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Home | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mention of parental death, mentions of abuse

Word Count: 4388

Series Rewrite Masterlist

You sat cross-legged on the floor of the boys’ motel room, sipping a coffee you’d run out to get earlier that morning. Dean was on his computer, and you were responding to the potential cases he’d found.

“A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali—” Dean started.

“Ooh, I like Cali,” you cut him off.

“—Its crew vanished.” He finished.

“And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.”

“Meh, that’s boring. Let somebody else handle that one,” you dismissed.

Dean noticed Sam hadn’t spoken in just about the last hour. He was frantically scribbling on a notepad.

“Hey,” Dean called to his brother. “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.”

He clearly wasn’t.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.”

“Ooh, I like that one,” you said.

Dean leaned over and waved a hand in front of Sam’s face. “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows at his notepad. “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” you asked.

Sam got up from his bed and began rifling through his duffel bag.

“What are you doing?” Dean eyed his brother strangely.

The younger brother pulled out a photo from the bag and held it up next to his drawing. You couldn’t quite see what he was looking at from where you sat.

“Guys, I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean asked.

“Back home. Back to Kansas,” he responded.

The older brother was surprised. “Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

He showed the photo to the two of you. “Alright, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?”

“Yeah…?” Dean still had no idea where he was going with this.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?”

Dean— as well as you— was still lost. “I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but… the people who live in our old house— I think they might be in danger,” Sam rushed out.

“Why would you think that?” you questioned.

“Uh… it’s just, um… look, just trust me on this, okay?” Sam turned away.

“Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?” Dean shook his head and stood to follow him. “Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give us a little bit more than that.”

“I can’t really explain it is all,” Sam shrugged.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do.”

You turned to face Sam as he began to explain. “I have these nightmares.”

You nodded. “We’ve noticed.”

“And sometimes… they come true.”

Dean was stunned. “Come again?”

“Look, Dean… I dreamt about Jessica’s death— for days before it happened,” Sam explained.

“Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” Dean sat back down on the edge of his bed.

“No,” the younger brother protested. “I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

You felt overwhelmed, and so did Dean. “I don’t know.”

Sam sat down across from his brother. “What do you mean you don’t know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!”

“Sam, slow down—” you urged him, knowing Dean was about to go through the roof.

Sure enough, Dean stood and started pacing. “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” you asked.

Dean’s voice broke for the first time since you’d met him. “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?”

Sam’s puppy dog eyes appeared as he spoke softly, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

Dean nodded. “I know we do.”

***

You looked out at the boys’ childhood home and followed them up to the front door.

“You gonna be alright, man?” Sam asked his brother who didn’t respond.

“Jury’s still out on that,” you muttered in response.

Dean knocked on the front door, and a young woman answered. You could see a look of recognition pass over Sam’s face.

“Yes?” the woman said.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—”

One Winchester cut the other off. “I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

The woman seemed surprised and smiled. “Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She turned to you. “Are you a Winchester, too? I didn’t see a little girl in any of the pictures.”

You shook your head. “No, no. Just a friend. (Y/N).”

She smiled at you. “Nice to meet you. Come on in.”

Inside the home, a girl who looked to be around seven sat at the table doing homework, and a little boy who was presumably two jumped in his playpen.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” the toddler called excitedly.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie,” Jenny explained, taking a sippy cup from the fridge and bringing it to her son. “But, hey, at least he won’t get scurvy.” She walked back over to her daughter. “Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). The boys used to live here.”

“Hi,” the shy girl said quietly.

You waved.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, from Wichita.”

“You got family here, or…?”

Jenny’s smile faded. “No. I just, uh… needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job— I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“So, how you likin’ it so far?” Sam questioned.

Jenny laughed awkwardly. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home— I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here—”

You discreetly turned to see Dean smile weakly.

“But this place has its issues,” she finished.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

That caught your attention. “Oh, that’s too bad. What else?”

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”

Dean shook his head. “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

Jenny looked at him quizzically. “It’s just the scratching, actually.”

Sari tugged on her mom’s shirt, who stooped down next to her. “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asked.

“The thing in my closet,” she whispered as if the thing would hear.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny looked up to you and the boys. “Right?”

They shook their heads.

“She had a nightmare the other night,” Jenny explained.

Sari’s voice suddenly got louder. “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom and it was on fire.”

The boys seemed too shocked to speak.

You took over. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’re okay now though, right?”

She nodded.

“See? It didn’t get ya. It was only a dream.”

You knew it wasn’t. A pit filled your stomach after saying your goodbyes to the family and heading out of the door.

“You hear that? A figure on fire,” Sam reminded the two of you.

“And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?” Dean asked.

"Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true,” the older brother chuckled humorlessly.

“Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean responded.

The brothers were only making each other panic worse at this point.

“Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam inquired.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Both of you need to calm down,” you told them, simultaneously getting in the car. “We’re gonna get those people safe. Whatever’s in there is not gonna hurt you or those people.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” Dean remarked.

You snapped into a more intense tone, leaning over the backseat. “Look, dude, you’re gonna get your shit together. The two of you are only ramping each other up. Now, you are going to get a grip or I will do this job on my own.”

Sam and Dean both nodded.

“You’re runnin’ low on gas, Dee.” You patted Dean’s cheek before sitting back against your chair.

***

“We just gotta chill out, that’s all,” Dean said as he pumped gas.

“I’ve tried telling you that eighty times since we left that house.”

He ignored your snide comment. “You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?”

"We’d try to figure out what we were dealin’ with. We’d dig into the history of the house,” Sam sighed.

"Exactly,” the older brother began, “except this time, we already know what happened.”

"Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?”

"About that night, you mean?”

"Yeah.”

Dean paused. “Not much. I remember the fire… the heat. And then I carried you out the front door.”

You looked at the floor, knowing how hard this must be for him to open up.

“You did?” the younger Winchester asked.

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

"No.”

“And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was— was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?”

“If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.”

"Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

You decided to add your two cents. “Yeah. We can talk to your dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Silence blanketed the three of you for a moment, the air feeling heavy.

“Does this feel like just another job to you?” Sam piped up.

‘Of course, it doesn’t,’ you thought.

Dean kept quiet for a moment. “I’ll be right back,” he finally said. “I gotta go to the bathroom.” He walked away, and you watched him turn the corner around the gas station. He looked back for a moment, and you assumed it was to see if anyone had followed him.

You furrowed your brows. You allowed a few minutes to pass before you announced to Sam, “I’m gonna go check on Dean.”

While you turned the corner, you saw Dean exiting the bathroom door. He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. When he noticed you, he tried to shoulder his normal attitude.

“You stalkin’ me?”

“No, actually, I came to check on you.”

“Well, I’m fine.” He went to brush past you.

You grabbed his bicep. “Don’t lie to me.”

He stopped, looking you over. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Then what’s this?” you gently brushed your first finger under his chin, picking up a tear he had forgotten to wipe away. You held it up for him to see.

Dean opened his mouth to say something before snapping it shut again. He gently pulled his arm out of your grip. “C’mon, let’s go.” He started walking away from you.

You caught up to him, asking, “Are you sure you don’t just want me to do this one by myself?”

He nodded sharply.

Sam gave you a curious look while Dean got in the car.

You shook your head before the two of you ducked into the Impala simultaneously.

***

The three of you spoke to a man who had owned a car garage with John years ago. You learned how much John had changed before Mary’s death versus after, and you began to understand why Dean was the way he was. You also learned that he had been going to see a palm reader in town. Dean recognized the names of one of the palm readers Sam had read from a compiled list: Missouri Moseley. The three of you went over to her house and waited in her foyer as she finished with her last client.

She guided the client out of the door. “Alright, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.”

The man thanked her, and she closed the door behind you.

She addressed the three of you. “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.”

You giggled.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asked.

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news,” the woman explained. You stared at her, as did the boys.

“Well? Sam, Dean, (Y/N), come on already, I ain’t got all day.”

You looked at Dean. You knew you hadn’t told her your name. The three of you followed her into the next room.

“Well, lemme look at ya,” she smiled at the boys. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She pointed her finger at Dean. “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.”

You giggled again. You liked her a lot.

“Sam.” Missouri grabbed his hand. “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend. And your father— he’s missin’?”

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asked her.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.”

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean questioned.

Missouri’s smile faded. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?”

“Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please.”

You smirked at Sam and sat down.

Missouri snapped at Dean. “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything!” he responded.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, and you and Sam smiled.

“(Y/N), honey, I didn’t mean to completely disregard you,” she smiled at you. “(Y/L/N)... where do I know that name from?” She pondered for a moment and her smile faded. “I knew your dad. Mean ol’ bastard.”

Your throat clenched. You could feel the boys looking at you, but you kept your eyes on Missouri.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she went on. “I’m just sorry about what he did to you. And your brother? You poor thing.” She tsked.

Tears welled in your eyes.

Sam knew he should change the subject. “Okay. So, our dad— when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say I drew back the curtains for him,” Missouri explained.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean questioned.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.”

“And could you?”

You tried to focus on the conversation, but your throat was still choked up. You could vaguely register them talking about what Missouri sensed in their house and how she had been keeping an eye on the place since Mary’s passing. All you could focus on were the memories you were being pulled back into. Memories of what your father put you through and how your mother just stood by. Memories of defending your brother against your father’s wickedness. You tried your best to pull yourself back to the light; you knew Missouri could hear what you were thinking. You wouldn’t let yourself be weak enough to let your father hurt you eight years after his death.

“Baby, you are not weak.” Missouri’s voice pulled you back to shore. “I’m sorry I brought all that up for you.”

You nodded at her, voice too weak to respond. Sam squeezed your hand, and you could feel Dean’s gaze boring into the side of your head.

***

You and the boys headed back to their childhood home with Missouri. You still couldn’t register what was going on outside of your own head. You knew Missouri hadn’t truly brought anything up for you; these memories were all just buried under the surface for you. Hunting didn’t exactly leave much time for you to dwell on your emotions.

Jenny allowed Missouri to come into her home and showed her and your trio into Sari’s bedroom. You were beginning to come back to earth and could focus on the conversation happening around you.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it,” Missouri explained, walking around Sari’s room.

“Why?” Sam asked.

Missouri turned to him. “This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.”

Dean pulled out his repurposed walkman.

“That an EMF?” Missouri asked.

“Yeah,” Dean answered.

“Amateur,” she deadpanned.

You noticed the EMF was beeping frantically.

“I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom,” Missouri told the Winchesters.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

She nodded.

“How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.”

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Not it.” Missouri opened the closer. “Them. There’s more than one spirit in this place.”

“What are they doing here?” Dean asked.

“They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected,” Missouri elaborated.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It’s attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.”

“You said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.”

Dean’s voice became hard. “Well, one thing’s for damn sure— nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

***

After Missouri taught you how to pack small protection bags that you and the boys were to place in the cardinal points on both floors in Jenny’s house, you had to get Jenny and her kids out of harm's way.

“Look, I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you guys here alone,” she told Missouri.

“Just take your kids to the movies or somethin’, and it’ll be over by the time you get back.”

You could tell the woman was still unsure, but she followed orders anyway. And with that, the four of you got to work.

When you were halfway done with the job, things started to get ugly. Just as you were about to place your second and final bag in the wall of Jenny’s bedroom, a cord snaked around your neck and pulled tightly. You dropped the bag of herbs to the ground; unable to get it into the wall in time. You gasped for air, frantically reaching for the bag but the spirit’s hold was too strong. Your vision began to spot and your face contorted in discomfort; doing the best you could to get air in your lungs. It was no use. Just when you thought it was over, Dean rushed to your side.

“(Y/N)!” he cried, pulling at the cord with all his might.

You clawed at your neck with one hand and motioned to the bag of herbs with the other. Dean understood what you were trying to say, and kicked a hole in the wall. He quickly put the bag inside, and your neck was released. Your head fell to the ground gasping for air.

Dean pulled you into a fierce hug that left you breathless. He pulled back from you, holding your face on either side. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. He gingerly touched the place where the cord had undoubtedly bruised your neck. “Can you stand?”

You nodded again. With Dean’s help, you made your way down to Missouri and Sam who stood in the middle of an extremely messy kitchen. Jenny’s kitchen table had been turned on its side with knives driven through the top of it, assumedly by the ghosts. The refrigerator door was swung wide open, and various items from the pantry had spilled out all over the place.

“You sure this is over?” Sam asked the psychic.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?”

Sam sighed in response. “Never mind. It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opened.

“Hello? We’re home,” Jenny announced when she walked into the house. She came into the kitchen, dumbfounded by the mess. “What happened?”

"Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this,” Sam told her.

“Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess,” Missouri added.

Dean stood glued to his spot.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.”

He glared at Missouri, but began walking away nonetheless.

“And don’t cuss at me!”

***

You remained confused by how Dean had hugged you for the rest of the night which you spent in the Impala parked in front of Jenny’s house.

“Alright, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asked his brother.

“I don’t know. I just… I still have a bad feeling,” he responded.

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.”

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.”

Dean slumped down in his seat. “Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.”

You slumped down in your seat, too, only to see Jenny screaming and banging on her bedroom window. “Guys, look!”

The three of you rushed into the house.

“You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny,” Dean said.

You nodded and sprinted to Ritchie’s room. The sleeping toddler was startled when you woke him up, but allowed you to carry him downstairs nonetheless. You met Sam by the front door who said to Sari, “Take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don’t look back.” She obliged and took the little boy from you.

Before the two of you could do anything else, you were slammed to the ground and dragged backward across the tile floor. You could hear poor Sari screaming as you and Sam were dragged away.

You were pinned to the wall by an invisible force and pushed up toward the ceiling. You could hear presumably Dean hacking away at the door, trying desperately to get in as a figure on fire approached you.

Dean made his way into the home and called your names frantically. He raised his gun at the fire figure when he caught sight of it.

“No, don’t! Don’t!” Sam cried.

“What, why?!” you asked.

“Because I know who it is. I can see her now.”

And then, the fire vanished revealing who you recognized from pictures as Mary Winchester. She was wearing a white nightgown and her blonde hair billowed softly around her. Her feet were bare, and her aging skin was only slightly wrinkled.

You could see tears rising in Dean’s eyes as he lowered his gun. “Mom?”

The woman smiled and stepped closer to him. “Dean.”

She walked toward you and her youngest son. “Sam.” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked.

She looked at him sadly, but said nothing.

The woman turned to you last. “Thank you,” she said.

You smiled back at her, though you weren’t quite sure what she was thanking you for.

She turned away and looked up toward the ceiling. “You get out of my house. And let go of my son.” Her hair and nightgown were swept up into flames once more. The fire licked up to the ceiling, growing larger before disappearing entirely. You and Sam were released from the wall at once.

“Now it’s over,” Sam muttered.

***

The sun had risen while you and the boys were in the house. You called Missouri back to the Winchesters’ childhood home, and she sat on the porch talking with Sam.

You were standing with Dean by the car looking through his old family photos.

“Thanks for these,” Dean told Jenny.

“Don’t thank me, they’re yours.”

Dean put the trunk of photos and family memorabilia in the car. You and Dean bid Jenny, who thanked you, goodbye before leaning against the car together. The two of you knew you had a lot to talk about, but you weren’t brave enough to start the conversation.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked you.

