#they could be a lovely shelter but that doesn’t sit right with me personally

[1lostsoul0fishbowl]

In lostys universe, Gare and El are long distance during some of their college years.

Do they ever have any big fights or miscommunication during that period?? Any conversations about what their future together will look like as the years peel away to adulthood? Just curious 🥰♥️

Still loving that greatmage lore 💜🩷

Ohh girl this made me think A LOT. because my first instinct was to be like “noooo my pookies never fight!” but that’s completely unrealistic. So I dug deep and came up with a few ideas… and of course it got really long so I’m putting it under a readmore…

- I think their biggest fights would be about money, but not in the typical way a young couple fights about money! In both Next Time I Fall and Lost and Found I alluded to El and Kali getting large settlements of “hush money” from Hawkins Lab, and at the end of Next Time El even suggests to Gareth that they use some of that money to get married. But it’s the late 80s and I’m sure Hopper had repeatedly impressed upon Gareth the importance of The Man Being The Breadwinner and the need to Properly Take Care Of His Daughter, so Gareth wouldn’t feel right about letting El pay for anything.

Finally El sits both Hopper and Gareth down one day and tells them look, Chrissy helped me find this super cute house and I can easily afford it so I’m gonna buy it. Gareth, you’re welcome to live there with me if you can get over your pride about it. And Dad, you need to mind your own beeswax. (Will taught her that phrase, and he almost chokes trying to hold back his laughter when he hears her repeat it.)

- Another thing I can imagine is the long-distance thing just wearing on both of them (they’re cuddly koalas and they can’t stand being apart for too long) but I could see that manifesting in different ways. For El, I think insecurity would be something she’d struggle with; especially if school interfered with time they wanted to spend together, she would feel neglected and get a little pouty about Gare thinking his work was more important than her. And I can imagine if he got impatient or exasperated about that, her mind would immediately leap to “you don’t love me anymore?” She needs a lot of reassurance after everything she’s been through.

But this, I think, would probably lead to Gareth never wanting to speak up about his own needs or problems, because he does truly want to be that steadfast source of reassurance for her, but also sometimes he feels a little resentful, as if she doesn’t trust him enough to keep loving her even when he’s irritated. And then that makes him wonder if she feels that way because of everything with Mike, and he gets pouty thinking she’s comparing him to Mike. Oh, kiddos.

- I imagined all of this coming to a head one weekend when Gareth wasn’t planning to come home because he was exhausted and had a ton of work to do, but El getting upset with him and kinda giving him a guilt trip about it until finally he gives in and says okay fine I’m coming. But he’s so tired that he ends up falling asleep behind the wheel and getting into a minor accident, which naturally freaks El out, and I think that would lead to a very deep heart-to-heart talk where they both end up resolving to communicate more honestly about their needs, and trust that their relationship can withstand temporary separation when needed.

- On a much happier note, conversations about the future!

I know a lot of people headcanon El as wanting tons of kids, but for some reason I imagine that pregnancy would be total body-horror for her. (Maybe I’m drawing that from my personal life? Lmao) I do believe she’d want a family of her own though, and I think she and Gare would have a lot of conversations about fostering and/or adoption to help troubled kids. And there’s a lovely fic that was gifted to me about the two of them preparing to welcome their first foster child.

I think they’d want pets, too— I imagine them going to an animal shelter just to look around, and El overhearing an employee saying “nobody will ever adopt this one, these dogs are monsters.” She instantly demands to see the monster dog, and of course it’s not a monster at all, it’s the cutest tiny little pit bull puppy, and El and Gare instantly fall in love with her and name her Bosco since she’s chocolate brown. 😊

I think El would have a lot of trouble deciding what she wanted to do after high school, as far as more schooling or a career or what, and they’d have a lot of discussions about that.

And of course they’d talk about traveling— there’s so many places they both want to see, and experiences they want to have for the first time together. Also I think it would be super cute if they went to Wales with Granny and Granddad Emerson to visit relatives and friends there. 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁷󠁬󠁳󠁿

This got way longer than I thought it would lmao but thank you so much for asking! I always love sharing my ideas and headcanons with you! 💕

[l3irdl3rain]

Since you’re looking for crusty cats and I know in the least creepy way I can say it that you also live in WI somewhere lol. I saw this absolutely treasure of a cat and wasn’t sure if you had also come across her at some point. Listed as 3-8 years old but she’s so scrungly looking I love her. At Feline Canine Friends in Westfield.

Oh my god is she darling 🥺 she’s a little young for me but god is she cute

[shocymer]

Ref:rain

"He was young and reckless, but loving you is another exception. After all this time refrained his feelings that spilled over in the midst of rain, he only wished for you to return his favor."

Pairing : Seonghwa x f! reader

Word counts : 3,02k

Contents & warnings : smut mdni! , hurt/comfort, slowburns, bestfriend to lovers, TW! mention of abused, soft dom! seonghwa, gentle sex, oral (receiving), multiple orgasm, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, after care.

He is the nostalgic night, the comfort of your frantic mind, the steady shelter under the pouring rain, the warmth in the middle of snow storm, and the salvation of your helpless soul.

You know it’s too much to describe him that way, but reality never proves you wrong. Living in the countryside on secluded area with your parents’ unstable marriage is definitely driving you insane. But, there’s always something that brings the joy whenever you feels his presence. It’s him Park Seonghwa.

Best friend? No. Just friends? Both of you are knowing each other for almost the rest of your life the second you’ve started walking on the ground. Childhood sweetheart? Yeah, maybe that’s the right thing to called your friendship status with him.

Growing up with him made you realize that the dynamic between you two is a bit weird, it’s like 'close but not that close' relationship. He know what’s happen in your life and so did you, but you’re not shared everything to each other. Just like when he’ll come to comfort you that bawling your eyes out in the middle of the night on the hill back of your house. He just sitting next to you, patting your back gently until your crying subsided. Didn’t ask a single word until you wanted to tell him everything what you’ve been through.

Or he will treat your wounds in silence, only giving you one or two questions at the most just to divert his anger.

“Again?” Furrowed his eyebrows while he dabbed your wounds with the cotton soaked in antiseptic.

You only nodded as you wincing in pain everytime it touches your grazed skin. He really hate to see you like that, his jaw tighten the entire time he treated you. Well, there’s nothing you can do, you’re still a minor and still live under those parents of yours, unless avoiding your abusive father is the only option you’ll take.

He tucked a few strands of hair that fall over your face behind your ears, “It’s done. I’ll help to treat it again tomorrow, just come to me okay?” His face looked somber when you met his eyes. You sure he felt frustrated too because this doesn’t happen once or twice.

“Yeah.. Thanks Hwa.” You gave him a reassuring smile, as if to say everything was fine.

But it’s all different at school, you almost never talk to each other. Being in different class and different circles of friends, make it less likely for you to cross paths with him. Well, he's quite famous. How could he not be, he's tall, handsome, dance genius, and also quite smart academically. On top of that his personality makes him liked by a lot of his friends including you.

Sometimes he stole glances at your class, looking for your figure who is immersed in reading your favorite literature book. Only to make sure you’re fine after seeing your smiley face surrounded by your friends. He felt relieve, there’s nothing to worry about.

⁠✧

“Oh.. hi Mrs. Park, is Seonghwa home? ” A little surprised, didn't expect it to be his mother who opened the door after you were knocking for a few times.

“Yes, come in sweetie,” she invited you in, giving you a warm smile that reminds you how it’s exactly like Seonghwa’s. You stepped slowly, feeling awkward due to sudden meet with her. It’s been a long time since you visited his house, you believed it’s when you’re still in the middle school. Then both of you only met outside all the time.

After exchanged small talk, she pointed towards the stairs. “By the way, just go to his room, he’s been there since morning. I’ll make some snacks for you.” She winked then proceed to leave you to the kitchen. You only shook your head after looking at what was his mother did. But at least you feel happy that you’re so warmly accepted here unlike in your own home.

You climbed the stairs carefully before knocking on his door. “Seonghwa.. I’ts me.” Tapping your foot as you waiting for him, but no answer heard from inside. You decided to open his door only to find him sleeping peacefully with a headphone still intact to his ears. Some books were open, scattered around him. He must be tired studying all the day.

You crouched down, bringing your head closer to the same level of his headphone, wanting to hear what song that was playing. Ah, it’s the same song you listened together a few years ago. As soon as you grasp it, you hummed the melody, bopping your head a little to the left and right.

Until you turned towards him, he’d been watching you for who knows how long it is. He shifted his headphone slightly, blinking for a few times still half asleep. His fingertips slowly caress the plastered wound on your cheeks, looking at it closely with a hurt stare.

“Seonghwa?” Your voice brought him to his sense. He immediately sat on the bed, patting to his side, gestured you to sit next to him.

“I’m sorry, I overslept.” He said, while his hand is busy reaching for something inside the drawer.

Your eyes fell back to the pile of his books. “It’s okay hwa.”

Suddenly he removed your band-aid gently, then applying a thin layer of the ointment on top of your wound. His face is so close to you, make you staring to his long lashes every time he blinked. The way he showed his earnest expression was fascinated you, to the point you didn’t hear what was he said.

“Are you there?” He’s still focused treating your wound with patience.

You shook your head slightly, “Uhm sorry, can you repeat it again?”

“Well, since the graduation is near, I decided to go to college.”

Your heart dropped after hearing that. It means he’ll moved out to the city and you won’t see him for a while, leaving you alone in this small town. But of course, you’re happy for him. He got so much potential to waste if he stayed here for too long.

