#Not that anyone asked but the colour scheme comes from the second gif

[reikurusu]

"Oh... It was today"

August 10th 1997 - Happy 26th Birthday, Rei!

[moriartyluver]

FALSE LOVERS CHAPTER XXVI

TIK TOK..TIK TOK..

William looked up towards the clock on his university office wall, putting his pen down. 

'It's about time..' he thought to himself. Standing up from his seat as he opened his door 'I wonder how they're doing.' 

As he walked through the quiet corridors, he noticed a figure passing by at a corner he was a few steps away from turning. Peering past the wall, he noticed the back of a woman, (hair length), (hair colour) hair visible from behind. 

A smile crept onto William's face upon seeing none other that his wife, walking to the same lecture hall he was to enter. A childish idea came to mind. William walked faster, sneaking up on (Name) whilst concealing his footsteps, a trick he had once learnt from none other than Instructor Jack.  He approached her, wrapping an arm around her waist as his chin rested on her shoulder. 

"Ah!" (Name) pushed him away, turning around to see William who had been shoved against the wall, trying to hold back his laughter. "William! You-" 

"Did I frighten you, love?" He asked between chuckles. (Name) furrowed her eyebrows in annoyance. 

"N-No..of course I could tell it was you.." she lied, gaze averted. "But if I was unaware, you could've given me a heart attack...don't do that again." 

"My apologies dearest," William laughed, standing up straight and walking beside (Name) "You're 'completely not frightened' reaction was just too much to resist." 

She shoved his shoulder, somewhat playfully "I'll get you back, I promise." She insisted before asking "Are you going to the exam hall?" 

"Indeed I am," he nodded "I assume you are too." 

"As a mathematics professor, it would only be appropriate." She said as they approached the hall in question. "I looked over the paper whilst I had the chance, you really have no mercy, do you?" 

"I wouldn't expect talks of mercy coming from you," William said, opening the door to the silent lecture hall 

"What is it that your implying?" She raised a brow, her tone much quieter. William simply smiled, bringing her to the front of the hall as the sound of pen to paper sped up, seconds before the end of the exam. 

The sleeping invigilator suddenly awoke in time, standing up as he spoke "Times up." 

"It's over for me.."

"I think I failed as well.."

"Thank you for watching over this exam, Mr Rambo," William thanked. 

"It's no problem," The grey haired man said "I'm retired anyways." 

As a majority of the students flooded out of the exam hall, a small group of boys approached (Name) and William. "Professor Moriarty, Professor (Last Name), there's no way anyone in the maths department could ace that exam!" 

"Especially the last proof..isn't it on that topic you're studying now..?" A black haired boy with spectacles added 

"Even you couldn't solve it?" A freckled boy whispered in surprise. 

"Yeah.." he pushed up his glasses "The last problem was the only one I couldn't wrap my head around." 

"I did tell Professor Moriarty to go easy on you all," (Name) said, giving William an 'I told you so' look. "Still, I'm sure you'll all do fine...and even if you don't, you can use this as a learning opportunity." 

Once all the students had left, William put the papers away in an envelope while (Name) sat on his desk, looking over the mark-scheme with narrowed eyes. Within the quiet hall, footsteps echoed. (Name) turned her attention away, as did William. The figures face was practically invisible with the bright sunlight radiating for the windows, but once he spoke, it was clear who he was. 

"Professors~" He sang, holding his crumpled exam paper "Did I pass your test?"  

"Sherlock?" "Mr Holmes?"

"Yo!" he grinned approaching the couple "Can't believe you two are both teaching in university at your age!" 

"I can't believe this, you really took the exam amongst the other students?" (Name) asked, fighting back a smile while William scanned the detective, much less amused "I'd have thought we'd spot you, but I suppose not." 

"Here!" Sherlock handed her the exam "please mark this for me." 

"Why are you in Durham..?" William asked with a raised brow

"I wanted to see a Moriarty maths lecture at least once," Sherlock explained, hands in pockets. "So I did some looking, and came to the lecture hall, but there was an exam being taken...and I remember a promise for dinner after the train incident, didn't you?" 

William turned around, a smile creeping onto his face "I didn't recall saying we'd go.."

"Don't be mean, William." (Name) gave him a playful nudge. 

"Yeah," The detective parroted "Don't be mean, William. It's the reason I came all the way to Durham in the first place. Theres so much I want to talk about." 

"How interesting." William said, pushing open the door, taking his wife's hand in his. "However I have another lecture scheduled for second period, and I'm sure (Name) is busy too.." 

"..and we were planning to mark these exams during lunch break," (name) added, trying to find some sort of solution. "is it okay if we talk during that time?" She asked the two as they walked through the halls.

"Ah, that's fine with me," Sherlock said, William nodding with him. "Can I sit in for your next lecture?" 

The blond nodded hesitantly "I don't mind, I suppose..(Name) will be there too." He added. "Well then, we're going to drop off the exams and grab the materials for the next lecture." 

Sherlock grinned enthusiastically "Okay!" 

"The lecture was boring, wasn't it..?" William asked Sherlock, who was sat opposite him. 

He laughed in response "Ha! No comment!" 

"You've certainly had better lectures.." (Name) added, a smug smile on her lips "my favourite forever remains that one lecture when one student insisted he could find the end to pi." 

"I could say the same to you," The blond retorted. 

She placed a gloved hand to her chest in faux offence "My lectures have never been boring, they've always as been engaging and arguably entertaining for the students." 

"I beg to differ," William smirked, turning his attention back to the papers in front of him "But I'll let you have the final word for once." 

(Name) rolled her eyes, landing her gaze on Sherlock, who was observing silently "By the way, Sherlock, what brings you all the way to Durham. It is quite the journey from London, we of all people would know."

"You should know by now," He said "It's about the Lord Of Crime." 

"Was there any progress with the case?" William asked. Sometimes (Name) wondered how he could feign innocence so easily, even when Sherlock seemed to be seeing through both of them like glass. 

"Yeah.." Sherlock put a cigarette between his lips, lighting the match. "Actually, I've finally got a clear look at what his profile is like, his accomplice seems slightly more challenging to unpack." 

(Name) felt a little smug at that, although she wondered why William had the moniker of 'The Lord Of Crime' but she was merely his accomplice. 

"What do you mean?" The professor prodded. 

"In the streets, the Lord of Crime is being treated as if he were a criminal. 'It's just the citizens wishes' or 'it's just a rumour'." Sherlock explained "Nobody believes that he actually exists..or that he's actually a criminal at all..But, I have a different theory." 

He continued, exhaling smoke "The Lord of crime definitely exists, and my theory is that the Lord of crime is..a noble criminal!" 

"A noble criminal?" (Name) repeated. Frankly, she just thought Sherlock was being dramatic, rather than feeling threatened by his accusations. 

"There's no doubt about it," He affirmed 

"So, Mr Holmes, You're convinced that the Lord of crime is a noble criminal, but what are you going to do about it?" William asked, writing on one of the exam papers. "If..If the Lord of Crime is a noble criminal on one hand, his work can be considered useful to the general public, and you have the option of overlooking it." 

'Is he really defending the Lord Of Crime right now..? Does he not have any sense?' 

"On the other hand, there is the option of condemning the Lord of Crime for carrying out criminal acts without reason," He argued "Which one is the better option, Mr Holmes?" 

Holmes sighed "Even if those killed by the Lord Of Crime had a reason to be killed, as good as a reason it might be, that doesn't mean that it's okay to kill people, for certain! The logical consequences of that is that it means no matter what his purpose is, he is still guilty. I will catch and condemn him, He will take responsibility for his crimes." 

"Yes, as you should," (Name) had to hold back the urge to pull William away and ask him to stop being so foolish "Guilty people should be held accountable for their actions, whether they're a noble criminal or not."

Sherlock was silent for a moment before leaning back in his seat "Ah..to be completely honest, I was a little lost before I came here..I'm glad I could talk to you two." 

"The feeling is mutual," (Name) smiled 

"Well," Sherlock took another drag of his cigarette "If I can't catch him and uncover this mystery, I don't mind giving up this life at all." 

"Indeed," William agreed "If you're prepared to go that far, I'm sure you'll do just fine." 

BONG BONG BONG BONG 

"That's the warning bell," (Name) noted, placing an exam paper in the pile "Looks like lunch break is almost over." 

Whilst her husband marked the papers in front of him, he paused, rereading the numbers on the parchment. He slid the paper to (Name) for confirmation "was there such a way to solve this problem..?" He asked as she looked at the answer too 

"The mark scheme seems to be slightly different but the answer is correct." She pointed out, looking back and forth between papers, sitting through her own pile to look for a similar answer. "It's not like they somehow managed to cheat.." 

"What's wrong?" Sherlock asked, confused as to what they were talking about. "You both froze up for a second." 

"It seems something unusual has occurred." William explained 

"What is it?" Sherlock inquired 

"Well.." William started "An examinee with a perfect score of 100 seems to have appeared." 

"What..?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow "but some people get perfect scores on exams all the time." 

(Name) shook her head "the odds of that are very low, especially for this particular paper. Most of the mathematics students couldn't even get half the marks on this particular question, it was that difficult, therefore it was more of a matter of figuring out how to approach the problem." 

"This examinee has proven that, haven't they?" The blond professor added 

"Well who was it?" Sherlock asked 

"You see," William said, putting down the paper "They forgot to put their name on the exam. Neither of us have seen this handwriting before, either." 

"It seems we have another suspicious individual." (Name) peered closer at the exam paper, analysing every detail. 

"A mysterious student who got a near impossible perfect score..! How interesting!" Sherlock exclaimed with a grin 

"By the way, Mr Holmes," William held up a paper, covered in crosses "You got zero points." 

Sherlock was silent, likely embarrassed whilst (Name) stifled a chuckle. 

"Anyways, both (Name) and I have lectures this afternoon. Would you please fin the owner of the exam paper if you have time?" William asked, standing up and taking his wife's hand in his whilst his other hand carried the exam papers they were marking. 

"Only because you asked, Liam." Sherlock smiled "Consider it repayments for helping me earlier." 

"I see you've found him," (Name) observed as Sherlock brought a young boy before them. She recognised him as the boy from Durham printing..Bill, that was his name. 

