#and does those little affectionate headbutts
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Okay so you know how petting a purring cat can lower your blood pressure?? Okay imagine that but JoePunk. When Punk gets unnecessarily pissy about something Joe gets comfy with him wherever they are and makes Punk scratch his nails through his hair until he calms down.
#Joe purrs obviously#and does those little affectionate headbutts#WAIT.#I just thought of that I’m a genius#joepunk
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when their tsum courts their crush
I write reader as female
Masterlist
♠️ DEUCE SPADE ♠️
i love the fact that tsum tsum deuce is basically delinquent deuce, only smaller and cuddlier
like deuce explains, he’s very aggressive and quick to anger - it has no impulse control and can and will fight (i.e. headbutt/drop itsy bitsy cauldrons on) anyone
like, unlike its human counterpart, it doesn’t even pretend to behave or be seen in a positive light, let alone act like the model student deuce is aiming for
but, like all things, there is an exception - and that, dear prefect, is you
you see, tsum deuce is an absolute terror to everyone - everyone except you
in fact, the second it sees you entering the rose maze (trey had you on speed dial the second tsum deuce appeared - everyone say ‘thank you, trey’) it comes bounding over to you and just leaps into your arms
and it just…stays there, all happy and content
and you just look down at this tiny, happy little angelic bean in your hands whilst every single person in heartslabyul is just gawking at how this demon just did a complete 180 degrees personality flip the second you showed up
human deuce is absolutely red faced and has suddenly become very interested in the grass whilst everyone is just giving him the biggest side eyes
so you, being the kind-hearted, altruistic person you are, just smile at the bean in your hands and cheerfully inform everyone that you wouldn’t mind babysitting tsum deuce until crowley finds a way home
everyone except deuce (and grim) is happy with this development
now human deuce already finds it hard to talk to girls but he especially finds it difficult whenever you’re around because he’s literally got the biggest crush on you and has been dying to confess but is way too shy to
but tsum deuce? tsum deuce has no such inhibitions
it will cuddle and snuggle and nuzzle up to you, rubbing against your cheek as it sits on your shoulder or hands as it rests in your palms
tsum deuce likes to grow big so that it can 1) be carried around in that child hug carry that parents do and 2) sit on your lap like a bond villain cat so that you can stroke its head and body
human deuce is not happy with either of these
like tsum deuce is just basking in your endless affection and endeared giggles whilst deuce is suffering so much that even ace gives him somewhat-sincere consoling pats on the back whenever you’d call the little tsum ‘sweetheart’ or ‘dear’ or ‘poppet’ or ‘darling or ‘angel’ or ‘cutie’ - and the list goes on…
what’s worse is that whenever you’re not looking it gives the most deadliest glare to its counterpart and when you turn around it looks back at you like ♡✧(^ ᴗ ^)✧♡
like deuce knows that he’s supposed to keep his head down and nose clean like a good little honour student but his delinquent switch is wobbly on even the best of days and seeing you be so happily touchy-feely with that smug little rascal really does not help those buried instincts
don’t get him wrong, he’s flustered beyond belief at the sight of you being so affectionate to his lookalike but his annoyance and jealousy take precedence
it all comes to a head when the cheeky bugger decides that its had enough of just receiving your kisses and just full on plants his ‘mouth’ on your lips
it takes everything in deuce to not full on punt it into the sun - especially when you look so flustered as a result, a gorgeous blush spreading across your features as you giggle at the little thing
deuce narrows his eyes - game on
❤️ ACE TRAPPOLA ❤️
@disney when are we getting tsum tsum ace? He’s the only first year to not have a marketable plushie
now ace has no problem with you being affectionate to his tsum
at first
you see ace and his tsum get along very well since they have very similar personalities
the two knaves of hearts just love causing trouble and making mischief together
but being so similar means that at some point they’ve got to clash
and clash they do >:)
when you come strolling in, tsum ace happily greets you and you, having been filled in on the situation (“thank you, Trey”), are more than happy to keep it entertained so you pet it and coddle it and dole out your sweet affection
and, honestly, it was a huge ego boost to see his crush being so sweet with a smaller version of himself
of course, he’s going to be all ace about it and tease you like “why are you so affectionate with mini me? do you have a crush on me or something? don’t worry, i understand - i guess i’m too irresistible even as a tsum” with his signature grin
but then the novelty is very quick to wear off when practically all of your attention is being given to the little bean - especially when he realises that his tsum has just as big as a crush on you as he does, and he’s very quick to act on it
like human ace, tsum ace flirts by peacocking, living off of your praise like it’s the oxygen it breathes
and unlike human ace, tsum ace doesn’t tease you, which kind of gives him a head start
basically tsum ace is an ace who doesn’t hide his insecurities and feelings for you behind a guarded wall of playful teasing and fake carelessness
it would show off by doing card tricks for you, using its own miniature deck it got from seven knows where to do all sorts of tricks - that do genuinely impress you
and with every successful trick you’d clap your hands with stars in your eyes and fondly coo at it
and it would eat all of your praise up – with every flirty behaviour you would enable it with more positive reinforcement, spurring it to get bolder and bolder and ace is absolutely dying next to you
ace has a habit of ruffling your hair so tsum ace likes to sit on your head as you go about your day and everyone can swear they see sparkles surrounding the two of you
(ace doesn’t notice because that’s what you look like to him anyway)
you even gave mini ace the glacé cherry on the iced bun you had for dessert that day, hand-feeding the sweet fruit right into the little tsum’s mouth right in front of Ace’s cherry pie (and no, not even the taste of his favourite food can wash away the bitterness corroding his tongue at the sight of you and his tsum getting all buddy-buddy, not when something so much sweeter is just out of his reach)
quit paying attention to it! doesn’t it have its own y/n to flirt with?!
then, at one point, tsum ace has conjured up a tiny rose and has gifted it to you
“for me,” you smile at the tsum and the tsum nods, happily jumping up and down in front of you, “oh you shouldn’t have.”
you carefully take the rose from the tsum and gently pick the tsum up and place a kiss right on its head
“thank you, tsum ace,” you say, giggling with fondness, “that’s for being such a sweetheart.”
ace’s hand clenches around his magic pen and he swears right then and there that it’s no more mister nice guy – no more hiding behind poorly crafted taunts in fear of what ifs
he’s confessing to you by the end of the day even if it kills him
🦁 LEONA KINGSCHOLAR 🦁
honestly, leona couldn’t care less about the little things that came from the sky - not his circus, not his monkeys
though he was kind of miffed when his dorm thought he had turned into that stubby little thing
he’s surrounded by idiots
he just palmed his own tsum off to ruggie and went off to the botanical gardens to nap
it was during one of his relaxation sessions that he heard your voice, only you were talking to someone
turns out that ‘someone’ was his own tsum that was happily snoozing on your shoulder
apparently the little guy didn’t take kindly to being babysat by ruggie so it literally hunted you down and refused to leave your side
you didn’t see any problem with this
so you just continued on with your day with a tiny version of the big kitty of savanaclaw
please understand that leona is a very jealous and greedy lion - he gets incredibly possessive if stray cats get close to you, let alone when you shower Grim with your affection - and now there’s an equally as greedy mini leona that’s demanding your attention
like it made it clear that it was trying to monopolize your attention, tail swaying in delight as you would pet its head or play with its ears - all things that you’d do with the bigger leona
it would jump up and press its head against your forehead, cheeks and mouth so you would kiss it back with your own lips (and leona just looks at the little judas all betrayed because you’ve never kissed him ever and he’s just so angry and jealous that he doesn’t even tease you about it)
so instead of spending time with him, where he rests his head on your thighs as you weave your fingers through his hair, you’re playing around with the tsum, giving it the affection that was rightfully his
at one point, it was still dozing off so you placed it nice and snug in the breast pocket of your blouse, making Leona’s right eye twitch uncontrollably when he could tell that the little deviant wasn’t even actually sleeping
honestly, he scoffs, faking sleep is the oldest trick in the book - and he knows that because he uses it on you all the time
you even played chess with it, and to leona’s surprise it was actually pretty good, only his slight amusement at watching you lose was tainted by how you were suddenly praising it for being such a good player - he’s good too! praise him!
he had finally reached his limit when his tiny doppelganger used its growing abilities to be large enough for you to wrap your arms around and bury your face into, your lovely features smiling in content as you happily sleep, unaware of the burning jealousy and intense scowl leona is giving the tsum in your embrace, or of the smug satisfaction said tsum is radiating
now leona is a man of strategy, of patiently waiting until it’s the right time to pounce, so for now he’ll just settle at baring his fangs at the little runt - he’s spent his entire life being second best (both to his brother, his nephew, that damned lizard), there is no way he’s going to be outshone by a furball that has no idea of the hierarchy of the food chain here. you’re the one thing in his life that he refuses to have taken away, even if it is by himself
and when you wake up?
you better be prepared
💙 IDIA SHROUD 💙
tsum tsum idia is such a sweetheart
while it does have idia’s social anxiety, he does hang around with you through the halls though by ‘hang around’ he’s usually buried in your pockets
tsum idia doesn’t have og idia’s fire hair but it does run naturally warm, which makes it the perfect warm pillow for you to snuggle with
idia didn’t have any strong feelings for his tsum. ortho loved it and it made you happy and that was it.
but it soon became a problem when it made you too happy
you see, idia had made a tiny little tablet so that you could play with the tsum whilst he was busy doing one of his own games
and like his counterpart, the tsum was good
too good
so good that you kept on praising it and snuggling with it every time it won
and apparently the tsum was in possession of some preloaded charm stats because it would keep on endearing you by texting you blue heart emojis or cute stickers that would make you coo at it
and watching you be so outwardly affectionate to someone that wasn’t ortho or grim definitely stung inside
even if that someone was a cuter, cuddlier, plush bean version of himself
so he just amped up the volume in his headset to drown out the sounds of your laughter and continued playing as he internally lamented how he was such a boring otaku that even a tsum has better moves than him
when it got late and you were about to leave (much to idia’s disappointment), you stood up only for the tsum to jump onto your shoulder and happily jump in place
“oh,” you giggle, “do you want to come to ramshackle with me?”
the tsum jumped up and down, indicating yes
“alright then,” you smile and turn to idia, “i guess we’ll see yo-”
“no-” he blurted out, the ends of his hair bursting into pink at the sudden silence that envelops the room, “i-i mean, you can stay. here. not here my room here - like here in ignihyde here. we have a spare room. unless you’d like to sleep over here in my room. if you want to that is. you don’t have to if you don’t want to infactyoucanforgetievensaidanythingohmysevenwhydidihavetoopenmymouth-”
“it’s okay, idia, i understand,” you say, “looks like we’re having a sleepover!”
maybe he should be a bit braver more often
#twst#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#twst x reader#deuce spade x reader#twisted wonderland headcanons#twst headcanons#leona kingscholar x reader#idia shroud x reader#ace trappola x reader#fem reader
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hey have you missed me (say yes Pleas eple)
anyway. more of a modern au but... little weirdo freak dream who becomes weirdly obsessed with this one dreamer of his. he's a pretty man named robert gadling who always has the most interesting of dreams. well, they're pretty normal, but maybe dream has a soft spot for the dreamer, so what?
he spends hours in the waking and dreaming waiting for him to go to sleep. tries to be discreet as possible when following him in the waking but someone is bound to notice that a raven is everywhere they go, right? well, gadling - or hob, as dream has found his friends call him - never thinks of it as something weird. he fed dream a piece of his bread when he first noticed him, and he thinks he keeps coming back for food.
"oh, my little raven friend again!" he says as he picks off a piece of whatever he's eating, sets it down for dream. "I was wondering where you've been, my friend. how have you been?"
he's certain hob doesn't expect an actual answer because, you know. he's a bird, how is he supposed to understand him? or reply, for that matter. but, he gets an affectionate little chirp and a gentle headbutt against his hand each time. then, gadling goes on to tell hob all about his day too, always murmurs something about how crazy he must look, talking to a bird.
as for during the dreaming, he can be a little more discreet then. morphing into whatever he pleases to watch hob in his dream, if it would make sense for him to be there. it's always a bonus if he somehow gets to interact with hob. maybe he's a little weird, okay? that's what death says, anyway, when she asks what he's been up to.
during a nice summer day in june 1989, he finally gathers the courage to talk to the man plaguing his thoughts. he shows up in something that would make sense for the times. well, it was nothing special in the first place. a long sleeve tshirt, a blazer over it with shoulder pads, and jeans. his hair is slicked back and he finds he hates the texture of hair gel. but, he fits in fine. maybe. he does get a few odd looks, though, considering his outfit is quite near all black.
dream walks into the pub the human seems to frequent, not at all surprised when he walks in because maybe he did some spying before coming, just so he wouldn't be embarrassed. death would likely tease him with how he was just vibrating with excitement.
he goes to the bar, slides in right next to the human and asks him what he's having, he's never been to this bar before. hob turns his head to him and slowly blinks, as if he's just been asked an incredibly difficult question.
"oh- uh," he replies intelligently as he swirls around the liquid in his bottle. "just, you know. an old ale."
dream nods, orders one of those. certainly a taste. silence passes through them before hob speaks again.