“You’re going too, right?” His gaze shifted into your eyes, as if expecting a reaction from you.

“I- I still think about that. I’m not sure, what I’m gonna do.” On the contrary, you know exactly what you will do. Your parents have already planned for your future, forcing you to continue their own business. You really hate being stuck with them even though you’re just turning into adult a few weeks ago.

“All.. done. I hope it won’t leave a scar.”

His words snap you back. Lowered your head, you felt ashamed that he always be by your side whenever you’re in difficult times. “Once again, thank you hwa. I wish I can return your favor.”

He smiled, tucked your loose hair behind your ears. “You don’t need too.” But then he paused for a second like there’s something clicking on his mind.

“Well actually, I’ll ask about that one day. So,” he touched your chin, “be prepared for that.”

You chuckled before slap his hand playfully, “Sure, I’ll get ready from now on.”

Both of you spent the rest of weeks together before he left. Starting from the graduation day, then talking about this and that in his room all night, and hanging out at the usual favorite places just like today. He really enjoyed your accompany, the way you dressed prettily, walking at the downtown side by side and seeing you smile at him sweetly. He’s struggling to keep the urge not to hold your empty hands that swing back and forth on your every steps. Hoping the time will pass slowly, so he won’t leave you too soon.

He decided to stop by the cafe, after spending a day looking for the things he needed with you. Sitting opposite each other at the same table, made him keep looking at your presence. He didn’t realize since when his feelings grew this big for you.

As soon as the order served, he noticed that you stirred the drink long enough, battling with your own self whether you should tell him about this matter or not.

He stopped your hand from doing it, “say, there’s something on your mind?”

His worried look breaking your defense, you took a deep breath before you tell him the truth. “I will get married”

If previously he wished for the time would pass slowly, but for now the time is completely stopped. Loud silence burst into his ear while his mind is going blank. “What?” Is the only word that left from his mouth.

“I eventually will get married, my parents told me to.” You clarified.

Right it’s always her parents, are they finally going crazy or something? She’s still young and what the fuck she’d accepted their ridiculous request gladly. He kept all of his thought, afraid of hurting you even more if he said it out loud. He clicked his tongue trying to suppress his anger. “Then, what was your exact motivation to agree with them just like that?”

“So I can get out of my house.” You took a quick glance at him, “and maybe I’ll love him as the time goes by.”

His eyes pierced through into yours that remaining unfazed. “Okay then good for you.” he’s leaning to the chair as if nothing happen, after he catch your slightly disappointment look towards his remark. He thought, there’s no point to carry on the conversation if it was your own will too.

Both of you were silent like there’s no suitable words needed to say. On the other hand, Seonghwa is still contemplating, blaming himself why he only could repair the damage but unable prevent it to happen. He’s totally mad, to the point taking his shopping bags roughly in one swoop.

“Let’s wrap it out for today, I’m tired.”

⁠✧

On the day of his departure, you thought he’ll give you a warm hug or few words as farewell. Unfortunately, what you’ve imagined never happen. He only gave you a faint smile while sitting in his car, before rolled up the door glass and drove away. It was the beginning that you feel he’s distancing himself from you.

He still responded your texts in the first months, but over the time the intensity slowly decreased. Once he replied to your text no sooner than two weeks, only contained with a short reasoning, “sorry, been busy.” It must be rough in the first year of the college, so you tried to understand.

Until you send him one about your wedding day, telling him the place and the date of events. And a month passed, there’s no single replied come from him. Your anxiety skyrocketed in a week before the wedding day, you kept checking your phone waiting for his answer. To the point you’re hating yourself that you still need him just to calm yourself down. You felt empty, all the feelings of relieved thinking that you’ll be free just disappeared. It's enough, you definitely didn’t want this.

Few hours before the wedding started, you’ve done wearing your dress and make up. There’s no time left, you grabbed the necessary things as much as you can, then immediately stormed out of your house after you told your family that you need some time alone in your room.

You keep walking aimlessly with no thoughts, ignoring people gaze to the runaway bride. Didn’t even know how far you’ve gone and just realize the rain is pouring hard ever since. Your feet ache, blistered by the heels, you can’t drag yourself anymore due to how heavy your dress soaked in the rain.

You sat down on the side of road, the tears blending in with every raindrops fall onto you. What have I done? What if I rejected them since the beginning? And most importantly, What if I patiently wait for Seonghwa a little bit longer? The thoughts of losing him feared you the most. The pain is not only on the back of your feet, but now it’s spreading into your heart. It feels suffocated that you love him truly.

A pair of black leather shoes stopped in front of you, suddenly you didn't feel the rain hitting your body. You looked up and found Seonghwa holding an umbrella. His suit is drenched despite being under it. You proceed to stand on your feet, “You here.. you finally here.” The overwhelmed feeling is breaking you down, throwing out your weak fist on top of his chest, for several times. “Where have you been Hwa.. I need you, I- can’t do this”

He didn’t budge at all still covering you from the rain. Letting you to vent out all of your burden. He brought the palm of his hands towards your cheek, caressing it gently before pulled you into the kiss. He missed you so bad, until you could feel his warm tears rolling down touched your skin. He pulled out from the kiss, pressing his forehead to yours.

His reddening eyes staring deep down into your own, he sighed before closing his eyes. “First, I’m such a coward. I can’t stand you with someone else. I’m so sorry for acting so childish.” He letting out the same frustrations as you feel. Then he open his eyes, continuing his words, “I’ve always love you, from the beginning till now”

Putting your hands to the back of his neck, you pulled him closer, returning the kiss. Pouring out all of your feelings into it, hoping he’ll catch that you feel the same. I do, I love you too Park Seonghwa.

⁠✧

Warm. That’s what you feel right now. He’s behind you, wiped your back with lukewarm water after peeled off your soaked dress. Placing kisses on the side of your neck, down to your shoulder. While his another hand teasing your clit. You can’t keep your legs still due to tingling sensation on your core, splashing the water all over the floor.

It’s more than half an hour he continued to tease you in the bathtub, causing you to reach the orgasm over and over. You hold his hand, hoping he’ll stop. But it only made him flicked his fingers even faster. “Hwa.. enough..” You’ve said this for who knows how many times it is.

Pressing his lips to your ears, he letting out his honey voice softly, “Hm.. not yet.” He tugged your earlobe between his teeth, before pushing his fingers deeper into you. You gasped as it spread open your inside, then it curled up hitting your spot. Your body shaking violently, gripping on the side of the tub as you riding down the orgasm.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” He showers you compliments every time you came undone, while kissing the back of your neck.

He decided to carry you into his arms, then lay you down on the bed slowly, starting to kiss your forehead, down to your eyes, then to your pretty lips gently as if it’s too fragile. His hand roaming around to tease your nipple by pinching it a little.

Then he’s going down, holding your thigh open while his tongue busy exploring your slicked fold. Licking it up and down, devouring the spilled juice. He looked up, eyes fixed to your face, anticipating for every expression you made. He’ll suck hard on your clit, only to make you moaning his name in pleasure.

After being satisfied with it, he sit on his knee right under you. Stroking his hard member for few times till throwing his head back as he drowning in sensation. Your inside is twitching, looking at the way his cock throbbing hard between his fingers plus those scrumptious jaw of his.

Your fingertips brushed to his knee, begging for his attention. “Seonghwa..” He turned back to you, giving you a mischievous look “Hmm?”

“Please..” Squirming your legs, you trying to scoot over him desperately. Only wanting his tip slightly to touch your swollen cunt.

He moved back a little, “Say it clearly, I don’t get what you really want.”

“I want your dick inside of me, please.”

He immediately put it into you. Bringing his hand to intertwined with yours as soon as he saw you flinched cause of the first thrust. After you feel comfortable enough, he started moving his hips in steady pace.

He kept the eye contact while pressing the forehead against each other, occasionally planting soft kisses all over your face. You could feel he’s pulsing inside of you, gradually thrusting his hard member even faster. The feelings become unbearable, as he pushed your lower stomach with one hand while the other one gripping onto your waist to keep it stay still.

You moan out incoherent mess, reaching for your own climax. Can’t control your shuddering body as you feel his hot seeds filled you up, shooting all his load inside. He’s grinding for a few times, before pulled it out, causing his cum leaked, dripping down from your pussy. He scoop it out with his index finger then pushing it back in. “Would be a shame if it’s going wasted, right?” Throwing out rhetorical question, while bringing his finger towards your mouth to let you know how he taste like.

Now you snuggle up with him, placing your head on his chest. You can feel his heart beating rapidly, makes you think it’s your own. His fingers played with your hair, caressing it or twirling it around delicately. The two of you, spending the time together in this warm hotel room while the rainstorm outside never stopped. Suddenly his voice breaking the silence, “So, I want you to return my favor.”

You looked up to him, “Tell me how?”

He swept your hair to the side then placing a kiss on top of your head. “Will you spend the rest of your life with me?”

Your tears fall in instant, still can’t believe the feelings are mutual. You know he always there, he always save you, and you always love him from the deepest of your heart. You nodded,

“Yes, I will.”

[meiliarotten]

What's your hcs abt every merc's kinks?

Kink Headcanons (All Mercs!)

🔞Minors DNI🔞

The Masterlist

👟 Scout 👟

Very stereotypical interests, I honestly see Sout as kinda the most vanilla of the mercs

Not completely vanilla though. Not by a long shot

He’s definitely adventurous, and would he willing to try almost anything once as long as he’s with someone he trusts

Plus he’s an addict when it comes to praise

Tell him how good he’s doing while he’s fucking you, and he’ll have a very hard time keeping himself from coming right then and there.

