#hiccup canonically cat person?

[midnightcoffes]

its funny how we collectively forgot that Hiccup has a cat on book one

[bumblebugwrites]

chapter 1: nothing's new

Pairing: Victor!Treech x fem!Reader

Summary: After nearly two years of peace, you are called back to the Capitol only to find that the future they promised you was a lie.

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Cursing, Suggestive Themes, Use of Weapons, Mention of Injuries, Minor Character Death.

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

Coriolanus Snow is many things, he thinks to himself, but incompetent is not one of them. So there had been the Lucy Gray hiccup. Helping her cheat the Games only for her to die at the hands of Dr. Gaul’s snakes after he failed to slip the handkerchief into their tank was inconvenient, to say the least. As was his brief stint as a Peacekeeper as punishment for his dishonest tactics following the discovery of a certain compact with her remains. Still, he had learned a valuable lesson. Love is no more than a disadvantage, a distraction lodging itself like an unfortunate bump in his flawless plan. And now, he is back, having traded Sejanus’s life for his own advancement. It was nothing personal, really. Personal is a luxury, the only one he can not afford.

Sure, the loss had hurt, but the District 7 boy made a fine victor and one he could control with a far greater degree of ease, given the detachment he felt in regard to the kid’s safety. New year, new him, new Games, and this time, things would be different. 

His proposals had gone through without much struggle, especially with Dr. Gaul practically eating out of the palm of his hand. He is the protege; his mentor is the kind of woman you do not cross without bearing the consequences. 

And so, on this fine morning, as he stands with the casual grace of a cat, elegantly perched on the corner of his desk, he can’t fight the grin that spreads across his face as he delivers the order he’s been waiting for weeks to give.

“Well? Go get them.”

It is a cold day in District 10, at least colder than most you think as you finish your daily sweep of the ranch and its expansive territory. You pull back lightly on the reins, bringing the horse to a slow stop.

“To name an animal, any animal, it’s counterproductive. Selfish even. Makes for a more difficult slaughter; always best to remain detached.” Your father’s words echo in your head as you dip your neck to whisper soft praise to the creature below, her hind branded with a string of three numbers: 039. Her label, to call it a name, would be to demean anyone granted the privilege of such a thing.

“That was good Bluebell, nice easy ride. Told you it would get better.” She is young. Young enough to spook with a fair amount of ease, but then so are you. Had been ever since your Games.

You dismount, hitting the ground with a soft thud before coming around to face the gentle giant and fishing a handful of sugar cubes out of your pocket. She nuzzles the food in your palm before beginning to eat, and you run a hand up and down the bridge of her nose. The world is quiet, dew still catching the light of the rising sun when you see it in the distance: the armored vehicle speeding towards the cabin housing the front office. It is not unusual for Peacekeepers to come and go from the building, but the night shift typically does not end until 8:00 am, and dawn’s colors still paint the lower half of the sky. Something is wrong.

Two men exit the vehicle, entering the small building before quickly reappearing at its entrance, a third companion in tow. He stands on the porch for one beat, two, a lazy hand draped over his eyes as he scans the field for something. Someone. And then he points. You. They are looking for you.

Your heart leaps into your throat, and your body screams at you to mount once more and ride as fast and as far away as you can, but you stay rooted. Frozen. You watch, helplessly still, as the car only comes closer, pulling to a stop on the other side of the fence, keeping the pastures separated from the open road. The Peacekeeper in the passenger seat steps out, boots scraping the gravel.

“Ms. L/N?” You only nod.

“I’m afraid you’ll have to come with us; you’ve been called to the Capitol.” You feel like screaming, but your throat constricts, and all you can do is take slow, encumbered breaths as your body caves in on itself and you crumple to the ground.

“I– What?”

You do not mind the mud on your knees, and the slow chill that begins to spread from the places dampened by the wet grass is barely perceptible in your state of shock. Called to the Capitol. Your mind jumps back home, your brother and sister still tucked away, blankets to their chins. They would not rise for another thirty minutes at least. You picture your mother. Savoring a final moment of quiet in her busy day, sipping the coffee you’d left in the pot just for her. Your mind replays the goodbyes you had paid them this morning. Careless and quick, not like the day of the reaping. Just sloppy kisses pressed haphazardly to their foreheads and a gentle farewell on your way out the door.

“That’s not possible– It’s not– I haven’t…” There is an eerie stillness to the world at this time of day. One that only seems to press inwards, suffocating you. Distantly, you feel the soft pressure of Bluebell’s muzzle on your shoulder as though urging you to get up

Though the man in the driver’s seat seems annoyed by the inconvenience, his partner fails to shield the look of pity that flits across his face as he dips to pass through the fence, pulling you up and then back through the gap with him. He is not rough as he sets you in the backseat, not like the Peacekeepers you remember from your Games, or maybe he is; everything seems a blur as the car makes its way to the train station, and it is only as the compartment doors to close behind you that you think of Bluebell, left out in the pasture, probably licking fallen sugar cubes off the ground.

Treech releases a labored exhale as he tries once more to readjust his grip on the axe. It’s just a tree. He can sense the nearby Peacekeeper shuffling from foot to foot, anxious for him to get on with the process. This is not the arena. I am safe. I am home.

There is no time off granted to returning victors following their stint in the Games. Production is production, and there are quotas to be met, so Treech had arrived home, and the following morning, before the sun had kissed the hilltops with its light, he had risen to go to work. Only work didn’t come easy the way it used to, lulling him into a rhythmic sense of comfort with its repetitive motions, and each time he raised his axe, all he saw was them. The other tributes waiting to receive the killing blow.

Treech wipes the sweat from his brow in a single frustrated motion in spite of the cold, then, squaring his jaw, he takes a swing. Crunch. The axe lodges itself in Teslee’s head, and he stumbles back, eyes wide with fear. Only it is not Teslee. No. He blinks once, twice, and it is only a pine tree, and he is back in the forest, sinking under the weight of the Peacekeeper’s heavy glare. The man, stationed less than a yard away, begins to move towards him, and Treech prepares himself for another beating, the sharp threats from the last time still ringing in his ears.

“Officer,” a voice calls out in their direction as another man of higher rank, from what Treech can gauge, approaches the pair. The two men meet and begin to speak in hushed voices, eyes flitting in his direction every few sentences. They’re gonna fire me. Or worse, string me up in the square and use me as an example. His grip on the axe tightens. His axe. His father’s before him. He will not go down without a fight.

“Hey, you,” Treech keeps his eyes on the forest floor, silently praying to any higher power that will listen that he is not the you in question. 

“Hey! Hey, you!” He can hear the man approaching, but the sound of his footsteps is dulled by the pounding of Treech’s heart. He feels like a child in a bathtub, head halfway under the surface as the water beats at his eardrums, completely still and as loud as a tidal wave. A firm grasp settles around the fabric of his winter coat, far too thin for the cold but the best he can afford.

“Listen to me when I’m fucking speaking to you,” the Peacekeeper spits, and Treech’s mouth settles into a hard line, his hand curled into a tight fist, twitching by his side. The man before him huffs in frustration.

“Call came in from the Capitol; you’re on the next train out,” he moves as though he’s going to release Treech before yanking him back in, close enough to press his mouth to the boy’s ear. 

“You’re lucky the order came from above; if I had a say, I’d gun you down right here for the disrespect.” With that, he gives the kid before him a hard shove before beginning to stalk off.

“Let’s go.” But Treech feels as though the ground beneath him has disappeared. Back to the Capitol? Would they send him into the arena? He was done. Won his Games fair and square. He was supposed to be free. What more could they want?

The first thing you notice about the train is that it is the nicest thing you have ever set foot inside of. During your Games, and all those before and after, transport to the Capitol had been relegated to old cattle cars used to shuttle livestock across Panem, and the same had been true on your return trip. This is different. Every inch of the compartment is decorated with the lavish and ornate, all-cushioned seats and elaborate chandeliers.

The second thing you notice is the boy. He is older than you, you think, by several years. Five, maybe six. He seems out of place, tucked into the corner of one of the booths, sizing you up suspiciously. He looks familiar.

“I– Do I know you?”

“We’ve never met before,” he responds, cold and guarded. But there is something about him, his build, tall and broad, dark skin and brown eyes; you could almost imagine them looking soft and kind in a different environment. 

He keeps the sharp look on his face, and you have yet to move from the doors when it clicks.

“You won seven years ago; I remember you. District 11. Teff, right?”

“You’re the girl from 10,” he says, and his posture relaxes, if only by a fraction.

“Y/N.” You smile, and you mean it to be a comfort, but there’s a fear in your eyes that betrays the anxiety deep in your gut. Still, you move closer, sliding into the seat across from him and bringing your hands into a neat pile on your lap.

“What are we doing here?” It’s small and whispered as it escapes your lips, and your gaze refuses to meet Teff’s as you wait for an answer.

“I have no idea.”

It is several hours before the train stops again, and though they are mostly passed in silence, the occasional attempt is made at small talk. Whispered theories mingle among everyday questions. So, what do you do in District 11? Do you think they’re gonna kill us? There’s lots of horses back home, cows too. They can’t put us back in, right? Only once, that’s what they said. 

The next time the doors open, you are in 2, as indicated by the towering stone walls keeping it separate from neighboring Districts. Three people get on. One of the boys you recognize immediately: Octavian Blackwell, the first victor. His hair is dark, clipped short in a sort of military cut, and his eyes look as though they are carved from steel. Beside him is a girl, small and lithe, her posture relaxed and tense all at once. Antonia. The name echos out from some dark, cavernous corner of your mind. The first female victor, 3rd Hunger Games. The final boy is taller than both his counterparts, though leaner in build than Octavian; you wrack your brain, praying for some form of recollection, but he remains unfamiliar to you.

“More victors,” whispers Teff, and you watch as the three faces before you seem to come to the same realization.

“What the fuck is going on?” It’s the District 2 boy who breaks the silence, the one whose name continues to elude you. 

“Hector,” Antonia hisses, a warning lacing her tone, but her eyes betray a curiosity lingering beneath the surface. 

“They can’t put us back in, right? There’s not enough. Not to mention, half the districts wouldn’t even have tributes,” you sputter the words up, an involuntary torrent of concern spewing from your mouth. Your gaze flits nervously from face to face, and in spite of the many hardened exteriors, you can feel it beneath the surface, a brewing apprehension. Octavian breaks the silence.

“They won’t put us back in.” And he seems certain. He is old, you think. Not old in the way a grandparent is, but aged certainly. You had never taken the time to imagine a tribute outside childhood, escaping adolescence into fully formed adulthood, but here was Octavian, who must have been at least twenty-six, with several deep-set wrinkles beginning to mar his brow.

“Probably just rounding us all up to kill us, send a real message after those shitshow Games last year,” Hector grumbles, moving further into the compartment and thrusting himself into the booth across from you and Teff. “Just watch; I bet we’ll hit 4 next, then 7, and 1.”

The noise of uncomfortable shuffling seems to fill the compartment, and eventually, Octavian and Antonia settle into the booth beside Hector. You can’t help but allow the shell of a laugh to brush past your lips. A whole train car for the lot of you, and here you were, pressed into the two corner booths. Sure, the cage is bigger, but you still cower like animals. Like you’re back in those trucks ushering you from the train to the arena, gleaning a last moment of comfort as you brushed shoulders with the children you would watch die.

Hector was right. The train stopped at 4, though only one boy got on. Trawl, he’d won the 8th Games, just before yours. You remember distantly hearing of another victor from 4, a boy who was killed upon return. Murdered by the father of his district partner, who accused him of killing her. Stabbed him in the town square, they said. The Peacekeepers only watched.

The train grinds once more to a halt in 7, and quick glance outside the window reveals a station made entirely of wood, grand posts carved with ornate designs supporting the massive roof. You glance towards the door, waiting for him, the newest victor. You do not have to work hard to recall his name, Treech; the two syllables had echoed from every radio in your mother's house the day the 10th Games ended.

The doors open with a hiss, and he stumbles in as though pushed, a mop of curls obscuring his eyes. He seems dazed. As he lifts his head, you watch it happen. The same realization that had dawned on every victor to enter the compartment after you, but then his gaze only grows dull as though accepting some secret fate you had yet to be alerted of before he shuffles forward, taking a seat on a longer bench facing the door. Alone. 

It is several more hours before you reach 1, and although some hushed conversation continues to fill the train car, you sit in silence, casting worried glances at the quiet boy with his head in his hands. He is not crying, you think; his shoulders are too still, but his breathing remains too rapid to indicate sleep. Maybe he just likes to listen, you suppose, trying to grasp the newest direction of the chatter around you. Maybe he’s scared. As you turn once more to analyze his hunched shape, Trawl catches your line of sight, speaking up from beside you.