"you're the man of my dreams, aren't you?" he asks, before realizing how stupid it sounds. "I mean- my dreams. you're there. your eyes are darker, though, never the pretty blue like now. though, I suppose they do glow a faint thing of blue."
dream blinks, he never thought the human had realized. "you- well, yes, I suppose I am the man of your dreams." a short laugh as he lifts the bottle back up to his lips. liquid courage, or something like that.
"it's nice to see you in person for the first time, stranger."
something something they fall in love i don't know i didn't want this to be super long but i think i already crossed that line. i also know Nothing about drinks in england so. Forgive Me.
- 🤰
I read the words “weird little freak Dream” and I FALL IN LOVE. Hell yes I’ve missed you!!! And this!!! Is so pure. I’m obsessed with Dream having an absolute schoolboy crush on Hob, who is just… livin his life. Hanging with his raven pal. Corvids are so cool! And apparently this one likes him!! And it’s nice to have a lil friend who doesn’t judge him. Dream is a good listener, even as a bird. Yes maybe he’s being a little weird but he can see how Hob cheers up whenever they sit on a park bench and Hob feeds him bread chunks.
All he has to do is that. But as a human. With less bread involved.
And god, Hob being so accepting that this guy from his dreams is in fact real and is now hanging out with him at the pub… SO in character for him. I love him. I love this premise!! It’s the sweetest little fairytale. I want to see them fall in love in a million ways!
I think Hob would definitely vibe with an ale btw. Something very dark. And I also firmly believe that he pulls the best pint of Guinness you’ll ever see. When Dream does it it’s 90% foam. Hob has a lot of dreams about teaching him to do it properly some day.
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This is gonna be probably the official post of the headcanon of Sun Wukong and Sha Wujing having this brotherly relationship.
This is not gonna be a whole post about me talking about it, but I'll simply say the list of things i imagine them doing (each time I see something that could happen i will edit this post and add it. Feel free to suggest!)
• Sun Wukong was Sha Wujing therapist cat.
sun wukong was very small compared to wujing, and with how weirdly wukong acted, wujing saw wukong as a small cat.
Wukong always used to purr when petted by wujing, used to headbutt wujing affectionately and tried anything to make wujing feel better when there were those nights.
it was like having a feral cat who hates everyone but you, and became your therapist somehow.
• wukong and wujing often talk about their problems.
It's more of wukong listening to wujing than the other way around as wukong never really spoke about his problems, but there were times where Wujing helped as well.
• Wujing used to brush wukong hair, they were ruined yes but at least they didn't have knots.
Wukong answered with grooming Wujing hair and bread.
+ wukong putting flowers in Wujing hair.
• wukong used to hide in Wujing hair.
I always imagine Wujing to have a lot of hair, to the point you could compare it to the princess from tangled (it reached down till his feet actually, not as long as hers.) And it was very puffy. So wukong, with how small he was, he could always hide in it if he wanted.
Wujing beard was also long, but not as much.
Wukong can't do it anymore with sandy.
• wukong usually sits on his cloud, but sometimes he sits on Wujing.
Or stands on top of him and screams at the top of his lungs "I'M THE RULER OF THE WORLD!!"
• wujing picks up wukong in different ways, most times he picks him up like a cat and let wukong sits on his hands, sometimes he picks up wukong by the neck, like mother cats do to their children, and sometimes he just picks up wukong like a bag of potatoes.
But there are times where wukong gets picked up and squeezed in a hug. Which doesn't really hurt, but it's Wujing way to say that he needs his little therapist.
• wujing once tried to help Wukong with his eyes, who are constantly irritated because of the furnace.
it didn't help at all, but wukong appreciated.
• wukong knows that wujing isn't immortal. That's why he's gentle to him.
He's not gentle with bajie for shit, and he has to be gentle with the monk or the monk will die.
• some habits never change, wukong still does most of these things to sandy because wukong has the constant reminder of wujing with the blue guy.
• no because i headcanon wukong being this kid who never shut up if he's comfortable enough, he's talkative as shit (un logorroico che nessuno lo batte vi giuro), but he never shows that side to anyone but wujing.
Wujing has to hear him talk about how bananas aren't in the monkey natural diet.
• wujing has the older brother vibe and wukong has the younger brother vibe.
• wujing 🤝 wukong = being headcanoned trans by me
• Wukong became a good guy only because wujing believed in him shut up let me have this if wujing wasn't there wukong would have killed everyone in less than a second shush let me have this let me have this
• I DIDN'T FORGET ABOUT THE DOLL.
WUKONG HAS A DOLL OF WUJING WITH INSIDE HIS ASHES BECAUSE WUJING DIED BURNED BY THE SAMADHI FIRE FROM AO LIE.
SHUSH.
BEST HEADCANON HERE. I LOVE YOU FOR WHOEVER TOLD ME THIS DOLL AND ASHES THING.
• you know raph and Michelangelo in tmnt? I want what they have with wujing and wukong.
• wujing is the youngest (in order of disciplines) but acts the oldest, wukong is the oldest but acts like the middle child, and baije acts completely like the youngest who gets constantly bullied by the middle one.
• wujing is the one with most hair, wukong has literal fur but he styles it to look like hair, bajie is bald.
• wukong has basically and constantly the zoomies, but while for wujing it looks like wukong is simply energetic or well, being a monkey.
For others it's like the embodiment of hell just started possessing sun wukong.
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I wrote this probably almost a week or so ago and uploaded it everywhere but here. Oops.
Here’s a uhhh Sozo/Reader cult of the lamb thing. Platonic or Romantic, up 2 you.
The air had gotten colder in the past few weeks, bringing a soft chill in the almost endless autumn that took hold of the lands. You were used to it, of course, having traveled for quite some time in search of...Well, that part was lost on you. Something meaningful, probably. Something better?
Now definitely wasn’t the time to think about it as you tucked yourself closer to the warmth you had cuddled into earlier. A pair of arms met just under your own, squeezing you just a little tighter with a chuckle. In return, your hands buried themselves into the fluff that you weren’t entirely sure was fur, part of the jacket your friend wore, or something else entirely. It mattered not, as running your fingers through it elicited the same response either way from the large ant. You supposed it was akin to petting a dog or cat-- just a simple social thing, really, you reacted the same when you felt something run through your own hair.
Weren’t ants known for being rather physical to communicate anyways? ...That was an awkward question best left to yourself, rather than announced plainly out-loud. It didn’t matter much, it was a nice gesture and way to pass time in these lands that often seemed harsher and harsher by the day. Being a traveler not drawn to a cult, constantly evading and avoiding any bishop you could, it made it harder to settle down and stay with any friends you may have made. That’s why you felt lucky to be able to visit the grotto often, hidden away from anything else and without pressure to stay apart of this place. It was almost like a small safety net in a world of danger, though it felt ironic to call it such with its...mushrooms. You knew they held an air of danger, as your friend and the leader of this place told you such. Sozo often warned you not to mess with them too much, not wanting his little friend to become ‘brain washed’ or any other negative effects.
...This often made you wonder why he himself was so obsessed with the menticides, if they were truly that deadly to others. Those types of thoughts never lasted too long, simply being replaced with the knowledge that Sozo knew what he was doing, after all he had been here for many years. Instead, with a simple sigh you gently sunk your head into the ant’s fluff, crinkling your nose at the slightly musty scent when you did such. A second pair of arms wound their way around you, ruffling your hair affectionately with a comfortable sigh.
“Sozo does not understand why you do not bring a jacket when visiting!” He huffed playfully, “You always seem so cold.”
You laughed softly, nuzzled further against Sozo, “It’s not that cold out. ‘Specially like this.”
“Well! That is because you leech off Sozo’s warmth! Cruel to do such a thing!”
Your brow quirked with a snort, pushing off the ant and tilting your head, “Leeching? You must really hate this, huh?”
Sozo squinted down at you in amusement, leaning to headbutt you affectionately before responding in a sarcastic manner, “Oh certainly! Sozo clearly cannot stand you.”
You snorted in amusement, lifting a hand to pet along the red markings adorning the ant’s cheek, watching his eyes close fully as he relaxed into your touch with a gentle smile. Even if half the time in the world it felt more like you were only surviving instead of living, it was worth it for the small moments like this. Worth it to keep fighting and hiding from the bishops and their sacrifices, even though at times it seemed near impossible to do for long. You’d keep trying and surviving.
“Hmm...What are you thinking about?” Sozo hummed after a moment, squinting an eye open to curiously stare at you, “Sozo can tell something’s on your mind.”
“Uh? Oh-- oh, nothing terrible,” You responded, quieter than you had spoken before, “I’m just-- glad, to not be caught by the bishops. To have my freedom like this, y’know?”
“Ah ha ha! Yes, yes, Sozo has to agree with that! Far better to be free than to be anywhere near those nasty old creatures!” Sozo chirped back, pulling you back closer with his bottom most limbs, “Sozo is so glad you visit! It can get so boring...”
“I’m glad I visit too...This is nice. I wouldn’t want to miss out on the small things like this. It’s more of a…wonder how long it’ll last, I guess. When it’ll end...”
A pair of hands lifted your head up, squishing your face affectionately, “No! Don’t worry about such things, silly! You’re mourning for something that’s still here right now! It lasts as long as it lasts! Sozo doesn’t worry about it, you shouldn’t either!”
You smiled lightly, giving a gentle nod of agreement, “I guess you’re right. I should enjoy things while they’re here...”
“Of course! See? The sun is out right now, and things are still growing! There is nothing to worry about!”
You glanced out, noting the still light blue sky outside of the cave, noting it was around midday about now. Right. The sun was still out and you were still safe, there was no use thinking about such things.
After all, for all you know, things could always change with the bishops. It wasn’t up to you to worry about them so much. You had better things to think about, like this moment now. The few moments of warmth and kindness in this strange, strange world.
It made things just a bit more worthwhile.
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dinotopia au
I hate you for this,,,
"Clever girl," Izuna croons at the raptor perched on his arm, digging her claws into the thick leather arm guard he's wearing for this exact purpose. She's preening, showing off her shining feathers. "The cleverest, smartest, most precious girl ever–"
"... Izuna," his brother asks from behind him, voice flat, "did you get your pack to steal more sunstones?!"
Izuna winks at his lady—and the captive audience of the rest of his pack, spread out in the surrounding foliage, no doubt waiting to see if they can get a compliment as well—and turns around to face his brother, carefully resisting the urge to pat his pocket with the incriminating stone. "Me? Them? Oh, we would never! We were just practising running messages again."
Susanoo, looming up behind Madara like she usually does, lowers her massive head to snort into Izuna's face. "Little hatchling," she says, deep voice reverbrating and sending a shiver down Izuna's spine as it usually does. She's magnificent—deadly—terrifying in her own right, but hearing her speak will always add that extra bit of impressiveness. "Little mischiefmaker. Don't lie."
Izuna eyes the gleaming rows of teeth right in front of him and then goes on his tiptoes to smile up at his brother's companion. "My lady," he starts, armed with the surety of being the only other human besides Madara who she'll deign to speak to, on account of him being Madara's little brother, which somehow makes him her hatchling. (Don't ask). "I did not get them to steal sunstones—they decided that on their own." He reaches out to pick a bit of leftover meat out from between teeth as long as his hand. Before he can decide what to do with it, the raptor still perched on his other arm snaps her head forward to snatch it right from his fingers. Well, if she wants to eat that...
"Hmmm." Susanoo tilts her head sideways to growl warningly at the raptors assembled behind him. They scatter with high-pitched squeaks. Even the one on his arm deserts him, the little traitor.
Madara has crossed his arms and is raising his eyebrows. Or he's raising the visible one. Who knows what goes on behind the curtain of hair over the other side of his face.
Izuna sighs and moves to scratch at Susanoo's nostril. "There was another large Senju shipment going through the Basin," he tells his brother quietly. "They won't notice a few missing stones."
"We can hardly offer them peace if you keep stealing shit."
Izuna frowns. "If they're rejecting peace over a few stolen trinkets that we need a lot more than they do..."
Susanoo hums. "You lot do need to eat an inconvenient amount of plants, and those will only grow here with the stones." She gives Izuna an affectionate headbutt before she straightens up again, which means he stumbles back several steps and would've fallen over if Madara hadn't grabbed his arm. "You two should talk through that peace proposal." She exchanges a glance with Madara before turning to leave, probably to chastise Izuna's pack some more.
Izuna mouthes "yes, mom" at her back.
Madara slaps the back of his head, hand staying to tousle his hair and ruining a perfectly good braid while doing so. "Come on, then. And hand it over."
Izuna sighs.
