#so I decided to draw her overexcited this time

[neon9nebula]

☆ Level-up ☆

• Level 10 : Silly

• Level 40 : Crazy !

Keep calm but be silly sometimes

Inspo :

I freaking love this sirwal pants !

[putellasawfc]

hii.. i just read ur “mapi as a girlfriend is the type to” fic which i absolutely adore, could write something to do with reader actually letting mapi tattoo her please 💗

just something short & sweet whilst i get back into the hang of writing again! if anyone wants a pt2 where mapi actually does the tattoo let me know :)

-

“how many of these did you do?” you breathed, in a state of awe as you admired the countless amount of doodles in mapi’s notebook.

the defender stood beside you, peering over your t-shirt clad shoulder with a bashful smile on her face, very out of character for the usually boastful footballer. “i’ve had a lot of free time since my injury, mi amor.”

you couldn’t argue with that. but the huge assortment of drawings were quite overwhelming, you didn’t know where to start. each page you turned there was a new array of tattoo designs to discover: different flowers, quotes, animals - even a double page reserved for your favourite food and drinks, which mapi seemed to perk up at, pointing out the milkshake she had drawn, stating it was her best.

“baby, i don’t know if i can choose. there’s so many.” you told her, wincing at the sheer amount of pages you had yet to flick through.

your girlfriend remained silent for a few seconds and you risked taking a glance in her direction, expecting to see her pouting back at you. instead, however, you were met with a grinning maría león, something you had come to dread seeing over the years.

“oh no. i’m scared to ask.”

she scoffed at that, gently pushing you with a faux offended look. “you act as if i’m about to suggest something illegal.”

“i wouldn’t be surprised.” you deadpanned.

“that was one time- anyways!” the tattooed woman pushed back the stray hairs that had fallen loose from the messy bun she had thrown her hair up into earlier and gestured to the book. “why don’t i just decide for you?”

you glanced between her and the book, your bottom lip slotting between your teeth as you mulled over mapi’s question, knowing your next decision could put an end to you ever wearing a bikini again. “i don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“come on! don’t you trust me? you know i would never put something you don’t like on your body permanently, mi amor.” she tugged at one of your arms that were crossed against your chest, her tone coming out whiny.

you paused at that, knowing she had a point. if she had gone to all this effort, to draw out well over one hundred different tattoo ideas whilst she waited for you to finally allow her to put tattoo pen to skin, she wouldn’t ruin it by giving you something you’d hate to look at in the mirror.

as if she could sense your hard resolve slowly melting away, she pressed a swift peck to your temple and brought you closer to her with an arm around your shoulder. “i know you better than you know yourself. let me surprise you, i promise you’ll love it.”

you huffed out a breath, your shoulders sagging with defeat which alerted mapi of your agreement without you even having to say anything. before you could even blink, she started jumping up and down on the spot, clapping her hands together in excitement and you couldn’t fight off the smile at her utter glee, you really needed to learn how to say no to her.

“oh my god i’m gonna give you the best tattoo ever sweetheart! even better than any of mine, you’re going to be obsessed with it! you’re the best, you don’t know how hap-“

“mapi, darling, breathe!” you couldn’t help but laugh at her overexcitement, slightly worrying that you might have to make her sit down for a few minutes before she started with the tattoo.

“lo siento, lo siento. i just can’t believe this is finally happening, i was starting to think you were never going to let me tattoo you.”

and again, you were going to have to learn how to start saying no to your girlfriend (and stick with it).

[leighsartworks216]

Writer's Block

Zayne x gn!Reader

I've been stuck in a bit of a rut trying to write for these boys, so I decided to write a fic about writer's block to get out of my writer's block. To be honest, I have no idea how it worked as well as it did

Warnings: established relationship, swearing, domestic fluff, writer's block, food, eating, cuddling, forehead kisses, references to Clopidogrel the squirrel

Word Count: 2,436

Main Masterlist

Love and Deepspace Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The little black bar blinks mockingly at you. The only mark on the empty document, taunting you for your lack of creativity, of imagination, of perseverance. Blink, blink, blink. Waiting for you to type anything. And you come up pitifully short.

You sigh and shut your laptop. You look around the living room, at the little knick-knacks you brought from your apartment when you moved in, the cozy blankets strewn about as the days get colder, and the clock on the wall. You could watch TV, pick out a book from the shelf, put together a puzzle…

You open your laptop again. The empty document continues to mock you.

What do you want to write about? Action? Well, you’ve never been very good at writing fight scenes or thrilling chases. How about some romance? Eh, you have no idea where to start with that, and relationship drama sounds about as appealing as a moldy pizza crust from the bottom of a week-old dumpster. If you were a bit cleverer, you would try your hand at a murder mystery.

“Love?”

You hum.

Zayne comes around the sofa to pick up your empty mug from this morning that sits lonely on the coffee table. He looks down at you skeptically. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“No,” you admit. He’d pry it out of you either way; might as well tell the truth. “My brain is stuck, right now. All I want to do is write, but nothing is coming out.”

“Why not take a break?”

“Because nothing else sounds good to do,” you try to explain. “Trying to do anything else feels bad, but trying to write also feels bad.”

He closes your laptop and sets it on the coffee table. “Let’s start with getting something to eat. We can go to that music-themed diner we saw the other day.”

You sigh, long and drawn out, but the look he gives you advises you not to argue with him. “Okay.”

He smiles slightly. “Your brain needs time to rest, even if all you want to do is push through it.” He leans down and kisses your forehead. “Go get dressed. Something warm; it’s chilly outside.”

“Yes, doctor.” You draw yourself up from the cushion, body aching from sitting there for so long. He raises an eyebrow at you. You roll your eyes and kiss his cheek. “Yes, my love.”

“That’s better.” He returns the kiss and heads into the kitchen to rinse out your mug.

You shoot one last glare at your laptop, before going to the bedroom to change.

-

The drive is mostly quiet. The soft hum of the AC pushing warm air throughout the car being the most prominent sound in the silence. You watch the people passing by, walking or biking along. You try to make little stories for some of them.

While Zayne is stopped at a red light, you point out his window at a teenage girl being pulled along by an overexcited dog. “She stole it from the pound.” He chuckles lightly, caught off guard by the sudden remark. “It’s a gift for her little brother, because their parents won’t let them get a pet. She’s gonna say it was running loose when she found it, and, ‘Oh please, can we keep it? We’ll take good care of it!’”

“Will they let her keep it?” he asks as the light turns green.

You huff and sink into your seat, staring back out of your window. “Who knows?”

He reaches over to hold your hand in your lap. His thumb runs over your knuckles, tracing the familiar path it takes every time you’re upset, brushing over the silver ring on your finger. It’s almost Pavlovian how quickly it soothes you. “I think they just might.”

You know it pains Zayne to see you like this, acting like a petulant child just because you can’t think of a few good words. You lean your head on his shoulder. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Mhm, but can I anyway?”

He breathes a quiet laugh. “Yes, you can.”

“Then, I’m sorry for acting like this. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He kisses the top of your head. “Of course. If you would like to make it up to me, we should go to that crepe stand in the park.”

You laugh and pinch his hand. He squeezes you back in return. “Okay, Mr. Sweet Tooth, we can go there after lunch.”

-

The diner is snug. All sorts of band memorabilia line every inch of the walls. The tables are decorated with images of album covers, protected by a layer of see-through plastic. You manage to snag a booth right by the door, giving you a perfect view into the connected gift shop, lined with instruments and CDs.

As you wait for your food, named after old 1980s and 90s songs, you and Zayne catch up. Small updates on how Yvonne and Greyson are doing, in exchange for an odd article you saw on Moments. You tell him about a cat you saw the other day that you forgot to tell him about, and he updates you on Clopidogrel, the squirrel who comes to his office window to beg for nuts. Once the food arrives, though, conversation is exchanged in favor of listening.

Over the old music blaring a little too loudly in the diner, you listen to the full tables of friends and family that chat. You overhear something about an Aunt Mindy who’s just adopted another parrot, despite already owning three. Someone’s boss who keeps microwaving fish for lunch, and the ongoing notes-on-the-fridge war about it. A friend of a friend of a friend who met some celebrity, or so they say, but they can’t be trusted to tell the truth because of such-and-such.

A couple sitting behind Zayne, right beside the entrance to the gift shop, seem to be on their first date. The guy is talking a lot, even speaking over the girl he’s with at some points. You try not to stare when she suddenly blows up about him not listening to her. He talks over her again to try defending himself. It gets so bad, two staff have to tell them to leave so they stop disturbing everyone else. They don’t even get their food as they stomp out, continuing to complain all the while. Zayne shoots you a look that says he knows you’ll be using this for your writing at some point down the line.

Bellies nearly full, with just enough left for a dessert crepe, Zayne takes a moment to take in the decor. There’s one sign high up on the wall that says, “If you remember the 60s, you weren’t there!” It must be quite old. Really, all of the stuff in here could be considered antique. It’s fascinating to see it being appreciated instead of locked away behind glass; given the chance to live again.

“Feeling better?” he asks as he leads you back to his car, parked in a lot nearby.

“Mhm. But now I keep thinking…”

“About what?”

“How glad I am that none of our dates went that poorly.”

He chuckles softly. You smile and hold onto his arm, leaning into him. “Well, there was that time early on…”

You laugh at the memory. “You should have gone right home! I told you not to worry about dinner!”

“I couldn’t leave you to eat at that restaurant alone, exhausted or otherwise.”

“But then I had to drive you back home, anyway! You know how I don’t like driving your car.”

The car in question unlocks with a beep. He opens up the passenger side door for you to get in. “I’m glad my perseverance didn’t ruin your opinion of me,” he says, before shutting the door and rounding the car to get into the driver’s seat.

Once he gets in, you poke his arm. “Of course not. It just meant I had to get on your ass more about overworking yourself.”

“Yet you still ignore my advice…” He gives you a pointed glance as he starts the car. “Do I have to start getting on your ass about overworking yourself?”

“You already are!”

“I could be far more insistent about it than I currently am.”

“Please don’t.”

-

The park by the hospital is familiar and welcoming, as always. A light breeze caresses your cheeks as you start walking side by side, and you’re glad you dressed warmly like Zayne said to. Still, you may or may not have used it as an excuse to walk even closer to him, to “conserve heat” as you fake a shiver. He’s so used to your antics by now, he teases you about the possibility of keeping an extra coat and scarf in his car for you.

The people at the crepe stand know you already. You try not to think about how often you must visit for that to be the case, as they ask if you want your usuals and get to building the crepes exactly as you like. Zayne is just patient enough to let you take a quick photo of both of your treats together to post on Moments. You fondly wipe away a small glop of whipped cream from the corner of his mouth that he misses, and he catches your hand before you can put it on his nose instead.

You walk to a secluded little bench that you’ve practically claimed for yourselves. You’ve never seen anyone else sit here, ever. It’s tucked away beside a small pond, where ducks huddle together as they float, flat beaks tucked under their wings as they enjoy an afternoon nap. The bench itself is old and worn down, covered in lichen and carved into by old lovers. But it’s yours.

You sit side by side, watching the waterfowl and enjoying your treats. When you finish your crepe, you lean your head against his shoulder. He wraps his arm around your waist to keep you close, indulging in being a little more affectionate in the extra bit of privacy you have here. It feels nice, just being here with him.

“Thank you again for this,” you say softly. You can’t fight the smile that appears on your face when you feel his head rest on top of yours. “The head editor has been hounding us all lately to write something spectacular. As much as I love working for the paper, sometimes it makes writing painful.”

He hums in understanding. His fingers trace mindless shapes against your hip, only stopping when you squirm from how ticklish it is. “You went into a job that makes your hobby into work, but that detracts from the relaxing, fun experience it used to be.”

You sigh. “Yeah. And then the stuff I do end up writing for fun, I hoard to myself. I haven’t done that for years, because I like sharing my stuff with other people. Now, it’s like I have to keep that little scrap of joy all to myself.” You close your eyes and turn your head to press your cold nose against his jacket lapel. “I know I should just quit and find something else to do, but even if I want to write a novel or a book of my own, I’d still be turning my hobby into a job.”

“You would be able to work at your own pace.”

“Then who’s to say I’ll ever finish anything to be able to publish it?”

“What would happen if you didn’t publish anything?” he counters. “Aside from posting on the internet.”

You pause for a minute. If you did quit, start writing for yourself and decide to write a novel, what would happen if it never got published? There wouldn’t be an editor or boss looking over your shoulder, hounding you about deadlines or appealing to a larger audience. And there wouldn’t be people expecting a novel from you unless you bring it up yourself. You could work on a secret project for years with Zayne as your only witness and there would be no worrying about other people getting hype and losing interest when you take longer than expected. Sure, you wouldn’t get paid, but money wasn’t a concern with Zayne’s career, and you could always do a little freelance if you felt like it, or find another job that doesn’t involve writing, so you can keep it as a hobby all to yourself again.

You sigh, as though a huge burden has been lifted from your shoulders, and lean a bit heavier into his side. He welcomes it easily, adjusting his arm to wrap around your back so he can rub your arm. “I’ll put in my two weeks notice tomorrow,” you tell him. “Which means I still have to figure out what to write about for this assignment.”

“You’ll think of something,” he assures. “You can always write about that girl and her stolen dog.”

You chuckle. “Her parents will post up flyers about a missing dog, and an employee at the pound will see it. It’ll be a huge scandal. And just when she thinks she’ll have to give up the dog - which they’ve named Sir Butterton the Third - her parents will finally relent and adopt it.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, and he smiles down at you with those ever-calming hazel eyes of his. “See? You’ve already got a plot synopsis. The rest will come naturally.” He squeezes your hand, which has grown cold after spending so long in the cool breeze and autumn weather. “Now, we should get you home before you catch a cold.”

“You’re out here, too! You could catch a cold just as easily.”

“All the more reason to hurry back.” He stands first and helps you from the old bench. You’re not sure he even consciously thinks about it before doing up your jacket to keep the cold air from getting in. You don’t mind. It gives you a chance to admire the man you’ve chosen as your life partner. He gives you a questioning look. “What’s on your mind now?”

You smile and reach up to playfully adjust his scarf. “Oh, nothing. Just wondering who I should base the dad on in my story.”

His ears turn pink, but he shakes his head, taking your hand from his scarf and leading you back toward the car. “If that’s the case, I would recommend a different name for the dog in your story.”

“Oh? What should it be, then?”

“Aprotinin.”

“I’m not naming the dog after a drug!”

---

Tag List:

@the-golden-jhope @deepzombieyouth @huen1ngk41 @armycaratlover @cheesemachine44 @nyx2021 @angel-jupiter

[abyssower]

The continuation is already very much delayed, but what did I decided to do instead of writing? Correct, I decided to draw, and the modern world. I had a headcanon in my head that Helga in our time would be addicted to energy drinks a couple of days ago, so that her overexcited brain would not think about what she did not want to think about.

The phone treacherously decided to run out of battery when I finished drawing the outline, so in a hurry I did a quick coloring, and then did not finish, because it looks funny

[holdmytesseract]

Hello beautiful!

Could I possibly get prompt 148 🥺

I can't wait to see who you decide gets to ask to kiss me!✨

Love yoooouuuu 💕💕

Hi there! ☺️ Thanks for the prompt! Love you, tooooo! 🧡

148. “I really want to kiss you right now.” “Then do it.”

"You are kidding me, right?!" You asked Natasha excitedly, feeling the pure happiness crawl up inside your body. The red-haired woman laughed, shaking her head. "I'm not! Tony said it, I swear! Now let's go, get ready!" "Eeee!" You squealed up and hugged your friend quickly, before you ran to your apartment, in order to get ready.

"Loki, Loki!" You cried out, slamming the door behind yourself. "Put on your best suit!" "Why?" Your best friend called back. You left him here, before you went to the meeting - and he hadn't moved an inch. Getting rid of your shoes, you stormed down the hallway and inside the living room. He was still laying on the sofa, nose buried in a book. "Because we are going out!" The god lowered his book, facing you. "Where to? And who is we?" You started to smile brightly. "Everyone, and we are going to the Broadway, watching a musical!" "Which musical?" "Aladdin!" Loki sighed. "And I have to join you?" You jumped excitedly up and down, nodding, "Yes!" before you started to pout. "Please, please, please?" "Alright, alright... I'm coming." "Yaay!"

About an hour later, the whole Avengers gang stood in front of the Broadway theatre. Steve clapped his hands. "Let's go inside." Everybody followed him and took a place inside the big theatre. You sat, of course, beside Loki, more than ready and excited for the show. You loved musicals since you were a teenager, and now that you had the luck to see a Broadway musical was special for you. That was probably the reason why you were so excited that you almost tripped over your feet. Luckily, Loki was there to catch you. "Everything alright, darling?" You smiled up to him, still clinging to his black shirt. "Yeah, thank you... Guess I'm a bit overexcited..." A low chuckle left his lips. "I wouldn't have guessed that. Let's sit, come on." He guided you to your places, making sure that you arrived safly and without an incident.

The musical itself was absolutely wonderful and magically. Witnessing Jasmine's and Aladdin's love grow was beautiful, and causing you to stare at the actors dreamy. Unbeknownst to you, was Loki watching you the whole time, feeling his own butterflies inside his stomach running wild. To see you so happy and smiling did something to him. Admittedly, he had always wanted you to be more than just a friend, but he didn't dare to take this step yet; always waiting for the right moment. Perhaps this was the moment he had been waiting for. "Y/N?" He whispered your name softly, drawing your attention away from the stage and towards him. "Yeah?" The god swallowed hard, taking a deep breath. "I really want to kiss you right now." You just stared blankly at him for a moment, before you started to smile. "Then do it." Loki didn't let himself tell that twice, of course. He dipped his head and leaned in until your lips met. The kiss was wonderful; magical - and got quickly interrupted. "Really now, guys? Ugh, go get a room, please." Tony piped up from behind you, annoyed. You and Loki just giggled at his words, before reconnecting your lips.

I really hope you like it, my friend! 🧡

[idolmelodies]

"Hey, where have you been?" You probably (dont) ask, and receive a big shrug in return.

Joking aside, hello! Hello! Hi!!! It's time for the long overdue update with the state of this blog and the plan moving forward.

Despite me having been on summer break for the past...too many months, I haven't made much progress in way of rebooting my old blog like I wished to do, for many reasons. One of them is medical problems that have severely held me back from drawing, but also me getting far too overexcited about rebooting ClownPosse and not only creating more work for myself but also,,, When I get really excited about things I have the bad habit to push them off more? LMAO, yeah. Doesn't make sense to me either but that's what I'm working with here. But it's still very much coming....just later than I hoped.

As for this blog in particular? Hmmm, to be honest I've thought of hitting that "delete blog" button more than once these past few months but never completing that thought because I think "wait no, I really want to stick around and do things!! Interact with people!" and then getting stuck because this era in my brain has passed, not much motive for it anymore despite having things I want to tell! I love using Magpie a whole bunch, she's so fun to me.

So, my compromise?

A overhaul-- which you may be thinking what do you mean a overhaul!? Isn't that my problem with the other blog? And yes...but also not so much. For this overhaul will be easy peasy, I basically have all I need already and just need to assemble a few pieces and we'll be in business. I was planning on saving present day Magpie and all her silliness for ClownPosse but simply decided that I am tired of waiting and will give myself what I want (especially since her debut for that blog will be...awhile). Anyway, yeah. So I'm gonna overhaul the blog and just dedicate it to normal Magpie silliness! Everything regarding this iteration of the blog will still be like, canon since it's just her past (save for a few lore changes), but I do plan on nixing everything on the blog. So heads up! Sorry for any messiness you may see these coming days,,,I've already started with this overhaul last night while in a trance like state and got carried away. But yeah!

Now the most agonizing part. Thinking of a new name.

TL;DR, Don't be alarmed if you see some changes on this blog in the next few days-- hell you may even already notice a few!! I plan to overhaul it completely and start afresh with a new concept, however still featuring Magpie. I hope you'll stick around for the changes :))

[lured-into-wonderland]

Oh, then he noticed that she blushed! Good that he could not read her mind: --

“Oh, I am not feeling intimidated…and I was not really expecting you to do anything…" - (“If anything I was wondering how it would feel if you actually did”)  – Nunnally waved her hand to brush off his words – “If anything I was slightly embarrassed with myself …although no! That’s not the correct words. Rather surprised with myself that I am taking you here…to this small room instead the formal living-room. I mean…I tend not to invite anyone here unless I know them better...well. It was just unexpected wish that I decided to oblige…” –  ( “Now it’s probably worse than leaving it without any comment”) – she thought but decided not to care about it too much. Instead she offered him a warm smile: --

“Yes, of course, Would you prefer it Japanese or more European way?” – she was happy Victor made himself comfortable. She noticed he was glancing over the room and was, somewhat, interested in what he was thinking. Nunnally did not want him to be disappointed in what the room looked like. She usually did not care, so why this time? The girl was puzzled by his next words; them causing her cheeks getting slightly red again – “Then perhaps you prefer to stay alone? I can provide you with your tea and something to read, if you prefer…to work…it was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable.” – a pause – “I really mean it. I would not feel bad if you prefer me to leave.” – well, probably she was too honest. She should keep it simple and polite.

She genuinely smiled when he told her about his parents. It was such a sweet story. She wished she would have a similar one to tell her children, but she was painfully aware that most likely she would not. Her parents’ marriage was an arranged one (unhappy one as far as she was aware) and she was sure it was the same with both of her grandparents. Well, she was sure about her maternal grandparents and only assumed so when it came to her father’s side. She had never met them. They died long before she was born. So, she simply assumed that arranged marriage would be her fate as well.

“That’s such a lovely story…and such a unique way to honour your parents. I wish I will be able to do something similar one day!”

“I…I am not sure how the park looks right now. I have not been there for a longer while, but…” – her eyes sparkled – “I have always enjoyed water and I remember there was quite much of it…perhaps more footbridges would be nice over the ponds and small streams…and a lot of flowers and trees…I know it’s the amusement park, but I think it’s nice when there are also places just to relax…And I was thinking a cable car…although that’s probably too much…but just imagine being able to look at the park from above…”

She almost picked up the drawing notebook that was left on the small table with some of her drawings to be seen there to start sketching what she meant, but – in the last moment – Nunnally hesitated. Victor was probably just polite and she was getting overexcited, As she was not sure if her father would be pleased she was getting involved. Instead grabbing her notebook, she sat on a chair close to him: --

“I am sure my father will be a great support for the project.” – she smiled and her face became bright as every time she thought about her father; although Nunnally did not truly understand why her father was interested in the park business. Was is because of her…? It was hard for her to believe in it, but it was not impossible, right? – “And if you ever need some assistance, I would always…” – she started…

“I would have to ask my father if he would not object…but I am he would not!”

@txnichtgut

"you don't need to blush. i am not going to do anything," victor pointed out matter-of-factly. the man was faintly aware, that his business partner had a daughter. victor had seen her on a few occasions. she was mostly hidden behind her father, almost like he was keeping her away from the public, which was a very... unsuccessful attempt. he was just happy enough that the most private parts of his life weren't up for discussion in public because he gave them no lead at all. victor was too busy for a love life and on the other hand, he had not gotten over his last crush anyhow.

at least he was ripe enough to meet new women, which was not a goal but a byproduct of his career. he looked at her a bit longer before clearing his throat. "what i mean.... please don't look so intimidated." he liked to think of himself as stern or strict, but not exactly a scary sort of person, although his height was already plenty intimidating for women... in his defense, it was in his genes.

"I like green tea. soothes the mind. if that's possible?" he friendly asked before stepping closer to look over her shoulder. yes, she was tiny. victor tapped his chin and stepped away, not wanting to give her a fright for coming so close and instead just made himself comfortable. victor looked around curiously, certainly looked like something her father would like but there were some clearly personal touches to the decoration here and there.

certainly what nunnally would like, judging by her shy and sweet behavior.

she was much more gentle than her father... who was... actually a little bit off an asshole and certainly not the one he would vote for, but that was nothing he was going to tell nunnally, obviously.

"i know i am not your usual ceo, but i like being... alone. having absolutely no one around. i never liked it when the maids and butlers pampered me. i can totally tie my shoelaces all on my own." he gave her a small smile, never having meant to be intimidating after all, but it was difficult for him. he was not exactly used to show his emotions, partially why his last girlfriend left him.