“Just leave him alone; if he wants to sit by himself sulking, that’s his problem,” he mutters close to your ear.

“For all we know, we could be walking into an ambush. Give him a break,” you say, moving to stand before making your way over to the place on the bench beside him. You are quiet for a time, unsure how to start, but as your lips begin to purse around a greeting, he interrupts you.

“I like your hat.” His voice is flat, a single eye visible from behind the curtain of his hair. You forgot you were wearing a hat. It was your father’s from his brief time on the ranch before transferring to the slaughterhouse, where he met your mom. Your hand darts up to trace the brim.

“Thanks, it was–” But then his tone registers, and you recognize the snark behind the compliment, “You don’t mean that, do you?”

“You some sort of cowgirl?”

“How do you know what a cowgirl is?” You ask, and your eyebrows draw together in surprise at the knowledge.

“Read about them in school once, before I dropped out.”

“I guess so. Usually, people just call me a ranch hand.” He lifts his head at this, and you realize he’s quite pretty on closer viewing.

“Doesn’t sound as cool.” The ghost of a smirk lights his face as he says it.

“No, I guess it doesn’t,” you say, grinning back. His smile is quick to fade, and he turns once more, fixing his gaze ahead, away from you.

“Why are we here?” He asks, his cocky demeanor gone in an instant. You ache to be able to provide him with an answer, but the same question has been clawing at you since the two men showed up on the ranch this morning. 

“I– I’m not sure.” He nods, and it is solemn, like a prayer, but he does not return his face to his hands, instead watching the miles of land roll by in a blur, no single thing occupying the space outside the window for longer than a second. You find yourself looking, too, imagining how it must feel to go 250 mph. You decide it's probably like flying.

By the time you reach 1 to collect its two victors, a searing silence has spread over the train, the atmosphere tense. The journey to the Capitol is so quiet you could hear a pin drop, and as the skyline appears over the barriers built to keep people like you out, you feel the apprehension shrouding the compartment begin to buzz. It is only then that Hector speaks, shattering the stillness with a single phrase.

“Welcome back to Hell.”

The sun is setting as the train pulls into the station, and you twitch nervously, scraping your nails against the pads of your fingertips. Beside you, Treech watches your movements with a fixed gaze as though pondering reaching out to still the repetitive motions himself. He does not, and you fail to notice his attention on you at all, eyes fixed ahead on the double doors. 

When they open, a swarm of Peacekeepers descends on the car within a matter of seconds, hoisting you from the seats, snatching at arms and shoulders in their attempts to muscle you out of the compartment. A startled yelp escapes your lips as the man with a harsh grasp on the collar of your shirt rips you forward and onto the platform, jostling your hat from your head. 

“No–” You lunge for the single remnant of your father, straining against the Peacekeeper working to wrangle you towards an awaiting vehicle, but it is no use. He wraps you in a firm pair of arms, lifting you, kicking and biting from the ground the remainder of the distance before tossing you onto the floor of the car. As you whip around to assail him once more, the doors fall closed with a thud, leaving you to pound futilely against them.

Eventually, your jabs lose their power, and you sink down, forehead pressed to the cool metal, biting your lip to prevent the oncoming tears from spilling over. A hand makes its presence known on your shoulder as the car begins to move, and you turn to glimpse Trawl, his face painted with concern. A quick once over of the vehicle reveals only half the victors had been loaded on: you, Trawl, and the two tributes from 1, Lux, who sits with both hands clasped primly in her lap, and Beau, whose only visible sign of distress is the repeated preening of his hair.

“My– My hat. It was my dad’s–” you stutter out as Trawl helps you onto the seat beside his, “I don’t– there’s nothing else left.” The concern in his eyes settles into pity, and you feel like shrinking under the weight of his compassion, tired of feeling helpless.

It is not long before the car pulls to a stop, and the doors come open once more. It is dark out now, and you can’t help but find it unusual, the feeling that you are being smuggled, rushed in under the cover of night. Typically everything is a display in the Capitol. If they are going to kill you, where are the cameras? You are ushered into an elevator, and one of the Peacekeepers extends an arm, scanning a card before pressing the button for the top floor. You think distantly this might be some sort of hotel. You have never been inside a hotel before. A simple ding alerts you to the fact that you have reached your destination, and you are jostled out and through the door directly before you following the swipe of another card.

It is a large room. You had always believed hotels came with the promise of a bed, but this seems more like a home: a kitchen with appliances you do not recognize, a luxurious lounge with a semicircular couch facing a large projection, and a man, his hair as white as snow.

“Please, let’s not manhandle our guests,” he calls out to the group of Peacekeepers herding you into the center of the room, and they back away, taking up posts on the surrounding walls. Their message is clear: you are not permitted to leave. 

You reach up to rub at the place where, only moments before, your arm had been kept in an iron grip when the door to the room flings open again, the remainder of the victors stumbling in. Teff comes first, ripping his bicep from the man beside him upon entrance, followed by Hector, Antonia, and Octavian, who seem more contained. Last is Treech, a newly formed bruise beginning to darken the area around his eye, and your father's hat held delicately in his hand, fingers pinched around the rim. He keeps his gaze fixed on the floor but lifts his head upon hearing your stifled gasp. 

“Come, make yourselves comfortable. I don’t bite, I promise.” The man at the front of the room speaks with a placating tone and words meant to dulcify, but he smiles like a wolf. No one moves.

“Let’s try this again. Sit down.” From behind you, you can hear the Peacekeepers beginning to shuffle from their stations, inching forward. Octavian is the first to budge. He takes a tentative step in the direction of the couch before nodding at Antonia and Hector, who follow close behind. You look to Teff and then to Treech, only a few feet away from him, still holding your father’s hat. The former surveys the room once before giving you a slow nod, and you move to sit. They file in behind you, Trawl quick on their heels, and the four of you occupy a single corner of the couch being sure to leave room for Lux and Beau. As he slides into the seat next to yours, Treech tenderly sets the hat atop your lap, and you mouth a subtle thank you that he leaves unacknowledged.

“Much better.” The man before you grins, and out of the corner of your eye, you see a look of recognition pass across Treech’s face.

“So glad you could all join us.” He claps his hands together before clearing his throat to begin.

“Now, I’m sure you’re all wondering what you’re doing here, and I want to assure you that in spite of the worries you expressed on the train, we are not going to kill you.” A chill passes down your spine at his implication: they had been watching you.

“See, you represent a new beginning. The birth of a different kind of Games. A better kind of Games.” A wave of confusion seems to pass over the lot of you. Though it is more like anxiety, and you feel a bit like you are drowning in it.

“Now, last year, well, that was quite the mess,” he says, nodding to Treech as though they are in on some sort of joke together. Your stomach turns. 

“But the important thing is, we learned something: the people of the Capitol need someone to care about. To root for, if you will. Which means it’s time for a new way of thinking.” He pauses as though for dramatic effect, and you can’t help but think his speech feels practiced. Had he smiled this morning, delivering his death knell to the bathroom mirror?

“Right now, the Games, they make people sad, uncomfortable even. Too much humanity, not enough spectacle.” Beside you, Treech tenses. “There is nothing commodifiable about the current structure. But if, say, we were to place a higher value on the victors and make you celebrities of sorts, then this blight becomes an honor.” The nine faces before him appear as though they are sculpted from stone; he clears his throat before continuing.

“And how, you may ask, do we plan to do that? Well, starting this year, the past victors will be in charge of mentoring the children from your districts.” Here, there is some breakage. Anger, plain and simple, seeping through the masks. Antonia begins to speak.

“Fuck no–”

“I’m not finished, thank you. Now, this will come with an array of new challenges. There will, of course, be interviews to prepare them for, something you obviously have no experience with, as well as a tribute parade.” Your nose crinkles in disgust as the sole image your mind conjures is last year’s tributes chained to a flatbed truck, Brandy’s dead body swaying from a crane above them. Brandy, who you knew. Who was only one year younger than you. Who had a talent for soothing any creature with which she came in contact and who cried for three days the first time she killed a hog.

“And you will be in charge of organizing sponsorships once they are in the arena, networking, and such. But not to worry, each of you will be given an escort from the Capitol, someone to help you navigate the trickier aspects of the job. And you will not go unrewarded either. Starting this year, victors will be granted financial compensation as well as eventual housing in a Victor’s Village, which will be put up in each of your home districts. Still, we will need to begin with a sort of reintroduction to teach the public what your new role as a victor is, and–”

“That’s not fair,” you mumble, so quiet you think no one hears.

“Excuse me?” The man’s gaze is icy cold, like a knife to the chest.

“That’s– That’s not fair. What about the kids in 12? 8? 6 and 5? If you do this, the same people will win every year.” You stare back, and when your hands begin to shake, you hide them beneath your thighs.

“I don’t typically give lessons in power for free; you should be grateful.”

“You’re evil.” And it is not a question. You are certain.

“Not evil, just practical.”

“The Capitol hates us, they think we’re scum. They’ll never get behind this,” Treech offers from beside you, and you see it on him, the mark of last year's Games. The toll they took.

“If the citizens of the Capitol think we care, they will too. I’ll put you on television with the goddamned President if I have to. This will work.”

“What if we won’t do it?” Teff demands, his voice low, tinged with a warning.

“You have a family, do you not?” The man asks, and the threat pools in his eyes, but he voices it anyway. “Would you like to continue having a family?” It is quiet for a moment, and the weight of his words feels heavier than anything you’ve ever carried in your life.

“We were supposed to be done. We won our Games,” It is Hector who speaks this time, rising from his seat. He pauses for a moment, then raises his brow as though in a challenge. “Well, I don’t have any family. Not anymore. Not thanks to this bullshit fucking system, so you know what? I think I’ll pass.” From beside him, Antonia claws at his arm, a pleading look in her eyes. It is too late. The man with the white hair nods, and two of the Peacekeepers on the back wall step forward. 

“That’s too bad. He can go.” They are on Hector in a matter of seconds, but they do not make for the door; instead, they seize him, one on each arm, and turn towards the hallway, splitting off from the large central room. Several victors move to stand, with Trawl and Octavian making an attempt to follow, but they are swiftly restrained, and you sit in silent shock as the sounds of Hector’s struggle become distant. A door slams. Then, a gunshot. After that, it is quiet. Your limbs feel stiff, frozen even. From your other side, Lux releases a stifled sob. Somewhere in the distance, you hear Teff throw up.

“Anyone else have any concerns they wish to voice?” It’s as though you have all stopped breathing.

“Wonderful. We’ll begin in the morning. You’ll each have a team here to prepare you for the press tour. Your rooms are numbered by district. Be ready at 5:00 am sharp. I’d hate to have any more incidents.”

“So, we’re trapped here?” You speak again, though the sound of your own voice comes as a shock. The man only sighs.

“This is not a prison, no. Though we would prefer you not leave the premises–” You don’t give him time to finish, making a hasty exit through the door where you came in.

“Just make sure she doesn’t leave the building,” he sighs with a haphazard wave of his hand in your direction.

You are at the bar when Treech finds you, two glasses of Posca deep.

He hadn’t meant to go looking for you, really, only to clear his head and get away from that room. Shortly after your departure, two men had entered with a stretcher and left only minutes later with it full, the vague outline of a body visible beneath a white linen sheet. He had followed them out and then quickly abandoned their company at the prospect of sharing their elevator, instead descending the stairs. From the 32nd floor. And there you were, right as the door to the lobby opened, hat on the bar and your eyes fixed on something he wasn’t sure was really there.

“No hard liquor here. At least not for us,” you huff, slumping in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest. 

“And don’t bother asking for the bottle either. They’ll just give you one of these. Nothing more dignified than drowning my sorrows in a glass that costs more than my mother’s house,” you wave a limp hand at the ornate flute before you, doing little to disguise the biting sarcasm in your tone.

“I’ll take what she’s having,” Treech mutters to the man behind the bar, though he keeps his eyes fixed on the counter, unwilling to bear the weight of the curious gaze being pressed upon the pair of you.

“Do you remember them, the other tributes?” You ask suddenly, as though the thought had been clouding your mind for hours.

“The other victors?” You shake your head.

“No. The other kids in the arena.” Treech freezes for only a moment, caught off guard, but it’s enough time for the truth to plaster itself across his face. Every day.

“Sure.” You don’t say anything, only sit patiently, waiting for him to continue. “There was– There was Lamina; she was from home.” I watched her die. I sat by and did nothing. “And there was Coral and Mizzen; they were from 4. And the youngest. She was from 8. Had these hearts made of buttons on her pants. Wovey, I think. From 12, there was Lucy Gray, the girl who sang. Reaper, he was the last to die. I killed him. Killed the girl from 3, too. Teslee.”