"Finding him was easy." Sherlock stated, arms folded as he leaned against a bookshelf. "The question now is why Bill, someone who isn't a student at university, took the exam."

"S-Sorry.." Bill stuttered, bowing his head in shame.

"Bill, your solution was very elegant," William complimented "Are you self taught?"

“Yes,” Bill removed his hat, holding it to his chest as he averted his gaze with flushed cheeks “I studied by reading your books and papers…in the library without permission between deliveries. In particular, your paper on the binomial theorem was very interesting…I read it over and over again because of its dynamic solution. So..um..I’m sorry..” 

He continued to look away, expecting the worst whilst everyone remained silent, until William eventually spoke up. “I’m surprised..” 

“It’s clear that bill has a talent for Maths.” Sherlock chimes in “It doesn’t matter what anyone else says, if you have talent, you’ve got to make the most of it.” He turned to William and (Name). “Does this university have a transfer system?”

Bill turned to the detective in surprise “..wa—wait a minute..!” 

“Is everything alright, Bill?” (Name) asked as he stared at his feet, clearly nervous. 

“I-it’s fine..you don’t have to..really..” He said, his voice shaky. “I apologise for the exam, and for my behaviour, so please leave me alone..! I-I’m not a child of a noble or the gentry like the students here..I’m just a normal working class person! I know my future..the printer’s son has no choice but to take over the printer’s shop…Even if I wanted to learn mathematics..it doesn’t matter what I want..it’s never going to happen! It’s already been decided.” 

Despite obvious differences, (Name) couldn’t help but feel empathy towards the boy. His now verbal stream of consciousness was undeniably familiar to her. No amount of determination could take away the feeling of not belonging, regardless of how people act towards you. In a society ruled by one class of the elite, what we want does not matter when placed against the traditional way of things. 

And yet, here (Name) was, against all the odds. 

“Nothing is written in stone,” She reassured  in a hushed tone, speaking up as she continued “you mustn’t deny what you so desperately desire. Those beliefs are creating a class system within your heart…William?” She turned to her husband. 

“Bill, the last proof of the problem you solved..it was one of the questions I had been working on, which is an extension of my own research into the application of algebra into physics,” He said “You said that you only studied with library books and existing papers. That problem could never be solved using those materials. In other words, the problem can only be solved by someone on the same level as me..” 

This little speech was very typical of William, (Name) thought. He had this strange habit of allowing those most ignored and alone in society to feel seen, and she of all people knew that from experience. 

Later, William and (Name) has escorted Sherlock to the Durham train station, ready to take a train back to London. 

“I’m relieved,” Sherlock said as he bought his ticket. “Thanks to you, Liam, the dean had to approve of Bill’s transfer, and (nickname)’s sponsorship of him means he’ll be able to pursue his passion of learning Maths.” 

“Well, it was the least I could do. I’m already sponsoring a few students anyways, one more couldn’t hurt,” (Name) smiled 

“Your nasty bargaining technique was helpful too,” William hummed with a smirk 

“You..!” 

“It’s natural that Bill had came up with such an idea, considering the state of our country.” He added “It’s not unrealistic to assume that there are more talented individuals like him who are buried because of their social status.” 

“That’s quite the depressing thought, actually,” (Name) murmured, folding her arms. “Perhaps I could open a charity to provide education for these individuals..” 

Sherlock nodded in agreement “You’re right, Liam. The world must be filled with the graves of mozarts who never got a shot at developing their talents.” 

“The train to London will be departing soon!” 

“This is my cue to leave,” Sherlock smiled as he walked down the platform “Sorry for leaving so soon.”

“Haha, it’s no problem,” William chuckled “Thank you for finding me a research partner.” 

“I thought I was your research partner,” (name) raised a brow with irritation. 

“I can have multiple research partners, dear,” He reassured, placing a hand on her shoulder while (Name) rolled her eyes. The blond called out to the detective as he entered the train. “Mr Holmes, I fully agree with your idea that if you have a talent, it’s your duty to make use of it. It’s a necessary mindset for the future of Britain…and you said earlier that you were willing to lose your life if it meant the Lord of Crime was arrested, but you should make sure to return alive after defeating the Lord Of Crime, Sherl-“

HONK 

Sherlock’s mouth was agape, causing him to drop the cigarette between his lips. “Did you call me Sherlock?!” 

“Hm? What was that, Mr Holmes?” William smiled innocently. 

“Ha!” Sherlock laughed. “See you in London, Professors!” 

“Farewell, Sherlock!” (Name) waved “We’ll meet again soon!” 

“Yes, we with pleasure!” William said, putting his top hat back on “We’ll definitely meet again, Sherlock!” 

A/N: first false lovers chapter is once January?! 😨 anyways enjoy the non-angst chapter. You’re not gonna get any of those anymore. After the tea party chapter, it’s gonna be constant tears. Can’t wait 😜. Also wondering if I should make a Star Warss fanfic or nah. Anyways uhhh see you in a few months because I’m inconsistent asf

[neteyamyawne]

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[eddiesmile]

Lavender - E.M

Seeing in Colour Masterlist

Chapter 7: Lavender

Y/N's P.O.V

The Dungeons and Dragons game was going well, I think. Between the screams and shouts everyone made, I had no clue until Erica nudged me.

"Eddie asked if you'd like to play a game,"

I nodded, hoping that the game in question wasn't Dungeons and Dragons. I looked around, noticing how everyone, save Erica, was looking up at Eddie. They slowly inched closer, as if they were desperate to hear his words.

"Let's play 21 questions," He said, leaning back further into his chair.

I could see Erica roll her eyes from beside me, and snickers went around across the other side of the table.

"Y/N, if you could have superpowers what two powers would you like?" Eddie asked me, snatching everyone's full attention with those words.

Their eyes left him, and fell on me. Christ, I feel like I'm in an interview.

"I would choose to have invisibility and the power to manipulate bones,"

"Why?"

Everyone had inched closer to me, their eyes wide and mouths agape. A younger boy with wild, curly hair and a huge smile was on the verge of leaping over the table, the most eager to hear my response.

"Well if you've got powers of invisibility, you're able to get anywhere and do anything if you're invisible. Paired with the ability to manipulate bones, if ever in a sticky situation, I'd have the best chances of surviving unless the other person didn't have bones," I answered, looking at the boy.

"That's an interesting answer Y/N," He paused for a second, standing up from where he sat on the floor, moving to where I was seated.

"I'm Dustin," He said, holding out his hand.

I shook it, jumping when he made a sound that sounded a lot like a purr. He erupted in giggles at my reaction, and moved back to where he was originally seated, met with harsh whispers from the other boy sitting next to him.

"It's your turn to ask someone a question," Eddie instructed, the expression on his face almost bored.

"Dustin, what's one movie you could watch on repeat?" I asked.

"Ghostbusters,"

His response launched a long debate about the theatrical value of Ghostbusters compared to Terminator, everyone around the table chipping in except for me. Dustin fired off a question, the questions rotating around the room until I was asked again.

"Y/N, what's the weirdest thing you've ever done?" Erica asked, grinning widely at the question.

She knew what the answer was, and was most definitely scheming.

The whole rooms attention was on me now, even more eager to hear my response than the first question I was asked.

"At cheer practice, after we finish, I touch my butt to see if it's sweaty," I admitted, cringing as Erica burst into loud giggles.

I heard someone ask 'girls do that?' followed by a loud whack, I felt a nudge and I opened my eyes to look at Lucas.

"It's ok, I do that too," He whispered, checking to see if anyone had heard him.

I smiled, and turned to face Eddie. "Eddie, what's the most embarassing thing you've ever done to get someone's attention?"

"I cut my hair when I was younger, so I'd look like my uncle. I ended up with a buzzcut that day,"

Loud laughs erupted around the table, everyone starting their own smaller discussions about haircuts. I stood up, moving over to Eddie, crouching down so my mouth was right near his ear.

"I've done that too," I whispered, standing back up to my full height.

Eddie smiled up at me, nodding his head slowly.

"I take it you have to go,"

I nodded, giving him a slight wave. I waved to everyone around the table as I bid my goodbye. When I reached my car outside I listened to the extremely loud shouts coming from inside, smiling when I spotted Erica running out of the doors with her bag.

"Are you able to take me home?"

"Of course, hop in," I answered, climbing into the drivers seat.

"Will you be coming again?"

I laughed, turning to look at Erica, "If I'm invited back,"

"I can promise you that you will be,"

SEEING IN COLOUR TAGLIST: (CLOSED)

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[helloalycia]

The Wrong Lifetime — Ten // Wanda Maximoff

chapter nine | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter eleven

author’s note: okay so this was supposed to be published yesterday but (if anyone cares lol), basically, i finished my last year of uni two days ago and so yesterday was the first official day i had that i didn’t have to do work, so i spent the whole day playing video games 😂 but it’s here now, so i hope you liked it!

Approaching Y/B/N's study, my annoyance returned when I remembered how he acted only an hour before. I didn't bother knocking as I let myself in, seeing him loosening his bow tie and looking out the window.

"What the hell was that?" I snapped instantly.

He sighed, yanking his bow tie off and throwing it to his desk. "What was what?"

I crossed my arms to contain my frustration. "You know what, Y/B/N." He continued to play dumb, so I watched him with a frown. "Why are you so against me getting published? I thought– I thought you'd be proud of me. It's all I've ever wanted."

With a scowl, he looked the other way. "I'm the writer, Y/N, not you."

His words created an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach. Jealousy was a disgusting look on him, one I never wanted to see.

"No," I said, uncrossing my arms and staring daggers at him. "You're not the writer. I am. You only got noticed because of me!"

"Shut up!" he shouted, finally meeting my eyes. "You don't get to do this! It's not about you!"

"Yes, it is!" I shouted right back. "For once, it is about me, Y/B/N! Because this is my chance to do something I love."

He rolled his eyes, getting riled up all over again. "And that's another thing. Why the hell are you putting silly ideas into my fiancé's head about making money? Are you trying to make me a fool in front of my in-laws?"

I squeezed my fists together, narrowing my eyes. "They aren't your in-laws."

"Oh, you know what I mean!"

He didn't deserve Wanda. He couldn't. She was too good for him.

"Sorry that your masculinity is so fragile that you can't let your fiancé do something she's passionate about," I said through gritted teeth.