"i am glad you like the park. it was where my parents met and fell in love. it is more or less the reason i was born. i thought i would like for it to glimmer and sparkle again, just like many many years ago, for more people to appreciate it." his smile was genuine, recalling the memories of himself trying all the wild rides and seeing the many happy faces, especially his parents.

"if you have ideas, feel free to consult me. the planning is part of my tasks, since i suggested this in the first place and your father for some reason seemed very interested."

@lured-into-wonderland

[five-rivers]

Hobbies

Phic phight! @idiot-cheesehead-archenemy

A series of vignettes about Danny having various hobbies.

(Master the Orb)

Danny exhaled slowly as the ice built up between his hands.  Each new layer glittered in the ghostlight cast by the overhead ambient ectoplasm, embedding complex patterns in the overall piece as new layers built up over it.

“Very good, Great One,” rumbled Frostbite behind his shoulder.  “Your control has improved immensely.”

Danny inhaled equally slowly, examining his work so far but not adding to it quite yet.  “I don’t know.  It looks a little lopsided.”

“Mmm, it looks fine to me.  Especially for such an early attempt.”

Danny sighed, exhaling the ice he had built up with his breath.  “So, it is lopsided.”

“Consider it practice,” said Frostbite, encouragingly. “It takes time to master art of any kind.”

“Humans do ice sculpture, too,” mumbled Danny. “They get really good, too.  I’ve seen pictures.  And videos.  They don’t even have ice powers.”  He rubbed his thumb over the surface, smoothing over a slightly rougher patch.

“That may be true,” said Frostbite, “but, again, you just started, Great One.  You have only had your powers for a little while.  Give yourself some support.”

Danny shrugged.  “I guess it isn’t something my life depends on, so I can relax about it.” He built up another layer of ice. “This is oddly therapeutic, and I don’t say therapeutic lightly.  You know Jazz.”

“I do indeed,” said Frostbite, somewhat ruefully, head half-bowed.  

Jazz could be a force of nature, even more so than ice powers.

He held the ice orb up to the light.  It caught on the patterns he had placed there. Fractals were the easiest.  He was hoping that if he got better, he’d be able to make real sculptures with patterns in them, instead of just orbs.  

But, first, he had to master the orb.  Just like how when drawing you had to do circles first.  Circle. Orb.

Ooorb.  Yep.  

The controlled application of ice.  The evenness of the internal patterns.  The solidity, density, and durability.  

His orb was… not very orblike, despite what Frostbite said.  Frostbite probably thought he was making so flat on purpose.  

Yeah.  He was terrible at this.  

He was having fun, though.  

.

.

 (Furnace)

“You’re taking up glass blowing?” asked Tucker, surprised.

“Yeah?  Is there a problem?” asked Danny, reaching over to stop his friend from accidentally drawing a line of orange sharpie across his poster on the themes in Macbeth.

“No!” said Tucker, quickly.  “But, like, why?  It just seems… unlike you.”

“Exactly,” said Danny, nodding sharply.  “It has absolutely nothing to do with my powers and nothing to do with my family.  Plus, I had a coupon.”

“For glass blowing?”

“It was a groupon,” said Danny.  “For making Christmas tree ornaments.  I’m going to do it with Jazz.”

“But, Danny,” said Sam, looking over from where she was working on her own poster about Twelfth Night, “glass blowing, uh, involves a lot of heat.”

“Sure?”

“Danny, you have an ice core.”

“Ah,” said Danny.  “Well.   I’ve got to use that groupon.  If it doesn’t work out, it’s only the once, right?”

.

“Oh my gosh,” said Danny, wringing sweat out of his t-shirt.  “That was awesome!”  He giggled to himself and peaked into the annealer again.  “So awesome!”

“Uh huh,” said Jazz.  Her attempts had been… rather less successful than Danny’s, partially because she was trying so hard to make them perfect.  But she had managed a few little baubles, nonetheless.  “I think these’ll all be good for the tree. Assuming we get one.”

“And it isn’t set on fire.”

“Oh, yeah, that was a bad year.”

He squeaked open the annealer again, only closing it when the instructor lightly scolded him.  “They’re so terrible and lopsided,” said Danny.  

“Hey,” said Jazz.  “Mine are fine.”

“I know!  I was talking about mine.”

“Ah, okay then.  I agree.”

“You aren’t supposed to agree.”

“What, you want me to lie?  And after you said it first?”

“No,” said Danny.  “But you could be nicer about it.”

“I’m your sister, what do you expect?”

.

.

 (Lung Capacity)

Danny let the last note trail off to complete silence. He stared apprehensively at the assembled student body.  Curse Mr. Lancer’s extra credit talent show assignment.  Any minute now, they’d start laughing at him.  

What was he thinking?  He’d just watched a few YouTube tutorials on breath control, and he thought he could come up here and sing in front of people?  He was a moron, and—

Sam and Tucker started cheering wildly, followed rapidly by everyone else in the gym.  

Okay.  What?

Sam and Tucker, following impulses known only to overexcited teenagers, swarmed up the stage and attacking Danny.  

“Why didn’t you tell us you could sing like that?” demanded Sam.  

“When did you learn?” asked Tucker, doing his level best to noogie Danny.  “Why did you learn?”

“I wanted to improve my, you know, wail,” muttered Danny, “and all the breath control YouTube videos either had to do with diving or singing, so…”  He did a little head wiggle to illustrate his point and also dislodge Tucker.  

“I just can’t believe you kept this a secret from us,” said Sam.  

Danny snorted and took a sort of half bow before attempting to leave the stage.  “My dudes, I am basically made of secrets.”

“Encore!” screamed someone who clearly hated him.  

“Oh, no,” said Danny, bracing himself against Sam and Tucker who were pushing him back into the middle of the stage.  “No encore.  I don’t do encores.”

But now people were chanting.  Chanting.  

“Come on, Danny,” said Tucker.  “Just once!”

“Yeah, these are your fifteen minutes of fame!”

“I had those already!  Multiple times!”

“That was Poindexter.”

“And now it can be you.”

Danny reluctantly took the microphone back off the stand.

.

.

 (Letterhead)

The ink was thick, almost creamy, and paint-like. It was the ectoplasm mix, which also gave it a rich, rosy glow.  

Danny was practicing ghost calligraphy.  Well, one particular subset of ghost calligraphy, one which put special emphasis on the color of the letters as well as how they fit together.  

It was a totally useless hobby.  But it was… not exactly calming.  No.  He’d gotten way too angry about poorly formed arcs and crooked lines a couple of times.  So. Yeah.  Not calming.  But… meditative.  Meditative. And there was something satisfying about seeing the finished product.  

Plus, if he framed his better finished work, they made for good presents for weirdo ghosts.

“You misspelled this,” drawled Ghost Writer.  

“No, I didn’t.”

“Keuwii only has one kei.”

“This is only one kei.”

“What’s this, then?”

“It’s a flourish.”

“A flourish.”

Danny rolled his eyes.  “Everyone’s a critic.  If you don’t want it—”

“I didn’t say that.”

Danny raised an eyebrow.  

Ghost Writer made a show of rolling his eyes. “Very well.  Do you have one for my half-brother Randy.  Perhaps one that says something along the lines of ‘idiot?’”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

.

.

 (Babies on Fire)

“Danny,” said Jazz.  “What are you doing up at three in the morning with a lighter? And… yarn?  Is that yarn?”

“Dad wanted me to learn how to sew,” said Danny, “but I don’t like needles, not the sharp ones, anyway.”

“You get stitches every other week,” pointed out Jazz.

“Exactly,” said Danny, gesturing with the lighter.  “So, I decided to look into, you know, knitting. And I was on knitting websites, and having, you know, a pretty good time with that, but then I found out about the babies.”

“The babies.”

“The babies,” said Danny, seriously.  “And the blankets that are on fire.  It depends on the yarn, you see.  If the yarn is the wrong kind of yarn, if it catches on fire, the blanket can melt onto the baby.  It’s terrible.  Just terrible.”

“I kind of think that if the blanket is on fire you have bigger problems,” said Jazz.  She took a step closer to her obviously insane younger brother.  “Are you… testing the yarn?”

“I have to, Jazz.  It’s for the babies.”

“Alright,” said Jazz.  “You are going to limit it to just the yarn in our house, right?”

“But we don’t have any babies.”

“Okay, that didn’t answer my question, but, like…” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Since we don’t have any babies here, why are you testing the yarn?”

“Because we might have babies here in the future,” said Danny.  “Or I might knit something and give it to someone as a gift and then they give it to their baby.  Oh my gosh, I’d feel so guilty.”

“I’d be more worried about the toxic waste in our basement,” said Jazz, which was exactly the wrong thing to say to a sleep-deprived half-ghost on the edge of an Obsession-fueled breakdown.  Danny vanished in a blur, trailing yarn behind him. Jazz, who had only gotten up for a glass of water, cursed under her breath.

.

.

 (Before the Ball)

“I’m so, so sorry, Dora,” said Danny, holding back something adjacent to laughter.  

Dora laughed, more openly.  “It is fine, Sir Phantom.  Even now, you are better than my brother.”

“Am I really?  Your brother?  Who was raised to do this?”

“Well,” said Dora, letting go and stepping back out of the range of Danny’s feet.  Which were, evidently, both left feet.  “No, I’m afraid, but it is amusing to say, isn’t it?”  She pressed her fingers to her lips, suppressing more laughter.  

“Yeah, it is,” admitted Danny.  

“In any case, you are far more graceful concerning your mistakes than he ever was.  More gallant. A better representative of chivalry altogether.”  She patted the shoulders of his shirt.  

“Thanks,” said Danny.  “Do you think that I’ll be, uh, ready in time for the party?”

“It’s more than a party,” said Dora.  “You’re being officially knighted.  You’ll be a peer of the realm.”

“Aha,” said Danny.  “Yeah.  I don’t… what?  Really? That’s a thing?”

“You thought I was joking?”

“No,” said Danny, drawing out the word.  He had, in fact, thought she was joking and only accepted her offer to teach him how to dance because he thought it sounded like fun and like it might take his mind off his problems.  “Of course not.  So. Dancing.  Important.  For first impressions?”

“Everyone already knows you, Phantom,” said the knight assigned as Dora’s bodyguard.  “But dancing is surprisingly useful for swordplay.  Which you need all the help you can get at.”

“You said I was getting better.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re good.”

“Ouch.”

.

.

 (Time)

“I don’t have time for a hobby,” complained Danny through the Fenton Phones.  “Maybe if the ghosts let up a bit—” He zapped one of said ghosts.  

“Danny, are you fighting ghosts right now?”

“Yeah.  That’s my point.”

“Oh my god, get off the phone.”

“No way!  This is the only time I can call you, what with all of your classes.”

“Danny…” said Jazz, clearly exasperated.  He took advantage of the lull in the conversation to blast a few more ghosts.  

“I’m fine Jazz.”

“You are not fine.  You are, like, ten thousand miles away from fine.  When was the last time you even slept through the night?”

“Eh,” said Danny.  “Recently?”

“You need to take more time for yourself.”

Danny sighed and captured the last ghost.  “Maybe catching ghosts is my hobby.”

“Catching ghosts is your self-imposed penance for doing something that isn’t even your fault.  Not a hobby.”

“Okay, okay.  I’ll talk to you on Wednesday, same time.”

“Danny, don’t—”

He hung up.  

“Ugh,” said Danny.  “I guess I need to find a hobby.  Have to find time to find a hobby.”

“Perhaps I could be of help.”

“Ah!”  Danny jolted forward, dropping his phone.  

Clockwork gestured with one hand, and the phone dropped back into Danny’s hands from above.  

“Ohhh my ghost, why are you here?”

“You were just talking about finding time.  And now I’m here.”

“Good timing, I guess?”

“Only the best,” said Clockwork, evenly.  “But we were speaking of hobbies.  Might I suggest ice sculpture?  Your friends in the Far Frozen would be more than happy to teach you...”

[liquid-luck-00]

Maribat Secret Santa 2020

@maribat-secret-santa-2020

Happy Holidays everyone🎁

In my defense there was a minimum of 2000 words and there was no max so this ended up being 6112 words sorry, I think. There is some Adrien, class and Lila salt, Adrien gets some sugar later.

Without further ado @eve-v0lution I am your Secret Santa, enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette has never been a normal girl. When she was born the goddess Tikki appeared claiming her as her chosen and the next Ladybug. She was born the granddaughter of Ra's Al Ghul, the head of the League of Assassins, the sister organization to the Order of the Miraculous. Her older brother, and twin, Damian was called to be the next Demon.

When they were five, she was taken to the Temple of the Order of Miraculous. she and her brother kept in contact, but it wasn't much more, than 'yes I am still alive, are you?' which was fine with them. As they were often trained together by both the League and the Order.

A week before they turned 10, she was named the Great Guardian and given the Miracle box. On their 10th birthdays he returned to the League to support her brother as he was officially named the heir of the Demon. However, things never went that smoothly. Slade Wilson led an attack on the League killing their grandfather. Damian rushed on to fight the Mercenary. She followed at his side the only thing she said before entering the fray was "Duusu fans" and combat fans dropped into her hands.

Between the two of them, they pushed Deathstroke back. However, he didn't retreat before throwing a sword at Damian. She called upon Wayzz's "Shell-ter" catching the sword in the shield’s dome. She took the hilt of the blade before dropping the dome. The two of them shared a look before running to find their Mother. Together they used Kaakli's portal to go to the Order.

However, they were met with an equally gruesome sight. Many of the monks laid dead, those that weren't were not in much better of a condition.

A single elder survived, speaking of the simultaneous attack on the Order and League. He told them that he will rebuild the order, but that Mari needed to keep the Miracle box safe. In the end Mother told them that she will be leaving them with their Father.

To say it was a surprise that their Father was Batman would be a stretch. Mother and Grandfather only allowed perfection, so not as surprising as one would think. Batman being Bruce Wayne, sure that wouldn't be her first guess but so what. What actually surprised her were her new brothers.

Damian hated them but she loved their antics. Where Damian became the next Robin, Mari stayed in the cave manning the comms as well as their numerous and often injuries.

However, when she did join everyone on the roof tops, Scarlet joins them. A red cropped hoodie that ended a little below her ribs. A long sleeve Kevlar shirt with a high neck. Black gloves and arm guards were holding the sleeves of the hoodie down. Her pants were the same Kevlar as the shirt and was just as formfitting, there were guards on her thighs that wouldn’t impede on her movement as well as knee pads connected to the shin guard. Short combat boots, a red sash tied to her waist hiding the utility belt and yo-yo, and a mechanical mask that conceals the bottom half of her face. And to top it off Tikki turns her eyes violet and her hair to white.

"Scarlet" Nightwing called to her. They were partnered and patrolling the west side of Gotham.

"Yes"

"Let’s race"

"What do I get when I win?"

He held his hand to his chest in mock hurt "Just so you know one week, anything the winner says is law for one week for the loser"

"Make it one favor redeemable whenever and you've got it" she challenged. He was torn but he agreed.

"Count me in" they heard Red Hood.

"Same" Red Robin also entered "Robin?"

"Tt. No"

"Fine. First back to the cave wins" Nightwing answered. "Go!"

She swung through Gotham and dropped into a pitch-black alley 'voyage' Mari whispered too low for the comms to pick up. Dropping through the portal and into the cave. Her transformation dropped and Tikki went to sit on her shoulder. Alfred was there waiting, Duusu perched on his shoulder as well, with a tray of cookies. She gave him a nod in silent thanks, as she still had a comm in her ear.

Ten minutes later Red Hood pulls in and was about to celebrate when both Red Robin and Nightwing crash into him. Creating a mess of limbs over the motor bike.

"Ha I win now you guys owe" Jason was about to rub in his victory from the bottom of the pile when Mari giggled, pulling the attention of her three brothers.

"Sorry Jay but you lost" she, Alfred, and the kwami were clearly in the middle of tea and cookies.

"She is correct Master Jason. Miss Marinette has been here for the past 10 minutes"

"Tt. Honestly don't race against some one who teleports." Damian grumbled as he walked away from the Bat-mobile.

"Don't worry. I'll wait until you forget you owe me to cash in" she smiled wickedly. "Good night."

And that was when they remembered 'Right Mari has the ability to use the powers of several pocket-sized gods' that was a lesson they wouldn't forget soon. Well Tim and Jason didn't forget; Dick would still bet against her though.

Jason found out she is the perfect prank partner. And no one in or out of the manor was safe. How they managed to swap all of Green Arrow's arrows, each being a different gag, was a mystery even Batman couldn't or wouldn't attempt to solve. The fact that the Justice League saw and heard Batman fall to the floor laughing, scared most of them from finding out. Those who didn't learned what happens when you don't leave well enough alone.

School was well boring; between the curriculum of the League and the Order she had already gotten 2 PHDs and 5 masters. School was nothing more than a pleasantry at this point. Father wouldn't let them out of school, something about needing to be normal kids. That only seemed to draw the twins into the spotlight more, because they were the only two blood children of Bruce Wayne. Damian became known quite fast as Gotham's Ice Prince, but Mari became known as Gotham's Sunshine just as fast.

But don’t let the name fool you, within the first year their classmates learned that yes Damian Wayne is scared of something, and that something was actually a someone who just happened to be his twin sister. Damian apparently was feeling petty about something, and for the life of her she can’t remember what, but he decided to write in big red letters ‘NO!!!’ across every page of her sketchbook. She found that out during lunch, and that was when the entire school learned that the little sunshine child was the only thing that can put the fear of God in the Ice Prince.

---

Freshman year Mari finally got her Dad to agree to letting her into the exchange program for the next four years.

So, she decided on Paris.

Why, why did this exchange have to be four years long. I’m not gonna survive this.

Admittedly it started off okay, okay not really but then things went downhill, fast, faster than you could imagine.

It started when she met her host family. They met her at the airport and that was an experience, I guess.

"Mlle Wayne? Correct" a tall slender woman in glasses asked her.

"Yes Madame" she replied with a polite smile.

"Natalie Sancoeur" the woman replied "And this is" she started but was cut off by a boy around her age, he had blonde hair and green eyes. But what stood out to her was his attributes reminded her of an overexcited and hyper puppy.

"Adrien Agreste" he smiled at her, so she did what was expected of her in polite society.

"Marinette Wayne" and she extended her hand to shake his. However, instead he pulled her into a hug. Once she realized what was happening, she pushed away from him and took a step back. She looked at him and her thought of him being a puppy was only reinforced with the look on his face. So, she looked at Sancoeur, while the woman looked at Agreste with indifference she looked at Mari as if she was in the wrong.

This is going to be great. Was the only thought as she endured the drive to the Agreste household.

Agreste would not shut up the entire way and seemed to be hurt that she didn't answer him. Agreste was also the one who was to give her the tour of the mansion. It wasn’t so bad it gave her the chance to gauge the defense systems, which was lacking, and the layout was simple compared to the Wayne Manor, the League's compound, and the Order's temple.

Unfortunately for her, Agreste ended the tour with her room and then proceeded to sit on the bed and continue to ramble about whatever was on his mind. She did try to get him to leave but that was a complete waste of time and effort. Kwami it was like he couldn't hear me or more likely didn’t even care about my opinion. So, she put in her headphones, hid them behind her hair, pressed play to of music and went to unpack.

As she was finishing setting up the bathroom she noticed, like every other door in this house, there was no lock.

Ugh I need to speak with Monsieur Agreste.

She went back out and saw him. Agreste was at the desk where she had set her laptop and was trying to open it.

"Excuse me but what are you doing?" she asked pointedly, having taken out her headphones and set them in the case.

"I was trying to see what you had on your laptop" he shrugged "can you tell me the password to get in?"

"No" she deadpanned; he had the gall to look shocked. That was when Mme Sancoeur entered the room, without even knocking.

"Lunch is" was all she said before Agreste cut her off.

"Natalie make her open her computer for me" Agreste whined.

She was about to speak but Marinette beat her to it. "Um No. What I have on my personal computer is none of your concern" his face fell while Mme. Sancoeur pursed her lips. "Furthermore, I am assuming since you are at the desk, the bed is askew, and the drawers are open and my clothes are in shambles you were going through my things" she was now glaring at the blonde invading her space. Now he had the decency of looking ashamed. "Am I to assume lunch will be held in the dinning room?" Mme. Sancoeur only nodded, and she left the room.

Lunch, if you can call it that, was also a disaster. Apparently, Americans eat chicken noodle soup, a hamburger, and a load of fries. Because that was what was set in front of her.

Ugh this is going to be a long four years.

"Mlle. Wayne, I hope everything has been to your liking" M. Agreste, Gabriel, as he introduced himself earlier spoke. “You have hardly eaten.”

"Would you prefer my honesty or would you rather me lie to you" Marinette responded swirling the water in her glass.

"Your honesty" he answered slightly unsure.

At this she scoffed "I am going to assume that you and no one else had bothered to read the file of my information that was sent to you" he as well as Mme. Sancoeur remained quiet "Because if you had you would know I am a vegetarian."

Mme. Sancoeur searched some thing on her tablet and there was a soft "oh" from her.

"Your son is also suffocating, to the point that when I asked him to leave the room so I could settle in peacefully, he remained as if I hadn’t asked him to leave" M. Agreste was going to say something but she continued "He also has no sense of privacy as he went through all of my belongings and was attempting to go through my laptop as well." Again, he was going to say something, but Mari continued. "On the topic of privacy neither the bedroom door nor the bathroom have a lock."

“Paris is completely safe, as the house is protected, it should not matter if there is a lock on the door” he replied in a monotone.

“I’m sorry doesn’t matter, in what universe is it alright for two teenagers of the opposite sex be in a house where one of said teenagers doesn’t respect the other enough to leave them alone” she almost started yelling, but kept her head and voice level.

M. Agreste didn’t respond right away, but he gave a small hum before stating that “I will take your request into consideration.”

“Alright, just know that I will guard myself and will not hesitate to use force if necessary” she knew they wouldn’t take her seriously but hey I am warning them, they only gave a nod that they heard. “Also M. Agreste I tend to have a strict morning regimen is it possible for me to continue it using the home gym while here?”

“Of course,” he waved dismissively.

“What does this regimen include?” Mme. Sancoeur asked politely.

Marinette had a wicked smirk as this was going to be the lightest of her routines, she could give but would still most likely shock them. “Oh it is nothing much just a 5 kilometer run as a warm up, then half an hour of boxing, a half an hour of sword forms and training, half an hour of holographic combat training, followed by half an hour of ballet, and half an hour of meditation.” She was smiling watching their reactions and it was priceless. “I usually start around 4 in the morning.”

All of them were shocked, and who would blame them, here I am in my 5’2” high glory with a sunshine disposition stating I can most likely drop kick them into next week. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I was unable to do it this morning on account of being on an airplane, this will be a good way to see the city” so she smiled leaving them gobsmacked.

Finally, she was able to breathe as she ran the streets of Paris listening to her music softly. Back at the mansion she had figured out she had an audience less than ten minutes into boxing, but she continued. As she was about to start the holographic training, that Tim, Barbara, and she had created, but by now the entire Agreste household was watching her. “If you’re only going to watch me leave or else have the decency to spar” she shot at them.

“I’ll do it” little Agreste spoke up “But if I beat you, you’re giving me your computer password.”

“Fine, but when I win, I get locks on both my bedroom door and the bathroom inside” she challenged.

Agreste senior nodded his head and replied bored “Only if you win.”

“First to be knocked down three times loses” she grinned. She went to grab her two training twin swords and handed one to little Agreste.

“These are real swords” he exclaims clearly off balance by the weight of the weapon.

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic, neither have an edge” they got into positions and it was easy to see who would be victorious. I got locks and some privacy oh the small victories are truly sweet.

---

Sunday was uneventful, but so long as she was in the mansion for meals unless she had checked in with Mme. Sancoeur, she was free to her own devices.

Monday she would come to regret that it had to end later, but not for a while at least.

Mari rode to school with little Agreste and that was her first mistake. Everyone in the entire school watched her exit the car added to the fact that she's starting in the middle of the semester and that kicks.

She was wearing a charcoal shirt splattered with metallic red paint, a faux caramel brown leather jacket with a hood, black jeans with burgundy all stars. Her hair was down, and a black messenger bag was over her shoulder.

She got out and simply walked in and towards the main office ignoring everyone, she got her schedule and a map of the school. The principal himself walked her to her homeroom and to her horror little Agreste was in the class.

"Mlle. Bustier" he spoke. "Meet your new student."

