#and offer to make me tea every time we hung out

[harmless-variety-of-garden-snake]

It's Day Fifteen, so it's the Babysitting prompt. I debated having them babysit Jee-Yun or Denny and Mara, but I miss Christopher and they probably do, too. In this universe, Eddie's move to El Paso was temporary and ended sometime in the late summer so Christopher could be back in LA for his next year of school. This is also on AO3 over here. Tagging @bucktommyfluffebruary

They’ve got Christopher for the afternoon, because Eddie has an appointment and then a couple of errands to run. He’d mentioned his schedule the day before while Buck and Tommy had been dropping a lasagna off for them, asking Christopher if he was okay following him around for a bit, and Tommy had said:

“You know, you could always drop him off with us.”

And Eddie, who'd been spending every free moment possible with his kid and working on a lot of stuff, had been almost hesitant to say yes. Then Christopher had readily agreed, because he hadn't been hung out with them in forever. Buck had turned pleading eyes on Eddie until his best friend agreed.

“Guess I should stop hogging you, kid.”

So Buck is thrilled to have Christopher over. He hasn’t had much hangout time since they came back from El Paso, but he’s also excited to show off his and Tommy’s place to one of his favorite people. Christopher has already seen it when it was just Tommy’s. He hasn’t seen it when it was theirs, though.

Christopher, being a teenager, doesn’t completely appreciate the significance of this, but he does say it’s really “cool” that they’re living together and that he likes the new couch. Buck gives Tommy a smug look over Christopher’ head, and his boyfriend makes a face at him. As far as he’s concerned, it’s the final nail in the “Buck was right in the furniture store” argument.

“You said you brought your Switch, right?” Buck asks, and Christopher nods. “Well, Tommy can hook that up while I grab us some snacks.”

“I can do it,” Christopher offers, taking a few cables from his bag.

“Nah, I got it,” Tommy says, taking everything as Christopher gets it out. “Hon, can you grab me some ice tea?”

Buck smiles and watches fondly as Christopher piles cables and plastic into Tommy's arms. “Yeah. What about you, kid?”

“Just water,” Christopher says, shrugging and smiling. “Thanks.”

He ruffles Christopher’ hair and goes into the kitchen. He’s probably going a little overboard on the tray of snacks he brings out, but he wants Christopher to be happy. He’s missed the kid like a limb, and he plops next to him on the couch and wishes Christopher wasn’t kind of too cool for cuddling now. He still gave Buck a really long hug when he arrived, but Christopher is a teenager. Teenagers don’t do couch cuddle time, though he does tip his head over onto Buck’s shoulder when Buck curls an arm around his head to kiss his hair.

“Thank you,” Christopher says, immediately going for the potato chips once Buck releases him.

Tommy reaches for his ice tea before sitting on Buck’s other side. “Thanks. Alright, we’re hooked up, kid.”

They play through a cup in Mario Kart, and Christopher beats the shit out of both of them. Buck lingers between third and sixth place the whole time, and Tommy’s only marginally better.

“I feel like this is not made for grown hands,” Tommy says, turning the Joy-Con over in his hands and giving it a dubious look.

“I have other ones, but they’ve got wires,” Christopher offers, diving into his backpack.

Tommy’s eyes light up, and he takes them when Christopher pulls out a tangle of wires with two controllers attached. “Way better. Just a sec.”

He hops up and fiddles with the Switch until he has the controllers plugged in. Christopher keeps using the small wireless controller that’s more comfortable for his hands. Buck and Tommy end up pulling their blanket chest and ottoman closer to the TV so the controller cables can reach.

“Alright, let’s try this again,” Buck says eagerly.

He does a little better, Tommy does a lot better. Suspiciously a lot better.

“We had a GameCube on base,” he explains when Buck shoots him a look of betrayal. Tommy’s older, he’s supposed to be worse with technology. “What else do you have on here, kid?”

Buck knows he shouldn’t trust the nonchalant suggestion of Super Smash Bros, and Christopher doesn’t know any better yet. He doesn’t know that Tommy Kinard is a sneaky liar, but Buck has been learning things. Like his boyfriend pretended he'd never made focaccia before so Buck could show him how, and then he'd produced a professional grade loaf on his first try.

“You were really excited. But I really don't know how to make apple pie, I swear.”

He hadn't, it was a disaster until Buck intervened.

It takes a few minutes of Tommy doing seemingly random things on the sides of the stages while Buck tries in vain to go after Christopher, and then he makes a noise of understanding and absolutely destroys them for the next three matches.

“How?” Christopher demands.

“We did a couple tournaments while we were deployed,” Tommy says with an innocent shrug.

“Uh-huh, and who won those?” Buck asks suspiciously.

“Can’t remember,” Tommy lies, grinning.

“You hustled us,” Christopher says, but he looks delighted instead of pissed. He's doubtlessly adding this to the long list of things that makes Tommy cool, which Buck is proud of these days instead of jealous. “Can you beat the CPU on the highest level?”

“I have no idea,” Tommy says, reaching back to grab a carrot stick. “Let’s see.”

What follows is unreal, according to Christopher. They watch Tommy fight a computer controlled character at each difficulty level, and he manages to get through almost all of them. The last one, though, is apparently almost impossible.

“The reaction time on that thing’s literally not physically possible,” Tommy explains as he makes Fox McCloud do something with a shield that Buck can’t follow. When he gets taken out a moment later by the CPU, he sighs and sits back. “Yeah, nope. There’s no way.”

“Let me look up exploits,” Christopher says, poking at his phone.

“Wait, yeah,” Tommy says, twisting around. “Good call, kid.”

Buck settles back and snacks while Tommy and Christopher try to figure out how to exploit an AI-driven computer character, fail several times, and finally Tommy beats one. He jumps to his feet, fists in the air, and comes around the coffee table to shake Christopher’ shoulders (gently) while they roar in each other’s faces like animals.

He loves them both, but they’re two of the biggest nerds he’s ever met.

“That was so cool!” Christopher shouts as Tommy takes a few victory gulps of his tea.

“It was,” Buck agrees, because it had been incredibly entertaining to watch.

“Aw, babe,” Tommy says, kissing the top of his head. “Thanks for putting up with us.”

“Do you wanna play something else?” Christopher asks, and Buck and Tommy exchange a look. “What?”

“How do you feel about go karts?” Tommy asks, grinning. “Not Nintendo ones.”

Christopher looks between them, his eyes going wide behind his glasses. “Wait, for real?”

They pile into Buck’s Jeep, and Christopher hums happily from the backseat when they pull away from the house.

“I missed this car,” he says, and Buck’s heart warms.

“It probably missed you,” he says, glancing in the rear view mirror at Christopher’ smiling face. “I think pretty much everything in LA missed you, kid.”

Christopher rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but Buck doesn’t miss the smile that’s still on his face. Tommy’s hand covers his and squeezes, and Buck lifts it to his lips to kiss it and presses his cheek to the back of Tommy’s hand.

When he gets them safely to the go karting place, Tommy splits off from them to use the bathroom, and Buck hugs Christopher against his side while they scope out the track.

“I missed you, too,” Christopher says, and Buck bends down to kiss his hair. “Even though you and Tommy are all gross still. Dad said you’d mellow out by now, but I said you’d probably be like this even after you get married.”

Buck lets out a strangled laugh at that. “Married? Who said we’re getting married?”

Christopher looks at him like he’s lost his mind. “You guys are totally getting married one day. You’re, like, soulmates.”

He looks around to make sure Tommy isn’t sneaking up on them before leaning in and admitting: “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we are. Which also means that I get to ask you before I ask anyone else to be one of my groomsmen.”

He gets a considering look that makes Christopher look way too much like his father. “Do I get to go to the bachelor party?”

Buck barks out a laugh. “Not a chance, kid.”

Christopher groans. “Can you guys wait until I’m 18, then?”

“Dude, I’m not delaying my wedding so you can go to a bachelor party.” He squeezes Christopher’ shoulder and laughs when the kid sighs loudly and dramatically. “Don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“Promise,” Christopher says, raising his pinky. Buck’s breath catches, and he carefully hooks his pinky around Christopher’. “Can I bring a date?”

Buck’s laughing when Tommy comes up on his other side and asks if they’re ready to race.

“I call Christopher,” Tommy says quickly, and Buck lets out a squawk of outrage. “You snooze, you lose, Buckley.”

On the track, he catches sight of Tommy and Christopher more than once and can hear their shouts of joy even over the noise of the engines. He can’t even be mad when they beat him.

“What do I win?” Tommy asks, bouncing once on his toes. He's adorable, Buck wants to squeeze the life out of him.

“I can still hear you,” Christopher reminds them from where he’s texting Eddie. “Before you answer that.”

“You’ve been spending way too much time with your dad,” Buck mutters, but he gives Tommy a kiss. “There. But also, there’s no way you’re winning the next one, because Christopher is coming with me.”

He still loses, because Tommy’s Mario Kart skills apparently translate well to real karts.

“Okay, now what do I win?” Tommy asks smugly.

“A high-five,” Christopher says flatly, raising his hand.

Tommy slaps it. “I’ll take it. You guys want to go around the corner? There’s a good wing spot.”

“Hell yeah,” Buck says, looping an arm around his waist.

As they walk outside and around the corner, Buck leans over and kisses his cheek.

“I’ll give you your prize later,” he promises in a low voice so Christopher can’t hear from where he’s a couple paces ahead of them.

“Yeah?” Tommy murmurs back. “Wanna give me a hint?”

“Dude,” Christopher says.

“There’s no way you heard that!” Buck protests.

“I didn't need to.” He stops so they can catch up with him and shakes his head. “You guys are like the kids at school who make out between classes.”

Tommy scoffs. “I think we have a little more self-control than—”

“Don't lie around the kid, Tommy,” Buck says with a sigh, looping an arm around his boyfriend's waist and letting the other one fall across Christopher’ shoulders. “We’re supposed to set a good example.”

Tommy slips away to go a few steps ahead to get the door to the wing place. “Are we? Because I thought we were about to have a wing eating contest.”

“Yeah, good examples of how to dominate at wing eating contests.” Buck presses a quick kiss to his lips as he passes.

They grab a table as Tommy and Christopher negotiate the terms of the contest, and Buck sends a text to Eddie to let him know that they're feeding Christopher along with a photo of the three of them before Christopher heads into the bathroom.

“I think we're about to win as best babysitters,” Tommy decides, stretching his arms over his head. “I can feel it in my bones.”

Buck huffs out a laugh. “Like that was ever a question. We're definitely the best. Right?”

“We gotta be.”

When Christopher gets back from the bathroom, he looks between them like they’re crazy when they ask him.

“Yeah, duh,” he says, and Buck fistbumps his boyfriend. “Aren't you guys too old to care about stuff like that?”

“Yeah, totally,” Tommy lies.

“Yep,” Buck agrees, also lying through his teeth. “Way too old.”

[kentucky-daisey]

Weird moment of loneliness and I'm crushed that I don't have anyone in my life who cares enough about me to know stupid little things about me like that my favourite cake is carrot cake or that i really love the smell of wet soil.

[lxvebun]

silent confessions

synopsis: the genshin men crushing on you and the little ways they show they care.

content: Kaeya/Venti/Alhaitham/ Arataki Itto x gender neutral reader. First time writing for venti so apologies if its a lil off. Fluff. Friends to lovers. Kissing in kaeya's. wingman diluc honestly. Going a lil feral in alhaithams and ittos. Use of nickname dear and cecilia<3 They are all quite long but I hope you all enjoy it! Not completely proofread. Let me know if there are any annoying mistakes!

⁎⁺˳✧༚ Kaeya໒꒱.*

Diluc is sure of three things. One, You're hands down single-handedly keeping the icedtea business alive in Mondstadt, his arms are still hurting from the heavy crates of imported tea from Liyue he has to carry every. Single. Week. Two, you're incredibly oblivious, three, kaeya is a lovesick fool.

Even though diluc has offered to deliver some iced tea crates to your home, it seems that you prefer to drink his stash empty at the bar next to kaeya.

It's making him ill really, seeing the way his brothers eyes keep drifting to your lips and how his hands inch closer to yours, still never really touching. Diluc almost doesn't recognize him. Kaeya is not the type to get flustered easily, if anything, try to make him flustered and it will backfire! but here he is, for hours sitting at the bar head leaning on his hands staring at you like you hung the stars.

You fail to notice how, despite not touching your drink for so long, at one point even dancing around the tavern when the bard played your favorite song, the icecubes in your glass never seem to melt and the tea never gets warm. It's the least he can do, Kaeya would be showing you more grand gestures of love if you didnt make his head fog up with hearts and flowers everytime your near.

"I'm going to use the bathroom, i'll be right back! "You say as you hop of the barstool and make your way to the second floor.

"This, is getting sad you know", diluc speaks as he snatches both yours and Kaeya's glass away, dodging quick enough as Kaeya tries to get it back

"Oh i'm sorry, I didn't know my love life was such an interesting show to you. I'll make sure to tell the writers"

Stupid arrogant oblivious brother of his

He's not gentle as he grabs one of the big pints, pours your favorite iced tea in with the ice cubes and slices of lemon and two straws this time and places it down infront of kaeya.

"I'm doing you a favor icicle"

Kaeya's unable to retort a remark back because you're sitting down next to him again.

"Ooh whats this, luc?" As you stir the tea with your straw, the ice cubes gently clinking against the edges of the glass

"On the house, it's the last"-he throws you a look- bit of icetea I have for tonight. Enjoy." And with that he steps out the backdoor for a break leaving you and kaeya in an almost empty tavern

He's feeling uncharacteristically shy sharing a drink like this. He's not sure he can contain the love confession thats lingering on his lips if you're that close to eachother. You snap him out of his thoughts before he can even try.

"Come on try this with me...its...its quite romantic don't you think" you say, a little timid

Youre killing him. Hes deceased y/n.

"Yeah, didn't- didnt realise Diluc had a romantic bone in him, guess it runs in the family after all"

You're not sure where you got the courage from for what you're about to say

"Maybe, we should do more of these romantic things together."

And just like that, knowing you shared his feelings, he got a bit of his charming wit back.

"My dear y/n- he starts, leaning down closer to you, one icy hand holding yours. Are you asking me out on a date" he wants to revel in making you flustered but he's pretty sure he looks just as flustered as you do.

"Only if you want to, Kaeya"

The way he presses his lips to yours gives you the answer you needed<3

Venti, alhaitham and itto under the cut!

⁎⁺˳✧༚ Venti໒꒱.*

Archons, the summer this time around is way hotter than any summers before. It's scorching outside and if it weren't for your knight of favonius duties, duties you took over for the Cavalry Captain for his day off (>:( ), you would stay inside the cool headquarters, in your little office with the curtains closed.

You really should get going but you're delaying stepping outside. The favonius headquarters is nice and cool and and looking outside you can see the heat radiating from the stone pathways

You're a knight of favonius! A little sunshine isn't going to hurt! You try to hype yourself up as you make it to the entrance. You can do this, who knows, you might even get a tan.

Bracing yourself and pushing the heavy doors open, you're pleasantly surprised at how the wind immediately seems to pick up and twirl and flow around you in cooling circles. Yes, the sun is still beaming down in all his glory, but the breeze definitely helps. You may even get through this without breaking too much of a sweat.

As you're doing your errands and run basically all over Mondstadt, the gentle breeze surrounding you never seems to falter, even now, as you carry heavy crates of sunsettias and apples up the stairs to Good Hunter, it actually seems like the wind has started to pick up, aiding you in its own way.

Sara is more than grateful as you place the crates down in the back for her. "You're a lifesaver y/n, please, go sit down and i'll whip something up for you".

Who are you to deny a break and a free meal?

Before you sit down you take off your sword and place it down next to you so you can completely unwind. It's not until you look back up from your weapon that you see Venti, with the bright smile he always seems to carry, sitting infront of you

"Hi, my sweet cecilia"

Archons, that nickname. You're lucky you can blame the weather on the sudden warmth flowing through your body.

"You're awfully happy for such a hot day, Venti"

He doesn't provide an answer to that, why is he so happy? Because he's with you of course, he's basically been spending the whole day with you, how could he not be happy?

instead of saying that tho he says "the wind is nice, hmm?" And On cue the wind stars to pick up again, now carrying the scent of the meal Sara is cooking up for you and twirling a few flower petals that got caught in it around you You little

"Yeah it is, i'm not sure I would have been able to get through the day without a little breeze in my face" you laugh and it's the sweetest melody he's ever heard.

"I guess the anemo archon has a soft spot for me"

"I suppose he does"

You fail to catch the longing glint in his eyes and the blush covering his cheeks as Sara brings you your meal<3

Oh my dear y/n if only you knew.

⁎⁺˳✧༚ Alhaitham໒꒱.*

It's not until Kaveh points it out, after Alhaitham leaves to pick up another book from the House of Daena library shelves, that you realize it, but it seems that Alhaitham, despite looking like he wants to be anywhere but here, always seems to look out for you.

Like the time he dragged you to the desert to study runes with him, he made sure every time you two stood still for a long time, he'd raise his cape a little above your head, sheltering you from the burning sun

And that one time where he grabbed your arm and pulled you into his side when some drunkards stumbling home almost bumped into you

"Drop your pen when he gets back" kaveh says, breaking you out of your thoughts.

"Drop my-"

"Sshh, just do it" he hushes quickly and goes back to drawing as Alhaitham sits back down next to you with a new book in his hand.

You let Alhaitham read a few more pages before you "accidentally" drop your pen under the table, sliding your seat back and ducking under to retrieve it, when you look back up to avoid hitting your head on the corner of the table, Alhaithams hand is already covering it. His gaze is still as focused as ever on the book infront of him, it's almost like it happened entirely subconsciously, like it was already engraved in his perception to look out for you and that alone made the butterlies in your tummy flutter around. You don't miss the "I told you so" gaze Kaveh throws at you.

Alhaithams book manages to hide the gentle smile he failed to hold back as he guesses from the look on your face and body language that you're onto him, and if he can guess one more time, he'd say the feelings are mutual.

He doesn't say anything but he does reach under you to grab the leg of your chair and pull you closer to him, arm draped behind you over the backrest, gently drawing shapes on your shoulder as he continues to read his book

*Did ya'll see that one nick jonas clip where he pulls her chair closer? Yeah? Thats alhaitham.

⁎⁺˳✧༚ Arataki Itto໒꒱.*

The locals of Inazuma are used to the never ending thundering and lightning. Even on clear days, it seems like you can always hear it lurking in the distance, dancing over the seas. Unfortunately for you, you’re not a local and despite having been here for a while, long enough to develop strong friendships and perhaps a little crush <3 the loud claps of thunder and the lightning that cracks open the clouds still make you flinch

You were embarrassed about it, so you never voiced it out to your friends. You would just try to hide your flinches and do your best to block out the noise. You're not doing that very well unfortunately. Itto has noticed, and boy does it make his heart hurt a little every time he catches you trying to hide it. You're part of the gang! Whether you know  that or not, you're supposed to be able to tell him these things! but he understands, you seem to think that you're going to look weak in front of Arataki numero uno claymore swinging devil beatbox and beetle fighting legend Itto. He made me write this really You could never considering he gets weak in the knees everytime you make eye contact or touch his horns

So as the leader of your gang, your best friend and hopefully future boyfriend, he’s gonna help you because If there's one thing Itto is good at its being loud. It’s quite hard to hear the thunder lurking in the background when Itto's boisterous laugh as he’s "winning" a game of TCG seems to overpower everything, including the way your heart beats a little faster when he smiles at you.

You didn’t notice what he was doing until there was a summer storm forecasted. You didn't even have time to mentally prepare yourself for it before there was a harsh knocking at your door, maybe a bit to hard itto pls dont break the door

"Open up sunshine, I have some snacks :D"

He’s quick to make himself comfortable as you let him in, throwing the impressive amount of snacks and some card games on the coffee table and then taking up half the space on the couch, being careful to not knock the lamp on the sidetable down with his horns.

"Not that I mind Itto, but i didn't expect you to come over. Any reasons?"

"Yeah you're"- he cuts himself off. You never told him about your fear of thunder, would it upset you if you knew he figured it out?, archons he didnt think of an excuse what should he say, where is Kuki in times like this

"Yeah, I just thought i’d keep you some company because I AM afraid of summerstorms, yup, totally terrifying, so scary,so here i am."

Even he knows it's not believable. Especially since he has directed some...colorful words with the shogun before (not in her presence)

You are afraid”-

AND AND I thought, you know, maybe, since were all going to be locked up in our houses anyway we could have a little at home date......:D

Archons, Itto, if the storm isn't going to kill you its him. He's been aware of your fear and silently tried to help you with it? And now he has basically slipped a confession in trying to hide the fact he knows about your fear? He's such a teddybear fr

You don't fight the smile that's pulling at the corners of your mouth as you sit down next to him. Pressing a kiss to his cheek and pretending not to notice the hitch in his breath "Thank you, Itto"

Thank you for reading angels!<3

[sinkovia]

Selfish asshole

Simon “Ghost” Riley x Fem!Reader

Fluff w/ slight Angst

The bond between you and Ghost had always been deep, a connection that went beyond words. In the subtle gestures and the extra efforts, your love for him remained a secret. Ghost, perceptive as ever, saw the signs – the smiles, the looks, the special attention reserved just for him and he loved every bit of it. You always went the extra mile for him, making sure his mornings started with a cup of tea, ready by the time he came down from his barracks.

You stayed up late with him when he couldn't sleep, offering your comforting presence. You were always there for him, and he appreciated that more than words could express. Ghost cherished you, you were so beautiful in his eyes. He found comfort in the sound of your voice and the way you looked at him as if he were more than just a soldier.

Ghost couldn't help but feel a warmth in his heart every time you were around.

Yet, beneath the surface, a silent struggle unfolded within him. He recognized the love growing within your heart, mirroring the emotions he held but could never admit. The unspoken truth became a weight, and he made a painful decision to distance himself. In his eyes, you deserved more than what he believed he could offer.

Haunted by his past and perceiving himself as a mere shell, Ghost felt a duty to spare you from the darkness that clung to him. He became distant, withdrawing from the closeness you once shared, hoping you'd find happiness elsewhere. The short responses and a subtle coldness were his way of urging you to move on, to seek love with someone who could provide the life he thought you deserved.

It was a choice Ghost made out of love, even if it meant sacrificing his own feelings.

The change in Ghost's behavior was immediately noticeable. He started his days earlier, and the morning tea ritual you once shared slowly faded away.

As the days went by, the once vibrant connection between you two started to fade. The warmth in his eyes dimmed, and the shared moments that used to bring you joy now felt like distant memories. It was as if he had built an impenetrable wall around himself, shutting you out.

You found yourself at a loss, trying to comprehend what had gone wrong. Hurt and confusion crept into your heart as you grappled with the unexplained distance. You missed him more than words could explain. The ache grew, prompting you to confront him about it.

"Hey, do you think we can—" Your words hung in the air as he turned abruptly, walking away. Determined to have answers, you gently reached for his arm, concern etched on your face. But before you could express your worries, he snapped, his voice laced with irritation.

"Don't fucking touch me." He yanked his arm away, leaving you shocked by the sudden change. In all the time you'd known him, he had never raised his voice at you.

"Please just tell me what's wrong. Why are you pushing me away? Was it something I said?"

He glanced around, a momentary flicker of sadness crossing his eyes before the familiar cold mask returned. Towering over you, he stared into your eyes, contemplating something. The cold, dead expression dominated, and the words he spoke cut through your heart.

"You're always bothering me, following me around like a lost puppy! You never give me my fucking space!" Your lips parted, face etched in disbelief and pain.

“You don't mean that.” The words barely escaped in a whisper, your heart breaking.

“I do. Now leave me alone.”

His gaze softened as he saw your teary-eyed expression, regret clouding his eyes. The harsh words he yelled were filled with remorse, but he believed they were necessary lies to push you away. With your heart shattered, you turned and walked away, leaving Ghost alone with his regrets and self-imposed isolation. He hoped that the hurtful words would be enough for you to move on, to find someone better. As you hurried to your room, tears streaming down your face, you ran into Soap, further entangling your emotions in the web of confusion and pain.

"Bloody hell lass, are you okay?"

You broke down in the hallway, pouring your heart out to Soap about your feelings for Ghost and what he had said to you when you tried to talk to him. Anger fueled him, and he stormed away to find Ghost. Entering the rec room, he found him sitting alone on the couch. Ghost's eyes met Soap's as he was about to ask what he was doing, but Soap's knuckles collided with his jaw.

Soap, who knew Ghost felt the same way about you, couldn't fathom why he would say something hurtful to you.

"You're pathetic, Ghost, you know that?" he staggered back from the impact, shock evident in his wide eyes.

"You're a fucking coward." Soap's frustration echoed in his voice as he berated him for hurting your feelings when he knew you both loved each other. Ghost got up, towering over Soap, breathing quickening. He pushed passed him to walk away, but Soap spoke up again.

"You hate Y/n, admit it."

Ghost stopped dead in his tracks, turned, and walked up to Soap, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt.

"You don't know anything about how I feel. You have no idea how I feel about her. If I told her how I really felt, she would drop everything to be with me. She would sacrifice everything good in her life for me because that's the type of person she is. She's perfect, Soap, the best thing that has ever happened to me. She's too good for someone like me. I won't let myself ruin her. I refuse to let that happen."

You had been standing at the entrance of the rec room, hearing everything. Soap's gaze shifted to you, and Ghost quickly turned around. His eyes widened in shock as you walked up to him with anger in your eyes. Without hesitation, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face.

"You selfish asshole."

Both Ghost and Soap's eyes widened, not expecting such a reaction from you.

"Why can't you let yourself be happy for once in your life Ghost? I love you more than anything. I don't care if you think you're not good enough for me. You are enough. You are more than enough, Ghost. You make me so happy. Please just let me do the same for you."

Ghost opened his mouth to object, but you quickly put your finger up, shushing him.

"I'll be at Maggianos at 8pm tomorrow night. If you don't show then I'll have my answers and if you do then it's a date." with that you turned and walked out of the rec room.

The next evening, you were sitting in a booth by yourself waiting. You checked the time on your phone, It was 8:05. You wondered if he would show up. You gave him five more minutes and still, he had not come. You sigh and get up from the booth, as you were turning to leave you saw him standing there, flowers in hand and his mask off.

You smile as he walks up to you and hands you the flowers. "Your late"

"I know, I'm sorry"

Seated across from each other, you spent hours talking over dinner, sharing a romantic night. As the night grew late, you both returned to the base together. Walking you to your room, Ghost lingered, and you chatted for a few moments before bidding each other farewell. As he began to leave while you unlocked your door, he suddenly turned around, cupping your face and planting a soft kiss on your lips.

"I couldn't spend another second wondering what it felt like, I'm sorry," he whispered against your lips. Smiling, you responded by gently placing your hand behind his neck and pulling him into another soft kiss.