He glowered down at me. "You need to butt out."

I smiled bitterly. "Maybe if you didn't start on Pietro for no reason, I would."

He scoffed. "Please. That man is only trying to get into your pants."

I don't think I'd ever wanted to strangle my brother as much as I did right now. Did he really not believe in me? He couldn't accept that maybe I'd earned this on my own accord? Thankfully, unlike him, I could contain my emotions and managed to swallow down my anger.

"You know that's not the case," I said with a dangerously calm voice. "You should talk about your soon-to-be brother-in-law with some respect."

Y/B/N sighed, moving to sit at his desk. I followed him with my eyes, unable to recognise who he was. I hadn't dubbed him for the insecure type, but I was being proven wrong many times tonight.

"I don't want to do this right now," he said quietly, sinking his head into his hands.

I uncurled my fists, fed up. "It's already been done."

He looked up, but I didn't wait to see his face. Maybe he wasn't the brother I thought he was.

—

"Honest opinion," Wanda said, before revealing herself from behind the curtain. "Nice or ugly?"

"Nice."

She smiled brightly, twirling around in the dress she was trying on, before going back behind the curtain to change into another one. She'd invited me over to hers to hang out, which meant watching her try on a bunch of new dresses and getting excited over each one. I wasn't complaining.

"So, that first book," she picked up from our previous conversation as she changed. She was referring to Y/B/N's first published book. "That was really you?"

"Yep." I pulled my legs up onto the lounge sofa and leaned on my hand, elbow propped on the back of the seat. "I mean, it got edited of course, but the initial manuscript was mine."

"Wow," she commented. "That must have really sucked to hear everybody praise it when it was actually yours."

"It did indeed."

She came out from the curtain wearing a dress that wasn't particularly nice looking. It had a baggy torso and slim legs, making Wanda look very unflattering. And that was saying something – she could pull off anything.

"Nice or ugly?" she asked, hands on her hips.

I squinted, tilting my head and trying to think if I should lie or not. Her blue eyes peered down at me intimidatingly and I knew I couldn't find it in myself to lie to her.

After a moment, I released a breath. "I'm sorry, love, but it's kind of ugly."

She chuckled, giving me a knowing smile. "Good. This was a test. Means you're paying attention."

"Wow. You think I'm just sat here for fun?"

She didn't respond, but an amused smile was on her lips as she headed behind the curtain to change yet again. It was quiet as she was changing, before she spoke up again.

"You know when we first met? And you showed me around your room?"

"How can I forget? You thought I was jealous of my brother," I quipped with a smile.

I could imagine the eye roll she was giving me. "That was before I knew you wrote half his stuff."

Stifling a laugh, I nodded even though she couldn't see me. "Okay, go on."

She sighed. "I told you how I fell in love with that first book. How I fell in love with the words. And the person who wrote those words.”

"I remember."

She reappeared from behind the curtain, this time wearing a stunning floral blue sundress. It fell off her shoulders, revealing cream-coloured skin and a well-defined collarbone. I smiled softly, overwhelmed with admiration for the beautiful woman before me.

"I'm glad it was you," she said, and I suddenly remembered we were in the middle of a conversation.

Her eyes sparkled brightly as she smiled my way, and then her words sank in and my heart fluttered with adoration.

"Me, too," I breathed out.

She held my gaze for a second longer before looking down at her dress, pressing her hands over it. "So. What do you think? Nice or ugly?"

I raised my eyebrows with astonishment. "Wanda, you look absolutely beautiful."

Her shoulders relaxed as her eyes flickered to mine. "So, I should keep it?"

I spluttered, "Duh!"

She laughed, before approaching me and sitting beside me. Leaning her head on my shoulder, she pulled her legs onto the sofa and sighed contently. I wrapped an arm around her, resting my cheek on her head.

"I'm glad you'll finally get the recognition you deserve, milaya (darling)," she said, lifting her hand to intertwine it with mine over her shoulder.

With an entertained smile, I held her hand firmly. "Maybe, love. I haven't said yes."

"Oh, you'll say yes."

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, revelling in the warmth her body created as it pressed to mine. We had no concerns that somebody would catch us since nobody was home and the servants knew not to bother us.

"So, what was the book actually about?" she asked, playing with my fingers.

"Huh?"

"The book," she repeated. "I've heard Y/B/N's take on it, but what about yours?"

At the mention of my brother, I rolled my eyes. We still hadn't spoken since our argument and I wasn't exactly in the best place with him right now.

"It doesn't matter," I mumbled into her hair.

She used her elbow to nudge me gently in the stomach before grabbing my other hand and wrapping it around her waist.

"I like hearing you speak," she said softly. "And I love the way your mind works."

My cheeks flushed at the compliment, but I appreciated her words. She always had such an effect on me and I'd come to only care about one opinion nowadays – hers.

"Okay, I guess..." I sighed, subconsciously pressing my fingertips to hers. "The book is about a man who loses his wife to his own ignorance, right?" She hummed in agreement, so I continued. "Y/B/N always talks about how it's about a man failing to appreciate his wife, but that's not how I intended for it to be perceived."

Interest piqued, she sat up straight and turned around to face me, leaning her head on my chest and looking up with curious eyes. I smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her nose, making her scrunch it up adorably.

"It's supposed to be about the wife discovering that she's her own woman and that she doesn't need her husband to be okay," I continued, holding her gaze. "It was her own self-discovery that pushed them apart, as well her husband's stupidity."

Wanda's lips curved into a gentle smile. "I like that interpretation a lot better than his."

Licking my lips, I breathed out through a smile. "You're biased, dear."

Her eyes flickered to my lips. "Maybe."

I chuckled before closing the gap between us, connecting our lips in a short, sweet kiss. She relaxed against me before smiling as we pulled away.

"Ya lyublyu vas (I love you)," she whispered.

I always loved when she spoke in her native tongue. She sounded so at peace when she did and it warmed my insides.

"I love you, too," I whispered right back.

She grinned, carefree, before turning to lean on my shoulder again. I held her, enjoying the silence that formed between us. Her presence was always enough and I never wanted anything more. But I knew Wanda and I knew that she couldn't stay quiet for too long, so something was definitely up.

"What are you thinking?" I asked quietly, not wanting to startle her in case she was too deep into her thoughts.

She sighed. "It's stupid."

I smiled. "I doubt that."

It went quiet and I assumed she didn't want to share, but then she played with my fingers again as she spoke.

"I was wondering what it would be like if we were able to get married," she murmured. "With the dresses and walking down the aisle and the rings."

I laced my fingers through hers, the thoughts having crossed my mind at times, too. It was nice to think 'what if', but it was also a dangerous game.

"The wedding cake would have to be chocolate," I played along, not wanting her to think she couldn't talk about it.

She snickered, loosening up in my arms. "Of course. And the colour scheme would have to be red."

"Definitely," I agreed, knowing she wouldn't have it any other way, "...it could be somewhere small but comfortable. Surrounded by nature, maybe."

"Yes. With flowers all around us and the sound of birds tweeting in the trees."

A comforting smile crept on my lips as I closed my eyes, imagining it in my mind. What a beautiful day it would be.

"I'd force Pietro to be the ring bearer," she added as an afterthought, and I laughed, chest moving up and down with her on it.

"He'd hate that," I pointed out.

"Exactly," she said with a mischievous hum.

I rolled my eyes playfully. "What about afterwards? Where would you want to live?"

She scrunched her face up before settling with, "Somewhere remote. Away from people. Maybe a nice cottage somewhere."

Nodding in agreement, I said, "We could have a beautiful garden in the back. I'd do my very best to make it perfect for you. And you could paint whatever you wanted there."

A considerate smile tugged at her lips at the thought. "Yes! And we could get a pet. I've always wanted a pet."

"I guess we could... what pet do you want?"

With no hesitation, she said, "Chickens."

I looked down at her, quirking a brow. "Chickens?"

Looking up at me, she stared like it was self-explanatory. "They're cute and they lay eggs. Think about it. Fresh eggs for breakfast every morning."

God, she was so cute. I smiled, squeezing her hand. "Chickens it is, love."

She got excited as she tugged on my hand. "You can finally get a study of your own!"

"And you can get your own studio," I added, making her grin.

"And I'd keep it sparkling clean."

I laughed, shaking my head. "Don't lie, Wanda."

She rolled her eyes, though wore a humoured expression. "Okay, maybe not..."

"You can keep it as messy as you want," I promised her, as if it was actually going to happen and we'd get what we wanted.

The dream was so vivid in my mind that it could have been a memory. Wanda and I living together, peacefully and without hiding... if only we weren't in the wrong lifetime.

"I like to pretend that you gave this to me," she said after an unsettling silence fell upon us, raising her left hand for me to see. She wiggled her ring finger, the silver band and emerald gem glinting in the light. "It makes me feel better."

I swallowed hard and forced a smile, intertwining my fingers in hers and bringing them to my lips to kiss gently.

"Technically I picked it," I reminded her to lighten the mood, but it didn't work.

A sad smile appeared on her face. "Maybe in another lifetime, we could have met in a world that allowed this."

My smile faded into a frown at her words. Like I said, considering the 'what if's' was a dangerous game, and we'd already played too much of it.

"You're going to marry my brother soon," I said quietly, the realisation hitting me. "This– us, will have to stop."

She sat up and turned to face me, eyes looking between mine as she shook her head. "It doesn't have to."

I rested a hand on her cheek and she leaned into it, kissing my palm. I savoured the feeling of her lips against my skin.

"What we're doing isn't fair on either of us," I said reluctantly, afraid to say what we'd avoided for as long as our relationship lasted.

She frowned. "I'd rather have you like this than not at all."

My heart ached because I knew she was being genuine, and the truth is, I felt the same. But that brought me to our next dilemma.

"It's not fair on Y/B/N either."

She tensed her jaw. "The world doesn't want us together, Y/N. They're the ones who forced us to be like this."

"Like what?" I asked with knowing eyes. "Cheaters?"

Her eyes glossed over and it broke me to see her so hurt.

"Is it really cheating if I never wanted to be with him?" she asked with a shaky voice. "If I'm only acting out of duty? If I never loved him?"