"Please introduce yourself" she spoke with a sweet smile.

"Bonjour my name is Marinette, and I will be a part of your class for the next four years."

Marinette moved to take the open seat in the back but of course Little Agreste had to speak. "Mari there is an open seat behind me."

It took all of herself control to not facepalm. "I prefer the back"

"I'll spar you for it"

Now she couldn't hide the smile in her eyes or the one playing on her lips "Okay Agreste, but what makes you think you'll win this time?

"Fencing uses lighter swords" he answered mumbling the end.

"Wait why are you challenging the new girl?" a boy in a red hoodie and two-toned hair asks.

"Probably to redeem his honor from our last bout" she was now smiling. Maybe this won't be all bad.

"Then I get the next challenge" the same boy answered confidently.

"Alright" she agreed "Name your sport, um..."

"Sorry Le Chien Kim" he supplied. "Swimming freestyle"

"You're on" a devilish smirk on her lips. Afterwards everyone introduced themselves and she sat down in the back.

They spoke with M D'Argencourt about it during lunch and he told them to wait until after school for the fencing club to set up. So, they did. Honestly, the class isn't so bad, just a little pushy, apparently a student isn't here today but should be back soon. When they all went back after school, that was when Marinette saw her.

"Gami" Marinette ran to the girl in a red fencing outfit and gave her a brief hug.

"Mari-hime what are you doing in Paris?" she asked.

"Exchange program" Mari waved it off.

"Your brother?"

"Not interested" Mari responded.

"So why at the fencing club?"

"Agreste challenged me."

She looked towards the blonde and gave him a pitying glance. "Then you should both change"

"Right" Mari called as she went to the locker rooms. Her uniform was a red bodice with black sleeves and pants, but the gloves, shoes, and socks were a shade of green so dark it appeared black, the stitches on the entire thing were in golden thread. Both her saber and helmet were a combination of black and gold.

They both got into positions when Marinette heard her.

"This is going to be a slaughter" and Gami was right.

Faster than anyone could blink Mari had scored a touch before little Agreste even moved.

"Huh and here I was hoping for a challenge. Agreste" she turned away from him and faced Kagami "Match?" was all she asked, and the girl stood and faced Mari.

Facing Kagami was like fencing Damian. Both are powerhouses and decisive, but Mari's strength was in speed and agility. They met each other strike for strike, she is probably one of the few civilians that may be a match for her and her brother. By the end of practice, she was offered a spot on the team which she accepted.

To little Agreste's dismay Kagami offered to show her around Paris, to which she had agreed.

---

One-month Mari had to settle into her new class. She made fast friends with Le Chien, after their swimming match where she also met a girl named Ondine, Alix Kubdel was next she is competitive with a need for speed, side note never let her meet Jason. Max Kante and Nathaniel Kertzberg were also added to our little group. She met Luka Couffaine while wandering Paris for inspiration, they became fast friends, and she designed the costumes for Kitty section as well as their Demo Album cover. The final and most shocking, apparently, addition to their group was Chloe Bourgeois. Along with Kagami her small group of friends were unshakeable and for the next four years will be thankful for them.

After that one month, a weasel entered the class. Her name was Lila Rossi and everything that came out of her mouth was a lie. Honestly, Mari wouldn't give her a second thought but then the strikes against her grew.

Lila's first mistake was lying about her best friend, Jon, or in reality about Superboy. Oh, she was in a relationship with him. Sorry but Jon is super bi, but leans towards men more, like a walking romantic mess that was a golden moment when he figured it out. The same can be said when it finally dawned on Damian when he figured out for himself. As the amazing sister that she is of course she would tease those two. But the teasing and cooing only escalated when the two started dating. So ya not buying that he took you out, much less as Superboy.

Lila's second mistake was threatening Mari in the bathroom. Please if your going to threaten someone make sure you aren't being recorded. And second don't threaten a Wayne, especially an Al Ghul turned Wayne. So, Marinette recorded every lie, every threat, and every reaction. If she were going down not even the Devil himself would think to help her.

Unfortunately, it had a rather annoying side effect. Little Agreste kept pulling her aside to try and make peace with the liar.

"Please Marinette, can you stop calling out Lila" he repeated for the up-tenth time . They were on their way to dinner about two months after Lila rejoined the class. "Just take the high road"

They were in the hallway outside of the dining room.

"No" Mari stated as calmly as she could. As they both walked in, Mme. Sancoeur and M. Agreste were already inside.

"Why? Her lies aren't hurting anyone"

"Not hurting anyone" she spoke finally turning towards the blonde "What unicorns and rainbows paradise do you live in?"

"Wait, what?"

"Nino almost didn't enter his script for a contest because Lila said she would get someone in Hollywood to help produce it" she answered "It took Max, Nathanial, and I almost an hour for him to submit it on the thought it couldn't hurt"

"Okay that's one"

"Alya's reputation as a reporter is plummeting. She doesn't fact check and believes Lila solely on the idea that 'Lila wouldn't lie to her'. Where Lila uses her blog to spread her lies."

"Yes but no one believes everything they hear or read.”

"Really" Mari arched her brow, Alfred would be proud "then explain how most of Paris believes you and Lila to be an item"

"Mlle. Wayne came to explain" M. Agreste finally spoke.

"Oh, most of Paris believes that your son is in a romantic relationship with Lila Rossi" Mari spoke calmly as she opened her phone and pulled up the post from Alya's blog to show the screen.

"What?" the confusion was clear on little Agreste's face as he also pulled up the blog. The meal for her was quite quick but M. Agreste held back little Agreste.

Mari was sketching in the quiet of her room latter that evening when she heard a soft knock at the door. She opened the door and there stood little Agreste fidgeting.

"I'm sorry I never liked how Lila hung off of me but that was harassment, then I realized that's what I've been doing to you I am so sorry. You probably hate me for how I acted, and I understand if you can't trust me or forgive me and I'm sorry." He spoke so fast and barely breathed as he turned about to leave, but he stopped when Mari spoke.

"Okay. Redo"

"What?" he asked tilting his head.

"Let’s start over" she smiled.

"So, you forgive me!"

"No, I am not forgiving you" he looked saddened "I will hold you accountable, but I am, willing to start a new chapter."

"Okay” he looked a bit relieved.

"Hello. I am Marinette Wayne." she extended her hand to shake his.

"Adrien Agreste" he smiled shaking hands. "I'Il get out of your hair then." he sent a small wave that she returned and left.

---

Okay so maybe I exaggerated a bit, but Lila did make these past three and a half years a living pain. Mlle. Bustier fought to keep their class for all four years. The only addition was Kagami in the second year of Mari’s exchange.

But here she was sitting in the back with her friends waiting for the last class of the day to start. Then it happened Principle Damocles and Mlle. Bustier walked in.

"Mlle. Wayne" Damocles called.

"Thank the gods" Mari stated packing up her things and she walked down. "I would say it was a pleasure but that would be a lie" Mari just finished speaking when Alya decided to open her mouth.

"Where are you going class hasn't even started." Alya smiled trying to get Mari in trouble, but neither adult did anything.

"If you really want to know because it seems you've forgotten. I am a foreign exchange student from America, where I will be finishing the final term." Her words must have made some sense to their one community brain cell because they nodded, and she left.

Marinette flew back to Gotham and oh was this going to be great.

Of course, when she landed Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, and Catwoman were making mischief in the airport. She recorded a video of the Bats stopping them, of course they were monitoring it because of her flight but I digress, and Nightwing lecturing them while Batman looked so done. Along with Jay-Jay or really Red Hood taking Mari's phone and taking a selfie with her, her hair was in braid tucked into a black beanie with a pair of red sunglasses. A halter top that had a golden rod yellow X on it. The top quadrant was red, and the rest was back. A black sweater lined and faded to red at the bottom. Comfortable black and red leggings with black flats. She posted the videos and picture captioned 'Back in Gotham. Home Sweet Home! Hood give me back my phone.' on her public account, before even exiting the terminal.

Her class will be here in about two weeks and stay as long, but right now she need a good stretch.

She found Alfred and loaded up her bags into the car and jumped in, told Alfred, transformed, and portaled out. As soon as the portal closed, she was in the middle of a huge hug from all her brothers. Patrol wasn't too bad, there was a run in with the Riddler and a separate incident with Killer Croc but that is a light day in Gotham.

After patrol was mostly filled with junk food, video games, and movies with her brothers.

Going back to Gotham Academy was like she never left. In a way she didn't, as every break she made sure to spend some time with her friends, dragging Damian with her. She would constantly text or video chat with them. To the extent that they knew about Lila and her class, almost as well as her family.

Two blissful weeks of quiet and patrols filled with teasing and bets was amazing. Yes, she will miss patrolling with Nightrunner. Yes, he is part of the extended Bat clan, but it is different with her brothers.

---

Three days granted that was longer than Marinette gave the class to avoid a villain attack. Of course, it had to happen when they were visiting, WE. Dick had volunteered to lead the tour, mainly to get more evidence, but Mari wasn't there. Since she was on break, she decided to take lunch for her brothers. The cafeteria food was good but still, and Tim would probably be holed up in his office.

She was in a blue collared button up tucked into a black skater skirt. A black and indigo letterman Jacket, black glasses frames and blue heels finished the outfit.

"Nettie?" Dick asked when she entered the cafeteria.

"Brought you lunch." Dick's face lit up.

"You are a god send"

She giggled as he took the food. "Not exactly but close."

"You going to force Timmy to eat"

"Yeah. Is he still in his office?"

"Should be"

"See ya at home Dicky Bird" she turned and found herself facing her class. Most of them registered she was there and glared at her seemingly guarding Lila from her sight, her friends noticed her so she sent a wave to Kagami, Chloe, Kim, Alix, Nathanial, and Max.

Getting Tim to eat usually proves a challenge. Mostly because he has one hand glued to a coffee mug and the other on his work. Yet when you make an entire meal into finger foods that are perfectly bite sized it is a breeze. She was going to leave when both Tim's and her phone shot an alarm. It was from Dick 'WE 2 Face' In a flash Mari transformed and waited for Tim, opened a portal, and fell into the lobby.

The two of them took out the goons and restrained them before turning towards Two Face.

"The word on the street is that you and the bird are dating, and you know the Bat." Two Face spoke out to everyone, "Let's hear what other secrets these lips will spill." A gun was held up, presumably to the teen's mouth, but neither Red Robin nor Scarlet could see.

He was clearly holding a teen hostage, and that was when they saw the two hanging sausages, Lila. For the first time since Mari had known her, she was quiet, or at least silently whimpering.

"So, who is she dating?" Scarlet asked yoyo in hand pointing at Lila.

"Robin" she gasps.

"What!?" Both of them yelled before Red Robin started again. "Crap when did I get a girlfriend. Scarlet please tell me this is just a hallucination! I swear if this is, I won’t drink a single drop of coffee for a month!”

Scarlet however was barely standing doubled over with laughter. "She’s a little young for you don't cha think."

"Not helping" Red Robin was in full out panic pacing back and forth trying to comprehend what was being said.

That was when Lila seemed to find her voice again "I'm dating Robin not you."

"Wait, What?" Both vigilantes snapped out of their laughter and panic respectfully. They shared a look and fell to the ground laughing. Two minutes later Batman and Robin showed up. Scarlet and Red Robin were now on their feet but still laughing. No one not even Two Face moved because as everyone knows, Robin is taken and no one will be getting between those two, much less a girl.

"Robin" Batman nodded and to the two laughing teens, Robin nodding in acknowledgement.

"No need B" Red Robin finally stopped laughing.

"Hey Birdie when did you get a girlfriend?" Scarlet asked fully knowing the answer already.

"Tt. Don't be idiotic Scarlet."

"Then why is she saying she is?" Two Face now had the bat fam's attention.

"Who are you?" Robin asked the girl pinned between Two Face’s arm and gun.

"Apparently the girlfriend you never knew existed before three seconds ago." Red Robin supplied, now fully enjoying the shock on his brother’s face.

"Is that why you two were laughing like idiots?"

"Well yes" Scarlet spoke up then whispered 'Voyage, Venom' and Two Face became frozen in place.

Lila was now glaring at Scarlet as she began to yell "What the hell. Why didn't you do that sooner!"

Scarlet snapped her fingers and pointed at Lila "Oh now I remember you" she semi shouted getting the attention of everyone in the lobby. "You’re the girl from Paris who said she was dating Superboy." Lila now seemed to significantly pale.

"Are you saying this girl has claimed to have dated both Superboy and I" At this point both Scarlet and Red Robin had moved and were physically holding back Robin.

"Scarlet" Batman called.

"On it" 'Voyage' "Hey Supes your boyfriend needs you" Superboy then took Robin in a hug from behind resting his chin on top of Robin's head. Her brother now willingly refraining from moving to stay in his boyfriend's arms, while Red Robin left to talk with Commissioner Gordon.

"Miss you are lucky no one was injured, and we were here to take action, your fantasies are just that. Let's go" Batman had lectured the girl who could have been switched with a statue at this point.

All the vigilantes left, and Mari sure as hell made certain Tim finished his food. In fact, he hadn't even changed out of his Red Robin uniform, so Mari guarded the door. She only left when he finished eating, knowing he could now fully react.

Mari was walking out of the elevator and into the lobby and you could practically see the change that occurred. Most of the class were huddled together, her friends were to the side along with Adrien, and Lila was practically glued to the teacher.

She spotted Alfred with Dick not far from her friends, so she decided to go over and speak with her friends.

Unfortunately, that just caused hell's gates to open as she approached, she heard. "You knew she was a liar didn't you" Alya yelled at her friends and Agreste, but Alya was specifically yelling at Agreste. That made her blood boil, so she stepped in.

"Yes, but you didn't believe me when I told you, you didn't believe them either" Mari was now standing between her friends and the blogger. "Agreste didn't want to rock the boat and how you were all treating me it is no wonder."

"Ya but she is a liar, and you are a bully" Alya retorted.

"Was I a bully. Or was that what you were told by the liar" Alya now went quiet. Of the almost four years she was in Paris there was never any proof she bullied Lila. No bruises, no destroyed items, just she said claims. "Yes, I called her out on her lies but that was all. You all were the ones who acted on her words that I bullied her with no proof and bullied me to ‘teach me a lesson'. I have more than enough evidence however, on most of this class and the liar, for cases of assault, slander, defamation of character, and destruction of property."

By now everyone in the lobby was watching this unfold. The class seemed to pale and attempted to shrink in on themselves. Lila and Mlle. Bustier seemed to try to become one with the floor. Her friends were to the side struggling to not laugh along with Dick and Chloe you traitor put down that phone.

"Miss Wayne" an employee came up to Mari seemingly afraid to get her undivided attention.

"Yes" She smiled, becoming Gotham's sunshine that everyone knew, allowing the employee and the other Gothamites to relax.

"The CEO has locked himself in his office and the Board meeting starts in three minutes" the employee fidgeted with the tablet in his hands. That snapped her into professional mode.

"Dick is the tour done?" she held out her hand to take the tablet, opened it and started going trough the documents.

"Ya"

"Go dig Tim from his office. I'll deal with the board."

"On it"

She quickly looked up to her friends "Sorry guys we should catch up later." She walked away the employee on her heels giving her more information.

A whistle was heard next to the group. "Damn I feel bad for the Board members, Mars is on a warpath and not her usual professional warpath" Dick said to Alfred.

"Reminiscent of Master Bruce even" was Alfred's response.

"She really is a Wayne"

"Master Richard"

"Yes Alfred"

"I believe it is in your best interest to retrieve Master Timothy as Miss Marinette is on a 'Warpath' as you say" Alfred barely finished as Dick began to sprint to the elevator. Alfred only sighed as he followed the eldest Wayne child, leaving very bewildered and mortified Parisians in their wake.

[zosonils-art]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Relationship: Ferb Fletcher & Phineas Flynn

Characters: Ferb Fletcher, Phineas Flynn, Perry the Platypus (Phineas and Ferb), Linda Flynn-Fletcher

Additional Tags: Autistic Ferb, Autistic Phineas, autistic phineas is more implied and could also be taken as adhd but he has both anyway so, Autistic Meltdown, Autism, Sensory Overload, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Illustrations, Canon Continuation, Fix-It of Sorts, i think????? i don't frequent this goddamn website i don't know, Brotherly Love, Crying, some of the crying is me

Summary: A stressful day pushes Ferb past his breaking point, and Phineas feels that he has a responsibility to set things right. Takes place immediately after Ready For The Bettys. Was supposed to be a simple continuation fic but got wildly out of hand. Ph*n*rb shippers fuck off this isn't for you.

---

as you’ve probably figured out if you’re following my main, i recently wrote my first fic since i was about 13! it’s available on ao3 at the link above, but you can also read it on tumblr by clicking the readmore on this post! i put a lot of effort into this and it took a lot of courage to post, so feedback is greatly appreciated!

"Mom! Guess what Ferb did!"

Phineas bursts into the kitchen energetically, still buzzing with adrenaline from the day's adventure. Ferb follows a step or two behind. Linda turns her attention from the freshly baked pie in her hands to her sons, although Phineas is too beside himself with excitement to consider whether or not she's paying attention. "He made a secret tunnel, and a spy headquarters, and a villain's lair, and a hover jet shaped like Perry- tell her, Ferb!"

Ferb doesn't match Phineas' enthusiasm. In fact, at the moment, he's sick to death of it. He prepares to launch into the explanation he's been trying all day to give. "Actually, I-"

"Wait a second," Linda interrupts, eyeing the boys with suspicion. "Why are you two soaking wet?"

The interruption is just too much for Ferb. He doesn't even process the question, just lets out a harsh shout of frustration. Phineas recoils - Ferb almost never shouts. "I give UP!" Ferb yells, his voice shaking on the last syllable, and before either of his surprised family members can respond, he turns around and storms off, his destination betrayed by the distinct clunking rhythm of stairs being stomped on too hard and the sound of a door slamming upstairs.

For a moment, the kitchen is silent. Linda recovers before Phineas does, her eyes narrowing in disapproval. "Young man, that is not how we talk to each other in this house!" she calls, setting the pie tin and her oven mitts down on the kitchen counter and following Ferb's path to his room. Before she can make it to the doorway, though, her progress is halted.

"Mom, wait!" Phineas pleads. He's finally caught onto what's been going on all day, and although he's still only half processed it, he knows he doesn't want Ferb to be in trouble for it. He frantically tugs on Linda's arm to draw her attention. Once he's sure that she's stopped, he withdraws his hand (he's still wet, after all, he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable), but sidesteps around her to put his tiny body firmly between her and the doorway to the living room. "Mom, please don't be mad at Ferb, it- it's not his fault! I'm sure he didn't mean anything by it, he's just..." Phineas' voice trails off briefly, but he forces it back into action, complete with the most serious expression he can manage. "If you're gonna be mad at either of us, it should be me, okay?"

At first, Linda returns Phineas' gaze with suspicion, then her face softens with realisation. She crouches down to her son's eye level, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Phineas, did something else happen today?" she asks, the anger gone from her voice.

Phineas hesitates, dropping eye contact again. He's almost certain about the cause of Ferb's outburst, and he can't help but mentally beat himself up for it to a degree. "Well, Ferb's been trying to tell me something all day, but he kept getting interrupted by our spy mission, and I guess it must have been really frustrating because he hates being interrupted but I didn't realise and-" he pauses to breathe, and shudders as he inhales as if on the verge of tears - "and I should have asked at some point but I just kept getting distracted and I didn't even realise how upset it was making him but-"

"Phineas," Linda says gently, and he gladly accepts the invitation to cut his rambling short. His breathing is shaky, but he doesn't cry just yet, even though his emotional state has nosedived in barely a minute. After giving him a moment to snap back into focus, Linda continues. "Phineas, honey, it sounds like this has just been a misunderstanding. On my end, too," she adds, regretting having snapped at Ferb earlier. Phineas nods with a nondescript mumble of agreement. Although he still obviously isn't looking, Linda gives him a reassuring smile anyway, accompanied by a gentle squeeze of his shoulder. "Thank you for telling the truth, sweetheart," she praises him.

"Mmh," Phineas mumbles, tugging at his shirt collar. He tends to fiddle with his shirt when he's nervous or overexcited. It doesn't hold a candle to bouncing his leg or flapping his hands, as far as stimming goes, but it's a lot easier to do while someone is touching you. "I just should've realised what was up earlier, then he probably wouldn't have freaked out..."

He finally glances up again, and the look his mom is giving him tells him that he should drop the argument, so he stops. Linda ruffles his hair affectionately, leaning forward to reach all the way behind Phineas' oddly-shaped head, and flinches at the unpleasant reminder of how waterlogged he still is. She stands up, flicking her hand dry. "I'm sure he knows you didn't mean to hurt his feelings," she reassures Phineas. "Why don't you dry yourself off and then go talk to him? Which reminds me," Linda motions towards the puddles tracked all over the kitchen floor, "why are you two so wet?"

"Oh, we fell in Isabella's pool," Phineas answers matter-of-factly. He isn't quite back to his usual blindingly sunny disposition, but the panicky tremble in his voice has at least disappeared.

Linda smiles, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, that I believe," she says. She'd tactfully decided not to comment on whatever that secret spy headquarters spiel was that Phineas had been getting worked up over, but she suspects his latest imaginary game took the boys to Isabella's backyard and ended up having some real-life consequences. "Oh, hi, Perry," she adds, as the platypus in question waddles into the kitchen.

Perry responds with his familiar chatter. Phineas leans down to pet Perry on the head. "At least you've had a stress-free day, huh," he says, then leaves for the bathroom. Perry stares at him blankly.

---

Ferb is having a meltdown.

He knows what this is, of course. He reads every textbook and blog post on the subject he can find, just in case it helps him make some more sense of himself. If he misses one, Phineas will no doubt have found and memorised it himself for the same reason, and will gladly rattle off anything new. Knowing why there's a raging storm beating at the inside of his head, however, is entirely different from quelling it. By the time he reaches his bedroom, he's trembling so violently that he can barely stand. He stumbles to his bed, pushing his hands down into the mattress to keep himself on his feet.

It's like feeling every feeling from every second of the day all in the same moment, and it hurts. So much is happening in his head that he can't even isolate a single thought, let alone process what it means. Is he angry? That'd make sense, sure, but his mental state isn't exactly conducive to deductive reasoning at the moment. Is he sad? Scared? Something else entirely?? He can't tell what emotion or mixture thereof it is, only that it's hurting his head, and he wants to get it out but he doesn't know how. He's struggling to breathe now, his arms shaking with the effort of keeping his body supported, and as he draws in a desperate shuddering breath Ferb feels something wet in his eye and then on his face, and he remembers that his entire body is wet and he hates it. It's cold, and his hair is sticking to his face and uncomfortably close to his eyes, and his clothes cling to his body oppressively and he wants to tear them off and stop feeling everything. Instead of doing that, he forces himself to breathe in again and looks around the room frantically, hoping to find something other than absolutely everything to concentrate on.

His eyes land on Phineas' bed, and although his vision is blurring as the panicky tears pour down his face, he recognises the shape instantly. Is he mad at Phineas? Should he be? He should be, right? If Phineas had just stopped to listen to him for once, he wouldn't be here with the world ending inside his brain. Another violent wave of emotion sends a shock through his whole body, and Ferb is still in no state to identify it, but he gets the message. He doesn't want to be angry. Not at Phineas. In fact, he doesn't want to feel anything he's feeling at the moment. Not the turbulent assault of everything inside his head, not the hammering rhythm of his heart trying to beat its way out of his chest, not every tiny thing that touches his skin or the light from outside that still feels blinding through the curtains or the muffled sounds of conversation downstairs that he doesn't have room in his brain to translate into anything but more noise.

Sensory overload is another term Ferb knows, and it's another one that doesn't really help to know in the moment. The feeling of anxiety that's been growing in his chest since that morning finally becomes too much for his body to handle, and he collapses on his bed, weakly gripping the blanket for support. Burying his face in his covers blocks out most of the sunlight, at least, but it doesn't significantly improve his mood. He shivers, partly from cold thanks to still being uncomfortably wet, partly from the sobs making his whole body convulse. (When did those start? He doesn't remember.) He uses the last of his physical strength to pull himself fully onto his bed and curl into himself, trying desperately to calm himself down.

...