Pulling away, he smiled down at you, admiring your features. Despite not being religious, he thanked god for having someone as pure and perfect as you in his life. "Goodnight, Y/n."

"Goodnight, Ghost."

"Simon," he said, gazing down at you with a gaze full of love.

"Goodnight, Simon." The sound of his name coming from you made his heart swell, and he planted a kiss on your forehead before walking back to his room. Smiling, you entered yours, closing the door behind you.

You found yourself lying on your bed, basking in the afterglow of the evening. The room held a serene ambiance as you reflected on the moments you two shared.

Thoughts of how good your life had become flooded your mind, and a contented smile graced your face. The memory of the date lingered, and you couldn't help but replay the sweet moments, the laughter, and the connection you felt.

Your thoughts shifted to the warmth of Simon's lips, savoring the tender kisses exchanged. The sensation lingered, and you found yourself lost in the euphoria of the moment. As you lay there, the room filled with a sense of fulfillment, your heart swelled with gratitude for the happiness that had found its way into your life.

[okasuka]

waduh - damian wayne x reader btw

Chapter 1: The Curse

It was supposed to be a simple mission.

Klarion the Witch Boy had been spotted in Gotham, wreaking his usual havoc. Damian and Y/N had been sent to confront him while the rest of the Batfamily dealt with the chaos spreading across the city.

Damian had charged ahead, his katana gleaming under the moonlight, every movement calculated and precise. Y/N, ever the stoic strategist, had hung back, analyzing the battlefield.

“You should wait,” Y/N said calmly, adjusting her glasses as Klarion floated above them, cackling.

“Tt. I don’t need to wait,” Damian snapped, his green eyes narrowing. “I can handle him.”

Y/N sighed, already anticipating disaster. “It’s not about handling him. He’s chaotic. Charging in—”

“Too late!” Klarion sang, his hands glowing with sickly green light. With a flick of his wrist, the ground beneath them cracked and trembled. “You Bat-people are no fun at all! Let’s make this more interesting.”

Y/N dove to the side as a burst of magic shot past her, but Damian pressed forward, leaping into the fray.

“Klarion!” Damian snarled, swinging his blade with precision.

“Oh, you’re feisty!” Klarion giggled, dodging effortlessly. “But let’s see how well you fight when you’re stuck with a partner forever!”

The spell hit before Y/N could react. A blinding flash of green light enveloped her and Damian, and suddenly, a glowing thread of energy snapped into place between them.

“What the—” Y/N staggered back, her hand instinctively reaching for her utility belt.

Damian froze, his katana still raised. “What did you do?”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Klarion said with a wink before vanishing into thin air.

Back at the Batcave

The glowing thread pulsed faintly as Y/N and Damian stood awkwardly in the center of the Batcave. Bruce sat at the Batcomputer, studying the magical residue on the tether, while Alfred stood nearby, offering tea to everyone present.

Jason lounged against the Batmobile, smirking. “So let me get this straight—you two are magically handcuffed together? That’s hilarious.”

“It’s not hilarious,” Damian snapped, tugging at the tether in frustration. The thread stretched slightly but snapped back, pulling Y/N a step closer to him.

“Stop pulling,” Y/N said flatly.

“I’m not pulling; you’re standing too far away.”

“Or maybe you’re too close.”

Tim, sitting nearby with a tablet, raised an eyebrow. “This is like watching a rom-com. All that’s missing is the banter about how much you secretly like each other.”

Damian shot him a glare that could have melted steel. “I will end you.”

“Enough,” Bruce said, his deep voice cutting through the bickering. He turned his chair to face them, his expression as unreadable as ever. “Klarion’s magic is unpredictable, but it always has a loophole. We’ll figure it out. Until then, you’ll need to stay close. The tether won’t allow you to be more than five feet apart.”

Jason snickered. “You two are going to have so much fun.”

Y/N adjusted her glasses and sighed. “This is going to be a nightmare.”

Chapter 2: First Day of Being Stuck

The next morning, Y/N woke to the sound of someone knocking on her bedroom door.

“Get up,” Damian’s voice called from the other side.

She groaned, pushing herself upright and adjusting her glasses. The tether glowed faintly, stretching as Damian pulled on it from the hallway.

“Give me a minute,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair.

“No. We have training,” Damian said sharply.

Y/N opened the door to find him standing there, fully dressed in his usual black and green workout gear. His scowl deepened as he looked her over.

“You’re still in your pajamas?”

“I don’t train at six in the morning,” she said, stepping back to grab her gear.

“You do now.”

The Training Room

The session was a disaster.

Damian moved with his usual speed and precision, expecting Y/N to keep up, but the tether pulled taut every time she tried to find her rhythm. She landed a solid jab on the punching bag, only for Damian to stumble as the thread yanked him off balance.

“Stop pulling,” Damian snapped.

“I’m not pulling. You’re moving too fast,” Y/N replied evenly, wrapping her hands again.

“You’re slowing me down.”

“You’re impatient.”

Their voices echoed through the training room, drawing the attention of Dick, who wandered in mid-argument.

“Everything okay in here?” he asked, grinning as he leaned against the wall.

“Leave,” Damian said curtly, his glare promising violence.

Dick ignored him, his gaze shifting to Y/N. “How are you holding up?”

Y/N adjusted her gloves, her expression calm. “Fine. Just adjusting.”

Dick’s grin widened. “Good luck with that. Damian’s not exactly great at sharing space.”

“I don’t need luck,” Y/N replied.

Damian muttered something under his breath, but Dick just chuckled. “Well, if you need a referee, let me know.”

The Batcave (Later That Day)

By the time patrol rolled around, the tension between Damian and Y/N was palpable. Jason, watching them suit up, couldn’t resist a jab.

“So, how’s life as conjoined twins?”

“Shut up, Todd,” Damian snapped, yanking on his cape.

Jason raised his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m just saying—it’s kind of cute how you two are stuck together. Like a buddy cop movie.”

Y/N ignored him, double-checking the straps on her gloves. Her scars, illuminated under the harsh cave lighting, caught Jason’s attention for a moment. He tilted his head, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face, but he said nothing.

“Are we done here?” she asked, her tone as flat as ever.

Bruce nodded, stepping forward. “Remember—coordination is key. The tether will force you to move as one. Don’t let it slow you down.”

“Understood,” Y/N said.

Damian rolled his eyes. “Let’s go.”

Chapter 2 (Continued): First Day of Being Stuck

Patrolling Gotham while tethered to Damian Wayne was as exasperating as Y/N had anticipated. The thread glowed faintly in the dark alleys of the Narrows, a constant reminder of their predicament. Every movement required precision, every step carefully coordinated. Damian, with his relentless speed and sharp instincts, moved through the shadows like a blade, and Y/N struggled to adapt. She was a calculated fighter, relying on deliberate strikes and endurance, whereas Damian preferred swift, aggressive tactics.

When the first group of thugs appeared, Damian lunged forward without hesitation, his katana flashing in the dim light. Y/N had to pivot quickly to avoid the tether pulling her off balance, landing a solid punch to the nearest thug’s jaw. Her boxing skills were precise, each movement designed to conserve energy while delivering maximum impact.

“Stay out of my way,” Damian barked as he spun, deflecting a crowbar aimed at his side.

“I’m not in your way,” she replied flatly, driving her elbow into another attacker’s ribs. “You’re in mine.”

“Tt. Unlikely.”

Despite their constant bickering, their combined efforts overwhelmed the group. By the time the last thug hit the ground, Y/N was breathing heavily, her glasses slightly askew. She adjusted them with one hand, glancing at Damian as he wiped his blade on a thug’s jacket.

“You’re reckless,” she said, her tone even but laced with quiet disapproval.

Damian’s green eyes snapped to hers, sharp and unyielding. “And you’re slow.”

Before she could respond, a voice crackled through their comms.

“Everything okay over there?” Dick’s cheerful tone echoed in their ears.

Damian growled softly, tapping his earpiece. “We’re fine, Grayson.”

“Really? Because you sound like you’re one insult away from killing each other.”

Y/N sighed, tilting her head slightly to look at the sky. “We’re managing.”

“Sure you are,” Dick replied, amusement clear in his voice. “Try not to kill each other before you find Klarion, okay?”

The comm went silent, leaving them in the heavy, tension-filled quiet of Gotham’s streets. Damian sheathed his sword and began walking, forcing Y/N to follow.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said curtly.

Y/N didn’t argue, though the irritation simmering beneath her calm demeanor was hard to ignore.

Chapter 3: Growing Frustrations

The next day started just as poorly as the first. Y/N had barely had time to finish her breakfast before Damian was tugging at the tether, dragging her toward the training room.

“You could at least wait until I’m done eating,” she said, holding her plate with one hand as she followed him down the hall.

“We don’t have time to waste,” Damian replied without looking back.

The training session that followed was a study in frustration. Damian’s strikes were fast and precise, but the tether forced him to adjust his movements, and he hated every second of it. Y/N, on the other hand, tried to maintain her usual calm focus, but the constant tug of the tether threw her off balance.

“You’re hesitating,” Damian said sharply as he parried one of her punches. “Stop overthinking and hit me.”

“I’m not hesitating,” Y/N replied, her voice steady. She feinted left, then aimed a jab at his shoulder. “You’re rushing.”

Damian blocked the punch, his movements fluid despite his irritation. “If I were rushing, you wouldn’t be able to keep up.”

The sparring match ended when the tether pulled them together mid-movement, causing them to collide awkwardly. Y/N stumbled back, adjusting her glasses, while Damian scowled and stepped away.

“This is ridiculous,” he muttered, rubbing his temple.

Y/N leaned against the wall, catching her breath. “Agreed.”

The door to the training room opened, and Jason strolled in, a grin spreading across his face as he took in the sight of them.

“You two look like you’re having fun,” he said, leaning casually against the wall.

Damian shot him a glare. “Leave, Todd.”

“Relax, I’m just here to observe.” Jason’s gaze flicked to Y/N, lingering on the faint scars visible beneath her rolled-up sleeves. “You’ve got some battle wounds there, huh?”

Y/N didn’t respond, her expression unreadable. She adjusted the wraps on her hands, focusing on the task rather than the scars.

Jason chuckled, pushing off the wall. “Well, good luck, you two. Try not to kill each other before Klarion shows up again.”

As he left, Damian turned to Y/N, his expression unreadable. “Your scars. Where did you get them?”

Y/N paused, her fingers still on the wraps. “Missions. Mistakes.”

Damian’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned away. “They’re proof of survival. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Y/N didn’t respond, but the faintest flicker of something crossed her face—acknowledgment, perhaps, or understanding.

Chapter 4: Confrontation and Breakthrough

Three days into their ordeal, Klarion finally made his reappearance. Tracking him down had been exhausting, but now Y/N and Damian stood in a dark warehouse on the edge of Gotham, ready to face the witch boy once more.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite duo,” Klarion said, floating above them with a grin. His familiar, Teekl, purred lazily at his side. “How’s the bonding going?”

“Undo the curse, Klarion,” Damian demanded, his katana glinting in the dim light.

“Why would I do that?” Klarion twirled his fingers, sending a burst of green energy spiraling toward them. “You two are so entertaining like this!”

Y/N sidestepped the attack, her movements perfectly timed with Damian’s as they avoided the blast. They had spent days learning to coordinate, and it finally paid off. Damian deflected another burst of magic with his blade while Y/N closed the distance, landing a solid punch to Klarion’s side.

“Ow!” Klarion yelped, clutching his ribs. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Neither are you,” Y/N replied evenly, dodging another attack.

Damian pressed the advantage, his strikes fast and relentless. Y/N matched his pace, their movements finally in sync as they forced Klarion on the defensive. The tether between them glowed brightly, pulsing with energy as they fought as one.

With a final, well-coordinated strike, Damian’s blade sliced through the magical energy surrounding Klarion, and Y/N’s punch sent him sprawling to the ground.

“Fine, fine!” Klarion cried, holding up his hands. “You win! Curse lifted!”

The tether dissolved in a flash of light, leaving Y/N and Damian standing side by side, breathing heavily.

Klarion vanished with a pout, muttering something about ungrateful humans.

As the silence settled, Damian glanced at Y/N. “You fought well.”

“So did you,” she replied, adjusting her glasses.

Chapter 5: Resolution and Reflection

Back at the manor, the absence of the tether was both a relief and a strange adjustment. Y/N retreated to her room, taking comfort in the familiar clutter of comics and boxing gear. She sat on the edge of her bed, unwrapping her hands and staring at the faint scars crisscrossing her skin.

A knock at the door interrupted her thoughts.

“Come in,” she said, her voice even.

The door opened, and Damian stepped inside, his expression uncharacter istically hesitant. He stood in the doorway for a moment, his eyes scanning the mess of her room—the comics scattered across the floor, the worn boxing gloves on her desk, the faint outlines of training routines scribbled on sticky notes attached to her mirror.

“You’re not what I expected,” he said finally, his voice quiet.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, folding her arms as she leaned back against the bedpost. “What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, stepping further into the room. His gaze lingered on her hand wraps, now discarded on her nightstand. “Something more… orderly.”

Y/N chuckled softly, a rare sound that barely curved her lips. “Not everyone is as disciplined as you, Damian. Some of us thrive in chaos.”

Damian crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “You don’t seem like the type to thrive in chaos. You’re… controlled. Calculated.”

She looked at him for a moment, studying his sharp features and the tension that seemed permanently etched into his posture. “Control doesn’t come naturally,” she said finally. “It’s something you learn when chaos is the only thing you’ve ever known.”

He tilted his head slightly, his curiosity evident despite his usual stoicism. “Your scars. You said they were from mistakes. What kind of mistakes?”

Y/N looked down at her hands, tracing the faint lines on her palms. “The kind you don’t see coming. The kind that teach you how to survive.” She glanced up at him, her gaze steady. “And the kind that remind you why you have to keep fighting.”

Damian didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stepped closer, his green eyes scanning her face. “You’re strong,” he said, the words deliberate. “Not just physically. It’s… commendable.”

For a moment, Y/N was taken aback. Compliments weren’t something Damian Wayne handed out lightly. She inclined her head slightly, the faintest hint of gratitude flickering in her expression. “You’re not so bad yourself, Damian.”

He smirked faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable in a way neither of them was used to, an understanding passing between them that didn’t need words. Finally, Damian straightened, turning toward the door.

“You’ll be ready for training tomorrow morning,” he said, his tone back to its usual commanding edge.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was no real annoyance in her voice when she replied. “As long as you let me finish breakfast this time.”

He paused in the doorway, glancing back at her. “We’ll see.”

And with that, he left, the door clicking softly shut behind him.

Y/N leaned back against the bed, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. For all his arrogance and sharp edges, Damian Wayne wasn’t so impossible to deal with after all.

Epilogue

Over the next few weeks, things between them shifted. The tension that had once defined their interactions softened into something that felt almost like camaraderie. During missions, they moved in perfect sync, their trust in each other’s abilities growing with every fight. In the training room, their bickering became less combative and more teasing, the sharp edges of their words dulled by mutual respect.

The Batfamily, of course, noticed the change. Jason teased them relentlessly, while Dick gave them knowing smiles that made Y/N want to punch him. Tim just raised an eyebrow and muttered something about “finally.”

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, Y/N sat on the rooftop of the manor, looking out over the city. The scars on her hands caught the moonlight as she traced them absentmindedly, her thoughts drifting.

Damian appeared beside her, silent as always. He didn’t say anything at first, simply sitting down and gazing out at the skyline.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Y/N said after a moment.

“I was thinking,” he replied, his voice softer than usual. “About how much has changed since… Klarion.”

Y/N glanced at him, her brow furrowing slightly. “Changed how?”

Damian met her gaze, and for once, there was no trace of his usual defensiveness. “I’ve learned that strength isn’t just about discipline or precision. It’s about resilience. About finding a way to keep going, even when everything feels impossible.”

Her lips quirked into a faint smile. “Didn’t realize you were so introspective, Wayne.”

“Tt.” He looked away, but there was no real annoyance in his expression. “Don’t get used to it.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the city lights stretching out before them like a sea of stars. For the first time in a long time, Y/N felt something she rarely allowed herself to acknowledge: hope.

And though Damian would never say it out loud, he felt the same.

More Time Together

Over the following weeks, Y/N and Damian found themselves spending more and more time together, even when they weren’t on missions or training. It wasn’t intentional, at least not at first. Damian’s disciplined schedule naturally drew her in, while Y/N’s calm and steady demeanor offered him a reprieve from the constant teasing and chaos that came with living under the same roof as the rest of the Batfamily.

Late nights often found them in the library, Y/N with her nose buried in a book or sketching out strategies in her notebook, while Damian meticulously cleaned and maintained his weapons. They didn’t talk much during these moments, but the silence between them was comfortable, unspoken words passing in the quiet.

It didn’t take long for Jason and Dick to notice the shift.

“Look at them,” Jason said one evening, watching from the shadows of the Batcave as Damian and Y/N worked side by side, silently repairing gear from their last mission. “Practically inseparable.”

Dick grinned, crossing his arms. “It’s cute. Like they’re figuring out how to be human for the first time.”

Jason snorted. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Dick’s grin widened. “Oh, absolutely.”

The First Trap

The next morning, Y/N was stretching in the training room, preparing for her session with Damian, when Jason strolled in, his expression far too innocent to be trusted.

“Morning,” he said, leaning casually against the wall.

“Morning,” Y/N replied, not looking up as she adjusted the wraps on her hands.

Jason smirked. “You and Demon Spawn have been spending a lot of time together.”

Her hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming their task. “We’re teammates. It’s inevitable.”

“Sure, sure,” Jason said, waving a hand dismissively. “Anyway, I came to tell you Bruce wanted you to check the storage closet by the sparring ring. Something about a busted hinge.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow but shrugged, walking toward the closet. She opened the door cautiously, peering inside. The second she stepped in, the door slammed shut behind her with a loud click.

“Seriously?” she muttered, trying the handle. It was locked.

On the other side, Jason’s laughter rang out, followed by another voice—Damian’s, sharp and indignant.

“Todd! What are you doing?”

Y/N sighed, leaning against the door. “Let me guess. You’re out there too, Damian.”

“Unfortunately,” came his clipped reply.

The sound of a key turning in the lock made Y/N step back just in time for Damian to be shoved into the closet with her. The door slammed shut again before either of them could react.

“This isn’t funny, Todd!” Damian shouted, pounding on the door.

Jason’s laughter only grew louder. “You two need some bonding time. Don’t worry—I’ll let you out… eventually.”

Y/N sighed, adjusting her glasses as she looked at Damian, who was glaring at the door with murderous intent. “Your family is insufferable.”

“Tell me about it,” Damian muttered, crossing his arms as he leaned against the opposite wall of the cramped closet.

The space was small, forcing them to stand uncomfortably close. Y/N did her best to ignore the proximity, but it was difficult not to notice the faint scent of Damian’s cologne or the way his sharp green eyes occasionally flicked toward her.

“Any brilliant ideas for getting us out of here?” she asked.

Damian scowled. “The hinges are reinforced. Without tools, it’s pointless to try brute force.”

“Great,” Y/N said dryly, leaning back against the shelves.

They stood in silence for a while, the muffled sound of Jason’s laughter echoing from outside.

“I’m going to kill him,” Damian said eventually, his tone flat but deadly serious.

“Get in line,” Y/N replied.

The Elevator Incident

A few days later, Dick decided it was his turn to play matchmaker.

The entire Batfamily had been called to the manor for a briefing on a city-wide surveillance mission. After the meeting, Dick approached Y/N and Damian with a grin that immediately set off alarm bells in Y/N’s head.

“Hey, can you two grab some gear from the armory? It’s down in the lower level,” he said, casually tossing Y/N a keycard.

“Why us?” Damian asked suspiciously, narrowing his eyes.

“Because you’re efficient,” Dick said, his grin widening.

Y/N sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”

The armory was located in the depths of the manor, accessible only by a private elevator. Y/N swiped the keycard, and the doors slid open. She stepped inside, followed by Damian.

The ride started normally, the faint hum of the elevator filling the silence. But halfway down, the lights flickered, and the elevator jolted to a halt.

“What now?” Damian growled, pressing the emergency button.

Nothing happened.

Y/N leaned against the wall, crossing her arms. “Let me guess—this is another one of your family’s brilliant ideas.”

Damian’s jaw clenched. “Grayson.”

The comm crackled, and Dick’s voice came through, far too cheerful for the situation.

“Hey, you two! Having fun down there?”

“Grayson, when I get out of here, I’m going to—”

“Relax,” Dick interrupted. “The elevator will start again in… let’s say twenty minutes. Consider it a forced break. You’ve both been working so hard!”

The comm went silent, leaving Y/N and Damian alone in the confined space.

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering something under her breath. Damian, meanwhile, paced the small space like a caged tiger.

“You’re going to wear a hole in the floor,” Y/N said, her tone deadpan.

Damian stopped, shooting her a glare. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Neither do I, but here we are.”

The silence stretched again, heavy with unspoken tension. Y/N adjusted her glasses, glancing at Damian, who was leaning against the wall now, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“You know,” she said eventually, “as annoying as this is, I think they’re trying to help.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “By locking us in closets and elevators?”

“They probably think we’re too stubborn to figure things out on our own.”

His expression softened slightly, though his scowl remained. “Tt. Typical Grayson logic.”

Despite herself, Y/N chuckled.

A Growing Connection

Over the next few weeks, Jason and Dick’s antics continued. From locking them in storage rooms to rigging training dummies to “accidentally” push them into each other during sparring, the traps became increasingly absurd.

But instead of driving them apart, the constant pranks had the opposite effect. Each awkward situation forced Y/N and Damian to communicate more, to rely on each other in ways they hadn’t before.

One night, after a particularly elaborate prank involving a fake mission file and a booby-trapped safe house, they ended up back on the rooftop of the manor, sitting side by side.

“They’re not going to stop, are they?” Y/N asked, adjusting her glasses as she stared out at the city.

“Not unless we give them a reason to,” Damian replied.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

He smirked faintly, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “Let them think they’ve won.”

She chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re impossible, Damian.”

“And yet, you’re still here,” he said, his tone teasing but his expression serious.

Y/N looked at him, her stoic exterior softening for just a moment. “Maybe I don’t mind.”

Damian’s smirk widened slightly, but he didn’t respond. Instead, they sat in comfortable silence, the city lights stretching out before them like endless possibilities.

A Quiet Understanding

The Batfamily’s antics continued, but their effectiveness began to wane. Damian and Y/N had grown too accustomed to the pranks to let them rattle them. Instead, they found ways to subtly turn the traps into opportunities for teamwork, much to Jason and Dick’s frustration.

“You’re ruining the fun!” Jason complained one evening after yet another failed attempt to embarrass them—a rigged door in the kitchen that had been meant to douse them both in flour but had ended up covering Jason himself instead.

Y/N leaned against the counter, her expression stoic as always, but her eyes held a faint sparkle of amusement. “Maybe you need better traps.”

“Yeah,” Damian added, smirking. “Your methods are amateur at best.”

Jason pointed a finger at him, his face smeared with flour. “You’re lucky I like you two, or—”

“Or what?” Damian interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

Jason grumbled something unintelligible before storming out of the kitchen, muttering about how “no one appreciates a good prank anymore.”

Trust and Vulnerability

One evening, after patrol, Y/N and Damian found themselves in the library again. The quiet hum of the manor was soothing after a long night, the faint crackle of the fireplace casting a warm glow over the room.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the floor, her back against the sofa as she flipped through a book on hand-to-hand combat techniques. Damian, seated on the sofa behind her, was sharpening his katana with careful precision.

“You never told me,” Damian said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

“Told you what?” Y/N asked, not looking up from her book.

“About your scars. What happened to you before you joined the Batfamily?”

Y/N stilled, her fingers lingering on the edge of the page. She didn’t look at him as she answered, her voice quiet but steady. “I didn’t have a family like yours. No one to teach me. I had to figure things out on my own.”

Damian paused his work, his green eyes fixed on her. “And that’s how you survived?”

She nodded. “Barely. But eventually, I realized I couldn’t do it alone. That’s when Bruce found me.”

There was a long pause before Damian spoke again. “You’re stronger than you realize.”

Y/N turned slightly to look at him, her expression unreadable. “You’ve said that before.”

“Because it’s true.”

Something unspoken passed between them, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words. Y/N nodded once, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips.

Jason and Dick’s Last Stand

Despite their growing bond, Jason and Dick refused to give up their matchmaking efforts. Their latest plan involved the manor’s expansive grounds and a little help from Tim, who reluctantly agreed to assist.

It started with a “routine training exercise.”

“You’ll be working in pairs,” Bruce had announced at the family breakfast table. “Tim and Jason, you’ll cover the east perimeter. Dick, you’ll handle surveillance. Damian and Y/N, you’re on the west.”

Y/N exchanged a glance with Damian, who shrugged. It wasn’t unusual for them to be paired together. What was unusual was the suspicious glint in Jason’s eyes and the not-so-subtle smirk on Dick’s face.

The first trap came in the form of a tripwire hidden along the forested trail. Y/N spotted it just in time, grabbing Damian’s arm to stop him.

“They’re getting sloppy,” she muttered, crouching down to inspect the wire.

Damian smirked. “Pathetic.”

They disarmed the trap easily, continuing their patrol with the ease of seasoned partners. But the traps kept coming—hidden nets, smoke bombs, even a series of well-placed mud puddles that nearly sent them sprawling.

By the time they reached the end of the trail, Y/N was brushing mud off her pants, and Damian was muttering curses under his breath.

“They really don’t give up, do they?” Y/N said, adjusting her glasses.

“No,” Damian replied, his voice low and frustrated. “But they will.”

The Final Push

Jason and Dick’s last attempt was their most elaborate yet. It involved a rooftop chase, a carefully timed “malfunctioning” grappling hook, and a conveniently placed set of ropes designed to entangle them mid-air.

The plan almost worked.

Damian and Y/N were in pursuit of a group of thieves when the ropes snapped into place, pulling them together and leaving them dangling several stories above the ground.

“Are you serious?” Y/N muttered, her face inches from Damian’s as they hung from the ropes.

Damian’s scowl was almost comical. “Todd and Grayson are dead men.”

Below them, Jason and Dick were laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

“You two look cozy up there!” Jason called, doubling over with laughter.

Y/N sighed, glancing at Damian. “Any ideas?”

“Of course,” he replied, already working on slicing through the ropes with a small blade from his utility belt.

Within moments, they were free, landing gracefully on a nearby ledge. Y/N adjusted her glasses, brushing herself off as Damian glared down at Jason and Dick.

“I’m going to kill them,” he muttered, his green eyes blazing.

“Get in line,” Y/N replied dryly, though the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

A Quiet Moment

Later that night, Y/N and Damian found themselves back on the rooftop of the manor, the city stretching out before them in a sea of lights.

