about deep throating but he never thought he’d ever know or experience it.

Gently, as you began to gasp. He could feel you already moving further down on hm. “Yes.” A soft moan came from him. “That’s it little minx. My good, sweet girl.” He encouraged. “Breath through your nose, that will help.” A deep sound came from him. “Yes, like that.” You sputtered and coughed, pulling back up on him.

He watcher as you took several deep breaths. You licked away at the salvia clung on to your lips, which were growing puffy. Oh it was so sexy. Your shiny eyes met his. “How are you my sweet girl?”

“Feels so good.” You took him once again into your mouth.

“That’s it. That’s my sweet girl, I know you can take me even deeper this time.”

He strained and tightened his grasp of your hair. He shook as you for a moment, just bobbed up and down his length. “My sweet tease. Are you gonna try and make me cum, before you take me deeper?”

A moan softly, poured from his lips and yet somehow managed to still give you a playful look. And he felt as you did take him unbelievably deeper. “Yes, there you go.” He groaned.

He called out, trembling as he felt your nose nestle his springy curls at his base. “Yes, yes right there” He panted, “It feels so good to be buried so deeply into that lovely throat of yours.”

Helping you, he began to move in and out of your throat, your mouth. He panted as he slid in and out of you.

He gasped, moaning. “I am getting close little blossom. I want to cum in that sweet mouth of yours.”

You managed another kind of sound of agreement. “Is that ok with my little minx?”

Your lips slid up and off his hard cock. “Yes. Oh, I want to taste you, feel as you cum.”

Barely, able to hold himself. He was so close, just on the brink. Gently, he guided you back onto him.

You began sliding up and down him. “Yes. Yes, just like that.” He strained, clutching your hair. Shaking, he threw his head back. Your name broke his lips as a moan. He came hard, one hot spurt after another shot into your mouth.

“I love you, I love you.” He moaned, panting those three words he never thought, he’d ever utter to anyone.

He melted into the soft. His hand eased from your hair, and came to rest beside him on the sofa. You were quiet for a moment. A small kernel formed in his stomach, he wasn’t one to be so vocal about these kind of emotions. For a brief breath, unease let itself be felt.

As a pang went through him. He remembered how in what now felt like a lifetime ago, you had not wanted to form any relationships, any bonds since you were always leaving.

He watched as you climbed up to him. He held out his arms to you. You cuddled close, as you did he could feel how hard your heart beat in your chest. “You love me Eddie?”

He couldn’t help but notice how flushed you were. He saw where a few tears had managed to escape as you had struggled but did so good taking him so deeply

He took one of your hands, and kissed it. “Yes. My sweet blossom.” He swallowed.

You wiggled and hugged him tightly. Your eyes were alit when you met his eyes. “Eddie?”

“Yes.”

“I love you too, I love you.”

His heart melted hearing you say it. He kissed you then, he didn’t care if he could still taste the residue of himself. He wanted, he needed to kiss you.

Moving as he did so, he really didn’t even know how he had managed to do so but he did it. He had gotten you onto your back. Laying between your legs, he made a soft sound. He could feel how incredibly wet you were. It made his cock stir, despite just having cum so hard.

“There’s my sweet blossom.” He pressed a quick kiss against your lips. “I enjoy you being under me like this.” He tilted his head as he looked you.

“I like you on top of me too.”

Running a hand up your leg, he reached between the two you. He cupped your sweet little pussy. His palm barely touched you, and it was slick with you.

He made a deep sound. “So how shall I make you cum little minx?”

“Well, this is one of the best horror movies.”

*****

“Oh? He’s a writer?” You asked excited, a little later.

He bopped you playfully on the nose. “Just like you.” He made a face. “Well, maybe a little like you.” He chuckled.

You giggled. “But I don’t know if I’d want to stay in a place with that kind of history.” You glanced at the screen before looking back at him.

“I’d only be there if you were with me.” Your heart swelled at Eddie’s words.

*****

Feeling very, very good you don’t know how but you and Eddie were now three beers in. The movie was creepy but not scary. You were enjoying it though.

Without thinking, you eased yourself down to his lap, resting your head there. You felt as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “My restless little nymph.”

Seeing all the snow in the movie made you shiver. “Wow, I couldn’t handle all that snow.” You whispered.

“I couldn’t either,” He smirked down at you. “We’d just have to stay in bed to keep warm.”

“Oh really?”

He nodded.

“I think we should just do that regardless if there’s any snow.”

His smirked. “I like how you think.”

“Eddie?” You looked up at him.

“Yes?”

You smiled and giggled. “I am getting a little warm.” You gently pulled away from Eddie and stood up. Your legs were wobbly as you grabbed the edges of the cardigan and pulled it up and off.

“Oh look at you naughty minx, taking your tshirt off too.” He smirked and reaching for you, pulled you close.

He pressed kisses against your hip, as he looked up at you. “Take your panties off for me, little blossom.” Sitting back, he stopped you. “Let me look at you.” You were so beautiful.

Sitting back, he stopped you. “Let me look at you.”