#raptor speaks#prompt raptor hours#celebration prompt raptor hours#ask#naruto#naruto founders#uchiha izuna#uchiha madara#my writing#my fanfic#dinotopia#dinosaurs#just to be clear i did NOT look up anything#this is entirely made out of vague memories from like 15+ years ago#anyway.#Madara is bonded to a talking T. rex#i don't care about dinotopia canon he just has a talkign one okay#yes the T. rex is female yes she's called Susanoo#hashirama is bonded to some sort of titanosaur of course#tobirama either gets a mosasaurus#or he's a skybax rider#i find the mosasaurus way funnier though#deadly but absolutely useless on land#Izuna has an entire pack of velociraptors in scientifically accurate sizes#(they will still kill you of course)#(and steal all your shit)#also i have no idea what's the plot here i just. izuna raptor shenanigans and madara t. rex things okay
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what does your muse smell like? his natural scents would be sea salt and pine trees. a hint of mint. if its raining, he can also very much get that wet dog kind of smell on himself. on bad days he will smell like dirt and blood. the smell of blood might linger more than others.
what do your muse’s hands feel like? they're surprisingly soft; almost feminine to a degree. the length at which he keeps his nails to preserve his claws likely doesn't really help that impression. one would expect them to be all shrivelled up from the large amounts of time he spends in the water, but as an aquatic creature, his body is used to that and doesn't react in such a way.
what does your muse usually eat in a day? while noah has to regularly feed on human flesh to not go into a frenzy at least once a week, he hunts for humans far more often than that. he rarely skips a day, sometimes he hunts even multiple times per day. that is because unlike most creatures, any other sustenance is not filling for him. he can enjoy the taste, and he's developed a certain oral fixation for having something in his mouth to keep his mind busy. in-between his proper meals, he likes to snack on smaller things, such as chips, candies, chocolate bars, but also some soft fruits, like peaches.
does your muse have a good singing voice? no. not at all. i guess it's not awful but it's not really pleasant either. you could probably stomach it for a little while. unfortunately, noah likes to sing, so it won't be for just a little while, and he does not care if others like hearing him. his animalistic noises are more pleasant to hear— especially his orca songs.
does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks? he bites his nails. surprisingly, he's also rather easy to fluster because he's not used to receiving compliments or affection and therefore, doesn't know how to handle those. so he tends to freeze up and blush a little. if it's too much, he has the tendency to run away; usually into the ocean or the forest, whatever's closest.
what does your muse usually look like / wear? he appears pretty casual. his clothing variety is very small because he doesn't buy nor steal a whole lot of them. at one point, he simply grabbed some pieces just for the sake of not running around the human settlements naked, and he's been wearing the same two or three outfits ever since, unless someone provides for him. at least his frequent swims keep them clean...? nonetheless, he prefers baggy clothes; likes to wear hoodies. since he's naturally colder than most creatures ( though not cold-blooded ) he doesn't get very bothered wearing extra layers even in warmer temperatures. still prefers walking barefoot, but if neccessary, he'll wear some simple sneakers.
is your muse affectionate? how much? how so? surprisingly, very much so. though that naturally depends on the person he's with— he'll never be any level of affectionate with a stranger or someone whom he considers an enemy or prey. but if it's someone whom he's grown to enjoy, he'll constantly be in their personal space; leaning against them, pawing at them, etc. etc. he'll even try to cuddle up with them for sleep if the person allows ( purely platonic. he is now your big bad pet wolf ). unfortunately, this is a part of himself that he'll often deny if pointed out, and if he is called out on it, he will distance himself for some time out of spite... but it never lasts too long. his favorite are head pets, although he's more open to other parts of his body being petted as a wolf, since he feels a little put off by people trying to pet his fleshy human body if there's no fur. it's the gentle tug to his fur / hair that feels good while you run your fingers through it. also shows affection through headbutts or gentle bites / nibbles.
what position does your muse sleep in? he tends to sleep curled up in the fetal position or curled up into a ball as a wolf. however, he's a light sleeper, and it's very to easy to wake him up— this comes from his orca part, because orcas don't ever fully lose consciousness while asleep. only one half of their brain does, and their alternate between each one periodically, while slowly swimming close to the surface. noah likes cozy places to sleep in, so he doesn't usually sleep in the ocean— he will generally retreat to his nest on the surface, and since he is mostly nomadic, that place changes quite often depending on the location where he is currently staying. but it is usually something hidden away, something borderline claustrophobic where he can just snuggle up with the collected bedding material.
could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room? not unless he's being loud for any reason. his loudness mainly comes from getting overly excited while talking to someone, and even then the conversation has to be stimulating in a certain way to get his animated like so. otherwise, noah is surprisingly quiet. he likes sneaking up on people.
tagged by: @lured-into-wonderland
#< headcanons. >#// actually putting in it in the offical hc tag because these are good questions rather than just silly quizzes#// but!! ty for the tag i've done this one a while ago on my other blog it remains just as good a meme
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Thinking a normal amount how at first k'otos catlike features and behaviors repulsed emet selch and made him angry bc they served as a reminder of how mankind has changed and fallen since the sundering, he hated seeing someone with his beloved's soul acting like. That. (Even though K'oto was literally the guy he'd been looking for all these years cat and all but he wouldn't know that til it was already too late) BUT the more time they spent together as he started to fall for him he started to love those things...the way his ear twitch and move to show his emotions, the way his tail swishes when he's happy and puffs up when he gets scared or angry and how he uses it to show affection by brushing it against people, the way he often gets distracted by glints of light and bugs will just watch them for a while sometimes, the way he stretches so big he shakes a little and yawns so big you can always see his fangs, the way his pupils change shape with the level of light in the room (he really loves to watch them change he finds it fascinating), the way he kneads at pillows before he lays down on them and sometimes kneads emets clothes when they're cuddling to show how comfortable he is, the way he makes all those funny little sounds like purring and meowing in various forms and the little 'mrrrp' he does when you catch him off guard or when he gives an especially affectionate headbutt (he loves the headbutts too)...and yeah the rough tongue too but also for innocent reasons he thinks it's fun to watch K'oto eat super sticky things bc he has to smack his lips a bit to get it off his tongue and it's cute....tldr he loves him!! He loves him so fucking much!! He is not the man he once loved but that's ok because he's a new entirely different man he loves NOW!!!
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hi!! so you’ve done leo getting hurt during the greyback game and Finn getting hurt during a Tampa game, so I was wondering if you could do Logan getting hurt and then the aftermath of that? thank you!!!
Oh, Tremzy, how I love you. Character credit goes to @lumosinlove!
TW for minor injury, blood, fight
Logan Tremblay did not back down from a fight. Especially not one that dropped itself so nicely into his lap.
“Bitchass motherfucker,” he snarled, jamming his elbow into Hanes’ gut as they grappled. Hanes had three inches on him but was built like a twig—one solid shoulder jam into his sternum, and Logan heard his breath rush out around a grunt.
His own helmet was long gone and the whistle warnings blasted sharp in his ears; a set of hands locked onto his upper arms and began dragging him away. “That’s enough, Tremblay,” the ref barked. “Hanes, you better not—”
Logan didn’t hear the full warning, because his vision went dark.
The blinding pain hit before the spots in his eyes fully cleared. Something warm was gushing down his numb lips and chin. Logan tasted metal, and raised a clumsy hand to check until his knees gave out under him and the ref had to haul him upright a second time. “Oh, shit,” he said thickly, blinking down at the crimson drips on his jersey.
People were shouting. Nothing good came from people shouting, as a general rule. A blurry face swam into view and he nearly went crosseyed trying to focus. “Lo? Lo, hey, look at me.”
“Hey, Harzy,” he managed as he stumbled to his feet and immediately listed forward into Finn’s arms. “Woah.”
“Oh—Jesus, Leo,” Finn muttered. Logan squinted to follow his line of sight and whistled lowly when he found the intended target. Sometimes, he forgot how strong Leo was. How those broad shoulders filled out his goalie pads like he was born for it, how his long legs could take him across the ice in a few strides, how one ungloved hand could easily hold a grown man by the scruff of his jersey and drag him to the nearest ref. He even gave Hanes a light shake when he tried to squirm free.
“That’s hot,” Logan said approvingly. The rink had started to spin a little. His face felt like it was on absolute fucking fire. “Harzy?”
“Yeah?”
“My mouth tastes weird.”
Finn cursed again under his breath and tugged his sleeve down, then pressed it beneath Logan’s nose in a familiar routine. It was their own little dance they had been doing for eight years, now—Logan fights, Logan bleeds, Finn soaks up the blood, Finn looks after him for the next day or two with the occasional affectionate “idiot” thrown in as compensation.
“Did he hit me?” Logan asked as they shuffled toward the bench.
“Headbutt, the motherfucker.”
Logan attempted a grin; from the look on Finn’s face, it came out as more of a grimace. “Hey, that’s what I called him. Did you know helmets are really fuckin’ hard?”
“Yeah, baby, I did.”
“Did I win the fight?”
“Mhmm.”
“Is my nose broken?”
Finn sighed. “For your sake, I hope not. Hey, Layla.”
“Logan Tremblay,” she huffed with a shake of her head. Logan had never heard his name used as an insult before. “C’mon, concussion check.”
“I feel dizzy,” he agreed, allowing Finn to transfer his weight to her shoulders like Logan was a ragdoll. “Layla, I can still taste blood.”
“That does not surprise me, bud,” she half-laughed. “Pain level on a scale of one to ten?”
“Eight. You ever had someone shove un piment up your nose?”
“A what?”
“Un piment.” Logan’s ankles wobbled for a moment before he righted himself. “Desolé. Ah, it’s the tiny, spicy vegetable? Tastes like hell.”
“Chili peppers?”
“Ouais.” He tried to smile and instantly regretted it as the diagonal lines returned to his vision. “This feels like someone put a lot of chili peppers in my face and I would really like to be unconscious right now.”
“Not on my watch.”
His adrenaline was fading fast, along with the delirious confusion. Logan was quite unkindly informed that both of those feelings had acted as a pad and distraction for the, frankly, excruciating pain that radiated all the way from the back of his throat to his forehead. “Oh, fuck.”
Layla stopped walking. Through the blur of involuntary tears, Logan could see the concern flooding her features. “Logan? Hey, eyes on me. What’s going on?”
“I can feel it,” he forced out through gritted teeth, though the clenching of his jaw only made the throbbing worse. “Fucking shit motherfucker—oh, that is so much worse.”
“That’s broken,” she said, almost to herself. “Okay, ten more feet and we’ll be in my office. Take it nice and slow.”
Logan blew out an unsteady exhale, then nodded as best he could. Calm thoughts, he reminded himself. Calm thoughts.
----------------
“Who is it?”
“Just us.”
“I need cuddles and at least two kisses, s’il vous plaît.”
The squeaky sneaker footsteps picked up the pace and Logan smiled, cracking an eye open when they halted by his bedside. Leo raised an unimpressed brow. “You broke yourself?”
“He broke me,” Logan corrected, accepting Finn’s gentle kiss and reveling the butterflies that came with it. “And then you did something about it, so we’re good.”
“Concussion?”
“Just the nose.” He made kissy noises until Leo finally bent and brushed their lips together, skimming his thumb over Logan’s jaw. “I can’t feel my upper lip en ce moment, so I’m sorry if my kisses aren’t up to par.”
Leo frowned slightly when he pulled back. “You’ve got a little split in it.”
“Mmm. Not the first time. Cuddles?”
“Layla said we have to be gentle,” Finn informed him, tucking himself along Logan’s left side. “But I think this is an essential part of the healing process.”
“Ouais.” Logan leaned his head on one angular collarbone and held out his free arm with an expectant look; for all his fussing, Leo didn’t hesitate before claiming his place and resting a hand over Logan’s stomach. “Stop worrying, Knutty, mon dieu.”
Leo made a disgruntled noise into the bend of his neck, then left a small kiss there. “You’re broken. Of course I’m worried. How’s your pain?”
“I got ice and the good stuff. Can’t feel a thing.” That was a bit of a lie—he could still feel his pulse all throughout the bridge of his nose and into his back teeth, but Leo didn’t need to know that. It was manageable. There was no reason for anyone to worry more than they clearly were. Logan tilted his head to the side and let his eyes fall shut again, snuggling into Leo’s damp curls while Finn looped their fingers together.
He felt Finn’s chest buzz with a hum. “We got your stuff together, by the way.”
“Didn’t even think about that,” Logan mused. The freckle just above Leo’s eyebrow was looking far too lonely for his liking, and he pressed a light kiss to it. “Hey, Peanut, I saw your fight.”
“What fight?”
“Hanes.”
“Didn’t fight ‘im,” Leo mumbled, rubbing the side of his face on Logan’s shoulder.
“No, you just dragged his ass halfway across the ice,” Finn teased.
A small, pleased smile curled over Leo’s lips. “His skates stayed on the ice the whole time. He was fine.”
“Mauled his ego, but other than that…” Finn trailed off as the three of them dissolved into laughter. Logan tried to breathe in through his nose on instinct and winced. Both Finn and Leo went still. “Lo, you good?”
“Je vais bien,” he groaned with a light smack to the back of Finn’s head. “I told you to stop worrying.”
“We’re your boyfriends, it’s our job!”
Logan huffed. Stubborn. So rude. “I’m not made of glass.”
“Then you get to carry your own bag back to the car,” Leo teased. He patted Logan gently on the chest and sat up, leaving his side cold; his brows pitched. “God, you two are so cute.”
“We try.” Finn stretched until his feet fell over the end of the PT table, then pushed himself upright despite Logan’s noise of protest. “Let’s go, Tremblay, you need a shower and I need a snack.”