He feels his voice begin to waver and opts to stop talking. You sit in silence for a moment, trading quiet nods with the bartender as he returns with Treech’s drink.

“Rye.”

“Sorry?” Treech asks, still lost in the memories of his fellow tributes.

“He was the youngest. He had these eyes just like my kid brother, big and sad. He just stood there, I remember, when the games started. The boy from 2 killed him; just walked up and broke his neck. Couldn’t have been that hard; he was so small. But he looked so surprised like he hadn’t known it was coming, even after he hit the ground.” Treech thinks he might be sick, and beside him, the color has drained from your face.

“Twenty-four kids every year, and we’ll have front-row seats to all of it. The people in the districts, in the Capitol, they’ll forget, let a name or two slip, but we’ll see them all. Watch them train, see their interviews, pick them apart in hopes of a weakness.” Treech downs his glass in one go before signaling to the bartender he needs a refill. You push your flute in the same direction, looking the District 7 boy up and down as though you’d never given him too much thought before.

“I never envied you. The way the Capitol dragged you through the streets for all those funerals, put you behind bars in a fuckin’ zoo, had you play nice and pleasant before sending you off to slaughter. At least ours was quick. Picked us all up on the train, threw us in the back of a truck, and then dumped us in the arena. Nobody knew who we were. Nobody wanted to.” You break off in a laugh that is brittle and unforgiving.

“Maybe it’ll be better this way. I’m in the market for a new job. Turns out you’re no good at chopping trees when you can barely hold an axe anymore,” Treech jokes, but the smile on his face does not reach his eyes.

“They–” but you are quick to pause, halting mid-sentence as though contemplating continuing. You exhale softly before clearing your throat and lifting your eyes once more to meet his. 

“They had to fire me.” Treech’s brows lurch forward in confusion, creating two dimples in the flesh just above his nose. 

“At the slaughterhouse,” you supply. “They had to fire me. I couldn’t– I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t kill anything. The Peacekeepers, they just wanted me gone. I’m pretty sure they would have just gotten rid of me too, you know, set an example, but I knew the guy who ran the place. I used to give his daughter art lessons. He made a call, and I got transferred. Started working as a ranch hand instead.” You stop, and for a moment, Treech thinks you’ve finished.

“I kept thinking they were him. I would pick up the knife, and suddenly, it was like I was back in the arena, watching him die.” The last part came out in a whisper.

“They say what I did to that kid; they say it was mercy. A mercy kill. But I still killed him, and he’s still dead. And I have never stopped thinking about it.” You clear your throat once more and cast your gaze down, hoping to disguise the tears collecting in your eyes. Treech takes notice. He remembers a conversation not two months prior with his mother. The way his voice shook as he spoke. About the games. About the other tributes. He recalls the twisted expression of discomfort she bore, the pity, and above all, his own anger at feeling helpless. Wounded.

“Art lessons? You paint?” Relief, instant and undisguised, etches itself across your features. 

“Draw, mostly. Charcoal, pencil, anything easy to come by. I was gonna be a veterinarian before– Well, you know. I was practicing for scientific sketches, but I just sort of fell in love with the way they moved– animals.”

“You have a favorite?”

“Horses are the hardest. Cows– they’re soft, like people. Some people, I guess. I saw a fox once, little gray thing, sleeping in the grass. I think maybe I liked that one the best. My mom used to say it was good luck, a fox crossing your path. Though, I can’t imagine how. That– That was the day before my reaping.”

You sit in silence for a moment before Treech speaks again.

“You lived. Maybe that was it: the good luck.”

“Sometimes I wish I hadn’t. Like maybe everyone else got out easy, and here we are still living in a nightmare.”

“It won’t be like this forever,” he whispers, but it’s as though he’s pleading with some higher power that it might be true. “It can’t be.”

“Wake up, Treech. This is it for us. They are gonna drag us out here every year to flounce around the capitol, parading new kids to their deaths– or worse, whatever this is, the horrible aftermath–”

“There’ll be new mentors. New winners–”

“Yeah, in 1 and 2 and maybe 4. Don’t you get it? We’re the runt districts. We’ll be lucky if we see another Victor in the next twenty-five years,” Treech swallows hard, willing his mouth to stop tasting so dry; he can feel his heart in the pit of his stomach. “Maybe you ran with the pack in your games, but things are gonna change. Look around. They already are.”

[yanderes-galore]

Based on an idea I thought of, I just had to get something down since I have to wait a bit. Sorry the banner is bad, I wasn't sure how to make it for this AU? This is mostly just me throwing out ideas so I have some down.

Yandere! Night Fury Hybrid! Hiccup Haddock Concept/Thoughts

(HTTYD Hybrid AU)

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Animalistic yandere, Possessive behavior, Human/Hybrid, Manipulation, Biting, Dubious cuddling, Forced relationship implied, Mentions of mates, Guilt tripping, Violence, Mentioned murder, Kidnapping.

I feel at first we should be discussing how he'd look and act.

In terms of how he'd look it can very depending on your preference.

Personally I'd imagine he'd have the "ear horns" like Night Furies.

Then he'd have the wings, claws, and tail.

Maybe he even has the sharp teeth, retractable or not.

He could also have the eyes of a Night Fury, making him look relatively cat-like.

Probably also sleeps upside down.

Maybe you can place some black scales around his body but he still has human skin in some places?

That's a very general idea on what Hiccup could look like as a Night Fury hybrid.

In terms of behavior I'd imagine he'd act similarly to a Night Fury (shocker, I know).

He's stealthy, fast, and can use plasma bolts.

He probably purrs and growls when content.

Something I'm debating on is how he'd communicate with you.

There's three routes you could take with it.

The first one is he doesn't know any human language and communicates through actions or growls.

The second one is he knows limited language to communicate.

For the second one it could start with no language learned and you teach him it, or he knew it by observation of other humans.

The third is he knows fluent language, maybe not yours or maybe it is, but he can talk.

Don't get me wrong, regardless on how he communicates, he's still just as intelligent as your usual human.

Another thing that's dubious about the AU is if there is actual regular dragons.

There could be three separate factions (Humans, Hybrids, Dragons).

Naturally hybrids would be more attuned to dragons due to similarities.

It's that or there's only two factions (Humans and Hybrids), which have been at war for decades.

This is still a very new AU so "AU canon" is still unclear.

Honestly, the most exciting part of this is Night Furies in canon mate for life.

The same most likely goes for hybrids.

So I imagine once Hiccup is attached he plans to never leave you.

Plus, hybrids are most likely possessive similar to dragons.

Now, I feel you could meet Hiccup in many ways.

My favorite though? Maybe you even mirror how he meets Toothless in canon.

Maybe when you two are young (Hiccup's age in HTTYD 1), you help him with an injury.

Then you two slowly bond until you're both in your 20's.

Ever since you saved him he has been a companion by your side.

I imagine you could fly with hybrids but due to their humanoid form, they'd just carry you-

So instead of Hiccup finding a Light Fury hybrid to have a relationship with, he chooses you.

Hybrids would be compatible with humans most likely.

The first hybrid's origins are unknown, but it is implied they take human partners at times.

I can imagine when you're both 21 you try to find him a compatible mate or encourage it.

Meanwhile he doesn't want anyone but you.

Even since you were young, the hybrid knew you were the one for him.

He has never parted from you and your own father wonders what his intentions are.

I imagine when you were young it took awhile to warm up to each other, just like in HTTYD 1.

Hiccup starts off wary of you, wondering if you're safe to trust.

Then by the end of it he vows to protect and cherish you.

You'd both be teens then but your relationship between each other would start off as just companions.

However, this would be the first little seeds of his crush.

It's when you start getting older, reaching 18 and your 20's that he starts inching closer.

He often purrs around you and tries his best to understand your culture.

He craves your touch, often putting your hand on his cheek for comfort.

When you're both adults he probably starts showing behavior akin to wanting a mate.

He may try ro manipulate you into it, claiming you're the closest one to him.

He tries to make it sound like he'd be lonely forever if you don't accept his courting.

He claims he wants to hold you close and cuddle you for warmth since his kind hate the cold.

Yet you can tell by the way he wraps his tail around your waist that isn't quite it.

I imagine he'd bite you to mark you and often gets aggressive towards other humans and hybrids around you.

Hiccup may even share Toothless traits, like being the last Night Fury Hybrid in the world... right now.

Maybe you can help with that, hm? (If you're able)

In terms of if he'd murder, maybe.

He doesn't want to ruin your trust and any form of murder would be accidental.

Like if something blinded him with rage or he allowed his possessive behavior to take over.

Even then he personally may not feel bad for it, but acts remorseful to have your forgiveness.

Kidnapping? Again, a maybe.

For a Night Fury he's rather soft personality wise.

He'd be willing to live with you if you wished, then he could be more attuned to human culture.

Yet if someone tried to steal you from him then he's feel unsafe.

Feeling unsafe may lead to a stray plasma blast striking someone down or burning your home.

Which means he'll have to carry you to somewhere he can properly provide for you.

As a hybrid his diet is mostly fish or whatever Night Furies eat.

However, he could have human food too due to being partially human.

Hiccup would try to keep track of what humans need to provide for you.

When he wants affection he'll nuzzle into you, lay his larger body on top of you, and purr.

Like actual Night Furies, he acts like cats and bats.

Which means it's a bit strange to see him sleeping upside down at first.

Overall, Hiccup as a hybrid would retain his usual persona and a bit of Toothless.

He's a hunter... and your companion for life.

You may not like what he has in store for you, but he promises he does it out of love.

[bokutosbabe]

Ranpo Edogawa Headcanons!

a/n — in honor of season 5 and ranpo being my favorite character ever here are some headcanons !

content — just ranpo hcs, cute relationship hcs, slight nsfw hcs, food play (?) , praise kink, top, bottom , switch dynamics, gn reader(?), that’s it! lmk if i missed anything!

synopsis — ranpo edogawa little headcanons, ranpo in a relationship headcanons, and slightly nsfw ranpo headcanons!

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

casual headcanons!

ranpo has a fear of the dark and will carry a flashlight on him at all times and refers to it as his “light of truth”

ranpo , as we all know, has a sweet tooth; so i hc that his favorite soft drink is cherry coke with several splashes of vanilla!

ranpo may seem like someone who doesn’t care for responsibility, so you’d think he wouldn’t like animals, but i hc that he’s a cat person!

ranpo gets hiccups easily!

ranpo hates going shopping

ranpo finds mystery novels boring since he could solve them within reading the first sentence (idk if this is canon or not but yk)

ranpo is a big houseplant person , but hates watering them

ranpo will make bets with kenji as to how much candy he can carry from the candy store back to the agency just so he can get his candy and not have to walk to get it!

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

relationship headcanons!

being in a relationship with ranpo will challenge you intellectually

dating ranpo will mean that you will always be bickering over small things: like who’s turn it was to cook, who was supposed to take out the trash, and much more.

dates with ranpo will consist of solving mysteries, riddles, and even doing puzzles together!

ranpo will play silly pranks on you just to please his mischievous side that he only really gets to show with you and certain agency members.

dating ranpo will mean that you always have someone who believes in you no matter what

ranpo is a secret romantic and will constantly shower you with love and affection

on anniversaries, ranpo will give you chocolates and flowers every year along with some wine!

(yes he eats most of the chocolates but it’s the thought that counts)

ranpo is a night owl and will always keep you up at night just to keep a conversation going.

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

NSFW HEADCANONS!

ranpo is very big on food play and will experiment with whipped cream and even lollipops

ranpo is a switch, but he prefers bottoming as to save his energy

when you’re riding him, ranpo will have a lollipop in his mouth and only take it out to praise you

ranpo will give you praise at any point, but whenever he’s getting praise? it’s a whole different ball game

when praised, ranpo will get all whiney and beg for more

ranpo is either very vocal or very quiet during sex, there’s no in between

ranpo doesn’t have a very strong sex drive, but will happily pleasure you when you want it

ranpo is a giver more than a receiver when it comes to giving head, he just likes to watch you squirm underneath him

his aftercare is pretty lazy, ranpo will just get a warm cloth and water for you then fall asleep

that’s it! likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[isa-ghost]

Any specifically avian related qphil headcanons? I love that Phil being a bit more birdy is canon in the qsmp but whenever we get lore about it its angst

/I don't know why I'm asking if you have any, I know you got them /

*cupping my hands together and holding them out*

/give em here/

/pretty pleasee/

Oh fuck yeah man. I have an angel OC based off Phil, I've got PLENTY of avian headcanons >:)

Previous Headcanon Sets (x8)

MORE: Avian Edition

I've stated it in a prev set I think, but if you put this man in water his wings will sometimes involuntarily flap like he's in a birdbath. It's somewhat of a stim, bird brain just goes "you gotta."