You couldn’t look at him. “Why do you ask?”

“I think you know.”

You paused a moment before turning to face him. “I promise I’ll tell you, just… not today.” You stuck out your pinkie for him to take.

He chuckled at you. “What are we, five?”

“Just do it, asshole,” you smiled back.

He linked his pinkie with yours, shaking your hand back and forth lightly. The two of you stood there for a second, staring at each other and getting lost in the moment. Before long, you both realized what was going on and jerked away from each other.

Dean scratched his head. “Sam, you ready?” he called.

Sam nodded and came over to the car.

“Don’t you kids be strangers,” Missouri told you.

“We won’t,” Dean responded.

“See you around,” the woman winked at you.

You smiled at her before getting in the car and driving away.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @thepocketverse @simpingdeadcharacters @elqsiian @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @doublecrazyyymofo

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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lesbian-dp · 2 years

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Backrub

Kinktober 2022

Day One

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Words: 1,520

Warnings: Massage, voice kink, body worship, size kink, fluff, fingering, slight begging, talks of bathing together

Request: Non.

Summary: After a hard day at work, you are pampered by your beautiful girlfriend.

A/N: First day is here, baby!! There's not much size kink here, but meh, sex! Happy Kinktober 2022!

Ko-Fi

Commissions

(Not my pics)

18+ ONLY

---

You had a bad day.

A very bad day.

You had shot a text over to your loving girlfriend, letting her know just that, as you were on your long commute back home.

Now you weren't dense. And you knew where your complaining would lead to. You were expecting extra lovin', kisses, cuddle, comforting words, and maybe even your choice for takeout that night.

Not this.

The lights were dim as soon as you entered your apartment, a soft glow of lights leading in the direction of your bedroom.

"Babe?" you called out, making your way through the home, following the flickering orange glow. "Honey?"

There was still no answer as you pushed the cracked door to your bedroom open, revealing the room scattered with various lit candles, and yet, no beautiful red-head.

"Natasha?"

That's when you heard the rush of running water, pulling you to the joined bathroom.

A soft gasp tore from you when you found the woman you had fallen in love with, surrounded by more flickering candles, drawing a bat, wearing nothing but a white, fluffy robe.

"Welcome home, Honey."

"What is all this?" you asked with a heart-warming smile.

"Well, you said that you had a bad day, so I decided to spoil you a little," she explained mischievously, her brow ticking, oh so sensually, "First, we're going to share a bath together. Then I'm going to give you and your tense muscles a massage. Then afterwards, I bought all your favourite snacks for us to stuff ourselves with, we can watch whatever you want. And I also bought you that game you've been wanting for a while now."

While your girlfriend spoke and you melted at her loving actions, she drew ever closer until her palms rested against your clothed chest. Softly smiling up at you with her full lips, green eyes warm and affectionate.

"You're too good to me."

"I treat you exactly how you deserve," she stated, wrapping her arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer to her lips, only for her to continue, "Now, let's get in the bath before it gets too cold. Because someone still needs to get pampered before I can dig into those Cool Ranch Doritos."

"Yes, ma'am." You smiled, leaning down, placing a peck against her pillowy lips before beginning to remove your work clothes.

After the warm relaxing bath, Natasha had situated you upon the bed, chin resting over your folded arms at the foot of the bed, waiting as Natasha plucked the massage oils she needed from the bedside table.

You didn't feel the need to wear anything but your underwear, just like Natasha. You would have gone with nothing if she hadn't playfully called you a 'horn ball'.

Just as you let out a relaxed sigh, she had thrown a leg over your hips, sitting down on your backside.

Rubbing her hands together as to warm up the slick liquid, you peered over your shoulder, finding her in her matching pink bra and pantie set that hid practically nothing.

Noticing the smirk on your lips, the red-head rolled her eyes and spoke, "Get your head out of the gutter and face forward."

Silently, you did as told, but not without wiggling your ass beneath her in pretence of getting comfortable.

"Are you ready?"

"And waiting."

You couldn't help the uncontrollable hum that vibrated through your throat as your head hopped down to fully lay against your arms. The soft and smooth movements of Natasha's palms sliding across your shoulder blades and down your back. Thumbs lightly kneaded into your skin when her hands hooked over your shoulders.

Another content noise left you when the pressure shifted as the red-head leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"Bet you're glad you stopped looking at me now, huh?"

"No matter how good this feels, nothing could make me think that."

"Such a charmer," she cooed, pressing a kiss to your cheek before getting back to her task of removing what tension she could.

"Only for you, baby."

Minutes passed, filled with Natasha's soft movements against your skin. Soon the woman grew too worked up to continue without progress.

It took her only moments to reach behind herself and snap her bra undone, sliding it down her arms, and flinging it across the room.

As soon as Natasha's hands returned to your body, she leaned down to speak into your ear again. Breasts grazed your back as her fingers massaged into your shoulders, lips brushing your ear.

Natasha's voice came out husky and sultry, "I think you might need to turn over so I could massage your chest." She finished with a soft, heavy kiss to your neck, her voice and the kiss sending ripples of shivers down your spine.

"And I was the one who had to get my mind out of the gutter."

"Oh, don't act like you don't like it," she husked, leaving a trail of kisses across your upper shoulder blades, and down your spine as her hands slid down to hold your ribs. All the while, her hips canted against your backside, the beginnings of a wet patch seeping into your underwear.

"You know how much I like it." You smirked. "But I thought this was just gonna be a massage."

Another kiss to the side of your neck. "Why do you think I want you to turn around? Can't work on your front if I can't see it," she finished by sucking on your earlobe, pulling it back between her teeth, drawing a groan of pleasure from you before she released the skin with a pop.

You gave a light breathless chuckle, raising up to allow the red-head to turn you over.

Or so she thought.

Natasha had a successful smile on her face, before a yelp sounded from her when you turned, grasped her middle and flipped her to lay below you.

"You know, this isn't what I intended," she smiled up at you, silky hands coming to rest against your chest and upon your bicep. Calf coming up to lay upon the back of your thigh.

"Are you sure about that?" you asked in a lowered voice. Hovering your lips against hers, but never gracing her with a kiss.

"Well, I am supposed to be massaging you."

"But what if I've found something else to relax me?"

A light blush coated her cheeks. A giggle poured from her lips as her eyes looked up and away from you, shaking her head lightly.

"But this day was supposed to be about you," she reasoned with a pout upon her full lips.

"And it still can be. Because it's about what I like too, right?" A nod from the red-head. "Well... this is something I like."

Moving back from where you spoke your words against her lips, you began peppering kisses across her neck.

A soft moan escaped Natasha as she pushed her head back, giving you more space for your lips to make contact, relishing in the way your hand skimmed down her bare torso.

"Please," she muttered in another soft cry.

"'Please' what, baby?"

"Please kiss me."

Natasha could feel the bright grin against her neck. But, lucky for her, you were quick to grant her plea, only leading her into humming pleasurably into your lips.

With the newfound attention you had given her, she didn't notice the way your fingers were playing against the hem of her pink panties. That was until your hand slipped beneath the soft cotton, rubbing circles into her growing bundle of nerves.

Natasha let out a high-pitched moan of surprise, pulling away from your lips with a wet smack, panting heavily into your mouth.

"Oh, my God."

"I've hardly even touched you yet, and you're already this worked up? How fast do you think I'll be able to make you come?"

Another much more prominent cry, as she humped herself into your hand, "Fuck, I love you."

"I love you too, baby." With a wet parting noise, you slipped two of your fingers into the red-head. "You wanna come?"

"Yes." She nodded vigorously.

"Yeah, you wanna come?"

"Yes!"

Your fingers picked up speed, ploughing into her and rubbing against that sensitive, spongy spot within her, sending her head flying backwards in ecstasy. Her wetness spilt around your fingers, soaking a dark mark into her panties.

It was only when you wrapped your lips around one of your girlfriend's pert, pink nipples and sucked. Curling your fingers just right for her whole body to tense, her insides clamping around your fingers, making it hard for you to keep moving them. Crying out to the heavens at the pleasure you had gifted her with.

Panting with her against her neck as she came down from her high, you asked, "Can we eat those snacks now?"

Natasha chuckled breathlessly, "Give me another one of those, and we can."

"How about I suck on your clit 'till you see stars?"

With Natasha's aroused cry and your bright, cocky smile, you knew that the night had much more in store for you and your beautiful, caring girlfriend.

---

Permanent Taglist:

@imnotasuperhero, @veteranwerewolf95, @marvelfansince08love, @higherfurther-romanova, @lesbian-x-blackwidow, @sestra-inestro, @thelastavenger-3000, @mixed-fandom-mess, @wannabe-fic-reader, @vancityfire13, @wouldirunofftheworldsomeday, @007giu, @fayhar, @xxromanoffxx, @poptartpoppyy, @wlwfanfictionss, @diaryoflife, @pointconji, @readings-stuff, @tokyo-liv, @imadethisblogbecauseiamasimp, @natashaownsmyheart, @marrymemcgrath, @scorpiosloveletter, @idkevenfuckenknow, @wandanatfan, @izalesbean, @iblameitonclint, @bizarrealex, @lorsstar1st, @bak3rio, @heybitches-amirightbitches, @lokisjuicyass, @marie-yt-blog, @mrswandaromanoff, @red1culous

#kinktober 2022 #kinktober #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #day one #marvel #MCU

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idunoooman · 1 month

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CREEPYPASTA HCs : ZALGO AND SLENDERMAN (ﾉ´ з `)ノ

Lazari is there too ig

Do not expect me to post every day, consistently, despite me doing it pretty well so far

I do think Slenderman and Zalgo would despise each other, however not on moral grounds, since Slenderman isn’t exactly a good guy all the time either.

Slenderman sees Zalgo as a constant threat due to how powerful he is.

Zalgo also constantly messes with Slenderman’s proxies; by tormenting, manipulating, and killing them.

Zalgo doesn’t hate Slenderman, at least not as much as Slenderman hates him. Slenderman is too weak to pose a threat to him. Zalgo just finds it fun to mess and toy around with him.

The only real threat Slenderman poses to Zalgo is that Slenderman actively tries to weaken Zalgo’s influence to either banish him to the UnderRealm, or kill him.

But at the end of the day, he makes things interesting for Zalgo, he serves as entertainment.

Slenderman’s proxies are also just as interesting and worthwhile to Zalgo. Zalgo thinks they are easy to manipulate and fun torment.

They are easy to convert to his side and make fabulous hosts for Zalgo.

As for Lazari, meh.

I feel the need to mention Lazari since she is one of Zalgo’s (many) children.

I don’t think Zalgo loves Lazari.

If Lazari is not on Zalgo’s side, he couldn’t care less about her.

That was her original purpose after all, to eat monsters, but she failed to follow it.

At first he would try and act fatherly towards Lazari, act sweet and loving, but the moment Zalgo realizes Lazari isn’t buying into his act, Zalgo’s number one priority would be to dispose of Lazari.

Ok maybe not #1 priority, Zalgo has better things to do than kill an estranged teenager, but Zalgo simply cannot have one of his own spawn fighting against him.

That’s embarrassing!

And also potentially dangerous, since Zalgo’s children are (usually) pretty powerful.

Feel free to ask or request HCs. I might post a creepypasta OC one day, but I gotta draw smth for him first.

#creepypasta fandom #creepypasta #creepypastas #creepypasta hcs #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta blog #zalgo #lord zalgo #zalgo headcanons #zalgo creepypasta #zalgoid #lazari creepypasta #lazari swann #slenderverse #slenderman #slenderman headcanons #tumblr fyp #fyp

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thebibutterflyao3 · 2 months

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Day Fourteen - Prompt: Roof @rosekiller-microfic

March Daily Series - 622 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Two hours in, Ted asked for his first break. Evan was impressed that he lasted that long on his first go. Most newbies needed a breather in the first hour. Especially considering Evan started at the base of his spine.

“Go ahead and take a walk, mate,” Evan said, pulling the cloth free from his waistband. He wiped off the area that he’d just finished and patted Ted’s hip. “I have water in the little fridge there, if you need it.”

Ted hopped off the table gingerly and stretched. “Well, that wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

Evan huffed a laugh and shook his head. He gestured toward the mirror near his doorway. “I’m just getting started. Have a look.”

“Oh. Hey, that looks much better in black than purple.”

“Agreed. The purple is temporary ink. It will wash off.”

Ted nodded, then stepped out of the stall and took a lap around the shop. Evan watched his face closely for any sign of pain. Often blokes would play it off in front of him, but then cringed hard when they walked away. Ted appeared to be completely unphased as he wandered the shop.

“Hey mate, that snake is sick!” he said suddenly.

Evan tensed, then forced himself to relax. He tore his gaze away from Frank’s stall and busied himself cleaning up. He ripped off the latex gloves and tossed them in the trash. After downing a cold bottle of water and a packet of biscuits, he flipped through social media idly.

“Mind if I see what you’re getting?” Ted asked eagerly.

“Go on,” Barty answered. “Frank won’t tell me what it is until it’s done.”

Evan tried to ignore them, but curiosity got the best of him. He leaned forward to peer into Frank’s doorway. The head of the table in Frank’s stall was facing the window where the roof sloped low, so Barty wouldn’t see him if he decided to walk by. He flexed his fingers as he listened intently to their conversation.

“You must love roses,” Ted said, tilting his head one way, then the other.

Barty scoffed, “Nah. They’re for someone important.”

Someone important? Fuck you very much, Barty.

Evan rolled his eyes hard. The roses were the only tattoos that Barty ever requested specifically. He’d claimed that they reminded him of Evan, which was ridiculous. All because of that stupid nickname, “Rosie.”

“What about the snakes? Do they mean anything?”

“Nah. I let my artist draw whatever they want most of the time.”

Ted whistled low and long. “You’re brave.”

“Or stupid,” Frank said with a snort.

“Piss off.”

“What does that one say?” Ted asked.

Frank’s chair squeaked as he leaned forward and pulled up the leg of Barty’s athletic shorts. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Barty.”

“Meh, I like it,” Barty said. “It’s funny.”

Evan bit his lip to hide a smile. That was one of his. It had been incredibly satisfying to tattoo “Eat me” in large letters on the back of Barty’s thighs, just below his arse. They’d laughed about it for a solid hour after it was done.

Stop it. Just ignore him.

“What about you?” Frank asked politely.

Ted spun around and showed his back. “Nice, right?”

“Wow. That’s a good one for Rosier. He’s brilliant with overly detailed shite.” Frank fist-bumped Ted, then turned back to Barty’s leg.

“Yeah, he’s great,” Ted agreed.

Barty sighed heavily. “He’s brilliant at everything.”

Evan closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with his hands. He couldn’t just sit here and pretend that it wasn’t killing him that someone else was tattooing Barty. Especially when it was Frank, who didn’t give a fuck and was marking his body with random shite that didn’t fit him.

I can’t do this.

Next Part>>>

#barty crouch jr x evan rosier #evan x barty #barty x evan #barty jr #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #evan rosier #rosekiller #rosekiller microfic #slytherin skittles #marauders era

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naathanuwu · 2 months

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First (finished) concept drawing of my hazbin hotel oc!!!