“Layla has snacks,” Logan grumbled, even as he hauled himself into a sitting position and blinked to clear the fizzy spots in his vision. “She’d share.”
Leo crinkled his nose. “Layla has healthy snacks.”
“And butterscotch.”
“Grandma candy?”
Logan raised his hands in a gesture of peace. “Sometimes it’s good.”
Finn and Leo each went to wrap an arm around his lower back before Logan batted them away, rolling his eyes. Two boyfriends, and both possessed by my mother. His jersey was a lost cause—even a few rounds of washing wouldn’t get those bloodstains out—but his pads were in a neat pile that made it easy to tuck into his duffel. Despite Leo’s earlier words, Logan barely got a hand on the straps before it was snatched away. He scowled, but Leo just smiled sweetly.
Finn sidled up to him the second they made it into the hallway and looped an arm around Logan’s waist with a comforting squeeze to his hip. Logan sighed through his nose despite the awkward whistling noise that followed. “Harzy…”
“What?”
“I can walk. I don’t need help.”
“See, I don’t think you understand the point of having two boyfriends,” Finn said. Logan quirked a brow; Finn knocked their temples together lightly. “It’s not about needing anything. You get to let us help.”
Logan narrowed his eyes. “I don’t want to.”
“Well, that’s the point of me having two boyfriends.” He turned a sunny smile on Logan and kissed the tip of his bruised, battered nose. “I get to help you whenever I want and let Knutty do the hard work.”
#logan tremblay#finn ohara#leo knut#oknutzy#my fic#fanfic#sweater weather#coast to coast#cubs#lumosinlove#fight#injury
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Hugging you close but it still feels too far
♡Genre:Fluff with angst at the end
♡C!Schlatt x GN!reader
♡Format:Fanfiction
♡Summary: Schlatt feels a headache coming on but thankfully you've come at just the right time to help it go away. Unfortunately, a different kind of ache rears its ugly head.
♡WARNING: Self-loathing thoughts on Schlatt's part.
"Are you fucking serious right now?" Everyone in the meeting room flinches as Schlatt spits out those words. His glare forces everyone in the room to look down at their laps, not daring to make a single peep as the president starts to slowly lose his temper.
This whole meeting has been quite a mess, with employees coming late and important documents being misplaced and forgotten. Honestly, Schlatt's usually drunk off his rockers 24/7 and yet he's surprisingly the most prepared for this meeting compared to the rest of his staff.
"Y'know what, fuck it, we'll continue this another day, this isn't important right?" It kinda was important but everyone in the meeting room nods along anyway and says that moving it to tomorrow won't exactly make much of a difference. "Good, good, now get the fuck out, all of you, right now."
They don't waste a single second in scrambling to get out of the meeting room and out of Schlatt's sight, fearing the consequences if they were to stay.
Schlatt sighs and leans back into his chair, massaging his temple. He feels a headache coming on, he needs a drink.
"Why is it that everytime I come to visit you at work your employee's always look like they're on the verge of passing out from fright?" Oh, nevermind, maybe he won't need that drink after all, it seems that someone better just popped in.
"Well hello to you too, sugar," Schaltt pushes his chair away from the desk, looking up at you with a giant grin. "Lock the door behind you, will you?"
(Read more placed, heavy self-loathing thoughts under the cut.)
You roll your eyes but do as your told, the door clicks shut and Schlatt lets out a sigh, opening his arms out wide.
"...Really? Here?" You can't help but be a little suprised by his action, knowing how he likes to keep the 'mushy shit' on the down low.
"I have a reputation to uphold, sugar," you remember him saying to you countless of times whenever you tried to get physically closer to him in public, "and I can't let that be ruined by all of this soft and sweet bullshit, understand?"
"Are you sure?" You feel like you're being fooled right now, this feels very out of character for him, and truthfully it is, even he feels weird doing this, but a part of him is aching for you and all he can think of is having you by his side.
"...Please..." ugh, you hate and love it when he used his manners, it always made you give into what he wanted way quicker than you should. Deciding that second guessing won't do anything you give him what he wants, sitting on his lap and letting him gently headbutt your cheek and under your chin.
"Do the thing I like," he demands, resting his head on your chest. When you don't move quick enough for his liking, he takes matters into his own hands quite literally by grabbing your hand and placing it on top of his head. He lets out a satisfied groan when he feels you running your fingers through his hair, helping him soothe his headache with your gentle touches.
"I'm pretty sure if your employee's could see you now, they'd probably stop being so scared shitless of you knowing that you like to be pet," you can't help but tease him as you watch his face shift into one of absolute bliss as you kiss his temple and hold him closer to you.
"I will bite your jugular clean off if you tell a single soul about this, you hear me?" As if to prove a point, he presses a hard kiss to where your jugular should be, tickling you a little with his facial hair.
"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say Mister President."
After a while of your gentle carasses, he lets out a big yawn, his grip on your waist loosening and his eyes growing heavy as you continue to massage the top of his head carefully. He starts to ask himself when was the last time he properly cuddled with you back home in the safety of your shared bed, it's probably been ages.
'Maybe I should change that,' a distant part of him thinks.
'You keep saying that idiot, but literally nothing ever changes, if anything you keep getting WORSE.'
...Oh, fuck no. It's starting again, those stupid thoughts of his that whisper in the back of his head everytime he finally has a moment of silence with you. He just wants one day without them, one day of just letting you love him like you're supposed to, is that so much to fucking ask for?
'You keep asking for way to much, ever notice that?'
'They love you enough but do you ever show them that you love them back?'
'Fucking useless, it's only a matter of time before they start seeing you that way too.'
God, he wants them to shut up, please just shut the fuck up. Please-
"Hey," he jolts slightly when your voice shakes him out of his aggressive growing thoughts, "getting tired there, princess?"
He wants to argue with you that he isn't sleepy at all and to never call him princess again but as another yawn escapes him, he decides that maybe a nap isn't the worse thing in the world right now and that pet name argument could always be brought up another time. He doesn't verbally respond to you, choosing instead to nuzzle closer into your chest and shutting his eyes.
"Don't even think of leaving me alone here before I wake up, (y/n)," it's more of an order than a threatening warning with how sleepily he slurs his words. If you weren't practically on him at the moment, you swear that you wouldn't have been able to make out his mumbling demand.
"Of course I won't, you big baby." You struggle to stiffle a small laugh when you hear him groan and lazily hit your arm at the affectionate insult. "I'll always be here by your side for as long as you want me to."
He can never stop his heart from aching whenever he hears you say such sincere words like it's practically second nature to you. Why is every part of you so genuine and why does it hurt him much more than it should whenever you do anything remotely loving to him like he deserves it. Maybe that's why he doesn't always come home to you like he's supposed to.
'You don't fucking deserve any of this,' a sudden thought of his screams, causing his heart to jump. His fingers grip onto your shirt for a moment by instinct when he feels that thought linger longer than it should have.
"Hey, you okay-?"
"Fine!" He cuts you off quickly before you can properly finish your sentence. "I'm- I'm fine, it's just the usual shakes. Im going to sleep so kindly shut the fuck up, alright?"
He doesn't give you room to respond as he nuzzles even harder against your chest and goes back to closing his eyes. He tries to steady his thoughts again and after awhile he thinks he's finally succeeds in doing so. He can feel himself slowly starting to drift off but before he can do so, the light brush of lips can be felt on his temple. He knows what this usually leads to and he silently pleads for those words to not spill from your lips but of course they do, they always do.
"I love you."
Schlatt knows that any hope for a dreamless slumber is lost as his heart and head fills up with guilt like it always did when you held him back home, whispering sweet nothings to him thinking you were lulling him to sleep when instead you were only fueling the thoughts in his head to shout at him louder and louder.
He constantly scolds and reminds himself that all of this isn't worth it, that he should just end things with you now to stop the constant cycle of personal torment, but Schlatt's never been known for being a rational person who cares about the well being of others, and it seems that it translates to himself as well. Really, as angry as he wants to be with you for all the heartache you cause him, he knows that there's truly no one else to blame for his pain but himself.
A/N: Will I ever be able to write c!Schlatt content without making it sad? Apparently not- ^^' I just really love angst when it comes to him. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed reading this!
(Requests are open and anon is on!)
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KISSY THAIS OMG,,,,,
S-SHE JUST.... SHEEEEE 🥺💖💖💖
SHE JUST LIKES TO REMIND PEOPLE THEY'RE LOVED 😭❤️❤️❤️
SHE'S SO CUTE I CAN'T AAAAAAA SO CUTE AND SOMETIMES SILLY, I ADORE THE LITTLE GOAT GIRL 😭💖
SHE JUST FEELS HAPPY AND WANTS TO SHARE THE FEELING WITH OTHERS, WITH THOSE SHE LOVES AND ADMIRES 😭💖💖💖
WANNA FALL EVEN FURTHER???
SHE WILL GENTLY BONK HER HEAD AGAINST PEOPLE SHE LIKES WHEN SHE'S FEELING AFFECTIONATE TOWARDS THEM. AGAINST THEIR SHOULDER, ARM, BACK, CHEST, FOREHEAD IF SHE CAN REACH IT
Like how goats headbutt each other, but she does it ~softly~ ...and maybe you'll hear a muffled bleat 😔💕💕💕💕💕
SHE'S TOO STUPIDLY CUTE I CAN'T HSKSBKSHRKSBEKD 😭😭😭💖💖💖💖💖💖
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*another sigh*
Tubbo shows affection two ways, one is rubbing his head gently again those he likes and another is gentle little headbutts.
He does this instinctively, most of the time not even realizing what he's doing. He'll randomly rub his head against Ranboo's arm or head when Ranboo is sitting and he can reach. He'll often gently bonk Ranboo in the chest or back.
Ranboo doesn't point out this behavior, mainly because he enjoys it and thinks Tubbo would stop if he did.
I hate them so much /affectionate
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Zibeline
Happy birthday, @tsuki-chibi! This one’s for you. 😘
A Christmas gift exchange story with unintended (though not unwelcome) consequences.
Read it on Ao3.
This is not the first time it’s happened. It is, in fact, not even the fourth or fifth. It’s like he has a sixth sense or the fine-tuned hearing of a fellow feline, that leads him straight to them.
Often, it’s just one cat, skin and bones and scrounging in an alley for restaurant scraps. Sometimes it’s an entire litter, abandoned and alone, mewing frantically in search of a savior. Once in a while, he finds their mom there, too, ragged and worn and tired from life on the streets.
It always ends the same way.
Chat Noir knows the location of every animal refuge in Paris, their hours, and the names of each employee and volunteer he’s met so far. Several have even set up crates in a secure area for the cats he brings after closing. It’s amazing that it hasn’t made the news in all these years, but somehow, Paris’s own black cat has humbly and quietly saved the lives of dozens of the city's neediest felines.
Tonight, Ladybug accompanies Chat Noir to the SPA to drop off a one-eyed senior tomcat they came across on patrol. His solitary eye is cloudy with age, one ear torn from a long-ago fight, but he purrs contentedly in Chat’s arms, his demeanor as gentle as the hands that hold him close.
Once the cat who’d been affectionately dubbed Pirate upon his discovery is safe and secure in the little pen, Chat sends the rescue a quick email from his communicator to let them know about who they’ll find the next morning. Baton returned to his back, he crouches down for one more scritch behind the old grey tabby’s ears.
Ladybug is used to this, well aware after several years of partnership that her own kitty’s heart is a fathomless well of kindness, but it never stops warming her heart to see it. Without thinking, her movement mirrors his, reaching out to scratch behind his leather ears, her gloved fingers tousling his hair. His faux cat ears twitch, and he glances up at her, grin radiant even in the dim light of the refuge foyer.
“Okay, cat whisperer, let’s go. It’s almost midnight.”
He nods, still grinning, and turns back to tell his new friend goodbye.
“They’ll take good care of you here, Meow-seur Pirate, I purr-omise. Cat’s honor.”
Pirate meows his appreciation as Ladybug fondly rolls her eyes.
One hand kiss, one ‘sweet dreams, Buginette,’ and one chilly swing across rooftops in the crisp December air, and Marinette can finally crawl into the warmth of her bed and curl up against her cat pillow to go to sleep. The feline theme suddenly seems so prevalent in her life that she can’t help the snort of laughter she muffles behind its ears.
Tikki zips over to hover in the air above the bed. “What is it, Marinette?”
“Cats, Tikki. Everywhere. Cats.”
They share a giggle as the kwami settles down on the pillow to rest.
“You like cats, don’t you?” she asks. “I’ve seen a cat in some of your family portrait sketches.”
Marinette can feel her face heat up. “Tikki!” she admonishes, before trailing off into laughter again. “I love all animals! Well, almost all of them. But no one loves cats like Chat Noir.” She sighs in mock exasperation. “Give a guy fake ears and a tail and suddenly he’s a magnet for strays.”
Silence falls in the darkness of the loft, sleepy and comfortable, before it’s broken by Tikki’s tiny voice.
“You know, I think it has less to do with his miraculous and more to do with his heart.”
Marinette smiles against the pillow. “I think you might be right, Tik.”