I've also stated before that when he's stressed, his wings will flap kinda like the way someone might nervously shake out their hands.

Another restate, sometimes his laughs and startled yelps sound almost like squawks. Also his hiccups. It's very rare, but whenever it happens, he gets teased for it. Especially by Etoiles.

Another restate, sometimes his echolalia is his bird brain mimicking a sound he heard if it scratches an itch.

Yknow what just skim the previous headcanon sets I linked bc I talk so much about his wings & what he does with them & how he communicates using them. All those apply here.

Obligatory mirror and windows struggles mention.

Obligatory molting & preening struggles when stressed mention.

We've all seen the way he perches above everyone. It's probably his most prominent/noticeable avian trait.

Apparently camomile calms birds down. If this fool liked hot drinks, he'd have another way to settle his anxiety.

His obsession with noodles got him accused by Tubbo of enjoying them bc bird brain likes worms. He was NOT pleased. Almost gagged.

As long as you're careful around his wings, he LOVES back rubs. (It's bc the dumbass mf slept in that damn chair too much so now his back riots)

DO NOT THE WINGS. Petting them is one thing, he loves when Lullah hugs them, he thinks it's cute. But omg do not dig your fingers into his feathers. They're very sensitive. And that could mean tickling OR pain.

However if you gently do it, his wings will spread a little and his feathers poof up, which is kinda funny. It's like how if you touch a cat's foot the right way, their toes will spread out to present The Beans(tm). Blessed.

He likes to gift his shedded feathers to people he trusts. Chayanne, Lullah & Missa each have one. Although he's extremely close with Etoiles and Fit, he feels too awkward to give one to them yet. Feels a little too intimate.

Gift giving in general is a HUGE part of his love language though. Crow brain must give shiny things to people he loves yesyes.

Bird zoomies!! Wings poof up, he starts hopping all over the place like a big dork. He'd fly all over too, if he could.

Bobs his head to music. Those videos of pet birds dancing? That's Phil babey!!

Another one of his fave bits is pretending to understand and have a full-on conversation with birds. Loves pretending to gossip with them right in front of the person he & the bird(s) are "gossiping" about. However the crows he DOES understand & gossip with.

When he can fly, he's an expert at dive-bombing targets like a bird of prey. It's TERRIFYING. And very attractive depending on who you are (*cough* Missa *cough*)

Lullah once tried to test if throwing a blanket over his head would make him fall asleep like how if you put a blanket over a bird's cage they'll think it's night time and go to bed. It didn't work. He was very confused.

Birds whenever they're happy to see you will stretch their wings out like "Hello yes!" Phil do happy wing stretches when he see the kids :D

His hearing and eyesight are fucking amazing. The only reason he's able to be snuck up on is bc he hyperfocuses on things or the things that sneak up on him are super fast.

Rare Isa Fluffy Headcanon: He make blanket nests.

When stressed or overwhelmed, he'll wrap his wings around himself or raise them to shield his head. He doesn't do this so much after his wings were clipped & injured. They hurt too much.

100% will spread his wings all the way out (when they aren't hurting a lot) to look more threatening towards enemies. They almost autopilot do it when he's angry, but if they hurt too much they'll stop. He's pissed they don't look as threatening after The Federation clipped his wings

[anhttydbookfan]

Horrowcow, Stormfly, and Toothless?

Horrorcow:

I know fishlegs is allergic to reptiles but Horrorcow is quite possibly the best possible hunting dragon for him. Hiccup chose Horrorcow first because she was in a deep coma and so wouldn't wake easily. She's chill and polite and she deserves more screentime. The Red Rage didn't affect her at all. This is Canon. She refused to let go of Fishlegs for weeks at Flashburn's because he means safety to her. She spent the whole war in the caves under Berk because she was scared and wasn't brave about it like Windwalker. I want to read a fic about the Red Rage at Flashburn's from her perspective.

Stormfly:

What if Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss was a Dragon? Claims to be a free spirit, refuses to leave her human's side anyway. They say that Dragons are like cats but this Dragon is the most like a cat that there has ever been. She will be ignoring you and when you move to another room she'll follow you just so that she can keep ignoring you in the same room as you.

Toothless:

He's a baby. He's a tiny little baby who swore up and down that he loved nothing and nobody except for himself and then somewhere along the line he realized that oh. He'd die for this one person actually. Well that's undignified. I'm gonna demonstrate my independence to myself by doing whatever I want as much as I can for the next seven books all the while getting more and more attached to this stupid human that speaks my language until eventually I start loving that human openly. ...well it seems like that plan backfired.

[bugsnbites]

I posted 12,142 times in 2022

101 posts created (1%)

12,041 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@the-moonlight-calls-us

@hellgie

@rat-daddy

@thnks-fr-th-fndms

@headspace-hotel

I tagged 1,156 of my posts in 2022

#personal - 64 posts

#my art - 21 posts

#biology - 20 posts

#history - 17 posts

#no - 8 posts

#asks - 8 posts

#poetry - 8 posts

#me - 7 posts

#my friends - 7 posts

#jimmy solidarity - 6 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#not pictured because i'm trying to make jasper seem cool: the two women either side of him crash tackling him and putting him in a headlock

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

absolutely obsessed

84 notes - Posted August 14, 2022

#4

You'e telling me Grian has forced a significant canonical height difference onto Team Rancher and we all just have to live with that

116 notes - Posted November 8, 2022

#3

Have known Oli Orionsound for quite literally forty seconds and can already tell he's the equivalent of a sopping wet cat in the gutter and also this post. Both of them

140 notes - Posted August 15, 2022

#2

A canary, a phoenix, and their coalmine

192 notes - Posted June 28, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

HTTYD would be nonexistant if Hiccup wasn't a total freak. Like the kid really had a dragon throw up a half-digested fish in his lap, gesture for him to eat, and he went "alright why not"

2,493 notes - Posted April 27, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[lionskinsss]

Character WIP Alison Woods. Aka Al, Lion

22, Libra, She/Her.

Al is a multifandom OC, and also one of the main characters of a story I might be writing.

👉🏼👈🏼

Anyways I do rp with her and I can typically squish her into any universe. She's going to be treated sort of like a sona for this account. I'm gonna use this as a master post for her references so this particular post is going to be updated until it's fleshed out. Someone please ask me questions about her.

Alison is the oldest of two, her younger brother is named Michael, they don't have the same last name.

She is 5'3. Her eyes are blue.

Her favorite food is sushi and spaghetti.

Her favorite animals are cats and snakes.

She hates hot weather, bugs, felt.

She enjoys rock music, being in the woods, daydreaming.

Al grows up along side her brother with typical human hiccups. Asides the fact their biological father is an Eldritch god disguised as a person.

Neither of them are aware of this and just assume that their dad is missing after he's around for a while and then hes not.

Until what Al assumes is his ghost starts haunting her. She sees his face in the corners of her eyes, his shadow, following her around at night. At first assuming she's crazy, her brother returning from his own coming of age horror story reveals that there's something up with their weirdo father.

Shape shifting is an optional ability in rp. It's an ability that she doesn't "unlock" until later in life in her canon, so it's not a major part of her character.

The main focus of the writing WIP is a series of reoccurring dreams that Al finds herself plagued with shortly after her father forces her to awaken.

These dreams are actually memories of a past life. Specifically her first life. Where she is touched by the moon and sun and assigned a greater purpose.

Presenting the mess I made. I had something good going then I slapped paint on the page cuz I thought it was a good idea at the time and then hit a wall with what I wanted to do with it.

[starry-blue-echoes]

Okay that kinda gave me a thought

so Kira seems to like cats, right?

What if during the Centipede Shoes fight, Jotaro still gets taken out, but much later than canon because he doesn't have to take a hit directed at Koichi and specifically after he calls Josuke and Okuyasu. Then he gets a tad exploded, knocked the fuck out, Koichi gets a bit hurt and then good ol Kira shows up

But as has been made very obvious, Koichi isn’t a person this time. Koichi is just a Little Guy™ and Kira would have no reason to see him as an enemy, especially if Koichi didn’t have Echoes out right now

And what if in all the chaos…… Koichi’s collar ended up getting ripped off

So Kira takes one look at this tiny, collarless, badly injured and filthy cat and assumes it was just a stray who got caught in the crossfire and decides to adopt him, or at the very least take care of him until his injuries heal. There’s a bit of a hiccup when his identity nearly gets found out, but no biggie, he can just threaten the local Stand Beautician into changing his identity and then kill her ✨

So now…….. Koichi’s stuck. Kira is a surprisingly good and caring cat owner and pulls out all the stops, including refusing to let him outside, and Koichi is genuinely scared about what would happen should he reveal the fact he’s a Stand User. Plus, it doesn’t help that he’s healing from some pretty severe injuries and has difficulties moving around. It takes days before he’s able to walk again, and even then it’s with a limp

And of course, Shinobu is COMPLETELY on board with this. Seeing her husband return from work not only much more different than before but with a small kitty he wants to help? She is head over heels and more than happy to help

There is definitely some amount of rivalry between the two cats. On Koichi’s side it’s because Stray is just completely chill with all the murdering Kira does, and on Stray’s side it’s because of all the extra attention Kira gives Koichi. Kira has had to separate these two on NUMEROUS occasions, which eventually leads to him deciding to keep Stray in the attic to protect the presumably Defenseless Normal Not-A-Stand User Cat

I do think when Hayato starts poking around Koichi ends up revealing himself to him, if only to try and get another ally

and then of course, on the other side of things everyone high key thinks Kira killed Koichi because when they find his collar there’s blood on it which is just another tally to put on the shit list because What Kind Of Asshole Kills A Cat You Sick Fuck. And as far as Koichi’s family is aware, he died in the “gas explosion” that happened, so they don’t put up any Missing posters

thankfully they’re all very happily surprised a few weeks later when things gets solved and Koichi manages to escape :D

Once again looking through my DMs and I found an AU I COMPLETELY forgot about

AU where everything’s the same except Koichi’s a cat

that’s it

He’s the Hirose’s cat, and gets along surprisingly well with Police. He also keeps managing to find his way outside, and when he gets shot with the arrow the Stand acquisition gives him a couple more thoughts to have in that little head of his

he uses Echoes to get around faster, riding on Act 1 and 2’s backs and then just having Act 3 hold him(maybe Act 3 could talk for him?). He’ll also sneak into Josuke and Okuyasu’s bags sometimes because it’s comfy and he likes it

He’s still Rohan’s favorite, but his interest in Koichi is cranked WAY up because being a non human Stand User, any knowledge inside him is COMPLETELY fresh and new

and yes, this does mean Jotaro sent a cat to Italy

[lionfangeda]

even in a supposedly healthy relationship, mandus is a ticking timebomb depending on circumstances. no matter how high his trust levels are, he has incredibly deep-seated insecurities and trust issues in a romantic relationship, and it would not take much for them to be triggered. one instance of upset could be seemingly brushed off, but mentally cataloged, saved for an internalized strike system. too many strikes in mandus’ mind would utterly doom the relationship, and one strike alone would leave his partner unwittingly on thin ice, heavily scrutinized by mandus as he waits for them to slip up again.

he has grown with the idea of people being self-serving with ulterior motives, and no matter how much someone reassures him of their love and dedication to him, any instant of coming up short in these promises will have consequences from him.