“They’re relentless,” Y/N said, leaning against the railing.

Damian smirked faintly. “They’re idiots.”

She glanced at him, her expression softening. “But they care. In their own ridiculous way.”

He nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I suppose.”

The silence stretched between them, comfortable and familiar.

“You know,” Y/N said finally, her voice quiet, “I don’t mind spending time with you. Even when your family is driving us insane.”

Damian turned to look at her, his green eyes meeting hers. “The feeling is mutual.”

And for the first time, Y/N allowed herself to smile—not a faint curve of her lips, but a real, genuine smile. Damian’s own expression softened in response, a rare moment of vulnerability breaking through his usual stoicism.

The city lights flickered in the distance, but for once, neither of them was in a hurry to leave.

A Night at the Carnival

The announcement came at breakfast the next morning, delivered by none other than Dick, who bounded into the dining room with a wide grin.

“Family outing tonight,” he declared, plopping down at the table.

Bruce looked up from his newspaper, one eyebrow raised. “Outing?”

“Carnival’s in town,” Dick said, ignoring Damian’s groan. “It’s been ages since we all did something fun together. You know, like normal people.”

Jason snorted, taking a bite of his toast. “We’re not normal, Grayson.”

“That’s exactly why we need this!” Dick argued, undeterred. “And Bruce already agreed.”

“I did not—” Bruce began, but Dick cut him off with a pointed look.

“You agreed in spirit.”

By the time the sun set, the entire family—minus Alfred, who had politely declined—was on their way to the carnival. Y/N had been ambivalent at first, but the idea of spending time with Damian outside of missions or training was oddly appealing.

The Carnival

The carnival was a riot of bright lights, loud music, and the smell of fried food. Jason made a beeline for the food stalls, dragging Tim along with him, while Dick enthusiastically tried to convince Bruce to ride the bumper cars.

Damian, predictably, looked unimpressed by the chaos around him. Y/N, walking beside him, shared his sentiment.

“This is… loud,” she remarked, adjusting her glasses.

“Tt. Grayson’s idea of ‘fun,’” Damian muttered, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Despite their mutual disinterest, they stuck together, wandering through the crowds as they avoided the more enthusiastic members of the Batfamily.

“Want to try something?” Y/N asked after a while, gesturing toward the game stalls.

Damian raised an eyebrow. “You’re seriously suggesting we waste time on these rigged contraptions?”

“Why not?” she said with a faint smirk. “Unless you’re afraid of losing.”

That was all it took. Ten minutes later, Damian had singlehandedly decimated every game in the row, much to the dismay of the carnival workers. Y/N stood to the side, her arms crossed as she watched him effortlessly win another oversized stuffed animal.

“Impressive,” she said dryly as he handed her the prize.

“Obviously,” he replied, a rare hint of satisfaction in his voice.

The Ferris Wheel

As the night wore on, the group gradually reconvened near the center of the carnival.

“You guys should ride the Ferris wheel,” Dick suggested, his grin entirely too mischievous.

Damian glared at him. “No.”

“Oh, come on,” Jason chimed in, still chewing on a corndog. “Live a little, Demon Spawn.”

Y/N sighed, knowing resistance was futile. “Fine. Let’s go.”

Damian glanced at her, his annoyance softening slightly before he gave a curt nod. “Fine.”

The two of them climbed into one of the Ferris wheel’s small gondolas, the metal creaking faintly as it rose into the air. Below them, the carnival lights blurred into a sea of color, the noise fading into a distant hum.

Y/N leaned back against the seat, her gaze fixed on the skyline. “It’s actually… peaceful up here,” she admitted after a moment.

Damian sat stiffly beside her, his arms crossed. “I suppose.”

A comfortable silence fell between them as the Ferris wheel continued its slow ascent. The city stretched out before them, glittering under the night sky.

Without thinking, Y/N leaned her head against Damian’s shoulder, her exhaustion from the day catching up to her.

Damian stiffened at first, his body going rigid. But when Y/N didn’t move, he slowly relaxed, letting out a quiet sigh.

“You’re not as stoic as you pretend to be,” he said softly, his voice carrying no malice.

Y/N smiled faintly, her eyes half-closed. “And you’re not as cold as you pretend to be.”

He didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smirk tugged at his lips as the Ferris wheel reached its highest point.

Below them, Jason and Dick watched with barely contained glee, nudging each other like schoolchildren.

“Think they’ll finally figure it out?” Jason whispered.

“Give them time,” Dick replied, grinning.

A New Understanding

When the Ferris wheel came to a stop and Y/N and Damian stepped off, something between them had shifted. It was subtle, but noticeable in the way they walked side by side, their usual stoicism softened by an unspoken connection.

The rest of the Batfamily wisely refrained from teasing them further, though Jason couldn’t resist a sly comment as they all piled into the car to head back to the manor.

“Good view from up there?” he asked, smirking at Damian through the rearview mirror.

Damian shot him a glare but didn’t reply, and Y/N simply rolled her eyes.

That night, as they each retreated to their respective rooms, Y/N found herself smiling as she set the stuffed animal Damian had won for her on her nightstand.

And for the first time in a long time, the scars on her hands didn’t feel so heavy.

A Quiet Conversation

Y/N couldn’t sleep. The carnival had been unexpectedly enjoyable, but something about the way Damian had looked at her during the Ferris wheel ride lingered in her mind. She adjusted her glasses, staring at the stuffed animal he’d won for her.

On an impulse she couldn’t quite explain, she grabbed her hoodie and slipped out of her room, heading toward the training hall. Late-night training sessions weren’t unusual for her, and she figured the distraction would help.

When she arrived, she wasn’t surprised to find Damian already there. He was dressed in his usual black training gear, working through a series of precise sword forms. His movements were sharp and deliberate, but there was a tension in his posture that hadn’t been there earlier.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, leaning against the doorway.

Damian paused mid-swing, glancing at her. “No.”

Y/N stepped inside, crossing the room to sit on one of the benches. She didn’t interrupt him, letting him finish his routine while she wrapped her hands with the ease of habit.

When he finally set his sword aside, he sat down beside her, his breathing steady but his expression unreadable.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Y/N said, not looking at him as she adjusted her wraps.

“So have you,” Damian replied.

Y/N smirked faintly. “I’m always quiet.”

He glanced at her, his sharp green eyes studying her face. “Not with me.”

That caught her off guard. She turned to meet his gaze, finding a sincerity there that made her chest tighten.

“I trust you,” she said simply.

Damian’s eyes softened, and for a moment, the walls he kept so carefully in place seemed to lower. “And I trust you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy with unspoken words.

“Why?” Damian asked suddenly, his voice quieter than usual.

“Why what?”

“Why do you trust me? Why do you… choose to be around me?”

Y/N hesitated, considering her words carefully. “Because you’re honest. You don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. And you don’t expect me to, either.”

Damian’s gaze dropped to his hands, his fingers curling slightly. “Most people don’t see me that way. They see arrogance. Or anger.”

“They don’t know you like I do,” Y/N said softly. “You’re more than that, Damian. You’re disciplined, determined. You care about the people you protect, even if you don’t show it the way others do.”

Damian’s lips twitched into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And you?” he asked. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You’re guarded. Stoic. But you don’t hide who you are, either. You’ve been through hell, yet you don’t let it define you. I respect that.”

Y/N felt her cheeks warm at his words, but she didn’t look away. “I think we understand each other,” she said after a moment. “Better than most people ever will.”

“I agree,” Damian said, his voice quiet but firm.

Another silence fell between them, but this time it felt lighter, as though something unspoken had finally been acknowledged.

“Damian,” Y/N said hesitantly, her voice softer now. “Do you ever wonder why they push us together? Dick, Jason… the others?”

He smirked faintly, the corners of his mouth curving upward. “Because they’re idiots with too much time on their hands.”

Y/N chuckled, but her expression quickly grew serious again. “Or maybe they see something we don’t.”

Damian didn’t respond right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quieter than before. “Maybe they do.”

Y/N looked at him, her heart pounding in a way she wasn’t used to. “And what do you see?”

Damian met her gaze, his green eyes unwavering. “I see someone who doesn’t back down. Someone who challenges me. Someone who… makes me better.”

Her breath caught, the sincerity in his voice striking a chord deep within her. “You make me better too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of their words settling between them. Then, slowly, almost hesitantly, Damian reached out, his fingers brushing against hers.

Y/N didn’t pull away. Instead, she turned her hand, letting her fingers intertwine with his.

“We’re not great at this, are we?” she said with a faint smile.

“No,” Damian admitted, his own smirk softening into something more genuine. “But I don’t mind trying.”

Y/N nodded, her grip on his hand tightening slightly. “Neither do I.”

And for the first time in a long time, they both allowed themselves to simply be still, finding comfort in each other’s presence as the night stretched on.

Revenge is Sweet

It had been a few days since the carnival, and the Batfamily had settled into their usual rhythm. Jason and Dick, of course, had not given up their playful attempts to embarrass Y/N and Damian, though they had backed off slightly after their latest attempt ended in complete failure. The duo had grown a bit more cautious, but Y/N and Damian weren’t about to let them off so easily. It was time for some well-deserved payback.

In the kitchen that evening, Damian and Y/N shared a look over their bowls of cereal, both of them sensing that it was time to put their plan into motion.

“I’m getting tired of their pranks,” Y/N muttered, pushing her glasses up her nose. “It’s getting a little out of hand.”

“I agree,” Damian said, his eyes glinting with the promise of something mischievous. “But we’ve let them get away with it for too long. It’s time for payback.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “What do you have in mind?”

Damian’s lips curved into a sly grin. “You’ll see.”

The Plan

That evening, when Dick and Jason were out on patrol, Y/N and Damian went to work. They had spent the day setting up their prank, carefully choosing their moment for maximum impact.

Jason had a tendency to leave his gear lying around the house, and today, his motorcycle gloves had found their way into the living room. Damian and Y/N had set a trap using his gloves—laced with a harmless but sticky substance that would coat his hands when he touched them. It was the perfect way to get back at him for the countless times he had drenched them in flour, whipped cream, and other ridiculous substances.

Next, they turned their attention to Dick. He had an odd habit of leaving his training equipment in random places around the manor, a habit that was both annoying and oddly endearing. Y/N and Damian had placed a series of rubber snakes in Dick’s gym bag. The snakes were harmless, but they’d make quite the surprise when he reached for his gear.

“We’re going to make them think they’ve won,” Y/N said as she adjusted one of the snakes in the bag, her fingers nimble.

Damian smirked. “They’ll regret ever messing with us.”

The Set-Up

The real genius of their plan lay in the timing. They knew that Dick and Jason would return from patrol late—too late to be thinking clearly, but just in time for their “rewards.”

The two of them hid in the shadows, waiting. Y/N’s heart raced, not with nerves but with anticipation. The element of surprise was crucial, and if they pulled this off, it would be a moment of pure, sweet revenge.

The front door opened, and Jason and Dick walked in, laughing loudly, their footsteps echoing in the quiet manor.

“Did you see that idiot on the east side?” Jason’s voice rang out. “He practically fell into the dumpster trying to escape!”

Dick chuckled. “He won’t be running again anytime soon.”

Y/N and Damian exchanged a look. It was go time.

The Prank Begins

The two of them moved swiftly, each heading to their target. Damian reached for Jason’s gloves, which had been left on the table by the front door. He hesitated for a moment before dropping the sticky substance into them, making sure it coated the entire inside. Meanwhile, Y/N slipped into Dick’s room and placed the rubber snakes into his gym bag, ensuring they were well hidden among the sweatbands and spare shirts.

Once everything was set, they retreated into the shadows again, the corners of their mouths twitching upward in anticipation.

It didn’t take long for Jason and Dick to settle into the living room. Jason was the first to reach for his gloves, tossing them carelessly onto his hands. Within seconds, he froze, looking down in disbelief at the sticky substance now coating his fingers.

“What the hell?” he muttered, shaking his hands in an attempt to get the goo off.

Y/N and Damian watched from the hallway, barely able to contain their laughter.

“Ha!” Jason exclaimed. “What did you do to my gloves?!”

Damian’s voice rang out from the shadows, calm and cool. “Something fitting for a prankster, I’d say.”

Jason spun around, his eyes widening. “Damian!”

Before he could say anything else, he heard Dick’s voice from across the room, now having discovered his own surprise.

“Holy—! What the hell are these?! They’re not real, right?” Dick shouted, his voice tinged with panic as he yanked the rubber snakes from his gym bag.

Y/N stepped into the room, her lips twitching as she tried to maintain a straight face. “Oh, they’re real all right. Just not in the way you think.”

Damian stood beside her, his eyes glinting with amusement as he watched Dick and Jason scramble to figure out what had happened. “I’d say you two have learned a valuable lesson.”

Jason glared at them, his hands still covered in the sticky substance. “I can’t believe you guys.”

Dick, trying to suppress his own laughter, was holding the snakes up to examine them. “Okay, okay. You got us. But just know, we’re coming for you next.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m counting on it.”

Damian gave her a rare, knowing smirk. “The real question is… can they top us?”

Jason shot him a look, his hands still covered in goo. “You’re both dead when we get our hands on you.”

“But it was worth it,” Y/N said, her grin widening. “For the record, this is far more entertaining than any prank you two pulled.”

The Aftermath

Jason and Dick tried to retaliate the next day, but every trap they set only ended in more laughter for Y/N and Damian. They had effectively outplayed the masters of mischief at their own game. The Batfamily had never seen Damian and Y/N work so well together, and it was clear that they were an unstoppable force when it came to pranking their brothers.

The family would never let them forget this, of course, but that didn’t bother Damian and Y/N in the slightest. The sweet taste of victory—and the smug feeling of knowing that their tricks had been more than just pranks—was enough to keep them smiling long after Jason and Dick had given up.

“We make a good team,” Y/N said later that evening, as they settled in for a quiet moment on the rooftop, looking over Gotham.

“We do,” Damian agreed, his voice softer now. “But don’t expect me to go easy on you next time.”

Y/N laughed, her eyes glinting in the moonlight. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

The Calm After the Storm

The days that followed their prank war were a bit quieter. Though Jason and Dick made a few attempts at getting back at them, they were always a step behind. There was a sense of satisfaction that lingered in the air around Y/N and Damian, an unspoken understanding that, for once, they had come out on top.

It wasn’t long before the tension in the manor began to return to its usual hum. Jason was less inclined to leave his gear lying around, and Dick, although still cracking jokes, kept his gym bag closed tightly whenever he wasn’t using it. Their attempts at pranking had waned, leaving Y/N and Damian in peace for the time being.

One evening, after a long day of training, the two of them found themselves on the roof again, this time without the pressures of missions or family chaos. The city stretched out below them in a sprawling sea of lights, and the cool night air was a welcome relief after the heat of the day.

Damian sat against the edge of the roof, his legs stretched out before him, while Y/N stood beside him, her arms crossed as she surveyed the view.

“It’s quiet tonight,” she remarked.

Damian glanced over at her, his expression unreadable but his eyes softer than usual. “It is.”

“Kind of nice, don’t you think?” Y/N asked, her gaze flicking to the city below.

He didn’t answer immediately, and for a moment, it seemed as if he wasn’t going to at all. But then, his voice came, quieter than usual. “It’s better with you here.”

Y/N looked at him, taken aback for a moment. She hadn’t expected such a sentiment, especially from someone like Damian. He wasn’t one to express his feelings so openly. But the honesty in his voice made something warm stir inside her.

Without thinking, she sat down beside him, mirroring his posture as they both looked out over Gotham. “I like being with you too,” she said, her voice steady but quiet.

Damian turned his head toward her, his gaze lingering. “Why?”

Y/N let out a soft sigh, unsure of how to explain it. “You get it. I don’t have to pretend with you.”

“I don’t like pretending,” Damian replied softly. “It’s exhausting.”

She smiled faintly. “I know. Me neither.”

There was another stretch of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt easy. Natural.

“You make me feel… less alone,” Damian said quietly, almost as if he hadn’t meant to speak the words aloud.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his admission, her eyes searching his face for any sign of discomfort, but all she saw was sincerity. “I feel the same way,” she replied. “Sometimes, I forget how much I’ve been carrying around… until you’re here.”

Damian’s expression softened just a fraction, the tiniest hint of vulnerability peeking through his usual stoic demeanor. “I don’t want you to feel like that.”

Y/N chuckled softly, nudging him with her shoulder. “You can’t help me all the time, Damian. I’m good at carrying my own weight.”

“I know,” he said with a small smirk, “but I’ll always be here if you need me.”

She nodded, her gaze drifting back to the city below. For a moment, they simply sat together, the weight of their words settling into the quiet between them.

A New Understanding

Later that night, when they were back inside the manor, Y/N found herself glancing over at Damian more than once. The playful banter and teasing that had characterized their earlier interactions seemed to have faded, replaced by a deeper sense of connection.

It wasn’t just the pranks anymore, or the shared silence. There was something more—something neither of them could quite define yet, but that both of them felt with increasing clarity.

Damian, too, found himself seeking her out more often. Whether it was during training, when he would offer an unspoken challenge, or in the moments after, when they would linger in silence together, the bond between them had grown.

One evening, after a particularly grueling sparring session, Y/N noticed Damian hesitating at the door as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

“You’re not going to just stand there, are you?” she asked, her tone teasing but warm.

Damian glanced at her, his green eyes holding a quiet intensity. “I—” he stopped himself. “I wanted to thank you.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For… everything. For sticking by me. For making me feel… like I’m not alone.”

Y/N smiled softly, her expression gentler than usual. “You don’t need to thank me, Damian. I’m here because I want to be.”

He took a step closer, and there was something in his gaze that made her heart race, just slightly. “And I want you to be.”

The words hung in the air between them, but it wasn’t awkward. It was an understanding, one they hadn’t voiced until now, but one that felt as natural as breathing.

Before either of them could say more, they heard footsteps approaching. It was Jason, of course, with that infuriatingly smug look on his face.

“You two finally gonna admit it?” Jason asked, crossing his arms.

Damian scowled. “Shut up, Todd.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re always in the wrong place at the wrong time, Jason.”

Jason shrugged. “I’ve got a sixth sense for these things.”

“Well, your ‘sense’ is wrong,” Damian snapped, but there was a slight edge of amusement in his voice now.

Y/N chuckled, the weight of their unspoken words lingering in the background. She turned back to Damian, her smile softening. “You know, for all his teasing, I think Jason’s right about one thing.”

Damian raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“We are getting good at this,” she said with a smirk.

Damian’s lips curved upward into a rare smile. “It’s only just beginning.”

And with that, the night continued, the tension between them shifting from something unspoken to something a little clearer, a little stronger.

[biblical-chronicles]

Flashed

___________________________________________

where the reader pregnant with Noel's child is rescued by the brothers from paparazzi

___________________________________________

Dinner with Liam Gallagher was never meant to be a subdued occasion. Tonight, however, the plan was refreshingly straightforward: you, Noel, and Liam sharing a meal at a little pub, nothing too outlandish.

However, Noel had been unusually vigilant since the plans were made. Ever since you’d told him you were pregnant, he’d been watching you like a hawk, swooping in at the faintest sign of discomfort. As the two of you headed to the car, his concern was already in full swing.

“Yer sure you’re up for this?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “If you’re knackered, we’ll sack it off, no bother.”

You laughed softly, nudging him with your elbow. “I’m pregnant, Noel, not made of glass. Stop fussin’, will you?”

From where Liam stood leaning against the car, putting out his cigarette, his laugh barked through the air. “Him? Fussin’? Nah, couldn’t be our Noelly.”

“Shut it, Liam,” Noel muttered, though his ears turned a bit pink. He opened the passenger door for you, his movements precise, almost rehearsed. Once you were seated, he crouched slightly to adjust your seatbelt.

“Yer comfy, yeah?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, Noel. For the tenth time, I’m fine.”

“She’s fine,” Liam chimed from the backseat, swinging into the car with the casual energy only he could pull off. “But keep at it, and she might lamp ya before we get there.”

Noel gave him a sharp look but didn’t stop sneaking glances at you as he started the car. Liam’s chatter quickly filled the space, jumping from rants about the music industry (“Full of divs, the lot of ’em!”) to animated speculation about the pub’s beer. “If it’s shite, I swear I’ll kick off,” he declared. You caught Noel’s eye and shared an amused smile, his fingers brushing yours for a quick, reassuring squeeze as Liam continued his tirade.

When you arrived, the pub was every bit as inviting as Noel had promised. Warm lighting danced on wooden beams, the scent of food hung in the air, and a roaring fireplace cast a cozy glow. As the three of you slid into a corner booth, Liam wasted no time ordering a pint and a double order of chips. Noel, on the other hand, refused to stop his questions.

“Yer sure you don’t want water or juice? Maybe a tea instead?”

“Honestly, Noel, I’m fine,” you said, as much as you appreciated his care your patience was soon to be teetering on the edge of exasperation.

Across the table, Liam snorted. “She’s havin’ a meal, not a medical exam. Leave her be, nurse Noel.”

The evening unfolded smoothly—or as smoothly as it ever did with Liam at the table. He launched into an array of outlandish stories, complete with exaggerated gestures that had you doubled over in laughter. Noel, ever the counterweight, offered his quieter humor; pointed quips dropped at just the right moments, each one making you laugh harder than the last.

When the conversation lulled for a moment, you stood and announced, “Excuse me, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where you goin’ love?” Noel asked quickly, his tone alert.

“To the loo,” you said, giving him an amused look.

“Alright. But if it’s dodgy, just come back. Don’t be faffin’ about.”

“I’ll be fine, Noel.” You kissed him on the cheek, trying not to laugh at his protective streak.

“Relax, mate,” Liam said, smirking as he cradled his pint. “She’s off to the bog, not battlin’ a pack of wolves.”

Noel’s glare was as sharp as his tone. “No one asked you.”

Making your way through the pub, you reached the bathroom only to find a handwritten sign taped to the door: Out of Order—Apologies! Mildly annoyed, you flagged down a server to ask if there was another option. The young woman, clearly flustered, stammered out an apology.

“There’s a café next door letting our customers use their facilities. Just pop over—it’s no trouble.”

“It’s fine, thanks,” you said with a smile, grabbing your coat and stepping outside.

The brisk night air hit your cheeks, refreshing after the cozy warmth of the pub. You’d barely made it a few steps toward the café when a flash of light caught your eye. In an instant, a small swarm of paparazzi seemed to materialize out of nowhere. Cameras pointed at you, shutters clicking furiously as the questions began.

“Over here, love! When are you due?” “Is it true about the secret wedding?” “Excited to be a mum?" "Is Noel supportive enough?"

The cacophony of voices swirled around you, their questions cutting across each other in a dizzying blur. The flashbulbs felt blinding, and you instinctively placed your hands over your belly, your pulse quickening. The crowd surged closer, the chaos making it impossible to think.

Back in the pub, Noel sat in the booth, one leg bouncing anxiously under the table. He glanced at his watch for what felt like the hundredth time. “She’s been gone ages,” he muttered, his voice tight.

“She’s fine,” Liam replied, not even looking up as he reached for another chip. “Probably just some queue or summat.”

“Not for this long.” Noel pushed his chair back abruptly and grabbed his jacket. “I’m goin’ to check.”

Liam sighed, rolling his eyes as he stood too. “You’ll only make it worse if summat’s actually happened,” he said, shrugging on his coat.

“What d’you think I’m gonna do?” Noel shot back, glaring. “Yell at a toilet?”

“Wouldn’t put it past ya,” Liam muttered under his breath, trailing behind his brother as they headed out quickly into the night after being informed about the toilet situation.

The cool air outside did nothing to quell Noel’s growing worry, and he scanned the street quickly, his heart hammering in his chest. It wasn’t long before the source of the delay became clear. A cluster of paparazzi had formed outside the neighboring café, their cameras flashing furiously, their shouts cutting through the quiet evening like a blade.

Noel’s eyes zeroed in on you, caught in the center of the chaos. His stomach dropped at the sight of your pale face, your arms instinctively shielding your belly from the encroaching cameras. Without a second thought, he surged forward.

“Oi!” Noel’s voice cracked like a whip, sharp and commanding. “Back the fuck off, you vultures!”

Liam was right behind him, his voice booming even louder. “Yeah, piss off, ya daft cunts! Can’t you see she’s pregnant?”

The paparazzi froze for a split second, startled by the brothers' sudden appearance. A few lowered their cameras, stepping back slightly, but others continued snapping away.

Noel didn’t stop until he was at your side, his arm wrapping protectively around your shoulders. He pulled you close, his body a barrier between you and the flashing lenses. “You alright, love?” he asked, his voice soft but his tone urgent.

“I’m okay,” you said shakily, though your trembling hands betrayed you. “They just… came out of nowhere.”

His jaw tightened. “You should’ve told me where you were goin’,” he muttered, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face as he checked you over. “I’d’ve come with you.”

“I didn’t think it’d be a big deal,” you murmured, leaning into his touch.

“Well, next time, don’t take any chances,” he said firmly, already steering you back toward the pub with a protective hand on the small of your back. “Come on, let’s get inside love.”

Meanwhile, Liam lingered, his shouts still ringing in the air. “And don’t think about printin’ any of this shite, or I’ll find ya!” He raised a fist dramatically, making one paparazzo flinch knowing Liam's repuation.

Noel glanced back over his shoulder, irritation flaring. “Liam! For God’s sake, come on!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Liam grumbled, waving him off. “Go on, I’ll sort it.”

Once inside, Noel barely paused before pulling you into a tight embrace. His arms wrapped around you, his chin resting against your hair as he exhaled a shaky breath. “God, I’m glad you’re alright,” he murmured, his grip firm like he never wanted to let go.

You tilted your head up, catching his eye. “I’m fine, Noel,” you said gently, your hands moving to his chest. “Promise.”

He held your gaze for a moment, his expression a mix of worry and relief. “Scared the life out of me, y’know.”

“I know,” you whispered, your lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss. His shoulders seemed to relax as he kissed you back, the tension melting away.

The tender moment didn’t last long. Just as you pulled apart, the door to the pub banged open with a loud clatter. You both turned quickly, startled, as Liam strode in, grinning like he’d just won a prize. In his hands were the twisted remnants of a camera tripod and a lens.

“They won’t be botherin’ you again!” he declared proudly, holding up his handiwork like a trophy. “Proper smashed their gear to bits.”

For a moment, there was stunned silence. Then, in perfect unison, you and Noel groaned, “Oh, Liam.”

“What?” Liam asked, genuinely perplexed as he dropped the mangled equipment onto a nearby table. “I did you a favor!”

Noel pinched the bridge of his nose. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here I am,” Liam said, grabbing his pint with a smirk. “Yer welcome, by the way.”

You shook your head, laughing despite yourself as Noel pulled you back into the booth. His arm stayed wrapped securely around you, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your arm, while Liam dove back into his chips like nothing had happened.