********
Even if Père Noël no longer visits, Christmas is still exciting when you’re a teenager. If nothing else, there’s a two-week break from school to look forward to, and Marinette is counting down the days until she can shelve at least one of her many commitments, albeit temporarily. Alya, on the other hand, is living for the class gift exchange.
“I hope I get Nino this year,” she whispers excitedly, dumping her bookbag on the table and sliding into the seat beside her best friend.
Marinette’s brows furrow in confusion. “Why?”
“So I can give him something awesome and win Christmas, obviously.”
“But...if you give him a gift in class, what will you have for him on the actual holiday?”
Alya wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and gives her a sly smile.
Marinette laughs and elbows her, ears burning, just as the boys walk into the room. Nino gives a quick wave and Adrien settles into his seat with a soft smile toward the girls behind them.
“Damn, Sunshine. I hope you spend the holiday break sleeping. You look like you need it.”
Adrien leans back toward Alya, blond hair brushing Marinette’s desk. (This does not go unnoticed.)
“I think we all know that’s not going to happen,” he replies with a wry smile.
Alya pats his shoulder consolingly. “Truth.”
********
The morning slides by, and Ms. Bustier ends the lecture early before they break for lunch. She leans against her desk, holding a bowl in her hand and shaking it gently. It takes a long moment and a deliberate clearing of her throat for the students to focus on her instead of packing up their bags. She smiles kindly at them once she has their attention again.
“I’d have done this at the end of the day, but not every student will be with us in class then, so we’ll choose our gift exchange recipients now.” Adrien ducks his head. He hates when people make concessions for him, but at least Ms. Bustier is thoughtful enough not to draw further attention.
She starts up the stairs, shaking the bowl again, beginning in the back row this year. “You decided by class consensus earlier this week that your gifts would be €20 or less and no bigger than a shoebox.” Nathaniel takes a slip first, his face unreadable as he folds the paper again and lays one hand atop it. Shake, shake. “We’ll have the exchange on December 21st, during our holiday party in the afternoon. You may bring your gift in the morning and I’ll keep them all in a safe place until it’s time for the exchange.” Rose chooses, followed by Juleka. Both seem pleased.
As more and more students choose a slip from the bowl, the room buzzes louder with whispers and murmuring among friends.
Ms. Bustier’s voice cuts through the chatter again. “This is a secret gift exchange, so remember, do not share your recipient’s name. No trading. We’re all friends here.” If she glances quickly at the back of Chloé’s head as she says this, no one says a word.
Marinette waits her turn quietly. In three class gift exchanges, she has never pulled Adrien’s name, nor has he chosen hers. So much for ladybug luck. All she really hopes for at this point is to not choose Lila. She doesn’t want to break Ms. Bustier’s rules, but if that happens, she’s totally trading with Alya.
The bowl shakes near her ear, and she reaches up to blindly choose a slip. Slowly, carefully, she opens the folded paper, and suddenly all she can hear is her pulse roaring in her ears. Because there, in Adrien’s familiar script, is the name she’d given up hoping to receive.
She looks up just in time to see Adrien’s ears pinken and his shoulders scrunch as he hastily refolds his own paper slip. Marinette wonders for just a moment who he’d chosen before her brain kicks into holiday overthinking mode.
She’d rethought many of the gifts for his next several dozen birthdays, repurposed them for other friends or dismantled them to their raw materials and created something new. But a portion of the chest in her room still holds gifts meant just for him. She could choose one of those, or she could make something new. She could create a gift or purchase an item somewhere. Perhaps she could knit a hat or gloves to match his birthday scarf. Oh, the possibilities are endless!
A nudge in her side shakes her from her swirling thoughts and returns her to the din of the steadily-emptying classroom.
“Ready for lunch, Mari?” Alya asks. Nino and Adrien are looking at her expectantly, too.
“Oh. Sure! Yes! Ready for anything. Soup?”
A beat of silence.
“You heard the girl!” Nino says, slapping one hand on the table and standing up. “Let’s go get some soup.”
Alya just pats her on the back and shakes her head as they pack up their bags.
********
Soup actually turns out to be a good idea today, even if Marinette has no idea why she said that. The four friends huddle around a table in the warmth of a nearby cafe, full and relaxed and reluctant to return to afternoon classes. Adrien startles suddenly when a calico cat jumps into his lap and meows loudly, demanding pets.
Nino backs away a bit, but Adrien simply melts.
“Hello there, pretty girl!” he coos. “Do you want scritches? I can do that.” The cat twists her head, showing him exactly where she wants to be scratched, and he happily complies. Marinette can hear the cat’s contented purr from across the table. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Yes, you do.”
Alya has her phone out and recording, but Adrien doesn’t even notice. This is the first time they’ve seen this cat at this particular restaurant, but she's definitely not the first resident feline to find them while they ate. Or shopped. Or hung out at the park. Adrien attracts cats like Chat Noir, and loves every moment of it.
“And here we see the Cat Whisperer in his natural habitat, among his harem,” Alya narrates the video as though it’s a nature documentary, and Adrien snorts with laughter before looking up, a sheepish half-smile lighting up his face.
“I just really like cats,” he says, and looks back down at the kitty. She abruptly headbutts his chin, making his teeth knock together with an audible clack. He stares at her for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing, rich and joyful, but loud enough to scare the cat from his lap. She trots over to the counter and stops to groom herself.
Adrien, still chuckling, brushes fur from his pants and shakes his head in fond amusement. “Cats.”
The proverbial lightbulb flashes on above Marinette’s head, the stirrings of an idea so crazy it just might work.
She has an executive assistant to email.
********
It’s shockingly easy to get permission for something so important.
“Do you think Nathalie even asked Mr. Agreste?” Marinette wonders aloud to Tikki above the whir of the sewing machine. “I can’t imagine she didn’t, but…” she trails off, shaking her head. Adrien’s household is a web of very strange relationships she has never quite understood.
Tikki hums and shrugs a tiny shoulder. “If Nathalie said yes, I guess the answer is yes.” She flies from her perch on Marinette’s shoulder to sit on top of the sewing machine; Marinette promptly releases the pedal and meets her kwami’s gaze.
“I’m glad she did, but the longer I think about it, the more I wonder if this is a terrible idea.”
“You still have a few days to decide,” Tikki reminds her.
Marinette nods before she catches a glimpse of the clock on her computer and jumps up in alarm.
“Gah! I’m late for patrol! Again!”
********
Chat Noir is waiting quietly at their appointed meeting spot, knees pulled up to his chest and tail dangling down the opposite side of the pitched roof. He unfurls like a night-blooming flower when he hears her land nearby, legs flopping to the roof, arm raised to wave at his partner, tail animated and alert. His bright smile makes Ladybug smile in return as she plops down next to him.
“Sorry I’m late, kitty. I lost track of time.”
“It’s okay, Bugaboo.” He bumps her shoulder with his own. “I knew you didn’t forget me.”
“As if I could!” she laughs, bumping him back.
He’s still smiling, but silence descends over the pair after a moment.
“You okay, Chaton?”
“Yeah, just thinking. Our class is doing a gift exchange for Christmas and I’m having trouble deciding what to get for my...my person.” He glances at his partner, but she only nods in response. “I got one of my friends this year. Not that they’re not all my friends, but...she’s special.”
“Special, huh?” Ladybug asks, a teasing lilt coloring her voice.
“It’s not like that,” Chat rebuts. He breathes a laugh, but his smile turns impossibly soft as he looks out over the lights of the city. “We’re friends, but she’s...I don’t know. There’s no one like her. She deserves a gift as beautiful as she is.”
Ladybug blinks once, twice, caught off guard by the tenderness in his voice. If she didn’t know any better, she might think the feeling in her chest was jealousy, but that can’t possibly be right.
His words catch up to him when he looks back at her again and frantically waves his hands between the two of them. “Oh! Not like that!” he repeats. “I mean, like, beautiful on the inside. Her heart.” He holds a clawed hand to his chest, and Ladybug quirks an eyebrow.
“Okay, she’s beautiful on the outside, too. But it’s...really, it’s not like that. She doesn’t like me that way, and I…” he trails off. “You know.”
Ladybug takes pity on him and tucks her hand in the crook of his elbow, patting his forearm indulgently as the inexplicable knot in her chest loosens a little. “Yeah, kitty. I know. Maybe I can help. What does she like?”
Patrol is forgotten for the evening as two superheroes take the time to simply be two friends chatting about Christmas above the city they protect.
Some of his ideas need to be reined in.
(“It’s just a skein of wool!” he gripes.
“One of the most expensive in the world, Chat! Don’t you have a spending limit?!”)
Others are nixed immediately.
(“You are not buying her an embroidery machine!”)
Finally, he decides on a pool of several items that might work - he's leaning toward tickets to a fashion show, and Ladybug is only a little bit envious of Chat's 'very special classmate' - and settles back on his hands, relieved.
“What about you, Bug? Your class does this every year, too, right?”
She nods in assent. “Yep. But I already know what I’m getting him.”
Maybe he hears it in her voice, or maybe he’s just returning her earlier tease in kind. “Ooooh, him? Did you draw Mr. Mystery Crush’s name this year?”
Ladybug doesn’t answer, but her blushing cheeks do.
“Well.” Chat clears his throat and starts over. “Well, what is this lucky guy getting for Christmas from Paris’s favorite bug?”
She turns to him with a grin. “A cat.”
It’s his turn to be left speechless with his own twinge of jealousy.
“Before you ask, I already got permission from his family. Sort of. Well, I...the bottom line is that I got permission. I’m going tomorrow to the SPA to choose one for him. I’ve already called and made sure that I can bring it back without a problem if he doesn’t like it, but I can’t imagine that happening. Chaton, I’ve never met anyone else whose love of cats rivals yours. It’ll be perfect.”
After a long moment of silence, Chat seems to come to a decision before he stands and bows gallantly to his partner. “It would be my honor to accompany you to the shelter tomorrow to choose a feline fur-ever friend for your friend. I am the chief cat-bassador of Paris, after all.”
Ladybug looks up at him and thinks of how he cradled Pirate in his arms the other night on the way to the refuge, the calm, gentle way he whispers to tired mother cats, his delight in being approached by the everyday cats of Paris out for their evening strolls before returning home for the night. It has less to do with his miraculous and more to do with his heart, she hears Tikki whisper from the back of her mind.
She takes his hand and lets him pull her up before wrapping her partner in a hug.
“It would be my honor, kitty.”
********
And that’s how Marinette finds herself at the SPA just before closing on a Saturday afternoon, suited up as Ladybug and accompanied by Chat Noir, to adopt a cat for her friend Adrien, who happens to be a teen supermodel.
She thinks distantly of how she once said she was an ordinary girl with an ordinary life and wonders what in the world she was thinking.
The staff at the shelter are friendly and positively bubbling over with excitement to have Ladybug and Chat Noir in the facility to adopt a cat instead of simply dropping off rescues. Chat is eating it up, and Ladybug can’t help but smile with pride. He’s ridiculous, but in a dozen lifetimes, she could never find a better partner.
They make their way to the cat room amidst the distant sound of barking dogs from the other side of the shelter. She knew to expect it, but the look of absolute delight that crosses Chat Noir's face as he walks in the room is like the first rays of sun after a week of rain - brilliant, bright, and beautiful.
A cacophony of cat vocalization fills the room as they walk the rows of cage enclosures, from tiny mews to hearty meows. Little paws extend through the bars when they approach, and Chat tickles their toe beans or brushes their soft fur with his own clawed fingers. It's all a bit of sensory and emotional overload, so Ladybug purposefully brings her mind back to the task at hand, turning toward a shelter employee.
"I'm thinking of a relatively young cat, but not a kitten. Calm and friendly."
The employee nods. "We have a few that I think would be perfect for you." She smiles warmly toward Chat Noir, who is currently holding a giant ginger tabby who'd been roaming free in the room. "He's rescued several of the cats housed in this room right now. We're so grateful for him." She leads Ladybug to a bank of cages to the left, swinging open the door of an enclosure at eye level. "I've been calling this fellow Sable, but your partner was a bit more creative with naming when he brought him to us."
The label on the cage reads: My name is Zibeline. I'm super happy to be here instead of on the street! I was brought to the SPA on 14 December. I am about 8 months old, fixed and up to date on my shots. I'm a little shy, but I love treats and cuddling and I'm good with kids. I get along well with other cats after proper introduction. Are you ready to take me to my forever home?
Ladybug's heart twists. She can't choose the very first cat she sees, can she?
"Oh, you found my Zibby Bear! Hi, buddy!"
Chat Noir resituates the ginger tabby cozied up in his arms and reaches out a hand over Ladybug's shoulder to scratch Zibeline under the chin. The cat extends his neck and purrs happily.
He turns to the staff member. "He looks amazing. I knew there was a gorgeous coat under all that matted fur."
"It's true. He's like a brand-new cat."
A few moments later, Ladybug finds herself sitting cross-legged on the floor, dangling a little mouse with a bell in it over the head of a deep brown Burmese mix, falling more and more in love every time the cat turns his big yellow eyes toward her. He's active and alert but still mellow and sweet. As soon as she tucks the little toy behind her back, he climbs into the space between her crossed legs and settles his front paws on her knee. She looks up at Chat Noir helplessly, and he and the employee both laugh.