[queenlizzie-xo]

I saw a TikTok (by @camilocarinio on TikTok) where everyone commented their cute Camilo headcanons and I wanted to share my favourites here cuz I just love them so much (no credit to me btw - and the usernames are TikTok not Tumblr):

~ if his family go somewhere to eat, they tell him to shapeshift into a little kid so they can get a discount (@meredith565)

~ if he had a crush he’d probably do that thing where you talk to yourself back and forth and he’d shapeshift in between (@komiivq)

~ he’d act super flirty with other kids his age but if he actually liked someone he’d be a stuttering mess or freeze up and accidentally turn into them (@e_x_chow07)

~ he starts drama in the town by shapeshifting (@.mirabel.encanto)

~ he’s probably the type of person that would lean against a wall or chair when trying to flirt but then falls onto his face before trying to play it off as push-ups (@..clorox.wipes)

~ he and Mirabel bully kids on Roblox together (@k4hootz)

~ he offered to share a room with Mirabel when she didn’t get her gift (@lumitysauce)

~ he used to transform into his mum to rock newborn Antoñio to sleep when she was too tired (he’s a mamá’s boyyy) (@mattmurdocksbabymama)

~ after a joke he leaves and says “another day, another slay” (@vv_viy)

~ he’s banned from 12 public areas (@ni.a.mh)

~ bro prolly knows the fnaf lore (@astutaos)

~ 1. he jumps up and touches the door frame 2. when Mirabel didn’t get her gift he absolutely refused to shapeshift until she reassured him it was okay (@princess.._alia)

~ at Christmas he shapeshifts into Santa to give out presents (@official_camilo.madrigal)

~ says “ayo” and “that’s sus” (@fuffapster3469)

~ man definitely shapeshifted into a woman in town and was accidentally proposed to 😭 (@vezeggsy._)

~ if he had a crush on you, he would shapeshift into people you knew and ask what you thought of him (@jinxsssgf)

~ he’s a cat person and asks Antoñio to tell him what his cat thinks of him (@justonesatansimp)

~ sometimes he sings in the bathroom and when anyone in the family knocks on the door he screams (@garbageeatingtrashpanda)

~ secretly talks to Dolores to make her laugh at night (@sage…skull)

~ Bruno and him have dance battles (@alexhqp)

~ he listens to CPR and is a mama’s boy (@ur_local_hijabis)

~ he dabs. (@liliththeidioteditor)

~ whenever he has the hiccups, he can’t exactly control his shapeshifting :D (@tweekster.z)

~ he pranks people by shape shifting into pretty ladies then just says “hey lol 😏” with his normal voice (@zombiiephobia)

~ when him and mirabel where younger he would shapeshift into her and say things like “I’m mirabel and I’m so pretty” to stop her being sad for not having a gift (@vflower69)

~ he eats everyone in Just Dance (@rougekitkat)

~ he has a nintendo switch and swears everytime he loses in Mario Kart (@goddesshestiaswife)

~ he goes up to Julieta and fakes an injury so he can get food whenever he wants (@hopewxrldd)

~ he knows Victoria’s secret (@missgoblinz)

~ goes around the house blurting things like “MATERIAL GWOOORL” and other audios (@yeehawavian)

~ tries to jumpscare Isabela every chance he gets (@fqucett)

~ he taps his fingers (this is canon) or plays with the curls in his hair when he gets nervous (@hopewxrldd)

~ he whispers jokes at the table and Dolores just bursts out laughing (@triggerwarningbeanie)

~ he does the “what’s that on your shirt” prank way too much (@raccishack)

~ he probably spins at the most random times (@sp_rkling) (+ bonus reply from @ptitecahuete.cos: can you imagine being in the middle of the room and then “HELICOPTER HELICOPTER-”)

~ he still probably plays Among Us (@__s.a..l.l.y.f.a.c.e__)

~ he kisses up to Julieta to get extra food (@sgt.alligator)

~ he’s the one that sneaks and gives that little boy that lives in town coffee because he isn’t allowed to drink it anymore (@londonsszn)

~ if he’s sick and Julieta isn’t around, every time he sneezes he shifts into a random person (@theacehudingupyoursleeve) (+ bonus reply from @nothingbutcloud: added to that, he has a high pitched sneeze)

~ I already know he’s excellent with kids (@fruit_queen00)

~ when the family asks him to take a picture of them, he takes a selfie (@dreamc0re_7)

~ he gets into fights with kids on Discord (@ganyuuix)

~ he made the Encanto figurines (@londonsszn)

~ if he likes someone and wants to give them a gift, he’ll turn into them to find out their sizes and stuff like that (@giovanavirginelli9)

~ when he hangs out near Isabela, he has BAD allergies cuz he’s allergic to pollen (@ihate_mysch00l)

~ he literally wears bunny slippers to bed (@hopewxrldd)

~ opens the others’ doors and either stares at them or farts and runs (@rodysoulsgirlfriendd)

~ Camilo radiates band kid energy (@goobywoobydoo)

~ he loves nose kisses (@imcamilosgf)

~ he tells his mom ur mom jokes (@nishinoyas_popsiclestick)

~ Camilo would sometimes shapeshift as a kid to help Maribel make a friend by acting like a villager (@strawberrymilk932)

~ he would be really dramatic singing along to songs like jumping on counters and stuff (I also think he’d love the song Holding Out For a Hero) (@natsukis_snapped_neck)

~ if he sees a baby crying he shapeshifts to make them laugh (@lunazroses)

~ he whips and nae naes (@mellohy)

Didn’t mean for this to get so long lol, I just kept going “aw I have to add that, that’s too cute ooh and that’s funny haha and that and that-”

[rozcdust]

Mockingbird

Pairing: Shinichiro Sano x F!Reader

Genre: Angst

Word count: 1.9K

Warnings: Canon divergent, OOC, profanity, domestic abuse, bodily harm, gang violence, dehumanisation, mentions of gore, y/n genuinely tries to be a good parental figure

You were born rotten, but he had a chance.

pt. 1 | previous | playlist

The straw that broke the camel’s back was when you were 18, just a few days before Kazutora’s 10th birthday.

The house was silent when you walked in, not an uncommon occurrence, but the stale air inside as you slammed the doors shut behind you smelled wrong.

The air was heavy with the scent of your own rotting corpse set ablaze, flashes of your own murder scene littering the walls and doors, and as you stare into your own eyes, you can’t tell if you’re the killer or the victim.

You always knew you’ll be the first to desecrate your own body.

The house felt freezing.

You tried to tell yourself everything was okay, that you were just imagining things as you took your shoes off in the hallway, your work bag tightly clutched in your hands as you crept into the living room, your heart stuck and jackhammering in your throat.

The table was broken.

The table was broken, a mess of splinters and glass shards and neither Kazutora nor your parents were anywhere to be found, and the table was broken when it was fine mere hours ago and your brother is nowhere to be found and-

The table is broken.

“Tora!” You called out, your feet carrying you to the door of his room before you could think, banging on the door, hoping to hear a response, “Kazutora!”

When none came, you forced the doors open, but he was nowhere to be found.

You started searching the rooms in the house, frantically, desperately, pushing doors open and closed and open, calling out his name as if you’re on the verge of death and all you can think about is the child you’ll leave abandoned.

The last room you checked was your own, still calling out Kazutora’s name as your eyes searched for his tiny form, hoping he is fine.

You were never a religious person, having spent years of your life with a pair of tweezers and plucking out all the broken pieces of God from your flesh, but at this moment, you prayed.

You prayed for him to be fine.

“Tora? KAZUTORA?!”

“Here.” A tiny voice called out, far too small and scared for your liking, and falling to your knees fast enough to hear an audible crack, you pulled up your covers, looking under the bed.

There he was.

The tears on his face, mixing with bruised and broken skin, made your blood boil.

“Tora, baby, come here please.” You spoke softly, tapping the floor with your open palm, hoping you sounded gentle in the way winters spent curled up under a blanket are, even if you could already recognise your own voice to be as gentle as a medical scalpel running down an open spine, “Please.”

You waited until he crawled out from under the bed, waited like an owner begging a cat to come to them waits, and when he did, you waisted no time to scoop him up into your lap and hold him close, whispering soothing words as he held onto your shirt tightly, trying desperately to stop the tears rushing down his face.

“Tell me what happened.” Moving his hair away from his eyes, you waited patiently as he hiccupped and took in shaky breaths, your fingers running up and down his back in what you hoped was a soothing manner.

Every time he calmed down enough to start talking, he’d melt down into a sobbing mess again, burying his face into the crook of your neck as you held him close, his body so small and fragile in your arms, you were sure he’d break.

He finally gained enough strength to look at you, but the way he avoided your eyes broke your heart.

“Dad disciplined me. He- He said it wasn’t anger! Just d- discipline.”

Your blood ran cold.

Inhaling through gritted teeth, desperate to keep your carefully crafted mask of calmness, you kiss his forehead gently, wiping away the tears.

Gently tilting his chin upwards so he was looking at you, you smile, pinching his cheek softly, careful to not touch the pained skin around his jaw.

“Come on, little man, it’s alright, this will never happen again, okay?”

His big, amber eyes stared at you in something bordering on doubt and betrayal, as if he’s trying to tell you that he knows you’re lying.

You aren’t.

You promised yourself long ago, that the second your father draws his blood, you’re taking your brother out of that house and never coming back.

“That wasn’t discipline, Kazutora, okay? That was abuse, plain and simple. Do you understand?”

Hesitantly, he nodded.

Outside the room, you heard footsteps and doors closing.

“Pack a bag baby, put in everything you’d like to take with you for a while, okay?”

“Where are we going?”

Sighing as you combed hair out of his face, you smiled.

“Away from here, okay? Deal?” Extending your pinkie finger, he looked at it warily, glancing up at you.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

It was a promise long overdue, but one you were finally willing to fulfil.

You allowed him to cling to you for a little bit more until his breathing evened out, your fingers tangling into his hair and planting kisses on his tearful cheeks and forehead, you waited until he was ready to move away from you.

“Tora, baby, I love you, you know that, right? I’ll always love you. You’ll always be the most important person in my life, ya’ know? I’ll make sure you grow up knowing you’re loved. You’re my little tiger, aren’t you? You’ll be fine, we’ll be fine. Okay?”

He nodded, shakily, an ‘I love you too’ whispered against your neck, barely audible, his voice so small, but it was good enough.

You smiled when he quickly kissed your cheek, getting off your lap and up, shakily waiting for you to do the same, shuffling his feet in place.

His small fingers tangled with yours as soon as you did, and you gently ruffled his hair and opened the doors.

Your parents were in the living room, your father comfortably seated and reading a book, your mother standing over the kitchen sink as she prepared dinner.

You inhaled through your nose, slowly, and pointing Tora to go to his room while you deal with the mess, you smiled encouragingly at the small, shivering child staring up at you.

You felt anything but.

As soon as the doors to his bedroom slammed shut, you once again became just a ghost haunting the house you died in, once again nothing but an oil spill in clear water, and taking a long, long breath, you felt your ribs twist and break with the weight of the world.

With no thoughts and yet too many bubbling up to the surface, you lost track of when you commanded your legs to move, or when you raised your fist and met it with the skin of your father’s jaw.

All you knew is the monster is now kneeling on the floor in front of you, and you stare into eyes the same as your own, and you feel the world collapse.

What have you become?

“I told you what will happen if you put another hand on him, father,” With cold words and pushing away your mother’s hands away from your own with ease, you took a step closer, kneeling in front of your own murderer with dead eyes the same as his and the words in your mouth die on your tongue, turning into a litany of blood and sand, “You knew and you did it anyway.”

He stares at you in the same way you must have looked at him for years.

And for a second, you consider mutilating him in the same way he has mauled you, you consider beating him into a bloody pulp the same way he has turned you from a girl with hollowed bones and dust of dying stars in her eyes to just an empty room with a sacrificial altar in the middle.

Just another slaughterhouse floor.

He knows you’ve trained yourself to become a weapon, and he let you, and now he was the one shaking, afraid, as you debated beating up so bad until you couldn’t see your own eyes staring up from a demon’s face.

But you look up just in time and you see two eyes staring at you from the doorway, peeking just enough for the light to reflect in them, and you stop yourself before you could take a step further.

Kazutora doesn’t deserve for his sister to become a monster in front of him too.

“I’m leaving, and I’m taking Kazutora with me.”

The woman who has watched you bleed until you turned grey, watched you set your own bones back into place your entire life, pulled you up on your feet, clutching your shoulders hard enough to leave bruises and as you stare into her eyes, so familiar on another face but so foreign on her own, you aren’t sure anymore if she was the victim or the accomplice.

“You can’t! A boy should stay with his mother! I’ll leave him, I’ll leave your father, Kazutora should stay with me-“

You pushed her away from yourself, taking a step back and glancing between her and your father, the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears, the sound of thousands of rust-filled scars opening back up.

You laughed.

“You had 19 fucking years to leave him! And did you, huh?! DID YOU?! No! You just let him be, and you let him do- YOU KNOW WHAT HE DID TO ME! BUT LETTING HIM DO THAT TO TORA?! HE’S 10! HE’S A KID!”

Your mother opened her mouth to stop your screaming, but you didn’t let her say a word, raising your hand in a shushing motion.

“I won’t allow you fuck up Tora the same way you did me. He’s a good kid, okay? He’s smart and kind and hardworking and he’s a good fucking kid! Do you even know what he wants to be when he grows up?! DID YOU EVER REMEMBER HIS BIRTHDAY?!”

Your mother merely stares at you, mouth opening and closing, but she has no words for you anymore.

You had to laugh again.

“I’m not letting you fuck up Tora the same way you did me. I’m taking the boy and leaving, and you two better never contact either of us again.”

“Kazutora should stay with his parents. You’re unfit to raise a child.“

Your eyes fall down on your father’s quivering form, the laugh bubbling up from inside your throat sounding more and more like the sound of broken glass, and as you remembered all the 16ths of September they’ve forgotten, all the gifts you bought with what little cash you had saved up, all the bruises you allowed to decorate you instead of the innocent child hiding in his room, all of the soft words whispered into Kazutora’s comforter when he was sick, all the futures you gave up on to take care of him, you can’t help but to agree with your father.