It's not working. Why isn't it working?? It's as if every effort to steady his breathing just makes him cry harder, every attempt at a calming thought being shattered into a thousand anxious ones by the merciless torrent of everything whirling around in his mind. Ferb is suddenly hyper-aware of how empty the room around him is, and it makes him feel helpless. It's the first feeling he's managed to connect a name to with absolute certainty this whole time, and it's terrifying.

If he was making any noise before in his attempts to control his breathing, he's stopped now. No sound escapes him as he lies in place, too preoccupied with the overwhelming barrage of thoughts in his brain to move. More than anything, Ferb wants his brain to just shut off. Everything in his mind blends into a horrible white noise that won't stop, threatening to drown him in static.

Through the raging mental cyclone, he just barely hears the knock at the door.

Phineas waits a moment before entering his room. He wants to make sure Ferb has time to process that he's here. A few seconds pass, then he opens the door slowly so that it doesn't make any sound. A stab of guilt hits him when he sees Ferb curled up on his bed, visibly distressed. He's facing the opposite wall, but the way he shudders as he breathes makes it obvious that he's crying. Phineas feels his heart sink. He'd really hoped it wouldn't be this bad.

"Hey," he says softly. Ferb grips himself tighter. Just a minute ago, Phineas would have been the last person he wanted to see, but now his desperation for comfort outweighs any lingering hints of animosity. He doesn't object to his brother's presence, so Phineas gently closes the door and walks over to his side of the room. He sits on the bed, watching Ferb to see if he reacts negatively to the shift in weight distribution, and tenses up slightly at how damp the blanket is. Of course, Ferb wouldn't have stopped to dry off on his way up here. A closer look confirms that while a lot of the water on his body has run off and soaked into his bed, Ferb is still almost as wet as he was when he arrived home. Phineas frowns - that can't be comfortable, and it's probably making him feel even worse. "Are you okay?" he asks.

Ferb curls into himself even more instead of asking. The question is so frustratingly rhetorical that he almost reconsiders the possibility of being angry, but the idea still scares him, so the feeling passes. Fortunately, Phineas understands the unspoken 'obviously not' with no further input, and continues to talk. "I'm really sorry about today," he begins. "I know you don't like being interrupted, and I should've realised that it was making you feel bad but I just wasn't paying enough attention and- and I'm sorry, because it's kinda my fault you got so upset," he apologises, not realising that he's holding back tears until he stops to breathe. He wills himself not to cry. He's here to try and make Ferb feel better, not guilt him into forgiveness.

It takes a second or two for Ferb to process what Phineas is saying. It's a struggle to drag the words through the confusing whirlwind of everything still rampaging through his head. Eventually, after a great deal of mental effort, he shakes his head in response. Perhaps he was angry before, he still can't tell, but he definitely isn't now. He can't manage anything beyond the simple gesture, but it's not the first time he's been utterly uncommunicative, so Phineas understands the meaning as well as he needs to: it's not your fault.

"Th-thanks," he stutters, although Ferb's acceptance does little to settle the crushing feeling of responsibility. "Next time you can speak I'll let you tell me whatever it is you needed to, okay? I promise." He smiles a little. "No more secret agent business to interrupt you."

The last sentence sure prompts a reaction from Ferb - he rolls over so that his face is entirely buried in the blanket and makes a frustrated noise without opening his mouth, his body shaking with some mixture of anger and physical strain. Phineas inhales sharply and recoils, no more prepared for an audible outburst from Ferb than the first time. "Hey, what's wrong?" he asks, already speed-testing possible answers in his head. "Did you not have fun today? Of- of course you didn't, that's why you're upset, but I thought you did a great job on the spy mission! It was really cool." He's trying to be reassuring, but Ferb just shakes harder, seemingly becoming more aggravated rather than less.

Phineas tilts his head in confusion. "Ferb? Ferb, it's okay, I-I'm sorry. Did... did it not go the way you planned?" he guesses, searching increasingly frantically for any change in Ferb's body language. "Hmm... oh, were you not finished building it yet?" He thinks back to Ferb's numerous attempts at speaking to him throughout the day, hoping that he'll find some clue that makes everything fall into place - and something clicks in his brain. He deflates a little at how painfully obvious the realisation seems in retrospect, with a soft "Oh." Sighing at his own ignorance, he directs his voice to Ferb again as he says, "You didn't actually build all that, did you?"

Ferb sits up slowly and turns to Phineas with his signature deadpan glare, the silent, biting sarcasm undermined significantly by the tears still falling from his eyes. Phineas hums concernedly. "Is that what you were trying to tell me?" he asks. Ferb gets partway through rolling his eyes before giving up and returning to the fetal position.

Phineas sighs sadly. He hates seeing his brother cry. There's nothing he wants to do more than pull him into the tightest hug he can manage, but he knows Ferb won't appreciate being touched in this state, so he opts to fiddle with his shirt again to keep his hands busy. "Who do you think did build that stuff?" he asks. Ferb doesn't care. On any other day, a secret spy lair being hidden under his house would be cause for immeasurable excitement, but after the day's events he's thoroughly sick of thinking about the subject. Phineas picks up on Ferb's antipathy towards the question and, sensing that it might be a sore topic for some time, decides not to bring it up again for a while. He'll satisfy his curiosity sometime when it doesn't come at the expense of Ferb's comfort.

An uncomfortable silence falls over the boys. It's broken when Ferb suddenly sniffles loud enough to make Phineas jump, sits up again, and halfheartedly tries to wipe the tears from his face. "Oh geez, hold on," Phineas says, leaning over to rummage through his short pockets. He eventually pulls out a wad of tissues, somehow unaffected by the earlier impromptu dive into Isabella's pool. He offers them with a gentle "here you go" to Ferb, who takes a few silently and scrubs at his eyes.

While he still doesn't feel good by any stretch of the definition, Ferb at least doesn't feel completely awful anymore. What was once a violent hurricane in his mind has receded enough that he can focus on the world around him without breaking down, at least for the time being, and he's left feeling just drained. He balls up his handful of tissues and tosses them at the bin under his desk. The ball makes it to Phineas' leg before unceremoniously bouncing to a stop. Phineas picks it up and throws it the rest of the way to the trash, standing up to do so.

Rather than sit down again, he kneels down and pulls out one of the drawers conveniently built into the bed. Ferb watches inquisitively, still too out of it to immediately catch onto what's happening. Phineas rummages a little before finally pulling out a pair of pyjamas, suggesting, "You should dry off and change your clothes." He pauses to think. "Can you make it downstairs to the bathroom by yourself?" he asks. At any other time, it would be a silly question, but Ferb is always exhausted after a meltdown. The visible effort it's taking him just to stay upright isn't lost on Phineas. Ferb ponders the question, then gives a tentative nod. He's definitely shaky, but he really wants to change into something dry.

"Great!" Phineas smiles encouragingly. "Should I bring the usual stuff to the living room? Your bed's probably not gonna feel comfortable until it dries out." Ferb glances down at the unmistakable damp silhouette of where he had been lying earlier and nods again, more confidently. He slowly gets to his feet, first pushing against his bed for support, then grasping the hand Phineas offers him. He lets go once he's certain he's regained his balance, and only then does Phineas hand him his pyjamas. "I'll come meet you downstairs, okay?" Phineas says. Then, pulling at the bottom of his shirt, which is still a bit soggy despite his best efforts to towel it off, he adds, "I should probably change into something dry as well."

---

Ferb rubs his eyes as he comes out of the bathroom, his drenched clothes swapped out for his much more comfortable pyjamas. He's stopped crying, it seems, but he's still feeling sensitive enough that the light from outside bothers him. He's relieved to discover that it's much darker in the living room - Phineas must have been here already. The curtains are drawn so that the lamp on the end table is the only light source in the room, softly illuminating its surroundings with a pleasant warm glow. He doesn't have the energy to analyse the entire room, even in these far more bearable conditions, but his attention is drawn to his favourite weighted blanket folded neatly on the couch. He sits down and drags the blanket over him, struggling a bit with the weight, but relaxing once he feels its reassuring pressure on his legs.

It's as he's settling into his position on the couch that Phineas enters with an "Oh, there you are, Ferb!". Perry is firmly but comfortably wedged under one of his arms, like a fuzzy teal football or loaf of bread, and seems altogether unbothered by his position. Ferb gasps quietly at the sight of Perry, his eyes brightening momentarily, and reaches out for him with various soft noises of urgency. Phineas wastes no time in setting Perry down next to Ferb, and the platypus reacts with a gentle, almost soothing chatter. Ferb instinctively mimicks the sound under his breath, and Perry responds with a nearly identical noise. Ferb echoes it again, slightly louder this time, and his face lights up with a weak smile, the first one he's managed all day.

Taking this as a sign of progress, Phineas sighs with relief as he sits on the sofa. He makes sure to maintain a respectful distance from Ferb, who's running a hand through Perry's fur as they echo the same low growling noise back at each other. (It pains Phineas not to join in, but he senses the two have gotten themselves into a groove that would be rude to interrupt.) Ferb's smile fades almost as soon as it appears, but he seems much more relaxed after the change in clothes and scenery. His hair is sticking up in every direction from being towelled dry, and Phineas stifles a laugh at how silly it looks. The back-and-forth chattering eventually dies down, and it's only then that Phineas continues. "Mom's gonna make you some tea, and she says if you aren't feeling better by dinner you can eat in here if you want," he says. Ferb turns to him and raises a thumbs-up briefly before returning his hand and focus to Perry.

Phineas quietly watches his brother for a moment before speaking again. "Do you want me to stay?" he asks. Exactly how sociable Ferb is while he's coming out of a meltdown varies. He almost invariably needs some time on his own to mentally reset, but sometimes it helps if someone he trusts is there to reassure him for a while first. In Phineas' experience, asking is always the best way to tell.

Ferb hesitates for a second, then surprises both of them with his answer, which is to turn and collapse into Phineas' lap with one arm hooked over his legs in a sort of pseudo-hug. Phineas tenses up, not sure how to react. He cautiously puts an arm around Ferb, in a comforting gesture that doesn't fully subject him to the overwhelming sensory experience of a true hug. Ferb doesn't fight it, just repositions himself so that he's lying down with Phineas as a makeshift pillow and sinks further into the gentle embrace. Phineas laughs softly. "Okay, I guess you do."

This is nice, Ferb thinks. Definitely an improvement over violently sobbing alone in his room. Perry must be feeling relaxed too, because he climbs onto Ferb's stomach, circles a few times, lets out one more chatter, then flops down and goes to sleep, purring gently. Phineas giggles at the platypus' behaviour, and Ferb's shoulders shake in silent laughter - his blanket absorbs enough of the sensation that it just tickles. Watching Perry doze off reminds him that he's still exhausted, despite the positive change in environment, and his attempt to stifle a yawn fails. He's still on high alert, and he knows he won't be sleeping for longer than a few minutes until the emotional clutter completely drains from his mind. With that said, both the blanket and Perry weighing down on him make for a pretty cosy combination, and he finds himself fighting to keep his eyes open. Maybe just a moment of rest will be good for him.

Before he knows it, his eyes are closed, and he's powerless to prevent himself from drifting off. Phineas accepts his new career as a pillow without comment, simply adjusting his right hand so that both his arms are positioned protectively around his brother. Being trapped in place for the time being doesn't worry him. Ferb won't mind being stirred awake when their mom arrives with his tea, and until then Phineas can easily occupy himself with thoughts of what to do tomorrow. Besides, he can subject himself to a few minutes of quiet if that's what Ferb needs. What kind of a brother would he be if he couldn't, right?

Ferb half-consciously brings a hand to Phineas' wrist, as if it'll float off if he isn't holding on. He can feel his brain shutting down, and he welcomes the change. The last thing he's aware of before his consciousness finally leaves him in peace for a moment is the sound of Phineas' voice, promising him, "You're gonna be okay."

[samanthalightning]

She's Got A Date-EoWells X Allen!Reader- Part VII

Part VI

Summary: Wells takes you out on your very first date together.

Warnings: Slight Smut?? Oral (m! receiving)

A/N: I know, it took a century for this part to happen. I'm sorry, guys. Writer's Block is some crazy shit. Anyway, here it is xxx

***

You begged him. You did with all your might. But damn, he's one tough bastard to break. Throughout the whole car ride you asked him where he was taking you. You were basically pestering him to the brink of his existence, but he's stingy with the details. Which only annoyed you and made you more anxious. It seems like he took pleasure in being the only one who knows all the details.

"The place isn't batshit crazy, right?"

His eyebrows furrowed, as he took a left turn on Fifth. "No. Why would you think that?"

You shrugged. He wasn't telling you anything, and you just thought that maybe the place isn't good, so he wasn't saying anything. You ran out of ideas, you gave him every fancy restaurant you can think of. Even the one that's outside the city, but it's a no, and a no. And just wait and see.

"So, where are you really taking me, babe?" You huffed exasperated.

He tore his eyes from the road and faced you, an enigmatic smirk formed on his face. That worries you as much as it weirdly turns you on.

"You'll have to wait and see, my love," he murmured. You pouted, putting on puppy dog eyes, but he didn't work on him. He merely chuckled and turned his eyes back on the street.

You glared at him, before realizing he's just the impossible with secrets. It's so annoying. You looked through the tinted windows, scanning your eyes around the busy street for the possible restaurant, but the majority of it was just stores and a fancy hotel ahead of you. You pondered where in the hell is he taking you?

You noticed that you were getting near and near to the fancy hotel. Like he was heading for that particular direction, which is weird. Then, a light bulb above your head turned on. There is one place that he might be taking you. But it's impossible, certainly impossible, absolutely impossible. Nope. You refused to believe it.

"Harrison, are you taking me to The Fiat?" You asked with a tinge of disbelief in your tone. He didn't respond, but you caught the side of his lip turned up to a subtle smirk. Instinctively, you swatted his arm. "Harry!"

His smirk grew wider, still not responded, which made you hit him again. He raised a hand surrender, laughing. "Okay, okay. I am taking you there."

You gasped. The Fiat is the fanciest restaurant in Central City and you have never stepped foot on it, and you wouldn't even dream of it. It's located on the rooftop of a hotel, Venanzzi— rumoured to be owned by some mob family in the city, but it was never confirmed. The price of food there is half of your paycheck, and it's damn hard to get a table there— well, try impossible.

"How were you able to snag us a table there?" You questioned.

"I know a guy," he said quietly.

Sure, he knows a guy, but knowing Harrison Wells, there's more to it than he tells, especially if he's being oddly calm about it. You decided to set it aside for a while. You gazed at the 36-story hotel from the distance, still quite in shock. You can't believe it. You're going on a date with the greatest man in the world— in your opinion— at the fanciest restaurant in Central City.

He pulled over up in the driveway. He switched off the engine, and you unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to get out, but a quick and gentle knock on your side of the door stopped you, and you jolted a bit when it was suddenly opened. Appeared a man, who seemed to be valet, holding out his gloved hand to you. You were reluctant at first, glancing to him, to his hand, to Wells, who gave you a nod, then back to his hand. Hesitantly, you took it.

"Good evening, miss," he politely greeted, assisting you as you climb out of the car.

"Thank you," you murmured shyly. You motioned to the backseat for Wells' wheelchair. "Can you help me with the—Oh." You were cut off when he strode to the driver side, taking out his wheelchair, and helped Wells exit the car. What surprised you is how flawless his execution was. It wasn't your typical 5-star hotel trained employees, no— it was like he had it memorized.

"Good evening, Dr. Wells," he said, as he sat him on the wheelchair gently.

"Good evening, Reggie." You were surprised that Wells knew him. Perhaps he had been going here prior to the explosion. Or maybe after that.

Wells handed him the keys, and moved towards you, grabbing a hold of your hands, and you gave him a shaky smile. Reggie stifled a nod with a polite smile, before he got in the car and drove out of the driveway. You kind of expected a weird look from him by seeing you with Wells, but he was cool about it.

"Let's get inside." He squeezed your hand, urging you to get inside.

The moment you entered through the big glass door, you were mesmerized. Your feet continued to walk, catching up with Wells, but your eyes; they wandered around the room. You have never been in place like this before. It's huge, enough to make you feel small. So luxurious and elegant with it's white walls and columns with gold trims, the marbled floor was covered with red carpet, making you feel as though you're a royal. A gigantic crystal chandelier hung up on the waffle-like ceiling in the center of the lobby, illuminating the whole room. It's so beautiful— and fancy. You wouldn't deny that you may slightly feel like Cinderella entering the ballroom, except this one is just the lobby.

You approached the front desk, one of the receptionists immediately caught you, so quick to put on a smile, and greeted you a good evening. Exactly what Reggie did. And like Reggie, he didn't give you a weird look nor was there a flicker of judgement in her eyes. Perhaps, this isn't her first time seeing people like you and Wells together. Perhaps, it's what she's thinking, but you appreciated that she was polite. And perhaps, God decided that you are free from the inevitable judgements for one night.

"We've been expecting you, Doctor," she spoke, you heard her fingers clicking against the keyboard, looking at the screen of the computer in front of her. She glanced back at you, putting on a smile again. "Here's your key, sir." She handed him a sleek black card. Your eyebrows furrowed, a little puzzled. Although you haven't stayed in a hotel as luxurious as this one, you're not ignorant to the fact that is a key to a room.

"Have a nice night." You smiled and you both thanked her.

You turned and went to the nearest elevator.

"Did you book a room?" You whispered to him.

He nodded. "Yes. Yes, I did."

You blinked, you were loss for words.

While standing and waiting in front of the elevator, you surveyed him with pursed lips. A room and a table. That friend of his is one powerful guy to pull off that kind of stunt. It's impossible to get both of those things booked in less than a day simply because he 'knows a guy'. He's so mysterious; he opens up to you, and you think you know him well, only to be surprised by another thing about him every time. You don't even know where he lives, and yet he's stays at your apartment almost every night. You found that unfair. It feels like you're always anticipating the other shoe to drop.

The door opens. You entered the empty elevator.

"Floor 35, please," he ordered the man.

You cocked your head to one side. "We're not going to the restaurant?"

"Not yet. Our table isn't ready yet." He informed me.

You felt the elevator moved, taking you higher and higher. You zipped your mouth, but been itching to corner him, because you know, deep inside, whoever that friend is doesn't exist— if he has friends. The man is so full of secrets and wonders that he became the basic definition of it.

You got your fast. They didn't lie about having a fast elevator on their website. Wells led you out to the hallway, and you just followed him straight ahead, not really sure where you were heading. When you're at the end of the hall, you halted in front of room 3501

He inserted the key card and opened the door. Ever the gentleman he is, he motioned for you to get in first. You obliged and stepped inside.

You expected to see a bed first, maybe some couches. Just a typical Deluxe Suite. But you didn't expect to be actually welcomed by the actual living room. You slowed down in your tracks and your jaw dropped to the floor. The room isn't your typical suite, that's for sure.

Like a literal child, you got a bit overexcited. You took the liberty and toured the whole room, leaving Wells by himself at the living area. You checked everything, mouth hung open the entire time. It's twice the size of your apartment. There's a freaking kitchen that's better than your kitchen at home. A dining space that can sit six people— and a separate bedroom, a spacious one. And you can't even get started on the bathroom.

You are astonished beyond words. It's crazy to think how much money and power that 'guy' has to experience this kind of luxury.

You walked back to the living room, where Wells is waiting for you.

"I assume that you like it?"

You scoffed, looking at him incredulously. "Like it? This is a freaking penthouse— I love it!" You squealed.

He grinned amused.

"I'm glad you like it," he replied.

You walked to him and sat on his lap. You faced him to gaze and he gazed back, but yours were full of wonder and a hint of suspicion— his was subtly playful, but you know he's wondering what your thinking is. You put your finger on his chest, drawing circles on the fabric.

"So," you began, tone slightly firm. "Who is this 'guy' you know that he is so powerful, he can get you— not just a room, I may add— but a penthouse suite."

His expression didn't even falter, despite being heavily hinting that you don't believe him. He just merely, so slightly shrugged.

"Just some guy." He replied flatly.

You gave him an 'are-you-serious' look.

"Come on, babe— it's so obvious," you insisted, tugging on the lapel of his jacket like a child.

"Fine. There is no guy," he exhaled, surrendering. "I'm a shareholder,"

You blinked. "What?"

"I'm a shareholder," he repeated.

You heard him the first time. You were just making you hear him right. You searched for any sign that he was joking, but none. Although it seems impossible because his face is the most stoic face you've ever seen, you know him.

Your mind went blank, but tried very hard to process it all. Wow. You stuttered for words, and Wells patiently waited for you to form a coherent sentence.

"H-how come I don't know about this?" You were bewildered.

He smirked smugly. "It's not something I regularly tell people,"

You chortled. "You do know that you don't really tell people anything regularly, right?" He chuckled at your little comment, but you knew he secretly agreed to it.

Involuntarily shaking your head in shock. Damn. It all makes sense now. The valet who knew exactly what to do, despite never seeing you before— the receptionist that is so sweet and just accommodating. It's not just because he's some famous guest. How come you never knew this? And how come that he never took you out when he's literally a stockholder at some fancy hotel?

"Well, our table isn't able for about at least an hour. What do you want to do?"

An hour earlier is such a Wells thing. 10 minutes late is considered late for him.

There's many things to explore, and you did just that. You wandered around again, still in utter disbelief. Then you stumbled upon the biggest mini bar in a hotel. Filled with various beverages, wines, wine glasses with chips and chocolates— and expensive nuts, which you didn't know existed. You raided it and plopped down on the couch, turning on the TV. You scrolled through the arrays of movies, until you found one that matches your current mood.

You figured to stick with the classic Julia Robert movie: 'Pretty Woman'.

You did feel a little bad for taking the majority of the food and being a total slouch right now, but they're just sitting there, and Wells does have a share in this place, so might as well take advantage of the good stuff.

Quite some time into the movie, you realized that you were alone. You scanned your eyes around the whole room, but Wells is nowhere to be found. It's like he just suddenly vanished.

You noticed the double doors that lead to the balcony were open. He must have gone there when you went on tour. You got on your feet and strode outside. Cold and muggy air of Autumn quickly greeted you, making you shiver.

You found him at the other end of the balcony. Gazing at the distance, seemingly under a deep thought. Probably in his own little world that he rarely shows to the real world.

"Finally got annoyed with me?" You went to him, crossing your arms.

His head snapped to you. He was a little startled, but quickly recovers by flashing you a smile.

"Impossible." He turned his eyes back to view. "Just taking in the view. From this perspective the whole city seems small."

You sat on his lap and followed the line of his gaze, laying eyes on the city's skyline. It took your breath away. The moon's full tonight, the black canvas of the sky was blanketed with stars. You never viewed your city from this perspective before. It was like those paintings and pictures you've seen before, but it's real and much more impressive, and a sense of strong nostalgia flooded your senses. Homes and buildings, parks all perched up. The twinkling lights are dazzling and golden, adding a dramatic and scenic flair to the view. Even you can see S.T.A.R Labs up there. The street is very busy, but you can't really hear the hustle and bustle. It's peaceful up there. And he was right— everything is so small. Everyone is so small, reminding you of how little the people and furniture were in your dollhouse.

"It is," you sighed, finding yourself lost with the sight as well.

You looked at Wells over your shoulder, and realized that he's looking at you. Eyes gleaming with admiration and such intensity you couldn't quite place. It made you feel a little self-conscious.

"What?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Have I told you how you look absolutely beautiful tonight?"

You flushed, couldn't help the smile forming on your face. You tried to play it cool.

You shook your head. "Not enough,"

"Well, let me make it up to you." He kissed the exposed skin on your shoulder. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on," he said meaningfully, looking into your eyes deeply.

You swear to God, your cheeks must be in the darkest shade of crimson with all his compliments.

You narrowed your eyes at him.

"You just want to be kissed, don't you?" You questioned.

He chuckled, but nodded. "Yes, please."

This is one of those moments where you roll your eyes and swat him chest, and he'll laugh it off. But it's just different tonight. Perhaps the new scenery and the mesmerizing view have some sort of an effect.

You relented. Titling your body to face him, your lips captured his thin addictive lips tenderly. Quickly, escalated into a heated kiss. Your lips parted, allowing him access as his hand cupped your cheeks, and the other roamed your body up and down from behind. There was a switch, activating the desire in the pit of your stomach. You can feel it starting to burn through your veins, your fist bunched up in his shirt.

You said it before as a joke and you'll say it again: you both have the hormones of a teenager, always ready to go at it anytime. You teased him that his sex deprivation for the last 10 years is the reason for it.