"Well, that was easy," he says. "Is The Zibster the one?"
She nods, running her gloved fingers gently through the cat's thick sable fur. She can't wait to pet him with her bare hands when they get home.
The staff member leads them to the front desk while another volunteer prepares the impending adoptee for his freedom ride. As they walk, Ladybug notices a large posterboard full of photos on the wall just outside the cat room door. "Thank You, Chat Noir!" is spelled out in die-cut letters across the top. Some photos are of cats looking out from their enclosures, some include Chat Noir himself holding either cat or crate. She does a quick count by fives and is astonished at the number she comes up with.
"Chaton, you've rescued 32 cats?"
His cheeks heat up, but his smile is soft. "At this shelter, yes."
Ladybug swallows quickly around the lump in her throat, changing tack to cover her sudden surge of emotion. "And do you give all of them ridiculous names?"
"Hey, I'm an excellent cat namer, thank you very much."
"What does Zibe-whatever even mean?"
He laughs. "It means sable - it's a little animal like a mink. My mother had a long sable coat that I remember her wearing to big, fancy events when I was little. Zibby's fur reminded me of that when I found him. Er, well...I thought it would once he was cleaned up."
"Why not name him Sable?"
Chat spreads his hands out in a grand gesture. "Well, I'm a learned gentlecat who speaks four languages, Buginette. Also, I already named one Sable last year."
Ladybug just shakes her head and laughs. This dork is truly one of the best people she's ever known. Perhaps she's luckier than she thought.
********
Monday morning dawns bright and lovely, a cold, crisp Winter Solstice to mark their last day of school before the long holiday. Marinette wakes to a shaft of sunlight across her bed from the skylight above, illuminating the deep chestnut fur of her temporary companion purring against her side. She can't resist reaching down to pet him, rousing him from sleep. He lifts his head with a questioning "mrrr?" before he closes his eyes again.
"Do we have to give him to Adrien, Marinette? I want to keep him." Tikki looks up at her with huge blue eyes, and she almost, almost decides to just give Adrien the forest green beanie she knitted for his 28th birthday. But she doesn't have time for a pet, her parents are busy with the bakery, and, well...this is already Adrien's cat, even if he doesn't know it yet, and she can't take that away from him.
"Sorry, Tik," she says with a yawn, sitting up and scooping the cat into her arms to help him down the ladder to her room. "We'll just have to swing over and visit him at Adrien's sometime." Her cheeks flush at the thought.
She preps a small gift bag with the supplies she purchased with her €20 - a little bag of catnip-infused toys, a shaker container of treats, and a bell collar embroidered with brightly-colored fish. Adrien doesn't need to know that the shelter waived the usual €150 adoption fee, nor that the neon green litter pan and carrier were thrown in for free as well. She has a feeling those were a donation by a certain masked black cat, but no one mentioned it outright and she didn't ask.
She kisses the little cat on the nose with a reminder that she'll be back for him later, opens her purse for Tikki, and sets off for school.
********
The class is abuzz with excitement. They've slogged through a morning of last-minute assignments and a pop quiz that brought groans from the students until the teacher said they could use their notes. Lunch was spent trying to get each other to give up the secret of who their giftee was, but none of them would budge. Marinette had made a quick trip across the street to "pick up something she forgot" just before the lunch break ended.
Finally, finally, it's time to return to homeroom for their Christmas party. Nino's phone plays a curated playlist of holiday music that provides a cheery background the students' chatter. Ms. Bustier's desk and a little table set up next to it are filled with snacks and treats. Red and green macarons decorate a silver tray, and a bowl filled with berry punch sits next to it, little splashes marring the smooth surface of several adjacent cookies. Marinette snags those for her own plate and slides the tray a few inches away before going back to her seat.
When everyone's plates are left with only crumbs, the teacher finally gets their attention. Nino turns the music down but not off, and everyone scrambles to get their gifts for the exchange.
Marinette sends a quick text to her mom before setting her phone on the desk beside the little gift bag. Adrien, she notices, holds a simple envelope in his hand, tapping it nervously against the desk.
Gifts are given to squeals of delight, oohs and aahs and one "whoa, rad!" from Alix.
When Sabine Cheng peeks in just as Nino is digging into his gift bag, Marinette excuses herself for a moment before returning with a carefully-ventilated shoebox. Okay, it held a pair of her father's giant shoes, but Marinette still followed the gift-giving guidelines. Sort of. She settles back in her seat, the contents of the box making a loud scrabbling sound, followed by a plaintive meow.
Every eye in the classroom is suddenly on the second row.
"Why don't you give your gift next, Marinette?" Mrs. Bustier says, eyes focused on the now-wriggling box.
Marinette slides the box forward on the desk toward Adrien, who is already turned in his seat, eyes wide. His gaze flickers to hers, to the meowing box, and back to her.
"Joyeux Noël, Adrien."
Chloé huffs at the look of wonder on his face as he brings the box into his lap, but no one else makes a sound.
Slowly, reverently, he begins to lift the lid. After just a few centimeters, a tiny black nose nudges into the open space, followed by one little paw covered in deep brown fur, then a second, before the cat pushes the lid up and off and climbs Adrien's t-shirt like a tree. His hands wrap gently around the cat's body and hold him close to his shoulder. Oblivious to the class going crazy, Alya filming the moment in shocked glee, and Ms. Bustier remarking to no one in particular that she thought they'd been told not to give living creatures as gifts, Adrien simply buries his face in the cat's fur.
"I thought you'd like, crochet a blanket or something, Mari," comes from somewhere behind her. Across the aisle, she hears, "Or bring a cake or madeleines or, I don't know, not a cat!" And, predictably, "Giving a cat as a gift is utterly ridiculous." But none of that matters. The world narrows to Adrien's shaking shoulders and the beautiful chestnut cat sniffing at the hair above his ears, making no move to wriggle free of the hands that hold him firmly but gently in place. For several frantic moments, Marinette is gripped with the fear that she has made a horrible mistake here.
When he finally raises his head, Nino surreptitiously passes him a tissue and pats him on the back while he reluctantly hands the cat to a squealing Rose, the first of many in a long line of cuddles in the cat's immediate future.
Marinette couldn't have said whether she was breathing or not before Adrien's eyes meet hers, but she's distinctly aware of the moment her breath catches. Where she thought she'd see the same joy he'd displayed during his many feline encounters over the course of their friendship, she finds something different. Gratitude mixes with a tinge of sadness, but behind it is something profound that makes her feel exposed and comforted all at once.
He blinks, his brow furrows, and the moment is gone.
"Marinette, I...well, my father..."
"Oh!" she exclaims. "I got permission. I can show you Nathalie's email if you'd like." She reaches for her phone, but Adrien stops her with a hand over hers.
"You're amazing, Marinette," he says, voice painted with the same wonder that shines in his eyes.
Alya is making a sound like a whistling tea kettle behind her still-recording phone. It takes Nino asking, “So, mec, what are you going to name your new little dude?" to truly bring them all back to the moment. The three sets of eyes in Nino's immediate vicinity snap to him, but the rest of the class looks to Adrien for his answer.
He rubs his neck and glances at the floor before answering. "His name is, um...Zibeline."
"Ziba-what now?" Kim asks, and half the class laughs.
"It means sable," he says quietly. "His fur reminds me of a coat my mom had that she'd wear to fancy events when I was little."
Max pipes up, “Adrien is correct. The sable is a type of marten found in the forests of Central Asia." He looks down at his phone for more info. "In fact, its scientific name is Martes zibellina. Zibeline is a little-known term in both French and English used to describe the sable or an item with sable-like qualities."
"Well, it's a very fitting name, Adrien. I do hope you enjoy your new pet." Ms. Bustier gives Mylène a pointed look, gesturing toward Adrien with her head, and the cat is reluctantly returned to his new owner. "Next year, please, no live animals in the gift exchange."
Alya nudges a malfunctioning Marinette, who nods absently. "Got it, Miss," Alya answers for her.
Marinette hears none of this. Her heart pounds in her ears, drowning out the class, their teacher, Alya. She stares, transfixed, at Adrien's bare hands holding Zibeline, trying and failing to reconcile that those same hands, previously gloved in black, had scratched the cat's chin two days before at the shelter. It can't be true that the same doofus who makes incessant cat puns and throws himself toward danger with a smile, who finds and saves the most vulnerable cats and kittens in Paris and has loved her for literal years is sitting in front of her now, cradling the cat they adopted together and looking back at her with those big green eyes she's seen in her dreams since she was thirteen. Right? Right?
Except...he can. He is. She sees it with perfect clarity as soon as she allows herself to truly believe it.
Less about his miraculous and more about his heart, indeed.
She's brought back to the moment when a crisp white envelope slides across her desk.
"For you, Marinette."
(Oh, even his voice is the same. How did she never realize?)
Inside are two tickets to a fall preview fashion show in early January, just as she knew there would be, just as she and her partner had discussed at their chilly rooftop meeting point on Friday night.
"Thank you," she whispers, finally meeting his eyes and finding a guarded hope that makes her heart ache.
Well, that won't do, she thinks.
Ms. Bustier wraps up the gift exchange, thanking the students for their participation and wishing them a very happy holiday. The class moves around them, students getting more snacks and punch, Christmas music turned up again to party volume for the last few minutes of the day. Alya and Nino get up together to refill their drinks, leaving their two seatmates and one cat.
There's a beat of silence between them.
"Beautiful on the inside, huh?"
Adrien's eyes widen in relief and he hides a laugh in Zibeline's fur. "I'm pretty sure I said inside and out."
Marinette giggles helplessly as a giddy glee spreads through her. "You did. And then you picked out your own Christmas gift." She reaches out to pet the cat but Adrien goes one step further and presses Zibeline into her arms. The cat settles happily, propping his paws on her forearm before laying his head on top of them.
"I love him, Marinette. Thank you."
Her breath catches in her throat again. Ostensibly, he’s talking about the cat, but his eyes speak something slightly different, with a weight that compels her to respond in kind.
“You’re welcome. I...I love him, too.”
His answering smile is pure, radiant joy. It makes her heart beat a little out of rhythm, and she clutches Zibeline just a bit closer, grounding herself in the feel of his thick fur. For a moment, Marinette is stunned by the wave of emotion that rises in her chest, a sudden vision of limitless possibility that makes her feel as powerful and determined as she does wearing her spots.
As he slides from his seat to refill his plate with likely-forbidden snacks, Adrien gives her a cheeky wink and leans in close enough that she can smell his familiar cologne. “That embroidery machine is still on the table, by the way. Seems like a super gift for a girlfriend who’s beautiful inside and out, doesn’t it?”
Marinette sputters as he saunters away, her ears and cheeks burning.
“Well, well, well,” Alya drawls as she sets down her drink. “Three years and two dozen failed schemes, and it turned out all it took to make something happen between you two was a cat.” She pops an entire macaron in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. "You won Christmas, by the way."
"I thought the competition was between you and Nino?"
Alya shrugs and points at Zibeline. "No one can beat that." After a long swig of punch, she reaches over to scratch the cat behind the ears. “Girl, I hope you like cats, because in a few years, this one’s going to be yours, too.”
Marinette looks down at the cat in her arms, then back at her best friend, and all she can do is laugh.
“Don’t worry, Alya. I love them. I always have.”
#miraculous ladybug#fan fiction#marinette dupain-cheng#adrien agreste#I'm trash for reveals#happy birthday chibi!#my writing#of course there are cats involved
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Lia & Beast!Ben headcanons? 😳😳
This may intrude slightly into spoiler territory for Never Enough or Lia’s D3 AU (that’s coming soon, I promise) because a Beast!Ben happens in both those fics, but until then, here are some headcanons/thoughts. Below the cut, because with the images I added it gets a little long.
(And I’m sorry for how long this took, I had to pause in the middle of writing this to build a new desk.)
My Beast!Ben ideas are based off these concept arts rather than the Beast!Ben we got in the movie.
There’s a height difference between Beast!Ben and Lia! He kinda looms over her like Beast did over Belle when he was still cursed and transformed:
Beast is slouching down slightly in this one, but you get the point. He’s even taller when he’s standing up. Also I know that the concept arts I’ve been using for Beast!Ben don’t have horns but he definitely has horns, I imagine, and a tail, just like his dad.
You know that trope where Character A has just had a terrible monstrous transformation and is like “Get away from me! I don’t want you to see me like this!” and Character B is just endlessly reassuring, comforting, and still in love? That’s Beast!Ben and Lia.
Lia is not afraid of Beast!Ben, not even in the slightest. She does initially dislike his beast-form, but because she knows it hurts and scares him to be this way, not because she doesn’t like how he looks as a beast. To Lia, he’s not to be feared; his beast-form actually resembles a creature from her home planet that have been known to be protective and noble, so with that association alone she doesn’t think he’s something to fear. She knows it’s Ben, and so she wholeheartedly trusts him not to hurt her. She does a lot to comfort and calm him and assure that she still loves and trusts him in this state. When he’s calmed down, she finds him to be very cute and still just as lovable.