You’ve always been more of a mausoleum than a home.

“Ya’ think, father? I’d like to think I was cut for it. I’ve been more of a mother and father to him than either of you.”

You turned away, finally looking at the wide eyes staring at you from the doorway.

“Tora, hun, are you packed?”

Hesitantly opening the doors, he nodded softly, fingers shaking around the bag he held clutched tightly.

Walking over to him, you grab his bag from his hands, slinging it over your shoulder as you pick him up, allowing him to bury his face into your shoulder, and as you left, you refused to even look back at the two people who gave you life only to cut it apart.

But somewhere, in the tiniest corner of your mind, you forgave them.

You forgave them because if Kazutora was so perfect, so lovely, when he was carved out of the same flesh and bone you were made out of, then something must have been askew with you, something your parents had no control over must have been wrong.

If Kazutora was so good, raised in the same house as you, then you must have been born rotten.

. . . next

🔖Taglist (open):

@1818cigarettes @nana-phobia @dilf-city @wakasa-wifey @rinsie @kisekihany @missarabellla @bajifairyy @cryszus @r-xochitl @levistiddies @sanzucide @touyasghost @graythecoffeebean @yukihime-mikeys-girl @mukounisuru-gashadokuro @sunahyejin @crybabylisa @yamaguccitadashi @minoozi @trashmemebitch @frogtits1 @sup-zfam @whydohumansss @xashiui @bontens-whore @nqctre @lumi-does-some-stuff @hana-patata @hxked @erza-uzumaki @sh4nn @sisnot @soushswag @kneeapartman @anahryal @reiners-milkbiddies @satsuri3su @aretheea @bluerskiees @galactict3a @bontensbabygirl @somniari-94 @astropheia

[peterparkers-bad-youtube-apology]

The Night We Met

That Which Binds You III

Pairing: Stark!Peter x Blackcat!Reader

Warnings: canon typical violence

Summary: Time for you to break into Stark Towers. What could go wrong?

Taglist

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

With only five days of planning the job was bound to be a bit of a mess. There just wasn’t wasn’t enough time for you to execute the break in with the level of precision you preferred. You’d set up some cameras on nearby buildings to watch during the day and spent the past five nights staking out the building in person. In an ideal world you would have been able to find some untraceable way in and out, but it just wasn’t doable, the building was too well guarded.

You’d determined that your best bet was going to be the helipad. Every hour a single Shield agent would come out to do a security sweep, but other than that the area was left unguarded. All you’d have to do was take out one agent and slip inside, but it was a bit of a Hail Mary after that. Normally you were able to gain access to the blueprints of the buildings you were breaking into, but everything involving Stark Towers was inaccessible.

All you could find regarding the building's interior were a few interviews and office tours done by Tony and his wife, Pepper. It wasn’t much, but you’d at least been able to confirm what floor his lab was on. You’d considered trying to get a tour from Peter, but quickly decided against it because you hated the idea of using him.

If you had a little more time you would have tried to figure out if any of the Avengers were slated to be there that evening. At the very least you had confirmed that neither Peter nor his dad would be there that evening. Tony was at a tech conference in Europe, and Peter told you that he was going to the movies with Ned. That was two of your biggest worries gone.

“It’s now or never,” you mumbled to yourself as the Shield agent stepped out onto the roof.

You jumped off the roof you were perched on and zipped towards the tower. You fell onto the helipad just behind the agent and placed a chloroform soaked ragged over her mouth. She fell unconscious in a matter of seconds and you picked up her key card before setting her gently down on the concrete. You used her card to let yourself into the building and began looking for the stairwell.

Luckily you found it was empty, and the lab was only two floors above you. You peaked out of the door carefully after climbing the stairs to make sure no one was waiting on the other side. You climbed onto the ceiling so you could creep through the halls undetected. A few guards were patrolling the halls but security was surprisingly minimal, you managed to make it to the lab without any hiccups. Once you entered the lab you pushed a large metal table into the doorway to wedge it open in case they initiated some kind of lockdown. It seemed that everything was going your way until you got the drive plugged in.

“Intruder detected,” a robotic voice called out as alarms started to sound within the building.

You weren’t surprised, you knew there was no way you’d be making it in and out without being spotted. All you could do was hope the drive would work fast and you’d be able to run before security showed up.

“Hurry up,” you begged, waiting for a small loading bar on the screen to fill up, “Come on, come on…”

“Well correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure you’re the intruder everyone’s looking for.”

You whipped around and spotted Spiderman, hanging from the ceiling above you. You were confident in your ability to out maneuver most people, even most Avengers, but he was going to be a problem. He was faster and more agile than you, plus he’d have the advantage in the air. You had no idea how you were going to slip away from him.

“Blackcat right? Or at least that’s what everyone’s been calling you,” he hummed, “I guess it makes sense with the cat ears and all.”

“And you’re Spiderman,” your lips drew to a smirk when you addressed him, “What could you possibly want with a little kitty like me?”

“To talk,” he dropped from the ceiling and stepped towards you, “Why are you here? You’ve been targeting Hammerhead, I thought we were on the same side. You don’t need to steal from us, we can help you take him down.”

You nearly laughed at the idea.

“I don’t take sides Spider,” you purred, reaching behind yourself to grab the drive, “I’m just following orders.”

“Who’s orders?” he pressed.

“Well I normally don’t give up information for free,” you slipped the drive back into your pocket and grabbed a smoke grenade, “But maybe if you can catch me we can have a little chat.”

You tossed the grenade at him and ran past him as the room began to fill with smoke. You dove over the metal table still wedged in the door and took off down the hall. Shield agents were starting to gather but you didn’t have time to fight them with Spiderman still following you. You tossed another smoke grenade in the hall and ran up the wall, over the group of agents trying to grab you. There were even more agents waiting in the stairwell, you swept your legs under one of them, knocking him over before you threw yourself over the railing. You landed a floor down and slid down the railing to the door you’d originally entered from. You swung open the door, two more agents were waiting at the exit for you.

“Oh come on,” you groaned.

They drew her guns and Spiderman shouted behind you, “Don’t shoot her just grab her!”

“You worried about my safety Spider? That's cute!” you called back, elbowing one of them in the side of the head.

You punched the other, knocking him back before you grabbed his wrist. You swung your elbow back into his stomach and ripped his gun from his hands. You shot it at the roof before you ran out the door. Debris tumbled down in front of Spiderman, buying you just enough time to get into the air before he reached the roof. Being in the air wasn’t good for you, the grappling hooks at your waist weren’t nearly as flexible as his webs, but you needed to get out of his sight as quickly as possible.

You attempted to round a corner and found that one of your grappling hooks wouldn’t retract. Spiderman had shot a web at it, trapping it in the building it’d been lodged in. The momentum sent you slamming into the large glass wall. You swore and used your claws to try and cut through the webs. Spiderman came crashing into you before you could get yourself free. He set his hands on either side of your head, trapping you between him and the building.

“You caught me Spider,” you teased, “What now?”

“Tell me who you’re working for,” he demanded.

“Oh I’m not giving it up that easy,” you chuckled, “Don’t you know cats have nine lives?”

You slammed your head into his and brought both legs to his chest, using them to kick him off of you. Your claws tore through the webbing and you sprinted up the side of the building with him following right behind you. When you reached the top of the building you threw yourself onto the roof and went sprinting for the other end. Another web caught one of your feet and you fell onto your stomach. You flipped over quickly and attempted to cut yourself free again. He shot another web at your hand, sticking it to the ground beside your foot.

“Now,” he took a hold of your free hand, “Do you want to waste all nine lives running from me? Or do you want to tell me who you’re working for?”

You gritted your teeth and racked your brain for a way out.

“I’ll talk if you let me up,” you tried to bargain.

“How about you talk to me and then I can help you,” he offered.

“Help me?” you scoffed, “What makes you think I need help?”

“You’re obviously scared of whoever it is, I can help you get away from them,” he promised, “I know your track record, I know you aren’t a bad person. I think you just got involved with the wrong people, and I can help you get out of that. You just need to talk to me.”

You opened your mouth but quickly closed it again. You weren’t a bad person, at least you didn’t think you were. Trusting him wasn’t an option, but maybe you could use him. If he took the drive you could just tell Fisk he’d caught you, that the job was just too big. Shield would have time to warn their double agents that Fisk was after them, and no one would have to die.

You took a deep breath before finally speaking again, “Take the flash drive, it’s in my waist pocket.”

He reached into your pocket hesitantly and grabbed the drive, “Can you tell me who you’re working for now?”

“I’m only doing this because I don’t want anyone’s death on my hands, not because I need, or want, your help.”

He frowned, “What’s on here?”

“They told me it’s the identities of double agents, it could be more though. I have no idea what that drive did, they just told me to plug it in.”

“Okay,” he relaxed his grip, “Will you tell me who they are?”

You knew you couldn’t do that, if you told him about Fisk you’d also have to reveal your identity. Everything would fall apart. There’d be no more college, no more normal job, no more better life.

“No can do Spider,” you ripped herself free of his grip, slashed through the webbing, and jumped to your feet, “I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other again, try not to miss me too much before then.”

He stood by when you ran off the roof, letting you disappear into the city and out of his view. You knew he’d let you get away, but you didn’t know why. Some sort of savior complex is what you figured. He was sorely mistaken if he thought he was somehow going to rescue you, but you’d let him believe it if it meant he was going to take it easy on you.

♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥　♡　♥

The door closed softly as you could and tip-toed towards your bed. You slid your bag under your bed and dug your pajamas out from your dresser. Fisk had berated you for the better half of an hour when you returned without the drive. He’d made it clear that if something like that happened again there would be consequences. You’d expected as much and promised him to do better before you retreated to the dorm. MJ was passed out in her bed when you got back so you were trying to be as quiet as possible.

“(y/n)?” MJ croaked, squinting at you in the darkness.

“Yeah, sorry, I tried to be quiet,” you apologized.

“It’s okay,” she yawned, “How was the party?”

“It was good,” you pursed your lips, “How was the movie?”

“It was good, I wish you could have come.”

“Oh, thanks,” you blushed before adding, “You don’t have to invite me to hang out with your friends you know? I won’t be offended if you don’t.”

MJ sat up and turned on her clam shaped lamp, “I didn’t feel like I was obligated to invite you or something, I like hanging out with you, we all do. If you don’t want to go though you can’t just tell me no.”

“Yeah,” you gripped the pile of clothes in your arms and sighed, “I’m sorry MJ. I know I can be a little cold sometimes.”

“Well that’s alright, I’ll just keep bringing Peter around. He doesn’t seem to have a problem warming you up,” she smirked.

You decided it was best to ignore the comment, “I’m gonna take a quick shower, and I’m sorry again, I’ll be more quiet coming in next time.”

“Don’t worry about it, I always wake up when you come home.”

“You do? I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was so loud.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she repeated, “I like to know you got back safe anyway.”

You felt your cheeks flush under the dim light. It was a sweet gesture and you didn't know how to respond, so you just retreated into the bathroom without another word.

next chapter

꘎♡━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━♡꘎

Taglist:

@spideyspeaches @spideyssunshine @niallsvirgosun @namoreno @roseke @thevery-firstpage @emistrash @tomsirishgirlx @peachyafshawn @andreagf956 @agbspidey @sleepybesson @misshale21 @raajali3 @nj01 @prancerrparkerr @ellabellabus07 @mayal0pez @xoxomaterialgirl @belovedholland @rednights @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah​ @zspideyy​ @minjix​

[alexaplaysgames]

Can you do Felix and Mc getting into a fight

My angst brain need some

You got it bb <3 Idk if this is really that much of a fight, but I couldn't make the MC too mean to Felix. Also, I’m aware this paints baby in a bad light. I had to make them fight about something okay :’( I don’t think he’d do this in canon.

Title: A bit Bitter

Pairing: Felix Escellun x GN!MC (Last Legacy)

Words: 2564

Tags: @demon-paradise @themohawkhelmet @cactus-hoodie @aomiyeon @piningmaybeanartist @another-confused-gay @uselessbeanies @nomnomcupcakesworld @druwuuwu @frozen-daydream @kirakiratears @margitartist @crowtrinkets @fanfic-about-fictif Please let me know if you would like to be added or removed.

“Tell me the truth, Felix.”

His gray eyes dart upwards from his textbooks as I storm into the room. When he sees what I hold clutched in my hands, he swallows, the bob of his throat visible even from the doorway.

I continue in a voice that is simultaneously weak and as strong as I can manage. “Is this really how you feel?”

“W-why do you have that, love?”