“Bloody idiots,” Liam muttered, still chewing, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Can’t even have a quiet dinner without all that drama.”

Noel shot him a look but didn’t reply. His focus was entirely on you now, the concern still evident in the way his eyes flickered over you. “You sure you’re alright, love?” he asked quietly, his voice low, as though anything louder might break the calm you were finally finding.

You nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m fine, Noel. Honestly. Just a bit of a shock, that’s all.” You gave him a small smile, but it was enough to soften the tension in his shoulders.

Liam, as usual, wasn’t one for long moments of sentiment, and he cleared his throat before swiping another chip from his plate. “Right, well, since we’re all still alive and mostly intact, can we get back to the scran now?”

___________________________________________

this was such a cute request thank you fer it lovely anonymous person and hope you lot liked it x

Y’know what, I’ve just clocked that flashed (the title) sounds like someone’s gone n’ flashed their bits at ’em, but I’m keepin’ it. Me brain’s not workin’ for a better one right now, so the cheeky one stays. Also, made Noel capable of driving a car in this one, proper miracle worker behaviour from me there.

[junikicker]

The Proposal - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader (Part 1)

The Proposal Part 1 - Rebecca Welton x fem!reader

note: you want it, you get it. rebecca welton x reader au based on the movie the Proposal with Ryan Reynolds and Sandra Bullock. also, this is pre ted arriving at Richmond.

warnings: language

The sun was shining through the curtains of your Richmond flat, coaxing you awake gently. Instinctively, you turned around to shut off the alarm that usually woke you at five every morning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” You groaned as you scrambled to get out of bed, the alarm reading 6:22 a.m.

After quickly getting dressed, you came rushing out into the streets with your tie loosely around your neck and toothbrush still in your mouth. You started running down King Street and Old Palace Place, discarding your toothbrush into the closest bin as the trees around you were blurry due to your fast pace.

It had barely been two months since Rebecca Welton took over AFC Richmond after her rather nasty divorce from Rupert. You had been Mr. Mannion’s assistant for three years and Ms. Welton seemed to like you at least to the point where she felt bad about firing you, so she let you keep your job. She also felt like she owed you for telling her about her, now, ex-husband’s affairs with other employees.

You reached Nelson Road just moments before Rebecca’s arrival, fixing your appearance in the first mirror you found. “Oh, Y/n. Great to see you!” Higgins greeted you as you rushed your way up the stairs to the office you were sharing with Rebecca until accommodations were made. “G’morin’ Leslie!” You greeted back with a smile. “Someone’s in a rush.” He stated matter-of-factly. “Consider waking up twenty-three minutes ago in a rush.” You agreed easily, trying to catch your breath.

Your conversation was then interrupted by the sound of heels echoing through the halls and then up the stairs. “Well, here she comes.” You said to yourself and Higgins shot you an understanding look.

“Good morning, Boss. You have a conference call in thirty minutes.” You informed her as she gracefully strode on into her office. “Yes, about the auctioning of the art Rupert, oh so graciously, left me. I know.” She replied and sat down at her desk as you rushed over to make her a cup of tea. “Staff meeting at nine.” You added.

“Did you call, uhm… what was her name again?” She asked you absent-mindedly, opening her laptop and typing away. “Janet?” You offered, placing the cup on her desk. “Yes, Janet.”

“Yes, I called her and I told her that if she doesn’t get her hands on the matter immediately, there will not be any matters for her to get her hands on in the future. Also, your lawyer called. The one you hired for the divorce. He said that it is imperative-” You informed her but she cut you off immediately.

“Cancel the call, push back the meeting to tomorrow, and keep the lawyer on the sheets. And also get a hold of PR and have them start drafting an interview with Coach Lasso as soon as he gets here.” Rebecca ordered. She had always been quite distanced, it was just what you thought she was like.

“Nicely done.” You replied in a monotone voice. “If I shall want your praise, I will ask for it.” She replied coldly, picking the cup up and taking a big sip out of the mug. Her phone rang. By now you knew that if she was occupied, it was your task to pick up for her. “Morning. Ms. Welton’s office.” You answered. “Hello, Bob.” You replied at the sound of a voice that you were, involuntarily, very familiar with and rolled your eyes.

At you mentioning the name, Rebecca just waved her hand, but you knew her well enough to know what she meant by the gesture. “Actually we’re headed to your office right now… Yeah.” You hung up the phone before turning to your boss with a confused expression. “Why are we headed to Bob’s office?” You asked as Rebecca came to stand again. It never failed to impress you how she always seemed to have her shit together, acting rational all the time. She gave you a look. The look. The look that meant someone was going to get fired.

As the two of you left her office, you once again noticed that you had a hard time keeping up with her pace. “Have you looked over the list of international players in interest I gave you?” You asked her, continuing your walk down the halls. “Uh, I read a few pages. I wasn’t that impressed.” Rebecca replied, keeping up her pace.

“Can I just say something?” You asked her. “No.” She replied instantly as you came closer to reach Bob’s office. “I’ve been looking over hundreds of lists of players and this is the only one I ever gave to you. There are some incredible players on there.” You explained.

“Remember, you’re just a prop in here.” Rebecca reminded you. Ah yes, there it was again. As if you didn’t hear that at least twice a day from her. You opened the door for her to step in without knocking.

“Ah, our fearless leader and her liege. Please, do come in.” Bob joked, his American accent coming through as he got up from his desk chair, glasses on his nose.

“Beautiful shelve you got here, Bob. Is it new?” Rebecca asked, turning around, her face in disgust at having to interact with the man. “It is English Regency Egyptian Revival, built in the 1800s but, yes, it is the newest addition to my office. Rupert gave it to me.” Rebecca’s face seemed to scrunch up in disgust even more but she shook it off before turning back around.

“Bob, I’m firing you.” She then stated, getting straight to the point. The tall, tanned man looked at her as if she was delusional. “Pardon?” He asked. Rebecca sighed.

“I asked you more than a million times to get Chelsea to transfer us Reece James and you didn’t do it. You’re fired.” She calmly explained and you closed the door. “I have told you that this is impossible. James is not transferring for the next years.” Bob tried.

“Now that’s interesting, you see because I just got off the phone with Chelsea and he’s in. You didn’t even call them, did you?” Rebecca asked, walking up closer to the mahogany desk. “But-b.” Bob tried to find his voice again. “I know, I know. They can be a little scary to deal with… For you. Now, I am willing to give you a month to find a new job. And then you can tell everyone you resigned. Fine?” Rebecca offered. Oh, how she always knew how to play her cards.

And with that, the two of you left his office just the way you had come in. Rebecca didn’t bother to look around. “What’s he doing now?” She asked you and you turned around for her. “He’s moving, He has crazy eyes.” You observed, continuing to walk. Rebecca came to a stop and sighed.

“You poisonous bitch!” Bob yelled and suddenly all eyes of the people around you are on the three of you. “You can’t fire me! You don’t think I see what you’re doing here? Sandbagging me into this Chelsea thing just so you can look good to the board? Because you feel threatened by me! And you are a monster!” Rebecca remained calm. “Bob. Stop.”

“Just because you have no life outside of this office, you think you can treat everybody here like your own personal slaves! You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you’re gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one.” Rebecca took a deep breath in, she was acting like the words didn’t get to her before she formed a reply.

“Bob, I didn’t fire you because I feel threatened by you. And I don’t need to look good to ‘the board’ because I am ‘the board’. And I fired you because you’re lazy, entitled, incompetent and you spent more time cheating on your wife than my ex-husband did, cheating on me. And if you say another word, Y/n here is going to have you escorted out of this building, hands tied to your back, alright?” Rebecca spoke, still somewhat calm as Bob went to speak again. “Another word and you’re going out of here with an armed escort. Is that what you want? Didn’t think so. Y/n. Spit spot, we’ve got work to do.” Rebecca said, spinning on her heel and walking back toward her office.

“Have security take his breakfront out of his office and put it in the conference room. And I need you around for this weekend to review his files and other work.” Rebecca informed you, picking up her pace from before. “This weekend?” You asked her, a frown on your face. “Is there a problem, Y/n?” She asked you, stopping in her tracks. “No. I… just my grandmother’s 90th birthday so I was gonna go home and...” You started but she already went back to making her way to her office. “...it’s fine. I’ll cancel it.” You unwillingly agreed.

Once you were back in the office, you called your family to cancel your visit. You tried your best not to let it get to you but were pissed, to say the least. “I know, I know. Tell Babcia I’m sorry. Okay? Satan is not gonna let me outta here for the weekend… No- I – Listen. I’ve worked too hard for this job to throw it all away, okay?” You Explained to your mother, starting to lower your voice as you heard heels clicking over the floor. “Oh, I’m sure Tata is gonna be pissed… but we take all of our submissions around here very seriously.” You hung up the phone as the office door opened and Rebecca walked in.

“Was that your family?” She asked immediately, standing next to your desk. “Yes.” You replied. “They tell you to quit?” - “Every single day.” The phone rang again. “Ms. Welton’s office, Y/n speaking.” You answered. “Oh… Yeah. Okay. Alright.” You replied before hanging the phone up again.

“Your lawyer is here and wants to see you immediately.” You told Rebecca who groaned in response. “Okay. Come get me in ten minutes. We have a lot to do.” She ordered and left again.

As she left the room, your eyes were trained on her hips, swaying as she walked. She definitely knew how to dress. Everything she wore looked perfect on her and fitted her body in a way that never ceased to impress you. You had caught yourself checking her out on more than one occasion but never really thought anything of it.

Exactly ten minutes later, you knocked on the door to the main conference room, before letting yourself in. “Excuse me, we’re in a meeting.” Her lawyer, a tall, blonde man, in his thirties, addressed you with disgust in his voice as he saw you in your suit. “What is it?” Rebecca asked in a displeased tone, playing her part as perfectly as always.

“Marina Granovskaia from Chelsea’s office just called. She’s on the line.” You informed her. “She needs to speak with you right away, I told her you were otherwise engaged.” You rushed out, eager to get Rebecca out of whatever this was as fast as possible. Her eyes lit up at your words and she silently urged you to come in with all sorts of weird hand gestures.

“Uh… Mr. Swan, I understand. I understand the predicament that we are in. And, uhm… And there is, well… I think there is something you should know.” Rebecca stuttered, getting up from her seat at her desk, walking over to you. The way she stumbled over her words seemed suspicious to you. What was going on? “We’re...getting married.”

“We’re getting married?! What the fuck is going on?! You’re my boss!” You whisper-yelled once her lawyer left and you closed the door behind him. “What?” She asked, sitting back down at the table all calm and collected. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”

“Relax, this is for you too.” She stated as if it would explain anything that had just happened. “Do elaborate.” You joked. “They were going to sell the club.” She started. “So naturally I would have to marry you.” You deadpanned.

“And what’s the problem? Like you were saving yourself for someone special?” She asked, looking down at some paperwork, green eyes skimming over it. “I’d like to think so. Besides, isn’t that illegal?” You asked. “The point?” She shot back, looking up at you again. “We’re no terrorists.” Her eyes went back to the paper in front of her.

“Rebecca.” You tried again. “Yes.” She sighed. “Rebecca, I’m not gonna marry you.” You told her sternly, standing straight. “Because of what? You don’t ‘fancy the ladies’? Because you obviously do. The amount of times that I catch you checking me out is higher than the amount of looks any man, including my ex-husband, ever gave me.” She smirked up at you, leaning back in her chair. “I- I do, in fact, ‘fancy the ladies’…” You agreed under your breath. “Sure you are going to marry me. Because if you don’t marry me, your dreams of becoming our transfer manager will be shattered into pieces.” She stated, pleased with herself.

“They’re gonna fire you the second I’m gone. Guaranteed. That means you’re out on the street, alone, looking for a job. Which means all the time that we spent together, all the tea cups, all the canceled dates, the midnight Tampon runs, and all the shit you did under Rupert, were all for nothing, because he won’t take you back after telling on him, your dreams are gone. But don’t worry after all this is settled, we’ll get a quickie divorce and you’ll be done with me.” Rebecca explained and it started to make at least some sense to you. “But until then, like it or not, our wagons are hitched to the other’s. Alright?”

[starlightsuffered]

So close

A/N - fic based off this song. You can listen while you read if you want. It’s from Enchanted which is a great movie and this scene always makes me emotional

Info - song fic, mentions of sex, longing, angst, emotional cheating, areanged relationship

I walked slowly into the ballroom. It was the first dance I was actually allowed to be at. A duke had taken interest in me, and now I was betrothed.

Hal, no, I needed to call him Henry now, was standing at the throne with his own betrothed. Selene was gorgeous, kind, and smart. She hung on Henry’s arm like she was afraid to move. I wished I could hate her, but she was a lovely person.

Hal and I had been lovers for years. We’d met when I’d once spilled tea on him. He’d come rushing from a room after a dalliance. He’d plowed straight into me. The tea I’d been trying to deliver went flying. However, I was shocked when he didn’t scream at me.

He helped me up, he offered to buy me a new dress. He had insisted he come with me to retrieve another cup of tea so the cook would know it wasn’t my fault.

That’s how we’d started. He’d talked to me more and more. He sought me out in the castle. Soon we were hooking up whenever we got a chance.

I had learned the feel of Hal’s hands. I revealed int he way he kissed me. Every move he made and every way he touched me was a fluid, graceful movement. Though we had never been able to dance together, due to my station, that’s what our sex was. It was the most perfect waltz. We moved together perfectly.

Around the same time I had been proposed to, Henry’s advisors had produced a princess that would be a good match for him. Henry knew he and I could never be. He’d said yes.

I hadn’t seen him much since he’d told me. I’d cried and cut off our relationship. He’d begged me to come back. He promised he’d still have time for me, still care for me. He even asked if I could be his consort.

I had exploded then. I told him the truth. I was in love with him. I didn’t want half of him. I wanted to sit by his side. I wanted to care for him and hold him. I didn’t want to be the scorned mistress of the king. I didn’t want to feel fear every time I went out. I wanted all of him or nothing.

I was shaken back to reality as I felt the duke pull me harshly to the dance floor. I moved with him, but it was awkward and he was soon frustrated. I tried my best. Our connection just didn’t burn bright. He left in a huff to go to the refreshments table.

I nearly jumped when there was a tap on my shoulder. I already knew who it was. I would know that touch anywhere. I turned to see Henry. He had somehow shaken off Selene and come straight to me.

“You look like perfection,” he murmured, fingering one of the ruffles of periwinkle lace.

“Thank you, your highness,” I said with a bow. His expression soured.

“May I dance with you?”

“Once,” I allowed.

He swept me into his arms. I gasped with the realisation that we were in front of the whole kingdom. The spotlight shone on us as a soft slow song started. He gripped my waist tighter.

We were spinning around the room. His face brushed mine. I felt calm despite the many eyes on us. I was breathing peacefully, my chest against his. I was actually a good dancer, when Hal was my partner.

“You know growing up, I never thought romance would have a place in my life,” he whispered. “I am to be a king. I knew most of the women I bedded would be doing so because of that reason. You’ve given me that chance.”

“Henry,” I began in a choked voice.

“Please stop,” he said in a breath. “Don’t call me that. For one dance, let me be Hal. Let me be your Hal for just one dance.”

“Hal,” I said in a soft but emotion filled voice.

“That night on the roof we spent naked and watching the sunrise. That time I read poems to you while you played with my hair. Oh and that time you massaged me all over with sweet oils after I’d had a hard day.”

“Those memories hold as much pain now as they held sweetness,” I said, looking away. I felt him slump a bit.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Hal was quiet now. We spun to the beautiful music. He twirled me out and then towards him. He dipped me and lifted me. I felt like a fairy in flight. His hands were at home on my skin. I couldn’t help the smile that was covering my lips.

“Yes?” He asked.

I realised I’d been repeating his name over and over under my breath. I felt my eyes well with tears as I looked at his face. I cupped his cheek. He immediately turned to kiss my palm. The song was nearing its end and I was frightened. I didn’t want to leave him.

“All I ever wanted,” he murmured in my ear as the harp struck its last notes. “Was to hold you close.”

He let me go then and I nearly fell over with the shock of it. He was already on his way back to Selene. I could hardly breathe as the Duke came and took my arm. My eyes stayed on Hal.

“You danced beautifully my dove!” The duke crowed. “Come do it that way with me now. We’ll be the talk of the kingdom.”

“We were so close,” I said in a daze. Hal was smiling somehow, talking to people, milling around as if the earth hadn’t just broken in two.

“What’s that? Hold you closer? I can do that,” babbled the Duke as he led me to the dance floor. Hal, Henry, the king, brought Selene onto the dance floor at the same time. I’d been so close to a fairytale, in fact it was only a few feet away from me.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[stuffymcstuffsworld]

Don't mess with our dad

The great general Furfur was attacked. Somehow, winding up in the hospital with several cuts, a concussion, 3 broken ribs, his left kneecap broken, and a dislocated jaw. The large demon pouting about whatever had occurred.

A nurse walked in and smiled. "Look, general! Someone sent you a "get" well gift!" Showing him the large boutique of flowers that she arranged in the vase next to his bed. As well as a small card. For a demon like Furfur, who understood the meaning of several plants for research purposes that was anything but a gift.

13 types of flowers hidden away in disguised present. 13 flowers, basically screaming at him the same message. It was actually kinda cute how passive-aggressive the warning in it came.

Yellow carnations, meaning rejection. Columbine stood for foolishness, and the Geranium empathized that by adding folly and stupidity to the mix. Hydrangea showed signs of heartless or frigid affection. The lavender indicates deep signals of mistrust.

Orange Lily screams out hatred with its loud coloration. Marigold showed off grief and jealousy, but considering there were also Yellow Roses added, also implying jealousy and infidelity, he knew which way the message leaned. Then came the Peonies for bashfulness and shame.

The Poppies were a consolation of sorts as the Snapdragons spoke of deception and grace. The Zinnia were absent in affection while the Lotus tried to offer enlightenment and rebirth. Something along the lines of... 'Get lost, you jealous pig. I wouldn't even trust you in the next life.'

On the card, there was the entire misfit class, and several of them were holding a "get" well soon banner. It was rather sweet until he spotted his two trainees holding a sign over their heads. In big bold letters, it said. 'DON'T PICK ON DAD AGAIN!'.

Even that was somewhat amusing... until he remembered how he ended up here in the first place. A shudder rushed down his spine cause a brief grunt to escape as it pasted his ribs. Maybe he should wait a bit before he ever decides to visit again.

**the day before**

It was just an average weekend spent at home. All the kids were over and causing mischief. Balam currently had an energetic Clara on his shoulders whilst Iruma and Lied clung to his legs.

Kamui was sitting with Kerori and Elizabetta currently having tea. Alice and Sabro were fighting again, but they weren't destroying anything, so you chalked that up for a win. Picero was taking a nap on his cloud while Goemon, Allocer, and Jazz seemed to be playing some kind of card game.

Which left Soi, who was currently trying to sneak up on Balam with one of your freshly made flower crowns. You giggled as you watched the two of them playfully participate in a game of now you see me. Every time Balam-San would turn to acknowledge the little demon, he would disappear.

Overall, it was a lovely day. Too bad something had to ruin it. A shadow loomed over you, and you glanced up recognizing your uninvited guest. "Hiya cutie, did ya miss me?" General Furfur.

You gave him a blank stare in return. "What are you doing here?" The disinterest in you tone making the answer to his question very clear. "Aw, don't be so cold. Didn't we have fun last time?" That slick smirk stretching across his face.

"I believe I told you already. I don't waste my time with people who don't raise my interest. You had it, but you lost it just as quickly. It's not my fault if you can't maintain something." You shrug before turning back to watch your kids.

Somehow, Soi had either snuck up a tree without Balam-San noticing or the demon had let the boy think that. Either way, he hung precariously above the gargoyles head, shushing a giggling Clara as he dropped the laurel on top of their dad's head.

Shichirou, for his part, blinked and pretended to be surprised when he reached up to touch his head. "What do you even see in him?" You heard the frustration in his voice, and you stiffened.

"I mean, he's so weird, I heard he constantly carried creepy books around as a student, and he is constantly mumbling strange nonsense. So what's there to even like?" You could feel your nails digging into your flesh, your teeth clenching together like a steel trap.

"And you know even if he is strong, he's more of a pacifist, not very demon like if you ask me." Every word seemed to grate on your skin. How dare he?!? How dare he scoff at your husband/mate/whatever this relationship had escalated to.

Standing up, you were ready to send him flying through the garden wall. Only.... someone beat you to it? Well, more like two demon's cause it seemed Alice and Sabro had heard the red demon trash talking their master.

It seems all of your children had heard to actually as they proceeded to gang up on the large general before he could stand. Kicking punching scratching, you even saw iruma bitting him!! Balam cautiously approached you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

"Are you alright?" He whispers softly in your ear, brushing his woven feathers behind your ear as he does. You glance over to him. Seeing your present still firmly in place wrapped by strong vines around his neck. The pretty stone sort of winking in the light.

Reaching up, you wiped your shocked tears off of your face in surprise. Oh! You hadn't realized you were crying. "Yeah, it's just..." looking back in time to see Clara and Sabro holding a large hammer and smashing it on one of Furfurs legs.

"I'm just so proud!" The tears of shock quickly turning into one's of joy. "Look at my babies fighting to defend you! Oh, where's my camera?!" You quickly grabbed your phone and started taking pictures.

The gargoyle shifted somewhere between nervous but also proud. "Shouldn't we stop them?" You waved off his concern. "It will be fine as long as they don't kill him."

[fortisfilia]

Promised Part 2 - Tom Riddle x reader

Info: This is a rewrite of a story I've posted on my old account years ago. If it sounds familiar, that might be why :)

Summary: In this story, Tom didn't grow up as an orphan, but with his grandfather and uncle. Reader's sister got very sick and the Gaunts offer their help. But not without asking for something in return.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, sickness, bullying

Word count: 1.7k

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 3

Part 2 - Back in Hogwarts

Being back at Hogwarts felt strange. Usually, it was like coming home, where the old stone walls kept you warm even when they were so cold. But this time, having left your sick little sister behind and after practically selling your soul to the devil, you felt as if everyone already knew. Every time someone looked at you, underlying judgement was inherent in their gaze.

How could she do this? How could she agree to marry someone she didn’t love? She probably did it for the money. Or for his reputation. Both perhaps.

No one had said anything to your face yet, but the nasty expressions they wore gave them away. Girls from year five had always greeted you, had looked up to you, trying to impress older students and wanting to be noticed. Now they didn’t look you in the eyes, even though their stares bore holes into the back of your head and when they thought you were out of earshot, they would group up in the hallways and whisper to each other.

Camille Kegley was the only person you trusted enough to talk to. She was your best friend since your first year in Hogwarts and being with her had always been easy. She was a breath of fresh air - humble, fun and a loyal friend. A true Hufflepuff. So you had told her every little detail. How your sister got cursed, that the Gaunts visited, what they offered and what they asked for in return. Camille’s mouth hung open by the end, but she understood.

“I would have done the same thing for my brother,” she said. “I’m so sorry all of this happened though. If I can do anything to help you out, just let me know.”

“Thank you. Really. The only thing I want right now is for everyone to stop looking at me like I murdered someone.”

“You think they know already?”

“‘I’m not sure,” you sighed. “Seems like it.”

“Have you told anybody?”

“Just you. And please. Don’t tell anyone. I don’t want Elsie to be the girl who’s been cursed when she starts school next year and I won’t be here to help her.”

“I won’t. Don’t worry. But how would anyone know it then, by now?”

“I have a feeling the Gaunts want as many people to know as possible. To make it harder for me to back out.”

“You think Tom-”

“No,” you said and shook your head. “It seemed he was even more against it than I was. His grandfather, Marvolo. I think it’s him who’s eager for everyone to know.”

“Wanker,” Camille said.

“Tosser,” you added.

“Merlin’s saggy left bollock,” Camille went one better and you both laughed. “And what about Tom?”

“What about him?”

“Well, if they’re going through with the pact like you said, you’re going to marry him. Do you like him at least? In any way?”

“I… don’t know. I hardly know him. Though he seems to take after his grandfather, unfortunately.”

“Saggy bollock,” Camille whispered.

“I guess I’ll try to get to know him. We’ll have to get along someday after all.”

“Good idea,” Camille nodded. “You should do that.”

“He’s so distant. Cold. I don’t know how to approach him.”

“Oh, that shouldn’t be too hard. He’s just a man. They're all quite similar if we're honest.”

“I’m not sure he’s similar to most men we know, Camille,” you said and she laughed.

“You’ll have to find out, then. Maybe, deep down, he’s quite nice.”

“Maybe.”

Maybe not. Tom acted like nothing had happened for the first week of school. Either Morfin had slipped some Forgetfulness Potion into Tom’s tea, or he actually detested you that much, because it felt as if he didn’t even know who you were. He didn’t greet you in the hallway, hell, he didn’t even glance at you in class. Nothing. How was this supposed to work if he didn’t try at all? It was unfathomable.

The only person who talked normally to you, besides Camille, was Benjamin Hilt, a Gryffindor boy from year six. He was annoying, to put it mildly. Perhaps he just tried to be nice, but it seemed he wanted to know a lot about Tom and you. And, to be fair, you didn’t even know much about Tom and you.

Ben acted like Hogwarts’ very own private investigator, trying to elicit as much information as possible from you. He had you wondering if he was working for the Daily Prophet. 

How did the engagement happen? Weren’t you still too young? Did your parents agree immediately? Was it possible that you didn’t do it willingly? Was it forced? 

“Merlin, Ben!” you shouted. “Stop asking all those questions. What are you trying to get out of this?”

“I don’t know,” he said and scratched the back of his neck. “It’s just so strange, you know. I’ve never seen you two together. Seems off.”

“Well, mind your own business then. Git,” you said and rushed out of the great hall. 

Even though Tom avoided you magnificently, his friends, or rather his followers, seemed very much interested in you. And not in a positive way. They looked you up and down in class, followed you in the hallways and you could only guess what they were mumbling to each other. Certainly not compliments.

Emlyn Avery and Tiernan Lestrange were the worst of them. The two boys were on you all the time. You tried to act as if you didn’t notice, but it got more concerning each day. Every time you looked over your shoulder, those two were standing close. And they smiled so spitefully, it was clear how much they enjoyed freaking you out. Bastards.

It had become a habit not to walk the corridors alone. Camille was with you most of the time and if she couldn’t be there, you followed random groups of people until you found one of your friends. This technique, as humiliating as it was, worked well. Until that one day, when Professor Binns asked you to stay for a moment, after your History Of Magic lesson. Not only did he take ages to get his point across, but made you more nervous each second, when your classmates’ voices faded until you couldn’t hear a single sound from the hallway.

Your heart was beating in your throat when you left the classroom. Of course. Avery and Lestrange had waited for you. With their stupid grins on their faces. They didn’t even act as if they were there for something else.