If you’re willing to explore with him, I feel like you would witness quite a few kink awakenings.

Some things I think he would grow to enjoy are pegging, pet play, and femdom, but those are just my opinions!

🦅 Soldier 🦅

America is this man’s kink.

Ok, I’m joking. Kind of.

Soldier likes discipline, and he’ll definitely use his riding crop on you if you let him

However, that discipline goes both ways

He’ll start out with you as the bottom, so prepare to be the receiver of many spankings and swats

Then one day, he comes up to you, uncharacteristically bashful, and hands you the riding crop with a pleading look

He’s too ashamed to say that he wants you to top him, but you get the message real quick.

Once you unlock his switch side, you might even convince him to try pegging. He’s a real “man’s man” though, so make sure you’re delicate about it

🔥 Pyro 🔥

Thankfully, while Pyro is more than eager to play with fire on the battlefield, that fire does not translate into the bedroom (at least, not literally)

While Pyro doesn’t have a mask kink, a partner with a mask kink would be ideal for them, as they don’t like to show their face

However, if you don’t have a mask kink, blindfolds are always an option, and Pyro happens to like those very much

They love watching the way you squirm as the lack of sight enhances all of your other senses

Pyro also has a huge praise kink as well. They like to be told they’re doing a good job.

If they have an especially good day on the battlefield, you could offer to reward them later that night

💥 Demoman 💥

I’m gonna be honest, I was stumped on this one for a while

Eventually I finally settled on pegging

Allow me to explain

Watching the Meet the Demoman I just saw a man who, while he definitely enjoys his job, probably has a shit ton of stress

Add in the comic lore, and you’ve got all these familial expectations he’s gotta live up to as well

Basically, I think a night where he just gets to sit back and get ravished would be good for him

He would also probably have an affinity for oral, as he likes to eat you out in return

🥊 Heavy 🥊

This guy has a size kink. He likes smaller partners, and lucky for him, almost everyone is smaller than him, so he has quite the pool to pick from

There’s almost a kind of protective aspect in it for him. He likes to be able to protect his partner, to shelter them, and most importantly, pamper the absolute hell out of them

Seriously be ready to be waited on hand and foot by your own personal Russian bodyguard

I guess you could almost see it as a kind of service submission

Wow, service sub Heavy was not a take I was prepared to make but it does oddly make sense…

But as for his more dominant side, he doesn’t show it often, especially since he often worries about causing you pain during sex.

Usually you’ll be riding him

However, on the rare occasions when he’s willing, and you’re feeling especially comfortable and receptive, he will allow himself to be rough with you, teasing you about how small you are beneath him

🔧 Engineer 🔧

Toys. Specifically, ridiculously high tech toys.

Say what you will about a mercenary salary, it sure as hell lets you splurge sometimes.

And Engineer has definitely splurged, both on actual toys and on parts that he used to make his own

Yes, you heard (or rather, read) that right, this overachiever is out here making his own sex toys.

You and I both know that the Gunslinger probably has a vibrate function 😏

That said, I think Engie would have a particular kink for the classic “vibrating panties” scenario

Basically you are wearing the panties (or just a bullet vibe inside- it can really be anything that vibrates and stays put, it doesn’t have to be underwear) and Engie gets to press the buttons controlling the vibrations whenever he wants

He likes watching how you squirm and start to talk faster and louder, trying to cover up both the noise and your embarrassment.

He is the king of aftercare though, always letting you know how good you did.

🏥 Medic 🏥

Let’s get the obvious out of the way

I feel like Medic likes a lot of edgeplay. Possibly including blood, scalpels, and a few itty bitty surgeries here and there

Of course, it’s all consensual, but some people could still find it morbid.

On the more chill side, his kinks are actually pretty common.

These include impact play, edging, and sensory deprivation (for example, blindfolds). All of these go for both giving and receiving, btw

However one kink that I think is specific to him is how much he seems to love, and even prefer fucking you in the operating table.

Something about it just seems much more erotic than a normal bed

🦘 Sniper 🦘

Primal play, specifically being the predator in the scenario

Sniper is a pretty outdoorsy guy, so it figures that he would enjoy tracking you through a dense forest while you act as prey

Along with this comes outdoor sex as well

Something about taking you outside just seems so carnal and raw, it really gets him going

Plus, the chase just makes the final capture all the more satisfying, for both of you

Afterwards he’s immediately chill, carrying you back to the van for some much needed aftercare

And I just know someone out there is upset that I didn’t mention piss. I’m sorry. I’m still not gonna mention it.

🌹 Spy 🌹

A weirdly specific idea I’ve always held for Spy is that he likes waxplay

Something about the way the melted wax drips and solidifies in your body is very elegant and erotic to him (I have written a fic about this 👀)

Another big one is knife play. It definitely fits his theme

However, he never uses a sharp knife. The blade is always too dull to actually break the skin. But the way he builds up a scene is effective enough to make you feel as if you’re truly at his mercy

Basically Spy seems like a very formal dom to me, the kind that will lavish you with gifts while also making sure you never act spoiled. Brat tamer Spy, anyone?

Oh, and he likes to be called “sir.”

[redisaid]

Strangers - Part 1 of ??

A very special shoutout to @jujoobedoodling for their amazing art, and for sharing this neat little idea with me when I asked if there's any sort of fics they'd like to see.

So, fellas, is it gay to make Sylvaina fall in love over prison letters, in a nutshell? I dunno. Let's find out.

5146 Words

Read it on Ao3!

“I wasn’t expecting company.”

Jaina wants to assure her she didn't come to stare at her like she's some sabercat in a cage—teeth dulled on the bars, roar hoarse and failing. Only she realizes now that this is exactly why she's come. A wave of shame threatens to crash over her, but she dismisses it. She came to deliver Veressa’s letter, and to banish the notion that Sylvanas Windrunner truly was a stranger to her.

Staring at Sylvanas, waiting for her to rattle the bars of her would be cage, would do neither of those things for her.

“Certainly not you,” Sylvanas continues, drawling out the last word with her high, nasally elven accent, still chiming in a banshee double-tone.

They stand now in the Maw, where Jaina had been asked by her friend to draw an interdimensional portal to deliver a letter to her sister as only she and a handful of other mages on Azeroth could. Jaina had been reluctant to agree. She had refused at first, of course.

But here she was, all the same.

You, with that drawl and sneer and the arrow still aimed between her eyes, was about all that Jaina deserved from this woman. After all, Vereesa was right—at best, they were strangers.

“What is it you’ve come for? To deliver more demands from Tyrande? To report to her? To make sure I am completing my penance? Or did you come to gloat?”

The accusations pile up. Jaina lets them. She scans the tangle of strange and unnatural rocks jutting from the charcoal earth of this literal hell. It doesn’t take her long to realize she’s stumbled upon Sylvanas’ camp. Her home here in the Maw, simple, but well lived-in. The undead have no need for food or sleep and suffer minimally from lack of shelter, and while Jaina knows this, she still observes a makeshift bedroll, the embers of a dying fire, clustered close to a lean-to made mostly of chunks of dull grey metal, once the armor of some great beast or terrible construct long since vanished after its master’s defeat.

It has been a year on Azeroth. Jaina knows time stretches in the Shadowlands, but not by a factor of how much. She wonders how long it has been since Sylvanas has seen another person. Two years? A decade? A century?

The woman herself is little better than her camp. Her armor sits beside the fire, mostly shrugged off in rest, and while it looks well-kept, it is still worn. The dark leathers she wears beneath it, and now exclusively, are much the same. At first glance, they do not look so different as when she lay in Oribos after her own defeat, as Uther bade them to wait for her to wake and explain her actions. However, Jaina’s keen eyes find the rips and the tears, the mending that has been executed with scraps of grey cloth and grey metal and grey leather fashioned from the skin of a grey, doubly dead beast. Everything here is grey. Hell is devoid of color, but Sylvanas’ eyes burn into her, bright and blue, demanding an answer.

So she gives it, “None of those are my reason. Your sister, my friend…Vereesa asked me to come.”

Truly, Vereesa’s choices were limited. Only those who had walked the Maw, of their volition or Sylvanas’, could safely find it again. Only fewer of the great mages of Azeroth were capable of entering it without going through Oribos, or asking permission from the entities that ruled there. Jaina, Khadgar, and a few heroic Mawwalkers perhaps were the only ones who could have delivered this letter. And while Jaina had been reluctant, she was not about to offer Khadgar the excuse to use this place as another of his many distractions if Vereesa were to ask him instead.

At least, that was another one of her reasons for accepting.

Only now does the arrow lower, and the bow with it. At the mention of her sister’s name, Sylvanas gives up her fight.

“How can I trust her not to tear me apart, if we’re to be alone there?” Jaina had asked the youngest Windrunner sister, back in her office in Boralus, days ago.

“I suppose you can’t,” had been Vereesa’s answer. “You don’t know her.”

Jaina holds out the letter. It is folded neatly and sealed and she has done her best to resist the temptation to read it or even scry upon it with magic. Such is her trust for Vereesa. Her sister, not so much.

Perhaps this will be the end of it, then. She’ll deliver her letter. She’ll make arrangements for a response. She’ll leave. Sylvanas will go back to gathering souls, living even though she does not live, in this ramshackle camp—this prison of her own making. Jaina will have done something good and satisfied her curiosity. The sabercat will wither in her cage, having gained only further shame from her observation.

Jaina isn’t sure why she expects anything more than that, but she does.