You pulled away for a moment to catch your breath. Your forehead against him. Your eyes locked, a sudden flash of lust and mischief appear in your eyes.

"Remember last night?" You inquired, breathing heavy.

"Hmm," he hummed cautiously.

"Want to make it up for you as well?" You wiggled your eyebrows, making him chuckle.

"We only have 20 minutes before our reservation,"

"There's many things we can do in 20 minutes." You kissed him again.

Although you're ready for it, you don't really want to take off your dress and waste the hours you spent getting ready before the dinner. Maybe a little touch wouldn't hurt. You just need to satisfy your needs.

Out of nowhere, you realized that you rarely do this, and you never really thought about it. And besides, it will rile him up.

You pulled away once more, catching him off guard. You got off his lap and stood before him with a seductive smirk. His face showed how utterly puzzled he is now, but carefully analyzing you.

You hands on his torso, sliding down to his thighs, as you kneel down on the ground, confusing and surprising him even more.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"Just watch," you ordered.

Your fingers crawled back up, fiddling with his belt buck. You glanced up to him, your smirk growing wider. He looked a bit reluctant as he watched, knowing what was folding before him.

"Y/N—"

"Shh,"

With the zipper undone, you rolled his pants down to his knees. You took a hold his half-hard length, slowly pumping it. His breath hitched. You felt the excitement rushing through you, the goosebumps erupting on your skin. Perhaps being out there makes the whole experience more exhilarating. But yes, you are thankful that you are 35 floors up, at the corner side of the building, and there's a wall blocking you from the room beside you.

You took the head into your mouth, your tongue swirled around it. You heard him hiss very quietly and sighed as if almost in relief. You licked the dripping pre-cum, moving down to the base, you pumped him faster.

Your other hand caressed his balls, you worked on your rhythm, bobbing your head up and down, His fingers found their way through your hair, bunching them up tightly, but carefully as he didn't want to ruin your hair.

You looked up, half-lidded with those eyes, showing him how well you're taking him, even sucking harder, deeper and faster. It started to show how much restraints he was putting on. His breathing becoming uneven, his teeth dug in his bottom lip, his eyes rolling back.

You were starting to feel yourself getting wet. So aroused, you moan and it vibrated through him, adding another wave of pleasure.

You get a grunt and hiss here and there. That still doesn't satisfy you. You want to drive him crazy, have him writhing, losing control of himself.

Before you could ever do something, his phone rang loudly.

He didn't seem to be bothered by it and answered the call and you decided to continue sucking him off.

"Cisco?" He panted, licking his dry lips. "Yes,"

You smirked smugly internally, remembering the fond memories of two nights ago. Payback is a bitch.

You moved deeper, you could almost feel him at the base of your throat. His pitch went high at one point, although he regained control almost immediately. He shot you glare, but you just did it again, and again, and again, driving him wilder each time. He tried to keep up with Cisco, but what you're doing is torture. The sweetest torture.

You love it though. Watching him unravel and get flustered before you as he tries his very best to keep it together. You just realized how much you crave it and goddamn it's so much.

"Cisco, is this a life and death situation?" He questioned the poor boy. "No? You see, I'm quite preoccupied at the moment, I'll call you back later regarding..." He trailed off, forgetting what the young man had said to him.

"Yes. That. Goodbye," he said, ending the call. "You're naughty little minx, aren't you?"

You hummed in reply and you knew what it was going to do to him. He gripped your hair tighter, pushing you down to deepthroat him. You are never one to walk away from challenges, so you let him do it for as long he wants, fondling with his balls even more. But you're only human, eventually you started choking, you retraced, tears streaming down your cheeks.

He quickly wiped them, looking at you apologetic for losing control. You nodded at him to say you're fine and went back to your old pace.

Thank God for waterproof mascara. You knew you were crying tonight, but in this way.

You felt him twitch inside of you, so you pumped him faster, until you felt the warm liquid hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed it confidently. You slowed down on your pace, before pulling away with a pop.

Wells' forehead was covered with beads of sweat; he was breathing heavy, seemingly lightheaded, but grinning like an idiot. He was undone, thanks to you.

You get on your feet, straightening up your dress. With a proud smirk, you leaned over him, inches away and whispered,

"I'm gonna go touch up. We wouldn't want to be late, right?" You pulled him into a passionate kiss, letting him taste himself in your mouth, before pulling away and walking back inside with your hips swaying, leaving him on the balcony to recover.

You gotta give to him. By the time you finished fixing your make-up and hair, he composed himself as if nothing had happened.

You were like idiots though, sharing a knowing smirk from time to time while waiting for the elevator to reach the floor.

Abruptly, a ding caught your attention. The doors opened, there were at least 4 people, you smiled politely at them as you got inside.

You met eyes around and you caught a middle-aged woman with her white streaked hair in a slick bun and blue dress looking at you from the back of the elevator. It would seem like she's accompanied by her husband, who didn't seem to care at all. Her eyes are just filled with pure utter disbelief and disgust almost to see you and Wells together. No one had given you that look before, even with the valet and the receptionist.

You turned away, bowed your head down, moving closer to him and holding on his hand tighter.

Finally, you reached the restaurant. You quickly stepped out getting as far as possible, although you know that she's gonna dine in the restaurant as well. But her table may be far, far away from yours. Here's to hoping.

Upon approaching the entrance, you were greeted by another receptionist. They seem to never run out.

"Good evening, Doctor, miss," he greeted. "This way, please." He gestured to you to follow him into the restaurant.

The lights were low in a romantic way. Half of the table isn't even occupied, you wonder how in the world it's always full.

Wells just never runs out of surprises. It is a whole new level of amazing. It's unlike any rooftop restaurants you saw before. The walls are made of glass, slightly curved as if mimicking the shape of a plane. It gives a panoramic, 360 view of the city.

The receptionist stopped by the table in the center of the room. You've reached your table, as it seems. The kind man pulled out your chair for you and you thanked him, before he strode away to walk back to the front desk.

Your eyes scanned your eyes around the room, fiddling with the hem of your dress. Majority of the people inside are just business men in a meeting of sorts.

Your head tilted up slightly, and a quiet gasp slipped from your lips. There's a skylight perfectly placed above your table. You get the sight of the sky above you; the stars, the moon's light refracting through the glass.

"Wow. This is amazing," you murmured, eyes twinkling with awe.

"Not as amazing as you, of course,"

You rolled your eyes, bowing your head again.

You took the menu placed on your table. You skimmed the contents, as it seems you will be having a 5-course meal, 4 of them, excluding the wines, you can't pronounce even if tried. Tuscan Steak for the main course— he really wanted a steak. A good one.

It didn't have the price on it and that worries you a bit.

"So, does the Venanzzi crime family really own this place?" You asked, not even pausing to think about it. You just wanted a conversation and real story.

Wells laughed, shaking his head. "No. They don't. The real ones are in Italy, managing another hotel there."

Well, you thought that killed the excitement and possible shadiness of this place. On the bright side, he isn't involved with the crime family.

The waiter came shortly, already with your first course: Carpaccio di anatra, which is apparently duck with it's perfect wine to match.

You dig into the food. It melts the moment it touches your tongue, a hint of pepper and lemon popped in your taste buds. You moaned, slouching your shoulder.

Wells quietly chuckled at your reaction and continued eating his food.

"Why'd you name it The Fiat?" Thought randomly popped in your mind. It doesn't really have a meaning that you can think of. It sounds foreign.

"It's an Italian sesquiplane that served before and during World War II. I consider it one of the deadliest biplanes during that time. Although it's a bit outdated by two modern biplane the Allied Powers had." He explained. He lifted his fingers, pointing to the windows. "The architectural design doesn't resemble the original, but I figured that if Paris has L'oiseau Blanc, Central City should have The Fiat."

You never knew he was that keen on history. Or planes.

"That was a nice history lesson," you commented.

"Thank you," he replied.

The night carried on. You were genuinely having fun. Laughing with all the stories and jokes you exchanged. The food is all astonishing; they are something your taste buds have never quite experienced before. The steak is so good, and you really failed that steak.

You could feel the wines you consumed kicking in your system and it's pretty amazing. Of course, as you get intoxicated, you start getting flirty. Your jokes are getting a bit more crude, and your eyes are sultry eyeing him.

Let's just say he chokes and coughs a lot.

You cleared your throat suddenly, getting Wells' attention. He raised an eyebrow as if asking you what's wrong.

You grinned cheekily. "How are you recovering, by the way? I forgot to ask."

Caught off guard, he started coughing, quickly taking a sip of his drink. He averted his face from you, looking down, but you can see the hint of blush on his cheeks.

"Very well, thank you for asking."

"Poor Cisco. Twice in his life he got scared," you remarked.

He exhaled. "Let's hope he didn't get the faintest idea of what was happening with each of his calls."

You giggled, nodding in agreement.

By the time the dessert appeared on your table, you were pretty overwhelmed and almost full after all the food, but you can't stop taking more bite. You wonder how rich people do this. There's so much food to eat in one seating.

But alas, your seductive charm didn't halt for a second. Each bite you take of the tiramisu, you moaned sensually. You are more than satisfied to see him red and taking a sharp breath when you meet eyes.

"I know what you're doing," he spoke.

You smirked.

"Good."

"You know that's gonna get you in trouble, right?" He finally glanced up at you. His pair of ocean eyes were filled with concupiscent darkness.

"Why do you think I do it?" Your voice dropped into a whisper.

His brow raised. "What you did earlier isn't enough?" He asked and you shook your head. "You will be the death of me." He stated.

"I hope not. Excuse me, I'm just gonna go and touch up,"

You got on your feet, and walked to the nearest restroom. On your way, you saw that the same woman in the elevator was just right behind your table. She scrutinized you again and you did your best to ignore her.

You stare at yourself in the mirror, reapplying your lipstick. Really, there's no point to reapply them for you know what's gonna happen after this dinner, but you just wanted to.

The door opened, snapping your head towards it. Revealing the same woman. This time she spared you a smile. Again, you felt an unsettling feeling in your stomach, though you smiled back to be polite.

She stood beside you, seeming to be reapplying your make-up as well. You both stood in silence, doing your own thing, then she spoke.

"Is that your Dad?"

You didn't get it at first, but you realized she meant Wells.

"Uhm, no," you muttered.

"Oh, your uncle then?" She inquired some more.

"No," you replied again, more firmly this time. "He's my boyfriend," you announced.

"Oh." She blinked, although you knew she's hardly surprised about that. "Don't you think he's a little too old for you, darling?" She chuckled, trying to lighten her comment.

"Well, age is just a number." You politely countered.

She nodded.

"That is true, but I'm just saying that perhaps someone your age suits you better. It's quite, well, inappropriate." She said. "Men like him— they'll get bored and they'll find another girl to mess with. He'll just break your heart darling." Her tone sounded so motherly, masking the criticism with concern.

Your jaw hardened as does your fist. You are in utter disbelief how a person could be so invasive and judgemental. She doesn't even know you or Wells.

It took every ounce of your being not to snap and stay calm.

"Well, I don't think so. He's perfect for me in every way and he loves me as much as I love him," you said. "And I don't mean to offend you, as much as you're offending me right now, but as someone I don't even know, I don't think that you have a say in our consensual, happy relationship. Have a good night."

Her face contorted into a scowl and shock.

You collected your things and stormed out of the bathroom.

Your blood is boiling, as you went back to your table. You tried not to be obvious with a sudden change in your mood, but it got to you.

"Let's go," you demanded.

"What's wrong?" He sounded concerned.

You shook your head and forced a small. You were too obvious.

"Nothing. Let's go?"

He was suspicious, but nodded anyway. You both left the restaurant and headed back to your room.

***

I'm not the only one who hates that Karen, right? Anyway, I'd appreciate if you share this and give it some love. Thanks!

Part VII: Angst Ending | Part VII: (Sort of) Happy Ending

[ikevamp-annalyne]

Annalyne Sonata [IkeVamp OC]

Hey guys! I am so verry happy to finally being able to officially introduce my IkeVamp OC, Annalyne! ٩(●ᴗ●)۶

This is a very long post, but I hope you won’t be discouraged and will enjoy learning a bit more about her, and the story I imagined for her (^.^)ゞ

I also commissioned the MOST AMAZING ARTIST EVER @lemonsqueazie​ for drawing my baby OC! ღවꇳවღ She is my favourite artist, and also an amazing human being that I love very much. She is so attentive to what you tell her, always doing everything to meet your ideas and make the best art for you! I highly recommend to check out her blog @lemonsqueazie​ alongside her Instagram and her DeviantArt post about her commissions! You can also find all the infos here.

NOW, ON WITH THE OC! (๑ゝڡ◕๑)

Name: Annalyne

Last name: Sonata

Nicknames: Anna, Nana, Lyn

DOB: June, 19, 1995 (25 years old)

Origin: French

Languages: French, English, Spanish, Italian, German, Japanese, Korean

Height: 160cm (5.25ft)

Sexuality: pan

Job: freelance fashion designer, blogger, gamer

Passions: fashion, drawing, eating, baking, cooking, videogames, reading, music

Phobias: larvas and maggots, bugs (except ladybugs)

Lover: Leonardo Da Vinci

"Heh? What is this? Kinda like a storage room?"

Annalyne is a very chill woman, taking things at her own pace and working hard towards her goals and dreams. When she doesn't work, she becomes a lazy slug chilling with a good book or videogames -part of why she is also a gamer-.

Her most prominent traits are definitely: her kindness, her humour -made of bad puns and references-, her caring side, her clumsiness and her supportive behaviour. Number one fan of her family and friends.

She will always go out of her way to make her loved ones feel loved, supported or just important. She can also easily throw hands if needed. No one messes with her or her close ones without getting punished.

She has a hard time trusting people. It looks like she is close to everyone, but she hardly confides in people. It takes a hecking long time to build a relationship of trust with her -due to some childhood traumas-

She is strong-willed and -way too- a tad stubborn. But she compensates by being very sweet and cute. She can be very anxious but eating calms her, explaining her chubbiness. Also, count on her for helping everyone.

She is very good at cooking and baking, and loves making things herself. She loves dogs, but honestly, she loves almost every animal ever. She has a talent with them, understanding them beyond reason: animals love her.

"Call me the PUNisher."

She is easily triggered by disrespect, racism, homophobia, bullying and abuse. She can kick your ass off if needed, being very rude and violent when angry -she already broke the arm of a racist, and slapped Shakespeare...-

Comte is the one engaging conversation with her, asking her if she likes this painting. She is hyper excited talking about it and Comte cannot help but giggle, finding a Da Vinci's fangirl in modern days being pretty rare.

How she met Comte:

Annalyne lives near Paris and absolutely loves museums. Therefore she spends a hella lot of time in the Louvre, especially contemplating Da Vinci's works. She meets Comte in front of Da Vinci's painting Saint-Jean-Baptiste.

They spend some time debating and chatting over Leonardo Da Vinci's life, works of art and other controversies. He smiles a lot throughout the whole chat, since he wonders how his old friend would react.

How she ends up in Comte's mansion:

Comte bids her goodbye after they have finally seen Mona Lisa from up close. She thanks him for the delightful conversation, happy she has met someone as knowledgeable as him on her favourite historical figure.

She is taken aback, quite surprised, and thinks the mansion is a storage room. Maybe the man is actually an employee? She is curious though so she walks through the hall and stares at everything in awe.

When he leaves, waving his hand, his pocket watch falls and Annalyne picks it up. She chases after Comte all over the museum and sees him going through a door. She opens it and ends up in the mansion's hall.

Who she meets:

While discovering the hall, she stumbles upon Leonardo who's asleep. She doesn't want to wake him up but God, she stares for a good minute at the sleeping man. "I have never seen such a gorgeous man..."

She walks past him and continues looking for Comte. But then, Napoleon appears and asks her who she is, and what she does here. She tells him she wants to find the gorgeous blonde man to give him his watch.

He offers to give to him in lieu of her. But she is wary of him, a stranger. And Comte appears, the noise having caught up his attention. He recognises Annalyne and is surprised she is there. She gives him the watch.

The first dinner:

Comte gladly accepts the watch and asks her if she wants to dine with him and the residents of this mansion. Mansion? She stares at him, dumbfounded, and frowns. "Mansion? Isn't that a storage room or something?"

Comte giggles and promises to explain it all over dinner. Her trust for Comte and her love for food makes her accepting the offer. How surprised she is upon seeing all these people gather around a huge table!

She sits down and gets served by Sebastian, under all the surprised looks. Comte then proceeds on explaining it all to her: how all the residents in there are famous historical figures, and how she is the past.

How she reacts:

She is surprised, but she believes in timelapse, magic, etc. So she just stares in surprise and shock but is soon overexcited to meet all these people who changed history and inspired her throughout her whole life.

She will ask a bunch of questions to each of them, questions she has always been curious about, like the rumours and alleged controversies. Even when she hears about not being able to go back in her time, she is strangely chill about it.

"Well, there's no helping it! I will come up with a lie when I go back there!" But she will write letters and leave them -along jewels of hers- in places she thinks her friends or family could find them in the future.

Meeting her soulmate:

Sebastian shows her her room and then tells her to explore the mansion if she wants to. What she does! She then remembers the man sleeping in the hall? He must be a historical figure as well, but who can he be...?

She wants to know so she goes to find him and stumbles upon him, nearly falling on top of him. He seems awake since he is sitting on the floor. He had heard her footsteps so he smiles at her. "Well, who do we got there, Cara Mia?"

She smiles at the Italian nickname and tells him everything about her being here. He is surprised she is so chill about it but he smiles and introduces himself. "Well Cara Mia, nice to meet you. I'm Leonardo Da Vinci."

Upon hearing the name, her eyes widen and her breath catches in her throat. She stares, her heart beating faster every passing second. His smile is intoxicating and she cannot help but blush and stutter.

"W-well, nice to meet you, Leonar- huh Sir Leonardo? How, how should I call you?" He laughs."Leonardo is enough, Cara Mia." He smiles and pats her head before standing up. "Watch yourself, Cara Mia."

Her reaction upon the vampiric reveal:

After having talked with Comte and decided to stay in his mansion, she actually wonders how he could resurrect them. She decides to ask Sebastian, her new colleague, and he just shows her the Rouge and Blanc bottles.

"What's that?" She asks, pretty curious."Take a look and you will understand." She first goes for the Rouge and recognises the metallic smell of blood. She stares at Sebastian. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"They are all vampires. Except I, who is human." She widens her eyes, sueprised, and then goes "Aaaaah, that's how he did! Makes sense!" She smiles. "Is Comte the one who transformed them all or no?" "He did, yes."

"So, is he like, a pureblood vampire? A superior vampire who can turn humans into vampires?" "How do you know about this?" "Oh please, Sebastian. Cinema, animes, mangas and books are full of vampires."

Sebastian stares at her, bewildered. "And you are not afraid? They could easily feed off of you, even kill you." "Oh please Sebastian, they're more like puppies than wolves! If they were capable of this, you wouldn't be here!"

"Plus," she says while flashing a big dumb grin. "If they wanted to eat me, they would have already bitten me and emptied me of all my blood. They are not dangerous." Sebastian is shocked at how chill she is.

Her relationships with the residents:

She gets close to every resident ofthe mansion pretty fast, especially since she is not pushy, funny, kind, calm and knowledgeable on a lot of matters. They all grow a soft spot for her, even shyer and harsher residents.

Napoleon: they bond over cooking and baking. Also, since she is French, she can tell him about the impact he had on her country.

Mozart: music is common ground for them. She knows a lot about him and will sing for him, being allowed in the music room.

Arthur: writing sessions together, in his room or hers. They tease each other a lot and she is quick to react to his flirting.

Vincent: they are very close, bonding over drawing and painting. They talk a lot about art and have art sessions.

Theodorus: she doesn't let him win with his harsh replies and he likes that. She is strong and adores Vincent: he likes her a lot.

Isaac: she isn't pushy and gives him room so he likes talking with or teaching her a few things. They often meet in his room.

Jean: he likes how pure she is but she doesn't let him avoid her. She will do anything to befriend him and he gives in.

Dazai: sharing writing ideas brings them closer. They also laugh a lot because they are both airheads amd chaotic walking memes.

William: she likes his work but hates him. She will always avoid him, or shoot sharp daggers glares at him.

Comte: the father figure. She loves going to him to talk or when she needs some calm, and having tea together.

Sebastian: always laughing and teasing each other. She will flick his forehead when he assumes things for her.

Her relationship with her soulmate:

She is a Da Vinci's fangirl so of course, she is a mess around him. At first, she just blushes a lot, stutters a bit around him and she fangirls when he is not around. "Omg I can't believe I witnessed him sketching!!!"

They bond very easily since they both love arts. And Leonardo is very curious about her fashion style, her job, and basically how the world works in modern days -she spent an entire night talking about phones-

One day, he finds her sighing in her room: "what's the problem?". "Ah, nothing, I'm just, not comfortable in Comte's dresses. I'm more into trousers or skirts from my time." He is curious so she tells him about modern day fashion.

"Ah, so women wear pants and shirts. Whatever they want." She nods excitiedly."Yeah, and I hope one day men will be able to do so as well! Wear skirts and dresses and heels. But toxic masculinity is still pretty deep..."

"Wait for me, Cara Mia" and he dashes off the room, to come back later with a stack of shirts and trousers. "Here, take these. They're mine but for now, it will do. Tomorrow, we're going shopping for you."

And they do go shopping the next day, buying loads of men clothes alongside jewels and shoes. Also, they buy fabrics, needles and everything for Annalyne to sew her own clothes. He loves seeing her so happy.

She spends the next days adjusting Leonardo's clothes and the ones they bought to her chubby curves. And Leonardo surprises her by wearing a dress. They go have dinner like this: her in men's clothes, him in women's clothes.

Legend says every resident nearly choked themselves of either shock or laughter. And Leonardo and Annalyne really enjoyed it a lot and decided to do this at least once a week -Leo enjoyed the dress, actually-

The purebloodness revelation:

She catches very early on that he is a pureblood, without him even telling her. She is extra sensitive so she kinda feels auras and saw how Comte and Leonardo's eyes are similar. His genius made even more sense.

"Leonardo. Are you like Comte, a pureblood vampire?" She asked him while they were shopping for fabrics. Leonardo nearly fell out of surprise. "What are you talking about, Cara Mia?" "Well, you know..."

"Same eyes as Comte, genius who can do anything, super strong and intimidating aura. Open-minded as if you've already seen everything, and laziness that can be explained by already having done everything possible..."

He stares at her and then laughs, patting and ruffling her hair. "You're awfully clever and intuitive, Cara Mia. Yes, I am a pureblood. Does it change anything between us? "HELL NO!" she shouts. "But I've got questions!!!"

She drowns him under questions on everything he's done, seen, lived. They spend almost all of their time together, teaching each other about their lives and their knowledge. Residents are jealous of the Leonardo monopoly.

How it "ends" between them:

She is a strong woman and will go back to her time. But she promises Leonardo she will find him, right after returning to her time. He asks her what day it was, when she entered the mansion. "March, 15th, 2020."

When she leaves, while everyone is crying, Leonardo calculates. "Okay, gone for a month in her time, so she'll be in the Louvre in April, 15th, 2020. Ah. My birthday." He smiles. Almost 200 years, but it will be so worth it.

When she passes through the door, she is back in her time. Asking a guide what day it is. "April, 15th, 2020". The day they agreed upon, and Leonardo's birthday. She smiles and then proceeds to rush out of the Louvre to look for him.

But then she passes in front of Saint-Jean-Baptiste. Her favourite painting. A tall and gorgeous man is standing there, in a blue shirt and blue jeans. She feels it. She goes to the man, pats him on the shoulder, and asks: "Leonardo...?"

The man turns around, a huge grin on his face, bright golden eyes shining with love: "Was about time, Cara Mia..." she cries and throws herself at his neck; he spins her, crying as well, burrying his face in her neck.

"I missed you so much. Never do this again. 200 years was worth it but it was too long." She is a mess while crying. "I, I pwomiss Leo, I will neba leaf you again-" he laughs at her messy face. "Look at you, silly girl." He kisses her.

"I want you to see how much I love you in my eyes. They speak on my behalf."

Trivia facts:

She has a tiny water spray bottle she labelled as "Holy Water". Whenever a resident smiles or laughs, she opens it and "collects" their happiness. Thus, when one is talking shit about himself, she sprays the water on them.