Realising I'd saddened her, I moved forward and pulled her in for a hug, running my hand down her hair and to her back. "Sorry... I didn't mean to make you upset."

She sniffled and I felt her tears soaking my shirt. "Don't talk like that... I don't want to lose you."

I swallowed hard, nodding into her shoulder. "I don't want to lose you either, Wanda."

But I knew that deep down, we couldn't hold onto everything we wanted to in life. Deep down, she must have known that, too.

—

"...and this is where we write up the contracts. It's where we'd write up yours if you say yes."

Pietro grinned cheekily as I gave him a knowing look. He was showing me around the publishing house – a proper tour, not just me lurking around on the few visits I'd been here for Y/B/N – with hopes of convincing me to sign a contract with him.

"Pietro, you said you wouldn't be biased," Wanda warned, and I gave her a grateful smile as Pietro chuckled.

"I'm sorry, I can't help it," he apologised, though he definitely didn't mean it. "I just really think you'd be a great fit here, Y/N. I already have editors willing to work with you based on the few pages they've seen of your work."

I raised my eyebrows, startled. "Wow, seriously?"

He nodded. "Most definitely. As I told you the other night, you're talented. And with my help, you can be successful, too."

A smile fell on my lips uncontrollably. A real editor wanted to work with me. Woah.

"I'm gonna get some coffee," Wanda said, squeezing my shoulder. "I'll get you both some, too." She wagged a finger towards her brother. "Don't pressure her whilst I'm gone."

He raised his hands in defence. "Okay, calm down, sestra (sister). I'll be fair."

She lowered her finger, shot him a final look, then smiled at me before leaving for the café next door. I chuckled at how cute she was and how much she cared before returning my attention to Pietro.

"I won't pressure you," he said to me, perching on the edge of an empty desk. "I just want you to know that you'd be well looked after here. I wouldn't let anyone talk down to you, nor treat you with disrespect because you're a woman. I don't condone that here."

I relaxed at his words, offering him a grateful smile. "Thank you, Pietro. That really means a lot."

He returned the smile before his gaze moved over my shoulder. Smile fading, he cleared his throat awkwardly and looked away. I turned around, curious to what had caught his attention, and then I saw Y/B/N standing in the doorway, looking around for something. His eyes eventually fell on me and he perked up before heading our way.

I hadn't spoken to him since two nights ago after dinner. He'd actively avoided me, too and I wasn't complaining, having still harboured an unexplainable anger for him. What was he doing here?

"Y/N, hey," he said awkwardly, stopping before Pietro and I. His eyes flickered to Pietro before he asked me, "Can I speak with you?"

Instinctively, my jaw clenched and he seemed to notice as he shook his head quickly.

"Not to argue," he clarified. "Just to talk."

His eyes were pleading and I couldn't find it in myself to deny him. He was my brother after all, we couldn't argue forever. Nodding wordlessly, I smiled apologetically to Pietro before following Y/B/N to a quiet side of the room. My eyes ran along the many employees working away at their desks before falling to my brother before me.

"What is it?" I asked, maybe a little too harshly, but there was no going back now.

He frowned, eyes flittering around nervously. "I want to apologise for my behaviour the other night. I shouldn't have acted how I did."

I hugged myself as I shifted my weight between my feet. "Okay."

"You were right," he continued, finally meeting my eyes. "You deserve this. You've always been there for me, helping me with my writing when I needed it. I should have reacted better, but I let my jealousy get the better of me."

My mouth opened, surprised at his apology.

He offered me a sad smile. "The truth is, Y/N, we both know you'll be the more successful of us both. And you'll be so preoccupied with your own writing that you won't be able to help me anymore. And it was selfish of me to think that first, but I did. And I shouldn't have. I'm sorry. I'm your big brother and I should've been better."

Chewing on my lip, I let go of waist and straightened up, nodding slightly. "I– thanks. Thank you. For telling me that."

His shoulders relaxed as he nodded. "Also, you were right about what you said about Wanda. And I'm going to apologise to her first thing."

My expression softened at the mention of the girl who'd only ever been good to us. "She's seriously talented, Y/B/N."

"I know."

I nodded, stepping forward and resting a hand on his shoulder. Looking between his eyes, I only saw regret and I knew he was being genuine with his apology.

"You're forgiven," I told him with a small smile, before pulling him in for a quick hug.

He returned it and I felt relieved to know he was supportive. I didn't see a reason to not accept Pietro's deal now... everybody I cared about was okay with it.

"Wanda is here by the way," I told Y/B/N when we pulled apart. "She's just getting some coffee for us."

He nodded and we returned to Pietro, who gave me a concerned look. I smiled reassuringly and he relaxed before looking to my brother with a smile.

"Hey, Pietro, sorry for what I said last night," Y/B/N was quick to say. "It wasn't cool. I know you're not like that and I shouldn't have even thought it, let alone said it."

Pietro was one of the chillest people I'd met as he offered his hand out to my brother. "No worries, mate. Bygones."

They exchanged a handshake before my brother glanced to me.

"She's really good," he said to Pietro. "You'd be lucky to have her here."

My face heated up as Pietro nodded in agreement. The two of them looked to me with proud smiles and as uncomfortable as I felt with the attention, I was grateful to have their support.

"I know," Pietro said. "All she's got to do is say yes."

"You haven't said yes yet?" my brother asked with disbelief, before slapping me on the arm playfully. "Y/N! This is your chance!"

"And it's a big decision!" I reminded him.

He looked like he wanted to say something, but then I caught sight of Wanda over his shoulder and perked up. She smiled my way but then noticed Y/B/N's presence and proceeded with caution.

"Hey, I got you both a coffee," she said, giving Pietro his and handing me mine, but her eyes were searching mine with worry.

My hand brushed hers as I accepted my coffee and I squeezed it reassuringly. She seemed to believe me as her lips twitched into a small smile before looking to Y/B/N.

"Hey," she said to him quietly, biting her lip.

He glanced to me for encouragement and I gave him a subtle thumbs up. This seemed to help as he wiped his hands on his trousers before looking to Wanda hopefully.

"Hey," he finally spoke. "Please can we talk in private for a moment?"

She nodded, humming in response, and followed him to talk.

"Match made in heaven those two," Pietro said sarcastically, and I tried not to laugh, but damn was it funny.

"Look, I think I've made a decision," I said after a moment, feeling my heart speed up at the realisation of my next words.

"Oh? And what is it? Will you let me publish you?" Pietro asked, quirking a brow and watching me with an excited smile.

Well, there was only the future to look forward to now.

I grinned. "Yes."

[minor-solemnity]

Request:

Pairing: Tom x oc/reader

Summary:

Tom and oc go to the slug club yearly galla and oc is the loud Gryffindor 2nd in class and her and tom have been nemesis for long but the sexual tension is real and then tom sees her dancing with potter ..

Slughorn is like “ahh two of my favourite students” and he introduced them to a lot of people and a little girl spills something on tom and oc defends the girl and slughorn is like why dont you help him change oc ( as tom had some injury and was drenched and couldn’t change on his own ) and when they fight all the way to his dorm and she only agrees because slughorn tells her to and then when she helps him out of his shirt there is a lot of sexual tension and then kiss or maybe have sex in his dorm

And in the end she ends up sleeping on his bed and he like sees her face glisten in the moon light and is like fuck i like her even though he was trying to convince himself he didnt care abt her throughout the party ? And in the morning she is like well you slytherins have great beds you rich aristocrats or something and he just laughs and kisses her and malfoy is like well who would have thought the slytherin ice cold king and the Gryffindor lioness

I dont know feel free to change it up and if you donr want to then thats ok too it would mean a great deal to me if you write it no pressure tho..( going anon because i am shy )

~ red

Heyyy so I took a few liberties and this is gonna be a two parter because I have zero chill apparently but I hope you like this, Red! 

Next part will be up in a day or two :)

Never Gonna Give (You Up) Pt.1

You smile up at him as innocently as you can. You know you shouldn’t bait him. You know you’re being immature. You know that if this night descends into one of your usual verbal sparring matches you won’t be impressing anyone, let alone Christella Beaufort. But something about him brings out the worst in you. Makes you feel slightly wrong-footed which in turn makes you want to push and needle until he reacts.

You take a moment to marvel at the decorations for this year’s Saturnalia party. Every year, Slughorn seems to set himself an unofficial challenge to out-do himself with more elaborate designs. This year, the theme is clear: gold. Just lots and lots of gold. From the tablecloths to the chairs, to the golden snowflakes that melt into nothing a couple of feet above your head, to the floor which has been charmed so that whenever you take a step you leave a shimmering footprint in your wake. It’s bright and festive and you can’t help but smirk at the thought of Tom Riddle being stuck in a room full of Gryffindor colours. 

Speaking of the devil, you spy Riddle talking to Slughorn and one of the Ministry officials that often grace Slughorn’s get-togethers. You don’t particularly want to go over and talk to him, but you do want to make yourself known to Slughorn and find out if he managed to Christella Beaufort on the list this year. She’s the Head Curse-Breaker at Gringott’s, fiercely independent, highly intelligent, and so tenacious she had singlehandedly opened the door to witches wanting to go into the profession. In short, she’s your idol.

“Come on, Potter. We’ve got pleasantries to make and hands to grease.” You grab Fleamont’s hand who you’re attending the party with (as friends - you’ve made it very clear to him that you’re not interested in finding out whether his skills on a broom translate off the pitch). With that, you stride over to the drinks table where Slughorn and Riddle are chatting, Fleamont stumbling after you, his hand still locked in yours.

“Professor,” You greet Slughorn with a warm smile, “I have to say, you’ve outdone yourself once again. I’m particularly fond of the colour scheme this year.”

“Ahh, my dear girl, how lovely of you to join us!” Slughorn cries jovially. He pats your shoulder and you watch as his eyes slide to your hand, which is still clasped around Fleamonts. And (not that you care) you notice that Riddle’s eyes are also fixed on your intertwined hands. You let go of Fleamont’s hand and it has nothing to do with the frown that’s now marring Riddle’s brow.  He casts a fond (and slightly calculating, truth be told) eye over the three of you. “My three best students! First, second, and third.” Your smile turns strained and over Slughorn’s shoulder, Riddle’s charming smile turns smug.