I have been so busy with school that I couldn’t goof around with his design more :’) If I got the time I’ll definitely redefine him and all

I think my biggest struggle is the colour palette and the outfit is kind of meh

I like the idea behind it but the way I out it together just doesn’t work out :((

As an apology I shall drop some lore:

He died in the 1960s there is a lot that led up to his dead but it ultimately ended with a shot

Back in the days he used to work for Vox’s company, in their marketing department, before leaving to become an artist

To his surprise Vox left behind 1/4 of his money when he died plus a letter

When he died he avoided Vox for over a decade before accidentally stumbling upon him

This will be it for now! I’m keeping most of the big-ish things secret for now, because I wanna do drawings/ comics to some of the important stuff (like his death and relationship with Vox before hell)

#hazbin hotel oc #self insert #vox x oc #vox x reader #vox #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel #original character #silly billy #cow demon #please ask questions #im begging #raaahh #wee wee #and #ka ka

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late-night-talking · 2 years

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Taco Tuesday

a/n: Soooo, this is my first fic post on tumblr, and my first writing since I was a wee teen like 7 years ago, lmao. Be gentle, but I would love feedback on improvements! I hope I captured his accent well, I tried to draw from some popular writers. Hope to be writing more, I love wolfrry so definitely some of that to come! Xoxo- R

word count: 2.6k

summary: stressed Harry comes home, Y/N makes it better with tacos, and a shower ;)

warnings: angsty (kinda, not really?), female masturbation, smut (minors dni)

She was tired. Mostly mentally, dealing with her own demons, but that takes a physical toll as well. Laying across the couch, where she had been the majority of the day, she hears the sound of the garage opening, closing, then the door opening, then closing with a thud.

Y/N watches Harry walk down the hall, craning her neck to get a good look at him. Joggers and a well-loved shirt hang off his body as he kicks his trainers off, his spiraling hair falling in his face, only to be pushed back, in annoyance. Silence still between them, thoughts surging her mind.

“Hi, how was your day?” she asks, meekly, looking over at him with doe eyes.

“Can I get it over with ‘fore I talk ‘bout it.” He doesn’t phrase it as a question, walking into his office with purpose.

She thinks he must have been a hard day at the studio, most of the week had been difficult, him working in his office after the studio, for hours, which wasn’t the norm. But Harry hadn’t been so curt with her, at least giving her an ‘Ello, lovie’ and a peck on her lips before going into the office.

It, of course, made her mind swirl with what she could have done wrong. Last night was fine, him falling asleep with her hand smoothing over his back, after having a slow love making session. And today, even though Y/N’s mind wanted the worst of her, she mustered the energy to do some house work, making it clean and tidy.

She let the seemingly large space between them rest a bit, diverting her own thoughts to her phone, mindlessly scrolling. Finally summoning the energy (and courage) to meander into his office.

The door was cracked slightly, and taking a peek in, she saw his shoulders slumped, elbows on the table top, the golden skin of his arms littered with tattoos flexing a bit , hands mussed in his brunette curls, sitting in front of the mixing console. It wasn’t as large as the ones they had in studio, but he said it did it’s job of reminding him how he wanted certain sounds. In front of him he had his journal and MacBook open, with one of his many guitars leaning on the desk to the right of him.

Without a word, Y/N pushes the door open gently, her legs making enough swishing sounds to let Harry know she was there. He straightened a bit, leaning back in the chair with a sigh. Her hands made their way to his shoulders of their own volition.

Squeezing his shoulders a bit and raking her hands through his hair, had Harry melting, with soft moans falling from his plush lips. Catching Y/N’s wrist, he gently guides her down to his eye level, giving her a peck on her own sumptuous lips, swollen and red-tinged from obliviously biting and mushing them together from her earlier anxiety.

“M’sorry for earlier.” he breathes against her. “Feelin’ like all the studio brings, recently, is stress. Know it’ll pass eventually. Hang in there fo’ meh, yeah, poppet?”

All she can do is hum a contented sigh, muttering, “I know. Wish there was more I could do to help ya.”

“Oh, darlin’, you’re ma muse baby. Couldn’t do any of it without ya.” Harry mumbles with a smirk playing on his lips, so close to hers he can feel her warm breath, making him shiver to his spine. “S’why ‘m stressed, want everything ta be perfect, from the lyrics, to the bass, jus’ like ma girl. Perfect, perfect girl.”

A smile can’t help but spread across Y/N’s face. He thought she was perfect. Not that he didn’t tell her all the time, but some times she needed more reassurance than others. “Sounds like you’re having a time finding all the right pieces, but I know you and the guys will find the perfect sound, you always do. Can you be done for the day? You deserve a break, you’ve worked hard all week. Plus, it’s taco Tuesday, and you know how busy they get later in the night.”

The thought sharing a meal together makes both of them smile, soon heading out the door to get delicious tacos.

- - - - - - -

With their bellies satiated with fresh food from the truck down the street, they tuck in on the couch, Harry grabbing the Xbox controller to settle on his latest game. Letting her food settle a bit, enjoying watching Harry play, Y/N decides to take a quick shower to wash off the humidity from the night.

“I’m going to hop in the shower, lovie” she says, giving a peck on his cheek, earning a hum from him.

“M’kay, petal. Ya know where ta find meh, darlin’.” Harry mutters, focused on his game.

Swaying up the stairs, Y/N turns the shower on, letting the warm water reach the shower head. Throwing her hair up in a high bun, grabbing a towel, and taking off her rings, she has a last minute thought to grab her favorite sex toy. She usually doesn’t feel the need to get herself off, with her sex god of a husband, but she thought to herself, why not.

She pulled the toy out of it’s satin bag, the ‘clit sucker 3000’ Harry likes to call it. She’ll usually just smack his arm a bit before getting it to work. But she’s alone at the moment, so no jokes are made.

Before hoping in the shower for some alone time, she takes a peak at the pictures she has of Harry that turn her on. They’re not inherently sex photos, but the subject of them turns her to jelly.

Some of them are photos she’s personally taken of him when he looks especially yummy. Towels hanging low on Harry’s hips, showing off the V shape his muscles make in between his hips, water droplets dotting his body, hair wet and pushed back. Pictures of Harry in bed from the waist up, taken from the angle on Y/N sitting on him. The morning sunlight flecking over his face and tattooed chest, with a small smile on his lips, eyes closed in contentment.

Some pictures, though, are taken from him on stage. Some from the photographers that he’s chosen to bring on tour, but some from fans. She can’t lie, the fans had good taste, and good angles, getting him from a 360 point of view.

Most recently, her favorite was the pictures of Harry in his denim get up, pants and a vest, bare chest showing off his muscles and tattoos. It made her salivate, thinking back to that evening when he got off stage, Y/N instructed him to leave them on, desperately shoving his pants down enough to pull his already growing erection out of them. She sucked him roughly, and he fucked her back just as feverishly.

She already felt heat going straight to her core just viewing her husband on her phone. She stepped into the steaming shower, letting the hot water wash over her shoulders and back, releasing any tension from the day. Turning the toy on, Y/N put it straight to her center, whirling it around a bit to push her already swollen folds to the side. When it hit the spot the thing was literally made for, her knees almost buckled.

Moving to the tiled bench in the shower, she flung some water on it, trying to warm it up some before sitting down. She reveled in the feelings, warm water splashing on her periodically, toy vibrating on her most sensitive spot, the muscles of her legs and stomach contracting with each wave of pleasure, small moans making it past her lips.

But something was missing. She felt empty, feeling her pussy clenching around nothing, when she knew Harry would be happy to oblige, she cries out his name, half a moan, half a beckoning for him. She knows he may not hear her, his game probably engulfing him.

So she removes the toy from herself, partly stepping out of the shower, drying her hands quickly. She opens her phone to Harrys contact, quickly typing.

“Are you in a game?”, she hopes he isn’t.

“No. Do you want me to quit the queue?” Harry texts back quickly. His mind jumps to the worst, hoping she isn’t hurt or upset.

“Can you come fuck me?” Y/N texts back quickly.

The text bubbles appear, then disappear quickly. She imagines him throwing his phone on the couch, tripping over himself to make it to their bathroom as quickly as possible. It brings a smirk to her face as she gets back in the shower, standing and putting the toy back between her legs.

As quickly as she can get it back on herself, the bathroom door is flinging open. Y/N meets Harry’s eyes, dark with lust. “Ya playin’ with yaself, pet?” He murmurs as he quickly pulls his shirt over his head, pushing his joggers and briefs down in one fell swoop, leaving him naked, save the rings on his fingers that he doesn’t bother taking off. His cock is already stiff, proudly standing, reaching his belly button.

All she can muster is a hum, that sounds more like a moan, “I need your cock, H, please.” She sounds so needy, and he loves it. He loves it so much he has to make her beg for it some more.

He strides into the large tiled shower, pressing the front of his body against her damp one, cold from being out of the shower for a brief moment, goosebumps gracing her chest and arms, her nipples already pulled into tight buds.

“Ya need it even when ya tryin’ ta please ya self, huh?” Harry whispers against the shell of her ear, only to place hot, open mouthed kisses against her neck.

“Please, H. M’ so empty, need you to fill me up.” Y/N all but whines, suddenly gripping his cock firmly, giving it a few pumps, the way she knows he likes.

A groan falls from Harry’s lips, as he allows for his head to lull back a bit. His ringed fingers find their way to Y/N’s core, pushing the toy, she previously had glued to her clit, to the side. She abandons it to the bench, without a second thought, as his fingers glide smoothly against her folds and a gasp escapes her lips.

“Mmhm, so slick for meh already, petal. C’mere, outta the water. Not good lube, ya know.” Harry gently pulls her away from the stream of warm water. He knows if she doesn’t give her what’s she’s asked for, she’ll take it for herself, when would admittedly be unbelievably hot, but he’s just as needy as she is at the moment.

He reaches his tattooed arm towards the crook of her leg, bringing it up close to her chest, leaving her only one foot to balance on. Before she can complain about it, he lines his dripping cock to her folds, soaking his prick in her arousal, bumping against her clit on the swipe up.

Moans fall from both their mouths, and Harry pushes into her dripping hole, soon to be sheathed into her, the perfect tightness gripping him.

“Fuck, H. Just what I needed.” Y/N breathes against his lips, capturing the bottom one in her teeth. Before she can get too unstable on one foot, he wraps his other arm around her waist, gripping her tightly all the way around her back, to her other hip, where his hand clutches so tightly it’ll leave finger shaped bruises.

Harry begins a steady pace, careful not to drill too relentlessly for Y/N to loose her footing. As he bores into her, keeping her steady, moans falling from both of their mouths, as he glides over the spongy spot inside her, passing it and reaching deep with the position they’re in.

“God damn, Y/N, feel s’good round me cock.” Harry mutters, while burying his face in her neck, her sweet natural smell filling his nostrils.

“Harry,” she whines in his ear, “gettin’ wobbly, fuck me from behind.” Y/N whimpers, kissing over his chest.

“Got you baby.” Harry whispers, pulling out, with a whine coming from her. He gently sets her leg down, and moved to the side, giving her a moment to get the feeling back in it, before removing his arm from her waist, up to the middle of her back to push her over.

Y/N eagerly arches her back, using the bench in front of her for stability. Ass in the air, she looks behind her to see Harry, too lost at the beautiful sight in front of him to look at her immediately. When their eyes meet, his are even darker, if possible. The look in her own eyes is all he needs to shroud himself back in her, ringed hands tightly gripping her hips.

He establishes a deliberate pace that has Y/N snapping her hips back to meet his. The only sound in the shower, save the ambient water falling and obscene noises coming from their meeting place, are whimpers falling from her lips, and quick groans falling from his. Unbeknownst to Harry, Y/N has attached the clit sucker 3000 back to it’s home, causing her knees to buckle a bit, moans getting louder and more consistent.

“C’mon pet, let me feel you cum.” Harry bellows to her, with a sharp smack to her ass.

She yelps, grinding her ass back onto him, in the beat of his now relentless pace.

“Shit, H. You fill me up so well. Oh, god. Fuck! I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” She chants, head falling forward, and body relaxing a bit.

“My, god. Takin’ me so well. Wanted meh to fill you up? Damn, baby, bout to fill you up even more.” Harry grunts between thrusts, seconds away from his own release.

“Give it to me Harry, god, I want it.” She encourages.

That’s all he needed to fall over the edge, her name falling past his lips, as he continues to rut into her until he’s too sensitive to continue. He watches as his seed seeps out of her. A sight to behold, he thinks.

He removes himself from her, earning a bit of a hiss from both of them.

“H, feel like I’m in a fish bowl, can’t hear right.” She breathes as she moves to sit on the bench. She looks up at him, eyes still blown with lust, but now hooded doe eyes mixed in, gazing up at him.

A chuckle leaves his chest, his hand coming to rest on her cheek, and she leans into it.

“Filled ya up too much, huh, petal? Got your ears feeling underwater? M’sorry lovie, I’ll give it to you a lil’ less next time yea?” He jokes, knowing that won’t be happening. He watches as a scowl reaches her face.

He leans down to kiss it away, but Y/N’s hand sneaks it’s way around Harry’s neck, keeping him there for a beat longer.

“Need ta wash me dick now.” He chuckles.

Before he can move, she’s reaching for the body wash on the bench next to her, pouring some into her hand. He believes it’s for her, for a moment, until she reaches up and gently applies it to him, starting on his well-groomed pubic hair.

Gingerly, she moves around his cock, softly grasping it, just enough to clean. Then even more lightly, moving to his balls, moving around just to get the suds there.

“Didn’t take you long to get hard earlier.” She smirks to herself, remembering he had a hard on as soon as he waltzed into the bathroom.

“Never long ta get a proper stiffy for you, pet. Got it half way to the stairs, hadn’t even reached them.” He mutters, smoothing over her shoulder.

“Alright, yah cleaned meh up, your turn now, lovie.” Harry guides her by her hand into the water, slowly sudsing her smooth body, loving every crevice and relaxed moan she’ll give him.

fin.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles smut #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #Harry styles fanfic #harry styles writing #Harry styles Drabble #husbandrry #harry styles x reader #my writing

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tamarackbaumann · 11 months

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Descriptions under cut!

Mai Hong Lee:

Mai Hong is anxiety incarnate; they worry over everything and anything. They just want to make a good first impression bc they’ve never had close friends, but more often than not they overthink on what to say and end up missing their chance or talk themselves out of things. Tamarack and Qiu’s insistent and unwavering personalities absolutely obliterate this wall tho.

I made Mai spring themed to emphasize how out of place they are in the autumn setting of Golden Grove. In Vietnamese, “Mai” is means “plum blossom” (to reference the plum color hair they share with their mom) and “Hồng” means “pink/rosy” (to reference their eyes and plum blossoms).

Since Mai is Vietnamese, they call their mom “Mẹ” (pronounced “meh”).

When Mai first met Qiu, they thought they were going to get arrested for trespassing on his backyard. And when they first met Tamarack, they screamed so loudly when she popped out of the leaf pile that Qiu also yelled (mostly bc he was surprised how loud they could scream).

Mai tends to be a literal thinker and quite reasonable for her age. It tends to make her a bit of a wet blanket though (another reason she’s never been popular), so she keeps quiet about how she feels. But she’s also very observant and considerate with a good memory, so she does very well in schoolwork.