“She wrote you a letter,” she explains. “I’m not able to bring her here like this for her to deliver it herself. Perhaps something can be arranged for her to visit by other means, if you’re interested.”

Sylvanas hesitates. Jaina watches her think.

She watches her closely, waiting for the muscles in her broad shoulders to twitch and aid in pointing her bow upward again. She finds more rends in her leathers, more attempts at mending. She watches, and finds a woman determined, though for what she isn’t certain.

Sylvanas Windrunner as she is now is a stranger to her. Once, her eyes burned red with rage and hatred and it was easy enough to say that Jaina had known her as an enemy. She and her Forsaken whispered, “Death to the living,” though they were of the same people Jaina had once led in Theramore—survivors of Lordaeron, as it were. Scarred in different ways by the same man.

Yet as before, even when Uther, dead and scarred by the same hand, bid Jaina to see reason and work with Sylvanas to defeat the Jailer, she cannot help but to fall into old habits. Magic pulses at her fingertips, waiting. She is ready for Sylvanas to attack her. She is ready to know her as an enemy once again.

This woman burned Teldrassil. She’d resurrected Derek to use against her. She’d blighted her own city in a rage rather than give it to the Alliance, to Jaina specifically, who had turned that battle in their favor.

Jaina is certain that this is still what she is—a burner and blighter, a screaming banshee that knows only hatred—and she’s ready for her.

She is not ready for Sylvanas to put down her bow and the arrow knocked within it, and begin to walk over to meet her.

She’s not ready for the soft muttering that follows, and the wry chuckle that comes with it, “I doubt Tyrande would allow me such a luxury as a visit from my sister.”

This is no banshee, no formless enemy. No, Sylvanas is an elf, still undead and still much unchanged from the last time Jaina saw her, but now walking toward her with purpose. She moves like Alleria, proud and powerful. She smirks a little, the same way as Vereesa does when she thinks no one is looking. Her hair, though dull and ashen in death, is a shade between Alleria’s honey gold and Vereesa’s cool silver.

“You’re so certain she’s changed?” Jaina had asked Vereesa before she’d left. “You were only allowed to speak with her for a few minutes.”

“I know my sister, Jaina,” Vereesa had replied, head tilted upward, smiling. “I know that I have her back, or I will, should she ever be allowed to return home.”

Where is home, Jaina wonders, holding out the letter, to a woman who died for her country, and razed the one she built out of the ashes of a nation everyone else abandoned?

If and when she completes her penance, who will want Sylvanas Windrunner, burner of trees, blighter of cities? Manipulated or not, she did these things. No amount of souls ferried to better places can change that. And while Vereesa claims much, she cannot move the inevitable mountains that will stand in her way if she chooses to defend her sister, to make a home for her in Azeroth again one day.

The dip of Sylvanas’ head upon her graceful neck seems to say to Jaina that she knows this. The way she holds up her hands, bare and long-fingered without any gloves or gauntlets to cover them, tells Jaina she knows what she is to her—an enemy still. A problem unwanted, surely.

But still, Jaina had agreed to come here. She is determined to make sure that the reason for it all was not as simple as gawking at a toothless beast, though Sylvanas doesn’t seem as though she will bite.

She takes the letter from her. She looks to her. She waits.

“I can’t speak for Tyrande, or any authority Oribos and its contingent might have on the matter,” Jaina tells her. “But I can deliver a reply, if you want.”

Now this close to her, Jaina can tell Sylvanas is taller than her sisters. More broad-shouldered like Alleria than slight as Vereesa is, bordering between both of them with the elder’s wildness and Vereesa’s well-manicured elven beauty. She is neither and both, but seems to have maintained some semblance of grooming, despite having no one to look nice for. Her hair is combed and neat. She is clean, with only the barest hint of the grey dust and ash that swirls in the air of this place clinging to her skin.

That grey, at least, is warm in nature, and Sylvanas’ is cold, more toward purple. Their meeting is an interesting contrast of hues.

“Very well,” she answers, one long finger tracing the seal on the letter as she eyes it. “I would offer you tea while you wait, but I have no such thing.”

While she waits. Jaina hadn’t assumed she’d be allowed to, asked to, or really anything but run off with sneers and insults at best, arrows at worst.

She supposes that if she hadn’t seen another person in a year, she too would want them to stay a while, no matter who they were. But has it been longer? The state of Sylvanas’ clothes says yes.

Jaina endeavors to break any falling of awkward silence to seek the answer, “It has been a year or so, on Azeroth, since I returned from the Shadowlands. Has it been the same for you?”

She stiffens, recalling who it was who brought her here the first time, though she saw little of Sylvanas then. Only the Mawsworn that were meant to hold her captive, and keep her from escaping Torghast, though she managed to do so several times. Jaina knows now that her purpose in doing so was just to keep her out of the way—to keep her from interfering with what was to be done with Anduin.

Anduin, another reason for her to come here. Yet she did not find him. The Maw is but one of many possible places the boy could have gone, though he’s hardly a boy anymore. Jaina knows what he did and was made to do weighs heavily on him. She’d thought that maybe he too would seek penance, and wouldn’t care if it was his own to seek, yet there is no sign of him here. This camp is meant only for one.

“There is no day or night here for me to know,” Sylvanas tells her as she slides a sharp-looking fingernail beneath the wax seal and opens the letter. “One could keep track by counting the hours, I suppose, but trust me, it is a dull pastime. It has been a long time. A very long time.”

A long time, Jaina thinks, to wear the same clothes and see no one but lost souls.

A spectral fluttering of wings catches her eye and reminds her that Sylvanas does have one other companion besides the souls she ferries. Dori’thur’s wide eyes catch Jaina’s as she looks up into the canopy formed by this tangle of rock, ironically almost nest-like. The owl spirit makes no motion to acknowledge her, so carefully does she watch her charge instead. Doomed or honored to be her warden, Jaina can’t decide. The owl, it seems, does not care either way. She just watches.

Sylvanas follows her gaze, and a little smile creaks its way into lips that seem to forget how to bend that way. “Don’t mind the owl. It loves to stare.”

“She. Dori’thur,” Jaina corrects.

Sylvanas’ blue eyes are wide for a moment, drinking in the information in a way that shows it is clearly new to her. No one bothered to tell her the name of her warden, really?

“I didn’t know,” Sylvanas confesses. “And here I’ve just been calling you owl this whole time,” she calls up at the spire of twisted stone that Dori’thur perches on.

The spirit cocks her head just slightly at Sylvanas, the first and only acknowledgement she gives.

Jaina stands for a moment, maybe two. She looks around at the humble camp, the spectral owl, the once fearsome undead elf in her ragged leathers, reading her letter with blue eyes that look strange on her.

Sylvanas looks up once Jaina’s gaze comes to rest on her. Her long brows furrow briefly, simmering in the awkwardness, the wrongness of this.

They have never met, despite all the things they both share and do not share, in a way that allowed them the luxury of quiet conversation. And despite the nagging curiosity that dragged her here, the continued insistence by Vereesa that she did not know her, or least as anything but an enemy, Jaina does not know what to say to her.

So instead, she offers, “I can go, and return after a time to allow you your privacy.”

Sylvanas nearly drops the letter. She takes a step toward her. She catches herself and does not take a second. She reaches out a bare and empty hand to Jaina, then drops it to her side immediately upon realizing what she’s done.

“No. No,” she says, trying to make the words come out not as a plea, but anything else. “A while for you is longer for me. I would—I would rather be as prompt as possible, you understand. I have my penance to work on, still more souls to guide. I don’t have time to wait around for you to return here.”

It is a poor excuse, and they both know it. They know it in the silence between the ask Sylvanas isn’t actually asking and the reply Jaina struggles to give. They know it in the way Sylvanas reaches for her, a woman she does not know in any other way but an enemy, and apparent friend to her younger sister and her owl warden, because she and her letter and her excuses for delivering it are the only reason she’s had any contact with something remotely like herself in a long, long time.

Jaina is living and breathing and human and annoyed, but curious. She is not undead and newly made whole of soul again, though she supposes that’s not so new anymore. She knows, though, that she cannot possibly understand what it is Sylvanas is thinking as she reaches for her. But still, she reaches.

Jaina does not leave. “I will wait then.”

Where she will wait is the question, really, and she sees Sylvanas ask it of herself too as she looks back toward her camp. Still, she gestures for Jaina to follow her.

It is a strange time she lives in, Jaina thinks, as she does.

And this is how she ends up seated on a stool of chipped rock, across the dying fire from where Sylvanas sits on her bed roll, reading her letter.

Sylvanas is undead and does not need a bed or a stool or a fire. Her owl warden is a spirit of nature and needs no comforts as well. Yet Sylvanas has made them, and taken the time to make them. She reads and sits cross-legged like a child. Jaina’s eyes pick at her leathers still, finding more wear and tear as she reads, counting the patches and stitches. It irks her. For some reason, of all the things, the state of her clothes bothers Jaina the most.

She’s never seen Sylvanas in anything other than fine armor, meant to intimidate as much as it was to impress. And while she still has fine armor, stacked neatly by the fire in her rest, Jaina can see that too is worn.

“Do you want new things?” Jaina eventually asks. She can’t stand the silence any longer, though from the rustling of the second of four pages, she knows Sylvanas isn’t done reading.

Sylvanas looks up. Her blue eyes dart from Jaina to her armor and herself. To the contrast of warm grey dust and cool grey skin. The mended rips and tears of her leathers match the similar state of her skin. Scars abound as little pale points and lines, streaking across her like stars in the night sky. Just barely visible at the tip of her sternum, beneath the dark leather, a gnarled and twisting point belies the deep scar where Frostmourne rent her and stole her soul, for the first time.