You pondered where to go. The great hall was always busy and also quite near, so you turned right. They were following you. You heard their footsteps behind you and they were coming closer. 

Whenever you went a little faster, the two of them did too. You thought about running away but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. 

Eventually, they caught up. Avery walked to your left, Lestrange to your right until they had you cornered.

“What do you want?” you asked and tried your best to control your voice. 

“Just wanted to say hello,” Avery said.

“Hello,” you said and tried to push through them, but they didn’t let you.

“No,” Lestrange smirked. “We’re not done yet.”

“Did Riddle send you?” you asked. “To scare me?”

“Why would he do that? To his future wife.”

“You tell me.”

“We’re here to clear some things up,” Avery said. “That you might not know.”

“And what’s that?” you asked.

“You see, we don’t know how you did it. How your family pulled that trick to make Tom agree to marry you. It can only mean that you’re plotting something. And -”

“Wait, he didn’t tell you?” you asked.

They didn’t answer right away but exchanged an involuntary glance with each other. A sore point. Interesting.

“We know enough, okay?” Avery hissed. “Tom has a great future ahead of him. And I swear, if you get in the way, you’re going to regret it.”

“I’m not -”

“Shut up,” Lestrange interrupted you with his wand close to your face. “I don’t know what you’re after. Money, fame, whatever it is. You might want to think about it again and I’ll have you know it’s not worth it.”

“I don’t care for any of that.”

“Come on, what other reason could you have to pull off something like that?”

There was no way you were telling them about Elsie. Every student would know by next year and she was far too sensitive to handle that. “None of your business.”

“That just proves you’re not trustworthy,” Avery said.

“Because I’m not telling you two my reasons?” you almost laughed. “Give me a break. Why didn’t you ask Tom? Your good friend who confides everything to you.”

Their faces turned red, their embarrassment obvious. Even if everyone knew how much power Riddle had over his friends, they didn’t like to be reminded of it.

“Listen here, you little -” Avery stopped talking when a hand touched his shoulder and pulled him and Lestrange away from you.

Tom stood there, looking at them rigidly. “What are you doing?”

“We’re… Just…”

“Talking to her. Trying to get to know her better,” Avery mumbled.

Tom looked at you for a second, then back at his friends. “Doesn’t seem like you were having a nice chat.”

“Oh it was very nice,” Avery said. “Making friends.”

“Was it a nice chat?” Tom asked you.

You were still so tense from them threatening you and hadn’t expected Tom to talk to you directly after days of silence, so you just stammered, “I… They -”

“Shut up you,” Lestrange took a step in your direction until Tom pressed his wand against Lestrange’s chest.

“Don’t,” Tom said through gritted teeth.

“I wasn’t -”

“I don’t care Tiernan. Let’s go.”

Without another word, the three boys walked away towards the Slytherin common room. You were still glued to the spot when Tom turned around and glanced at you.

Masterpost | Masterlist | Part 3

[ketherite]

Hello! First post on hit site Tumblr!! I offer you an extremely rushed Cypher x Reader! I'm so sorry if he's a bit OOC here. Do note that I originally made this with an OC in mind! Comments will be greatly appreciated. Enjoy :)

(C/N) - Code Name

(Y/N) - Your Name

(C/N) looked at the man right across from them, a mug of tea in hand. His eyes, never peeling away from them— at least that’s what they thought. They couldn’t read much from Cypher’s face because of his pesky little mask covering every identifiable inch of him. The blue lenses only provided them small insight with how frequent his shutters— or eyelids blink. Despite that, they still feel his eyes on them, as if they have his undivided attention.

“So, Cypher, what did you call me here for?” (C/N) asks as they look down into their mug, gently swirling it around to gather the loose leaves in the middle while awaiting his answer.

“What? Is it not normal to want to have a cup of tea with a friend?” He teased as he giggled, holding up his white mug of tea to them. He then lifted his mask up ever-so-slightly to take a sip of his still-hot tea, making (C/N) turn away for the sake of courtesy.

“You gotta warn me before you do that. I don’t wanna accidentally see your face, Amir.” Their voice had a hint of annoyance in it. Cypher was a man of mystery— the man kept his entire identity; from appearance to past a secret for Christ sake! Despite that, it seemed like he had no issue with (C/N) seeing a bit of his face, but he hasn’t told them that yet, which prompts silly situations like this.

“I know, dear. But it’s alright, I know you aren’t telling anyone about what you saw.” He pulled his mask down to hide his smirk. “You and I aren’t so different. We practically think the same! Minus the hidden identity, of course.”

(C/N) sighs at his antics and rolls their eyes. “I suppose we are.”

A moment of silence falls between the two. It doesn’t feel awkward, but it feels like something’s hung up in the air. Like a question that needs an answer.

“(Y/N), there is something I need to tell you.” The once goofy air suddenly turned serious. It wasn’t everyday people called (C/N) by their real name instead of their code name. Whenever their real name is used, they know the topic is gonna be something rather important. They tilted their head to the side, as if questioning the sudden shift in tone.

Silence once again, but this time Cypher’s nervously fidgeting with his mug, looking down into its contents. A sigh escapes him as he looks back up to meet their gaze. Oh their gaze; so piercing. It was as if they were staring into the deepest depths of his soul, digging through the dark matter that lies within to see even a glimpse of his thoughts.

“I thought about it for a while. My past, Nora— everything really. It’s all been so dark, so dreary ever since it all crumbled for me. But you— when you joined, it felt like a breath of fresh air. Everyday, I look forward to seeing you. Our little hangouts have been the highlight of my days recently. Whenever you’re around, I feel like a sailor lost in the raging sea finally seeing the light from the lighthouse. A beacon of hope, if you will—” He cuts himself off with a cough, slightly tilting his hat to hide his embarrassment.

“I may be too old for this word, but I think I might have a crush on you.” He visibly cringes at the word. “Truth be told, I haven’t felt this way since I first met Nora. It’s strange to feel that flutter in my chest once again. Just thought I had to get my feelings out there. Didn’t want them brewing in me for too long.”

Cypher now refused to look at them, opting to look to the side and focus on any piece of furniture or clutter instead of them. (C/N), on the other hand, only gave him a sigh before standing up. ‘Maybe it was a bad idea…’ He thought, thinking they were just gonna leave him with no response— a rejection.

He was so lost in thought he didn’t notice that (C/N) was now standing at his side, opposite from where he was looking. One could imagine the surprise he felt when they grabbed his chin to face them, raised his mask just right above his nose, and kissed him.

They kissed him.

…

They kissed him.

It lasted only a second, but to him it felt like eternity. A kiss he so desperately wanted for so long, finally given to him. They only tasted faintly of cardamom and honey, but it tasted like sweet, sweet nectar to him; sweet, addictive, and intoxicating.

They pulled his mask back down and scoffed. “Despite being a genius, you’re a stupid man, Amir. I already knew from the get-go. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

“So, was that a yes?” He said as he looked up at them. If he wasn’t wearing the mask, (C/N) swore he’d have some puppy-eyed look on his face right now.

They crossed their arms over their chest and stuck their tongue out at him, a rare display of immaturity from them. It was cute. “I don’t know, was it?”

Cypher chuckled at their sarcasm. He then stood up and pulled up his mask halfway to give them a kiss, one they gladly returned.

“Eww, gross! can you guys get a room? I’m about to cook lunch here and you guys are literally making out.” A voice from behind the two interrupted them. It was Jett, and it seemed like she had brought Phoenix and Neon with her. Cypher immediately broke the kiss to quickly pull his mask over followed by (C/N) hiding their blushing face from the group.

Knowing the group, they’ll probably never hear the end of it. They’ll most likely spread it around the Protocol, but for the first time, it didn’t even matter to Cypher. He’s just happy they feel the same, happy that he finally has what he’s wanted for so long.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for asking my friend for some kind of financial recompense for helping her move?

My friend (25f) and I (22x) met at college about 6 months ago. We hung out after classes, occasionally saw each other on weekends, especially with a 3rd friend of ours from class, every now and then.

She is in the US on a student visa and ever since I got to know her well she has been asking for advice and support with trying to stay in the US. I did the best I could by offering guidance and asking other people for guidance for her, drove her to a job interview that was an hour away, and asking my roommates if she could stay with us for a few days during one instance of panic where she thought she would be homeless and then ended up not needing it-- generally a lot of sticking my neck out for her.

In return, she has tried to be a good friend too but honestly isn't aware of my needs and she's going through so much that she hasn't exactly been a resource for me.

This last Friday I had an incredibly exhausting day at work, but we had made tenative plans to see each other so I made it to her house around 9pm and found her in the midst of packing to go back to her home country. I hung out and helped her pack until midnight, and then I was going to leave to crash at a friend's place nearby but she asked me to sleep over there instead so I dragged my camping stuff out of the car since she had already sold her bed and furniture.

In the morning I felt awkward leaving while she clearly wasn't going to be able to pack everything without help, so I agreed to help her pack more but told her I wanted to leave around noon since I needed to get home and there were other things I wanted to do and people I wanted to see this weeekend.

I ended up helping her until around 1:30, when I expressed that I wanted to go (we had eaten breakfast earlier but now I was hungry.) She then said that she really wanted a ride to her workplace (a milk tea place) to pick up a jacket she left there and that she would make me boba. I agreed and mentioned that we could get lunch or something too.

There was an absurd amount of traffic, and after half an hour we ended up stopping at the beach because I was tired of driving and needed food and a break. Only, when I suggested we go to a sandwich place I like nearby, she started talking about how she only eats 1 meal per day and wasn't hungry, and we didn't end up going. Throughout this, I was getting crankier and suggested a few times that her sister (who was driving to meet her to help her move) meet us to pick her up so I could leave. She refused to even ask, saying her sister wasn't the type to like to change plans. We ended up getting back to her house around 5:30.

Her sister (~35f) showed up in a Tesla with her husband and was polite but a little cold to me, and I said goodbye and went to use the bathroom before leaving. When I came out they asked me if I would be willing to drive some boxes an hour away (not in the direction of my house) for them since they couldn't fit everything in the car.

I said no for obvious reasons, and then they asked me if I could take the boxes to a goodwill dropoff center nearby. I didn't understand why they hadn't thought ahead and just taken 2 trips with the extra boxes, but at this point their car was already packed and my day was already basically gone so I said fine, drove her there, with the sister following, and left after unloading the stuff.

In the car I explained that I was a little upset because I had wanted to leave much earlier and I hadn't eaten. My friend apologized but then I ended up reassuring her a little and she didn't offer to make it up in any way-- I'm not sure what I expected.

I am used to, when helping people move, being given food or something to compensate me for free labor, even if it is for a friend. I'm not used to giving up 5 extra hours from my day for nothing but an apology. I don't think she did it on purpose, and honestly am more pissed at her sister for expecting me to continue to help instead of figuring it out herself, since they're family and my friend was clearly in over her head, but I'm not sure what to do.

WIBTA for asking for money to compensate me for my time and effort? If not,how much is reasonable? This all happened yesterday and I'm just going to forget about it but honestly I'm not really inspired to keep in touch after this unless she makes it up to me somehow. AITA for even thinking this? I don't think I'm the AH in this situation but idk if it's salvageable.

What are these acronyms?

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 1 - Blue Effervescent Liquid Bottle

It was just another moody winter morning, and here she was, sitting in one comfortable chair at her favourite vintage cafe, enjoying a light breakfast (A large cup of caramel latte) and playing a video game on her most trusted PSP. Across from her stood her best friend and room-mate, Lea, a tall, gorgeous young lady of a paler complexion, striking blue eyes like the deep ocean, and recently dyed pink hair like candy floss. The two had been friends for over a decade, since well before college days - Who would think an online friendship could flourish so well, that they would even move in together to cut costs on renting a flat in London? It has become a routine for the two friends to go to the same cafe for breakfast - Breakfast that consists of tea or coffee and cake. Each day, every day. At least that is one thing they eat through the day, considering how completely absorbed they get with they work, and end up tuning out the whole world around them.  Enjoying the silence of the morning, the gamer got startled by her phone ringtone disturbing her ephemeral state of peace. Looking at the caller, she was surprised to see it was Lestrade, a police detective.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

"Sorry, I have to answer this..." Lea simply nodded her head, offering an absent smile; She was far too preoccupied by her book in Neuroscience to pay attention to her friend. "Good morning, Greg. How are you in this fine morning? Enjoying a coffee, I presume?" the lady with the long blue hair, cascading down her back like the mesmerising Iguazu Waterfall from Argentina, greeted her detective friend in a soft yet lovely tone, not even once shifting her gaze from her game. "I hardly have time for rest, lately." Lestrade grumbled, before quickly resuming his line. "I know you don't like being called on cases on the spot, but we would greatly benefit from your expertise." he continued, clearing his throat subtly. "Anderson can be... Well, you know best." "The suicide cases? Is that what you need me for? Has another one just surfaced?" the woman's interest was suddenly piqued, but not enough to make a wrong move in her game. "Yes, those." the detective confirmed curtly. "You know those aren't actually suicides, right? Just some tricky, witty way of making them appear as suicides, despite being murders?" she spoke back nonchalantly. "I've heard that one before." the detective seemed entirely bummed by the girl's confirmation regarding this information received. "Oh really? Then why'd you need me? Surely, whoever enlightened you about the crimes is smart enough to help you with the mystery and figure out the culprit, right?" she asked again, just a little surprised. "I fear there might be another suicide soon, and I need all the help I can get." Lestrade was almost begging for her aid - In fact, it seemed to her, that she would take any help, EXCEPT whoever gave him the hint before. Fascinating. The bluenette smirked like a joyful vixen spotting her defenseless prey. "You really know how to charm a lady, don't you~?" she chuckled softly. "I will join you and offer my help as much as I can, okay? I'm pretty sure I'll be able to arrive at the scene of the crime, just in time for a surprise autopsy~." "Glad I can at least rely on you." the detective sighed with a little relief. "Aren't I such a reliable person~?" the mischievous lady teased her sort-of friend. "Yes, you are. Now, excuse me, I have some paperwork to do. Greet your friend for me too. I'll send you the coordinations." he hung up soon after.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

By the wicked smirk on her friend's face, the pinkette placed her book down. "Another fancy murder case, I presume?" "Precisely. Oh, I can just feel the excitement going through my body as I examine it... Finding out all the secrets that it is hiding..." she replied, almost enthusiastically. Lea simply offered a half-smile. "Just like you to get so worked up over something like that. Then again, your pretty genius brain of yours has been screaming for some excitement for a while. Not many things have been happening lately. Bet you're in need for some money - Heard some games are going to be released soon." "You know me as well as I expected, cara mia. If only you'd know what a cash-grab most games are these days - A hundred pounds, and people expect me to pay for that? Ha! Learning how to pirate has been my best decision ever - Pulled me right out of poverty, really. Oh, the money I saved, not spending for any kind of electronic entertainment!" the mysterious girl with the aquamarine eyes stood up, putting her black trench over her shoulders and going in her car, driving away to the specified location of the fourth murder.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Just as expected, the fourth suicide-murder happened that exact same night - Unfortunately, the welcoming party was as unkind as always. Donovan and Anderson were as talkative as always, yet with exactly zero benefit to the crime scene - Or the state of the world, for what matters. Clearly, they have to compensate the lack of grey matter, with an extensively vicious tongue spilling poison. Perhaps they weren't aware, but the Lion does not listen to the opinion of sheep.

"Anderson, watch out, Freak #1 is on the scene." the woman came to greet her as nicely as ever.

"Skip the pleasantries, I don't have time to waste on you." the forensics doctor rolled her eyes, waving a dismissive hand. "Do you know where Greg is?"

"Why?" Donovan's question sounded just like one of those toddlers asking 'why?' to literally every little thing their parents tell them.

"Well, you see - If you were capable of using your brain for more than the basic mammal functions, maybe you'd know that I was, in fact, personally invited to take a look at the body." she was exasperated with this stalling, and quite rightfully so. "Why?" what a coincidence - Donovan the Toddler did it again.

"You know, to do just any good forensics doctor does." the blue haired lady gesticulated in a rather theatrical manner. "INVESTIGATE?!" "Well, you know what I think, don’t you?" Donovan put her hands on her hips, smirking down at her bullied victim.

"You never fail to tell me exactly what you think, every time we meet, Donovan. I would think, by now, I would be quite aware of your blatant dislike for me. I know, it is not easy knowing that your mental capacity can never come high up enough to match mine... Or your salary." the young woman found herself almost unable to stifle her mocking chuckle. Groaning in annoyance, Donovan spoke into the radio. "Freak's here, bring her in."

Her sidekick, Anderson, followed suit, bringing her towards the building. "It’s a crime scene. I don’t want it contaminated. Are we clear on that?"

"No need to warn me, Anderson. You see, unlike you, I actually am a proper doctor." the bluenette smirked at him with a patronising allure. "You might want to look in the mirror someday - Do some affirmations, tell yourself how great of a doctor you are..." she cleared her throat dramatically. 

"Here we go again..." the both of them looked at each other with disdain.

"Now, now, no need to work so well in tandem, you'll become more suspicious than you already are!" the vixen taunted them with ease.

"What the hell could you possibly mean by that?" Anderson asked, his eyes narrowed with hostility.

"If you were a proper doctor, you'd have tended to Donovan's knees after last night, you know? Poor woman must have kneeled for you for so long..." their eyes widened with shock - Busted. "Praying, of course, whatever could you think I meant? Get your minds out of the gutter - I would, however, recommend some aloe vera or marigold cream. Does wonders for that... And a new pair of pants, to hide the friction from your knees." seeing their horrified expression, the victorious lady threw a peace sign and skipped up the building stairs. "Say hi to your wife from me, Anderson!" As the forensics expert stepped into the shabby, dusty room of the abandoned, run-me-down building, she saw the body of a woman dressed in pink; This ought to be an interesting case, she thought, as she put her latex gloves on and approached the cadaver. "Her name’s Jennifer Wilson according to her credit cards. We’re running them now for contact details. Hasn’t been here long. Some kids found her." what a nasty way to have your body discovered, she thought to herself, crouching by the lady. The woman’s body was lying face down on the bare floorboards in the middle of the room, wearing a bright pink overcoat and high-heeled pink shoes. Her hands were flat on the floor either side of her head. 

Scratched into the wooden floor, above her left hand, was the word "RACHE".  Her extensive knowledge of German popped into her head - That's the word for revenge - But surely, she wouldn't, with her last breath, painfully destroy her nails to scratch that into the wooden boards, right? Surely - It had to something more sentimental on her part.

A name, perhaps? Rache, from Rachel? Most likely. "Can you please try and figure out what ever could the name Rachel mean to her?"

"Rachel?" Greg blinked, completely dumbfounded.

"Yes - She scratched this into the wood - I think she died before she could finish writing this name." she explained softly. "I think she was trying to give us a clue into who the culprit was; Or at least a lead into how to find whoever did this to her." she continued. "I see, well thought." the detective nodded his head, only to be distracted briefly. "The others arrived." "O-Others...?" the lady suddenly froze and became paler than a paper. "Y-You never mentioned other people coming, Greg! Be reasonable, at least let them in AFTER I leave!" she pleaded in a whispery voice. "You know I don't do well with people!" "I'm sorry, we have limited time, so I can't afford that." he cut her off immediately. "V-Very well... I can cope with that..." she chuckled nervously, trying to return to her work. "Just do what you usually do - They won't disturb you... Much." this rhetoric did nothing but earn a snide comment from the doctress. "Hardly a reassurance." she muttered under her breath.

Taking a deep breath, the mystery lady calmed her nerves, and scanned the dead body laying before her; From a quick glance, anyone could easily deduce the victim was somewhere in her thirties, working in an office or something professional, based on her business/office outfit.  The death was definitely asphyxiation, and she choked on her own vomit - Poison? Drugs? Liquid, or pills? Probably doesn't matter. The back of her coat, and underneath the collar were wet, however the umbrella was perfectly dry - How very interesting - She'd have to check on the weather reports real quick. Her jewellery, she thought was all authentic gold and not fakes, were all pristine clean, except for her wedding band - Clean on the inside, dirty on the outside; Seems like someone's been unhappily married for almost half her entire life, and she's been drowning her sorrows in a string of men who were capable of giving her what her husband never could. Funny how many things a little ring could tell - All because it was removed so many times that it leaves traces!

There was, however, one thing amiss in this equation; One thing that left her in deep unrest, enough to get up and start idly pacing around and searching like a lost meerkat - Such a reputable lady MUST have had some kind of luggage, considering the state of her Achilles' tendon, all muddied up and dirty; That damn luggage ruined her pristine appearance! A luggage, matching her pristine self.

A pink luggage to match this pink lady's pink outfit of the day.

It was not the new pairs of footsteps, belonging to two men she never met, that got her out of her trance, but in fact a velvety baritone voice, so gorgeous and melodic, that it was lost on a mere greeting to detective Lestrade. The blue haired lady turned her head, and scanned the new-comer; A very tall young man, seemingly in her own age range, with flawless porcelain skin, the most beautiful celestial blue eyes she's ever seen, and the cutest flock of dark, curly hair, all messy as expected. He carried himself with long strides, yet very elegantly, just like a true English gentleman. No doubt, he was the brains behind the previous tip Lestrade got, about the suicides being murder. They say the eyes are the mirrors into one's soul - But their twinkle show just enough spark of pure genius and brilliance to spot from a mile away - And if not that, at least, definitely his quirkiness.

The fellow man by his side definitely looked like a sidekick; shorter, older, grey hair, and hardened by hardships. A war veteran with a leg wound, it seemed. Still, it was clear to her that even this seemingly innocent cute man had an endless stream of curiosity, if he agreed to come to this place just to see a dead body. "Who's this?" Lestrade asked, nodding to the shorter man. "He's with me. His name is John." the young one spoke briefly again, before turning to the lady. "And who is this?"

"Right, you haven't met before." the detective nodded to himself. "Sherlock, this is Raven, our forensics doctor." he gestured towards the bluenette.

"Lovely meeting you." the mystery lady offered a polite smile. "Worry not - I am no Anderson. I know the torture of working with someone of his... Caliber." she extended her hand to shake.

"Sherlock Holmes." the newcomer narrowed his beautiful eyes for a split second while analysing her from head to toe, before deciding for a most peculiar and completely out of character gesture - He picked her hand and kissed it. "Pleasure is all mine."

"What have you found?" Sherlock averted his gaze from the pink cadaver, back to the blue haired beauty, noticing her subtle mischief.

"About?" asking that, he was clearly testing her.

"I know you were analysing me. Just wondering what you picked up from a first glance."

Sherlock couldn't help feeling the corner of his mouth twitch up into an amused half-smile; Few people picked up on such a remark. At once, words started appearing in his mind palace, creating an almost perfect description of the lady before him. The most striking feature was definitely her hair - Long enough to go past her waist, but still kept impeccable and done daily; as for the colour, he was undecided whether it was a trend, because it suited her well and brought out her striking eyes, or simply because she was bored out of her mind.

Regardless, he moved to the next aspect, her make up - Done soft and in style, pearl pink and subtle glitter around the eyes, a small wing to highlight that impressive aquamarine colour of her iris, just the perfect blend of blue and green, and a shiny pink lipgloss to hydrate her chapped, dry lips; It seemed to him that she had quite the habit of biting her lips - Nervousness? Anxiety? A tick for when she gets too deep into her thoughts? Or, perhaps, all at once.

Her outfit, also, was impeccable; A dark blue dress, embroidered with golden constellations, reaching just about mid-shin, was hugging her body in all the right places. Her shoes, black, with a small yet elegant wide heel, matched her black trench coat made out of the finest yorkshire wool, and her black leather purse. Her jewellery, also fine and genuine, adorned her slender fingers, delicate wrist, supple neck and small ears. Impeccable, with a single flaw - The blackness of the trench coat couldn't hide the single strand of black dog hair. Small breed, no doubt, on the older side also based on the grey tint.

Her fingers were slender and long, yes; She definitely played at least one kind of instrument - Piano had to be one of them, though he'd have to bet on a strings instrument also. Perhaps something more eccentric than a guitar? Something eastern, maybe; based on the almost invisible lines across her fingertips, she must have played it as late as the previous night. Her middle finger also had a slight callous, no doubt from her long studies as a doctor; Though a slight deformity on her pinky finger, just in the middle, made him wonder - It was definitely from repeatedly holding some device, but what exactly? Was it technology? Was she tech-savy? Had to be. A phone, perhaps?

"You play the piano on a high level, and at least one more string instrument, something from Asia no doubt - Is it a koto? Erhu?" Sherlock began, then looked at her manicure - Long nails, done at the salon frequently, and well taken care of; Pearl pink polish, so it would match any wardrobe. "Your nails are too long for most string instruments. Maybe a zither?"

"Guzheng, yes. That's why I keep my nails long. It helps with the plucking." Sherlock nodded his head, pleased with his deduction.

"You have a small breed dog at home - Apartment, rather large also - On the older side... Ten years old? A little more?" he continued. "Based on how straight it is, I'd say a Bichon... Maltese, maybe? It's not slick enough though. Maybe... Lowchen?"

"Close. She's turning twelve on November 6th. She's a Havanese. Her name is Fifi." the handsome young man tsk'ed in annoyance.

"There's always something..." he was always so annoyed when he missed things so elementary. "You're proficient in computers - Technology. There must be some kind of gadget you keep holding weirdly through the day that it made an indent in the inside of your right pinky finger. It can't be a phone, but I think that added to it."

"PSP gaming console." the lady brought her hand up to her mouth, looking away as she giggled softly. "Haven't quite expected me to be a hardcore gamer, did you?" she asked, quite amused at his shock. "My eyes are tired because I game too much, in a dark room. I admit my fault. I sleep far too little for what's worth." "I should have paid more attention in the gaming store." he nodded to himself, happy that he had more fields to research in. 

"I think it was quite brilliant. Most of these seemingly obvious details always pass unnoticed the easiest. You have fantastic keen eyes, and a splendid mind, Detective Sherlock." she praised him, clearly genuine. "Now then - I am sure you want to ask me something else, don't you?"

"Quite so!" he exclaimed, evidently thrilled to have more pleasant company around him that wouldn't annoy him to the degree of Donovan and Anderson... Or everyone else, for the matter. "I am curious as to what you have found out about the body - And more importantly, what you've been searching for around this room."

"Wait, hold up - Are you going to tell me how in the world did you figure all that out?!" poor John, with a flabbergast look on his face, was terribly curious.