On school their first day of new school, when Mrs. Murray called them for roll call, they froze up trying to decide how they should say hello. When Qiu and Tamarack both very publicly spoke up for them, they were frozen again from mortification and embarrassment, but also from being so moved they’d defend her like that.

To help calm her anxiety, Mai’s mom has taught her to describe the things around her in deep detail. Bc of this they’re really good at describing and explaining things to people.

Mai likes to draw, it’s very meditative for them! When they grow up, they would probably become a scientific illustrator, mostly drawing plants.

Mai’s bandaid on their nose from from an incident from her last school! There was a girl who would go out of her way to hang out with Mai, but also talk down to her and make Mai do everything for her. She was like Mai’s personal bully, but also her only friend so they never spoke up or retaliated against her. On Mai’s last day at school, the girl had sneaked a pair of adult scissors from the teacher’s desk to use for a craft the class was doing. The girl and another student got into a fight about her using the scissors, and the girl yanked away the scissors to keep the other student from taking them. Mai, who was standing quietly behind the girl trying to decide what to do, was slashed across the nose on accident. It was a small but deep cut, and Mai started bleeding very quickly. Both of their parents were called down, and Mai thought about how she should probably feel good now that this girl has gotten in big trouble for hurting them. But when the girl’s mother arrived, Mai saw her mom fly into a rage and yell and berate her heavily, and they just couldn’t feel anything but sad for her. The girl said sorry to her and Mai said it was okay, and that was the last time she ever saw or talked to her.

Minverva:

Former friendless kid with a love of learning (especially science) and skateboarding. Once she's older, she ends up becoming a full-on punk. (minerva art by jadesnap, on tumblr!)

+ bonus essay link!

#our life now and forever #our life now & forever #ol:nf #our life: now & forever #ol2 mc fights #ol2

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m-ieleeh · 2 years

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I’ve been disturbed by this illustration for a very long time so I had 3 theories.

So here I present: Mr. Han and his amazing footwork!

Theory 1: Mr. Han have an amazing balance and felt that it was THE moment. The moment to make his balance mastery shine.

Theory 2: Mr. Han couldn’t keep his happiness inside and felt the urge to jump out of joy. Or maybe is he kneeling on a box?

Theory 3: either Mrs. or Mr. Han is too tall/short but considering the people surrounding them, I would rather say it is Mr. Han who’s got an amazingly long shin! (In this case, our Mr. Han’s height is about 1 MC and a half.)

Jokes aside: I just felt so annoyed by the happy endings illustrations. We get to have hot, sexy, steamy and amazing illustrations on bad endings but the happy ones are kinda « meh » and this drawing was one of them. I’m not pretending to be a better artist ofc and I don’t want to offend but these are obvious mistakes that makes me so frustrated…

What do you think about that?

Edit: a lot of people are saying that MC could have been shorter and that could be possible as she is supposed to represent us. But if we see it that way she could also be taller, that’s why I didn’t really give much thoughts on her height and just went along with what was shown of her body on the CG then gave her the proportions I usually use(?/do?). Anyway, this post was made for humor purpose.

#mr.han #mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme rfa #mysme #mysme mc #mysme jumin #jumin han #juminmysticmessenger #han jumin

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skyloftian-nutcase · 10 months

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Blood of the Hero Ch 10 (Link's Parents play BotW)

HA I hopped onto BotW for funsies and to finish studying and I ended up writing a whole whopping chapter while I was there XD I am... half insane at this point, so editing and everything is meh but whatevs!

Summary: The Soul of the Hero will always be there to save Hyrule. But when Calamity Ganon is nearly victorious in killing him, it's those that bear the Blood of the Hero who will prevail. Ten years after the Great Calamity, the Shrine of Resurrection is damaged and Link's parents fight to save their son and Hyrule along with him.

i.e. Link's parents play BotW while protecting their boy and they are ready to take on Ganon himself if they have to.

(AO3 link)

First chapter

<<Previous chapter // Next chapter>>

To Kakariko - The Sheikah Warrior

Abel had to admit his day couldn’t get much more irritating.

Perhaps irritating wasn’t the right word. He wouldn’t call almost murdering a Hylian irritating, nor would he call finding the dead desecrated irritating, nor being launched to the top of a mountain by a stone talus.

Perhaps, then, this next setback was only completely infuriating because of everything else. And now everything was irritating.

The shrines atop these peaks share a connection—their memory the answer to the other’s question. Commit to memory before you start, lest, a failure, you will depart.

Abel stared glumly at the words on the plaque while Til wandered the shrine, scribbling madly to memorize or draw every inch of the place. They’d already known there was another shrine, so it didn’t take much to piece together the meaning. The issue now was that they had to climb yet another mountain and had nothing to show for it, and would then have to double back to this one.

Despite the former knight’s best efforts to stop himself from using the bomb rune to destroy the shrine altogether, his frustration was very evident to his wife, who offered to use the paraglider to travel between the mountains and investigate the other shrine. Abel had flatly refused; Til was not as good a climber as him, after all, and the height difference between the peaks and possible launch points meant she’d have to climb.

Besides, she’d already climbed the tower. It was evident she was as exhausted as he was. Lunch (dinner? He wasn’t sure at this point) hadn’t helped much.

No, Abel had insisted on going instead. The shrine was a safe place to leave his wife and son.

Til walked over slowly, glaring at the slate.

“What’s wrong?” Abel asked.

“It’s this thing,” she said slowly with no elaboration. Abel’s patience was worn thin, but before he could snappily ask, she continued, “It always talks about a travel gate when we activate things. It has to mean something.”

“Don’t they appear as points on the map?” Abel offered, glancing at Link distractedly. The boy hadn’t moved, but he was at least resting comfortably, bundled in several blankets to make a little bed for him.

“Yes, but why call them travel gates?”

“Because they’re notable travel points?” Abel threw out halfheartedly. He didn’t want to get into this, honestly. He already knew what he needed to do.

Til hummed, hovering her finger over the slate. She scrunched her nose, poking the slate, and Abel refrained from rolling his eyes, patience running out.

“Til, for heaven’s sake, just give me the damn thing so I can take Link—”

The rest of his statement was choked off by a yell of surprise as wife started floating and glowing before vanishing into a string of light .

“TIL!” he shouted, looking around frantically. “TILIETH!”

What had—where did she— what the hell just happened ?!

Link sniffled, but it went unnoticed by his frantic father, who started running around the shrine. When he quickly surmised Tilieth wasn’t inside, he rushed outdoors into a pouring rain, wind whipping chilled pellets of water into his eyes. Shielding himself with his hands, he continued to worriedly search, his heart racing. He couldn’t even fathom what had just happened - it had to be some sort of Sheikah trick, right? He’d seen—

His breath caught. He’d seen Yiga disappear in a mixture of light and enchanted paper. Was this the same sort of magic? He already knew that the old man wasn’t Yiga, it was the king for Hylia’s sake—

A whooshing sound emitted behind him, back at the shrine, and he whirled to see blue strings of light coalesce into his wife, safe, sound, and staring with her eyes wide open.

“Oh,” she said quietly.

“Tilieth!” Abel slammed into her, hugging her tightly before pulling her away to look her over. “Are you alright?! What happened?!”

Tilieth blinked a few times, seeming to orient herself, and then she smiled reassuringly, cupping his cheek. “I’m okay, Abel. It was the slate - look!”

Her unease melted away in lieu of eagerness and curiosity as she held the slate in front of him. At his confused expression, she explained, “The travel gates! If you touch a travel gate the slate takes you there! I just went to the tower and then came back here!”

“It… takes you… the slate teleports you?”

“Yes!” Tilieth smiled. “Isn’t that wonderful? We could travel to any of these shrines!”

Despite the information pouring over him in a similar fashion to the rain, Abel found himself finally growing a little warm with hope. That could make their current predicament much easier.

“Give it to me,” he said, holding out his hand. “I can activate the gate on the other shrine.”

“Not in the rain, you’re not! You can’t climb with Link like this,” Til argued, grabbing his wrist. “Let’s get inside, you’re shivering.”

Shivering though he was, he could tell his wife was trembling almost as badly. Once they reentered the shrine, he asked, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Tilieth rubbed her arms in a small hug, chuckling nervously. “I… I am. Just unsettled by that. But I mean, it’s also great!”

Abel watched her uncertainly. “...Can it transport more than one person?”

Both grew silent, and the large, empty shrine hummed ominously as they contemplated the matter. That wasn’t… exactly something they wanted to test out.

“It… should be safe, right?” Tilieth said hesitantly.

Abel didn’t have any reassurance to give, only the fact that he and Link could potentially use it to get back to this shrine once they’d crossed the mountain. The wind that was sucked in between the Dueling Peaks would at least give them a good boost over, but coming back…

Honestly, it was worth a try if it meant he wasn’t paragliding across mountains with an endless fall waiting for him. He wasn’t exactly a fan of heights.

“Did it hurt?” he asked.

“No,” Tilieth immediately answered. “Honey, I told you I’m fine.”

Abel directed his attention towards Link. His wife didn’t appear to be injured, but he didn’t want to exacerbate whatever Link was enduring.

That was also when he realized that Link’s eyelashes were fluttering. He hastened over to his boy, kneeling and shaking him lightly. “Link. Wake up.”

Tilieth went to his other side, hand resting over his forehead. Despite his efforts, though, the teenager stilled, and his parents sighed.

“We have to try it,” Abel finally said. “We’re running out of time, and I don’t want to risk dropping him either.”

Putting the boy back in his harness, Abel slowly rose and went outside. Tilieth gave him a drawing she’d made of the patterns inside the shrine.

“It has to do with the glowing orbs, I’m sure of it,” she said with conviction. “See what you can figure out. I’ll be here, okay?”

Abel nodded, paraglider in his sweaty grip as the wind howled. Taking a deep breath, he decidedly refused to look down, and despite every fiber of his being screaming to not jump where there is no ground , he kicked off from the mountain.

Having started from the very top of the peak, its twin didn’t seem too much taller. However, the combined weight of the former knight and his boy did drag them down a little bit. Abel grunted when he hit the wall, one arm desperately clinging to a stone while the other put the paraglider away. Then he started to climb, and he had to look up and almost mutter a prayer of thanks when the top was just a few reaches away.

This new shrine mirrored the other one, which wasn’t a surprise. Thankfully, with Til’s drawing, the solution became clear quickly. Abel hastily put the orbs where they belonged and snatched up his son in his arms, letting him touch the barrier that encased the monk. When they were teleported outside, the thought of it gave Abel pause. They were constantly being transported as a group - surely the slate could handle what the shrines could do, then?

With Link resting comfortably on his back, Abel looked at the slate, finger hesitantly hovering over the twin shrine. He swallowed and pressed against it.

Immediately, Abel felt a strange lightness to him. His feet left the ground, and he had a strong sense of pulling before the world went white hot and then vanished into darkness for a moment. Then he blinked and in a dizzying realization found himself standing, shakily, in front of the shrine on the other mountain. He gasped for air, having forgotten to breathe, and then anxiously reached up to feel Link still sleeping peacefully on his back.

That… was… not as bad as he expected. And it was far more efficient.

Thank goodness for that .

Entering the shrine, Abel quickly turned over the parchment that Til had given him to show his own drawing to his wife. He smiled as she watched him hopefully. “It worked. And we can solve this one too now.”

Tilieth stole the parchment away before he could get another word in, eagerly moving orbs around. He settled Link on the floor and watched her, giddy with the utmost relief .

It was about damn time something went their way.

Abel was going to rest a little, but he felt amusement mixed with pity swirl inside him as Tilieth started struggling to carry the ball by the third column. He stepped over to assist her, and she quietly handed the heavy stone over to him, looking a little guilty.

“It’s all right,” he appeased her.

“You’ve been carrying Link all day,” Tilieth sighed. “I wanted to do something for you.”

“You figured out the shrines,” Abel assured her as he placed the last three stones. “That’s more important than anything. Besides, you climbed the tower - you have reason to be tired.”

As his words echoed in the chamber, the entranceway to the monk’s chamber opened with a hiss, and the couple smiled at each other.

By this point they had managed to find three spirit orbs since departing the plateau. That was nearly as many as what was on the plateau itself. After four shrines Link had stopped bleeding and had even awoken briefly to ingest something. Surely if they could find one more, they’d have similar luck. At least, that was the hope.

Hope. Hope . Goddess above, Abel felt a sense of hope . He huffed a little as he watched Tilieth finger comb Link’s hair while they planned their descent down the mountain. Although he’d known the shrine was meant to heal Link, hope was never quite a word he’d thought about or felt since the Calamity.

It probably won’t last , a bitter voice muttered in the back of his mind.

He looked away from his family. No… perhaps it wouldn’t. But for now he wouldn’t fight it. It almost felt real. Besides, he had to focus on the objective, anyway. Arguing about how his emotions were involved wasn’t going to solve their current predicament.

Abel took a step forward, and the slate chirped.

The couple glanced at the object curiously. Was it the sensor again? Did it detect another shrine? Abel’s earlier frustration with the object had lessened considerably, but he was still hesitant to try and follow its signal. Tilieth seemed equally uncertain, as she opted for looking around for physical clues rather than just grabbing the slate and using it as a compass.

His wife gasped in delight as she looked over the edge. “Abel! There’s another shrine along the main path!”

Along the main path ? Glancing in the same area, looking straight down and feeling his stomach twist a little at the height, he saw an orange glow.

Honestly, at this point, he wasn’t sure if he should be pleased that they found the easily accessible one last or exasperated that it was just their luck. Either way, a shrine was a shrine. “Well… that makes things less complicated. It looks like it’s on a trail going down the mountain.”

So they wouldn’t have to climb or jump. Thank the goddess.

The pair moved quickly, saddling up and stepping with haste. The next shrine came into view, and upon entering, the new puzzle quickly became apparent.

“The switches control the platforms,” Tilieth muttered as she stepped on one and watched a flat platform slant so that a ball could roll into an awaiting receptacle. “I suppose the slate was correct in saying timing is critical.”

“These are children’s puzzles, Til,” Abel commented dryly. “Let’s go.”

And children’s puzzles they were. The first was laughably simple and easy, and thank goodness for that. They deserved the break. He again found himself wondering how these were designed to strengthen the Hero in preparation for the Calamity. Timing in battle was important, of course, but regular combat training could teach that far better than this game of switches and balls.

Abel’s mouth twisted downward in mild annoyance as the second puzzle sent the ball flying against a wall and down into the bottomless pit.

“Oh, yes, so very easy,” Tilieth giggled. “Maybe let me do this.”

“I’ve got it,” Abel quipped mildly, slightly annoyed as another ball fell from the ceiling to replace the one he’d lost. He quickly got the second ball in its place, hopping onto the lift to get to the last one. The ball slid into place perfectly with one attempt, and the pair let the lift take them to the final platform. Tilieth’s gaze immediately drifted to a treasure chest that was just out of view, and Abel grabbed her gently but firmly by the hand. “Come on, Til, we don’t have time for treasure hunting. Nearly got someone killed with that.”

Tilieth didn’t argue, reasonably in agreement with him, though she still looked a little disappointed. Abel found it a little endearing - his wife’s excitement for discovery was one of her traits that had attracted him in the first place. But by heaven, if it wasn’t a fault when they had an actual mission to complete.