Sylvanas seems disturbed by the question, or perhaps by her own appearance. Maybe both. “I have done the best I could to maintain what I was given.”

“I didn’t mean to criticize,” Jaina tells her immediately, because this is the line she must draw and draw right away, regardless of how many cities this woman may have burned, or under whose influence she burned them. “It’s just—well, with Vereesa’s help, I’m sure, we could get you new things.”

“She has not mentioned this in her letter thus far,” Sylvanas says, holding up the paper as if it were the armor she so desperately seems to want to hide within now.

“She has not seen you,” Jaina tells her.

And I do not know you, she tells herself.

Jaina does not know her, but she knows the scars that form the map of the stars that make up her skin. She knows which is Frostmourne, which is the line under her eye from Saurfang’s ax at the Mak’gora. She knows there’s another from an ice lance she’s thrown, yes there, near her left elbow where there was a gap in her old skull armor.

She can feel that Sylvanas wants to shrink under her gaze, to disappear. But she does not. She sits up a little, chest out, daring Jaina to say something else.

“Then I’ll draft a list in my reply, and trust that you’ll explain the reasoning behind it,” Sylvanas offers in challenge.

“I will.”

Dori’thur, thankfully, chooses this time to swoop down and alight herself onto the top of Sylvanas’ lean-to, rather than leave them to simmer in silence again.

The owl looks between them, then at the paper in Sylvanas’ hands. Sylvanas, having gone back to reading, simply says, “Not for you, owl.”

“Dori’thur,” Jaina reminds.

“Not for you, Dori’thur. What an odd name,” Sylvanas notes, but says nothing else.

“Does she leave you to report to Tyrande?” Jaina wonders, watching both the owl and her charge now.

“That would require her to stop watching me, so no. I do not know how or if Tyrande knows what she sees. Frankly, it matters little to me. I have said that I will do what was asked of me. I do not need a babysitter to ensure that I do,” Sylvanas tells her.

Though Jaina catches something in the middle of her words. A brief dashing of blue eyes. Another little smirk, elven and wry and lopsided in such a way that’s distinctly Windrunner. She wonders who was the first to hold it. Alleria? Their mother or father? Or a Windrunner before them? An elf so ancient Jaina struggles with the numbers.

All she knows is that Sylvanas seems to enjoy the company of her warden, in a way. And that her little secret smile is something Jaina never thought she’d see on that face.

Objectively, dead and haunted and guilty as she is, she’s beautiful still. All the Windrunners are, after all.

Sylvanas is looking up at her again, expecting Jaina to challenge that notion. She’s probably expecting her to question this camp, this fire, these small comforts. The time she takes to mend her ragged clothes. The rest she dares to seek from time to time, though there are no days or nights here in the Maw to track it by.

Jaina clears her throat. “How goes it then, your work?” she asks, and nearly immediately regrets it for how silly that sounds.

How goes it, rounding up the souls you doomed to an eternity of torture? How goes it, making up for decisions that were not entirely yours, but still part and parcel wishes of your own? How goes it, living in the prison of your own failures, alone save for an owl that does nothing but stare at you?

There is a justice in this, yes. Jaina wants to sink into that and never leave. It is easier to feel like this is justice in action she’s seeing. The tedium and wear of it all are things Sylvanas deserves to endure. She deserves worse, depending on who is asking.

But the woman in front of her looks tired. She is as worn as her clothing, body as stiff and rigid as her defensive words.

Jaina will not deny her the comfort a fire and a rest might bring, now and then, though she doesn’t understand why Sylvanas seeks them. Either way, demanding she go without is a cruelty beyond necessity.

“It goes,” Sylvanas answers. “There are still many more for me to find. Torghast alone will take countless more visits to empty. The Beast Warrens are a maze I’ve still yet to properly map and account for, among other such haunts in this hellish place.”

She does not say more. She reads. Jaina watches. Dori’thur too. Sylvanas sneaks a glance at her every now and then, blue eyes flitting fast over the edge of the parchment, then back below it.

Jaina waits, as she said she would.

Sylvanas Windrunner is a stranger to her, but invited her to what home she had here all the same.

“I miss her,” Vereesa had told her, before she left. “I thought the sister I knew was gone, but I know now that she’s still herself, or is now, at least. I had mourned her, Jaina. I had mourned her for years, but now I can say that I miss her. She’s not gone, she’s just not here. And I don’t know when she’ll be back. You can’t blame me for trying.”

Jaina didn’t blame her.

Flipping to page three of Vereesa’s loopy handwriting, Sylvanas says, “I must look a sight to you, for you to say something about the state of my gear.”

Jaina corrects herself. She does not know Sylvanas, but she knew one thing about her, well, about who she once was. She was notoriously vain, and though Vereesa claimed this was exaggerated, she was known to repeatedly tell a story about how Sylvanas had screamed at her once for getting mud on her dress right as she was headed out the door for a Ranger ball, like she thought it was the funniest thing in the world.

And Jaina has just come here to her prison, the first other person she’s seen in gods know how long, handed her a letter, and told she looked a mess.

“It just seems to have been some time, that’s all,” Jaina assures her.

Sylvanas huffs a laugh she hides behind parchment, just like the odd blue of her eyes. Jaina struggles to replace it with the red of her memories.

“If there’s anything else you want, such that I could carry with me through a portal, then ask it,” Jaina offers, perhaps out of guilt.

Perhaps out of curiosity again, for what this woman might ask for. What comforts she might crave.

Sylvanas eyes her at this statement. It seems this is the first time she really takes Jaina in, perhaps to assess her intentions, or perhaps to assess how much she can carry. Jaina isn’t sure. But she knows she now feels like that sabercat in the cage. She wonders if Sylvanas still thinks she has her teeth.

She thinks, perhaps, that she doesn’t want the judgment of a virtually immortal and beautiful elf. Undead though she is, scarred and worn, she thinks Sylvanas might have plenty of criticisms to offer over her messy braid, the prudish nature and drab colors of her Kul Tiran garb, or the crows feat that have begun to claw in earnest at the dull blue of Jaina’s eyes, which only glow when she shows her real teeth.

Instead of worrying about that, Jaina wonders what she might ask for, if she were to spend potential centuries in hell doing penance. Something to pass the time. Playing cards, perhaps? Though Solitaire would get old quickly, and Dori’thur doesn’t look like she’d be much competition at Hearthstone. An instrument to play? Surely those nimble fingers of Sylvanas’ would be clever on a lute or lyre or something elven and haughty and old. Jaina had never learned to play anything with proficiency in all of her thirty-eight years of life, but might come out of such a situation fairly talented at the fiddle or flute. Her brothers would be impressed, surely.

But what would Sylvanas do, to pass the time, in her idle moments? Would she fletch arrows for game that didn’t exist, and flesh she didn’t need to eat, enemies already defeated? Would she sharpen the shortsword Jaina could see resting in its scabbard beside the fire on a whetstone until it was honed and wicked, only to have nothing to plunge it into?

Would Jaina ever be able to consider anything but war-like interests for her, even as she saw Sylvanas considering her from her bedroll, shoulders bare, hair loose, clearly not ready for any sort of battle?

“Paper,” she answers. “Ink and a few quills too, if you’d be so generous.”

Paper was not anywhere close to the answer Jaina thought she’d give.

Sylvanas holds the letter up again as her armor, her shield, her weapon. “Vereesa has asked me to reply, for us to continue to correspond. I wish to write her back.”

“Right, that’s easy enough,” Jaina agrees.

“What was that hesitation? Afraid I’ll draw up plans for world domination upon my eventual return? I’m not interested, truly. Believe me, Proudmoore, it’s not worth it,” Sylvanas assures her.

There is mischief in those secret smiles. A spark in glowing blue eyes that dares Jaina to challenge it, but in the way a child challenges her friend to a foot race. A craving for competition, maybe, in any form, or companionship on the barest of levels.

“Jaina,” she corrects her. “If I am to continue to deliver said letters, as it were, you might as well call me Jaina. And I didn’t think you had your sights set so lofty, but thanks for clarifying.”

Sylvanas nods to this. “So many names have I earned today. Though I’ll still call Dori’thur ‘owl’. Osa is the Thalassian word. It has more punch, right, osa?”

Dori’thur cocks her head just slightly at the term, then slowly blinks her large eyes.

“Very astute, thank you for adding so much to the conversation, as always,” Sylvanas sighs.

Jaina supposes that she too, would talk to a silent owl, if she were left alone for so long. She would probably go insane long before her clothes began to wear out, if it were her.

“Either way, I’ll continue to deliver your letters,” Jaina assures her. “I hadn’t realized this was a more than once sort of favor I’m doing, but I suppose I should have.”

“I’d say Vereesa is lucky to befriend such a powerful mage and be able to make such inane requests of her, but she always did like mages,” Sylvanas notes, going back to reading and flipping to the final page of Vereesa’s letter.

This time, though, the smile stays on her face too long to be a secret. Long enough for Jaina to watch her get lost in a memory, maybe two, and still come out smiling.

Smiling at her sister, a fondness beyond ages and time and dimensions and death—and the reason, perhaps, why Vereesa felt compelled to write to her, and send her friend to check on her.

“Tea,” Sylvanas mutters, eyes still glued to the parchment.

“Padron?”

“Bring tea when you come back,” Sylvanas tells her.

“What kind do you like?” Jaina asks, uncertain. She didn’t think undead drank.