I frown. His nervousness sends guilt shooting through me, but I stamp it out. I’ve bent over backwards for months in an attempt to make him comfortable, and did so gladly. But this? I can only withstand so much.

I set the notebook down on the edge of his desk with a heavy thud. Felix winces.

“The things you wrote in here, about me…” I shake my head, then look away. I can feel my eyes sting, and I bite my tongue to hold back from crying. “Felix-“

“That’s private! You don’t have the right to go snooping through my possessions.”

I sigh. Yeah, I’m nosy and read his journal, and normally I would be ashamed. I shouldn’t have done it, but… “I don’t think that’s important right now.”

“Of course it’s important!” Felix gasps, standing out of his desk chair to snatch up the journal. He meets my eyes with a fragile sort of vulnerability, then pulls the journal defensively to his chest. “I’m not privy to every thought you have. You can’t judge me for mine.”

“I would never think these things of you!” My voice raises until it edges on a shout, and I frantically rush to reign it in. “I would never.”

“That’s not-“ Felix whispers with a shake of his head. “That’s not fair.”

“No. What’s not fair is this.” I reach forward and pull the leather journal from his hands, flipping forward a few weathered pages until I find what I’m looking for.

“‘Not nearly comparable to Rime’s beauty, nor do they possess his talent with magic. They’re candlelight to his radiant sun. I’ve quelled whatever feeling has stirred in my chest and decided that I won’t settle for them. Not while my love is still hurting. And I do miss him so.”

Felix is biting at his lip as I lower the book once more, his eyes watery, wide circles. “That’s old,” he chokes out. “I swear. I don’t feel that way. I love you.”

He looks like he wants to touch me, so I step away. I shake my head. “But you did feel that way.”

“I- why does it matter? That’s private. How- how much else have you read to convince yourself my feelings for you are disingenuous? You were never meant to see any of it.” He’s wrapped arms around his thin frame, now, squeezing his eyes shut as if he wishes this all would simply go away.

“I’ve read enough.”

Felix’s eyes go wide, then dart to the journal in my hand. “Why?” I ask. “Worried there’s something worse left for me to uncover?”

“N-no.” He runs his hand over his face. “Why couldn’t you stay out of my things? That was personal! It was none of your business!” Felix hisses the last words, as close to angry as I’ve ever seen him with me. His eyes are filled with tears, but his expression if one of a rage I’ve never been in the receiving end of.

“Fuck you,” I spit out, watching him hiccup as if the words were a physical blow. “You’re a liar, Felix.” Then I simply can’t help myself but to add, “Maybe you do deserve to be alone.”

I know as soon as I say it that I’ve gone too far, and the look on his face- fuck. I don’t know if I’ll ever get the broken, hurt expression that flashes across his features out of my head. Yes, the words he’d written in that journal had stung, but I don’t feel any satisfaction from hurting him just as badly. If anything, it makes me feel worse.

All I feel is lost. My psyche weighs heavy with guilt, as well as hatred for myself for letting my patience slip. Before it can all come crumbling down on me, I turn on my heel and rush out the door, slamming it behind me with an echo that rings much to hollow to make me feel any better.

✦✧✦✧

I had frantically stuffed my few belongings into a bag and rushed to the nearest inn, flopping onto a rickety bed and crying myself to exhaustion. That had been two days ago, now, and I haven’t spoken to Felix since.

On the bright side, sending drunk texts is much more difficult to do when one doesn’t possess a cellphone.

Each night my dreams are filled with memories of his face, his smile. I can feel him in my arms, see the distinct colour of his blush each time I call him “baby” or “my sweet”. I wonder if I was over-dramatic in my reaction, but then remember the words in that journal. To think, the passage I had read aloud had only been one of many.

No. I was right to be upset.

I keep wondering if maybe the things he wrote in there were true. Yet, it’s so confusing- Felix has always had the upmost respect for me. And he’s not exactly great at hiding his emotions.

I’ve met with Anisa and Sage, both of whom seemed relatively stunned at the news. Anisa had offered exercise as a way to take my mind off it, and Sage had offered… another form of physical activity altogether, which didn’t really surprise me.

“A fight? Really? You two have always seemed like such a sappy married couple…”

I sigh. “Thanks, Sage. Really. It wasn’t even a fight, to be honest.”

“Married couples do fight, Sage.” Anisa pats my hand. “Felix is just dramatic. It will be fine! Whatever he did, I’m sure he didn’t mean it. He just gets a little… jumbled up sometimes. But his intentions are pure. At least, I believe so. You can never tell with Felix.” She smiles. “Give him some time to mope and he’ll apologize.”

“If it helps,” Sage interjects, “he fought all the time with deer boy, and they were apparently a thing. I’m sure he’s used to it.”

I refrain from telling Sage that his oh-so-helpful comment is far from helpful; in fact, it highlights exactly what I’m worried about.

Tonight, thunder strikes outside in heavy, booming claps. The room I’ve rented is lowly lit by a single candle, but the flashes of lightning outside the window often light up the entire space. Rain pelts the roof and the wind howls mournfully, as if in empathy of my crushed spirit.

I’m just in the middle of pretending I’m in a sad music video when I hear an unsteady knock at the door. At first, I think it might be a tree branch outside, being as it’s so soft, but then I hear the sound again.

I fling the wool blankets over my head with a huff and shuffle towards the door, then unceremoniously fling it open.

I should have expected it would be my necromancer boyfriend looking like a drenched cat.

Felix is sopping wet, his hair plastered to his forehead and clothes so soaked I can see his tanned skin underneath. As soon as the door opens, his eyes go wide, and he immediately looks as if he’s attempting to say something, but he can’t seem to spit it out. His teeth are chattering so forcefully he can’t speak, and the wind has whipped the wet strands of hair into his mouth.

He is so stupid. I immediately can’t help but think that I love him. I am definitely morosexual.

I blink dazedly at him for a moment, before grabbing his elbows and hastily pulling him inside.

“I’m s-sorry,” he sobs as I grab a blanket off the bed and hastily wrap it around his shoulders. I can’t tell if he’s shaking from crying or the cold, can’t tell if the wetness on his face is from his tears or the rain. “I’m so sorry.”

“Felix, it’s fine. Come here, you’re going to get hypothermia.”

I grab a towel from the bathroom and begin using it to dry his hair. He shakes his head as he pushes it away, sending droplets of water flying. “No! Listen, please, I am sorry, I am. I wish to explain myself. You deserve that much, at least.”

I sigh, then stand back and nod. I sit down on the edge of the bed. The mattress groans, as do I. “Fine.”

Felix pauses as if he didn’t expect that answer.

Then he picks at the frayed strings of the blanket around him. He shivers as he tugs it tighter around his shoulders. He licks his lips. “I wasn’t in a good place when we met.”

I nod. It was obvious then, and it’s even more so now. “I know.”

“It wasn’t healthy. I know that it wasn’t, but-” he cuts off as the thunder outside rumbles, lightning illuminating the haunted look in his eyes. “I loved Rime. More than that, I obsessed over him.”

That much I had guessed, but the confirmation does still twist my stomach.

“I was still in love with him when we met. Desperately so. I clung to the very idea of him for years. Rime adored how I idolized him, he encouraged it-“ he looks out the window as if lost in thought, then sighs. “It wasn’t you. I would’ve compared anyone to him. I did.”

Felix sniffs, then delicately kneels at my feet. “I am so sorry. I promise I didn’t truly think those things, my dear. I just felt so guilty, every time I felt anything for you. I had made myself think that he was perfect, that I could enforce my love for him through some strange sort of self-discipline.” He cringes, as if he knows how awful that sounds. “It seemed reasonable. I owed him my life.”

Apparently having said what he needed, Felix goes quiet. His eyes are red-rimmed, dark circles underneath, as if he’s been crying instead of sleeping ever since I left him.

“You are so incredibly lovely,” he whispers, choking. “I could see it even then. I was scared of what it would do to me to admit it.”

I swallow. I’m honestly not sure whether to believe him, but the look in his eyes is so earnest. Felix is many things, but he’s not one to hide his feelings, nor is he a good actor. I know deep down that he’s not faking his love for me, despite how my heart convinced me otherwise.

“If- If you’re still angry with me, I understand,” Felix stammers, though the tears in his eyes make it seem like that isn’t true. “M-maybe I should leave-“

The rain pounds harder against the windows. The wind whistles through the surrounding cracks. I grab his wrist.

“Come here, my sweet.”

Felix’s eyes widen at my use of my pet name for him, a timid look of disbelief in his eyes as he takes my hand and allows me to pull him onto the bed. I lie down on my back and guide to lay against my chest.

“I forgive you.” I almost can’t believe the words myself, but I know that it’s the only option I could ever consider. I love him. It’s a simple as it is complex.

“You needn’t-“

“I do. It wasn’t right of you to say those things, but it was also unfair of me to get so angry with you over something you wrote a long time ago. I know your old relationship really took a toll on you. Besides, I said some awful things to you too, Felix,” I continue, reaching up to brush his bangs back from his forehead. He trembles, leaning slightly into my touch. “You don’t deserve to be alone. I wanted to hurt you like you hurt me, and I shouldn’t have. Okay?” I wait until he finally nods to continue. “And I’m sorry for going through your things. I betrayed your trust, and you were right to be upset.”

Felix goes a little slack-jawed before he finally breathes out, “O-of course I forgive you.”

“I’m glad, because I don’t think I could live without you.”

He stares at me for a moment longer before he lurches forward and kisses me, desperate and wanting, full to the brim with both apology and forgiveness. It tastes if the salt of his tears and the cold rainwater that runs over his cheeks. He’s shaking the whole time, and I tug him tighter to my chest. I can feel his heart racing through the fabric of our clothes.

“I love you, sweet.”

“I love you too,” Felix hiccups, “so much.”

We spend a bit longer like that, tangled up in the bedsheets with Felix soaking through both our clothes. Eventually, I pull back.

“Did you really wait until it was storming to show up and apologize?”

A sheepish laugh as he flushes. “I had t-thought it would be romantic. Like in my novels. I didn’t realize it was pouring quite so hard.”

His cheeks are a flaming red and he looks away like he expects me to be upset. I sigh to hide my fond smile. All I can do is kiss him again.

“I’ve brought you something,” Felix murmurs, his lips so close to mine that they brush, his eyelashes wet against my cheeks. He reaches back and takes the leather notebook, the stupid source of all our fighting, out of his coat pocket. It’s surprisingly dry.

I can’t help but want to smack that stupid book out of his hand. “Felix, why would you do that?”

He rolls his eyes, then gets up and stands off to the side of the bed. The room lights up green as his entire hand, the journal with it, are suddenly engulfed in flames, until nothing but ashes sift through his fingertips, drifting down to settle against the wooden floor.

“You’re my future.”

He’s so dramatic. I love him to pieces.

I grab his waist and all but tackle him back onto the bed, delighting in his surprised squeak.

“Stop!” Felix yelps as he falls back against the mattress, only to be assaulted by my cuddles, “I’m positively soaked; I’ll drench the sheets.”

I can’t really say that I care. We have a lot of making up to do; I’m not spending a second without him by my side for the rest of the night. Felix grumbles a final complaint and then sighs. He wraps his arms around me and presses his cheek into my chest, and I can’t help but think he feels the same.

“I didn’t enjoy that,” he mumbles, turning his face into me to hide his expression. “Being apart from you, it- hurt. I missed you.”

“I missed you too, baby.” I’m just realizing how much. His scent and the feel of his hair against my skin, his voice. He’s invaded my senses once more, and it feels like coming back to life.

He turns to look up at me. His cheeks are rosy and his hair mussed, droplets of water clinging to his eyelashes and temples. God, he’s so adorable- I don’t know how I could ever stand to be angry with him. “I don’t want to be at odds with you anymore. I love you too much.”

I boop his perfect nose. “Deal.”

[ga-lee-tica]

congrats on opening requests!! yo can u plz hit me with some of those miraculous ladybug bug and cat team headcanons 😔😔 yknow those heroes probably t word eachother on a daily basis

AAAAAAH THANK YOU. Seeing this request made me so happy! I've got hcs for both Ladybug and Chat Noir and then some random hcs for characters that we dont know too much about .With that said, hcs coming right up!