I like to imagine that this form comes with brute strength for Ben, so it’s fun to imagine him picking up Lia and carrying her with ease. She thinks it’s wonderful and fun when he does this.
Also I don’t know if this is canon or not but I think Beast!Ben should be able to purr. Maybe not purr like a cat but more like... a happy rumbling noise. My dog does something like that all the time, like a happy growl. Beast!Ben absolutely does that and he does it a lot when Lia is cuddling with him or holding his hand/paw. Sometimes she hugs him and wraps her wings around him and its really warm and nice and he loves it. He can get so loud with the happy growling that sometimes people worry he’s being aggressive to Lia but he’s not. He just loves her so much.
Due to his bigger size, Beast!Ben also gets tired a lot more easily than he did in human form. When he takes naps or sleeps, Lia will lay on him or cuddle up to his side. He likes it. It makes him feel loved, and he knows where she is and doesn’t have to be worried. Being a beast makes him a little more protective of her, and kinda possessive, but not in a bad way.
Beast!Ben has trouble speaking in the full beast form shown above; it has something to do with talking around a mouthful of fangs and the new arrangement of his chest and vocal chords, its just not suited to normal human speech without a lot of struggling. He manages it better in the half-beast form, but it’s still not perfect. He communicates more with nonverbal physical communication, though its a bit clumsy with bit ungainly paws and sharp claws. Somehow, Lia perfectly understands it. Affectionate headbutts are a thing, and Beast!Ben is careful about the horns.
Have I mentioned cuddling? Lia cuddles with Beast!Ben and shows him physical affection as much as she can. In Audrey’s Diary, it’s mentioned that Ben feared becoming as unlovable and lonely as his father had been as a beast; I imagine that Lia would know of this fear as well and do all that she could to promise Ben that he’s not unlovable even in this state. There’s a lot of cuddles. To Lia, he’s like a big warm soft puppy that wants a lot of love, and if Ben grows to be comfortable and happy with his beast form, then she’s perfectly happy with it too.
Thank you for the ask! I definitely enjoyed thinking about this and writing these thoughts and headcanons. If you have anything to ask, discuss, or otherwise, I’m open to discussion.
#ben descendants#look i know that the cgi would have failed us for those concept art pieces to actually nd up in the movie but i'm still bitter#at how badly they failed at giving us beast!ben just look at him#compare the movie to those concept arts. they look nothing alike
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glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part two
summary: the pogues get up to a few shenanigans, burn the shit out of some marshmallows, and have a group hug of epic proportions. the dynamic duo of kiara and sailor brings out girl power in full force before getting real about a certain golden group rule.
word count: 4.2k+
ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)
warnings: mentions of abuse/neglect/parental abandonment/anxiety, underage drinking, weed usage, more fluff, flirting, reference to absolute legend kobe bryant
a/n: hello again! thank you all for the great response to part one, i’m seriously blown away and so grateful for your support! <3 i’m happy y’all enjoyed reading about sailor’s adventures with the pogues! here’s part two, which had previously been combined with part one but i decided to split it because it was getting wayyyy too long (over 8k words, oops). also i’ve never even seen weed with my own two eyes before so my bad if that part’s not realistic, i did my best lol. unbetaed, so i apologize for any mistakes. enjoy!
gif credit goes to @toesure
~Masterlist~
part one | part three | part four | playlist
part two: treading water
The pogues spend the next few hours among the waves, surfing their hearts out until they’re waterlogged, exhausted, and hungry. As the sun starts to sink over the island they pile into John B’s beat up Volkswagen, all their boards tied together on the roof, and head to The Wreck, where Kiara’s dad begrudgingly feeds his daughter and her ‘delinquent’ friends.
That word seems pretty harsh at first but as the evening goes on and the group gets a little louder, it’s kind of well-deserved. Pope can’t seem to stop dropping his fork, sending the rest of them into hysterical laughter each time, and everyone knows when Taylor Swift comes on the radio, Sailor has an obligation to get up and dance. The fact that she knocks a chair over in her haste to show off her moves only makes them laugh harder. When they finally leave and head back to the Chateau for the night, she makes sure to put forty bucks on their table for the food and the twelve pack of beer Kiara swipes from behind the bar when Mr. Carrera isn’t looking.
While it may not look like much, John B’s house if home for more than just him. It’s a safe port for all the pogues when they get lost in the storm, a place where they can all be themselves, be real, without judgement, and it’s Sailor’s second favorite place on the island. She’s lost count of how many nights she’s spent here, sleeping in the spare room, on the pull-out couch, and the hammock in the yard (sleepovers have become even more common in the eight months since Big John’s disappearance at sea, no one willing to leave his son all alone in an empty house.).
The hammock is where she finds herself now on this warm June night, sitting beside JJ with his arm around her shoulders, clad in his sweatshirt that she unashamedly stole last year, passing a joint back and forth while the others lounge around the small bonfire, roasting the old marshmallows John B found in the very back of one of his kitchen’s cupboards and drinking beer. One of her long legs dangles over the edge, toes pushing against the cool grass as they lazily swing back and forth, watching Kiara burn her third marshmallow in a row.
“Kie, what did those poor things ever do to you?” Sailor asks, exhaling smoke through her nose before passing the joint to JJ, and the brush of his fingers against hers sends warmth through her whole body. Kiara just shoots her the bird in response as she stabs her fourth marshmallow and holds it over the fire. The redhead laughs and rests her head against JJ’s shoulder, her limbs light as air. In the distance, lightning arcs between the clouds and creates a dazzling show over the water as thunder rumbles but none of them care enough to notice.
Although she never outright asks to smoke, she also never refuses the chance to get high with her best friend and let their problems drift away with every hit, if only for a little while. Lines get a little blurry between them, too, as both become oh so affectionate with each other when their inhibitions disappear like the sun over the horizon. She sighs contentedly at the blissful feeling of his fingers running through her hair and burrows further into his side, turning so she can throw an arm over his waist and curl her own fingers into the soft material of his shirt.
“Damn it!” John B yells as his marshmallow, in the span of a few seconds, catches fire and unceremoniously falls into the flames with a hiss.
“Ha, I’m not the only one on the struggle bus!” Kiara laughs gleefully, delicately turning her fourth attempt to keep it from burning like the other three. “We can’t all be Pope, I guess.”
The other boy looks up at the mention of his name and grins, holding out a perfectly toasted marshmallow on the end of the stick in his hand. “It takes talent, Kie.” He jokes, chuckling as she sticks her tongue out at him.
Sailor can’t help laughing, too when the two of them dive headfirst into a heated discussion about the finer points of roasting things over a campfire, their voices becoming louder and louder as they try to talk over one another while John B, unfazed from his spot between them, just holds another marshmallow over the fire and ignores them completely as he takes a sip of his beer.
“Aaaand JB’s totally checked out of that particular conversation,” She says to JJ under her breath and she feels more than hears him laugh in response.
“Poor bastard,” He whispers back before taking one last hit of the joint, now burnt down to a nub in his hand, and flicking it into the fire with a shout of “Kobe!”
“Nice one, hotshot.” She shifts her head up on his shoulder as her eyes unabashedly trace his profile in the warm orange glow of the fire, from the golden hair falling haphazardly onto his forehead and down the straight slope of his nose to the curve of his lips before she’s caught -not that she was being subtle in any possible way-, his ocean blue gaze holding hers with an electrified energy that would’ve normally set her whole face aflame. She’s not Normal Sailor now though, she’s High Sailor and High Sailor has positively zero shame so she just looks up at him with a saccharine smile on her face and blesses the fact that weed makes her bold as hell.
The flickering flames throw JJ’s features into sharp relief and highlight the dimples that she loves as he returns her smile, the hand in her hair now twirling a single curl around his finger. His free hand settles on the strip of bare skin at her waist where her sweatshirt has ridden up and her heart beats a little faster when he starts drawing agonizingly slow circles with his thumb. Her hand releases its grip on his shirt and before she even realizes it, she’s reaching up and brushing a finger along her jaw, just like he’d done to her that afternoon on the beach, and she feels the fingers at her waist press against her skin.
It’s moments like these that make her wish she could freeze time and live in them forever. Just the two of them, looking at each other like they’re more than just friends, touching each other like they’re falling into something beautiful and all they need to do is stick the landing. The possibility of taking that final leap teases her. He’s so close, it wouldn’t take much to just reach up and make that minuscule distance between them disappear and from the way his eyes flick down to her mouth and back, she’s sure he’s thinking the same. They won’t though and for now that’s okay, but deep down she wonders just how long they can balance on the cliff’s edge before they both fall.
As much as she’d like to stare at his stupidly handsome face all night, the weather has other plans as lightning flashes white across the sky, immediately followed by a big crack of thunder that makes Sailor jump and accidentally headbutt JJ right in the forehead. The stick in Pope’s hand goes flying somewhere into the bushes when he startles, too, and there’s a pause as everyone looks at each other before bursting into wild laughter.
“Jesus, Sail,” JJ says, reaching up to rub at the spot she hit, “you have a hard head.”
Her reply of “speak for yourself!” is drowned out by another clap of thunder and seconds later it starts pouring rain, sending the group scrambling to head back inside the Chateau before they get too drenched. The duo, in their haste, get tangled together in the hammock and nearly fall to the ground in a heap but manage to hold each other up with their hands clasped tight, both laughing so hard she’s sure the water on their faces is more than just rain.
“The beer! Don’t forget the beer!” Someone yells and John B, halfway to the porch in front of them, does a smooth 180 on the wet grass and runs back for the booze sitting beside the dying fire, sending them a lazy salute when he passes by.
“We honor your sacrifice, Captain!” JJ calls over his shoulder before they clamber onto the porch alongside a giggling Kiara.
“Oh my God, you two almost bit it so hard.” She says while wringing out her shirt, adding to the steadily growing puddle of water at their feet.
“But we didn’t, all thanks to me and my impeccable balance.” He says proudly, grinning down at the girl still snug against his side before she lets go of his hand to slug him in the shoulder.
“Ow, what was that for?”
“Oh please, J, I was the one who kept you from falling on your face. Now, hold still.” Sailor orders and places her hand on his arm, using him for balance as she brushes the grass from her feet.
“Yes, ma’am.” His reply is low in her ear, his hand settles even lower on her back, and she pretends the shiver her body makes is just from the cool rain.
“You like being bossed around, Maybank?”
Her hand grips his strong shoulder a little bit tighter, and she feels his fingers tighten on her sweatshirt as he replies, “Depends on who’s doing the bossing, Flynn.”
Kiara coughs pointedly, staring at them with her eyebrows raised and Sailor feels her face begin to flush bright red because, to be honest, she’d kind of forgotten she was even there as they both let go of each other. The other girl snickers and drawls, “If you two are quite done-”
Thankfully, a thoroughly soaked John B joins them and interrupts whatever Kiara was going to say, his hair plastered to his face and dripping onto the soggy carton of beer protectively cradled in his arms.
“Mission accomplished.” He says with a satisfied smile, setting the drinks down on a chair before shaking his head like a dog and splattering rainwater on everyone, including Pope as he emerges from the house carrying a pile of towels. A few drops land on his cheek and he wrinkles his nose in disgust, wiping them away with his own towel hanging around his neck.
“I was just kidding about the beer.” He says, throwing one and smacking John B right in the face, then kindly passing out the rest. Sailor barely grabs the last one before Pope’s suddenly put in a headlock by the brunet boy, yelling something about mutiny and a captain “not standing for this” as they start to grapple back and forth. JJ pauses in the middle of drying his hair and instantly jumps into the fray after tossing his towel to the floor, the scuffle quickly turning into a three way wrestling match.
She and Kiara both glance at each other and roll their eyes before scooting by the melee and heading into the house, leaving the boys to do their thing. They quickly dry off and change into pajamas, hang their wet clothes up to dry in the bathroom, and then tiredly flop onto the bed in the spare room together.
“How long do you think it’ll take until Wrestlemania out there’s done?” Sailor asks, rolling onto her stomach and reaching to pull her phone and glasses out of her bag on the floor; under her newly acquired hat, the lightning whelk peeks through its towel and the sight of it makes her smile softly. Kiara snorts and sits up, crossing her legs and running her fingers through her damp hair. “Knowing those fools, too long.”
The redhead laughs and mirrors the other girl’s position before slipping her glasses on and glancing down at her phone in trepidation, where no new texts block the lock screen picture of her and the rest of the pogues, and she does her best to ignore the hurt coiling in her chest, the smile fading from her face. She places the phone screen down on the bedside table and when she raises her head, she’s not surprised to find Kiara, ever so perceptive, staring at her with sympathy in her soft brown eyes.
“You okay?” She asks and Sailor takes off her glasses, then pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around them.
“Could be better.”
Lightning illuminates the room, followed by an impressive crack of thunder a few seconds later as rain continues to pound against the window and down the hall, they hear the door slam closed as the boys finally storm inside after their scuffle, still yelling like banshees. The other girl reaches over and quickly squeezes her wrist before shooting her a bright smile.
“If you ever need to vent, I’m all ears.”