Even if they did, she wouldn’t know the answer. Vereesa likes chamomile, sometimes. She doesn’t really drink tea. Alleria, well, Jaina has never seen Alleria drink anything but alcohol and would be afraid to ask if had any other preferences for more sober sorts of beverages.

“Whatever kind you like. It’s not for me,” Sylvanas says.

“Are you telling me that you’d like me to bring tea for myself when I come back?” Jaina asks, needing desperately for something about this request to be clear to her.

Sylvanas laughs her little laugh. It sounds like it’s been sanded down, worn like the caged sabercat’s teeth, like tattered leathers.

“I suppose I am. I don’t want to be a bad host, but I’m afraid all I have to offer here are rocks and broken war machines and wandering souls. None of these are fit to drink, or to give to company.”

Company. Jaina hadn’t expected to be company to her. She hadn’t expected the hidden smiles and weary laughs and how Sylvanas had tried to cover the desperation in the way she reached out after her. She hadn’t expected to find her nestled in a little camp, forging a mockery of a life that had long been stolen from her and the comforts of living she no longer needed, but clearly still craved.

Jaina isn’t sure. She doesn’t know anymore. She didn’t, even as she first cast the portal spell this morning that would take her to the Maw. She was curious. She still is.

But company, she supposes, is a thing she can try to be.

[kaicubus]

can you do what it would be like if you had a fight with wayne? nothing violent, just like a typical couple fight :)

Getting into an argument with Wayne

warnings ✩° : mentions of yelling and arguing, one mention of blood, cursing, but it’s fluff...

pairing ✩° : wayne mcculloch  x gn!reader

authors note ✩° : thank you for the request!! i’m really trying to catch up with all my shit for forgive me..

- The main thing about dating and being with Wayne is that he treats you like royalty and would never ever want to argue with you, he avoids fights like the plague not just because he doesn’t like them, but also because he just doesn't know how to even argue. He just sits there helplessly and clueless, listening to you.

- Until you say something and out right spell it out for him, Wayne very actively avoids you because in his mind, if you're mad at him you want nothing to do with him. He just cant grasp the fact that normal couples argue and one petty argument isn't going to break you guys up.

“Where are you going? Are you leaving me right now?”

“I was just uh, going out. I thought we were breaking up?”

“No, Wayne, I’m not breaking up with you over turning my clothes fucking pink because you don’t know how to do laundry. Just, let me know next time when you’re going to try and do something you hardly ever used to do, please?”

“Oh. Ok. Could we do laundry together next time?”

- If and when you guys do fight, it’ll be about something like about him fighting too much and hurting himself for you, or him not knowing when he said something that pissed you off.

- Past the original confusion and first argument, it gets easier and he very quickly realizes what he has to do. He learns how to control the situation and properly handle when things get heated but it takes so much patience with him at first. When I say he’s clueless, he’s clueless.

- All Wayne’s ever known to solve his problems are break, smash, hit, and bleed, so mundane couple arguments don’t seem all too serious to him, which you have to remind him they ARE and not everything requires physical violence and not everything is that serious.

- Wayne’s the type of person to go all out when he’s in the wrong, or to protect those who he loves. So that means he’ll buy you flowers, or cut them from someones yard, get you something he knows you like, write you a note, or even take you out to a restaurant or animal shelter date.

- It often takes you by surprise by the lengths he goes for you, because at a first glace Wayne doesn’t seem like the type to be overly romantic. Thing is, he’s not, he just puts in effort and tries a lot just to make you happy. And he knows a lot about you too, so it’s pretty easy to be forgiven.

- He hardly ever gets mad at you, even when you’re well in the wrong, but there are some times where if you nag too much or persist for long enough, he’ll get frustrated and storm away from you. Wayne’s quiet the whole time, but you can tell he’s angry or at least a little mad by the way he acts and just looks, but he tries his best not to make it too obvious.

- For you it’s way easier to understand Wayne than even Wayne understands himself, mostly because when he’s mad he ends up shutting everything and everyone out. It’s his tunnel vision. But you observe and you know all the right ways to diffuse the situation and catch onto what you did. So it all works out!!

[komoboko]

Hi! Not a request but just curious. What kind of pets do you think the kananoko squad would have in a modern au?

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐤𝐨 𝐬𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐨𝐰𝐧

ft: tanjiro kamado, zenitsu agatsuma, inosuke hashibira, kanao tsuyuri, genya shinazugawa

These are 1am rambles brah

TANJIRO would like to raise a dog, standard but oddly fitting for him. I think he would have multiple to be honest, he enjoys breeds that are more active so I would see him with a golden retriever or a Labrador. His pets really like you to!! Almost like he silently taught them to be just like him.

He definitely has dogs that get big but still thinks they are lap dogs 100%. Whenever you come over to his house and sit anywhere it’s a 50% chance a dog will come lay near you, next to you, or usually on top of you. His dogs are kinda spoiled to, he’ll you he scolds them but you caught him giving them treats when he was suppose to one time.

ZENITSU wants something small, not to big and easy to manage. Personally I think he own a bunch of guinea pigs. Very random choice but just hear me out. They remind me of his sparrow, he likes to hold them when he’s around the house. You may see him walking in a thick turtleneck during the summer, but that’s just because his guinea pig is resting in the next area.

They are a little stubborn though, even zenitsu doesn’t know why. They can get mad and almost bit you before, but that’s normally if they haven’t eaten. You don’t what zenitsu feeds them but he definitely has those really thick guinea pigs just for no reason at all. Well there is a reason as you have to invite his guinea pig to the table to eat with you all during dinner. Also obanai is banned from coming over is kaburamaru is tagging along.

INOSUKE probably wants a really unconventional pet, like I bet he tried to convince you to let him get a boar before. In the end he sticks with a dog like tanjiro. Just the breeds are different I bet he wants have to have a doberman or a German Shepard. He wants to train those dogs for war I tell you.

You refused to enter his house for a bit until his dogs get to know you, you preferred keeping in your feet and not getting tackled by his dogs. He likes to play fight with them always playing fetch with them outside. Although besides this you to went a farm that was mixed with a shelter where they have this really small boar. Every time you go there inosuke always spends time without. He named the lil dude megatron.

KANAO I feel like would have a bird of some sorts. A really well trained one as well. Not like a usual house pet but those really expensive exotic birds. She’s trained it and had help from professionals to train it now, it’s at this point where you can almost have full fledged conversation with it. It knows both of your names, the food it likes everything.

Sometimes the bird is unusually smart.. like the time you brought snacks that you and the bird can both eat but kanao never wants you to. When she can back you had everything hidden and the perfect fool proof lie created. Until the bird “coincidentally” said your name and the beaks brand right after. You were the one getting in trouble and her bird face no repercussions.

GENYA is pretty straightforward he just wants a cat. He likes how they’re more chill and calm and sometimes just hang by themselves or with him. also because the cat owning trait was subconsciously influenced by gyomei’s love for cats. It just grew on him eventually. I think I can see him with one of those black and white bicolor cats but I doubt he would care about the breed.

You tend to compare Genya to his cat a lot because of how similar they look in the face. For some reason Genya’s cat just looks mad, all the time. He could be giving it treats and it would just have the more monotone expression on its face. The cat doesn’t mind you though, Genya could be calling it thinking it’s asleep. Only to find it trailing after you while you go to sit on his couch.

[alldevilsarehere90]

hiii just saw your prompt list, would love some fluff for daryl with 19 and 13 xx

Title: Good enough

Pairing: Daryl x fem reader

Summary: A confrontation in the woods, after you make a almost fatal mistake on a run, doesn’t have the outcome you were expecting.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of walkers, descriptions of disposing of walkers

A/N: Thank you so much for sending me this request, I'm so grateful. Prompts: "Are you always this infuriating?" and "I'll kiss that smile right off your face, just say when." This one got a little angsty, but i kept the ending fluffy. Please enjoy!

This was the third time you'd been out this week, the third time trying to find medical supplies for everyone staying at the prison and meaning, the third time being outside the walls with Daryl.

While the two of you worked incredibly well as a team; being two of the best fighters in your group, your personalities however, seem to clash more and more frequently nowadays. 

With the increased runs meant increased awkward silences, snide comments followed by harsh jabs. 

If you were honest, you didn't know why he angered you so much but something about him really rubbed you up the wrong way but no matter how much time you spent together you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. Equally you had no idea what you’d done to annoy Daryl, your mere presence seemed to irritate him in ways that you could only describe as irrational.

“We’re losing light, we should camp here?” His voice rasped into the silence, pulling you out of your manic thoughts, that were overcoming you more than you’d care to admit.

Glancing around the wooded area, you noted you had a lot of cover, it was as good a place as any but the idea of being this out in the open had your heart spiking. It had been a while since you had slept outside at night without the prison walls and fences surrounding you. You hadn’t expected to get used to that so quickly and yet here you are, panicking about sleeping in the woods, something you had all done more than enough of. You felt pathetic and irritated at yourself, so naturally you aimed that at the closest person to you, which more often than not was him.

“Here? Really?” your arms folded across your chest as you leaned your weight more on one leg and your hip jutting out with attitude, you knew he hated it and yet you couldn't stop yourself.

“Wha’s wrong with it?” He growled, starting on the defensive already. 

“You don’t even want to try and find somewhere…sheltered?”

He stared at you, face unwavering and emotionless. “Na.” And with that he put down his backpack and began setting up camp.

Sucking in a deep breath, willing yourself not to throw a rock at the back of his head, you grumbled, “Fine.” joining him by pulling out your sleeping bag and unravelling it more aggressively than was necessary. 