“You know,” Tilieth said thoughtfully. “We actually haven’t gotten any the chests from any of the last three shrines. Why don’t you rest with Link and I’ll see if—”

“Til,” Abel interrupted with a halfhearted glare.

“I’m serious!” Tilieth argued. “It could have important items! Like the sword I found you.”

“Or all the amber you’ve found?” Abel fired back.

“You need to rest anyway,” Tilieth pointed out. “ I’m the one doing the searching. And now I have a way to travel easily between shrines.”

Abel was going to argue further, but his wife pleading look practically screamed let me have this , and he gave in with a heavy sigh.

It wasn’t like anything inside the shrines had been dangerous this time.

“Fine,” he finally said, admitting defeat.

When the pair was transported outside, Abel returned into the shrine while Tilieth eagerly started messing with the slate. He slid to the floor, placing Link on his lap and leaning against the wall tiredly. It was getting dark - he hoped she wouldn’t take too long.

Abel’s gaze drifted down to his son. The burn on his neck was light pink like freshly healed skin. It had been deeper this morning. He smiled at the improvement, but it would definitely scar.

He still couldn’t believe it had even managed to heal as much as it had. Then again, it had been ten years. How long would it have taken that shrine to finish healing if a decade’s work was what the body could accomplish in a few weeks? Abel knew the boy had been far too injured for proper healing, but…

Abel took one step blindly. Then another. He couldn't take his eyes off the boy, he couldn't get words to form. He reached out, his hand trembling, eyes wide with horror, screams caged in his chest, dying with what was left of his heart.

The still fingers. The still feet. The still body. The paleness, the redness, the black and blue and–

Abel couldn't breathe.

Abel snapped out of the memory, his body rigid from experiencing it anew, shaking his head to rid the images from his mind. Goddess. It had been years since he’d thought about that night.

“Why can’t you just wake up, little knight,” he pleaded quietly, brushing some hair out of the boy’s face.

What he would give to see the boy’s blue eyes again. What he would give to see his boy smile, or frown, or pout, or bear that stony expression that had carved his features for the last few years before everything fell apart. He’d take anything, he’d give anything, just to see him again.

The hum of the lift caught his attention instead, and he saw Tilieth rushing forward with a satisfied smile, light blonde hair disheveled. He raised an eyebrow at her appearance. “Everything… all right?”

“Found some weapons for you,” she said triumphantly, showing him a serpentine spear. “Off to get the chest here.”

Abel shrugged as she ran by, leaving the weapon beside him. She bested the puzzles even faster than he had, knowing what to expect. He lost sight of her, but the anxiety from watching her take off across chasms had started to fade. She had managed so far, after all… and to be honest he was fairly certain his mind was growing numb from exhaustion.

He felt frustrated at that, bringing forth some life in him once more. He couldn’t afford to be too tired to care. He had to protect his family. Before he could properly chastise himself and stand, though, Tilieth was back, presenting him with a new gift.

Abel stared at it. “A bandana?”

“Not just any bandana,” Tilieth said as if she were announcing the star of a play. “The slate said it’s called the climber’s bandana, and it’s enhanced with technology to give you core strength and help you climb more easily.”

Abel’s expression grew deadpan. “A technological bandana that makes me magically stronger.”

“Oh, just try it on!”

He sighed heavily, taking the garment. “I’m going to look like a Lurelin fisherman in this, or worse, a pirate.”

“It might look fetching on you!”

Honestly, it was once again not worth arguing. At least his wife’s fetch quests were over. “We should keep moving. The stable isn’t far from here, and we can rest there for the night.”

Tilieth’s bright expression faded. “...Abel… the stable was destroyed in the Calamity.”

The words settled in his mind like a stone sinking to the bottom of a lake. Years of memories spent resting on the last leg of his journey home, or giving the children a break from riding before they set out on a long trip, flashed before his eyes and were burned away in guardian fire. Abel swallowed. “Of course it was. Was there anything left? We could salvage something, at least.”

Tilieth hugged herself, looking away. Abel wanted to kick himself for even asking. She wanted to speak of the Calamity even less than he did. To placate and distract her, he put the bandana on. “How do I look?”

Tilieth giggled, brushing some hair aside that had fallen into his eyes, trapped in place by the cloth. “Like a dashing knight.”

“You always say that,” Abel huffed with a smile, nuzzling her nose. “How dark is it outside?”

“The sun’s already set.”

Abel chewed his lip, debating the matter. It would be better to cover more ground, but if the stable was completely destroyed, they'd have no cover for the beasts of the night.

Tilieth fidgeted. “The slate… did seem to pick up another shrine, though. In the direction of the stable and…”

And the fort.

Abel suddenly felt his blood freeze. He shook it off, though. “Well if there are more shrines, best get them in while we can. Kakariko will be close enough that we can get to it by the end of tomorrow if we just get to the stable.”

Tilieth hesitantly agreed. The couple headed out once more. Tilieth took the paraglider from her husband and hopped off the ledge, giving him anxiety as he called out to her. When he looked down at the main path on the ground, Tilieth was smiling up at him.

“It isn’t that far of a fall,” she reassured him. “And when it’s just me it’s very easy to glide! Oh, I wish I’d had one of these sooner.”

So you could give me a heart attack sooner? Memories of Link and their daughter, Lyra, pitching themselves off the freshly made stable roof to jump into the little pond by their home passed in his mind. He honestly wasn’t sure how he hadn’t gotten grey hair before the Calamity with the way his family was.

Shaking his head, he opted to climb down rather than follow the slope, as it would reunite them faster. As he did so, he found himself moving more expediently, Link somehow feeling a little lighter. Concerned, he looked at his son, but from his vantage he could see nothing different. When he reached the bottom he made a motion to pull the harness off and look his son over, when Tilieth clapped in delight. “The bandana does help!”

Abel blinked. Was that it?

Good grief. A magical bandana. He shouldn’t be surprised at this point.

A bokoblin horde stood between them and the end of the Dueling Peaks trail, and Abel dispatched them quickly. They had conveniently left a fire just out of sight, allowing him to send a flaming arrow towards some explosive barrels they were harvesting. Nature took care of the rest.

When they rounded the corner of the mountainside, Abel didn’t know what he was going to see, nor did he know what he’d expected. But the old stable was… certainly not in its better days. The giant horse head that usually decorated the tent was long gone, traces of wood all that remained, splintered across the field. The fabric of the tent was mostly torn and rotted, though some of the bare bones of the stable remained. In fact…

Were those people around there?

Abel remembered the traveler’s words from the morning, how some had taken to attacking others to get the resources they needed, and he grew tense.

“Abel, look! There’s another tower! And the shrine’s right here!”

Tilieth tapped him incessantly, pulling him towards a small pond that the children had loved to play in whenever they’d stopped at the stable. Had that shrine always been there? Abel felt like he would have remembered if it had.

Well. They hadn’t started excavating Sheikah technology when the kids were little. But how could this have hidden so easily?

And why in the world did it have a barricade around it?

The movement in his peripheral vision settled, and Abel turned sharply to realize that he’d lost track of the people who had been by the stable. His heart started racing, and he quickly started to unstrap the harness that held Link. “Watch him. I have to make sure those people don’t get near us.”

“People? What people?” Tilieth asked, looking around wildly as she bent down to brace Link against herself.

“We need to find a way in the shrine,” Abel advised, drawing his blade. “It’ll be safe there.”

He really regretted suggesting they move forward. He’d just wanted to save them some time. Impa supposedly had answers for them, after all, and they could only play this game for so long if Link didn’t wake up once more.

Abel felt something get snatched off his head, and he turned to see Tilieth tying the bandana behind her ears. “What are you…?”

“You focus on the threats, I’ll focus on the shrine,” she said quietly, taking the harness from him as well. “I’ll get him inside, don’t worry.”

Nodding, he turned to face the stable once more, but there was still no movement. Where had those people gone? Had they not noticed the couple?

When he turned to make sure he knew Tilieth’s position, he saw her climbing the mountainside with Link on her back. He hissed her name to get her attention - she didn’t need to be exposed for the entire world to see like that–

Tilieth pushed off from the stone, pulling out the paraglider and floating over the wooden stakes that guarded from the shrine, landing heavily at the building’s doorstep. Huffing, she collapsed onto her hands and knees and gave Abel a weak smile with a thumb’s up.

Abel sighed, equal parts exasperated and proud. He saw his wife enter the shrine with their boy, and his chest tightened in worry once more. He hoped whatever puzzle awaited them wasn’t too serious.

After a few minutes, the former knight quickly started to surmise that the lack of movement was likely because whoever was by the stable had gone to sleep. It seemed… awfully trusting of them. Surely, they had to have someone on watch. He wasn’t going to find out.

Taking an uneasy guardpost by the wooden stakes, Abel sheathed his sword, keeping his senses alert.

When someone did emerge from the stable, he narrowed his eyes, hackles raised, until he quickly realized that it was a child .

The little girl in question couldn’t have been more than eight or nine–Lyra’s age when the Calamity took her, his mind whispered. She had dark brown hair and wore clothes that were strikingly similar to styles Lyra had worn.

Those were Hateno clothes.

The child snuck over quickly to Abel’s area, eyes fixed on the shrine. Abel slowly and quietly crept behind the structure so she wouldn’t see him, crouching to hide just below the barricade. The girl picked up some pebbles and threw them into the water.

“Uma!” someone hissed, barely audible over the waterfall crashing behind him. “Get inside, it isn’t safe!”

“But I’m making a wish on the shrine!” Uma argued. “Kelnick said–”

“Uma, come inside, now . That shrine is dangerous, we put a barrier there for a reason!”

Said barrier suddenly burst into flames, magically burning away despite the water it was sitting in. Abel leapt back, alarmed, and the little girl screamed.

And then Tilieth emerged, looking satisfied with herself. Her expression immediately grew panicked when she saw the child and her mother, who were both looking at her in terror.

Abel stepped forward, sheathing his blade and holding his hands out. “We’re not here to cause trouble. Go back to the stable with your daughter.”

“You—the building!” the mother pointed at the shrine. Her eyes traced beyond the shrine and Tilieth, however, and settled on Link, and she let out a gasp. “Is he okay?”

Abel grew tense, but he tried not to become too defensive. The woman was clearly not a threat, and he refused to make the same mistake, even if he didn’t trust her.

“He’s…” Tilieth looked hesitantly at Abel. Neither had really planned on explaining anything of Link’s situation to anyone aside from Impa. After all, the king had spoken of attacks from Ganon, a thought that sent a chill shuddering down Abel’s spine. He had absolutely no intention of making Link any more vulnerable than he was.

“He’s ill,” Abel said succinctly. “Caught something earlier in the day. We’re letting him rest. He’ll be fine.”

“Oh, but you–you should sleep somewhere where there’s shelter, in case there’s rain,” the mother insisted. “We’ve been trying to rebuild the stable, there’s some space for people to sleep now. You should come inside, there are a handful of us.”

“We’re fine,” Abel said warily.

“Please,” the woman continued, pulling her child to her. “I… I know people are scared of strangers these days. But… my father used to run this stable, and I want to be able to make it a place of safety again. I promise nobody will hurt you. My husband has even been practicing fighting! He’s gotten pretty good at fending off ‘blins with a farming pitchfork.”

Tilieth’s hesitancy started to fade, and the look in her eyes spoke more of we should help them than they’re going to hurt Link .

Abel sighed. Tilieth wasn’t wrong in the change of the situation. If the only defense the stable had was a half trained farmer, they weren’t very safe. But he couldn’t exactly lend his aid - he had to take care of Link.

“We need a place to stay the night anyway,” Tilieth whispered.

Abel opened his mouth to argue and found no words coming out. He couldn’t justify abandoning these people when they were in such a false sense of security. But one night’s protection wasn’t going to save them, either. Nevertheless, he relented, though it didn’t drain him of all the tension. Just because this woman was trustworthy didn’t mean her guests were.

He wasn’t sleeping tonight.

“Very well,” he agreed reluctantly.

As Abel followed the mother into the dilapidated remains of the stable, he clenched his jaw tightly to stave off the emotions wreaking havoc inside of him. Little Lyra ran across his vision, giggling in delight as she chased a butterfly. Little Link pointed to all the horses and gave them names and tried to climb into the pen with all the animals. He shook his head, and his children’s ghosts vanished. He had to focus.

Inside, the beds were all broken or burnt husks, but pillows and blankets had been stacked on the side that still had some canvas covering the half broken tent frame. There were four other people inside. The husband was obvious, wearing a blend of Hateno traditional attire with a stablekeep’s hat, while–

Oh. It was those siblings again.

Thankfully, both were fast asleep. That left one more guest, who immediately made Abel feel a strange sense of both unease and relief.

It was a Sheikah warrior.

Her attire, skin tight and dark, denoted her style of fighting. Her hair was pulled up in a tight topknot, and her face was mostly covered in a black cloth, leaving only hazel eyes, which were watching him intensely. A spear rested loosely on her lap.

Tilieth smiled at her. “You’re a Sheikah, right?”

Abel really wished his wife wasn’t so friendly sometimes. He knew he should be happy to see another Sheikah, but he couldn’t shake the paranoia that had started to creep up his spine ever since leaving the plateau. It had been too long since he’d dealt with other people, it seemed. At least the mother was defenseless, the child harmless. A warrior was a threat, no matter where they were from these days.

He definitely wasn’t sleeping tonight.

The woman nodded mutely, her eyes drifting elsewhere, and Abel realized they were resting decidedly on Link.

They widened.

Abel’s hand slowly reached for his sword, and the warrior rose abruptly, turning away too quickly for him to react and start a fight. Without a single word, the warrior went outside.

The new stablewoman called after the warrior, a little more quietly so as not to disturb the others, and her husband watched with mild concern before turning his attention to them.

“It’s good to see other travelers out here,” he said softly. “Nice to see people venturing out again, you know? I hope you know you’re safe here. I keep watch at night while my wife runs things during the day. That way people are always safe. That’s our first priority.”

Abel stared outside, having lost sight of the Sheikah warrior, and the stablewoman returned, chewing her lip, clearly upset.

“Did she leave?” the stableman asked.

His wife nodded. “I hope we didn’t upset her or anything.”

“Who was she?” Abel asked, eyes narrowing.

“We don’t know,” the woman answered. “We don’t ask those kinds of questions. It isn’t our business, and we don’t really have enough of a business yet to have a ledger.”

Abel sighed and turned his attention to Tilieth. “I don’t think he’s waking up today, Til. Just try to get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

“Keep watch?” Tilieth repeated quietly as the pair chose a corner to settle in. “Honey, you need to sleep.”

The former knight shook his head. “This isn’t a shrine. It isn’t as safe. And honestly, as we unlock them, they’re going to attract attention and visitors.”

Which meant the shrines weren’t safe either once they were unlocked. At least not from people - it seemed monsters couldn’t breach them. Given the stablewoman’s fright over them, though, it was possible people would steer clear of them anyway.

Abel sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. This was getting increasingly more complicated. The sooner they got to Kakariko the better. Maybe he could feel safe there. Maybe they would be safe there.