Slughorn introduces you to the Ministry official - a boring looking man who you promptly forget the name of but who Fleamont seems entirely taken by. Before you know it, Potter has abandoned you to talk shop with Slughorn and Mr Ministry and you’re left with Riddle.

Lovely.

Just. Lovely.

At least there’s champagne. The other professors might disapprove but in all your years of Slug Club Saturnalias, Slughorn has never once skimped on the champagne. You reach for a glass and look at Riddle with a critical eye, searching for any imperfections. Frustratingly, you can’t find any. Riddle is, as per usual, the most handsome man in the room. Pale skin, impossibly dark eyes, refined features and cheekbones as sharp as his tongue. Metaphorically speaking. Though the idea of Riddle with a forked tongue is enough to make you snort into your champagne flute. 

Riddle’s attention snaps to you and he raises an eyebrow, unimpressed, impatient, annoyed with you already and making absolutely no attempt to hide it. “Did you find something amusing?” 

“Oh, no. I was just taking in your general appearance,” You say, waving a handle vaguely towards him. You smile up at him as innocently as you can. You know you shouldn’t bait him. You know you’re being immature. You know that if this night descends into one of your usual verbal sparring matches you won’t be impressing anyone, let alone Christella Beaufort. But something about him brings out the worst in you. Makes you feel slightly wrong-footed which in turn makes you want to push and needle until he reacts. It doesn’t help that the rivalry you’ve had with him since first year has only become more intense and heated as you’ve gotten older. 

His eyes narrow and he drags his gaze across your body. The moment stretches and your cheeks flame as his eyes follow the nip of your waist and the curve of your hips. Your mouth goes dry. Because this is another thing that you hate about Riddle: he never fails to make your stomach swoop. By the time he raises his eyes back to yours, his expression is one of ironic amusement. “Colour me impressed,” He murmurs, angling his body ever so slightly towards you and you have to force yourself not to take a step back. “You actually look… passable this evening.”

Prat.

You should walk away. You should find one of the fancy people that you’ve been desperate to meet since your invitation arrived a month ago. 

You don’t.

You stay and bicker with Riddle, throwing increasingly caustic taunts and jibes at each other whilst you sip champagne and pretend that you’d rather be anywhere else. You realise about twenty minutes into a debate about Minister for Magic Spencer-Moon’s policies (you rather like the pro-muggle legislature he’s attempting to pass and Riddle thinks you’re being horribly naive) that Riddle is still here. Which, well, obviously he’s still here; he’s talking to you right now in that same condescending tone he uses to tell students off for staying out past curfew. But he doesn’t have to be. Riddle is as ambitious as you are, more so, even. So why has he spent most of the evening with you and not sucking up to the many rich and talented witches and wizards in attendance tonight?

You glance around the room, suddenly aware that it hadn’t even occurred to you to leave. You’ve been so wrapped up in your conversation that everything else had just sort of… faded away. For reasons you are unwilling to examine too closely, you feel yourself grow warm. Riddle is still talking, gesturing animatedly with his champagne flute, looking horrendously handsome and like… oh Merlin, he looks like he’s enjoying himself. And that is… Well, quite frankly, that’s enough to make your brain grind to halt from shock.

You’re saved from your inner turmoil by Fleamont who appears at your side and wraps a hand around your waist. Riddle’s expression shutters. He looks at Fleamont’s arm around your waist and sneers and, for reasons beyond your grasp, you have to bite your tongue to stop yourself from explaining that Fleamont is just a friend. Fleamont, oblivious as always, grins and asks you to dance and you can’t bring yourself to look at Riddle as he leads you away to the dance floor. 

Fleamont is a good dancer. You suppose this is to be expected from the heir to one of the oldest pureblood families in Britain. You imagine that he learnt to waltz before he learnt to walk. You try to focus on the dance, on the way that Fleamont spins you around the room causing your dress robes to fan out around you in an elegant circle but out of the corner of your eye you can see Riddle watching you. He’s subtle about it, you’re fairly sure that no one else would notice, but even as he makes conversation with a wizard you vaguely recognise as Ensio Kiimamaa, widely regarded as the leading Potions Master in contemporary wizarding society, his eyes flicker to where you’re dancing with Fleamont. 

You’re really not sure what to make of it.

The dance ends, and Fleamont makes a show of bowing and offering you his arm, which you take with an exasperated laugh. “Let’s go talk to Kiimamaa, I hear he’s thinking about taking on apprentices next year.” As little as you want to go near Riddle for the rest of the night, you can’t think of a good reason to object, so you nod begrudgingly and walk over, trying to convince yourself that the trepidation you feel is a result of being introduced to Kiimamma and not because of the way Riddle’s looking at you.

You make your introductions and Kiimamma begins to explain his latest discovery: a highly acidic venom harvested from the Icelandic water-dwelling vatnaormar. He produces a vial of dark liquid, uncorks it and passes it around the three of you. “It’s highly dangerous to touch, but I’ve found that a sniff of it can induce heightened concentration and focus - I hope to find a way of incorporating it in a potion that’s safe to drink.” 

Riddle holds the uncorked venom delicately between his fingers, raising it up to the light to observe the venom and then time seems to speed up and slow down all at once as you watch in horror as two things happen almost simultaneously. 

First: A little girl, who you assume to be Kiimamma’s daughter, shakes free of Slughorn’s hold on her arm and bounds over, waving her arms excitedly before losing her balance and crashing into Riddle. Second: the uncorked vial slips from Riddle’s fingers and the venom arches in an elegant curve through the air before it splatters across Riddle’s chest.

The effect is immediate. The venom tears through Riddle’s dress robes in almost no time at all and his skin begins to burn, leaving awful red and pink welts on the pale skin of his chest. The little girl starts wailing and Slughorn and Kiimamma start flapping their hands.

Riddle’s eyes flash in pain and anger and embarrassment and he completely forgets his usual charm and grace as he rounds on the girl. Before he can start yelling at her as he so clearly intends to, you step forward and place your hand on the girl’s shoulder. “It was an accident, Riddle. She didn’t mean to.” You say and then add in a low tone so that only he can hear, “She’s his daughter. Don’t fucking yell at her.” His gaze snaps to yours and there’s a moment when you think he’s going to yell anyway before his jaw clenches and he gives you a single tight nod.

“Riddle, my poor boy, you must go to the hospital wing. Not to worry, I’m sure Madam Montague will be able to sort you out in a flash.” Later, you will be able to appreciate Slughorn’s ability to sound jolly in even the direst of circumstances. Right now, you just find it rather insensitive. Slughorn turns to you and with slightly pleading eyes asks you to escort Riddle. Try as you might, you can’t think of a good reason not to, so with a vaguely helpless glance to Fleamont, you grudgingly nod, scowling at the ground in annoyance.

You loop your arm through Riddle’s and he stiffens under your touch. You repress the urge to roll your eyes and begin to make your way out of the room, ignoring Riddle’s laboured breathing and the slight trembling of his shoulders. It’s only as you get to the door that you notice a tall, dark-haired witch with a jagged scar crossing the length of her face steps out of the floo. Christella Beaufort, the one person who you had wanted to meet tonight has arrived and you’re not going to get to even say hello.

(part 1) (part 2)

[realcube]

best man || tobio kageyama x reader

summary: kageyama’s been with you through highs and the lows, he genuinely loves you unconditionally. so what happens during the lowest of the low, he finally meets your older brother - oikawa tōru.

tw// fem! reader,

thank you @scftfairyking for this cute request 🥺

For as long as he can remember, Kageyama has always called you by your first name. You introduced yourself by your first name and you referred to him by his first name, so why would he call you by your surname? Plus, he thought your first name was so pretty too. 

(Y/N). See, it rolls off the tongue.

Anyway, you were his girlfriend so of course he knows your second name - it’s Kawa. Quite uncommon but he thought it was cute. He wasn’t in any of your classes though so he didn’t know your register name and obviously, he was too awkward to ask. So he took the initiative to hover around your friend group during lunch to hear what they call you.

From his research he concluded that your name was Kawa as that was what your friends called you, besides your first name.

Little did he know, that was just cutesy nickname they have for you.

»»————-　♛　————-««

“You have an older sister?!” You gasped, your mouth daggling wide open upon processing this new information which you’ve never heard before, despite the fact you’ve been with him for around 6 months now.

“You have an older brother?!” Kageyama retorted in a similar tone, an unfamiliar look of panic spreading across hi face. Honestly, he had a hard enough time convincing your parents that he wasn’t a delinquent so he had a feeling that it was going to be even harder to convince your brother.

You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck. Oh, how you’ve been dreading this day. You weren’t stupid, you knew there was bad blood between your brother and Kageyama - you’ve known it since your brother would come home from junior high, cursing some guy called ‘Tobio’ and taking his anger out on either you or your mother. 

That’s why you did everything in your power to make sure that Kageyama never learned your real surname; you even told your parents about this little scheme so they wouldn’t get confused when Kageyama referred to them as ‘Kawa’. Your parents went along with your plan but naturally, they were disheartened that you were ‘ashamed of your own brother’ and that you were essentially lying to your boyfriend so they demanded that you come clean as soon as possible.

But you just weren’t prepared for that day to be today.

Kageyama was over at your house and from downstairs, you heard keys rattling in the door, followed by choruses of cheers and greeting. You immediately understood what was going on; your parents’ anniversary was a couple days ago, meanwhile Oikawa was on a one-week trip to Tokyo for volleyball but he told you he was going to come home early to surprise them - you didn’t think it would be this early though!

Kageyama inquired as to who just arrived, so you decided to finally come clean about the fact you have a brother. But as it turns out, Kageyama had a secret sibling who he hadn’t told you about too; so that’s how you ended up in this situation.

“So, what’s your brother’s name? And why haven’t you told me about him until now if he lives in your house?” Kageyama asked, tilting his head to emphasise his curiosity. Although, you could’ve asked him the exact same question in regard to his sister.

You sighed once again, your heart sinking as you realised that you’d finally have to some clean. After a moment of mental preparation and thought as to how you were going to phrase your explanation, you opened your mouth to respond but then--

“(y/n)-chan~” Tōru sang, the door to your room whipped open to reveal him posing in your doorway in his fruity teal Seijoh jersey, “It been a while! How’ve you be-- AHHH!” He screamed, instantly jumping at the sight of a foreigner in your bedroom who had been lurking in your room the whole time.