"Quite simple, really. You just don't know where to look." Sherlock waved dismissively. "The instrument thing - Her fingers are long and slender, it indicates someone who played an instrument very often in their childhood, thus, the piano; However, look here, on the tips, there's faint horizontal lines, indicating a string instrument - But long nails would interfere with most string instruments, thus, it had to be one thing - The zither." the detective began explaining his deduction process. "There was a single strand of hair blending with the colour of the coat - Initially black, but with enough grey hues; based on the texture and the straightness of it, it could only be a small breed dog, old enough to have gotten grey fur. Since most small breeds have a longer lifespan, their elderly years go farther, thus it had to be somewhere older than ten years of age. The Maltese, Havanese and Lowchen are the only breeds with such straight fur - Although, I admit, it had crossed my mind that the Havanese had such soft hair. You must tend to her daily."

"Quite so. She loved a good evening pampering." Raven nodded her head with a giddy smile; She clearly loved her pet very much, and enjoyed talking about her.

"And what about the tech-thing? You couldn't possible guess that from a simple indenture in her pinky!" John cried in surprise, although still stupefied at all the sound deduction - And how elementary it was!

Instead of a verbal answer, Raven dug into her purse and pulled out a nice PSP, and demonstrated how she held it in her right hand - Leaning lazily on the curvature of her inner pinky. "Adding that to how I hold my phone, every day for years now, you get this little funky thing." she showed off her pinky mark.

"... Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!" the sidekick gasped.

"Think so?" Sherlock seemed almost taken aback by the compliments, yet clearly he loved them.

"Definitely." John nodded his head.

"Returning to our victim here - I can't say I've found any major discovery, unfortunately - Or at least, nothing that would aid us in finding the culprit. I truly don't think knowing she's a serial cheater and unhappily married for over a decade would help us with this mystery." she chuckled softly. "I think, however, we should check the weather forecast -- And look around for a pink luggage."

At once, Sherlock went to crouch by her side, fiddled with her wedding band, touched her coat and her umbrella, looked around and nodded - Then got up and walked in front of the bluenette, as if to discuss their shared findings. "I checked the forecast, and-"

However, his genius was outshadowed by Anderson's outright monumental stupidity that knew absolutely no bounds. "She’s German." he declared boldly. "‘Rache’- it’s German for ‘revenge’. She could be trying to tell us something..." thankfully, he was cut off by a most witty remark, before Holmes could close the door in his face. "Yes, Anderson, you are completely right! You see - I have discovered that she is telling us... That you're a complete moron." she stated bluntly. "She's not some ghost to haunt you from the afterlife and get revenge. Honestly - Being in your presence encouraged my neurons to commit seppuku. Fortunately, for my own mental health, if I wanted to kill myself, I would just have to climb up your ego and jump down to your IQ - It must be lower than you shoe size."

From one corner, Greg and John were fighting hard to hide their amusement, especially seeing Anderson's dumb face, and his mouth opening and closing like a pufferfish; Sherlock, however, glanced her way, and with a smirk, he used one had to slam the door in Anderson's face, and the other to show Raven the phone with the weather forecast she requested. She was witty, this one, and she knew just where to look. He quite liked her.

"So where is she from?" Lestrade asked the two people he invited over for their professional opinion on the situation. "She’s from out of town. Intended to stay in London for one night, before returning home to Cardiff. So far, so obvious." Sherlock began his trail of thoughts, spoken out loud. Raven nodded along - To think it was Cardiff, of all places, how marvelous! "Sorry – Obvious?" John blinked, as if he missed the most obvious magic trick unveiling before his very eyes. "What about the message, though?" the detective asked, eying the scratched floorboards. "Doctor Watson, what do you think?" so he was a doctor - An Army Doctor, how fascinating! Maybe this sidekick was far more interesting than she'd first anticipated! "Of the message?" John asked, a little surprised to be asked to contribute to the case on the spot. "Of the body. You’re a medical man." Sherlock urged him. "Miss Raven has already done her medical investigation - Surely it would be productive if you two were to compare notes." "Wait, no, we have a whole team right outside." Lestrade protested immediately.

"Yeah - And useless Anderson is one of them." the blue haired lady huffed. "I’m breaking every rule letting you in here." the detective kept pressing on. "Yes ... Because you need me." Sherlock knew just what fortes he has. "Yes, I do... God help me." poor man was defeated. "Well, do what he says, help yourself." he invited the doctor to look at the body, whilst instructing Anderson to keep everyone outside in the meantime. "What am I doing here?" the army doctor found himself asking with bewilderment. "Helping me make a point." Sherlock replied clearly. "I’m supposed to be helping you pay the rent." John answered right back, still unsure of his position at the crime scene. "Yeah, well, this is more fun." the genius detective titled his head playfully. "Fun? There’s a woman lying dead." the stupefied doctor threw his hands towards the dead lady lying on the ground. "Perfectly sound analysis, but I was hoping you’d go deeper." the detective snarked his new flatmate. "Yeah ... " finally, the army doctor crouched to the ground next to the dead body and began his own quick examination. "Asphyxiation, probably. Passed out, choked on her own vomit. Can’t smell any alcohol on her. It could have been a seizure; possibly drugs." he explained, after taking a little sniff of the inside of her mouth. "You know what it was. You’ve read the papers." the blue-eyes man retorted. "What, she’s one of the suicides? The fourth ...?" he sounded incredulous, poor man.

"The idea of 'suicide' here is a little misinterpreted." "Sherlock, two minutes, I said." Greg came back inside the room. "I need anything you’ve got." he sounded almost desperate, bless his heart. "Victim is in her late thirties. Professional person, going by her clothes; I’m guessing something in the media, going by the frankly alarming shade of pink. Traveled from Cardiff today, intending to stay in London for one night. It’s obvious from the size of her suitcase." the detective genius spoke up in a most natural tone.

"In the media... I thought she was an office worker, or a business woman." Raven thought out loud. "Is it because she dresses so flashy? News Anchors usually do dress elegantly, with a dash of eccentrism."

"Yes, quite so." Holmes nodded his head to affirm her train of thought. "Suitcase?" the police detective frowned, confused about this supposed suitcase. "Suitcase, yes. She’s been married at least ten years, but not happily. She’s had a string of lovers but none of them knew she was married." so he thought about the suitcase in relation to the adulterer life she lived, how fascinating that two people can come to the same conclusion, but for different reasons! Raven simply thought she had a pink luggage because she had been traveling from out of town, and because of the weather, she'd gotten the back of her ankles quite messy! "Oh, for God’s sake, if you’re just making this up ..." Lestrade groaned, unable to believe the younger one could come up with such a detailed reasoning. "Miss Raven told you the same, hasn't she? Both of us couldn't possibly come up with the same story." the bluenette was quite surprised at being called 'miss' so politely. Sherlock Holmes hadn't struck her as the conventional type of old-school British gentleman, who would call ladies with such honorifics. How charming and gallant of him. "Her wedding ring. Ten years old at least. The rest of her jewelry has been regularly cleaned, but not her wedding ring. State of her marriage right there. The inside of the ring is shinier than the outside – that means it’s regularly removed. The only polishing it gets is when she works it off her finger. It’s not for work; look at her nails. She doesn’t work with her hands, so what or rather who does she remove her rings for? Clearly not one lover; she’d never sustain the fiction of being single over that amount of time, so more likely a string of them. Simple." the young man explained, as if it was the simplest equation known to mankind. Was he not aware of how outstandingly unique his deduction skills are? Was he seeking some more applause and validation? Or just... He's tired of how simple everyone surrounding him is, in comparison to himself, and that he has not found an equal? Is he in search of the Joker counterpart, to his Batman? Someone to keep him on his toes and challenge him for once? "That’s brilliant." John remarked, outstanded by what he just heart. "Cardiff?" Greg asked. "It’s obvious, isn’t it?" Sherlock asked, quite genuinely surprised that they were even asking. "It’s not obvious to me." John replied immediately, almost offended at the implication that he's dumb. "Dear God, what is it like in your funny little brains? It must be so boring." Sherlock rolled his eyes, making the single lady present giggle softly in amusement. "Her coat - it’s slightly damp. She’s been in heavy rain in the last few hours. No rain anywhere in London in that time. Under her coat collar is damp, too. She’s turned it up against the wind. She’s got an umbrella in her left-hand pocket but it’s dry and unused: not just wind, strong wind – too strong to use her umbrella. We know from her suitcase that she was intending to stay overnight, so she must have come a decent distance but she can’t have traveled more than two or three hours because her coat still hasn’t dried. So, where has there been heavy rain and strong wind within the radius of that travel time? Cardiff." the young detective explained the obvious, making John look like a surprised pufferfish. "That’s fantastic!" the medic exclaimed out loud. "D’you know you do that out loud?" Holmes asked his flatman, who got quite bashful. "Sorry. I’ll shut up." he looked away, hiding his embarrassment. "No, it’s ... Fine." Sherlock cleared his throat; How adorable he was - He just wanted a little praise, that's all! Granted, with people like Donovan around, there was no doubt Sherlock must get littler praise than even she does, Raven thought to herself. Were she to throw a few genuine remarks his way, would he feel his heartstrings tugged? Would his ego get stroked? Quite fascinating indeed. "Miss Raven, when I entered the room, you were searching for something - What was it?"

"I was trying to figure out if her phone was hidden around, or taken by the culprit. Given who she is, there's no way she wouldn't keep her cellphone and/or some kind of... Organiser in her possession at all times." she explained, adjusting the trench over her shoulders. "I haven't found either - And, what's more, there hasn't been sight of any suitcases or luggage whatsoever." Sherlock looked at her and blinked in surprise at what he's heard - No suitcase? No phone? Nothing?! "In this whole house, there is nothing pink, nor that would belong to Lady Jennifer. My only supposition is that the culprit took either, or both, with them. To hide evidence, or... Who knows." a few more seconds of silence passed before them. "Hold up - Reckon the phone might still be, at this moment, in the culprit's possession? If the phone is turned on, I think we could locate it based on where the signal pings."

"Brilliant!" Sherlock exclaimed theatrically, shocking everyone around. "Lestrade, find out who Rachel is." "Hold up, you two, stop getting ahead - What's all this talk about a suitcase? How could you possibly know she had one with her, when this happened?" Lestrade's eyes were wide, and darting between the odd pair who seemed to hit it off quite perfectly. "Honestly..." Holmes reverted back to his impatient tone. "Back of the right leg - tiny splash marks on the heel and calf, not present on the left. She was dragging a wheeled suitcase behind her with her right hand. Don’t get that splash pattern any other way. Smallish case, going by the spread. Case that size, woman this clothes-conscious: could only be an overnight bag, so we know she was staying one night. Now, where is it? What have you done with it? - No, rather - Did you find any?" "There wasn’t a case." Sherlock pressed him again with the same question, earning the same vehement response. "There wasn’t a case. There was never any suitcase." Immediately Sherlock straightened up and headed for the door in a rather erratic manner, calling out to all the police officers in the house as he began hurrying down the stairs, followed by the curious lady with blue hair. He looked hilarious, even childish, yelling around for a suitcase, while everyone was telling him there wasn't any! "Sherlock, there was no case!" Lestrade shouted back, clearly exasperated.

"The killings - They're serial killings, not coincidental suicides - All of them, they take the poison themselves, they chew, they swallow the pills themselves - The signs are clear, even you lot couldn't miss them!" he exclaimed, looking around like a headless chicken. "The case - Yes, you were right - If there's no case, then the killer took it!" he exclaimed his eureka moment. "But how did he take it - Maybe... Maybe the killer drove her here, forgot the case was in the car...!"

"A pink luggage would stand out too much. She stood out too much. There's no way he carried it anywhere out of the car, if that's the case - Unless he disposed of it after the deed was done." Raven pointed it out, though she wasn't sure she was even heard - It seemed that, whenever Sherlock was thinking, his awareness of the outside world diminished almost completely.

"She could have checked into a hotel, left her case there." John suggested, confused on why Sherlock came up with the car theory. "I don't think any respectable woman, such as herself, would leave the hotel room looking like a mess." the lady huffed with a half-smile on her face. "That woman coordinated her make up, outfit and accessories - She hadn't reached her hotel room, otherwise she'd have fixed herself up properly."

"Yes, yes, as she said ---" Sherlock gasped loudly, clapping his hands together, grinning at his own brilliance. "Oh... Oh!" he seemed so giddy and boyish, how cute he was. "Serial killers, always hard - You have to wait for them to make a mistake." he smirked to himself, triumphant. 

"We can’t just wait!" Greg yelled out from the top of the stairs, watching the detective waltz around aimlessly around the ground floor. "Oh, we’re done waiting! Look at her, really look! Houston, we have a mistake!" he cheered, before turning around to see the blue haired lady standing 3 steps above him, looking down at him with quite the amused smiled.

"I am glad you've found your eureka moment." her smile reminded Sherlock of a fox. Quite mischievous indeed, this one.

"Thank God there's still hope in this world!" he skipped up on the steps to get on even level with the lady, before placing both of his large hands on either side of her face, and planting a kiss on her forehead. "Get a cab and come to this address - There's no way I'd take you dumpster-diving around the city." how thoughtful, Mr. Holmes!

"... Hm? Wait, Sherlock, how do you...--" but she was cut off by Sherlock jumping off the stairs and yelling up towards Lestrade.

"Lestrade, get on to Cardiff - Find out who Jennifer Wilson’s family and friends were. Find Rachel!" he cried out, lunging towards the exit, only to be brought back by the detective asking him - What the hell was the killer's mistake? "PINK!" Sherlock exclaimed loudly, before hurrying out... To search for the pink luggage in... Rather disgusting places. Just as instructed, Raven caught a cab and went to the given address, and whilst waiting for Holmes to arrive, she stood idly and played her game on the portable console. It must have been about an hour before finally, the detective found her, with a large grin on his face as soon as he spotted her - He showed off the pink luggage.

"Well done, Mr. Sherlock! Quite remarkable!" she quickly placed back the console inside her purse, giving him a little round of applause. It seemed that, either her praise, or the respect given, took him aback.

"Mr...?" he blinked, clearly surprised. "We are in the same age-range; I'd say there's no need to address me so formally."

"You had the courtesy of being a gentleman with me, and even using honorifics - How could I, in good faith, elude my own politeness? Is England not the land of polite people?" his eyes narrowed for a split second, seemingly analysing her for another quick scan. He was almost like a robot, working on statistics and calculations for most of his time. 

"Quite so - A good century ago, that is. Surely, you've had the pleasure of meeting Sergeant Donovan before." that remark seemed to earn a scoff of amusement from the lady.

"I had - But hopefully, Anderson's wife hadn't; Donovan must be quite the devout worshipper..." Sherlock looked down with shock at the little tricksy lady, and with the cunning look she gave him, he could only feel a grin forming on his face.

"Oh, you, mischief!" he exclaimed with delight. "Let's get inside - You deserve a nice cuppa; And some biscuits. Mrs. Hudson makes amazing tea and biscuits."

"Ah!" Raven gasped. "I did want to ask - I may not be a genius, but I still have to ask - How, exactly, did you know where I live?" Sherlock blinked in surprise, looking as the lady pointed towards the same block he lived in. "Second floor, Flat 3. Been here for a good three years."

"I'm more surprised we haven't met before." Holmes hummed, gallantly opening the door for her. "Same block, frequenting the same workplace from time to time - Surely, I'd remember..."

"Did you move in recently?" Raven asked, looking around the place. "No - Rather... You've got a new flatmate. Did John - If you don't mind me addressing him this way - Join you recently? Today, perhaps?"

"Sounds deduction!" the man nodded, "Yesterday." throwing the luggage on the couch, calling for Mrs. Hudson to make them a nice cuppa.

"I'm not your housekeeper, Sherlock." the old lady shook her head, but as soon as she noticed the blue haired woman, she exclaimed delightful, and they exchanged pleasantries. "Alright, just this time, since you've got such pleasant company! Oh, Sherlock, but Raven is such a sweet girl - Her and her flatmate are simply a delight to have around! And you should see her winning at cards and bingo!"

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, you are simply too kind! No need to flatter me - We all know you are the loveliest woman alive!" they kissed each others' cheeks as if they were blood family. "You know how happy I am to pair up with you and earn money - Those old relics can never compete with us!"

Sherlock watched the interaction between the two ladies with a half-smirk on his face; He was thoroughly amused, what a flawless day! Finally, something to stir him out of the mundane boredom of life! Mrs. Hudson returned to serve them tea and biscuits, and as she left, the man couldn't help but look at the blue haired lady and her perfect mannerisms as she sipped from her tea - Yet said nothing.

Raven, however, slowly averted her piercing gaze towards the man's own cerulean eyes; With makeup highlighting her own eyes, it almost seemed as if she could peer into his soul - Or even read his mind. "I helped her with some drug problems."

"Helped her smuggle, didn't you?" oh, he knew just how to charm a girl! As she nodded, he continued. "Her husband was about to be executed."

"And you ensured that was exactly what happened." she stated, not asked. The satisfied smile on his face was enough confirmation.

"Well then!" he cleared his throat after finishing his cuppa. "Forgive my manners - I need to think." he unbuttoned his shirt sleeve, put three nicotine patches on his arms, then stretched out on the sofa with his head towards the window and resting on a cushion. "I need John - Could you take my phone and message him until he finally decides to show up? I don't suppose we've got all day, do we." He pushed up his arms, eyes closed and pressing the palm of his right hand firmly onto the underside of his left arm, just below the elbow. After some seconds his eyes snap open wide and he stared fixedly up towards the ceiling, then sighed out a noisy breath, and relaxed. Sherlock repeatedly clenches and unclenches his left fist.

"Never heard of nicotine patches helping with thinking." Raven found herself speaking in a soft voice, as to not startle him out of his trance. "I suppose smokers haven't had it easy these days."

"Can't do anything fun these days. No wonder everyone's so simple-minded." he scoffed, continuing his routine, hearing the amusement in her breath, as she continued to send texts to John, until finally, he returned home.

He looked at Sherlock, blinked in bewilderment, then asked what the hell he was doing. He only received a brief, but explanatory reply. "Bad news for brain work." he ended with a snarky remark.

"It’s good news for breathing." the medic spoke the truth. "Oh, breathing. Breathing’s boring." he waved his hand dismissively. "But useful." the lady chuckled lightly. "Is that three patches?" the medic never seems to get a break. "It’s a three-patch problem." came the answer, followed by a long silence. "Well?" the silent continued. "You asked me to come. I’m assuming it’s important." "Oh, yeah, of course. Can I borrow your phone?" he extended his hand with his palm upwards. "My phone?" John asked once again - How could he have the audacity...? "Don’t wanna use mine. Always a chance that the number will be recognised. It’s on the website." the detective spoke nonchalantly. "Raven's got a phone. Mrs Hudson’s got a phone." the medic was getting evidently frustrated at the inconveniences sent his way. "Raven is a public person and Mrs. Hudson is downstairs. I tried shouting but she didn’t hear." the lady in cause couldn't help but blink in shock. "Accidentally stumbled upon your forensics blog. Tried a few of the experiments myself. Well made videos."

"Much obliged." she coughed softly, still in shock at what she just heart. "Sherlock!" John exclaimed, thoroughly exasperated. "I was on the other side of London!" "There was no hurry." says he, after making her send countless obnoxious texts. John ended up placing his phone on Sherlock's outstretched hand, and he glowered for a few moments; Sherlock brought his hands together in a praying position, and he started thinking out loud. "So what’s this about – the case?" John starts speaking again, as he's got no answer whatsoever. "Her case." Sherlock answered very vaguely. "Her case?" John pressed on. "er suitcase, yes, obviously. The murderer took her suitcase. First big mistake." Sherlock repeated himself. "Okay, he took her case. So?" no reply from the detective, as he was talking to himself instead. "It’s no use, there’s no other way. We’ll have to risk it. On my desk there’s a number. I want you to send a text." he handed John back the phone. "You brought me here ... To send a text." poor John was done with his flatmate. "Text, yes. The number on my desk." the detective pressed once more, holding the phone, until John got over his thoughts of homicide, stomped across the room and snatched back his phone. The atmosphere was quite tense in the room. "What’s wrong?" "Just met a friend of yours." what an intriguing affirmation - Even more so, considering Sherlock's reaction. "A friend?" he truly was confused out of his mind. The freak doesn't have friends, as everyone knows. "An enemy." John corrected himself. "Ohh. Which one?" the detective seemed to have more enemies than Superman himself. "Your arch-enemy, according to him. Do people have arch-enemies?" yes, that was quite surprising. Was this guy a Lex Luthor level genius too? "Did he offer you money to spy on me?" he must know who it was! John answered affirmatively "Did you take it?" this time, negatively. "Pity. We could have split the fee. Think it through next time." definitely unafraid of this supposed arch-enemy! "Who is he?" that's an answer Raven also wants to know! "The most dangerous man you’ve ever met, and not my problem right now." he answered, clearly not wanting to think about this mystery person.

"I'm intrigued now..." the girl sighed, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I'm sure you'll meet him soon enough." Sherlock answered her elusively. "John, on my desk, the number." "Jennifer Wilson. That was ... Hang on. Wasn’t that the dead woman?" the medic had a revelation. "Yes. That’s not important. Just enter the number. Are you doing it?" affirmative answer. "Have you done it?" poor man wasn't so swift with his texting. "These words exactly - What happened at Lauriston Gardens? I must have blacked out. Twenty-two Northumberland Street. Please come.” "You blacked out?" John looked with confusion at the detective. "What? No. No! Type and send it. Quickly." Sherlock went into the kitchen, picking up the suitcase and throwing it back in the living room, opening it. "Have you sent it?" he had to repeat the address.

As John sent the text, he looked around him, noticing the open suitcase; There were few items of clothing and underwear – all in varying shades of pink – a washbag, and a paperback novel He turned towards the case and staggered slightly in shock once he realised what he was looking at. "That’s ... That’s the pink lady’s case. That’s Jennifer Wilson’s case."  Sherlock looked up at him, from the comfort of his chair. "Oh, perhaps I should mention: I didn’t kill her." why would he have to clarify the obvious? "I never said you did." John frowned at his flatmate. "Why not? Given the text I just had you send and the fact that I have her case, it’s a perfectly logical assumption." the detective reasoned the unreasonable. "Do people usually assume you’re the murderer?" he received a positive answer.

"That's... Quite sad, actually." the woman found herself muttering under her breath. Sherlock put his hands onto the arms of the armchair and lifted his feet up and under him so that he was perching on the seat with his backside braced against the back rest, then clasped his hands under his chin. "Okay ..." John limped across the room and dropped heavily into the chair on the other side of the fireplace. "How did you get this?"

"By looking." came the diminutive answer, that evidently asked for clarification.  "The killer must have driven her to Lauriston Gardens. He could only keep her case by accident if it was in the car. Nobody could be seen with this case without drawing attention – particularly a man, which is statistically more likely – so obviously he’d feel compelled to get rid of it the moment he noticed he still had it. Wouldn’t have taken him more than five minutes to realize his mistake. I checked every back street wide enough for a car five minutes from Lauriston Gardens and anywhere you could dispose of a bulky object without being observed. Took less than an hour to find the right skip." that truly was a fascinating explanation! Unlike Raven, who was thoroughly directionally challenged, Sherlock knew his geography to a flawless degree. "Pink." John deadpanned. "You got all that because you realized the case would be pink?" "I had my help." he shared a glance with the blue haired woman that was sitting back on the armchair, smiling enigmatically. "Well, it had to be pink, obviously." "Why didn’t I think of that?" asked himself out loud. "Because you’re an idiot." Sherlock's answer shocked them both.

"Sherlock!" the lady called out to him. "That was rude - You can't speak like that to John!" "No, no, no, don’t look like that. Practically everyone is." the look on both their eyes told Sherlock to shut up and stop digging his hole even more. "Now, look. Do you see what’s missing?" he pointed towards the luggage contens. "From the case? How could I?" he frowned, incredulous.

"Remember what Raven said she was looking for in the abandoned house?" Holmes gave a hint, which the medic took.

"The phone - She was looking for a phone, but there was none. In the house, in her pockets - There was no phone or organiser." the detective was pleased with his flatmate's attention span. "Exactly! Where’s her mobile phone? If there was no phone on the body, no phone in the case - Where is it? We know she had one – That’s her number there; you just texted it." Holmes explained quickly. "Maybe she left it at home." came one answer. "She has a string of lovers and she’s careful about it. She never leaves her phone at home." that's one very valid reason.

"That, and considering her media workplace, and her leaving town - Along with the fact that most people don't leave home without their phone in the pocket - There was bound to be a phone somewhere in her coat or suitcase." Raven also chimed in with her own explanation. "She could have lost it." John reasoned once again, only for the detective to ask for an alternative. "The murderer ... You think the murderer has the phone?" bingo. "Maybe she left it when she left her case. Maybe he took it from her for some reason. Either way, the balance of probability is the murderer has her phone." Sherlock explained. "Sorry, what are we doing? Did I just text a murderer?! What good will that do?" John still remained evidently confused. As if on cue, his phone begins to ring. He picked it up and looked at the screen for the Caller I.D. "A few hours after his last victim, he receives a text that can only be from her. If somebody had just found that phone they’d ignore a text like that, but the murderer ... Would panic." Holmes stared intently at the phone. "He thinks Jennifer is alive and could give him in to the police." the lady spoke up also. Sherlock flipped close the lid of the suitcase and stood up, walking across the room to pick up his jacket. As John continued to stare down at his phone, he put on his jacket and walked towards the door. Raven, also, stood up, placed the trench over her shoulders, and smiled to the two men. 

"Going to Northumberland Street to spy on our little mousie?" Sherlock's eyes got a new spark of vitality, and he nodded at her. "Very well - I will leave you two, darling, to have fun on your own. You see - Legwork of this degree is not quite suitable to my tastes." she looked so coquettish and femininely playful. "I am a lady - I couldn't possibly mess up my outfit." she continued. "And besides - I have got a few lovely bottles of blue effervescent liquid waiting for me at home. Far cosier, and with more sugary coffee than your hide-and-seek game."

"What - What's she saying?" John blinked - What was that about blue liquid?

"She's staying home to die her hair." he translated for her. "I haven't asked you to dumpster dive - Naturally, I wouldn't ask you to be chasing around killers in shady back-alleys, in the middle of the night. As you said - Not quite the behaviour of a gentleman, am I right?" John frowned, looking at Holmes - Why was he speaking so... Gallant, to her? Did he... Did he fancy this lady he's just met? Curiosity was greatly bothering him, but that would already be bordering nosiness! It would be terribly rude of him!

Just the the two of them were ready to leave, they heard the lady speak again. "Sherlock - I am sure you have already figured out by now - But Jennifer must have willingly stepped inside a car; It couldn't be someone she knew, so clearly, a stranger. What car driven by a stranger do people willingly step into? Cabs. But Taxis can be highly elusive, especially with how well drivers know shortcuts and back alleys." a few moments of silence stemmed between the trio, before John muttered a small 'Brilliant!'. To think she was worthy of his instinctive praise - She was so flattered!

"Where have you been my entire life?" Sherlock found himself asking dramatically. "Life is so boring without people like you around!" it almost seemed like he was washed over by a veil of relief.