Tilieth settled into an uneasy sleep, Link at her side, and Abel watched them rest.

“You can sleep too, you know,” the stableman piped in encouragingly with a smile. “I’ve got watch.”

Abel stared at the man, his gaze apparently intense enough to make the stablehand shrivel a little under his scrutiny. The man was certainly harmless enough, but Abel didn’t really deem him capable of protecting his family. He wouldn’t leave that in a farmer’s hands, whether he’d fought bokoblins off or not.

Rising, Abel decided to go for a patrol of the stable. His body fought him with every step, clashing priorities in his mind.

You should stay with them. Don’t let them out of your sight.

The farmer will keep watch of them. I’ll hear if something breaks out. I’ll see threats better if I’m outside rather than waiting for them to arrive.

You don’t want to see the fort. You don’t.

He really didn’t.

Fort Hateno had been a beacon of hope when the Calamity had struck. He’d sent his son there to regroup.

He’d promised Link he’d meet him there. Instead he found him in the woods, carried by two Sheikah warriors.

The world spun nauseatingly, and Abel leaned against a fractured wooden frame.

He didn’t have to see the fort. He didn’t need to see it. It was too dark to make out at this distance, anyway. He just needed to make sure nobody attacked the stable.

And it was a good thing too, because there was, in fact, a monster horde making camp nearby. He could see their distorted faces in the flames, though the bokoblins were settling in to sleep for the night. Gritting his teeth, he crept towards their lair, drawing his sword.

A horn blared. Abel looked up and saw a bokoblin on top of a husk of a guardian, blending into the darkness, and he swore.

There weren’t many enemies, honestly. Nine bokoblins was hardly a challenge. But it was the largest horde he’d seen so far, and his fights were far easier when he had armor, a sturdy shield, and hadn’t been running and climbing and carrying his son and being battered and bruised by a talus and a flying tree.

He really was getting too old for this.

Still. He’d killed far more than nine beasts at a time before the Calamity. This would be no different.

Abel snarled as the first bokoblin approached, and he slipped into the battle easily. With each bokoblin slain, he felt a little more like his old self, energized by the rush of adrenaline, the aches of the day burning away.

Nine was a little much when he didn’t have armor, though.

One bokoblin managed to scrape a hit, knocking the wind out of Abel as club met bone, and he rolled to get away from them, cornering himself against a stony wall. He rose quickly, but there were three beasts in front of him now, and his shield wasn’t in the shape it used to be. He saw it dent quickly under one blow, and after he felled two of the three, more took their place. He pushed his foot against the wall behind him, closing the distance as one of the ‘blins created an opening, and an arrow whizzed by his ear, making his veins fill with ice.

Where was the archer? Was it the same beast that had sounded the alarm? He couldn’t defend from the sky as well as the ground.

The bright full moon shifted, a silhouette cutting into its clear white hue, and he saw a bokoblin take aim. He readied his shield but had to parry another attack instead, and after shoving the remaining bokoblins away and creating some space, he looked up to see the bokoblin skewered on a spear, a thin feminine frame behind it.

Abel didn’t have time to consider the matter. He dispatched the last few bokoblins quickly and took a breath, feeling his ribs protest. He clenched his jaw to stifle a groan.

The Sheikah warrior from earlier easily landed beside him, settling her spear on a harness on her back. “You alright?”

“I’ve been worse,” Abel answered truthfully. This didn’t quite feel like a broken rib. Probably just bruised. But at least there would be no monster camp by the stable now. Belatedly, he tacked on, “Thanks for getting rid of the archer.”

The warrior gave a short nod in acknowledgement. She continued to look him over.

“I said I was fine,” Abel reiterated, growing tense under her gaze. He tried to shift the attention off himself. “Who are you, anyway?”

The warrior watched a moment longer and then looked away, debating something. Then she turned away from him. “My name is Sheik.”

With that, the warrior climbed the wall and leapt into a tree, disappearing. Abel watched her for a while longer and then finally gave up. Wherever she was going, he wouldn’t be able to follow anyway.

Sighing, he returned to the stable, slowly lowering himself to the ground to sit beside his sleeping family.

Just one more day. One more day and they’d be at Kakariko.

#abel at 4am: we could've just teleported back to our own damn house wth #at least they weren't tortured the entire chapter this time around lol #bless them #Til is spiraling between worry for her baby and being like EXPLORATION :D #Abel is just perpetually tired and growing steadily more Over It #I still crack up that a bandana has 'technology that builds your core strength'#please give me this bandana Sheikah #I'll look cool AND finally have some strength to lift patients #please I beg #I bet Abel DOES look good with it though #Til certainly thinks so #Link's just snoozing away but I promise the spirit orbs are helping him LOL #little baby needs another heart container probably #new character! :D #I should probably go to bed now XD #writing #blood of the hero #breath of the wild #loz au #abel #tilieth #breath of the wild link #botw link #world building life a decade after the calamity is kind of fun :D #oh right I said I was going to bed good night #AND ANOTHER THING--*gets dragged away by blorbos*

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soap-lady · 9 months

Text

Meh.

Here’s chapter 25 of Worthy Opponent. I know it’s the last day of the month but I’m not feeling it. I appreciate anyone and everyone still reading this when you could be reading something better.

@fantasiame, @g-arya, @lavenderjunes, @charlietheepic7, @ahenix, @delectablycoolscientist, @kaseykay17, @vio-march-0327, @mewwitch, @vixen-uchiha, @coolspidermanmusicflower, @lady-bee-fechin, @raeuberprinzessin, @symwinter, @frieddonutsweets, @seraphkitty, @friendsofthefairies, @nickristus-dreamer, @khneltea, @jumpingjoy82, @fan-written, @woe-is-me0,@corporeal-terrestrial, @queenmjean, @theymakeupfairies, @dorkus-minimus,

Worthy Opponent Chapter Twenty-five

After taking the chance to refresh her makeup, Chloe returned to the fitting rooms and looked at an alert on her phone. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Marinette barely looked up from something she was drawing.

Chloe huffed and waited for a few seconds before talking to Allegra. The other blonde didn’t seem to notice her.

Marinette finally looked up and asked Chloe, “Have you seen Felix or Luka? I wanted to get them in for a fitting.”

“They’re not coming,” after letting Allegra and Marinette protest and ask why she held up her phone. “They’re probably getting ready to shoot some scenes. Just like you two are supposed to be.”

Allegra and Marinette gaped at the alert on Chloe’s phone, then stared at each other.

Marinette turned pale. “Oh my God! I lost track of time! I do that when I design.”

“Then what’s my excuse?!” Allegra squeaked and they hurriedly put the designing supplies away before scrambling for the set.

Chloe took a few pictures, enjoying the look of panic on Marinette’s face. Sure, she was becoming a better person but she couldn’t help a little mean gladness.

“It’s not professional to be late for work, Dupain-Cheng,” she called out as the two other girls raced past her without answering.

So, she was still a little bit of a bitch. Too bad.

*****

Seabert trod through the familiar tunnel down to Jayden’s hidden computer lab. It was small and cramped, no doubt dug long ago at the time of the original Founders, a good place to hide wealth stolen from the corrupt or refugees fleeing the Reign of Terror. In the Twentieth Century he was sure it was a bomb shelter or a haven for members of the Society fleeing the Nazis or later, Communism.

Jayden must be part mole, because he’d claimed one of the smaller chambers for his own and turned it into his very own mad science lab. Oh, sure, Jay came up for classes and to eat, sleep and bathe but he probably spent every moment he could down here, in the labyrinthian tunnels no doubt designed to confuse anyone not familiar with them. All of them aside from Jack knew how to get in and out; the secret was to look for the tiny little spades marking the correct path.

Seabert found the lab and didn’t bother knocking to get his friend’s attention. Instead he just opened the door and sat down on the overstuffed sofa dragged down here and covered in quilts by some past Spade. Jayden would notice him when he was ready.

It took over twenty minutes but Seabert was patient and brought his phone to entertain himself. Mobiles wouldn’t usually get a signal this far underground but Jayden was brilliant and this lab was special. Jayden tried to explain exactly how he’d done it but Seabert didn’t speak Tech and his eyes glazed over after three minutes and his friend had given up. It was enough that Jay understood…and didn’t use his amazing abilities to take over the world. Or at the very least, he’d rule with benevolence.

Jayden swiveled in his chair and looked over at Seabert. “Hey.” His eyes darted all over his friend’s face and frowned a little. “I missed breakfast again, didn’t I?”

Seabert nodded. “And an assembly.”

“Damn,” Jayden muttered under his breath. He leaned back in his chair, careful not to hit the keyboard. “Am I in trouble? I didn’t even hear the PA.”

Seabert tilted his head. “Did you have your headphones on?”

Jayden smiled, looking a little sheepish. Man, he really was cute but he was also aromantic and asexual and therefore off-limits. Plus he had Elinor and she was amazing. Still, he couldn’t help looking, even if he would never touch.

Jayden didn’t notice the way his friend was staring at him, or if he did he pretended not to. “I might have. I hate earbuds. I’ve lost three sets.”

“Headmaster Doyle didn’t say anything. It’s entirely possible he didn’t notice you weren’t there.”

“Again,” Jayden’s tone was calm and not bitter but Seabert could see how the skin around his eyes tightened with a touch of resentment.

“Or…he was just preoccupied. Then again!” Seabert pointed dramatically at Jayden as he made his point. “Maybe since he saw Barry, Jack and Felicity there he just figured we’d let you know what was going on. Or-”

Jayden took a big breath then let it out slowly. “Hey, Bertie. You don’t have to cheer me up. I know my worth as a person has nothing to do with my heritage.” He crossed his legs at the knee and leaned forward. “I know there are people who think my family doesn’t deserve to be ‘Founders’ because we’re too new. Or too…you know…” He tapped his cheek.

“Handsome? Charming? Sexy in tight pants?” Seabert offered.

Jayden chuckled. “Sure. I’ll go with that.” He smiled then frowned. “I’m sure people thought they were being progressive in the Forties by having my family join your little club. Hope they didn’t hurt themselves with that back pat.” He huffed. “Diversity.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself or your family short.” There was no way in Hell Seabert would allow his friend to diminish his or his family’s contributions to crime fighting. “The Society needed new blood, new methods of crime solving. Someone not afraid of getting their hands dirty and didn’t wait around for someone to tell them how to do their job.”

“Someone they could push the shit jobs they didn’t want to do onto. The less than glamorous gruntwork.” Jayden glared then sighed. “Sorry. I’m just-” Jayden rubbed his eyes. “Too much isolation down here. I’ve been digging up all the dirt I can but someone’s blocking me. It’s frustrating.”

“You don’t have to apologize when you’ve done nothing wrong.” Seabert stood up and inched his way closer to his friend and sat in the extra desk chair. “You deserve to have the same level of recognition as Holmes, Watson or Dupin.”

“So do you,” Jayden offered a fist and Seabert bumped it gently. “To be honest, sometimes being overlooked has its advantages, even if you know you deserve to be on that podium as much, if not more than anyone else.”

They looked at each other, smiling in comfortable silence before Seabert realized why he was down there. “Oh. Right. So they decided to have the Founders’ Ball this year, even with Professor Akuin’s death.”

Jayden nodded. “I bet Felicity or Barry talked Doyle into it.”

Seabert grinned. “Believe it or not. It was Felicity and Jack, with an assist from Adler.”

Jayden raised his eyebrows and leaned forward. “That’s unexpected.” He thought quietly, lips thinning as he did so. He sat back and stretched. “This would be a great opportunity to flush the killer out.”

Seabert nodded

Jayden snorted. “Or for a killer or gang of killers to sneak in and kill our barmy arses.”

Seabert nodded again.

Jayden put his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his chin on his palm. He was looking at Seabert but Seabert could tell his friend was already analyzing the situation and as many possible outcomes as he could. “I’m guessing Barry has a plan.”

Seabert shrugged. “Kind of? It’s a bare bones plan and it’s mostly Felicity’s. Here’s what she’s thought up so far.”

*****

Barry and Jack walked together to the Headmaster’s office. Neither boy talked to each other and it was obvious from the way they walked at least three feet from each other that neither wanted to.

Jack reached the door a fraction of a second before Barry could and banged his knuckles on it. Holmes sighed and glared but said nothing as Watson waited exactly five seconds and yanked the door open.

“Yes, come in-” Headmaster Doyle began to say but then broke off and frowned as the heir to John Watson opened his door and strode in, followed closely by a disgruntled looking Holmes. The blond boy gave the man a slightly apologetic look before pulling the door closed behind them.

Doyle gave Jack a disapproving stare over his glasses. “Young master, as much as I understand that you spent eight years in the American school system, I shall have to insist on manners here.”

Barry opened his mouth to apologize and explain. Watson lacked the guidance any other Spade could count on. He was estranged from his father’s family and therefore from them. He just needed a bit of extra help and understanding.

Jack spoke before he could. “Right. Gotcha. I was in a hurry because I have to shop for a fancy outfit and I don’t know shit about shops around here or if I should try an online retailer instead.” He met the headmaster’s glare with insubordinate indifference. “Also, please don’t call me ‘master’. I know you’re just trying to be polite because of who my family is,” Jack didn’t roll his eyes or seem overly sarcastic, “but that word is pretty closely tied to slavery in the US and I’d rather avoid the connotation.”

Doyle raised his brows and Watson smiled. He knew people around school saw him as a barely civilized and uneducated barbarian. He enjoyed proving them wrong.

Holmes sat across from the headmaster and hoped Watson would do the same. Jack sat with perfect unexaggerated manners and looked across the desk at the headmaster.

Barry cleared his throat. “You sent for us?”

The headmaster shuffled some papers on his desk. He was either trying to look composed and important or buying time while he thought up what to say. This Americanized Watson was difficult for Doyle to wrap his head around, just like everyone but Felicity. In all the years Barry had known the man he was rarely flustered or at a loss for words. Or unsure how to deal with someone or a situation. Professor Akunin’s death might have affected the man more than anyone knew. Holmes filed the information away for later.

Doyle pretended to straighten the same stack of papers three times. The man should consider scanning his important data and going paperless as much as possible. Unless the stacks were some sort of the older generation’s idea of a fidget spinner.

“Right then.” He looked the two boys over and smiled a bit, no doubt picturing their fathers as they had been at the same age. “Thanks to yours and our lovely Dupin and Adler’s efforts, the Founders’ Ball will go ahead as planned.” The man looked mildly annoyed about it. “Hmph. Democracy. As a consequence of your actions, as the leaders of our founding families, you’re all expected to escort someone and lead the first dance.”

“Except for Jayden,” Jack surprised them by correcting, “it wouldn’t be fair to expect someone who’s asexual and aromantic to bring a date and dance just because it’s a tradition.”

As much as Barry wanted to tell Jack it wasn’t his place to chastise the headmaster, it warmed him a bit how Jack was making an effort to ensure Jayden’s orientation was respected. It was also a clever way to divert attention away from him as well, but no one needed to know that.

“Of course. Young Master…Mister Spade’s life choices shall be respected.” Doyle didn’t give away what he thought personally. If the Spade line needed to be continued there was always in vitro. “But while I can comfortably assume Seabert and Elinor will attend together, the question remains…who are the sons of our most famous families bringing?”