"There, you have been blessed with Holy Water. Now love yourself or I agressively hug you." -the mistake on the label,on "thoughts" is intended, as it is is a mix between thots and thoughts, bitch thoughts she's gonna spray away.

She hates Shakespeare, Faust and Vlad. Whenever they pass by the mansion, she grabs the garden hose she labelled "Garden Hoes" and splashes water on them. "Oh no, you walking sin, stay away from my babies!"

She eats A LOT and puts shame on Theo when it comes to eating sweet things. They have pancake-eating competitions -and guess what, she wins-. She will be snacking 24/7 when nervous, anxious, sad and basically under negative emotions.

She listens to every type of music. She really enjoys any kind of rock music, and is also very knowledgeable on classical music. She likes to dance on Kpop and sing on Disney songs: her favourites are definitely I’ll Make A Man Out Of You and Why Should I Worry -in French-

She used to practice martial arts so she can beat the crap out of anyone being a little sh*t with her or her loved ones. She also has a very scary aura when furious, leading to most people just running away from her wrath.

She loves gossiping with Arthur. Whenever she knows about some rumours, or when she needs to talk about something that upset her, she goes to his room with coffee or tea. They both irradiate chaotic gossiping energy when together.

She is the mom friend, and becomes the mom of the mansion. She already told Jean to “get his bottoms in the living room to eat with all of them”, else she was going to kick his butt so hard he would be unable to sit or practice fencing.

All the animals LOVE her. Chérie is missing? She is cuddling with her in the patio. Lumiere is not under the bed? He is sleeping on her laps while she reads. King is nowhere to be found? She is playing with him in the garden. Snow White vibe.

She loves flowers and will put some all over the mansion. She puts one every day in front of every resident’s door, with a message written on a tiny piece of paper, something like: “You are a sweetheart and you deserve the best, keep going, dearie!”

[holidaywishes]

our love story begins...

part seven: our love story begins...

  Summary: You keep your promise to Freddie on the flight from Denmark to Vienna; Wedding planning with your Oma and Opa gets a little stressful and baby Vita is finally welcomed into the world

  Warning: Fluff, some mile high club smut, a bit of a time jump from the last chapter, pregnancy but nothing descriptive

  Author’s Note: I haven’t added to this in over a year and I’m so sorry! I’ve been wanting to continue this story for months but I got caught up in Netflix and Outer Banks and writing those fics and requests and trying to find a job because of being laid off and then just submerging myself in YouTube videos that I haven’t been able to continue this one but I’ve gone back and read the most recent chapter of this series and I’m here to keep going. Because it’s been a year since I last added to the story, the whole pregnancy in this one might be a little jumbled and not so factually accurate -- as in, I’m pretty sure (Y/N) would have more than just a bump at this point and she would be in close to her third trimester and therefore, shouldn’t be flying -- but I know nothing about actual pregnancies so that’s where we’re at. With all the trade rumours constantly swirling, I’m always anxious when I see a new article, post or tag about Freddie and I think that everyone has some of that anxiety as well so I wanted to flood the tags with some fics about the Ginger Goalie. So, I guess what I’m saying is, prepare yourself for a good three or four chapters in this series in the next couple weeks. Lots of love <3 *GIF NOT MINE, DON’T @ ME. FOUND IT ON GOOGLE, SAVED IT, WENT BACK BUT COULDN’T FIND IT AGAIN. LOOKED IN GIF SEARCH AND IT WASN’T THERE EITHER SO 🤷‍♀️*

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

  “We’ll see you soon right?” Charlotte asked as she hugged you goodbye

  “We-”

  “We’ll try,” Freddie interrupted before giving his mom a kiss on the cheek and a hug goodbye, “but we have to go now, Mom”

  “I’ll keep you up to date on the wedding planning and everything” you replied, smiling at Charlotte as Freddie made his way toward the gate

  “We love you both, have a safe flight” she smiled at you before you gave her a hug, squeezing her tightly until Freddie called to you

  “We’re going to miss the flight!” Freddie yelled, forcing you to sigh as Charlotte let you go

  “We’re fine!” you yelled back but when he scowled at you, you knew you had to pick up the pace

  “It’s okay, (Y/N), go ahead. We don’t want you to miss your flight”

  “I’m sorry” you whispered to all of them before you ran toward the gate to meet your fiancé. Once he got you to board the plane, he made sure to quickly hug his siblings and kiss his mom goodbye once more; making your heart flutter and melt all at once. When the two of you finally sat down in your seats, you stared at him with such devotion until he couldn’t ignore you anymore

  “What?” he said, turning his head to look at you, smirking at the look on your face

  “I just love you, that’s all” you said before leaning in to capture his lips in a kiss

  “Sorry,” the flight attendant said as she passed by, “just need to make sure your seat belts are on”

  “Sorry” you laughed, you and Freddie showing her that you had buckled your seat belts and she went on her way

  “You tell your grandparents that we’re coming?” Freddie asked as you got resettled

  “Yes, they’ll be there at the airport to pick us up” you replied, wrapping your hands around his arm as you leaned your chin on his shoulder

  “I love you” he smiled, kissing your nose 

  “I love you, too,” you cooed, leaning up to kiss him and whispered in his ear, “this is a short flight..”

  “Mhm” he hummed, skimming through his phone before he had to turn on airplane mode

  “Freddie...” you said again, biting his ear lobe to grab his attention, “I made you a promise didn’t I?” He finally seemed to clue in to what you were doing but, in his overexcited state, he was starting to draw attention to the two of you as your fingers traced across his chest

  “OH!” he whisper yelled before you shushed him, “Yes. Yes, you did.”

  “So, how do you suppose I keep that promise?” you asked, cocking your eyebrow at him when he finally looked you in the eye, “because I intend to keep my promise...”

  “Kiss me” he blurted out and you scoffed

  “What? No, Freddie. We can’t just...” He interrupted you by placing his large hand under your jaw and pressing his lips tightly against yours until the tell-tale ding rang through the airplane, notifying everyone that they were free to remove their seat belts.

  “Meet me in the bathroom in like 2 minutes” Freddie said hastily before walking away. You bit your lip as you laughed at how giddy he was, eventually unbuckling your seat belt to make your way to where he had told you to meet him. By some miracle, no one had gotten up before you to head to the bathroom, so it seemed like everything was in the clear but now came the tricky task of letting him know it was you who was there -- hoping no one was watching to see what you up to. You knocked on the door twice and Freddie opened the door just enough for him to know that it was you before pulling you in, “what took you so long?” he laughed, making sure to lock the door behind him.

  “I was making sure I wasn’t being too obvious,” you smile, bring his lips to yours as you wrapped your arms around his neck, “honestly, it got me thinking that it would’ve been much easier just to give you a hand job under a blanket...” You laughed when you noticed his eyebrows pop up and he jokingly went to unlock the door. His lips moved across your skin quickly until he nibbled on your collarbone, waiting for that moan he knew all too well to escape you.

  “Come on, baby,” he whispered, “we gotta be quick...” You brought his lips back to yours once more, biting down on his before you turned around to face the mirror, knowing that getting up on the tiny counter wasn’t an option. Freddie gave you a sly smile before unzipping his pants and gliding his hand up your thigh, under your dress, to push your underwear to the side.

  “Fuck” you breathed as he slid himself into you, kissing your neck in the process before he shushed you

  “Can’t let them hear us” he whispered, thrusting into you slowly while you gripped the edges of the sink

  “Shit, Freddie...” you moaned as Freddie pumped deeper inside of you

  “Shh” he repeated, this time placing his large palm around your mouth to muffle the sounds and you looked up at him in the mirror while he continued his movements. When he was nearing his release, he dropped his hand from your mouth to put both on your hips so he could guide you back onto him faster; you watched him as he watched you ride him and you could feel the fire inside you grow a more with each thrust. He caught your stare in the mirror before pulling your back to his chest to kiss you as he fucked you, collecting your harsh breaths in his mouth as he did so.

  “Oh my god..” you said as you came around him and he kissed your shoulders while you got your bearings again. He grabbed some napkins to clean you up, running a few under the water and gently running them across your thighs and your folds. Freddie was always great at after care.

  “Do you think we hurt the baby?” he asked

  “What?” you scoffed playfully and he shrugged as if to repeat the question, “No, Freddie, I don’t think we hurt the baby.” He placed a small kiss on your lips before telling you to wait another two minutes before going back to your seat

  “Got it?” he said

  “Got it.” You giggled, pulling him in for one last kiss before he left. You locked the door as soon as he left so no one would come in, and you decided to clean up a little to make sure that it could stay as inconspicuous as possible. When you finally made your way back to your seat, you made sure to straddle Freddie before you sat down and he grinned at you

  “Don’t play, (Y/N),” he whispered, “I’m very sensitive right now.” You smiled at his words as you got comfortable

  “Guess that means I’ve got you right where I want you.”

xx

  You and Freddie were met with a million hugs and kisses when your Oma and Opa came to pick you up at the airport. It had been so long since you were in Vienna that you spent the entirety of the journey back to their house admiring the city; from the greenery, to the architecture, to the colours of apartment buildings and shops in town, it all made you smile.

  “Oh, I’ve missed it here!” you finally said, curling into Freddie while your Opa continued to drive

  “(Y/N) used to spend every summer with us. Here, in Vienna. Her mother insisted she have culture in her life.”

  “Used to?” Freddie asked, kissing the crown of your head and wrapping his arm around you

  “I got older and so did everyone else. It became less... feasible for me to hop on a plane every year to come here. But we would go everywhere. We’d take day trips to Salzburg and sing the Sound of Music songs. Opa taught me how to swim and row a boat in Hallstatt. It was always all so wonderful.”

  “You two will have to come back and bring little Vita with you” your Opa smiled, peeking back to look at you and Freddie

  “Of course” Freddie responded

  “Our home is always open!” Oma added, making you smile before falling into a comfortable silence with the three people you loved most in the world, absentmindedly rubbing your baby bump. When Opa pulled into the driveway, you were flooded with memories from your childhood of your time of your grandparents home.

  “It hasn’t changed a bit!” you exclaimed as Freddie helped you out of the car and everyone smiled at you

  “Why would we change it?” Oma asked and you shrugged with a small laugh, walking up to the house and letting Opa guide Freddie to the guest room to put away the bags, “you’ve found yourself a good one, Liebe” your grandma said when she noticed you watching Freddie walk away

  “I know, Oma,” you giggled, “he’s going to be such a good father. I just.. love him so much”

  “And he loves you,” she said, “I can tell. I remember when Opa and I were as in love as you two are, you know?”

  “You still are” you countered as she took a sip of the tea she had made, shaking her hands quickly

  “No no no, that’s not what I meant. Of course we’re still in love,” she corrected, “I just meant, I remember what it was like in the beginning. When we first met, our first kiss, our first dates. Our wedding; I didn’t want to be away from him.” You smiled as you listened to the retelling of your grandparents love story and you thought to yourself how much you’d hope yours would turn out the same.

  “What are you two ladies talking about?” Opa asked as he and Freddie came back into the room

  “The kids wedding!” Oma replied and you laughed

  “Ahh yes,” Opa said, he and Freddie sitting down next to you and Oma, “why are you waiting until after the baby is born?”

  “Opa...” you sighed

  “Vita is expected in November,” Freddie started, “(Y/N) is hoping for a winter wedding. New Year’s Eve, right babe?”

  “Right..” you giggled, “but not necessarily this New Year’s Eve. We’re planning it now so that we have everything sorted but Freddie will be busy with the season and I’ll be at home with Vita...”

  “So get married sooner. Before the season starts, before Vita comes” he exclaimed, “you could do it here! In Vienna!”

  “Oh, I don’t know, Opa...” you hesitated, “we would have to send out invitations and get catering and I don’t have a dress yet...”

  “All things that can be done” Oma added and you tilted your head

  “And you don’t need all that fancy stuff. Catering? Expensive tuxes and gowns? Nah,” Opa interjected, waving his hand, “you can wear Oma’s dress!” You started to say something but the two of them seemed to be planning the whole wedding themselves

  “But the thing is...” Freddie interrupted, rubbing your back as he could feel your stress rising, “we want the fancy stuff. We appreciate you wanting to help and offering everything to us, we do. But we want the gowns and the tuxes and the fancy wedding.” You looked up at your fiancé as he explained his side to your grandparents, a feeling of ease washing over you as he continued to rub your back, and you smiled to yourself before noticing your grandma notice you

  “Are y--” your grandpa started only to be interrupted by your grandma

  “We understand, completely.” She smiled at both of you and, with a simple nod of her head, Opa seemed to take note and he fell silent as well. Shortly after that, the four of you went to explore the city before taking in a movie at the Haydn Cinema and stopping for a bite to eat on the way home.

  “I’m sorry” you said to Freddie when you both crashed onto the mattress

  “For what?” he asked, stroking your hair as you nestled into his side

  “All the wedding stuff. I should’ve known my grandparents would be like that”

  “Baby,” he said softly, “all grandparents are like that. They love you and they want to make it easier on you and Vita. That’s all”

  “You’re sure? Because it seemed to me like they wanted us to have a shotgun wedding” you laughed, looking up at Freddie, “I mean I love them. They’re two of my favourite people on this Earth. But they are... old-fashioned.”

  “They love you. They will do whatever you want them to,” he said and you scoffed before settling yourself under the covers, “and so will I.”

xx

  It had been three months since you spent the week in Vienna with your grandparents and your due date was fast approaching.

  “So, how’s the wedding planning going?” your sister asked as the two of you were shopping

  “Oh, great, Lauren, yeah. Everything’s all settled. Did you not get your invitation for next month?” You replied sarcastically as you were forced to waddle through the Toronto streets

  “I’m sorry,” she laughed, “I was just joking. You know, breaking the silence.”

  “I am supposed to be having a baby in two weeks and I have been so irritable these last few months that planning the wedding hasn’t been on my radar.”

  “It can’t be easy with Freddie away so much either” she added and you huffed at her, asking if you could just sit down for a minute

  “I mean it’s his job,” you said, “we both knew it would happen. And at least our place is comfortable for me to be while he’s away but, yeah, I’d rather him be here then.. not...”

  “He’s gonna be here when she’s born right?”

  “I don’t know...”

  “He better be or I’ll--”

  “HEY!” you yelled, interrupting her thought and her eyes went wide, “I can’t do this right now okay? If he’s here, he’s here. If he’s not, he’s not and we’ll deal. But I just.. I need to go home okay?”

  “Okay” she said calmly, helping you up from the bench and the two of you walked back to the car. Almost as soon as you buckled yourself in, you felt a pain in your stomach and you cried out to Lauren, “what? What’s wrong?!” she sounded panicked and you now had to keep her calm

  “Nothing’s wrong, I just had a bit of pain...” you replied

  “IS IT THE BABY?”

  “LAUREN!” you shouted before taking a breath, “everything is going to be fine, I think we should go to the hospital though, just in case”

  “Okay, we got this! We’ll be there before you know it!” She said before stepped on the gas and you screamed

  “OH MY GOD YOU’RE GONNA KILL US!”

  “CALM DOWN!” she yelled back

  “SLOW DOWN!” you screamed, clutching the side of the door for dear life before squeezing your eyes shut

  “OH RELAX, WE’RE FINE!” She continued speeding through to the hospital but you kept your eyes closed, ���see, we’re here. We made it”

  “You’re never driving me anywhere ever again...” you chided as you opened the door and waddled into the hospital while Lauren got you checked in

  “Alright, let’s see what’s goin’ on here” the doctor said as she came into the room you’d be put in

  “There was just a little pain...” you answered

  “Your first?”

  “Yes”

  “When’s your due date?”

  “Two weeks. November 13th.” He nodded before looking at the results from the electrodes stuck to your stomach

  “Is dad here?” He asked

  “Uhm, no... He gets in tomorrow?”

  “Alright, well,” he smiled, “someone might wanna give him a call because it looks like this baby is coming early!”

  “WHAT?” You and Lauren exclaimed, leaving the doctor to scoff playfully at your reactions

  “This happens. There’s nothing to worry about”

  “But I’m not due for two weeks... I don’t have anything.. the car seat... blankets... I don’t even have a change of clothes. Did my water even break?”

  “That’s a bit of a misconception. Something Hollywood typically gets wrong...”

  “No I know.. I read the books, but I’m not in labour am I?”

  “You’ve had a few contractions since you’ve been here, which means, yes, you’re going into labour.”

  “I thought her water had to break first?” Lauren asked, confused at what she should be doing

  “It will break when she’s in active labour”

  “So what do we do?” Lauren asked

  “Call Freddie” you answered before the doctor could and Lauren did as she was told. As she ran outside, you felt a few contractions but nothing too painful and you thought maybe you’d be one of those women who had an easy labour. You were sorely mistaken.

  “WHAT IS HAPPENING?!?!” you screamed to your sister as your contractions got worse

  “You’re in labour...” Lauren tried

  “Where’s Freddie?” you whined

  “He’s on his way... with the entire team...” she whispered her second statement but you heard her as clear as if she were yelling at you

  “WHAT?! NO NO NO NO” you shouted, “I don’t want the whole team here! Please, tell them not to come, please” you were at that point where you were breaking into hysterics

  “I can’t, (Y/N),” she whispered, trying to calm you down but it just irritated you more, “they’re already on the-- they’re here...”

  “WHAT?!”

  “Freddie just texted me, he’s looking for the room...”

  “TELL HIM NOT TO COME BACK HERE!” you yelled

  “(Y/N)? Baby?” Freddie called when he got into the room

  “Freddie...” you whispered

  “There you are,” he smiled as he rushed to your side, “how are you doing?”

  “I hate this” you whined

  “Epidural?”

  “They said it’s not time yet.”

  “Well, I’m here now,” he said, rubbing your forehead lightly with his thumb, “what do you need?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t think straight. She already hates me. The baby hates me”

  “She doesn’t”

  “You don’t know that. She’s not causing you this kind of pain. I feel like I would rather been run over by a truck right now.” Freddie laughed, forcing you to scowl at him

  “I’m sorry. The pain will all be worth it”

  “I love you,” you said sweetly, “but I hate you right now”

  “I know”

  “This sucks”

  “I know” he repeated

  “I want you to take my place. I’m too weak for this. You’re so much stronger than I am...”

  “I’m not. You just think that because I’m taller than you...”

  “No no, I know it”

  “(Y/N)...”

  “Just stop the pain...”

  “I’ll get the doctor” he said, placing a small kiss to your forehead before running out and finding a doctor, who then came back to see you and told you unfortunately it was still too early for the medicine

  “How much longer?” you asked, irritation on your tongue

  “It’s hard to say,” the doctor replied calmly, “could be an hour, could be 10. It could be 10 minutes. All pregnancies are different...”

  “I don’t like that answer”

  “I’m sorry,” he laughed, “you’re doing great.” He squeezed your arm once in reassurance before he left and you dropped your head back onto the pillow

  “Freddie...” you whined

  “I know, elske, just a little longer okay?”

  “No. Not okay. GET HER OUT OF ME!” you cried, looking up at your fiancé whose eyes seem to still be filled with love even though you were acting crazy

  “Wanna hear a story?”

  “What?” you said, shaking your head and squinting at him

  “The game got cancelled last night because a bunch of guys got sick on both teams and neither wanted to sacrifice the game so.. whatever it was a whole thing,” he rambled as he sometimes did when he told stories, “anyway, we hopped on a plane to head home and Mo was like ‘what if this was meant to be? what if Vita is early?’“

  “He did not...” you rolled your eyes

  “Did too!”

  “Freddie...”

  “I laughed it off, too, but it’s what he said. That’s why when I got the call that you were in labour, I knew I had to tell him”

  “You’re such a--” you started before another contraction interrupted you and you screamed so loud, you could feel it ricochet across the room. Not long after that, you were able to finally get the epidural and a calm rushed over you. Before you knew it, you were being rushed to the delivery room. As your screams filled the room, you clutched Freddie’s shirt

  “Make it stop!” you yelled at him

  “You’re doing great, babe, just a little more. Keep pushing” he said

  “I don’t wanna...” you whined, falling back against the pillows

  “I know, baby, but you have to” he said as he kissed your forehead before the doctor told you to push again. You cried a little before continuing to push, letting out sounds you never thought you would until all of a sudden, you felt a sudden relief

  “Here she is,” the doctor exclaimed, showing you your baby girl, “does dad want to cut the cord?” he asked Freddie, who nodded happily. They cleaned up your daughter and took you back to your room before letting Vita rest on your chest.

  “She’s beautiful” Freddie whispered as he sat in the chair next to your bed as Vita slept

  “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe she’s here,” you whispered back, smiling almost uncontrollably before looking up at Freddie, “Freddie, we have a daughter!” You smiled at him as he kissed your forehead

  “I know, it’s amazing. She’s amazing,” he said softly, “you’re amazing.” For the first time since Freddie arrived at the hospital, you leaned in to give him a kiss

  “I love you so much”

  “I love you.” After you got a bit of a rest, you were greeted by friends and family; a seemingly endless carousel of people who wanted to hold your daughter. Once everyone cleared out, Freddie rocked Vita back and forth as you tried to keep your eyes open

  “You’re good with her,” you said, “I knew you would be”

  “I think she’s gonna be a really good baby”

  “What do you mean?” you laughed

  “I think she’ll sleep through the night and just be super easy..” he said, laughing at your expression as he sat in the chair next to you

  “I don’t know if she’ll be easy, she is still a baby afterall” you countered and he shrugged

  “You did great, elske,” he said, kissing your forehead, “you know what?”

  “What?” you whispered

  “I think our love story can finally begin now,” he smiled, “everything else is going to fall into place. You watch”

  “You’re such a dork,” you said, smiling at him and Vita, “but I think you’re right.”

[crystal-moon-101]

My redesigns for this popular trio!

The Secret Generator 10 (Or Celebrity Trio but that doesn’t really work for me because of Zak...) I’ve been meaning to get around to doing this, since I am really fond of these three boys. With Zak and Rex both being part of my top two shows of all time. Sorry Ben....

-Zak Saturday-

He was the most fun working with. His warm colour palette isn’t something I work with often, but I think I did alright. He also as some small details you might notice, like the fangs, eyes and scales.

Notes:

14 Years Old

5′5 (Will only grow to be 5′8. Which confuses him since both sides of his family have very tall genes. Ulraj pokes fun at him, saying all that height is going towards his ‘Kur Form’)

Dead on the inside.

Aggressively Pansexual

His human side has been growing reptilian features. Noticeable fangs, scales growing around his lower neck, around his chest and upper back/shoulders, pure orange eyes with pupils that can become thin slits and a slight forked tongue. 

Even also displays some reptile behaviour. E.g, soaking up sunlight on a rock, alert nature, able to stand still as a statue. (He’s done these things since he was young. His parents just thought it was something he picked up from Komodo.)

The light that forms around his eyes when using his powers have darkened the skin around his eyes. (Suggested by my friend)

He is oddly thin and lanky, but it’s often hard to see because of the baggy clothes he wears.

That being said, he’s a lot stronger than you think he is. Can easily lift people twice his size.

Constantly has to get new hair ties. They keep breaking because 1. Every time his powers cause all of his hair to flow, the tie snaps. 2. Working out in the wild, it keeps getting snagged by tree branches or slipping off when he tumbles downhills.

While quiet and casual outside of battles, he will become a lot like his mother on the field.

Has freckles from his maternal side. His mother doesn’t have them, but Doyle does.

Will casually mention his ridiculously and scary adventures like they’re nothing, not because he’s bragging, but because he truly doesn’t understand what normal really is.

So use to being grabbed by the scruff of his shirt that he will always go limp when you grab him like that, much like a baby animal. 

While he can act very eerie and strange, he’s a very sweet and understanding guy. 

That being said, he can be hella scary when he wants to be.

Don’t mess with his family or he will send an army of Grootslangs to your house.

Still trying to figure out his placement in life and what Kur was really meant to be.

After being taught by his family and uncle, he went to Tsul 'Kalu to be his new mentor.

-Rex Salazar-

I think I changed him the least, but I added extra details and made his shirt, pants and shoes into a one-piece suit. It always baffles me how he can pull off this colour scheme so well.

And while I didn’t draw it here. I would definitely make his pure EVO form a lot smaller. Make him come across more like a monstrous zombie robot thing. The reason why is because those EVO forms he had just felt like they belonged to different shows, like transformers. A more creature design would fit better, I feel.