However, his fear quickly turned into a mix of anger, shock and appal as his brain finally processed who it was sitting on your bed, - “Kageyama?!” he shrieked, all the colour draining from his face.

“Oikawa?!” Kageyama raised his voice, not seemed as enraged at this plot-twist as Tōru. His tone seemed to show more confusion rather than emotion, as if this was just some cruel prank.

As soon as Tōru was able to regain his compose, he looked at you with fury in his eyes, in a way that you haven’t seen for a while - not since he left Kitagawa Daiichi volleyball club, not since he left Tobio.

“What is he doing in our house?!” Oikawa hissed at you through bared teeht, covering the side of his mouth as if he was whisper but in reality, Kageyama could clearly hear everything your brother said - and of course, he wasn’t too pleased.

“(y/n), why didn’t you tell me he is your brother?!” Kageyama barked, deciding that two could play at that game. It didn’t take long for him to realise that this wasn’t a set-up and your brother was in fact Tōru Oikawa, someone he has told you that he dislikes on many occasions, yet you never felt the need to mention that you were related to him.

Oikawa’s hostile glare immediately shifted on Kageyama since he tried to interrupt you conversation, “Don’t talk to her like that! Is that how you speak to a lady?!” You couldn’t help but bury your face in your hands with embarrassment at the fact you brother just called you a ‘lady’ to spite your boyfriend, ew.

You weren’t the only one who was embarrassed though as Oikawa’s comments definitely caught Kageyama off-guard, he didn’t want anyone to think that he treats you poorly - which is a challenge most of the time as he is clearly a bit rough around the edges which instantly makes people think that he is toxic. 

“I- erm, sorry, (y/n).” Kageyama bowed his head in your direction and although you were too awkward to make eye-contact with him, you hummed to reassure him that it was alright.

Tōru cringed at Kageyama’s use of your first name again, he dreaded the thought that maybe you two were actually- friends. 🤢 

“(y/n), why do you let him call you by your first name? Shouldn’t he refer to you as Oikawa?” Tōru quirked a brow, placing a hand on his hip while shooting you an intimidating glare. “And this is the first of many questions so be quick about it.” He snapped his fingers for emphasis.

“Uh, because he’s my...boyfriend.” You whispered the last word in hopes he would just move onto the next question but of course he didn’t.

“Your what? Please speak up.” He pried, praying that he word he couldn’t decipher was some sort of synonym for rival or worst enemy.

“My...boyfriend.”

“Your what?!”

“MY BOYFRIEND!” You screamed, clutching the Kageyama’s jersey which you were wearing, for comfort as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you both earlier; I just didn’t want something like this to happen. I know it was selfish of me and swear to be more open in the future.” You mumbled, harshly biting your bottom lip as you fought the urge to burst out crying in front of both of them.

Then, you turned to stare at Kageyama with glossy eyes, “I understand if you want to breakup with me now.” 

“Huh? Why would I do that?” Kageyama inquired, looking at you as if you were crazy - but in all honesty, it was an insane suggestion that he would breakup with you over something like that. 

“Yeah, why would he do that?” Tōru added, prompting Kageyama to send him a slight glare out of the corner of his eyes.

Then, all eyes were on you. They stared into your soul as they waited for an explanation as why you’d make such a ridiculous suggestion. You were no fool, though; you knew exactly what both of them really wanted and luckily for them, you weren’t feeling stubborn enough to remain in this awkward situation for any longer.

You sighed, looking around the room as if someone was going to creep in and save you from the uncomfortable atmosphere you all had created. Once you realised that nobody could rescue you besides yourself, you begrudgingly murmured, “Because I lied...”

“Pardon?” They both said in unison.

“I lied! Sorry! Jesus, can we all just head back to our own business now?!”

Both of them seemed content with your apology but Tōru still had his arms crossed over his chest, disapproving of your last request. “Our business? My business is wondering why the king is still in our home-- and why are you wearing his jersey?!”

You shot Kageyama an unimpressed look, saying in a hushed tone, “I advise leaving while you still can.” And with your approval, Tobio was out the front door in the blink of an eye. 

»»————-　♛　————-««

“That was so awkward.” Kageyama mused, recalling the event that happened yesterday as he leaned back against the vending machine, milk carton in hand. 

“I know.” You agreed, nodding your head as you absentmindedly tapped your nails against the screen of the machine. “I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You apologised once again, looking up at your boyfriend with the sincerest glint of remorse in your eyes.

Kageyama couldn’t help but roll his eyes, “I told you, it’s fine.” Although the majority of the memories he had from yesterday made him cringe, one that will never fail to made him smile was the look of shock on Tōru’s face once he realised that you were wearing a Karasuno jersey. 

He smirked, just about to go back to happily sipping away at his milk until he remembered something that had been bothering him all night and instead of filtering himself, he just blurted it out, “So when we get married, is Oikawa gonna be the Best Man or the Maid of honour at our wedding? Or the dude that walks you down the aisle?” 

You felt the tips of your ears heat up, averting your gaze from him to ensure that he didn’t see the blush rushing across your cheeks, “Wedding?! I think you’re getting a bit ahead of yourself.”

Kageyama nodded, tossing his empty milk carton into a nearby trashcan while keeping his eyes glued to the ground. Just as he was about to apologise thought, you cut in with, “I think Tōru would just a be a guest.”

“Good.” Kageyama blurted out; apparently having lost all cognitive ability today. “No offence.”

You raised your eyebrows, about to reply until you saw Kageyama’s lips curl into a smile as a proud chuckle left his throat, all while he stared into the void - so of course you inquired, “What’s so funny?”

He jumped, being snapped out his thoughts by your voice and jerking his neck to look at you, “Oh, I was just thinking.” he hummed, pausing to allow you to make a ‘wait! you can think?!’ joke but continuing once he realised that you were quite invested in what he was saying, “So, your name isn’t Kawa, is it? It’s Oikawa.”

Your lips instinctively fell into a frown as you were expecting a funny story that’d make you laugh but instead you got a fun fact which you already knew. “No shit, Sherlock.” You hissed under your breath, folding your arms over your chest.

“Yeah, well, not for long.” Kageyama proclaimed, narrowing his eyes and smirking as if he was plotting an evil scheme. 

You snorted at this then playfully hit his arm before resting your forehead against it as you felt a blush creep onto your cheeks once again, “What’s with you and marriage all of a sudden?”

Ignoring your comment, Kageyama continued to stare blankly at the ground and say, “(y/n) Kageyama. Would your brother like that?”

You shook your head against the fabric of his sweater, “Absolutely not.” You replied without hesitation. 

“Good.”

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

A Little Blood Never Hurt Anyone

Fandom: The Mentalist

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader (Reader Menstruates, but no pronouns used, reader is Marcus’ partner not specified as GF or BF)

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff​ aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long​

Rating: T (Nudity, nothing sexual though, are boy is just here to help you)

Warnings: Blood because periods and your embarrassment, but Marcus is a sweetie and he is here to help you. 

Summary: There’s one thing about Marcus that differentiates him from all your past boyfriend’s and that is that he’s an adult man who acts like an adult man. He’s mature, he’s responsible, he’s kind, he’s pragmatic and romantic. So when you’re bleeding everywhere, it surprises you, but really shouldn’t, that he’s calm, collected and just wants to take care of you.

Notes: This is a theme I come back to, I think mostly because as an adult who menstruates there’s something deeply attractive about a man who’s a actual adult and can’t handle you bleeding from your vagina like an adult and not like a child who can’t even say the word period. 

Archiveofourown

There was never a worse feeling than the slick wetness of blood pooling between your thighs at 2 in the morning. There was not a worse way to find yourself roused from sleep than to feel that sensation as blood slips down your inner thighs and pools beneath you soaking into your bed covers and clothes, this wake-up call was made exponentially worse when you realised Marcus had slept over and that you’d never even had to broach the topic of periods with him. No, no conversation had ever happened, you had no idea what his attitude was, but now you’d gone and bled over your bedding and partly on him, if the feeling of blood pooling near where he was curled around you was anything to go by. You hadn’t expected to have to deal with this with your boyfriend of four months, but you supposed it was inevitable, seeing as it happened every month. 

With a groan you push the duvet off of the two of you and sit up to assess the damage. Turning on the lamp, Marcus barely stirs as you take time to figure out what’s happened. There’s a noticeable red spot through your pajama bottoms and the fitted sheet underneath has a large wet spot too, looking to Marcus you feel embarrassment warm your cheeks at the blood stains on his pajama bottoms where he’d been curled up with you. It makes you want to cry because this is not how you wanted to wake up or spend your morning and you’ll have to wake Marcus who already has to get up early to leave for a case at 5am. He shouldn’t have to get up early and he shouldn’t have to have his pajama bottoms ruined by your blood. 

“Marcus...baby.” You shake his shoulders gently, wincing at the feeling of blood slipping down your legs as you sit up and how gross you feel in that moment. You can’t believe it came a whole week early, a whole week, how were you supposed to predict that? 

“Mmm, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick and heavy with sleep, deeper than usual if that’s possible and under any other circumstance it would make you want to curl up into him as he talked to you. 

“I...I started my period and there’s blood everywhere, I’m sorry for waking you, baby, but you need to get changed...I...I’m sorry.” It’s the embarrassment and upset in your voice that wakes him up fully, forcing him to sit up and take stock of the situation. You’re right there’s blood on him, but that’s okay, his pajamas are the ratty sort that he should have thrown out years ago anyway. You're covered in it and the bed needs changing too, but it’s okay, he thinks, this is okay, he can do that simply enough. He’s never minded changing the bed. The sheets are dark enough in colour that it shouldn’t stain too badly. He’s calculating the best course of action, what to do first before he even notices your downward gaze and trembling lip.

“Hey...honey,” He’s cupping your cheeks in his hands, large and warm. They bring your focus back onto him and not the blood that is drying on your legs or the aching that’s starting up in your lower back and abdomen. “It’s okay, a little blood never hurt anyone. Let’s get you cleaned up first, okay?” He keeps his voice soft for you, hands stroking a gentle thumb on the apple of your cheek before pressing a quick kiss to your forehead.