Jack wanted to correct him and add Felicity. None of them would be here, perhaps not exist, without C. Auguste Dupin, the man for whom the word “detective” had to be invented. He didn’t. He knew he was already stepping over the invisible line created to separate “us” from them but this elitist bullshit pissed him off. His mom took him to the US to avoid the political crap these old white guys loved. Still, for their plan to work, they couldn’t draw too much attention to themselves, especially him. He’d given Doyle shit because he knew the man was expecting him to. Despite what the jackass sitting next to him might think, he knew when to quit.

Doyle looked from Jack to Barry and smiled like someone who knew he was about to win. “Well, allow me to help you. Considering continuing the ball was partly her idea and her history with the Holmes family…”

Felicity. He was going to say Barry should go with Felicity. They had the longest rivalry, even if Holmes had been the more famous detective. The rest of the school plus anyone they invited would enjoy watching them trade insults and deliberately step on each other’s feet on the dance floor. It would be a grand spectacle and definitely draw everyone’s attention away from what the Spades wanted to do that night. Jack understood…but he didn’t like it.

Him and Felicity? He enjoyed the idea more than he probably should. He told himself the slight thrill he felt was from imagining the look on her face when he gave her his mandatory invite. Damn she’d be so angry. It would be fun to watch. He should probably have some dress shoes made with steel toes. Still it would be worth a broken toe if it meant annoying Felicity when she couldn’t do anything to him. Oh, and the dancing might be fun.

“Barrington should ask Miss Adler. Before someone else does. I’ve noticed she and Mister Marlowe seem to get along.”

Oh, that clever old bastard. People had been speculating that the original Irene Adler had been the so-called love of Sherlock’s life since the original Watson had published their adventures. Well, those who didn’t think Watson was in love with Holmes and Mary Morstan was their beard. Barry figured it would serve the same purpose as him taking Dupin; people would be too busy putting on their shipping goggles to notice anything else. It didn’t seem as enjoyable as spending an evening with Dupin, no one could create a witty dig like her.

Doyle and Jack looked at him like they were expecting him to argue but Barry just nodded. “Of course, sir. I’m sure everyone’s expecting it. I’ll go ask Irene some time this afternoon.”

The man just smiled his approval while Watson had to stop himself from looking surprised or laughing his ass off. “Good. Cool. Hope you guys have fun. I’m gonna see if Filly wants to go with me.” Without asking for dismissal he stood up and left. “Later.”

Barry didn’t look at Headmaster Doyle for almost a minute. “Sir…”

“Quite all right, Barrington.” Doyle dismissed Jack’s behavior with a wave of his hand. “There’s a part of me that enjoys his cheekiness. Reminds me of both of your fathers.” He grinned. “Don’t tell him I said so. He thinks he is getting away with something. I’d hate to disappoint him.”

Holmes’ eyes widened for a moment then he returned Doyle’s grin. No, he wouldn’t tell him. He enjoyed the idea of knowing something the little smartarse didn’t. “Never, Sir.”

*****

Marlowe not-so subtly nudged his classmate. “Why are you taking so damn long? Just ask her.”

Nick nudged him back, not hard but strong enough to make Marlowe slightly lose his balance. “Shut up, Al.”

Marlowe rolled his eyes. “If you keep dragging your ass someone else might beat you to it. Or, she might think you’re not interested and go alone.”

Nick took a step forward as he thought of Aubrey going with someone else. He frowned and then took a step back.

The huge boy’s shoulders slumped and he sighed, looking depressed.

Marlowe groaned. Nick Charles IV was a nice guy but tripped up over the stupidest, yet simplest shit. This whole asking a girl out thing should be straight forward. He knew who he wanted to ask and what he wanted to say. It was easy. “What now?!” he asked before he could stop himself.

Nick looked down at him and immediately felt like an arsehole. Yes, logically, asking someone out should have been simple. Emotionally it was a minefield of trying to read someone’s body language and seeing if they look interested. There was also asking publicly and risking humiliation versus asking privately and risking creeping them out if they weren’t interested.

Nick’s big gray eyes looked worried and a little sad. “Aubrey’s wonderful. She’s smart, pretty and the sweetest girl I know. Everyone likes her and wants to work with her. And I’m…” he waved a hand in front of himself. “...me.”

Alfonso shrugged. “Yeah? You’re the great-grandson of Nick and Nora Charles, known for being good at solving murders and being witty and looking good while doing it.”

Nick’s face went from sad to snarky. “Yeah. I know. And I didn’t inherit any of Grandpa Nick’s wit or Grandmother Nora’s charm. I’m pretty good at forensics and crime scene investigation, but that’s it.”

Ah, yeah. So was Aubrey. They had that in common. “So you and Mlle. Locard will have something to talk about while you’re on the dance floor. That’s great!” He grinned up at Nick but the boy didn’t seem cheered up. His lips tightened and his eyes just looked sad. Sure, Nick looked intimidating and could throw a small boulder at someone but that was just on the surface. He was also smart and perceptive, not to mention shy and awkward. Most people didn’t take the time to see the gentle soul inside. He was one. Alfonso was sure Aubrey was another.

“My dude, as Watson would say” he reached up and squeezed Nick’s shoulder. “You’re awesome. You always find little pieces of evidence most people miss. You’re fun to be around to anyone who knows you and, although you’re not my type, you’re pretty cute.” Nick blushed. “I bet Aubrey would like to go but she’s almost as shy as you are.”

Nick finally smiled, the tiny gesture lighting up his face and Marlowe could see a little bit of his famous great-grandparents. Alfonso wondered for the thousandth time why his friend couldn’t see what an incredible person he was. “Okay. I’ll give it a try.” He smiled again at his friend. “Thanks for persuading me. I would kick myself if I didn’t at least try. You’re pretty cool, you know?”

Alfonso’s eyes widened a bit. Most people overlooked him in favor of Watson, Spade, or even Dupin. He resented it but felt warm when Nick thanked him. It felt good to be appreciated. “Yeah, well. We live in the same dorm. I don’t really want to watch you mope and listen to bad emo music for the next month for not trying.”

Nick laughed and turned towards the Forensics Department. He started down the hall and then stopped to look at Alfonso. “Oh, you have to come with me, Al.”

Marlowe nodded. “I was planning to.”

“Oh, yeah,” Nick paused again. “And if she says no, you have to dance the first dance with me.”

Alfonso laughed all the way down the hall.

*****

The walk to the Criminal Investigations lab took twice as long as it should have because Nick kept pausing to talk to classmates or jokingly ask Al if he could just text Aubrey and move to Spain if she said no. Marlowe laughed but gently and firmly urged the larger boy along.

The gods of awkward teenage boys must have been smiling on them today because the lab was empty except for Aubrey and one of the janitorial staff. She was washing out the last of her beakers when she noticed the two of them awkwardly waiting outside for her. She smiled at Nick, making him flush again. She gave Marlowe a little wave, looking a little confused to see him.

The lab door slid open and Aubrey shrugged out of her lab coat and threw it into a laundry bin as she left. “Nick! Al! Good to see you. You don’t usually hang out with us Diamonds, Al. What’s good?”

“Well, we can’t all be super brains like you, Aubs,” Marlowe teased with her childhood nickname. “Dumb-dumbs like me should know their place. I’m just a bloodhound sniffing for clues. You guys are the ones who figure out what they mean.”

Aubrey smiled up at him, her honeyed eyes amused but kind. “Bullshit.” She smiled at Nick and Alfonso thought she looked happy to see his friend. “What can I do for you? Any luck finding trace fingerprints in the catacombs?”

Nick was just about to start talking about the new laser the school was letting them use when Al cut him off. “Nope. Nothing case related. Nick here had a question for you. I’m just here for moral support and to gracefully back away to give you a little privacy.”

“But not so far that Nick can’t yell for help if he needs it.” She smiled up at Nick as Alfonso took the cue to walk away. “You had something you wanted to ask me?”

Nick’s eyes darted around in a panic but Marlowe made his way to just around the corner and out of sight. He fidgeted as Aubrey stared up at him with an expectant look on her face.

She was just so cute, with her big eyes and cute little nose. She reminded him of an adorable little mouse but there was nothing timid about her. Aubrey had a sharp mind and was sassy enough to stand up to Holmes and get her way. Really, he was lucky to have classes with her.

He could tell she was getting a little impatient and tried to fill the silence. “I hear Professor Hui is developing a new solution that will slow down the degradation of physical biological evidence by forty percent.”

Aubrey honey eyes glowed. “Yes! She’s planning on writing a paper and presenting it to a scientific forum at the end of the school year.”

“That will really extend how long blood and tissue samples can be analyzed,” Nick grinned. Professor Hui was brilliant and should really be teaching at a university level. “Not only does something like that have crime investigating applications but medical research too.”

“I know, right?” She beamed up at him and Nick nearly tripped on his own tongue. She was so damn cute and he almost turned around and left before he could ask her to the ball. He was terrified she’d say no so he was stalling until he could think of the perfect way to invite her.

He stood and let her talk about the reagents their professor had discovered and was developing. Nick suggested Hui should patent her idea and get paid for it. Aubrey agreed but worried if she did so it might make the process too expensive for smaller police departments to use. He made the counterargument Hui should be paid for her time and she probably used her own money in the project. They finally agreed their professor could help solve crimes and get compensation as long as she was reasonable. Aubrey was sure she would be.

The conversation faded away and Aubrey stood there staring at him. He tried not to fidget as she looked into his face but without anyone to nudge him on he was starting to lose his resolve.

“So…the ball…might be…” he broke off as he forgot what he had wanted to say.

Aubrey wondered if Nick was aware how incredibly good looking he was. He was even adorable when he was nervous and unsure. She enjoyed talking to him about class but he rarely wanted to talk about anything else. There was that one time last year she tried to talk to him about his favorite music and he’d nearly knocked her off her feet with his enthusiasm. He raved about the “raw emotion” of death metal until he realized he was screaming lyrics from his favorite song and she’d all but run away from him. He never tried to talk about anything too personal besides favorite foods since.

What was he trying to ask her? Was this…?

With her luck he was asking advice on what to wear or maybe he was in charge of the music and wanted her input.

“...so…since attendance is mandatory or something…”

Aubrey tuned back into the conversation and blinked up at him. “Um, what?”

Nick faltered again, stuttering. “Um…what I’m trying to say…” he swallowed hard. “You. Me. The ball. Together?”

She didn’t answer for nearly a minute and he was sure he’d screwed up. She probably had a date. She was probably trying to think of a way to turn him down gently and would never speak to him again outside of class.

He turned away. He didn’t want to see her face as she rejected him.

“And just where do you think you’re going?”

Nick looked back at her. The soft gentle look on her face was gone and her usual sharp gaze was back. “What?”

“You heard me.” She tilted her head up and looked into his eyes. He loved her confidence; it was incredibly attractive. “You can’t just drop a bomb on me like that and walk away. Don’t you want an answer?”

“Yes!” His smile was eager and he waited to hear her say yes.

He waited.

And waited.

Finally when he thought she was going to reject him she grinned and his breath caught in his throat. “Yes.”

“Wait, really?” He was sure he misheard her.

She shrugged. “Yes. Hey, now I don’t have to ask you” She jumped up and planted a kiss on his surprised face. “Text me later so we can coordinate outfits, okay?”

Nick was too stunned to do much more than nod. “Okay.” He wondered if proposing to her if the ball went well was too much.

“It’s about friggin’ time!”

The two started when they heard Marlowe’s voice yelling at them, then his hurried footsteps as he ran away.”

Nick didn’t want to laugh at his friend but Aubrey had no problem. “And thank Alfonso for me.”

“Ok.”

*****

If anyone had insinuated Barrington Sherringford Holmes was nervous about asking a girl out, he would have either laughed in their faces or pointedly ignored them. The possibility of him voluntarily asking for a date was near zero; he was either avoided by the opposite sex or regularly propositioned by them. He knew it was mostly because he was a Holmes and they wanted the power and money they thought came with his family.

Then again, this wasn’t voluntary. This was a job he’d been given by the Headmaster himself. He knew what was expected of him and would do it. The whole world knew, or thought they knew about the history between Sherlock Holmes and The Woman. Holmes’ supposed lost love sold magazines and inspired rubbish fanfiction but had no basis in fact. That didn’t stop people from assuming history would repeat itself if the detective and his only female antagonist’s descendants met each other. He had an uneasy feeling this was Doyle’s plan all along; the Holmes’ line had to continue and Adler’s many-great granddaughter was nearly as clever and attractive as her predecessor.

He’d rather not think about bloodlines and succession. He was sixteen and had no interest in romance and only a passing curiosity about sex. After all, in vitro was an option.

Barry took a breath and thought about smiling for a moment but decided to go with his usual default expression. He idly wondered if Watson had asked out Felicity yet and told himself he didn’t care. He rapped his knuckles against Adler’s door and stepped back a bit to wait for her to answer.

He couldn’t hear any movement through the door. All of the dorms were equipped with heavy fire resistant doors designed to look like wood. Good for protection but bad if anyone wanted to make sure someone was inside.

Fortunately the Legacy students’ dorm rooms also had intercoms. Adler’s buzzed to life and he heard her voice. “Who is it?” she called sweetly.

Coy. Really? He hated when people acted coy. Playing hard to get was idiotic and he didn’t want to take any more time than was strictly necessary to ask Irene to the ball. He had a murder to solve.

He sighed. “Unless your video monitor isn’t working you know exactly who this is.”

The knob turned and the door opened with a click. “I do,” Irene smiled up at him as she pushed the door open a little wider. “But needling you is delightful. I can see why Felicity does it so much.” She laughed at his expression.”Come on, Holmes. Be a human like the rest of us.”

“I’ve never been human. I’m a robot. Ask anyone.” He gave her the thinnest curl of a smile and cleared his throat. “Well, Adler…”

“Irene,” she corrected. “My name is Irene.”

“Right.” He cleared his throat again. “Well, the Founders’ Ball is coming up, thanks in part to your efforts, so Headmaster Doyle suggested that I…”

Barry watched as her face went from curious and expectant to completely blank. She sighed, rolled her eyes and the turned around and went back into her room, shutting the door in his face.

He blinked several times. He was sure he looked like a slack-jawed git on her door monitor and was lucky no one was in the hallway while he made an arse out of himself.

He took a deep breath. He was a Holmes and therefore had to keep trying. He rang her bell again.

“Yes, Holmes?”

“Could you please open the door?”

“That depends,” she called back, “are you going to sound less like you’re being forced to go to the dentist?”

“I might.”

The door swung open again. “I suppose that’ll have to do.” Irene smirked at him.

Barry sighed. “You know why I’m here.”

She nodded.

His shoulders slumped ever so slightly. “You know what I’m going to ask.”

She nodded again and gave him a little smile.

Barry huffed, stared up at the ceiling as if asking for divine intervention and then back at her. “Then, why are you making this difficult for me?”

Irene looked at him then shook her head. “Do I really have to explain myself to you?” When he nodded she put her hand on her hip. “Yes, logically I know Headmaster Doyle is making you ask me and it would make me look good to appear in public with you. People are probably expecting it, at least the people who aren’t expecting you to take Felicity.” Her smile grew a little wistful. “But is it wrong of me to want to be asked for my own sake and not because it’ll make us look good?”