Ladybug:

CANONICALLY TICKLISH

Lee:

I'd say she's 8/10 on the ticklish scale

As a lee she could either be shy or teasy

SQUIRMER

Even just a poke to the side will get her squealing

Usually gets tickled by Chat Noir or Rena Furtive

If she's been tickled for a while she starts snorting

Her laughter is very contagious. It's a beautiful mix of squeals and hiccups

Will hide her face in embarrassment

If she is in a lee mood, she will purposely mess with Chat. Unfortunately he is too oblivious to notice so she just has to ask him for tickles

Her worst spots are her sides and hips

A very cute lee

You better watch out

Ler:

She is a menace to lees everywhere

We all remember what haooened to Darkblade and Miraculer (Miraculer? More like MiracuLEE)

Can and will trap people with her yoyo

She complements the lee's laughter and teases in a sing songy voice

Imagine a feather quill as a lucky charm

Although she isn't the person to start a tickle fight she would definitely put up a good fight

She literally went "Want some more?" When tickling Miraculer. If that isn't teasy then I don't know what is

Will usually tickle Chat to knock him down a peg

In conclusion: Evil

ADORABLE

Chat Noir:

Lee:

10/10 on the ticklish scale

Isn't used to being tickled since he had no one who WOULD ACTUALLY SHOW LOVE TOWARDS HIM (I'M LOOKING AT YOU GABRIEL)

He is everyone's number 1 victim

Melts into the touch

PURRS

Can't handle belly rubs or chin scratches

He is a kicker

You can automatically tell he's in a lee mood as he becomes more shy and blushy OR he's more cocky then usual

He's too shy to ask for tickles so he has to provoke someone

His worse spots are his tummy, and neck

Usually gets attacked by Ladybug for his goofy shenanigans

Usually he is very teasy but he does has a soft side, especially if Ladybug is the lee in the situation

Ler:

Can be quite cocky

Will always make sure that the lee is comfortable

The most flustering teases you'll ever hear

Cat claws

Will make puns related to tickling just to fluster the lee

Evil grin

Overall: He's just evil when he wants to be

Other hcs for other characters:

TICKLE FIGHTS ARE SO COMMON AMONG THE HERO TEAM.

Usually Ladybug, Pigella, Vesperia, Viperion and Polymouse win the fights

Pigella can use her power when someone is in a lee mood and fluster them even more

Rooster Bold's weapon is literally a quill. AND HE IS A WRITER

Caprikid's weapon is a paintbrush. AND HE IS AN ARTIST

Caprikid and Rooster Bold are the unstoppable duo that no one can take down in a tickle fight. Just imagine a soft feather-like touch on your sides only to find someone writing the word "ticklish" on them

The item used to create a sentimonster is a feather. I think we know where that escalates

Polymouse can divide herself and can attack everyone's spots all at once.

Weapons like the yoyo, skipping rope, spinning top and the bolas (Purple Tigresses' weapon) can be good for trapping people

Viperion will call everyones laughter a "harmonious and catchy rhythm that you can't get enough of"

Just picture Miss hound getting belly rubs (She's also canonically ticklish)

Minotaurox is the person to go for soft tickles (He's also canonically ticklish). He's the gentle giant that always makes sure that you are confortable

Carapace can use his power to try and protect his worst spots

King Monkey is quite the teaser.

Rena Furtive. She can watch and use people's ticklishness to her advantage as she is a spy now

People that have ears on their costume are at a disadvantage

They are all cute lees and evil lers

[redrosesartcabin]

Kenji x first perspective female reader:

Things happened

—————————————————

(Hey, how is it going peeps! This was requested by @xxno-0xx . I hope you all, and especially the requester, like it. Only one warning: It involves some swearing, so if you don’t like that don’t read. If the requester doesn’t like it, please tell me and I’ll edit the story! Also: The story plays somewhere either between season 2 and 3, or somewhere around season 3. Though not in a canonical episode)

It’s crazy how things sometimes happen.

A very vague description, I know, but it’s the only way I can convey how I feel.

Things happened that made me have the opportunity to go to Jurassic Worlds Camp Cretaceous.

We had won the league as the best female Baseball team, with the price being -besides the typical golden trophy and some media glory- a trip to Camp Cretaceous for one of us. And as the team leader, I was chosen as the one who can go.

“Oh no it’s fine!”, I had said. I already had a funny feeling about the trip. But they all had insisted, “it’s fine”, they had said, “it’ll be cool” they said.

Oh and weren’t they just so right. I am super peachy.

Practically prancing through the jungle and killing Dinos with my little finger-

Ok that’s enough, I think y’all got the gist: The shit had hit the fan.

Things happened, that made everyone be gone, and suddenly it was up to us to survive on this pretend Prehistoric nightmare.

At least my beloved baseball bat had survived the fall of the Camp Cretaceous building. After that discovery I didn’t let go of it anymore. I took it everywhere with me, hitting every living being that even dared to breath in my new found friends direction.

Friends… I had never thought, before the evacuation of Jurassic World and all that crazy stuff happened, that I’d ever call any of them that. I hadn’t really found any of them to be friendship material. I love baseball and building things out of wood in my free time and had a dry, sarcastic sense of humor. The only person in the group who had come close to that was Yaz, but she had been so closed off, that I couldn’t really tell before we became a group that fought for their survival. Darius also had been ok, but I was older than him and we didn’t have anything in common, so that checked itself out. Everyone else sort of annoyed me in one way or another. Especially Kenji’s pompous ass. He had appeared very full of himself and just generally narcissistic, or at least painfully self centered and pretentious.

Now imagine how surprised one might be, when one figured I was crushing on the guy.

Let’s just say, that things happened that made me see Kenji in a completely different light.

Turns out he has a good enough sense of humor to catch my drift when I speak “in sarcastic” as he likes to call it. Turns out, he was a loyal and fun friend. Turns out he was just a lonely soul, neglected by a father whose work is more important to him than his own son.

Everything turned out different than it appears about him. He still sometimes annoyed me with his pranks and especially when he wouldn’t shut up about his wealth. The latter however became very apparent as the means to show that he was someone, although he didn’t need to prove that anymore. But of course he would think that’s how people would like him, his father had taught him no better.

The first thing I mentioned somehow makes me love him even more. It annoys me, gets such a rise out of me, that it’s somehow funny again. It gives me a spark and Kenji seemingly seems to enjoy seeing that spark. And him enjoying that spark makes me somehow happy as well. It would start with a cat fight and ended in rigorous laughter.

“Why so serious?”, he would sometimes ask when I’d respond with a glare towards him when he’d steal my bat for what felt like the fifty millionth time.

“You’re getting so creative. I barely saw it coming”, I answered dryly and one could practically see the words alternating between being written in small and big letters.

“Well then you should have no problem finding your sweet baby bat then”, he cooed. Looking deep into his dark brown eyes and almost devilish handsome grin made me both want to punch and kiss him, which may have made me irritable and even madder.

“Finding? Why should I find anything if I have a living and breathing treasure map. Come here!”, I demanded with a creepily sweet grin as I’d walk towards him. Then he’d run, I’d run, we wrestled for a second on the ground only to break into a laughing fit, rolling on the floor, crying tears, resolving this nonsense prank and then getting back to either relaxing or fighting off Dinosaurs… again.

I didn’t think, however, that anything could happen between Kenji and me.

For many a reason, though only two are essential: For one, we were busy surviving, one barely had time to get downtime with the group, yet alone for themselves. Secondly, I didn’t really know, or couldn’t really tell, if he felt the same. Maybe it was my own insecurities coming to light or something, but I just couldn’t really believe it.

Seemed unlikely.

But then things happened.

Kenji and I were on the run from an especially nasty, big Dinosaur. We had been collecting some water in big canisters and wanted to head back to camp when it sneak attacked, unexpectedly.

It snared at us, opening its huge mouth, showing a row of thin, long, sharp teeth.

“Fuck off, you tooth pick mouthed asshole!”, I hissed back at it, flailing my bat at it in panic.

The reason for my irrational action was mainly, that we were stuck between two huge rocks, backed up against another rock with no way out.

Maybe hills or mini-mountain were a better description, but it’s also not important.

All that I could think of was that we were stuck and that little fucker wanted to eat us.

“Calm down, y/n, this isn’t making anything better!”, Kenji tried to reason with me. I was close to shouting some obscenities at him or a dry ‘got a better idea, genius!?’, but this time his dark brown eyes, that often had a mischievous twinkle, calmed me, instead of creating the usual spark. I crawled closer to him as we were pressed to the stone wall.

The Dino however wouldn’t give up. Vehemently, it pressed its ugly snout between the walls, stretching its uncomfortably wet tongue towards us and exhaling a nauseating breath.

I was paralyzed, as I looked at that thing, not knowing what would happen next.

Suddenly, I felt my bat being taken out of my hand. I watched as Kenji took on a fighter stance, the bat positioned over his head, ready for the hit.

“What are you doing! Didn’t you just tell me that we should calm it?”, I asked. He turned around, a frown adorned his face, “I said you should calm down”, is all he answered before he darted towards the animal.

“NO!”, I heard myself scream. I had never heard such a sound come from my throat. It was shrill, loud and all in all I couldn’t recognize myself. I was terrified, even more than when I first caught sight of this beast that had brought us into this situation.

Everything seemed to pass by in slow motion as I saw Kenji swing the bat towards its snout. At first I thought it was over for him as the Dinos mouth opened, the teeth seeming to scrape Kenji’s head, that’s how close it was to him… but then I saw Kenji swinging the bat again, directly hitting its head so that it flew against the stone wall. The beast wailed in pain, seemingly backing up, and just like that, it was gone.

“I… I made it”, Kenji first whispered, before he laughed, repeating, “I made it!”, even louder, jumping into the air and forming a victory fistbump in the air.

“That was awesome! Did you see how- Y/N?”, Kenji’s joy subsided as he looked into my angered expression. With a swift motion I took my bat back, glaring at him as I pressed out, between gritted teeth “let’s just go, hero”

Kenji seemed to have caught the sarcastic undertone of me calling him a hero, because I could physically feel his mood shift closer to mine, “hey what’s with that attitude? I just saved our lives!”

“By doing what I also wanted to do. Great!”

“You were panicking! I don’t know if you would’ve gotten a good hit by panicking. Besides, I couldn’t risk you getting hurt!”, he explained.

For a second I could feel my heart flutter, but that didn’t help my opinion on what just happened.

“But you were ready to risk yourself?”, I asked, my tone bitter.

“Why are you so mad?”, he asked, “we are safe, what more could you want?”,

“I-“, I stopped in my tracks, thinking. Yeah: What was I so mad about? He was right, I had panicked. Panic never helps with concentration and right decision making. I found it impressive, that he had the courage and the focus to fight the Dino off. But I just couldn’t fight off the thought of it going wrong. What if he would’ve been eaten?

“What-“, I wanted to repeat what I had been thinking, but could feel a hiccup, breaking the tear flood inside me. No- I was not going to cry. I took a deep breath, looking directly into his confused visage, “- what if it would’ve gone wrong, I’m just… I- I wouldn’t have known what to do without you. I can’t imagine being without you anymore”.

I saw and heard him gasp, his glance unfreezing from his confused state.

“I didn’t realize I was that important to you”, he answered.

I chuckled, too embarrassed to look him in the eyes, “everyone is important to me from the group, I wouldn’t have liked any of them to risk their lives for me but- but especially not you. I- I can’t believe I’m going to say this - I had vowed to take this to my grave ya know-“

“- Get to the point”, Kenji urged me.( I wasn’t looking at him, but he later told me he had smiled whilst saying it, I however thought he was getting annoyed and was almost too scared to continue. Stupid how that sometimes works)

“- I, eh- I’m in love with you I think. Or at least I definitely feel very strongly for you”, I confessed, “there! Now you have something to use against me. Finally got something you can laugh at again on this miserable Isla-mpf”, my self deprecating monologue was interrupted by soft lips catching mine. It almost took my breath away, but then I leaned in, still not believing this was happening, though it definitely was.

“I’m not going to laugh, I love you too. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to risk everything if I didn’t”

“That’s cheesy, but I appreciate the honesty”, I said, wearing my usual shit eating grin as I regained confidence back.

“Oh look who's talking now”

“Oh shut it!”, I laughed and just like that, I found myself kissing him again.

“And here I thought I had to worry, but you two just ran away to make out”, I suddenly heard Darius in the background, half serious, half amused by the moment he found us in.

I quickly broke away from Kenji, grinning sheepishly, “You know how it is Darius: You get chased by a Dino, and then you need a kiss to make the boo boo go away… just so happens I got a bit of a chap on my lips, and Kenji wanted to make it real good again”, I explained, earning a silent chuckle from Kenji.

Darius rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hold back a smile either, “let’s get you love birds home”

————————

And so things happened. Did we have much time to enjoy us being a couple? Not really.

Did more things happen, making everything crazier and tougher?

Did the rift between Darius and Kenji make me anxious as I was sitting by Kenji’s side, as he, with an expression that was too serious for my liking, drove the yacht?

Absolutely.

But I know, that at least he’s by my side still, as am I, and we will make things happen so that we can finally be free from this place.

Hopefully, we’ll make it.

Depends on what the Dino on the yacht has to say about it...