You helped with the tent as much as you could without feeling like you were a hindrance to him, attempting to ignore his side eye and impatient grunts and once everything was set up, night had truly arrived. 

The darkness swallowed your landscape into a gaping black abyss. You could no longer see most of the surrounding tree’s and the thick black beyond them was suffocating. Possible eyes hiding in those shadows made your chest feel tight and put your nerves on edge.

Daryl started a small fire and with the small amount of light and warmth it brang it eased your fear somewhat, even with it maybe enticing nearby walkers it was a risk you were willing to take. It was not the dead monsters that had fear churning your stomach, it was the living ones.

The silence was as thick as the darkness, that was until Daryl said, “Yer wanna take first watch or yer want me to?”

You didn’t like the idea of either, you knew sleep would elude you but you were worried sitting and staring into the night your mind would play tricks on you, only increasing your fear. And fear made people stupid. You needed to get your head in the game, for your own sake and Daryl’s. A mistake out here could cost you both dearly.

“I’ll do the second shift if you don’t mind.”

He nodded, eyeing you warily. “A’ight.” When he didn’t look away, you shifted uncomfortably on the ground, a twig snapping underneath you making you jump. 

“Listen, what happened back there–”

“We don’t need to do this.” You cut him off, your face flushing from the memory of your earlier raid in the store. Proving your point that a mistake can cost you dearly and today, you not checking thoroughly, you almost paid the price.

He continued staring at you. “I think you should stay home on the next run.”

Instant fury and embarrassment riled up in your chest, burning as it rose, your skin feeling hot all the way up your throat to your hairline. “What?”

“I’ll take Glenn, s’fine. Yer clearly need a break.” he spoke so casually, picking food out of his teeth with a pocket knife.

Your hands shook at your sides, trying to keep some semblance of control you clenched them into fists. “I’m fine, I don’t need a break.” you spoke slowly through gritted teeth.

“Ya do. It ain’t me that almost got bit by a walker today.” He shot at you, his voice low, words suddenly so full of anger, you almost reeled back before your hackles raised in retaliation. 

“That’s fucking life now Daryl, it’s almost everyday we have to deal with that shit, so don’t act like it’s not a regular occurance.” Your voice quivered from trying to contain your red hot outrage, threatening to erupt.

He scoffed, only infuriating you more, “I ain’t ever seen ya come that close to being one of ‘em, so don’t gimme tha shit. If I weren’t there, woulda been it for ya.”

Before you could even process the movement, your legs were lifting you and closing the distance between the two of you. Your fists still balled at your sides, knuckles white from your grip you were unable to release. He was immediately on his feet, eyes fixed on yours.

“Yes, Daryl, I’m aware of that. You’ve saved my life more times than I can count but let’s not forget, it goes both ways.”

“I ain’t ever been as stupid as you were today.”

You flinched, reeling, the sting of his words felt as real as if he had physically slapped you in the face. “Are you always this infuriating? What the fuck is your problem?”

“You dun get it, do ya? If somethin' happens to ya, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

Your body froze at his sudden honesty, knowing how it sounded but refusing to let yourself believe that was the meaning behind those words. Your muscles relaxed slightly, confusion sating some of the anger that had your body trembling. “You aren’t responsible for me Daryl, no-one’s going to blame you if something happens to me.”

He rubbed his face with the palm of his hand, turning his back on you before spinning right back your way. “I dun give a shit bout what anyone thinks. What am I supposed to do if ya ain’t here no more?” he yelled, eyes still on you but now faltering in their confidence slightly.

You feel yourself gulp, trying to moisten the desert dry throat you have suddenly.

“What the fuck are you on about Daryl? You’d be fine, you don’t need me.” Your hands hung limply at your sides, all anger distinguished, now too distracted at the turn this fight seems to have taken.

“The hell I don’t.” His voice was quiet now as his eyes dropped to the ground, his face a slightly pinker shade than usual. Was he blushing?

You were silent, for the first time ever in a heated exchange with him and for once you had no idea how to respond. No comeback, no smart remark; nothing. You were completely taken aback. Not to mention the insanely loud pounding of your heart in your ears made it hard to concentrate. You wiped your hands on your jeans, realising how clammy they suddenly were.

“Forget it,” he storms off into the tent, leaving you standing alone with nothing but your wild thoughts and frozen limbs. That only lasts a minute before your irritation reared its ugly head again, your feet on autopilot following him in.

“Na-ah, you can’t leave it there.” you said pushing into the tent. "Tell me what the hell you mean."

"Na, nuthin’." He'd sat himself down on his sleeping bag, knees resting in the crooks of his arms.

“No, why the fuck do you care so much, when half the time you can’t stand being around me anyway.” you sat down opposite him, running a hand roughly through your hair, exhausted from today’s earlier events and now this.

He glanced up at you through his messy fringe. “I like being around yer.” he voice was just above a whisper, quite the difference to a few minutes ago. His mood swings were giving you whiplash.

“You could have fooled me.” you stare him down, trying to get a read on him. “Why do you act like you hate me most of the time?”

You watched as he chewed the inside of his mouth nervously, avoiding your eyes again and just shrugged.

You shook your head, “Daryl Dixon, that’s not good enough. I deserve an explanation.”

“That’s just it, yer deserve better, I ain’t good enough to feel the way I do about yer.” He growled.

Realisation hits you like a plank of wood right the face, but disbelief still clouded your judgement. You needed clarity. “And how do you feel, exactly?”

He stood abruptly and so did you in response, his calm mood now vanished. “Yer know how I feel!”

“Actually I don’t, Daryl. I'm good at many things but reading minds is not one of them.”

He turns his back on you, in the small space between you, shoulders slumped defeated. “I dun’ hate ya, never have. M’sorry you thought that.”

You wanted to reach out and touch his shoulder, comfort him, ease his troubled mind but your feet and arms were rooted to the spot, afraid if you moved then this entire conversation would cease to be real. You needed it to be real. You needed to hear what he had to say.

“I’m an idiot for feeling the way I do ‘bout yer, I know that. I’m not good enough for someone like yer. I’ve tried to stop, m’sorry,  I just can’t.”

Your heart felt broken, how can this man see himself this way. It didn’t make a damn bit of sense to you. And right now, in this moment, you realised exactly why he infuriated you so much. 

You had been doing the same thing he had; snapping, arguing every chance you got, disagreeing for the sake of it because you also didn’t feel like you deserved him.

“I don’t want you to stop.” You whispered.

His head slowly lifted, turning towards you, eyes guarded and yet more open than you’d ever seen them. His stare was still cautious, searching your gaze for something. You couldn’t help smiling shyly at him, biting your lower lip with your own nerves. 

He straightened up, steeling his arms by his side and said, “I’ll kiss that smile right off ya face, just say when.”

There was something so vulnerable about the way he said it; with a shaky confidence–that much was obvious–his fingers constantly moving against each other, still chewing the inside of his lip but his feet were planted firmly in front of you, unwavering, even though he probably felt like running as far away from you as he could.

A crack of a twig outside caught both your attention, heads snapping towards the sound. He pulled out his knife and edged towards the opening of the tent, arm across protectively in front of you, keeping you behind him. 

You both recognised the familiar groans of the dead, Daryl’s tense posture relaxed slightly as he stepped outside and lunged forward. You followed quickly behind him, hearing his knife slam into the skull of the closest walker, you lunged at one setting sights for him before it could turn to you, driving your knife into his head and watching his body slump to the floor by your feet. 

Another turned and came for you. Kicking it in the chest, watching it stumble back slamming into the ground before you were on top of it and slamming your knife into his forehead. 

The stench perspiring from them was putrid, a smell that has by now been ingrained in your memory. You blew a big breath out as an attempt to rid your nostrils of it as you stood up heading back towards Daryl who cleared the last two walkers.

He stood with his back to you, surveying the woods, listening in the darkness, the way he held his knife, ready for anything. You watched him and when you were sure there were no more walkers nearby, here he was, clothes covered in walker blood, hair stuck to his face and yet, never looked more perfect. 

You couldn't help the smile that stretched your mouth.

He turned to you and frowned when he saw your face, "yer ok?" 

"When." You replied. 

He frowned for a moment before realising exactly what you meant and what you wanted, he couldn’t look away from you as he took tentative steps in your direction. 

He sheathed his knife and you did the same, when he stopped in front of you, looking down, he hesitantly asked, "Yer sure?”

"When." You enunciated the word slowly, making the corner of his mouth pull up in a one sided smile. He raised a shaky hand to your face, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears and you instinctively leant into the warmth of his touch as he brought both hands up to cup your face.

Your heart hammered wildly in your chest, forgetting everything, your fear, the walkers, the prison, everything. 

You'd never been this close to him before and you couldn't tear your gaze away from his piercing blue eyes, so scared and unsure, completely opposite to the tough exterior he portrays.

His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he slowly leaned in and met your mouth with his. 

A timid and gentle kiss that you soon melted into. 

Your legs felt weak beneath you, feeling as if you were floating away from this god forsaken world with nothing but him. 

Your hands found solace in his hair, grounding you, using it to pull him closer and deepen the kiss. 

His confidence grew then, exploring your mouth with his, an arm snaking around your waist and bringing you closer, body moulded to his.

You had no idea how long you stayed that way, tender caresses between you, but you knew it wasn't long enough. But you were both sucking in much needed air and grinning somewhat awkwardly at each other.

"So…" you started now your breathing had slowed to a normal pace. "What now?"

"We'll get some rest tonight and as soon as the sun comes up we'll head back with the supplies." He replied quietly.