Notes:

16 Years Old

6′1 (Will grow to be 6′5. Yeeeeeee, he’s a big guy.)

Lady killer~

Best wingman and even offers pretend dates to help you.

Can always hear and feel the technology around him. Strange to everyone else, but he’s learnt to live with it. Even comes in handy when trying to find a good wifi connection.

Knows when to cut the bullcrap.

He does have a bit of a science brain, but he uses it differently than his family had.

Constantly jumping between worlds. Sometimes even tossed by someone.

Talks in his sleep, mostly reciting nanite binary coding.

Lonely lad and child solider, great mix, right?...

Goes all out with holidays. He once, somehow, got real snow in Providence. No one knows how to this day.

Hates lightening.

Has nearly called Holiday and Six mum and dad multiple times.

Has a lot more abilities he has yet to discover. (Including turning people EVO.)

Never asked for any of this, but, eh, what ya gonna do

Is always overexcited when doing normal things. (Werids out Noah a lottt.)

You’re endangered if he decided to use his full raw power. (Key signs to look out for is a large amount of circuit patterns covering him, glowing eyes, tips of his hair glowing too, sharp metal growths and technology around you flashing like crazy.)

Loves Imagine Dragon.

Sharp eyelashes.

Just wants hugs, give him hugs!

Always frustrated when someone from his past tries talking to him about the past. Sometimes he wonders if people forget.

Skilled drawer and smooth singer.

Has an EVO pet (Her name is Siri, Btw)

Some have compared him to being a living, breathing nanite. 

Eager to have family game nights! “Poker doesn’t count, Bobo...”

Once had a malfunction, his whole body was out of wack. (Noah laughs about it and even has some recordings, much to Rex’s dismay.)

Has a civilian outfit that Noah put together. (He refuses to take off his goggles, however.) 

-Ben Tennyson-

Now, I already made a redesign for him, along with Gwen, Julie and Kevin (Both for teen and kid versions). I used the same look, just adjusted some details and colours.

Notes:

15 Years Old

5′9 (And he stays that height. He peaked in height very young, but stop growing quickly. This does annoy him.)

Dumbass with bad impulse control.

Even he’s confused by how he keeps attracting women.

Had a rather lonely childhood with many bullies. (It’s why he often seeks attention, he’s afraid of being alone and forgotten again.)

It’s also what made him jealous of Gwen when they were young. Most treated her like the better of the two.

Pretty crap at sharing his feelings. He would rather play it off as a jerk, then go and drown himself in smoothies...

A secret momma’s boy. “Benny Bear” As his mother likes to call him.

Has an interesting dynamic with Azmuth. Despite their arguments, they balance each other well. Others have even seen them taking care of each other (Almost like father and son), but the pair will always deny this and say it’s ‘strictly’ professional.

 Surprisingly great with kids. (This was truly noticed when seen around his 14 baby chills.)

In the future, he will have a nasty wound on the battlefield, which will result in the Omnitrix becoming his new arm and merging with him.

When he takes thing seriously, you know shits going down!

Has a german shepherd name Boston.

 Likes to call Vilgax ‘Calamari’.

Has grown to be close to most Tennyson members. (E.G Camille, who was actually his babysitter after she joined the family.)

He doesn’t like peacocks after...an incident at the zoo. His mother still apologizes to this day.

Decent singer and very skilled at the guitar. 

Has picked up combat moves from Tetrax.

Has always felt like he’s nothing without the watch. Others have said otherwise.

He knows how to speak certain alien languages, Galvan being one of them.

His schedule is a nightmare, because something is always popping up that involves him. This means he sometimes forgets to eat, sleep or even wash. It’s why he’s often caught napping.

Sometimes wonders if he’s human or alien at this point, maybe something else entirely. 

Very soft poofy hair.

Is hated by almost all his villains. He just loves pissing them off.

[ignalina-c0re]

So many kids: a compilation of Chernobyl dads

@elenatria​ asked me to write up a post about texts referring to all the dads among the operators and such, so here’s a (probably VERY incomplete) list, enjoy :D

“Most people who came to the new city were young, and many were unmarried. The average age of those living in Prypiat in 1986 was twenty-six. There were eighteen dormitories in the city for singles, and most apartments were designed for young families. Not only were most inhabitants young, but their children, when they had them, were young as well. In the five local elementary schools, there were as many as fifteen parallel classes, each with no fewer than thirty students. Most rural schools, by contrast, had barely enough students for one class. In most urban schools, there were only three parallel classes running at most. And there was no sign of this trend slowing: more than a thousand newborns were welcomed to the city every year.“ - Chernobyl: The History of a Tragedy by Serhii Plokhy Note: Plokhy’s transliteration is unconventional and somewhat disturbing, but I decided to preserve it for posterity, i.e. I had to suffer through it and now you guys do too lol Also, I don’t know how accurate the info in Ablaze is, considering PPR keeps referring to poor Stolyarchuk as Piotr and Dyatlov’s wife as Valentina, but it has a lot of interesting biographical info about, well, everybody.

Akimov:

“Finally, after inquiring of many people, I learned that he was at the medical unit. I rushed over there. But they would not let me in. They said he was receiving an intravenous injection at the time. I did not leave, I went up to the window of his ward. Soon he came to the window. His face was reddish brown. When he saw me, he began to laugh, he was overexcited, he reassured me, asked me about the boys through the glass.

It seemed to me that at that point he was somehow particularly glad that he had the sons

. He said that I should not let them go into the street.“

- Testimony of Lyubov Nikolayevna Akimova, Aleksandr Akimov's wife in Chernobyl Notebook by Grigory Medvedev

“Upon graduating, Akimov was sent to work for Zukh-Hydroprojekt in Chernobyl, and Luba went with him as his wife.

They moved straight into a flat in Pripyat, where Luba gave birth to their first child

. They, too, embarked upon the life at Chernobyl with the greatest enthusiasm. Akimov worked hard to establish his professional reputation; he also joined the party. In his free time, he read historical biographies, subscribed to magazines on military technology, and went after duck and hare with his Winchester rifle.The Akimovs’ life was not without trouble.

Their second child was born with a twisted hip

: every two weeks Luba had to make the five-hour journey on the hydrofoil to take her baby to see a specialist in Kiev.“

“Although no visitors were supposed to enter the antiseptic zone, individual doctors made exceptions for those who were likely to die. Akimov’s mother brought him a thermos of chicken broth, but when she saw him she fainted. The first time his wife, Luba, came to visit him she found him methodically pulling out the hair from his head and throwing it in a bin. She tried to raise his spirits by describing how, when he got better, they would live by a river and earn their living, like Dyatlov’s father, by regulating navigation and checking buoys. She had brought drawings by their children to distract him, and she told him how well they were doing in school. Once she looked back from the window and saw that her husband was now pulling out tufts of his moustache.‘Don’t worry,’ he said to her, ‘it doesn’t hurt.’To witness so much suffering in those they loved took a terrible toll. Luba, aged thirty-three, suddenly looked old; once a nurse took her for Akimov’s mother. The only consolation came from the companionship of the other wives. Luba was an old friend of Inze Davletbayev’s, she had invited Inze to stay in her dormitory in Moscow when she had come from Bawly in Tatary to marry Razim, and when Inze had fallen ill, she had nursed her. Now, every morning, the two women heard from Elvira Sitnikov about their husbands’ worsening condition. A doctor had told Luba that radiation harmed the reproductive organs. Luba thought that they might be unable to have more children, and she told Inze how one evening she had seen her husband naked, his skin now dark, his penis rotting and black.“ - Ablaze by Piers Paul Read

“Akimov knew that he might not leave the hospital alive, but while he remained well enough to speak, he told a friend that if he lived, he’d like to pursue his love of hunting and become a gamekeeper. Luba suggested that they could live on a river with their two sons, tending buoys and regulating navigation, just as Deputy Chief Engineer Dyatlov’s father had done. Whatever happened, Akimov was sure of one thing: “I’ll never go back to work in the nuclear field,” he said. “I’ll do anything. . . . I’ll start my life from scratch, but I’ll never go back to reactors.”“ - Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham

Yuvchenko:

“ On April 25 1986, 24-year-old Sasha Yuvchenko clocked on as usual for the night shift at the Chernobyl power plant in northern Ukraine. It was a beautiful evening, particularly warm and clear, and Yuvchenko, an engineer-mechanic, and his workmates were full of their plans for the upcoming May Day holidays. At home, his wife, Natasha, was still up with their fretful two-year-old, Kirill.“ - The Guardian: How I survived Chernobyl “Most of Kirill Yuvchenko’s childhood memories are related to people in white coats. When he grew up, he did not hesitate to go to medical school. The first place of work was the very “Six”, where he was invited by the doctors who treated his father.”  - Strana Rosatom “That afternoon it had been so warm that Sasha had taken his two-year-old son Kirill for a ride on the crossbar of his bike, and the little boy had tried to remove his father’s hands from the handlebars, shouting, ‘I want to ride it myself, I want to ride it myself!’ After they had eaten and the child had been put to bed, Alexander’s wife, Natasha, had settled down to watch the final episode of an Irwin Shaw mini-series on television; but Sasha had been restless." - Ablaze by Piers Paul Read

”Alexander Yuvchenko, senior mechanical engineer in the reactor department on the night shift of Chernobyl’s Unit Four, spent the day in Pripyat with his two-year-old son, Kirill. Yuvchenko had worked at the station for only three years. Lean and athletic, almost two meters tall, he had built up his towering frame with competitive rowing in high school back in Tiraspol, in the tiny Soviet republic of Moldova. At thirteen, Yuvchenko had been one of the first members of the city rowing club, where the trainer selected only the tallest and strongest boys to test themselves on the fast-flowing waters of the Dniester. At sixteen, he became the Junior League champion in Moldova; his team went on to take second place in the All-Union Youth Competition, competing against teams from across the entire USSR.” “Yuvchenko didn’t know if the radiation made him infertile, although the doctors assured the couple that they could safely have had more children. But Natalia didn’t trust them and questioned their motives: she didn’t want to become the unwitting subject of some callous experimental study.So their son, Kirill, then studying to become a doctor, remained an only child, and they had adopted a Siamese cat named Charlie—born on April 26, which they agreed was a good omen.“ “The following week, more than twenty-two years after he had first crossed the threshold of the brown brick building on Marshal Novikov Street, Alexander Yuvchenko returned to the hallways of the former Hospital Number Six for the last time. That same day, he called Natalia to say that he was being taken into intensive care for surgery and wouldn’t be able to phone again. By now, Kirill—twenty-five years old and a trainee surgeon—was working at the hospital himself and continued to see his father every day.“ - Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham 

  Kirschenbaum:

“In Pripyat the night shift prepared to return. The young turbine engineer Igor Kirschenbaum ate supper with his wife, Alla, and their three-year-old daughter, Anna.“ There were also fears for future generations. The risk of bearing a malformed baby made couples hesitate to have a second child. Still, Alla Kirschenbaum, the wife of the young turbine engineer from the fourth unit, gave birth to a second child five years after the disaster, and it was a healthy baby girl. By then she and Igor had decided that when the opportunity arose they would emigrate to Israel.” - Ablaze by Piers Paul Read 

Bryukhanov:

“Briukhanov had first traveled the Kyiv–Prypiat highway by bus in the winter of 1970, when the city of Prypiat did not yet exist. He was young and full of enthusiasm. Becoming director of a nuclear power plant at such an age was quite an accomplishment, but for a while there had been no plant to talk about. Briukhanov had yet to build it—the plant, his own offices, along with a home for his family, which included his wife, Valentina; their nine-year-old daughter, Lilia; and one-year-old son, Oleg.”

”But for now, Briukhanov could put such disturbing thoughts aside. He was finally home. International Women’s Day lay ahead, a chance to greet his wife and spend time with friends and colleagues. His daughter no longer lived with them: she and her husband were about to graduate from medical school in Kyiv. The Briukhanovs would have to greet her over the phone, but they soon hoped to host the young couple in Prypiat. They were expecting a child, and Briukhanov would become a grandfather.” ”Only once was he allowed to see his wife, Valentina. The family, which included a teenage son and an older daughter who had given birth to a baby girl four months after the Chernobyl accident, was suffering a stunning reversal of fortune. Previously one of the most respected families in Prypiat, the Briukhanovs were now shunned by many of their former friends and neighbors.” - Chernobyl: The History of a Tragedy by Serhii Plokhy

“As the weather warmed, Brukhanov had a schoolhouse built where children could be educated up to fourth grade. In August 1970 he was joined in Lesnoy by his young family: his wife, Valentina, their six-year-old daughter, Lilia, and infant son, Oleg.” “Brukhanov, harried by work as usual, had left for the office at 8:00 a.m. and driven the short distance from the family apartment overlooking Kurchatov Street to the plant in the white Volga he used for official business. Valentina had arranged to take the afternoon off from her job in the plant construction offices to spend time with her daughter and her son-in-law, who had both driven over from Kiev to visit for the weekend. Lilia was already five months pregnant, and the weather was so good that the three of them decided to take a day trip to Narovlia, a riverside town a few kilometers over the border in Belarus.“ - Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham

Dyatlov:

“On the night of April 25, his walk was like any other. No untoward thoughts entered his head—at least, he did not remember any later. Everything seemed normal and under control. The shutdown schedule had been slightly adjusted, but that was nothing to worry about—it had happened before. Like everyone else in Prypiat, he was looking forward to the weekend—relaxing with his family, which did not see much of him during the week, and spending some time with his granddaughter.“ - Chernobyl: The History of a Tragedy by Serhii Plokhy

“His wife adored him – or so it seemed to their friends – but she was a small, cosy woman, not the type to tame the tyrannical traits in her husband, and there was the shadow of a shared sorrow between them: their second child had died in infancy in Komsomolsk.“ - Ablaze by Piers Paul Read

“There was an explosion, and Dyatlov was exposed to 100 rem, a huge dose of radiation. The accident, inevitably, was covered up. Later, one of his two young sons developed leukemia. There could be no certainty that the two events were linked. But the boy was nine when he died, and Dyatlov buried him there, beside the river in Komsomolsk.“ - Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham

Pravik:

“Volodymyr Pravyk’s parents waited in vain for hours for their son to come and help them with the gardening. When they finally learned that he was in the Prypiat hospital, they rushed to see him. Volodymyr told them through the window to get on their motorcycle, grab his wife, Nadiika, and daughter, Natalka, wrap Natalka in as many blankets as possible, and send both immediately to Nadiika’s parents in central Ukraine, away from Prypiat and Chernobyl. They did as he said. Before leaving their apartment, Nadiika left a letter for Volodymyr on the table, telling him where she and Natalka were. Their romance had been conducted largely by letter—this would be the only one to remain unanswered.“ “Two weeks earlier, Nadiika had given birth to their daughter, Natalka. Lieutenant Pravyk asked his superiors to move him to a different position without night shifts so he could spend more time with his family. They promised to arrange the move, but there was no one to replace him yet, so he had to stay for the time being. He loved his job and his crew, and he was always working on projects to improve things in the fire department. With the help of one of the firefighters, he designed and installed remote-control doors in the department’s garage, a rare feature at the time. That day he had brought his tape recorder to work with the idea of preparing a musical greeting to his crew for the coming holidays. At 2:00 a.m. he was supposed to be replaced on duty and take a nap before the end of the shift at 8:00 a.m. Later that morning, he, Nadiika, and their daughter were planning to visit his parents in Chernobyl. Like everyone else in his unit, he was preparing to help his parents with the gardening“ “Volodymyr Pravyk’s parents could not refuse their son when he begged them from a hospital ward to take his wife and daughter out of Prypiat as soon as possible. From the Prypiat hospital they went directly to Pravyk’s apartment, put his wife, Nadiika, and one-month-old daughter, Natalka, into a motorcycle sidecar, took them to the railway station, and got them on a train speeding away from Prypiat“ - Chernobyl: The History of a Tragedy by Serhii Plokhy 

“From his bed, Pravik sent a cheerful letter to his young wife and their month-old daughter, in which he apologized for his poor handwriting and his absence from home.“Greetings, my darlings!” he wrote. “A big hello to you from the holiday-maker and moocher. . . . I’m slacking from my responsibilities in raising Natashka, our little one. Things are good here. They have settled us in the medical clinic for observation. As you know, everyone who was there before is now here, so I’m enjoying having my entire entourage around. We go out for walks, in the evenings we take in the sights of Moscow at night. The one downside is we have to take it all in from our window. And probably for the next one or two months. Sadly, those are the rules. Until they complete their assessment, they can’t discharge us.“Nadya, you are reading this letter and crying. Don’t—dry your eyes. Everything turned out okay. We will live until we’re a hundred. And our beloved little daughter will outgrow us three times over. I miss you both very much. . . . Mama is here with me now. She hotfooted it over here. She will call you and let you know how I’m feeling. And I’m feeling just fine.” “ - Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham 

Ignatenko:

“In the dorm room above the garage of Fire Department No. 6 in Prypiat, Liudmyla Ihnatenko could not sleep after her husband, Vasyl, left for the plant before 2:00 a.m. She was pregnant with their first child, whose birth was expected soon, but it was more than that. She felt that something was wrong.” “Liudmyla asked her husband what she could do to help him. “Get out of here! Go! You have our child!” he said weakly. “Go! Leave! Save the baby!”“ “Guskova asked Liudmyla whether she had any children. The only thing on Liudmyla’s mind at the time was to get Guskova to let her see Vasyl. She assumed that claiming to have children would strengthen her case and said that she had two, a boy and girl. In reality, she had none. Liudmyla decided not to mention that she was six months pregnant“ - Chernobyl: The History of a Tragedy by Serhii Plokhy 

Others:

“The older specialists, several of whom had followed Dyatlov from Komsomolsk, were as eager to teach the young as the young were to learn. There was no question of anyone expecting extra money for extra effort: Razim Davletbayev spent not only the evenings but also half his summer vacation studying the new technology of nuclear power. His wife, Inze – a woman with a wide Tatar face and gentle, soulful eyes – had a job in the department of industrial safety, checking the amount of radiation received by each worker, but all her ambitions were for her husband; she saw to all the household chores so that Razim could continue with his studies. After the birth of a baby, she spent much of the day with the child: Razim left for work at seven in the morning and only returned at nine at night.“ “For many raised as atheists, it was not easy to exchange their Marxist convictions for Christian beliefs. Moreover, there were Soviet citizens like the Tatar Davletbayevs whose traditional religion was not Christianity but Islam. Raised as Communists, and with no reason until Chernobyl to doubt its atheist philosophy, Inze had rediscovered through suffering her people’s one true God. No longer did she pray to the mummified body of Lenin or to the bronze statue of Pushkin but took her son Marat across Moscow to pray to Allah in a Mosque.” “The Palamarchuks’ younger daughter, who had been in Pripyat at the time of the accident, had developed continuous headaches, though the doctors assured them that this had nothing to do with radiation.  “Not knowing when she would return, or how secure the flat would be in their absence, Ylena [Grishenka] put together all the things she prized most: her leather coat, her fur coat, her gold bracelets, her Italian shoes and her ice skates. Her daughter had a new rucksack, which she filled mostly with her party dress. By contrast, Lubov Lelechenko, assuming that they were to be taken out into the surrounding forest, put on her oldest clothes. Luba Akimov, who had spent the morning trying to keep her children away from the windows, along with Inze Davletbayev, Natasha Yuvchenko and the other wives of the injured operators who had been flown to Moscow, obediently packed their bags and waited for the buses. Katya Litovsky, the pretty girl whom Nikolai Steinberg had recruited into the turbine hall in the early days of the Chernobyl power station, had to prepare not just her ten-year-old daughter, but her daughter’s friend, who was visiting. Lubov Lelechenko got a call from her daughter in Kiev, who wanted to know if they were going to Poltava for the May Day holiday, as planned, or should she come to Pripyat? Lubov dared not tell her daughter what had happened, so she handed the telephone to her husband. ‘We won’t be going to Poltava,’ he said. ‘But don’t come here.’” “Lubov spent much of the following day in the post office, telephoning friends in Kiev and the friends of friends in Kharkov. Lelechenko was not there. Eventually, their daughter Ylena rang from Kiev to say that she had tracked him down at the Institute of Radiology there. ‘Things are bad,’ she told her mother. ‘You must come at once.’” “Katya had been married and had two children, who went first to live with her former husband in Krasnoyarsk, then to a boarding school in Kiev. To her, working for Steinberg at the nuclear power station came before both family life and her own well-being. The conditions were hard; she wore a mask to work, and the windows of her office were covered with lead. Nevertheless, she was happy, and whenever she went away on leave she longed to return to Chernobyl. As one of the few women at the plant, she sensed her value to the workers’ morale. ‘We were all a little in love with you,’ a naval officer told her later, ‘and tried to live up to the cheerful look on your face.’“ - Ablaze by Piers Paul Read "The medics wanted him to go to the medical center, but Shavrei refused. He went home instead, put his wife and young child in their car, and drove them away from Prypiat.“ - Chernobyl: The History of a Tragedy by Serhii Plokhy

“The third watch lacked discipline. It was packed with obstinate old hands who disliked following orders. Many of them were from peasant families, close relatives raised in the surrounding countryside. Among them were two Shavrey brothers, Ivan and Leonid, from just over the border in Belarus, and fifty-year-old “Grandpa” Grigori Khmel, who had two sons who were also firefighters—all of them born in a small village ten kilometers away from where the station now stood. The watch commander, Lieutenant Vladimir Pravik, was just twenty-three, a college graduate who dabbled in photography, drawing, and poetry and was a dedicated member of the Komsomol. His wife taught music at a kindergarten in Pripyat and had given birth to their first child, a daughter, just a few weeks before, at the end of March.” - Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham “For the first two years, Tolya lived at a dormitory in Pripyat, and our two daughters and I were in Nikolaev at my brother’s. Then they gave my husband an apartment, and we moved in with him.” - The Pain Doesn’t Fade: interview with Elvira Sitnikov

“ Letter from the 7-year-old son, Oleksiy Horbachenko, to Mykola Horbachenko (Chernobyl NPP dosimetrician on duty) to the 6th clinical hospital of the Institute of Biophysics, where he was treated for radiation sickness. Moscow, May, 1986 Mykola recalls the history of this letter: “Then no one was allowed to visit me. Only in July, they began to let visitors in. In the street in the garden tents were set up and soldiers in chemical protection were on duty on the stairs. Our chamber windows looked out onto the garden, where the tents stood, and early in the morning we saw how the soldiers took out the dead on gurneys. The wife arrived in May with the children to say goodbye to dad. I was taken out onto the balcony, all wrapped up, accompanied by two soldiers in chemical protection. My son then drew me that way – the dad on the balcony." - a post about Nikolai Gorbachenko on the Chornobyl National Museum’s FB page

Just because it’s funny:

“Kyzyma ran his directorate like a huge peasant household. The heads of the directorate’s units dreaded his invitations to the Romashka, one of the plant’s dining halls, for a meal of Ukrainian borscht. At the head of the long table, in the spot reserved for the family patriarch, sat Kyzyma, with his “children” (subordinates) on both sides.” - Chernobyl: The History of a Tragedy by Serhii Plokhy 

Just because it makes me want to cry:

“Anatoly Dyatlov, the dictatorial deputy chief engineer, had spent his years of incarceration contesting the verdict of the Soviet court, writing letters and giving interviews from prison in an attempt to publicize what he’d learned about the failings of the RBMK reactor and clear his name and those of his staff. He wrote directly to Hans Blix at the International Atomic Energy Agency in Vienna to point out the failings of their technical analysis, but also to the parents of Leonid Toptunov, describing how their son had stayed at his post to try to save the crippled reactor and how he had been unjustly blamed for causing the accident. He explained that the reactor should never have been put into operation and that Toptunov and his dead colleagues were the victims of a judicial cover-up. “I fully sympathize with you, and grieve with you,” Dyatlov wrote. “There is nothing more unbearable than losing one’s child.””

- Midnight in Chernobyl by Adam Higginbotham

[ailec-12]

Prompt: AU, bored and exploring Malfoy Manor at a social function, young Sirius Black finds an old diary belonging to T.M. Riddle.

Thanks so much for this prompt, Anon! To be honest, at first I had no idea what to do with it, but it would seem Tom’s diary possessed me as well, because once I started, I couldn’t stop. I’ve enjoyed writing teen Sirius a lot, so I hope you’ll also like it.