He’s wide awake now as he steps out of your bed and walks to your side, hands gripping your own as he walks you backwards to the bathroom. The bed can wait until he’s got you into the shower and got you some clothes and whatever else you need. You come first and you’re clearly uncomfortable as the blood flows steadily downwards with the force of gravity.

“I’m so embarrassed, Marcus…” You can’t wait to get clean, you feel horrible and uncomfortable. The lure of warm water has you picking up the pace to the bathroom even though your stomach cramps are getting worse and worse with each second. 

“Honey, you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. If it’s about the blood…” He gestures to the red stains on his sweatpants that you just know aren’t coming out with how they’ve already dried, “I’m an adult, a little blood doesn’t bother me and I needed to throw these away anyway.” 

He turns the shower on, letting it heat up as he begins to help you out of your stained pajamas. He’s certain he can get the blood out of them if he gets them in a tub to soak fast enough, the blood is fresh enough. He knows they’re your favourite pair and he’d hate for you to have to throw them away, “I don’t ever want you to be ashamed of your periods, sweetheart, it’s natural. It’s okay.”

“What did I do to deserve you?” You think back to the last couple of boyfriends, how they just couldn’t even stomach you mentioning your period let alone the sight of blood or a sanitary towel or tampon. He’s so vastly different in the maturity with which he’s handling this that it confuses you that he’s not shying away from you right now. 

“Baby,” He holds your face in his hands again once you're free of your clothes, “I don’t know what sort of guys you were dating before, but they should have helped you with this, okay? I’m not setting a new standard, I'm just doing what I should.” It breaks his heart to think that you’re ashamed of your body, of something that you can’t help and that you somehow think he’s something special for doing what anyone should do for their partner when they’re bleeding for days on end. It’s the least you should expect from him. 

“Now, get your cute butt in that shower and I'll get these clothes in a bucket and change the bedding. Do you want one of my shirts to change into? Where do you keep your tampons? Pads?” Taps you on the butt, a light tap urging you under the warm spray before gathering your clothes. 

“Yes please, I think there’s one in my closet? The flannel that you left last time? I’ve got some stuff in here in the cupboard,” You think to your stash under the sink, grateful you weren’t running out of anything. 

“The flannel, got it, honey!” 

He leaves you to your shower and strips the bed off first before anything else. The blood spot is pretty large, but it’s still wet and once again he’s pretty sure the stain will come out, especially in the darker fabric. His pajama bottoms follow, they’re probably a lost cause but he figures he might as well try and clean them just in case. He putters to your kitchen and fills your mop bucket up with cold water and stain remover, leaving the laundry in it to soak before putting it anywhere near a washing machine.

The flannel is in your chest of drawers and he grabs it along with a pair of your underwear that he’s sure are one of your comfier pairs. You’re still under the stream of hot water when he comes in to place them on the closed lid of the toilet seat.

“Got some clothes for you, sweetheart.” He takes a moment to watch you. He’s just happy to see you relaxed, sure it’s early in the morning and he’s tired, but seeing you brighten, that’s worth it. He can sleep on the plane later, it’ll take a few hours to get from DC to New York where his case is and he doesn’t mind being tired if it means your day goes a little smoother. 

“Thank you, baby.” You sigh out in response, the warm water easing some of the pain in your body. The cramps never feel as bad under warm water and your back ache eases a little bit at least. 

“Do you have a spare set of bedding?” 

“Umm…” You have to think for a moment, what did you do with your old bedding, did you throw it out? No, you wouldn’t have, surely not. “Maybe? Check the cabinet in the hallway?” 

He finds it hidden in the back of the hallway cabinet, the bedding doesn’t match the current colour scheme of your room but he doesn’t think that matters much when you just need a clean, comfy bed to fall into. He has the bed made by the time you’re walking out of the bathroom, hair dripping wet, his flannel over your shoulders. 

“Get into bed, honey.” Marcus urges you, opening up the blankets for you and sliding in besides you. 

You reach over and turn the light off, “I’m sorry I woke you up at 2am…”

“It’s okay, sweetie, you need anything else?” He asks as he wraps himself around you, arms tight around your waist, face pressed into your shoulder, dropping little kisses there. His beard tickles a little, he’s still got the thing, not that you mind. He’s warm and he smells like comfort and that’s all you can really ask for even while your uterus is having a go at you.

“Just hold me till I fall asleep?” 

“I think that can be arranged.” A leg slips between yours, toes pressed into the back of your calf and it’s like having your own living, breathing weighted blanket. He becomes a comforting weight at your back, a warmth that has your eyes drooping and you yawning into your pillow. 

                                               -------------------------

The next time you wake up it’s to say goodbye to him at 5 in the morning. He demands you stay in bed, giving you a longer than necessary kiss on his way out and making sure the laundry is in the washing machine before he leaves. You miss him the moment you hear the front door shut, but allow yourself to nuzzle back into your covers and fall back asleep. The lethargy you always feel around your period hitting you like a truck already. 

Work for the next few days is a killer. Your back aches, your stomach keeps cramping so hard you want to bend yourself in half to relieve them. You’re constantly hungry, constantly tired, and everything your co-workers say gets on your nerves. Added to missing your boyfriend, who’s off trying to deal with another stupid art thief who couldn’t wait a few more weeks before deciding to steal a Picasso, you’re having a hell of a week and a hell of a period. You’re not sure you’ve had one this bad in a while actually. 

It’s a Wednesday evening when the door to your home opens and closes again, the sound of keys being thrown on the side and shoes being kicked off meeting your ears. You’re curled up on your sofa, a hot water bottle pressed against your stomach in a vain effort to relieve some of your discomfort. 

“Marcus?” You call out because it can only be Marcus, no one else has a key to your place. You’re a little confused because he always phones you when he’s on his way back from a case, but the rustling of bags and his deep voice calling down the corridor reassures you that maybe he just forgot, it’s certainly not a burglar. Unless, he has an evil doppelganger somewhere. 

“It’s me, honey!” He drops his bag by the door, he’ll deal with the dirty laundry later and follows the sound of your voice into the living room. You’re curled up amongst what looks like every blanket you own, mind numbing TV playing that you’re not even watching, your face is scrunched up in pain and you're clutching your stomach. This part of the reason he decided to forgo going back to his own place, he wanted to check on you, make sure you’re okay, that and he really missed you.

He drops the shopping bags on the coffee table and crouches next to you, fingers pushing back strands of your hair and smoothing the harsh lines by your eyes as you wince. You’re warm to the touch and he hopes that’s normal for you and not a sign you’re getting sick on top of your period. 

“You okay?” 

“Just cramps. It’s okay...I’ll be okay., I’m just glad you’re back, I’ve missed you.” You ease into the soft feeling of fingers, the delicate little touches to your skin as rubs little circles into your temple and down your neck. You’ve missed this, missed him. You always miss him, but this period has hit you especially hard and you wanted him around more than ever.

“Missed you too, sweetheart.” He presses a quick kiss to your lips, but you grab his tie and pull him back down. Nipping at his bottom lip he opens his mouth to your tongue, hand cupping the back of your neck before you’re gasping in pain as another crump hits you. Marcus pulls back and presses his forehead to yours with a sigh and a quick kiss to your cheek. 

“Would a bath help? I stopped at the store on my way over, got some of your favourite bubblebath and those baked things that you like.” 

“Have I told you lately how you’re the perfect boyfriend?” You ask pressing kisses over his cheeks before settling for brushing your nose against his. You’re not sure how he manages to make you feel better even when you’re in pain and hormonal, but like a magic cure he does. 

“Mmm.. I don’t think so?”

“Well, you’re the perfect boyfriend and I love you very much.” You press another kiss to his lips, sighing into his mouth before pulling back and settling back into your nest of blankets. 

“I love you too, why don’t you stay here? I’ll go run that bath.” He reaches down to grab the bubblebath from the bag and tosses you a few bags of your favourite snacks to munch on while you wait. You decide then and there that anyone who ever gave him up was an absolute idiot who couldn’t see that they already had the crown jewels. Why would you ever want anyone else?

He’s never understood your fascination with burning hot bath water, but he makes it how you prefer it even if it’s a tad hot for his tastes. If he wasn’t so sore from his flight, he might have tried to carry you to the bath, but the last thing he wanted was to drop you when you weren’t feeling great, so instead he just moves your half eaten snacks to the coffee table and pulls you gently by the hands to your bathroom. 

There’s nothing sexual about the way he helps you undress, it’s something you love about Marcus, that he can put aside his libido to help you get undressed and into your bath. There’s no touches outside of the caring and gentle ones, no comments about your nudity, just him helping you get into the hot bath water. You sink into it like it’s the finest feather bed, watching him undress himself, before sliding in behind you. Legs on either side of yours, chest pressed to your back. 

Your tub is a little small for the two of you, so you can’t stretch out completely, but that’s fine because you’d take it being a little cramped and Marcus being there over being on your own. He helps you wash, careful with you at every step, gentle as he whispers how much he’s missed you, how much he loves you and tells you about his case and how they managed to catch the gang of thieves this time. 

He massages the back of your neck and shoulders as you lie against him, working on the knots that have started to form over the last few days. A pop in your neck has you sighing and you’re thankful for the press of his fingers over your spin and through the knots that have been causing you to lose sleep while he’s been gone. 

The two of you stay there until the water begins to get cool, Marcus helping you out of the tub and drying you down with a towel. He collects your clothes and helps you get dressed for bed even though you can put your things on yourself. It’s nice that you don’t have to, that he carefully slides your legs into your pajama bottoms and drags your favourite sleep shirt over your head before pressing two quick kisses to your lips and ushering you into bed. 

“Marcus, where are you going?” You ask when he leaves you there, hand grabbing his as he walks past you to the door to the rest of your home. You just want him wrapped around you right now and can’t understand why he’d leave you.

“I’m going to lock up, honey, and grab your blankets. I’ll be back.” He gives your hand a squeeze. He loves that you want him around, after all the times he’s been more invested than his partner, this time, this time it feels right. You don’t just tolerate him, you love him. You want him there and it makes every little thing he does for you infinitely more rewarding when he knows you appreciate him for everything. 

“Quickly?” You’re cute staring up at him with a pout and he knows that he wouldn’t be able to take longer than is strictly necessary when he knows you're waiting for him to come back to bed and curl up beside you.