He forgot to feel irritated and looked down at her. Her expression was tolerant and patient but her eyes looked a bit sad. She smiled when she saw he understood. “You’re not the only one who knows what it’s like to live under family expectations.”

Barry nodded and sighed. “I haven’t been very fair to you, have I? Aside from our first meeting in the library and speaking in class now and then we haven’t really talked, have we?”

Irene shook her head. “No. Believe it or not, I understand. I don’t enjoy feeling like I’m being pushed together with someone I don’t know either.”

He looked her over, taking in her expression and body language. “You don’t like the idea that you were invited here as a possible bride for me and not your own merits.”

Adler smirked but there was a hint of fire in her eyes. “I’m not a brood mare or an accessory to make one of the Founders’ families look better. I have my own life and my own agenda. You don’t have to be part of either.”

Holmes thought about what she said and then smiled. He felt his respect for her rising. “Agreed. I know the continuation of the family line,” he rolled his eyes and she laughed, “is important but I’m tired of people telling me I have to decide marriage and children before I can legally drink.”

“You want to live your life and make the decisions that affect it yourself,” she sounded a little bitter and he understood.

“Just like you.” He smiled. “So perhaps we can go to the ball and have the first dance together and then decide what, if anything, we want to be to each other from there?”

Irene smiled and for a second Barry could see what his ancestor might have seen in hers. Well, besides a very clever brain. “Let’s.”

She held out her hand and he shook it, then brought her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Enchante, mademoiselle. Shall I pick you up or should we just meet at the ballroom?”

Adler laughed and pretended to swoon. “Just meet me in the ballroom. After all, it’s not a real date.”

Barry couldn’t help but laugh. She was a bit more charming than he’d thought. “Eh, I’d argue but it’s true.”

*****

Well, shit.

Judging by the way Holmes and Irene were laughing together he’d successfully asked her to the Founders’ Ball. He knew all along Doyle was trying to arrange a match between two famous bloodlines but it still stung, especially since he’d hoped she’d throw over Holmes for him.

He wondered if Adler was playing along or had decided it was better to go for money and fame over integrity.. Well, whatever. This might have altered his plans but it didn’t completely derail them.

He just had a bit more incentive to watch Holmes go down.

*****

“Cut!” Amelie called out. “Wonderful as always, Felix darling! Lila, I enjoyed your improv immensely. Gio, your interaction with Ivan was perfect! A dear, supportive friend in public.”

“And yet, a jealous, bitter rival in the shadows,” Gio gave Lila a villainous leer, making her laugh. He turned and offered a fist to Felix. “We haven’t gotten a lot of screen time together on this production. Too bad.”

Felix hesitated then gave his fist the barest of taps. Gio didn’t seem offended. “The last Graham Film production you worked on, you played the best friend who set up Allegra and Claude’s characters. Now you’re the understudy to the main villain. Do you like this role better?”

“Villainous roles are usually meatier, more complex.” Gio grinned. “But what I like about your father’s scripts is that the heroes are flawed and have depth without being angsty. Villains might have sympathetic motivations and backstories but are still villains. And fun,” he shot Lila a flirty wink.

“There’s also characters like Adler, who don’t seem to define themselves by what side they’re on,” Lila gushed, no longer needing to fake enthusiasm for her part. “Irene is on her own side but that doesn’t mean she’s a bad guy. It’s possible she might join the good guys and help them solve the murder or defeat the villainous conspiracy. It’s still such a mystery.”

Lila was becoming caught up in the mystery of the script despite herself. At first she was irritated that she didn’t receive more of the script ahead of time. She had wanted to be a spy for M. Agreste but now she wanted to know what happened to the characters, especially hers. She had to admit it was brilliant on the part of Graham Films; not only did their methods of script control prevent leaks it made their performances more authentic because they didn’t know what was going on any more than the audience did.

“I’m pleased to hear you’re enjoying your acting experience with us, dear,” Amelie’s smile was warm and sincere but she felt the tiniest smidge of guilt when she thought of what was in store for the young actress. She hadn’t understood why her son had insisted on allowing the girl to be hired in light of her behavior towards Allen but considering how much the girl’s acting had improved, she began to think her son was right all along and Miss Rossi might have had some genuine talent to be developed.

Felix thought he’d feel the familiar twinge of pain when someone brought up his father’s script but he was surprised he didn’t when Gio mentioned him. He felt…pride. Happy that someone recognized his father’s brilliance. He was beginning to be able to talk about or discuss his father’s work without pain. That was progress.

Amelie realized everyone was standing around gawking and clapped her hands. “Now now! No time to dawdle, my darlings! We must set up the next scene! Jeremy, Sebastian, make sure Felicity’s dorm room set is ready in thirty minutes.” She began to flounce around the soundstage, dismissing the actors from the previous scene with a wave of her hand. “Sherenne, light readings, please. Pierre, I want this set scrubbed and rebuilt into the microbiology lab. Jibril…”

Felix grinned and shrugged at everyone as if to say, “Eh, it’s my mom. What can you do?” before walking off set and towards his dressing room.

Gio slung an arm over her shoulder. “Great job with a short scene.”

Lila tossed her hair back. She waited for the familiar resentment at being dismissed by Felix but it didn’t come. Huh. She was becoming a real actress. No, a star.

“Thank you,” they laughed together and wandered off in search of the craft table.

*****

Well. This isn’t nerve-wracking at all.

Felix paced, waiting for Luka and Marinette to appear on set so he could direct their big “would you like to go to the ball with me?” scene. Then he forced himself to stop pacing. This was not different than any other scene he’d directed them in. Sure they now shared a tentative “friendship” but they were also all professionals, him most of all. They only had to do their jobs.

Still, he could admit it to himself, he wanted them to like him. More than that, he wanted them to continue to interact with him after the movie was completed. As colleagues of course.

Oh, sod it, as friends. He wanted them to be his friends, even if they never made another film with him. It was different from his “friendship” with Claude, Allen, and Allegra; these were friends he’d made on his own.

Well, it wasn’t completely selfish, he thought he, Luka and Marinette played off of each other very well. He appreciated how adaptable they were; laid-back Couffaine became surprisingly intense. Dupain-Cheng had no problem becoming the rival who goaded him into succeeding, then melding into a staunch ally, all within a blink. He enjoyed watching her process.

He’d little to no expectations for either of them but they surprised him on a daily basis. Even if she’d remained in the Costume Department Marinette would have been a treasure but she was the most perfect Dupin he could have asked for.

Then there was Luka. He clearly had show business in his veins; it was there in the way he carried himself, the ease with which he learned the part. He was believable, his American accent spot-on. Jack Watson’s smoldering resentment poured from him effortlessly.

So, why this sudden case of nerves?

Clearly, he was worried he might not be a good enough director for them.

Clearly.

*****

Felix was so busy fidgeting in his director’s chair he didn’t realize he was no longer alone until he felt a warm hand on his arm. “Hope I didn’t keep you waiting.”

He started and forced himself not to leap away. “Very funny, Couffaine. Now let go of me and take your mark.”

Luka didn’t take offense at his show of dominance, just laughed and stepped away. “Marinette is on her way. The button of her uniform jacket came loose and she’s fixing it.”

Felix huffed then watched the lighting crew over Luka’s shoulder. They checked and rechecked their equipment and nothing went unattended, especially not unsecure rigging that hadn’t been completely installed. They’d taken his “accident” personally.

“We have people to do that for her now,” he told Luka. “She’s a star.”

The other smiled, a secret smile that made Felix bristle because it reminded him they shared a history he knew little about. “She’s Marinette.” Luka winked at Felix and loped off to take his place on set.

“Sorry I’m late!”

Felix heard the scrambling of feet, then a whoosh and suddenly another body nearly collided with his, grabbing the back of his chair and a shoulder to catch themselves.

He froze. His first instinct was to push her away but then he felt her breath in his ear.

“Sorry!” she panted in his ear. “Loose button! Sewed it myself! Am I on time?”

He gently pulled away from her to check his watch. “You’re five minutes early. Go take your mark.”

“Thanks!” She surprised him by giving his shoulders a brief squeeze. “I’ll be ready!”

Felix resisted the urge to not rub the sensation of her breath off his ear and watched her take her place on set, giving Luka a huge smile as she walked past him.

He took two deep breaths to calm himself. He had to be in control. He was the director. He was a leader. TIme to get to work.

“Action!”

*****

Jack was trying to give himself a pep talk. This stupid ball didn’t matter, it was just a way of luring in whoever had killed the professor and getting evidence against them. It was bait and a smokescreen all in one. It didn’t matter who Felicity danced with and whether or not she turned him down.

Jack was a lying asshole, especially to himself.

Sure, he didn’t have to compete with Holmes for a date. He felt a little bad for Adler, but he was sure she could handle Barry and would probably be insulted or amused by his pity. Truth be told, he wanted to ask Felicity out. Just as friends.

He was a shit liar.

Felicity Dupin was smart, funny, and classy without looking down on anyone. She was fiery, kind, and resourceful.

Really, how the hell could he not fall for her?

That didn’t matter if she didn’t feel anything for him beyond friendship. He could live with that, as long as she didn’t push him aside for Barry.

No, that wasn’t fair. Once he stopped being a rich snob he was actually okay, just needed to get out of his own ass. He just wished the guy wouldn’t be so pushy and insistent they had to be “best friends” because of who their ancestors were.

That attitude had ruined his parents’ marriage.

Jack blinked and shook his head. He didn’t want to think of either of them right now. Or the Holmes family. Time to focus on Felicity

He took a deep breath then hesitated. He didn’t have a lot of experience with dating and at the risk of sounding vain, rarely had to ask girls out.Girls either asked him out directly or asked their friends or brothers to do it. He hadn’t asked out a girl since he was eleven. Rhoda DeHart. She’d said no.

Well, he’d better hurry before someone saw him hanging around Filly’s door and either reported him or filmed him making an ass out of himself. He breathed out and then knocked on the door.

The speaker buzzed awake. “Hey, Jack.”

She didn’t sound annoyed. That was good, right? “Hey, Filly. Can I come in? I need to ask you something.”

There was a pause and then she said, “Can’t you just ask me in the hall?”

She sounded amused and he knew she knew exactly why he was there. “I’d rather have a sliver of dignity in my life. Please?”

The door cracked open and a hand grabbed him and pulled him inside.

Jack gave a slightly undignified yelp as she closed the door behind him. He looked around. “Nice dorm.”

“Thanks,” she locked the door and led him further in. “I share a common area with Elinor but I have my own room and bathroom.”

“Convenient,” he remarked as he took everything.

The wallpaper and wainscoting with its harlequin pattern screamed posh but Felicity’s common room was decorated in warm earth tones and looked cozy and inviting. She took him by the hand and led him to her bedroom.

Jack tried to cover up his nervousness by cracking a joke. “Inviting me into your bedroom so soon? Why, Miss Dupin, should I be worried about my virtue?”

Felicity stopped walking and looked at him over her shoulder. Her expression turned sultry and Jack felt…warm. Yes, warm. Let’s go with that.

“If you’re very lucky,” she purred and turned around, leading him through the heavy oak door and into her room. ‘ The place was a girl’s dream; a four poster bed with a canopy and privacy curtains, all done with brocade satin and light silks. The colors were shades of muted Spring greens shot here and there with gold and cinnamon. He felt immediately welcome and comfortable and had to stop himself flopping on the bed and burying himself under the duvet.

“This room is awesome.”

She smiled at him and it was her usual warm, friendly smile. “Thanks. I sent ahead instructions to have it redecorated over the summer. I wanted it to feel homey.”

“I’d say you succeeded.” He pointed at the bed and she nodded so he grinned and sat down. She sat down half a meter away and then turned her body to face him.

“Let me guess,” Felicity said as she settled in, “you’re here about the ball.”

She had decided to make it easy on him. That was lucky. “Yes.”

She blinked at him. “So either you two flipped a coin to see who’d ask me out, you volunteered to ask me out,” her gaze intensified and he felt as him she could read his every thought, “or Doyle wants Barry to ask out Irene because it looks good in front of the Board and you’re asking me by default.”

How the hell could anyone look at her and think Holmes is the better detective?! “Yes.”

Her eyes narrowed at him and a host of emotions crossed her face; annoyance, amusement, acceptance. “Knowing you didn’t have any real input and don’t actually have a choice, do you really think I’ll say yes?”

That was the script they were both following, right? He was a Watson and she was a Dupin. Both were nepo babies whether they wanted to be or not, with expectations they’d never asked for. “Please?”

Felicity just sat there glaring at him for what felt like five minutes. Jack could feel himself start to sweat. Was she going to say no and go against the Headmaster? He admired her rebellion but didn’t want her bitched out by Doyle or her parents by going against the grain. Hell, he’d love to ditch the ball and take her on a motorbike ride. She’d look cute in his leather jacket.

Just when he was about to suggest the bike ride she sighed and her shoulders drooped. “Yeah, okay.” She chuckled and then looked at him. “Even though we don’t want to go, Professor Akunin deserves to be avenged.”

She smiled at him but her eyes looked grave and sad. Then the sadness faded and she just looked determined.

He laughed but it sounded fake. “Hey, uh, it’s not too late to ditch the party and go for a joy ride. Maybe see the stars?”

She looked like she was considering it but then she shook her head. “Yeah, Jack,” she leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. “It is.”

“Cut!”

Felix felt annoyed but didn’t know why. The take was perfect; they delivered all their lines just as they’d rehearsed. Even the kiss was scripted and perfectly chaste. He was pretty sure he’d heard a “woohoo!” from one of the crew.

Marinette and Luka sagged against each other. They seemed pleased with themselves and looked at him with hopeful expressions on their faces.

“How was it?”

Marinette was the one who asked this time. Interesting. He thought it would be Luka. Felix just nodded.

“Good job. Got it in one take. We’ll do one more just to be sure and move on.”

He hid his confusion and irritation behind a mask of professionalism but something in Luka’s smile made him think the other boy saw through him again. Maybe he could hear Felix’s melody or whatever he called it.

Marinette seemed pleased and beamed at him so hard he froze for a second. Damn, how did she do that?

She didn’t seem to notice his confusion and flopped on the bed, pulling Luka down with her. “Afterwards, can Luka and I take a nap?”

Really, stop being adorable. “No, Miss Dupain-Cheng, you have a lounge for that.”

They giggled at him and he pretended not to hear them. “Take your marks, please. Let’s go through it one more time.”

They complained good-naturedly and their second take was just as good.

He pretended he had paperwork to do when they invited him for a nap

Felix was halfway to his office before he realized he had company. He stopped. “Bitcheois?”

“Duh.”

“Would you like to take a nap with me?”

There was a pause and a rustle as Chloe checked her phone and then put it back in her purse. “Yeah. I got time. What the hell?”

“Thanks.” She didn’t ask why he wanted company and he didn’t elaborate.

He just didn’t want to be alone or be judged. He could tell Chloe felt the same way at times.

They continued to walk in silence.

“I’ll share Mister Cuddly.”

He didn’t even pause. “Thanks.”

“

#worthy opponent au marinette dupain cheng felix graham de vanily quantic kids chloe bourgeois luka couffaine felinette lukanette

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