"Hiding in my home and at work like a hermit." she smiled like a princess. "Now on you go, you two. Knock on my door once you've finished your chasing mission. I am thrilled to find out the culprit!" Nodding at each other, Raven watched the two men leave the building, before returning into her own flat; It was engulfed into a soothing scent of coffee and cinnamon from all the scented candles and incense burning, and soft jazz music was playing in the living-room. It seemed Lea wasn't home; She must still be at the lab, working. 

She always did love taking care of herself - What was life without some self-care, they say - And what better way than some nice scents, lovely music, and skincare while dyeing your hair! She also had some nice tea bought recently, and leftover chocolate cake from the previous night.

The lady found herself singing along Ella Fitzgerald during her bubble bath, and with Edith Piaf while drying her hair and styling it. She was already dressed in her pink silk negligee, with the robe over, and humming Marilyn Monroe's thrills while sipping her sweet Cherry Vanilla tea, and eating cake, reading one of her favourite book, 'The Extraordinary Adventures of Arsène Lupin, Gentleman-Thief' by Maurice Leblanc.

Some time later in the evening, while Raven was waltzing around the living room to some romantic song, drinking from her glass of rose, she heard a commotion from the apartment downstairs; Were Sherlock and John home? No clearly, it couldn't be them - The noise is too suspect. No way the lodgers of that flat would behave so... Uncouth. With a strike of bravery, she got her wooly slippers on - Even the slippers had a little heel - And went to investigate downstairs, holding the silk coat tighter to her body.

As she peeked inside the creaked-open door, she realised she knew the robbers. "Gregory Lestrade!" she marched inside the flat, clearly offended, seeing Lestrade casually lounging on the chair by the fireplace, whilst the whole team was searching through the house. "How dare you break into Sherlock's home! You may want to be looking for Jennifer's suitcase and figure out the mystery behind her death - But you cannot just -- You can't! You can't burst into someone's house like that! Nearly gave me a heart attack, yes, you did!" she scolded him, quite like a furious grandma. "I am so disappointed in you - Not quite the gentleman behaviour the British advertise so much!"

"Well, you see - We didn't break in, not technically. I'd call this a drug bust, instead." Greg replied simply. "Yes, I know - I knew Sherlock would find the case; I knew, clearly, by how well you two worked together, the case would progress quickly; But he hasn't updated me in the least, and I need answers - Answers that I'm here to get myself." he explained.

"So, you get the suitcase, and what?" the lady huffed, indignant. "Look around that luggage all you want - You'll never reach the logic of it by yourself, no matter how much you try..." her voice lowered softly in realisation. "And you know it." she stopped speaking for a few seconds, seeing the sardonic smile on his face. "You're here to pressure Sherlock into giving you the right answers."

"Right as always." Lestrade nodded his head. "And, just in time, I hear them also. Good! About time." he huffed, getting even more comfortable in that armchair.

"What, in the world, is this?!" Sherlock, freaked out at having the whole police squad sniffing his room for drugs, shouted at Lestrade. "It’s a drugs bust." came the nonchalant response. "Seriously?! This guy, a junkie?! Have you met him?!" John was warned by both Holmes and the bluenette, but he continued his baseless defense. "I’m pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn’t find anything you could call recreational." Sherlock, once again, tried to shut him up under his breath. "Yeah, but come on ... No!" he finally realised. "You?" "Shut up!" Sherlock snarked at his flatmat. "Anderson - You won't find drugs hiding inside the violin - It's too precious for him. Just put that down, you're staining it with your brainless-germs." Raven sneered at the dumb agent.  "What, An... Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?" Sherlock gasped, seeing that idiot's face. "Oh, I volunteered." Anderson smirked evilly at his opponent. "They all did. They’re not strictly speaking on the drugs squad, but they’re very keen." Lestrade explained casually, seeing the stress taking over the young detective. "Are these human eyes?" Donovan showed the jar, wearing a disgusted expression on her face. "Put those back!" Holmes snapped immediately. "They were in the microwave!" she cried out, but still placed them back. "It’s an experiment!" "Keep looking, guys." Lestrade ordered his agents.

"Enough!" Raven's voice, albeit still soft, managed to grab their attention. "That's enough! You're not pressuring him - You're pressuring me! You're pressuring John! And above all - You're pressuring Mrs. Hudson!" she protested. "You guys burst into this place, giving me a massive heart attack because I thought we had home-invaders, and I'm a lone, defenseless woman just upstairs! And now - I'm in a room full of idiots who are making me feel highly uncomfortable, and I am dressed like this! Have you people no shame at all for collateral victims?!" clearly, it was a way to went out; Truth be told, although her outfit was clearly standing out from everyone else, hardly anyone was focused enough on the newcomers, as they were more interested in finding clues to incriminate Public Enemy #1, Sherlock Holmes. "Can't you two just start cooperating with each other and stop this childish charade already? We're investigating a murder, not playing house!" "Fine." Greg grumbled, getting up from his seat. "Let’s work together. We’ve found Rachel. She's Jennifer Wilson’s only daughter." "Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter’s name? Why?" Sherlock interrogated the detective. "Never mind that. We found the case. According to someone, the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath." Anderson simply HAD to speak again. "I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research." Holmes proudly admitted. "You need to bring Rachel in. You need to question her. I need to question her." "She’s dead." "Excellent! How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be." not many people would call a child's death 'excellent'. What an eccentric man he is. "Well, I doubt it, since she’s been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson’s stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago." Greg explained a little further - He surely thought their lead was just as dead as this girl. "No, that’s ... that’s not right. How ... Why would she do that? Why?" Sherlock seemed to have so many unanswered questions in his head, all of them provoked by this unknown name. "Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup – sociopath; I’m seeing it now." Anderson rolled his eyes, returning to his faux drug bust. "She didn’t think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt." so... Clearly, something stronger. Something going further than family ties, something that she'd use frequently, something of great importance to her...

"A password!" Raven exclaimed out of nowhere. "But from where..." her phone is at the killer, and she didn't have any other technology. Considering her media personality profession... She would need a more performant cellphone, perhaps? Something that would be good enough to use, instead of a laptop - It's easier to carry, cheaper, and you can do figuratively the same thing? So... A password... "We can figure out the phone's location! Smartphones have GPS!" she had her eureka moment, realising her phone was in her coat, and she tried to see how easily she could ping her own location - The answer was, very easy.

But her comment wasn't heard, as Sherlock was arguing around with everyone, and Mrs. Hudson just entered the flat to comment on what a mess the police did - And to tell Sherlock his taxi's arrived. "Marvelous!" Raven exclaimed, feeling her legs trembling softly. In an instant, she lunged to the laptop, accessing the smartphone GPS website whilst Sherlock was trying to make John think of what a dying person's last thoughts and words would be - And then, she went to the old lady, placing her hands on her shoulders. "Could you please do me a favour and tell Sherlock that I love my dog very much? After this loud mess ends - They're giving me a migraine, I wouldn't want you to be afflicted as well."

"Yes, of course, dearie, of course - But, what are you doing, dressed like this - Oh, it's all their fault, my poor girl!" the old lady exclaimed softly.

"I would be very appreciative, if you were to scold them about this. They deserve it, truly!" Raven kissed both her cheeks. "I have to catch that cab - Oh, right, maybe you should also tell that to Sherlock... Once he's calmed down a little."

"Darling, you can't -- Not dressed like that, surely -- It's not safe for a beautiful young lady like yourself -- At least get Sherlock with you!" the poor, worrying old woman tried to call out to the bluenette, but she was already bolted out of the block, and in front of the old man driver.  The night wind was cold on her skin, and she kept her silk coat tightly around her exposed body - Why the hell did she have to get face to face with a serial killer, while she's wearing a negligee?! That's simply disrespectful. These people have forgotten the old myths of British Etiquette!

Still, she smiled, trying to keep her flying hair in check. The old man was leaning back on the door of the black cab, his hands dug deep in his pockets. "Forgive me - I know you were expecting Sherlock Holmes. I am sorry to disappoint." she spoke with fake cordiality.

"Nothin' to be disappointed 'bout, Miss Black. You 'ave been noticed, just as well as Mr. 'olmes." he told her with courtesy. "You've got yourself a fan." came further. "I, also, 've seen your website - Work of art."

"Thank you. You are flattering me." Raven spoke suspiciously. "But you would have much rather preferred to have Sherlock here, instead of me, correct?"

"You, or Mr. 'olmes, it matters little for me. The both of you are the same - You are clever, and enjoy the thrill." the cabbie smirked for a split second. "Tell you what - If y'want, I'll just stay here, an' you can call the police, and I let 'em take me." he shared eye contact with her for a few very intense seconds. "But you won't do it, will you?" he pressed on. "You want to solve the puzzle, not do justice for the victims."

"You seem to have done your homework quite well." Raven retorted. "Or, perhaps, this fan of mine has been rather active."

The cabbie smiled, but spoke not another word on the matter; he opened the door to the backseat. "Let me take you for a ride."

"So you can kill me too?" the girl smiled sardonically.

"I never killed nobody." he shook his head. "I talked to them - And then - They killed themselves." he affirmed serenely. "If you get the coppers now, I promise you one thing - I will never tell you what I said." the girl couldn't help but gulp. Her sense of self-preservation was being taken over by her love for thrill and murder-mystery. She always did feel alive reading Agatha Christie's books - And now, she was living in one. "Surely, you want to know how those people died, don't you? That's what you truly care about - Not justice."

Without another word, Raven climbed in the backseat, eager, but also anxious and deathly afraid of the consequences of her actions. "Did you know who I was just because I came before you?"

"You stand out, Miss Black; Few ladies who dye their hair that-a-colour; And even fewer this clever." she nodded at that answer. It made perfect sense. It wasn't as if she was hiding herself - She had a blog, and surely, she must have posted a picture of herself there, on some occasion. Even she doesn't quite remember. Or, perhaps, this supposed fan of hers did his homework far better than she'd expected.

"You're not going to tell me more about this mysterious admirer, are you?" the man seemed to affirm her suspicions.

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Whilst Raven was silently analysing the subtle hints around the cab, Sherlock kept trying to think, and think, and ponder, but it was hardly helping. What was so special about a stillborn child, that Jennifer thought to painstakingly carve her name into the wood?

"Hey, Sherlock - When did you turn on the laptop?" John found himself asking.

"Laptop? I haven't turned it on, why would I---" looking at the opened website, his jaw dropped slightly. "Oh...!" he lunged for the suitcase, and attached to a tag, he saw Jennifer's e-mail account; He inserted it into the GPS-location finder, and than the password; "Rachel is the password." he watched with hollow eyes as the website kept struggling to find the location of Jennifer's phone, and then he recalled hearing Raven's voice, so low and delicate compared to the heated mess from earlier; No wonder no one even heard her. She said something - What did she say? Well, there was no one else who could have opened this website, clearly, so she must have figured out this thing.

Did she... Did she outsmart him? HIM? THE Sherlock Holmes himself?

Oh, what a woman, what a woman!

He turned around, ready to kiss her pretty smart head again, "Absolutely brilliant you are---" but she was nowhere in sight. "... Has anyone seen Raven? Where'd she gone?" everyone fumbled around, clueless.

"Oh, finally, you've all quietened down. Such a ruckus!" Mrs. Hudson returned to the flat.

"Mrs. Hudson, quick - Have you seen Raven?! She's disappeared, she--" Sherlock frantically grabbed the old woman's shoulders, quite literally mimicking the earlier behaviour of the forensics doctress, yet with a little more strength in his grip.

"Oh, yes, dearie, she took that cab." Sherlock's mind went blank. "I told her not to - Not dressed like that - Oh, but she was hurrying! I don't know where, but she was!"

"Did she say anything? Anything at all?!" Holmes voice was erratic - Why would she go in the clutches of a serial killer, willingly and weaponless?! Was she mad?! "Mrs. Hudson, that woman went in the cab of a serial killer - Anything she said might help us find her!"

"Oh, poor darling! You have to find her, Sherlock, you simply have!" the old woman exclaimed with worry. "She's told me to tell you that she took the cab - But only when you've finally calmed the waters around - Worried I would get a headache, you see? - And then, she said something else, though quite peculiar, I can't understand why she'd say that, but--"

"But what, Mrs. Hudson? Come on, tell me!" the curly haired detective tried to rush the old woman and her antics.

"She told me to tell you... That she loves her dog the most in this life! Is that some sort of riddle? A code?" everyone around frowned, pondering - Only Holmes knew, just as she anticipated.

"Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson. I'll bring her back safe. I know how to find her." he lunged for the laptop again, searched for her website and input the e-mail in the smartphone GPS-location tracker website, and the password was the name of her old darling - Fifi.

Coincidentally, the tracker for Jennifer's phone, and Raven's phone, were going to the same place: Roland-Kerr Further Education College. Why there? Did it mean anything to the cabbie, or was it simply one of those good murder spots that only an inconspicuous taxi driver would know about?

Silly woman; Troubleseeker woman; Danger prone woman! Couldn't you just wait ten more minutes until I'd figure it out, Sherlock thought to himself; Not only was he pissed that the answer completely eluded him, but also, someone outsmarted him! He should have known! She warned him about a cab - He also had been on the lookout for a cab - So why the hell didn't he listen to Mrs. Hudson when she told him about that damn cab? Oh, if only he just listened, for once! But how could he? Lestrade's band of idiots were far too loud! Mrs. Hudson and Raven simply must make their voices heard!

Even he didn't believe that. There was nothing wrong with their voices - There was something wrong with him! If he can't even listen when it matters, what kind of genius detective is he? He wouldn't hear the end of it from Mycroft;  And what's worse - She's dressed like that! She doesn't always think much, does she? The thrill got the best of her - And how could he ever blame her, when he is just the same! How infuriating!

"I've got to save her!" was the last thing Sherlock exclaimed as he comically strode out of the flat, leaving people around think whatever they wanted to think. Still, with the website on, it wasn't difficult to understand the gist of it - Raven had been kidnapped by the serial killer, they had her location, and now they had to go rescue her. Clear as that!

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The cabbie stopped in front of this large building - It was a college, Raven knew, but her orientation skills were lacking far too hard to recognise it, simply by following the streets. The old man opened her door, gesturing for her to exit the taxi. "And you just walk your victims in? How? Manipulation? Blackmail?" the girl asked, only to find herself with a pistol raised to her face. "Oh, come on!" she rolled her eyes, and with a huff, she scurried out of the car, hugging her clothes closer to her vulnerable, petite body. The man led her to a large classroom, where they sat at the table, opposite of each other. She felt so uncomfortable, dressed in her sleeping clothes, more revealing than she was comfortable being seen; How very irritable, being out of the comfort and safety of her home - Outside, with a serial killer! Ridiculous. "So? what now? You said we were going to talk, and then I'll kill myself." Raven leaned back on the chair seat, looking down at the cabbie. "Go ahead. I am waiting."

Thus, the man took out two small glass bottles with screw tops, and put them on the table; Inside of each, there was a single, large capsule; One had a blue tint, and the other was more greenish. "You weren’t expecting that, were yer? Ooh, you’re going to love this." "Love what?" the girl sighed, evidently bored. "I haven't seen much yet."

"Raven Black! Look at you! ’Ere in the flesh." he exclaimed, apparently triumphant for getting her in that exact spot. "Are you sure you're not actually just disappointed it's not Sherlock here? I know - He's the smart, witty one, I get it - And that website of his, pretty clever, agree." she replied simply; If anything, she was hoping the man in cause had come to his senses and was on his way to save her already. She might be impulsively seeking for an answer to these murders, but she wasn't seeking imminent death! "Don't worry, dear. That fan of yours thinks you'd be the perfect bait for him. And that website of yours... He told me about it." the cabbie told her. "Not sure why my fan would think I'd be a great bait for Sherlock, provided that we barely met today." the girl frowned, confused at this supposition.

"Because you are both brilliant, that's why!" the man exclaimed, certain of himself. "You just had to meet, and it was sure you'd hit it off quite well! So did this fan of yours said - And so it happened." he chuckled dryly. "That website of yours - Nefarious Fascinations - Now that is proper thinking. Between you and me sitting ’ere, why can’t people think? Don’t it make you mad? Why can’t people just think? The incompetence?" "So you made this string of suspicious murders to attract the police into calling both myself and Sherlock to investigate, and thus, meet; Was that your plan? Truly?" man seemed to be having fun. "You fancy yourself a genius? A proper thinker, then?"

"Don’t look it, do I? Funny little man drivin’ a cab. But you’ll know better in a minute. Chances are it’ll be the last thing you ever know." he seemed so certain of himself; He had such a creepy aura that it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Where was Sherlock when she needed him?

"Okay, two bottles. I've seen this in movies before. One of them is going to kill one of us, you take the other, to make me more excited and actually play this game of yours, and I have to choose the one I think is going to save me, correct? And you're supposed to know which is the good one." she explained, looking carefully at the cabbie. He wasn't that easy to analyse - That's what terminal illness does to you.

"Precisely. Very well, miss Black." great, now he praises her more. 

"Well, why should I? I can just leave the place and call the police." she explained, thinking of a strategy. Should she stall and pray Sherlock gets to her? Or should she come up with her theory and see if she's lucky? Most poisons don't take so little to act - By the time Sherlock gets there, he might be able to save her... Or something.

"I won’t cheat. It’s your choice. I’ll take whatever pill you don’t. Don't you want to see how great your instinct is? Or your deduction power?" she wasn't known for her deductions - That was Sherlock. She shouldn't be here; That supposed fan should know this, if he took so long to stalk her. She's smart, yes, but she will never come anywhere close to Sherlock - And definitely, she wouldn't bet her life on her making a correct deduction choice.

"So this is what you did to the rest of them: you gave them a choice." stalling it was, then. Her only option, until help arrives; Although, there were quite some interesting things she's noticed about this man, his behaviour, and especially what was in the car. 

"And now I’m givin’ you one. You take your time. Get yourself together. I want your best game." Raven found herself huffing; Time to bluff, then. She was a theater kid, she knew how to play - And she's gonna play the hell out of this night.

"It’s not a game. It’s a gamble. Get it right." she snapped at him, rolling her eyes like a spoiled brat.

"I’ve played four times. I’m alive. It’s not chance, it’s chess. It’s a game of chess, with one move, and one survivor. And this ... This ... Is the move." he talked to her with urgency.

"I've never been one to gamble, especially not for my life, for I know I'm considerably unlucky. Hence why this fan took interest in me as well, I suppose. Did he want me dead? Otherwise, I wouldn't quite understand why he chose me, of all people. I just have a website with forensics experiments - Sherlock is the one with the genius deduction skills." she tried to refute, but he wasn't dumb, clearly, he was quite the orator himself.

"But what do you think? Did I just give you the good bottle or the bad bottle? You can choose either one. You ready yet?Ready to play?" he was rushing her - Did he know help was on the way? He might be suspecting it by now. Was she out of time?

"Play what? It’s a fifty-fifty chance. Just a gamble. I don't like this one bit." Raven scoffed once again, shifting in her seat.

"You’re not playin’ the numbers, you’re playin’ me. Did I just give you the good pill or the bad pill? Is it a bluff? Or a double-bluff? Or a triple-bluff?" the cabbie kept trying to play her, to make her get into his game; He tried to manipulate her perception of this supposed game. "Just luck." she declared plainly.

"Four people in a row? It’s not just chance." he tried to pose, but she was unbudged.

"Ultimate luck." she snapped once again.

"It’s genius. I know ’ow people think. I know ’ow people think I think. I can see it all, like a map inside my ’ead." he declared oh so brilliantly.

"Everyone’s so stupid – even you." what a bold declaration coming from someone's who's internally panicking out of her mind.

"Or maybe God just loves me." he seemed so confident in himself. "Don't use that Divine Providence rubbish with me. Either way, you’re wasted as a cabbie. You risked your life four times just to kill strangers. Why?" he pushed one of the bottles towards her.

"Time to play."

"Oh, I am playing. This is my turn, so let me psychoanalyze you a bit. There’s shaving foam behind your left ear ,just so you know - So you live alone. Your wife left you, didn't she - And took those two kids with her. Is that why you kill? This fan of mine - He's your sponsor, isn't he? Can't imagine you're earning much by driving people around, so you retorted to becoming a hitman." Raven smirked at him. "I don't believe you were hired just to get me and Sherlock to meet - That's not the only reason; In fact, I think that was a bonus on your part, to entertain this sponsor. Must have paid your kids real good." she stopped speaking, but her empty smile grew wider. "You're dying. Terminally ill. Can die any moment. That's why you decided to act now - To provide for your children. You don't see them often, do you. Shame." she continued. "So, what is it? Cancer?"

The man smiled sardonically, tapping the side of his head. "Aneurysm. Right in 'ere. Any breath could be my last. That’s the most fun you can ’ave on an aneurysm." he declared boldly.

"I don't doubt you're having fun - But you're not doing it because you're dying; You're doing it because you love your children. You're a father - Of course your children are your soft spot." she looked into his eyes for a bit. "Jennifer was robbed of being a mother - Fourteen years ago, she gave birth, but the child was stillborn. To this day, her passwords are the name of her unborn child. Rachel." she smiled venomously. "Before she died, Jennifer scratched her daughter's name into the floorboards where you left her. She left the phone with you. She was clever - You killed a very clever woman, you see - She led us right to you. Gave us her GPS tracker to find her phone, knowing it would lead to you. That is worthy of praise, isn't it?" "Ohh. You are good, ain’t you? Yes, you are quite correct, she was clever indeed." he grinned for a split second. "I am poor, you are right - When I die, they won’t get much, my kids. Not a lot of money in driving cabs. My sponsor was generous indeed. For every life I take, money goes to my kids. The more I kill, the better off they’ll be. You see? It’s nicer than you think.You’re not the only one to enjoy a good murder. There’s others out there just like you, except you’re just a girl ... And they’re so much more than that." oh, new information she accidentally extracted! Marvelous! "More? An organisation?" she pried for more.

"There’s a name no-one says, an’ I’m not gonna say it either." that was the finality of his willingness to speak. She's done for. "Now, enough chatter. Time to choose." granted, she's formed a theory in her mind, though she's frightened enough to put it in the motions. It was far-fetched, and she definitely wouldn't gamble her life on it - But, perhaps, it was the only thing she had. "What if I don’t choose either? I could just walk out of here. Or call the cops." at that moment, with a disappointed and cold look in his eyes, he took out the gun; He wasn't just done talking, he was also done waiting. "You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head. Funnily enough, no-one’s ever gone for that option." oh, what an interesting reaction. If no one's ever had the gun, perhaps... It's not even loaded? Could that be it? The way out of this mess?

"I'll have the gun." Raven said, seeing his eyes widening just a little bit. "It doesn't have any bullets in it, does it? Your demeanour changed when you mentioned it - That's the way out of this game. The pills are the game - The gun is the exit. Am I right?"

"Yes, you are quite correct." he chuckled like a tired old man. "You're much better than you realise, Miss Black." he praised, though it felt double-edged. "You see - You were quite correct indeed, for the previous victims, that is. All of them were faced with an ammo-less pistol." he took the magazine out, showing the loaded bullets. "You are an esteemed guest. I couldn't disrespect you by letting you go without playing the real game." that smile of his completely broke her defenses. She's done for, and there's no way out.

"Very well." she nodded her head, trying to keep her composure. "Okay." she looked at the table - The pill with the slightly blue granules was in the bottle in front of her; The slightly green one was in front of the man. There were two glasses of bottle on the table. "I will choose a pill - But you have to take it at the same time as me. Does that work? With a gun to my forehead, I won't back down. I will take it - But you owe me at least that courtesy, yes?"

"Fine. Be that way." at once, Raven slammed her head over the pill bottle; She forced her hands not to tremble as she unscrewed it and felt the pill in her hand, fiddling it with her fingers. Her other hand was gripping tightly the water glass, and she was staring intently at the man, who wasn't touching the water at all. Was that the sign? Was the water poisoned, and not the pills? It had to be that, right? "Are you quite sure with your choice, Miss Black? You can always change your mind, you know?" was he... Taunting her? "You're real clever - But are you clever enough to beat an old cabbie? Clever enough to bet your life?" he continued with his mocking remarks. "Or, perhaps... We should continue this stalling until Sherlock Holmes finally comes to your rescue, and defeats me? That's what you were waiting for, wasn't it? For your hero to save you - You're afraid for your life." he chuckled, playing with that pill. "You're bored out of your mind - But your life is more precious than the thrill of mystery? I wouldn't quite think so." he cocked the gun and pointed it towards her face. "Now."

In one swift move, both the cabbie and the bluenette threw those pills down their throat; Raven's eyes were watering, and her throat was hurting her; She's never taken a pill without water before, this was horrifyingly painful - She felt like she was choking, she wanted to claw her throat out so she could breathe. Her mouth felt too dry to even produce enough saliva to get that pill down properly--

But finally, after so much struggle, that blasted pill made its way down her throat, and into her stomach. "Are you satisfied now?" her voice was raw and whispery from the pain and lack of proper breathing.

"Quite so, Miss Black. You have proven worthy of your fan's attention." he answered - She couldn't help but wonder how the hell did he take so many pills with no water. It's agonising. 

"Then tell me his name. Surely, I deserve to know, after I've beaten this game, right?" the man chuckled, nodding his name.

"Now that you've beaten me, I'm a dead man anyway - It's the only thing I'll tell you." and thus he answered with a single name. 

"Moriarty"

 In that exact moment, two things happened simultaneously - Sherlock burst through the door, whilst John Watson shot the man in the chest; He didn't have time to plead or speak, for his aneurysm popped, and he died in an instant. Raven remained in her chair, spooked and startled out of her mind, but frozen on the spot. That was far too much adrenaline and stress falling down on her in a split second - She feels like she needs a long vacation afterwards.

"What the hell happened?" Sherlock frowned, looking at the dead cabbie, and at the girl; He noticed her being unresponsive, then the two untouched water glasses, and the empty glass bottles. "The pills - Did you take it? Did he force you to play his game?" she nodded her head. "Lestrade's outside with the ambulance, let's go -- We can still lavage the poison away with some activated coal, and--" before she could speak, the lady found herself being picked up bridal style; The change in scenery was enough to bring her back to earth.

"Oh! Hey! Don't surprise me like that!" her heart was still beating like crazy. "I've had enough for a while. Give me a second - I need to regain myself. My mind is all over the place." she spoke, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck.

"... Did you really just take poison?" she shook her head. "What happened in there."

"A lot." she coughed dryly, grimacing at the pain. "Don't worry. I haven't taken poison. I'm safe. I won." his eyes widened.

"You won!" she nodded. "Ha! I needn't come to your rescue - You rescued yourself! How quaint. So much for a British gentleman!" his dramatic speech, he knew, would ease her nerves. "But British ladies don't go running around London, in the middle of the night, wearing silk negligee."