“Quickly.” He leans over you placing a kiss to your nose before going to lock up. He makes sure all the windows are shut, the front door locked, the television off, all before grabbing the pile of blankets you’d left on the sofa to return to you.

He throws them around you, letting you grab a few to snuggle up with, before climbing in bed beside you, spooning you from behind. He takes a deep breath and feels his body relax with the familiar smell of your shampoo and the feeling of your warm skin against his cheek. He could spend the rest of his life looking after you, curling up with you after coming back from a case and he would die happy that way. He’d happily take care of you through every single period and every single bout of sickness, just as long as he gets to be with you. 

“You need anything?”

“No, everything I need is right here, baby.” You sigh back into his arms, twisting a leg through his as he rubs a hand over your stomach soothing away the lingering pains with gentle circles.

[oneirataxxiaa]

Demon Claws and Crossbow Bolts -- [chapter two]

chapter two, yayyyyy. people seemed curious about Riley, so feel free to send in an ask to ask her any questions!! This will now be the average length of chapters.

also a quick message to Dolly , I named Crossbow, Mia, after the canon daughter of Oliver and Felicity. Sorry if this isn’t alright, but I needed a name for her haha.

warnings : swearing , violence , injuries , dark topics

rating : 16+

It was raining outside when she woke up, strange considering last she remembered, it was a clear night with no clouds. Riley pushed herself up from laying down, finding fabric underneath her and above her. The bed was not well made, but the sheets and blankets were clean. Pulling the blanket down, she could see bandages - slightly tinged red with soaked blood - wrapped around her torso, it wasn’t tight, but it restricted her movement a little. Turning on her side to sit on the edge of the bed, Riley surveyed the room. It looked like a typical bedroom, various collectables on the shelves, through the half open wardrobe door she could see clothes hanging up with shoes on the floor. A few posters were tacked to the walls, some bands, movie posters, some she recognised, some she didn’t 

The bed had black sheets and a grey quilt, the pillow behind her head was a dull red in colour that she supposed matched the colour scheme the room was going for. There was one window, just across from her, above the dresser. The blinds were drawn shut, but she could hear the battering of a storm beyond the glass. Riley raised a hand to her head, running a hand through her mess of hair, then down the side of her face, feeling plasters along her cheek and jaw. Her eye was slightly swollen, though it had some sort of cream on it, and her bottom lip was still split in the middle. When her hand dropped down to her lap again, she noticed she was in different clothing. She wore a red sleeveless shirt of a sweater type material and black sweatpants that were a little too large for her. Neither of these things, she owned. Something she did own however, was the vest resting on the bedside table. It took her a good minute or two to shift the vest onto her body, wincing ever now and again

“Where are we?” She asked aloud, quietly as not to alert anyone in the building. Riley attempted to get to her feet, wincing because of both her healing injuries and the cold floor below her bare feet. It was that strange faux wood lino that you usually find in a living room. Not very good at retaining heat. Her legs hurt like hell, but had a strange numbness to them, making walking an uncomfortable experience.

“Not sure , don’t remember” Fenris replied, he sounded alert, keeping an eye out, yet behind his words was a sluggish tone that indicated that he was still extremely tired. Riley walked to the door, about to open it carefully, only to hear faint voices on the other side. 

“I just checked her bandages, you’ll probably need to change them soon if she keeps bleeding”. The voice was female, young, younger then her, but not a kid. She sounded sure of herself, not faltering on her words. ”you’ll be alright to keep an eye on her after I leave?” The question was posed towards someone else in the room. Riley moved slowly, opening the door and walking through. Down the hall was were the voices were coming from, perhaps in a living room of sorts. Riley listened to the conversation as she walked towards the sounds.

“I’ll be fine” was the curt male reply. “She’s still asleep isn’t she? Won’t be any trouble then”. Footsteps moved away from Riley, a door opening. The woman peeked around the corner, seeing two figures in the room. A shorter female at the door, about to leave, and a taller male inside the apartment. It was clear it was an apartment now, considering what she could see outside the room. The girl had brown hair, down to her shoulders in a side ponytail of shorts, sharp features accompanied by hazel eyes. She was far too young to have such a serious look in her eyes. 

“Dad said that if you need anything-”

“I don’t need his help Cross, i can handle this myself, i’m not a kid” The male crossed his arms, seeming to act defensive, though his voice didn’t change.

“I know, I get it, that’s what I told him, but you know what he’s like, he’s just being-”

“Oliver?”

“Yeah”. The girl stood there, not talking for a second. When she looked up again, she looked over the males shoulder, catching Riley in her gaze. Riley quickly moved back, leaning against the wall. 

“Oh, you’re awake, that’s good” The female walked towards her, looking around the corner. “I have to leave now ‘cause i’m meeting up with some friends of mine, but Roy’s here if you need anything, i’m Mia Queen” 

She held out a hand to shake, only for Riley to look at it with a blank expression, slowly raising an eyebrow. “This is the part where you tell me your name, and shake my hand” Mia added helpfully, holding her hand out a little further.

“Where am I?” Riley asked. Stepping around Mia and looking around the apartment, it was a bit of a mess, some discarded dishes on the sink. The carpet was rolled up on one side and the couch had a miss-match of pillows on it that made it look like someone had tried to decorate but didn’t really want to. It seemed like something she would see in her old neighbourhood. Someone who wasn’t rich, but wasn’t overly poor. A low middle class.

“You dropped through the Zeta tube in one of our safe-houses two nights ago, dead to the world and beaten to a pulp” The male talked, walking a little closer to the two girls.

He was tall, taller then Riley by a good few inches with a dark red-brown shock of hair. His eyes were light, a blue or pale green perhaps, the woman couldn't tell. What caught her eye - and she wondered how she hadn't noticed it right away - was the sleek deep grey metallic arm attached at the elbow to his left arm. It looked deadly, and the lights glowed a faint red. Who were these guys? “Who’d you piss off to get beat up that bad anyway?” Riley shook her head. 

“Some Central City villain brat” she hissed, sitting down on on the couch, moving a few of the pillows to make room. Her legs had begun to ache after standing for even that short period of time. “He’s got these terminator knock offs after me” Mia looked at her with a strange expression before hiking her bag further up her shoulder and walking towards the door. She paused by the entrance, glancing at her watch quickly.

“Alright, well you have fun with that problem - don’t kill each other, i’ll drop by later to check in!” The girl closed the door behind herself with a click, leaving the two alone. It was silent for a little while. 

“say something , they mean no harm” Fenris muttered in the back of her head, trying to get her to speak. Riley rolled her eyes at the beasts attempts.

“Wheres my bag?” She dismissed the demon, looking back towards the hallway she came out of. The boy, she assumed he was Roy as Mia had pointed out, replied. 

“In Jason's room- that’s the room you were in” Riley nodded and pushed herself to her feet, pausing as she got a headrush from getting up do fast, then walking back down the hallway. She reached the room again, and now that she was paying attention too it, written on a whiteboard on the door was ‘Jason’ in messy and broken handwriting. Around the name were a few little doodles of a red helmet and a batman symbol. Dismissing it, Riley pushed the door in and turned to close it, only for the handle to catch on her torso, hitting the wound under her bandages.

Pain shot through her stomach when he cried out, clutching it tightly and stumbling back against the side of the bed. Heavy footsteps darted down the hallway and someone stopped in the doorway. 

“What’d you do?” He sounded annoyed, leaning one arm against the door, looking down at her. 

“I hit the fucking doorknob” Riley growled, steadying her hand on the bed to pull herself to her feet. Her movements were shaky and she found herself unable to muster her usual strength.

“Be careful” Roy said, taking a step back and eyeing her getting up.

“No shit Sherlock” Riley bit back, glaring at him, Roy just rolled his eyes, ignoring the glare, and turned back down the hallway to the living room to go back to whatever he was doing before Riley woke up.

**

Two hours of sitting alone in that room gave her two things. One, was a serious hate for the ticking clock mounted on the wall above the bed. The other, was a growing sense of dread. She had been here two days, according to Roy anyways, and she didn't want to trust him - no matter what Fenris insisted - the Inventors little machines would certainly have reached here by now, right? This thought crossed her mind while looking at the darkness beyond the closed curtains. Night had fallen, and it had to be about eight o’clock when a knock at the door sounded.

“What” Riley said, sitting up on the bed, a book that she’d taken down from the shelf in her lap. The door didn’t open, but a voice called from the other side.

“Do you want food? I’m going to order something” Riley thought for a moment, she was starving. The cramping feeling in her stomach from lack of food was returning - they must have found a way to feed her while she was unconscious - and Fenris was growing restless. 

“Yeah, sure” her reply was a little reluctant, and footsteps faded down the hallway again. Turning back to her book, she decided to continue to read for a little, at least until she had finished another few chapters. It was about half an hour before she became bored with that task.  

Riley pushed herself off the bed, placing the book carefully back on the shelf and looking around the room again.She’d already noted the posters, a few of the bands were her taste, but some she didn’t know at all. The dresser had some photos on it in frames. Walking forwards, she brushed her fingers over the top of the photos. One was of two boys, perhaps around 12 or 13. One was taller, raven black hair with bright blue eyes, grinning with his arm around the other boy. The other was a little shorter, with blue eyes and redish-brown hair. Both of the boys were grinning widely at the camera. The next photo was of the same two boys about the same age, but this time they had two others in the frame. An older boy, maybe 17 or 18? and a girl who looked about 10. The boy with the auburn hair was carrying the girl on his back, her leaning her arms on his head with a grin. The older boy with dark hair and blue eyes was ruffling the hair of his younger look-alike. 

The last photo was a more recent one. The black haired boy she still didn’t recognise, but the other was clearly Roy. They were sitting on a rooftop somewhere, and it was a selfie taken by the black haired boy. There were people in the background. Riley recognised the suits of Nightwing and Artemis.

“We need to leave”

“Can’t . Injured to bad” Fenris replied, making Riley cringe. Like she didn’t know that? “sleep, need it to heal” he continued to talk, making a headache begin to throb in the back of her head. “trying to help , they can help” the sincerity in Fenris’ voice was alien and strange, but it comforted her a little that he cared so.

Another knock sounded at the door.

“Foods here”