She knows she means it. Aside from JJ, Kiara’s her closest friend and from the moment they met, the two had quickly bonded over being the only girls in the group and their love of the environment: she’s lost count of how many times they’ve volunteered, both themselves and the rest of the pogues, to help raise money for animals. Despite Kiara’s kook year, Sailor considers her a sister and knows that Kie feels the same about her. Having each other’s backs no matter what is just what they do.
The redhead looks away from watching the storm outside and matches Kiara’s smile, then scoots closer to wrap her arms around her in a grateful hug.
“Thanks, Kie.”
The dark haired girl eagerly returns the embrace. “Any-”
“Comin’ through, gotta get me some of this group hug action!” JJ yells, storming into the room like a hurricane and throwing his arms around them, all but tackling them onto the bed before they even realize what’s happening.
“No, no, you’re still wet!” Sailor cries as his head rests against the back of her neck, his damp hair slowly beginning to soak into her shirt while Kiara growls, “Oh my God, get off!”
“And miss out on this? No way.” He says cheekily and pulls them both closer, ignoring the dark haired girl’s venomous glare and attempts to pry his hand away from her arm. Sailor, resigned to her fate, just laughs and calls over his arm to John B and Pope as they curiously poke their heads in from the hall, “Get your asses in here!”
She doesn’t have to tell them twice. They throw themselves into the hug faster than she can blink and with such contagious enthusiasm that Kiara can’t fight the affectionate grin making its way onto her face, even as she threatens, “I’m gonna kill all of you.”
Sailor rests her cheek on JJ’s outstretched arm and smiles to herself. This, right here and now, is where she belongs, surrounded by the best friends she could ask for, living each moment to its fullest. No matter what comes their way, she knows this is true: as long as they all stand together, the pogues will be just fine.
Some time later, the hug comes to an end as JJ jokingly complains about Sailor’s big head making his arm numb, which earns him a swift elbow to the stomach from the redhead.
“Weak.” She replies, smirking at the little oof he makes before grabbing his arm and pulling them both up from the bed. “Now get out.”
“Please.” Kiara agrees and pushes John B out the door, followed by Pope. “This room is girls only.”
“Since when?” The latter asks, sidestepping to avoid JJ as he’s playfully shoved into the hall by Sailor, who replies, “Right now.”
“Why?”
“’Cause we said so!” Both girls say in unison before they slam the door shut and then lean their backs against it, giggling. On the other side, they hear Pope ask in a very amused voice, “I thought this was your house?”
John B sighs the deepest sigh they’ve ever heard before replying, “Yeah, I did, too.”
“Ten bucks they’re gonna talk shit about us.” JJ says and there’s a not so subtle bump against the door that gives away the fact that he’s got his ear pressed to it, trying to listen in on them; a fact that gets proven when Sailor smacks her hand on it and makes him stumble back with a yelp of surprise.
“Dream on!”
“You wish!”
She and Kiara call at the same time, then glance at each other and burst into another fit of giggles.
“Tough break, dude. You’ll feel better in the morning.” That was John B’s tactless way of saying he’s tired without actually saying it and seconds later they hear his footsteps disappear down the hall to his room as he makes his escape, followed faintly by the sound of his door swinging shut.
“You don’t talk about us at all, Sail? Seriously?” JJ asks and Sailor can almost feel the sheer force of Pope’s inevitable eye roll when he mumbles under his breath, “Oh my God.”
Kiara’s on the same wavelength as him because she rolls her eyes, too and all but yells, “If we say yes will you fucking leave?”
There’s a pause and then: a slightly miffed “...yes.” along with Pope trying and failing to disguise his laugh as a cough.
“Then yes, we do talk about you. Now go.”
“Okay, okay! Jeez.”
“Goodnight, boys!” Sailor calls in a singsong voice before hearing them retreat to the living room, arguing about who gets the sleeper sofa and who gets stuck with the regular couch. When she’s sure they’re gone she shakes her head fondly (she doesn’t see why they can’t just get over themselves and share the damn thing) and turns back to Kiara, who’s already in the middle of pulling the damp comforter from the bed, her face the picture of disgust.
“Ugh,” She shudders, tossing it to the floor and then wiping her hands on a discarded towel from earlier. “Don’t touch that.”
“No shit.”
The dark haired girl jokingly flips Sailor the bird and then joins her in lounging on the bed, watching the fan spin in circles above their heads while the storm outside continues to rage on. The silence is comforting, soothing, and goes on for so long that the redhead’s nearly sent off to dreamland by the sound of the rain before Kiara finally speaks, “Hey, Sail?”
She hums in response, slowly turning her head to face her and blinking the sleep out of her eyes.
“Can I ask you something?”
“You just did.” She replies with an impish grin, but it slips from her face when the other girl shoots her a flat, unamused glance.
“Ha ha. I’m being serious, okay?”
Well that wasn’t worrying at all. “Is something wrong?” Sailor asks, rolling onto her side to face her friend completely and propping her head on her arm, all traces of lethargy thrown out the window. Kiara does the same with an unreadable look in her eyes as she answers, “No, I’m just a little...okay, a lot curious about something, and I want you to be honest with me.”
“I mean, I kind of have to. You know I suck at lying.”
She frowns when Kiara doesn’t even react to her comment and instead starts to worry her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s kind of a personal question, though.”
Oh, Jesus. She’s gonna ask about her dad, Sailor knows it, and that’s something she’s just not ready to talk about -she hasn’t even told JJ the whole story yet and she tells him (almost) everything- but before she can think of a semi-decent excuse, or run to the bathroom, or pretend to just pass the fuck out, Kiara blurts, “What’s the deal between you and JJ?”
Okay, that’s decidedly not what she expected to hear and it completely throws her for a loop, her brain blowing a fuse in epic fashion. A long stream of gibberish comes from her mouth as she tries and fails to articulate a response because holy hell she’s so not prepared for this; she’s a listener, not a talker! She’s the confidante not the confider, the asker not the answerer, and she can feel herself getting a little sweaty at just the thought of talking about her feelings, even with someone as close to her as Kiara. She almost wishes the other girl had asked about her dad.
To be honest she should’ve seen this coming, considering the looks Kiara’s been sending her recently and especially today, the ones that clearly meant that the dark haired girl’s seen what’s been happening and wants. that. tea. What Sailor doesn’t get though, is why she’s being so serious about it: she expects at least an overexaggerated wink or a teasing comment or two from her friend but she’s just waiting patiently, the slightest hint of mirth in her eyes.
Finally, the redhead manages to collect her panicked thoughts enough to squeak oh so eloquently, “Me-him-nothing!”
Kiara arches one eyebrow. “Sail, you really do suck at lying.”
Sailor flops back onto the bed and slides her hands down her furiously blushing face with a groan. “I’m not lying.” She mutters insistently but even she can admit it sounds weak as hell.
“It’s obvious there’s something-”
Something in her snaps and before she can stop them, words just start coming out with the force of a wave crashing against the shore, rough and callous. “It’s obvious there’s nothing going on, okay? Nothing. And even if there was -not that I’m saying there is- it can’t happen. That’s the golden rule, Kie.”
Kiara looks momentarily taken aback at the redhead’s outburst and then rolls onto her back, staring at the ceiling for a moment before she whispers quietly, like a secret she’s reluctant to share, “Maybe I think that rule is stupid.”
“Stupid?” Sailor glances over incredulously, the brief flash of anger aimed at her friend slowly morphing into confusion. “You’re the one who came up with it in the first place!”
“I know...” The dark haired girl sighs, tiredly running her hands through her hair, “I wanted to keep things from getting weird! It’s worked pretty well so far but I’m kind of, sort of, maybe starting to think it might not have been the best idea.”
“Why?” She asks, brow furrowing.
Kiara appears deep in thought as she keeps staring at the ceiling, working her jaw until she seems to come to a decision and turns her head to look Sailor in the eye. “Because I don’t think something as simple as a rule should be able to dictate who you can or can’t...love.”
Oh, God. Anxiety starts to take hold in her chest and she tries to keep her brain from going into five-alarm fire mode, her fingers tapping nervously against her leg. Why oh why did she have to say the L-word? Who said anything about that? Hell, it’s been a few months and she’s still getting used to her world-changing, panic-inducing, everything-clicking-into-place epiphany that made her realize that she does, in fact, like JJ as more than a friend (how and when her feelings changed, she hasn’t quite figured that out yet.). She’s not even close to thinking about love. Noticing her friend’s distress, Kiara reaches over to place her darker hand on the paler girl’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m not saying you love him, okay? But there’s obviously something good going on between you guys and I’m not cool with some dumb rule we made when we were twelve getting in the way of your happiness,” Her mouth curls into a lighthearted smirk, “even if it happens to be with someone as, uh, distinct as JJ.”
Despite herself, Sailor snorts a laugh and the tight feeling in her chest slowly starts to become a little more bearable as its replaced by a swell of gratitude that she has a person as wonderful as Kiara for a friend. She really did luck out in that department, she thinks, and the corner of her mouth lifts in a small smile.
“Distinct?”
“Hey, I was gonna say idiotic but I’m trying to be nice here.” The dark haired girl says, laughing as Sailor affectionately rolls her eyes before continuing, “But you do know that if he messes this up I’ll kick his ass, right?”
“Trust me, I do.”
“Good.” She punctuates that with a massive yawn, then rolls away from her and pulls the sheets higher over her chest, mumbling, “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m ready for bed. All this deep talk made me tired.”
“Big mood,” Sailor replies, reaching over and flicking off the bedside lamp, the only light now coming from the occasional flash of lightning through the windows as she rolls comfortably onto her side, tucking her arm under the pillow. Silence settles over them, dark and calm and stretching for who knows how long before she says quietly, “Thanks, Kie.”
There’s no answer. Realizing she must’ve already nodded off, the redhead’s just about to crash herself when her friend’s reply softly cuts through the silence like a knife.
“You’re not the only one I did it for.”
Kiara doesn’t say anything after that and Sailor falls asleep wondering what, or rather who, exactly the other girl meant.
~
let me know what you think!
taglist ❤ (i added everyone who’s comments and reblogs made me smile so let me know if you don’t want to be tagged!) : @jiaraendgame @obxlife @sunflowerbecca @maysbanks @obx-adventures @mortifiedposts @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @heavensalreadyheres
#outer banks#jj maybank#obx netflix#outer banks netflix#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x oc#jj maybank fic#obx fic#outer banks fic#jj x oc#jj x reader#my fics#obx#outer banks fanfiction#jj maybank imagine
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c!tommy hcs bc im too afraid to add to that big thread going around:
trans he/him lesbian. uses both masc and femme nouns, but is only comfy with femme nouns from close friends
embroiders a lot, helps him keep calm and focused on rough days
has frequent chronic migraines
uses a cane and occasionally a walker when his leg acts up (some form of sciatica accompanied with other chronic pains)
him and ranboo have matching canes :]] they painted them together, ranboo painted tommys with alliums and tommy painted ranboos with red tulips. yes this is backwards, yes thats on purpose. they did it to be reminders of each other (quite literally their little way of "supporting" the other lmao)
tommy is one of the few people tubbo feels comfortable to headbutt. he'll do it with ranboo, but even with him he's always worried he'll hurt him. with tommy, its almost a challenge to see how hard he can bump into him before bruising a rib lmao. tommy always complains but they both know its one of the most affectionate little things they share
tommys hair is kinda long, about shoulder length in places though its pretty uneven. ranboo likes to braid it, he'll often absentmidedly do it when he rubs tommys head and neck when hes got a bad headache
tommy is surprisingly good at fighting. hes very scrappy and hard to keep up with and what he lacks in physical strength, he makes up for in Confusion (and irritation)
so many fuckin pockets jesus christ. hes got a big skirt made of god knows how many fabrics and every pocket ends up filled by the end of any given day. hes got lots of little jars of various collections, some long term that hes been collecting for years, and others filled with things he thought were cool one day and then didn't really find interesting the next
his favorite collection is one of buttons and hes got a good couple hundred by this point. no one knows where he finds them or how he never runs out of ones to sew with
him and tubbo have an old written code language that they still use to this day. it used to be to piss off (impress) wilbur, but nowadays its used to confuse the shit out of ranboo
tommy absolutely adores michael but the two have made a game out of playing it up like they hate each other. in private, tommy is literally the best possible uncle, he absolutely dotes on michael. but around ranboo/tubbo/anyone else?? the two act up dramatic hatred for one another, constantly creating drama at any and all family dinners (perhaps this is why they don't do those much anymore)
tommy made the sweater he wears almost everywhere. it is falling apart both from use and poor construction
tommy adopts so many random animals. by adopt, I mean more of just ends up with them In His House and they wander off eventually??? like there was a family of racoons living in his wall for a few months, two very competitive toads that staked claim to either half of his yard, an owl that decided the carrot farm was the perfect roost, etc
he does actually take care of chickens however! some of them he raised, others he just ended up with one way or another, a few are even from the original flock that lived in lmanburg all those years ago. he has a little coop alongside his house and they roam within the fenced area
completely human(?) although he was grown in a lab. wilbur raised him and had he not seen what tommy was..... like as a toddler, he'd have no doubt the kid was fully human. however, he was witness to.. whatever That was so yeah wil isn't sure what tommy is
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