"Well - Luckily, I'm not British." she chuckled weakly. "I didn't think this would exhaust me like this."

"Where from Europe are you? Definitely not North, West... Somewhere close to the Center-East, right? Your accent is soft, and you pronounce words carefully. You've been here for quite a few years though - You've developed a bit of a London accent." he pointed out, feeling her muscles slowly relax, bit by bit.

"Romanian." she affirmed. "And no, Raven is not my real name, but a nickname I've been having since early highschool days. Thought it would be easier for people to pronounce my name like that - Until I had the chance to legally change my real name, so an English equivalent." she explained it quite simply. "But don't mention it yet. I've just recently managed to get my papers done."

"Noted." the man smirked, smug to know his theories were correct. "I know a Chinese restaurant closeby. Opened till 2. Shall we? John's waiting."

"Yeah... Sounds good. Although..." she looked down at her outfit. "Awkward."

"I made sure to grab your coat before I left." that smile she offered him as he mentioned his attention to detail - What a lovely, yet tired smile she had. "How did it go?"

"The game? Well... Two pills, one blueish, the other greenish - Though I could have been fooled by the dim lights - And two glasses of water. Frankly - He had a gun; I was sure it was a fake, based on his changed demeanour - It was either getting shot, or taking the pill, so I thought the gun was fake - But I've never seen a gun in my life, so I couldn't tell. I just thought - Since he mentioned no one ever chose the gun, then perhaps, that was the safe bet." he nodded his head, encouraging for her to continue. "But he showed me the bullets - Said the other guns were fake, yes - But this one definitely wasn't, and thus, I had to play."

"How did you know what pill to take?" his professional curiosity was killing him.

"I... Didn't." she admitted.

"What?!" he was stupefied. Did this foolish girl gamble her life away, even if she wasn't sure she was right? Surely, he would never - He is always CERTAIN of his choices; His deduction skills are good enough to have confidence that he'd never die, were it to come to such a scenario. "What do you mean - You didn't know? You just said you weren't poisoned. How do you know?"

"Well... I kept insisting this is a game of chance, not of wits. He, however, said it's chess - So I started thinking a little further. What if it wasn't about the pills, but external factors? He couldn't win through bluffs four times in a row, if it was a coin flip, right? So... I figured out the variable - But I couldn't be sure it was the right one." she instinctively touched her neck.

"What was it?" Sherlock asked, unsure of why she was touching her neck.

"I swallowed the pill with no water." oh, of course, how silly! How simple! "I had him take the pill at the same time as me - As soon as I noticed he wasn't going to touch the water, I realised that was it - Or at least, so I thought. He confirmed me after my coughing fit stopped. You see, I've never taken a pill without water before. It's traumatising."

"So then - We could have tried him to court for serial murder." Sherlock pointed out, though his mind was still at this game. He would have figured it out - Right?

"Well... Possible not." she muttered softly. "He didn't die from the gunshot. His aneurysm popped." she continued, a little hesitant. "The two of us have been set up."

"What do you mean?" he frowned; Finally, they had arrived at the ambulance where the paramedic put an ugly orange shock blanket on her back. 

"Awful colour. I hate orange." she huffed. "The mastermind was a man called Moriarty. He... His organisation... They've been watching us. They've planned this string of murders, knowing we would eventually meet, due to our work circumstances - And that would make for a very amusing situation. This Moriarty was his sponsor - Paid his children for every murder he committed, and a bonus if he managed to get us to meet in person." she continued to explain the story. "And... He's been stalking us. He knows about us very well - The cabbie went as far as to call him our Fan, of all things. Whoever he is, he's done his homework on us very well."

"Moriarty, huh? Never heard of him." he patted her head, as if to stop the conversation; It wasn't a talk for a traumatised woman who wanted little to do with death-doors like that. She was petrified of what just happened; She gave him enough information to get him to investigate as much as possible from the next day onwards. "Don't worry. We'll figure it out." he threw away that blanket, replacing it with her elegant trench, even going as far as to button it up properly, so her nightwear wouldn't show off so much. "I'll talk Lestrade away - Play the shock card - Then we can get away. Sounds good?" she nodded, and he did just that; Shooed the detective away, under the pretense of speaking the next day.

Sherlock wrapped his arm around the lady's body, guiding her towards John Watson, who was now walking perfectly without his cane. He seemed genuinely sympathetic for what she'd been through - Needless to say, he saved her by shooting the cabbie. "Thank you for saving me, you two. I know it was a reckless call on my part."

"Reckless is an understatement." John chuckled, still a little under the effect of his bewilderment. "You climbed in the car of a serial killer - And you knew that! Why?"

"Because... No one was hearing me speak, and I was a little afraid we'd lose him." she explained, shifting a little awkwardly from leg to leg. "I did make sure Mrs. Hudson told Sherlock what was going on. Figured that, once things get a little calmer, either of you would figure out the GPS-thing and find us."

"Still... Sergeant Donovan’s just been explaining everything, the two pills. Been a dreadful business, hasn’t it? Dreadful. You must have been terrified." John clearly had all the emotional intelligence that Sherlock was lacking. "I couldn't have done it without the confidence I had in the two of you." she smiled gratefully at the two of them. "And... John? That was a fantastic shot. Thank you. It couldn't have been easy - Through two windows..." "Just need to get the powder burns out of your fingers. I don’t suppose you’d serve time for this, but let’s avoid the court case." he declared with a bit of mischief in his voice. "Are you all right? Both of you."

"You never feel more alive than when you're close to death." Raven found herself exhaling in relief. "Yes, of course I’m all right." came John's answer. "Well, you have just killed a man." Sherlock peered onto him. "Yes, I ...That’s true, innit? But he wasn’t a very nice man." spoken like a true war veteran. "No. No, he wasn’t really, was he?" the detective agreed with him. "And frankly a bloody awful cabbie. That’s true." John chimed back in.

"Oh, but he was a bad cabbie! I got even more lost than I already was, with all the lefts and rights he took!" Raven dramatically spoke out.   "Stop! Stop, we can’t giggle, it’s a crime scene! Stop it!" John was barely capable of stifling his laughter. These two were such an adorable duo. "Fine, fine - Dinner?" they were all in agreement, only for Watson to stop dead in his tracks, gesturing towards the mysterious arch-enemy of Sherlock Holmes. As expected, he knew just who it was.

The man approached the trio, waving around his shut umbrella nonchalantly. He seemed like a confident man, almost mocking, yet still playful and... With a certain warmth towards Sherlock. Family member? "So, another case cracked. How very public spirited ... Though that’s never really your motivation, is it?" "What are you doing here?" Sherlock was rather hostile towards this very smiling man - Although, this smile was... Impassive. He seemed sort of... Unreachable, but also, quite friendly. A man of many faces. An enigma. "As ever, I’m concerned about you." for some reason, Raven actually believed him.

"Yes, I’ve been hearing about your ‘concern’." is this some kind of heated sibling rivalry? Is Sherlock envious of this brother - An older brother? "Always so aggressive." they did share some theatrical traits. "Did it never occur to you that you and I belong on the same side?" fascinating theory! "Oddly enough, no!" was it an ego thing?

"Forgive me for asking, Mister... Are you Sherlock's older brother? I sense a very strong, one-sided sibling rivalry going on." and to prove a point, Sherlock glared at her quite offended. "Mycroft Holmes." he introduced himself. "Yes, Miss Katrina, you are quite right - And yes, congratulations on your papers finally being accepted, took them long enough - Sherlock and I have more in common than he likes to believe. This petty feud between us is simply childish. People will suffer ... And you know how it always upset Mummy." such a grown man, yet he speaks so sweetly of his mother - What a model!

"Aw! Your mother must be such a lovely lady!" she always did have a soft spot for good parents. She quite missed her own. "I upset her? Me? It wasn’t me that upset her, Mycroft." Sherlock was on the offensive again. "No, no, wait. Mummy? Who’s Mummy?" John still couldn't believe that the so-called arch-enemy was, in fact, Sherlock's older brother. "Mother – Our mother. This is my brother, Mycroft." Sherlock finally introduced the mystery man. "Putting on weight again?" what a low blow! "Losing it, in fact." Mycroft was proud of himself. "He’s your brother?!" poor Watson was flabbergast, perhaps, the most by this revelation, as opposed to everything else happening lately. "Of course he’s my brother." with the way he behaves, one could hardly guess. "So he’s not ... I dunno – Criminal mastermind?" John asked, looking between the two. "Close enough." the younger Holmes grumbled. "You two are quite adorable!" the bluenette chimed in.

"Glad to know this amuses you, Miss Katrina, but for goodness’ sake, Sherlock. I occupy a minor position in the British government." downplaying his underground role, just like a true politician. "He is the British government - When he’s not too busy being the British Secret Service or the CIA on a freelance basis." Sherlock was done with his brother. "Good evening, Mycroft. Try not to start a war before I get home. You know what it does for the traffic." he started walking ahead, towards the Chinese restaurant, not wanting to have his night completely ruined by his sibling. "It was a pleasure meeting you, Mr. Mycroft." the girl smiled at him. "And I wouldn't take him too seriously - He's still a child at heart. Likes to play and all that."

"Wait, so, when - when you say you’re concerned about him, you actually are concerned?" the poor army doctor still couldn't grasp how insane their relationship was. Mycroft affirmed. "I mean, it actually is a childish feud?"

"You don't need to know Sherlock for more than a day to know that his ego is his biggest downfall. He's that kind of bratty younger sibling that always causes mischief -- But he's also the cutest." Mycroft let out a small chuckle at that affirmation; She's met him for less than a day, yet pin-pointed him so well. "He’s always been so resentful. You can imagine the Christmas dinners." both John and Raven - No, Katrina; She can officially call herself by her real name now - Both of them let out their own reactions, imagining a family dinner with these two around, trying not to blow up the Christmas tree! "I-I’d better, um ... Let's go, Raven." John shuffled awkwardly. "Good night."

"Don't worry about him, Mr. Mycroft. He's in good hands, I assure you." Katrina stole a glance at the doctor. "What Sherlock lacks in emotional intelligence, John has plenty. I'd say, there's no better flat mate for Sherlock, than John." she nodded, looking at the two men teasing each other in the distance. The younger Holmes' mood had brightened up as soon as the army doctor came by his side. "Have a lovely evening - And we will keep in touch. He... I am sure he will benefit from any person who genuinely cares about him. I don't suppose there's many." with one last smile, the lady turned around, waving carefree. "Adieu~!"

"Good night, Doctor Kat." with a little chuckle, Mycroft found himself using the nickname she's been using in the past; A nickname that had a nice ring to it. Clever woman, this one, and intuitive. Just what his foolish little brother needs to keep in check, perhaps. She was right - With Doctor Watson by his side, he's sure to be just fine... Or... The two of them might just make his younger brother worse than ever. By the time the lady caught up to the two men, they had already joked about the fortune cookie predictions, about his shoulder shot from Afghanistan, and more - Moriarty - Whoever that may be. They were adorable; Their conversations, their company, they were so pleasant and comfortable to be around - And the restaurant served great food indeed!

It was already 2 in the morning, and the employees kicked them out; It was time to retire for the night and finally sleep. Sherlock Holmes walked the lady up to her door, and made sure she was safe, at least here. "Keep your brilliant little brain safe, will you? Recklessly jumping into the car of a serial killer isn't quite the normalcy I expected from you." he chuckled lightly, before looking at her, a weirdly tender look in his gorgeous, gorgeous eyes. "You did good - But it's not worth, if you get killed."

"That only means you have to hear my voice when I accidentally have revelations, so you can go be the hero and play that dangerous, death-promising game without implicating me." she teased him back. "I don't get how you manage to deal with the thrill - Regardless - I and John will continue to support you through it all... Even with the whole Moriarty thing. Whether we like it or not, we're in this together."

"Finally, a reason to use this." he tapped the side of his head. "The game is on."

Next Chapter >

[drsteggy]

Work in Progress Wednesday

So this isn’t REALLY a WIP, it was more an exercise in writing a scene from a different perspective. This is a later scene from Farore, but from Impa’s perspective. I guess it is technically a little spoilery but whatever. I wanted to share something today so here it is

Impa does not think she will ever really get used to the cold of the Hebra region. The clouded sky seems to close in on the party making its way north, and the entire camp is in a tight circle around the fire. She clutches a tin cup of tea, enjoying the heat of the brew in her hands. The fire dances and pops, drawing her in.

And then Link is next to her. He pulls his wool cloak close to his throat.

“Hey I didn’t see much of you today, how did the ride go?” He fiddles with his gloves, not looking at her yet. He clearly has something on his mind, but he is going to need to come around to things on his own.

“Pretty well. The horse they have me on has a mind of his own, though, and ignores me.”

He turns to her, always ready to talk about horses. “I can teach you some things to get around that. Might be useful if he decides to bolt someday.”

She lets him ramble a bit, watching him relax as he goes on about leg and seat, nodding as he offers advice. When he is done, he turns back to the fire and straightens up.

Here it comes, she thinks. The real reason he came over here.

“Impa.. do you sleep, ever?”

******

She arrives at his tent an hour later. He greets her with a smile and a remarkably tense posture. “You’re sure this is okay?” He asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

She wonders if he gets this wound up every time he has a sleepover with someone.

“Of course.” She smiles, keeping her voice open and friendly. “You do still want me to stay?”

He meets her eyes. She notes the clench of his jaw and the quickness of his breath. Finally, he gives a sharp nod. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

“Great, let’s get settled.”

Link’s tent is really just meant for one. Impa crawls in and wraps herself in the blanket she brought with her. She pats the space next to her, inviting him in.

“Snug. It’s going to be cozy, but there’s room.”

He hesitates and for a moment she thinks he might call things off. Then he joins her, settling in inches from her. She can smell the horse on him, and a note of sweat.

“I’m not trying to do anything improper.” He says, his voice soft.

“I know. I trust you.” She assures him. “You’re not my type anyway.”

“What?” He sounds a little surprised.

She laughs. “Has no one ever said that to you before? I’m not attracted to you. I like women.”

“Oh.”

She laughs again. “That can't be a new idea for you, you were in Gerudo how long? I know that guard -Tasako? you were involved with…”

He squirms. “Has a female partner, yes, we are acquainted. They got married.”

“Why don’t you try and get some sleep? You might feel more comfortable with your back against mine.”

She rolls to her other side, resting her head on her arm. She can feel his breath on the back of her neck before he shifts and leans his back against hers. Hopefully he will sleep peacefully tonight.

“I kissed a man once.” His voice floats out of the darkness. “Like, a real kiss.”

Impa feels a small blossom of surprise, but keeps herself still. “Is this something you want to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. It’s something to talk about and it isn’t all, you know.”

So he can’t sleep, or he isn’t ready to. “If you want to tell me, I’d like to hear.”

“I only ever told Tasako before.” His words come slowly, as though he is now weighing them. “I mean, I was just trying everything when I first got to Castletown. I’d never been on my own like that.”

“He was in my cohort. His name was Shad. We hung out a lot and did dumb teenager stuff. Like we used to take horses and race and jump over stupid things.” She can hear the smile in his voice now. So this is a good memory.

When Link had first taken the sword, she had found a Shad, who had reportedly been his friend. That man had been very closed lipped, though, refusing to say more than he’d been acquainted but hadn’t so much as thought about Link in years. Impa had given up, thinking it a dead end.

This has to be the same guy. “The stable master never caught you?”

“Oh, he caught us,” Link chuckles. “Yeah, we cleaned a lot of stalls over that.”

Link continues on, telling a story about a summer friendship that had sparks. He spins it slowly, but if he takes his time because he is remembering something with fondness or there’s a different reason, she can’t quite tell.

“We went swimming one day and it just turned into being rowdy and wrestling and stuff and then he stopped and asked if he could tell me something and I just said sure.”

“What did he tell you?”

“He said he really wanted to kiss me.”

“And…?” Even Impa can hear the anticipation in her voice. She hopes he kissed Shad. She hopes he did it a lot.

Link shrugs against her back. “I had kissed a few girls and I really liked that. A lot. So I said ok.”

“You’re killing me. Was it good? Did you like it?”

Link huffs. “It was his first kiss, I’m pretty sure, so it was just okay. I did like it.”

“What happened to Shad?”

“I don’t know, we were pretty young, we drifted when summer ended.” He pauses, sighing before continuing on. “Training got more intense. He started to hang out with others. I got involved with a woman who saw me as a toy though I didn’t understand that then. I went to Gerudo, I ended up here.”

They are both quiet. Impa is still learning the edges and depths to Link, and tonight she feels she might be in a little further than he intended. His stillness feels unsettled. Maybe ashamed.

He shouldn’t feel that way about that story.

“Link? It’s okay if you decided it wasn’t for you. It’s okay if you liked it. It’s okay if you’re still not sure how you feel.”

He doesn’t answer her but presses his back against hers more firmly.

He does finally slip off to sleep. She keeps a quiet watch, meditating on the day and what’s ahead.

When he bolts up with a strangled sound in his throat, she turns and throws an arm across his chest. His heart gallops in his chest as she whispers to him that’s it’s okay, everything is okay. He slumps back to his bedding and she moves her hand to his shoulder.

“That was something,” she whispers. “Is that every night?”

He shakes his head “Just recently,” he crosses his arms. “It’s not even anything specific. It’s just...it’s like just feelings. There’s no images or action, it isn’t really a dream.

“I think they come from outside of me.”

“A message, maybe.”

“Something like that.”

They lay together, silent, Impa running her thumb back and forth over his shoulder. She will do this as long as he needs her to. Eventually the tension in his body melts away and he settles into her.

“Impa, thank you for staying with me. This is definitely better.”

“You’re welcome.”

[stripedwolf88]

*sigh* alright. I'm gonna vent about this for hopefully the last time but knowing me it probably won't be. That's fine. We must allow emotions to flow like the river but remember to let them go. I get there eventually.

Don't get distracted dude! Okay my peoples I'm going to "share the tea" as the kids say on that girl that has made me spiral this past week? Week and a half? I don't know what time is anymore honestly.

So...this girl is someone I met at work in October of this past year. We'll call her N okay so that it doesn't get confusing later. Anyway N and I hit it off pretty quickly and that's something for me because I'm pretty socially awkward and I find connecting with people in new settings difficult (who doesn't am I right?) We eventually started texting outside of work which then turned into hanging out together. I will admit I developed a minor crush on her even though I knew pretty early on that she had a partner called H. I have a tendency to "catch feelings" for people who are unavailable mainly straight girls. The reason for this is probably because I know that I'm not ready for a romantic relationship right now and having a crush on someone that you know can't return your feelings is safe and kind of fun? No harm no foul right?

Anyway I just decided to feel my feelings with no outward action that would be disrespectful to their relationship. I will say I gave N quite a few compliments but they fell within platonic bounds like "oh I like how you did your make up today" or "it's funny how you react to certain things" ect. And in no way was I ever physically close in any way because the hell if I am ever going to ever make someone uncomfortable with physical touch like I have in the past.

During our talks, N would sometimes complain about her partner being controlling. Telling her what to wear, getting mad at her for going out alone, getting irritated by who she was hanging out with. Mind you N's partner, H, is in California while we are here in AZ. I don't like H for treating N this way but I know it's not my place to talk crap about her partner. Just listen and sometimes offer support of my friend right? I've butted in where I shouldn't have in the past and it's gotten me into trouble.

So randomly one day H, the partner, adds me on snap when we had already had each other's phone number because N wanted to invite me into the dnd sessions. It didn't work out but I still kept the phone number just in case of whatever ya know?

I told N about H adding me and N tells me about how H got upset when she found that I was gay and that me and N had hung out in her dorm together. N explained to her that I was just a friend and that technically her roommate was technically also there just separated by a wall. (We were in like the living room area of her dorm while the roommate was in the actual bed room on a zoom) We literally just watched a movie and talked for a while about random stuff. Now N had already mentioned that I was gay to H prior to this little fight they had but apparently H forgot or something? At least that's what N told me.

Okay skip forward to a hangout at the nearby mall in which N tells me that H "trusts me" around N. It rubbed me the wrong way because of the other behaviors I listed above. We hangout and I swear N is basically on her phone throughout our outing texting H updates. And normally I would get it but it was incessant. Not every hour. No it was like every 15 minutes she felt the need to be texting her. I got a bit upset. I mean we're trying to hangout anf her being on her phone is making me feel ignored and disrespected. I brush it off saying I'm just being overly sensitive.

Skip to the past couple weeks I get not only a text message but also a Snapchat message from H. I respond cautiously because we haven't ever really spoken to each other prior to this. H cuts right to the chase and tells me she would appreciate that I not hang out with N alone anymore but hopes that this won't affect our friendship. 1. I am uncomfortable at this essential stranger telling me this 2. I am confused as to why I am not hearing this from N who is my friend and should be able to make this boundary with me 3. I begin to think that H is speaking to me without N knowing and essentially telling me to back off.

It takes me a long while to react and what I end up doing is screen shooting the message H sent me and sending it in a group chat that includes N, H, and me. I also write a message that just says " I believe in honesty and transparency" and I'm basically asking where this is coming from still thinking N doesn't know that H has texted me.

I come to find out that N did know that H was going to text me about this. H makes a comment that says "it's interesting that you thought we hadn't talked about this and that N didn't already know." I am immediately hurt at the idea that may not have felt comfortable to tell me this info on her own and angry at being "asked" to do something from a stranger. I convey my hurt and confusion. It turns kind of ugly fast in which H accuses me of butting in to their relationship by making the group chat when I was just trying to have everyone be on the same page and foster more open communication. I try to convey that it wasn't cool that N did not tell me about this change herself and how I would have respected it. They both don't seem to get why I'm upset. I at one point say how weird it is to hear this kind of thing from a stranger and N thinks I'm being disrespectful by calling H that. But that is simply what they are to me because I have never really spoken to H and gotten to know them. N basically ends up saying "I understand that you feel hurt and I had hoped this wouldn't affect our friendship but I understand if you don't want to be friends anymore."

Which to me seems like she thought that I might get mad. And that she is already kind of okay with us not being friends.

I had made comments to defend myself on why I made the group chat basically saying I don't know how well they communicate since I have been told of problems in the past from N. Which I think probably made H a little mad and N uncomfortable.

It ends with N just saying again they understand that I'm hurt but they never meant to make me feel as though I was not of value to them. I responded the next day saying that I needed some space from texting and hanging out outside of work but that I would remain civil at work until further notice.

I kind of gave myself an out because I don't really know how much I'm willing to invest in this friendship. And if I'm willing to try and sort through this drama. N's actions aren't really lining up with what she's saying by claiming that she values me when she has made me feel like this before.

I totally understand that H is insecure especially with things being long distance between them but for them to text me like that felt disrespectful to me. Had it come from N it would have been different. It would have been a frI end asking to make this adjustment because they are doing it out of respect for their partner and the health of their relationship. But no this seems to me based on the info I gathered from our convo and previous convos that this was mainly H's idea and that N just went along with it. And it would be another example of H being controlling.

I was and am hurt and feel like I got slapped in the face by this whole situation. I will say that N reassured me that there was nothing on my part that was causing this change. Which I'm gald because I would be disgusted with myself if I had done anything to make her feel uncomfortable.

I've recently come to the conclusion that I may just distance myself and say we can only really talk at work. I don't want to give myself the opportunity to say something I will regret but also the opportunity for me to get hurt like this again.

I would like to hear your guys' thoughts? Was I wrong to respond the way I did to that message? Should I try to repair this friendship or just let it go?

Woof. Sorry that was a lot. If you made it this far, thank you for reading and letting me vent.

[wizardfrog69]

'•.¸♡tulip tree♡¸.•'

Kunikida x reader

Angst-ish/comfort-ish/fluff-ish

Warning! Abuse, threats, physical abuse (hitting someone)

Masterlist

Enjoy!

Fifty-six days had passed since you first joined the armed detective agency, and for fifty-six days, you had been in love with Kunikida. In any normal circumstance, you would confess your love, but unfortunately, you already found yourself in love with someone else. Kunikida knew of your partner. That is why he never even dared to think about you romanticly. Well, at least the tried not to think of you in such ways. It was hard, but he tried nonetheless.

Your friendship grew over time, you would constantly confide in each other, talking about your day, going out for drinks, you would even go as far as telling Kunikida about your partner and how they treated you. Your relationship with your partner was private, and you did not want to talk to anyone about it, fearing of the judgment of others and what your partner would do if they found out.

Kunikida was in his study, writing in his notebook about his day when he heard a knock on the front door. It was raining outside, so Kunikida tried hurrying to the door. When the door opened, the loud sound of rain hitting the concrete outside the building interrupted Kunikida's thoughts. In front of him, you stood there, cold, scared, tired of everything. 'Come in.' Kunikida spoke, and you walked in. It was not the first time you found yourself in Kunikida's house, but this time, it was different. 'What's the matter?' The sound of the rain quiet down, and the sound of your heart began becoming louder and lounder within your chest.

'Is everything okay?' You felt a hand on your shoulder, and you quickly moved away. You were face to face with Kunikida. The only thing you felt like doing was crying. You leaned yourself on Kunikida and began crying. Understandably, Kunikida was confused. He began to rub your back in order to calm you down. You felt Kunikida slowly moving with you to a place where you two could sit.

Once you calmed down, you started saying what was happening. 'I finally broke up with them, but they didn't like that and threatened me, hit me and everything!' You cried. Your partner always treated you poorly, abusing you any chance theu got, hitting you, screaming at, it was a nightmare, you got tired of it all and managed to break up with them, but it was not easy, they shouted at you, telling you how you are worthless and will never be loved, they kicked and hit you, you could do nothing bit cry and eventually manage to run away.

Sometime had passed, and you stayed sitting there, drenched from the rain and tears, and now Kunikida was as well. Kunikida had listened to your every world, patiently sitting there, waiting until you would calm down. Once you stopped crying, he offered you to change your clothes into something more dry.

You both had changed your clothes into something of Kunikida's, Kunikida's clothes hung loosely around you. A cup of tea was placed in front of you. You were sitting at the table holding a newspaper, reading up on the events that happened during the previous days.

Kunikida always respected you and would never do something you were uncomfortable with, wanting you to feel happy and safe around him, so when you came to him sobbing and crying, Kunikida did not know what to do, especially when you ended up wearing his clothes, wanting to cuddle with him throughout the night to feel better. It was nice, laying there, but this was not what his ideals said, yes they say to help any one in need and told help out his friends, but nowhere does it say that he could sleep with his friends, he wants to help you. At the end of the day helping you is all that matters, isn't it?

༺♡༻ 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 ⋆ 𖡼.𖤣𖥧𖡼.𖤣𖥧 𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊 ༺♡༻

Sorry, this is one big mess.

I had an idea going in and it got lost on the way ig cuz wtf is that, it's all over the place and makes no sense.

Have a wonderful day/night and sleep well :)

-love, Az