Shout-out to @mariagvogel for making this one shot better with her comments. It can also be read on AO3.

I.

Sirius hated them all —every fucking member of his family. Nothing could really top his hatred for his mother, who insisted on dragging him to those pure-blood parties no matter how much her eldest son embarrassed her. He was wandering around, sneering at the portraits that lined up the walls of the Malfoy mansion.

Those events were always supremely boring, but Sirius had never felt so utterly alone. Regulus was socialising with their cousins like the good Black son he was. Yet, the only cousin that really mattered, Andromeda, was not present and no one talked about her. Her face still decorated the Black family tapestry, but Sirius did not think it would last long. It was a very odd feeling. When Andromeda talked about cutting ties with her family, they used to laugh about going out in style. He had not seen his cousin in months, though, and, if she had concocted any plans with her Muggle-born boyfriend, she had not breathed a single word about it to Sirius.

The dark corridor he was crossing at the moment threatened to be as dull as the guests downstairs. At least he had managed to slip unnoticed from the party. He could not have shown his distaste as freely there. A somewhat distant crack startled him out of his thoughts. He froze on the spot. That must be Dobby. Although Sirius could not say he liked the house-elf —who was always too overexcited—, he pitied anyone who had to live under the thumb of a prat like Lucius Malfoy. Dobby was also far nicer than Kreacher. Even so, if he saw Sirius snooping around, he would be forced to tell his masters. Sirius would rather avoid angering his mother so soon when there was still a long evening ahead of them.

Thinking on his feet, he walked quickly to the end of the corridor, where a door hid the stairs to the attic. Andromeda and Cissy had discovered that one dragging a very young Sirius with them. He could no longer remember the exact reason, but they had been hiding. It felt like a very far memory.

Sirius closed the door carefully behind him and waited until he heard the second crack that meant Dobby had left. The party seemed not to exist in the absolute stillness of the stairs and Sirius let out a long-suffering sigh. Glancing up, he decided to head for the attic. It was a good hiding place if nothing else.

The room looked dirtier and more abandoned than Sirius remembered. It actually reminded him of their attic at home, full of useless and forgotten pure-blood memorabilia. He stepped around the worn-out furniture, dodging the odd-shaped items scattered in some parts. He could not help thinking that, if the rest of his friends were with him, poking around Malfoy’s stuff would have sounded much more exciting. Alone, however, Sirius did not truly feel like exploring.

Looking round in order to find at least something to distract him from the fact that there was no one to share his findings with, his eyes fell on a small bookcase. The dust made his eyes itch when he got closer and most books did not even have a title on the spine. He gazed at them blankly for a moment longer, trying to decide whether picking them up was worth the effort. His interest was suddenly piqued when he saw a small rectangular item wrapped in fading brown fabric. That time, he took it with no hesitation, revealing a black leather book. It was rather thin and the year on the cover —1942— let him know it was not a recently purchased item. As he opened it, he was disappointed to find there was nothing on the blank pages except for a name on top of the first one: T. M. Riddle.

Sirius let it fall, huffing. An empty diary whose owner did not even have the right surname for the house. He did not really care if it had been someone who had married into the family or if some Malfoy had stolen it. Somehow, Sirius was not able to picture someone staying for a sleepover and leaving their diary behind.

Bored, he sat down on the floor, near the diary. He could already see the others’ faces when he returned downstairs having ruined his new, shiny robes. The mere thought brought a smirk to his face and lifted his spirits lightly. He picked the diary back up. Perhaps no one would ever see it, but Sirius wanted to leave his mark in case someone else found the old thing.

He searched through the drawers and found a couple of broken quills, but no ink. He cursed out loud, remembering the Muggle drawing kit that Moony had gifted him last Christmas. He would carry a pen everywhere if he was not certain his mother would enjoy burning it while Sirius was still carrying it.

Nevertheless, he found a small piece of charcoal and did not hesitate to open the diary at the first page. In big capital letters, just under the name, he wrote, FUCK PURE-BLOODS —SB. He had to admit it looked lamer than it had sounded in his head, so he was trying to come up with another epithet when the words faded away. Blinking, he stared down at the yellowish pages. If it was a means of communication like the two-way mirror he used with Prongs, he might be screwed.

The diary answered right away.

Interesting choice of words to write on someone else’s diary. And who might you be?

Sirius looked at the words for a few seconds. It had been quite a prompt answer for an object that had seemed abandoned just a moment ago.

I’m not telling you my name, he decided to write at last. He was not that much of an idiot.

As you wish. Mine is Tom.

Again, the reply was quick. Sirius bit his lip, rolling the charcoal between his fingers.

Are you friends with the Malfoys?

I might be, came Tom’s enigmatic answer. They must not have taken great care of my diary if you have got your hands on it, though.

The calligraphy was elegant, although not as flowery as Sirius’s. For all his faults, the Malfoys were not as exclusive as the Blacks. Tom’s elusive comments sparked the boy’s imagination and he was already picturing Riddle as the offspring of a marriage between a Malfoy and someone of not such a high standing.

Focusing back on the pages, which had returned to their original state, he decided to try his luck.

Do you write to them often?

I can’t say I do.

Sirius could almost hear the playful tone behind those words.

What would you do if I took you with me?

Write to you, what else?

Sirius’s smirk grew bigger as he closed the diary and threw away the charcoal.

 II.

In the end, getting away from the gathering had indeed been worth it. His parents had not been able to do much in public, since they knew sending him home would actually have been a reward. By the time they had got back, both of them had been too inebriated to punish him properly. Sirius had got away with just his hurt pride at having had to apologise to the Malfoys plus a quick stinging hex before being sent to bed. Still, his leg hurt like hell from the surprisingly well-aimed spell.

He was lying on his bed, groaning into his pillow and with absolutely no intention of sleeping. He would like to contact James through the mirror —he did not think anyone would hear him despite the absolute silence—, but he did not want to come across as needy. He could wait until tomorrow to whine and tell his friends all his woes.

Turning around, he sat up and examined his leg. He concluded it would be better not to risk asking Kreacher for a pain potion, since it would lead to his mother hearing about it. In a couple of hours, it would no longer sting. Making what felt like an enormous effort, he stood up and started disrobing. It was only then that he remembered Tom. Still half dressed, he hurried to get ink and quill and got comfortable in his bed. It was pretty late, so he told himself he might have to wait until the morning for an answer.

Are you there?

Of course.

Sirius smiled at the immediate reply.

I —don’t— regret to inform you that you are no longer with the Malfoys.

His grin grew bigger as he felt clever. He would keep talking to Tom if it was going to help him forget about his misery for a while.

You sound like more interesting company anyway. I take it that you had fun and the event is over?

Sirius scoffed loudly.

I don’t think a single one in that bloody bunch of old snobs know what having fun is like.

You may be right, but why would you want fun when you already have power?

Reading those words gave him chills and sobered him up. Perhaps it was because Tom’s phrasing urged him to agree at first. He frowned and put down the diary to physically distance himself from that feeling. Almost right away, though, he picked it up again.

Do you believe that blood supremacy crap?

He felt something akin to disappointment and had to rein in the impulse to throw a cruder accusation.

What I believe does not matter. It is a fact they have power, is it not?

Sirius liked that answer even less and he felt his frown deepen. He stared as the ink faded, considering what he should retort. Apparently, Tom found his words sooner.

You benefit from that power, don’t you, S?

An inexplicable, overwhelming anger rose in the boy’s throat and he was scribbling furiously before he was aware of it.

Fuck you. My name is Sirius.

He slammed the diary shut and threw it in his trunk.

 III.

I’m a fucking tosser.

It was the first thing he wrote in two weeks and the black letters were blurry.

Do tell.

Tom’s response came at once as usual, but it felt oddly impersonal. It was just what Sirius needed, because the last thing he wanted was a friendly ear. He was determined to avoid thinking about the next letter he would have to write to Prongs.

I was going to spend half the summer at a friend’s, but I crossed my mother and ruined everything. I’m not going anywhere now.

A little splash smeared the ink before it disappeared completely. He wiped his eyes furiously while he waited for Tom to say something.

Oh, boo-hoo. Why would you act out if you needed her permission?

Didn’t plan on it, you twat. Just happened. You’d also scream at her if you’d met her, he added before a reply could come.

I think not. I’ve been told I’m a great actor.

Pretentious prick, Sirius shot back. He was feeling calmer, though, and not truly annoyed.

Tom offered no reaction to that, but Sirius did not want to finish their conversation so soon. It was a very welcome distraction from the pain and humiliation that usually followed an argument with his mother.

I don’t know how I’m to survive an entire summer locked up in this house.

Have you tried to escape?

I’m only 14. The Ministry will find me as soon as I try to do magic.

Of course, living as a Muggle is out of question.

Sirius frowned, not liking one bit the mockery he could feel behind the words.

It is when I have neither Muggle clothes nor Muggle money, he retorted.

And your friend? Wouldn’t he take you in?

James would, he was certain of it. However, that would require detailing exactly how bad things were at home. It was not worth it, Sirius told himself as he had a thousand times before. It was only three more years until he could do magic and then no one, not even his mother, could stop him —after all, his fourteenth birthday was just a few months away.

My family would not allow it, he wrote instead.

Are you important or something?

Again that derisive feeling. Sirius could not explain why he felt the other’s intentions so distinctly.

Or something, he agreed noncommittally. He was about to add something else when a knock on his door startled him.

Swallowing with difficulty, he reminded himself that only one person in their household would knock before entering. Not that his dear brother waited for an answer. Sirius had barely had time to close the diary when the door opened. At least, Regulus was not in the habit of barging in.

“What do you want?” Sirius snapped right away, feeling anger consuming everything within him once again.

Any tentativeness disappeared from his brother’s demeanour and his young face hardened. He closed the door after coming in, but did not step closer.

“Don’t take it out on me. I did nothing.”

“Yeah, I think that might be the problem. You never do anything. The perfect son,” snarled Sirius, in a well-rehearsed course of action.

“What d’you expect to get when you insult the whole family? Couldn’t you just go along with it for once and say what she wants to hear?”

Regulus was frustrated, but his controlled manner paled in comparison to the ire running through his older brother, who jumped off the chair, not caring about the noise.

“I’ll never stand by while she badmouths my friends,” he said, barely restraining from shouting. “But of course you don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about. You’d need to have some friends for that.”

The jab hit Regulus as hard as Sirius had intended and his pain was plainly visible on his face. He refused to regret having caused it.

“I just came to see if you were all right, you imbecile.”

Regulus practically spat the words before turning around and taking hold of the doorknob.

“Hurry up and move along, then. I’m fine.”

Regulus opened the door and stared back one last time. His mouth was a hard line and his eyes glistened. He looked too old for his age.

“You’re a liar.”

 IV.

Have you ever been trapped with no option to escape?

It was the middle of the night of a perfectly ordinary day, but Sirius could not sleep. Luckily, it seemed that neither could Tom.

Most people have at one point or another, came the answer, swift and vague as ever.

His friends were taking too long to reply to his letters and Prongs had forgotten the two-way mirror at home when he had packed for his holidays. Talking to Tom felt just as good, though.

More letters appeared in the centre of the page while he was lost in thought.

What matters is your ability to break free when the time is right.

 V.

What is ailing you this time? I can tell you didn’t steal an enchanted diary to complain about your house-elf’s cooking.

Their correspondence was getting more familiar and Tom did not hesitate to cut his ramblings short. Sirius decided not to beat around the bush, either.

Do you come from a pure-blood family?

I have old blood running through my veins, yes.

Sirius had never felt so grateful for Tom’s pretentious nature. He had a feeling the other would understand.

They burnt my cousin Andromeda’s face off the family tapestry. She has married a Muggle-born, so they say she’s tarnished our blood.

And you fear to suffer the same fate?

I’d fear to stay in this house forever, but

He hesitated. Sometimes, he felt as if he were offering up too much information, although nothing he had said so far was truly a secret.

she is my favourite cousin.

The words faded away slowly, as if the diary were absorbing Sirius’s strong feelings behind them, too.

I think she’s forgotten me, he wrote in a rush, feeling extremely self-conscious.

That time, Tom seemed to take an eternity to answer.

Pure-bloods are good at holding power, but their short-sightedness will be the death of them.

The words took Sirius aback and he did not think about his next response.

I thought you fancied that blood crap.

I told you. What I may believe or feel is not important. Ignoring the talent of those who do not fit the ideal perfectly will hardly do us any favours.

Sirius blinked, uneasy at how reasonable Tom sounded. He needed to think, so he wrote goodbye and returned the diary to its safe place. After a while, he realised he could contact Andromeda once he was back at school.

 VI.

Sirius skimmed through Prongs’s last letter. He still needed to get back to Moony and Wormtail as well. However, no matter how hard he tried, he could not shake off the feeling that his friends were far too predictable. James told him all about his brilliant family holidays, whereas Remus was as bored and lonely as Sirius. And he really could not bring himself to care about Peter’s latest crush.

On top of his apathy, he was worn out all the time. The bright side of it was that he was usually too tired to pick a fight with his parents. He spent most of his time locked in his bedroom, listening to Muggle music or just staring up at the dark ceiling —or writing to Tom. Sirius could not consider him a friend since the bloke had not revealed much information about himself. Yet, during their exchanges, Sirius did not feel quite so sad or angry, just sort of entertained.

There was only a week and a half until the beginning of the new school year. The rest of the Marauders would not be surprised if Sirius told them he had been too lazy to reply to their last batch of letters. Thus, he picked up the diary, willing to forget about the world for a while.

 VII.

You didn’t write yesterday.

Sirius felt a pang of culpability upon seeing the message. In fact, he had felt guilty ever since school had started. Normally, he waited until his friends had gone to sleep to take out the diary and write on it, sheltered by his drawn drapes. At first, he had looked forward to that nightly encounter, even if it made him feel like he was lying to his friends. During the day, Moony and Prongs were set on finding out what was wrong with him. Nothing Sirius told them stopped their nagging. He could admit he was bloody irritable around everyone those days, but it did not truly warrant their insistence. At least with Tom he had not needed to worry about reining in his temper so as to avoid worried looks.

Nevertheless, eventually, even Moony had let the matter of his bad mood drop. It had led to a more relaxed atmosphere in their friend group and, for the first time since their return, the previous night Sirius had gone to bed knackered and happy and, especially not feeling like he needed to seek out someone else’s company. Frankly, he had not thought Tom would care, but now the guilt rose back up and it was not because he was hiding something from his friends.

I was busy.

It was a lame excuse, but Sirius told himself he did not need to explain his reasons to a perfect stranger.

Hanging out with Hagrid again?

Distaste dripped from the ink of every one of those words.

No, planning a prank for a greasy git. He won’t know what hit him. Sirius’s smirk vanished before it fully formed. He frowned, still thinking about Tom’s comment. What have you got against Hagrid, anyway? He is all right.

That is because you do not know what he is capable of.

Sirius rolled his eyes at the condescending reply. He had known Hagrid for over three years and, while the man had his quirks, he was one of the nicest people Sirius had ever met.

Another sentence appeared as the first one was absorbed by the page.

Want me to show you?

He read the question a few times, trying to understand what it could possibly mean. Tom had never implied they could send anything other than messages through the diary.

“Can’t you– What are you doing?”

It was barely a whisper, but he had already jumped when Moony drew the curtains back and so, he ended up spilling ink all over himself and the diary. His wand was knocked off as well, falling to the floor with its tip still lit up. Sirius barely spared a glance at his friend as he attempted to get away from the mess.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered.

“I’m so sorry,” Remus apologised right away. Turning around for a moment, he retrieved his own wand from his bedside table. “I’ll clean it up.”

With a circular movement, he managed to summon the ink and get it back into the bottle. The diary was intact, not a black trace on it, although Sirius suspected not all the ink had been collected by Moony’s magic.

“Thanks,” he grumbled, because his friend was looking at him with soft eyes full of uncertainty.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I just couldn’t sleep and saw the light from your wand.”

“It’s okay. I couldn’t sleep, either.” Sirius huffed, unable to stand the awkwardness any longer. “Sit down, for Merlin’s sake. Unlike others, I don’t bite.”

He received a brief, albeit quite powerful glare as expected, which in return brought a grin to his face as he closed the diary and put it in a drawer for the time being.

“Was that… a diary?”

Moony’s incredulity was obvious, so Sirius forced himself to let out a dismissive snort.

“Just brainstorming our next pranks. Prongs and I still have to take revenge on that Seventh Year Ravenclaw prick for laughing at us when Snivellus and Evans dumped us in the lake.”

“To be fair—”

“I don’t want to be fair, Moony. I want to laugh at Mr Brainy.”

Remus rolled his eyes, but a long yawn interrupted whatever he was going to add. Right on cue, Sirius also yawned.

“I think I’ll go back to bed now. You should try to get some sleep, too.”

“I will,” promised Sirius, smiling fondly at his always responsible friend.

He drew the drapes and snuggled up under the blankets, having forgotten all about Tom and Hagrid.

 VIII.

Guess who is not going home for Christmas?

Sirius was feeling light as a feather and needed to share his enthusiasm.

Did you get your face burnt off the family tree as well?

Not yet, he replied, beaming in the semi-darkness. His penmanship was messier than usual, because his brain was going too fast for his hand to keep up. I’m going to spend the break with Prongs. His parents have invited me to go with them to ski. The entire hols! he added, trying to convey his utter delight, for he felt like exploding every time he thought about the letter he had just received.

My mother will be furious, he kept on, not waiting for an answer. She will have to explain her disgraceful heir has once again chosen blood traitors over the family.

You do realise that, by cutting ties with them, you are only making things harder for yourself, don’t you?

As if I cared. I’m not going to put up with their pompous arses one minute longer than I need to.

Well, perhaps there is something better that you can do at school if you stay.

“What?” Sirius almost yelled, turning it into a whisper at the last moment.

I’m not staying, he wrote quickly.

Why did Tom feel the need to sour his mood like that? He had said he was not upset by the lack of daily updates on Sirius’s part, but he may have lied.

You never let me show you that memory about Hagrid. I could show you things about Hogwarts, places no other person knows about but me.

Sirius felt his hair stand on end. No one should sound so alluring through a written message. Without another thought, he slammed the diary shut and pushed it off his lap. He was suddenly afraid of how much he had longed to accept Tom’s offer.

As if a veil had just been lifted, he realised the diary was an object taken from a family with close links to dark magic and even darker social circles. He had been tired all summer and his bad temper had persisted after getting away from his family. He had only started to feel better once he had stopped writing to Tom every day.

He nearly tossed the diary out of the window, but he stopped when he took it in his hands. Surely, he was overreacting. He had been talking to Tom for months and, even though the other gave him the creeps from time to time, he had felt no dark influences trying to control him. Prongs always said he was paranoid about everything that had to do with dark magic and he reluctantly had to admit his friend may be right.

Tom must be even lonelier than he was to keep him company after all that time, for Sirius would not describe his life as fascinating. He was happier than he had ever been at Hogwarts, certainly, but Tom had put up with his continuous complaints about his family the entire summer. Perhaps it was only fair that he felt ignored since school had begun, because Sirius had indeed been writing less and less frequently as days passed. He felt like a terrible friend —even if they were not such—, so he picked up the quill again, dipped it in the ink and wrote,

Why do you like talking with me?

I thought you were braver. I thought you’d dare uncover Hogwarts’ deepest secrets.

The ink faded away slowly as Sirius found himself unable to tear his gaze away. New words appeared before he could think of an answer.

Let me show you, insisted Tom. It all started when

Sirius slammed the diary shut for the second time that day, although on that occasion his decision was fuelled by blind rage. The urge to know was still there, whispering in his ear that he should continue reading, continue writing. However, another feeling flooded him and he distinguished the sting of something else besides his hurt pride. He was under no delusions that they were friends, but he had hoped —believed— that the other’s interest meant he shared his feeling of comfortable attachment. Sirius had enjoyed being able to say anything without fear of being judged or pitied, but right then, he only felt manipulated.

Truthfully, he had very much longed to know the answer when he had asked why. Instead, Tom had insisted on talking about his own damn secrets and mysteries. In fact, Tom had elegantly sidestepped every personal question and had always sounded more invested in reading about Sirius’s troubles than any good news he brought up.

The hurt cleared his thoughts in the most painful way possible. At that very moment, he could not care less whether he was indeed paranoid or losing his mind. He had itched to know whatever Tom had been about to tell, but curiosity had played no role in it. The pull had been far less innocent than that and, once he could recognise it, he realised it had been there for a while. However, he had never expected that darkness would feel so sweet and intoxicating —so inoffensive.

Damn, he truly was a bloody idiot.

 IX.

Sirius had bravely fought the temptation to write on the diary again to curse its very existence and, so far, he had won. Still, he had buried the blasted thing at the bottom of his trunk and only taken it out on their last day before the holidays. He was currently waiting for his brother outside the Great Hall, while the students who had already finished their dinner passed by while animatedly chatting about their upcoming plans.

At last, he saw the familiar pale face and hurried towards the small group of Slytherins.

“Hey, Regulus!”

His brother glared at him, but murmured something to his companions and they promptly left towards the dungeons. Sirius could not help frowning at their backs —if the tables had been turned and it was him asking to be alone with a Slytherin, he would have expected a little resistance from his friends. Focusing his attention back on the younger boy, he saw the scowl was still very much present.

“What do you want?”

Sirius swallowed the urge to snap back, irked by Regulus’s defensiveness.

“I’m not going back home these hols, so I need you to make sure this gets back to the Malfoys.”

He handed out the diary, wrapped in the brown fabric, but his brother made no move to take it. Instead, he asked,

“You aren’t coming home?”

All of a sudden, Sirius felt his mouth dry at the vulnerability clearly present in the question.

“Um, I’m… I’m not.” He ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not that bad, though, is it? Mother will be in a foul mood when she finds out, sure, but I won’t be there to aggravate you all every day.”

His light tone was weak and did not get a reaction from Regulus beyond a renewed glower.

“So what, you want me to deliver one of your funny pranks to Malfoy now that he no longer attends Hogwarts?”

“Don’t be daft, I’d never let you take the blame and steal my spotlight.” Regulus refused to say anything and so, a tense silence ensued. Out of the corner of his eye, Sirius noticed they had drawn the attention of some students. He pushed the diary against his brother’s crossed arms. “It’s something I took from them at the beginning of the summer. I’m not interested in it anymore.”

Finally, Regulus took it and started to unwrap it. Sirius hurried to still his hands. Physical contact between the brothers had become rare nowadays, but neither seemed to realise.

“Nuh-uh. Everyone’s always going on and on about how you’re so much smarter than I am, so show a bit of brains. It’s one of those diaries you can’t stop writing on. Took me a bit to figure it out.”

It was not all the truth, but he did not know what the diary was exactly and hoped it was enough to deter Regulus from giving in to his own curiosity.

His brother was still looking back at him with plenty of mistrust in his clear eyes, but he would not keep an item like that —Sirius was sure of it.

“You can give it to Cousin Cissy,” he joked, breaking the silence once more. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted to have a reason to call on the Malfoys and insult the white sheep of the family at the same time.”

He wanted to add something else, either wish Regulus good luck or happy Christmas. In the end, the right words never came to him and his brother walked away after uttering a curt, ‘Goodbye, Sirius.’

 X.

It turned out that getting rid of that diary was the best decision he had made in a while. James’s parents had also invited Remus and Peter to their winter house for a week —carefully chosen by the boys so that Moony would not have to deal with any furry problems.

Not even Walburga’s Howler managed to shatter his happiness. It had arrived one morning, while they were all having breakfast. Sirius had prayed for the ground to open up and swallow him whole when he had seen Euphemia’s and Fleamont’s faces as they heard the usual string of slurs and threats —fortunately, Prongs was used to those Howlers by then. For a very long moment, Sirius had also feared what they would think of him after learning he was a thief.

In fact, he had barely dared look up when an ominous silence had returned to their table. However, it had soon been broken by a new string of voices, only that time there was a mix of indignation and reassurance and it was all in his favour. Sirius’s eyes had been suspiciously wet when his friend had clapped him on the back and he had had to talk the adults out of seeing Walburga Black before they went back to school.

Even if he did not manage to find an excuse to stay at Hogwarts during the next break, he would not have to face her in months. It was a very freeing, hopeful thought. He knew that his little stunt would bring other, more serious consequences eventually, but he was not very worried about whatever hell his mother had promised. Hell could not scare him when he already knew what it was like to live in it.