You couldn't help the amused huff of breath that escaped you. Good to know his confession hadn’t made him any less infuriating.

"Wha?" He questioned, his cheeks darkening in the firelight.

"I meant, what now…for us?"

His eyes darted from you to the fire and back again, suddenly seeming so unsure, "what do you want?"

"I want you." You expressed bluntly. "No more games, no more pretending not to like each other. You and me."

His mouth twitched into a smile as he nodded and closed the small amount of distance between you, running his thumb over your bottom lip and lifting your face up to his with his knuckle under your chin.

"Then I'm yours."

[ghostking4m]

TORNADO WARNINGS

Joe Burrow x male reader

Summary: Y/n reflects on his relationship with Joe in therapy. What his therapist doesn’t know won’t kill him.

——————————————————————————

“So tell me your favorite memory with Joe.”

Y/n didn’t know why he was wasting his time in therapy if he’s just going to be asked questions like this. It’s like he was being asked what his favorite childhood vacation destination was and it makes him feel like a little boy being mentally evaluated.

“I don’t know. I mean- there was this one time when I went to his game against the Kansas City Chiefs and we got this tornado warning. We were just sitting on the swings at this park and it was already cold and windy. The alarm started going off and the look on his face was like he was a character straight out of a horror movie.” Y/n said with a tiny smile and turned to his right to look out the window. “Neither of us had ever seen a real tornado, maybe in the Wizard of Oz, but never in person. Sure, we were both scared, but seeing his eyes wide with pure fear and his knuckles white as snow when he was gripping the chain on the swing was the most hilarious thing I had ever seen. He tried to convince me that we need to go and seek shelter, but I just sat there in the swing laughing. Eventually he sat down in the swings with me and just laughed with me. We even saw the tornado in the distance, but we didn’t move a muscle and we were luckily still safe. Well, no, that was kind of a lie. We did move, but it was only so we could play on the seesaw, then we just laid in the bark together. His arms were wrapped around my waist and I felt so safe. We were so close, not only in proximity, but also on an emotional level. We had feelings for each other, but we both refused to admit it. We were like teenagers playing 7 minutes in heaven, in the sense that we were like kids teetering with our feelings in the dark, both too afraid to make a move.”

Y/n felt a twinge of sadness deep in his heart when he thought of the memories. Remembering what it was like to face danger in the face with Joe hurt him a little more than he would like to admit.

“From what i’m understanding, the two of you stayed at the park in the middle of a tornado and risked facing the tornadoes wrath, just because you thought it was funny?” Y/n therapist asked him. It’s like he couldn’t believe that two people could be so in love that they just wanted to stay there and live in the moment, even if it meant being in the wake of a natural disaster.

“Well, when you put it like that, yeah, I guess we do sound a bit crazy.” Y/n chuckled in response.

“Like, don’t get me wrong, it was totally crazy to just sit there when we saw the tornado destroying everything in its path, but somehow it all felt like everything would be okay.”

“Why?” Dr. Wallard questioned Y/n.

“Because I was with him. I knew we would be okay as long as we were together.”

————————————————————————

“CINCINNATI, YOU GUYS HAVE BEEN SO AMAZING TONIGHT!”

Y/n felt a jolt of electricity while he was onstage. Performing in Paycor stadium was something different for him to get used to, but he felt so comfortable in Paycor, considering how many games he had been here to watch, despite being a California native.

“So, you guys know I’ve been doing this thing at the end of every show where I play a surprise song. We have 1 song left, so what do you guys think the song is going to be?”

Y/n didn’t want the night to end, so he was more than happy to keep the crowd engaged. He heard people yelling all around him in the stadium. He heard Vicious, Sue Me, Because I Liked A Boy, Decode, but he had something else in mind.

“Jokes on all of you, because i’m doing a song that no one has ever heard, not even my team. I just finished the final master last night and I’m so excited for you guys to hear this song. Only three people in the world will know what this song is about, myself, the person I wrote it about, and my therapist.” Y/n joked as he was introducing the song. The entire stadium howled with laughter and cheers after he said that.

“This song is called Tornado Warnings”

————————————————————————

“You always blow me away with your performances.”

Y/n knew that voice in the dark, if he were blind, even if he had his ears covered. Just the sound made his heart pick up to an inhuman speed.

“You just want to see me on my knees in front of you, Burrow” Y/n made a teasing joke in response.

“Well, I would never turn that down, but I mean it, you’ve always been such a captivating and talented performer. It was fun to come to your show today.” Joe pleaded. Y/n turned around and his breath dropped the second he saw those eyes, cool as ice. It never ceased to amaze him how much of an effect Joe’s eyes had on him.

“Thank you. That means a lot. Did you have a favorite song or part of the show?” Y/n asked him, trying to be as casual as he could.

“There was one song I heard tonight that I couldn’t get out of my head. It was something along the lines of you lying to your therapist. That seems like it’s the opposite of helpful, don’t you think?” Joe spoke, poking fun at Y/n.

“Yeah, but it was only ever for the lyrics. It fit the melody and theme of the song. I’ve been entering more of my popstar era than my songwriter era and now i’m just singing what fits the melody than making sure my lyrics are true to me.” Y/n said sarcastically. Joe could always see right through him.

“Right, because you’re a popstar, not a singer-songwriter who the internet claims is the son of Taylor Swift.” Joe said laughing. “Anyway, I really liked that song. I really liked being called a son of a bitch.”

Y/n laughed and it felt so natural to be with Joe like this. Oh god, Dr. Wallard would be so disappointed in Y/n right now if he knew about this.

“No, that one was actually just a line that worked for the melody. I don’t think you’re a son of a bitch. Your mom is an angel.” Y/n said with a smile on his face. He slow started inching his way towards Joe and wrapped his arms around his waist, looking up at him.

“I’ll tell her you said that” Joe chuckled back. He wrapped his arms around Y/n and leaned down to kiss him. No matter what happened, no matter how hard either of them tried, they just couldn’t stay aware from each other. There was something magnetic, something out of this world about their relationship. Joe didn’t want to be with anyone else, even if they were officially in a relationship. “You know, sometimes I can’t tell if we’re in a relationship, just hookup up, friends with benefits, or if you just like kissing me.”

“Oh please! Don’t flatter yourself, Burrow. You look like the green giant from that vegetable company.” Y/n retorted. “If anything, YOU just like kissing me.”

“Cant argue with you there.”

————————————————————————

Y/n thought about Joe all the freaking time. In the shower, driving to the grocery store, on stage performing, but his thoughts about Joe just hit a little differently when he was in his therapy sessions.

“If Joe were to tell you, right now, that he wants to get back together with you, would you do it? Would you reignite that spark that started your relationship in the first place?” Dr. Wallard asked Y/n.

“Oh fuck that! No. Absolutely not. I’m over that son of a bitch. I’m at a point in my life where I almost want to put all of that behind me and pretend like it never existed. I’m just gonna start telling everyone that we never dated, we never saw each other in the first place, we never kissed.” Y/n lied with no hesitation and absolutely no conviction.

Maybe some part of him thought that if he could convince Dr. Wallard that if he couldn’t see the lie that it doesn’t exist. Deep down, he knew that he wasn’t as mysterious as he thought and he’s not as good of a liar as he thinks he is. Dr. Wallard has GOT to be catching on as much as Y/n denies anything ever happened with Joe.

“You wouldn’t go back to the person that you described as the most epic love of your life? You’ve once told me that you think he’s the only person you could ever be with. You had plans or dreams to marry him. Do you still get those dreams sometimes?” Dr. Wallard investigated further.

“No. No. No. In fact, I actually met someone else. There’s a man i’ve been seeing who looks like Joe in a way, maybe it’s the eyes, but character wise, he’s nothing like Joe. He’s so much better than Joe. He’s like he was a predestined thought in Santa’s mind before he was even born and has been on the nice list from birth. He’s the upgraded version of Joe.”

“Does this man have a name?”

“I’d rather not say that right now. I don’t want to jinx anything, you know?”

“Ok. That’s a valid argument. Does this man have any green flags that Joe didn’t?”

“This man is nothing but green flags. Joe was like a walking red flag, or like a walking, talking, breathing natural disaster warning.” Y/n argued.

Y/b had to think a little more about his next response. He thought of Joe and his sweet kisses.

“Joe was a walking tornado warning.”

[yundeongie]

die for you - p.sh

paring; park seonghwa x fem reader

word count; 2.2k

synopsis; seonghwa would do anything for you and so would you, if not even more.

genre; mafia!au, angst, the tiniest amount of fluff

warnings; depictions of violence, guns, major injuries

note; hi! so this is my first time posting on tumblr and hopefully i can post more if you guys liked and enjoyed this one-shot! i was very inspired to finish this when i was listening to the weeknd albums and especially the die for you remix, if you couldn’t tell :) i originally wanted to post this story in time for seonghwa’s birthday but tumblr was kinda acting up on me, especially cause of the whole new user thing (i wasn’t seeing it in the tags so i kinda panicked). praying it shows up!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

“Don’t you ever get scared being with me?”

You chuckled softly, turning away from the book you read to face the man you love, “Who says that I don’t?” You close the book and walk towards Seonghwa, sitting on his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. “But that doesn’t take away the fact that I love you.”

Seonghwa had never felt contempt in life before. Growing up, he was born into the mafia life and his father always made sure to let him know that he’ll be taking over his empire if anything was to happen to him and that’s exactly what happened. Being sixteen at the time and personally seeing his own father get assassinated by rivals was not something he had wished to see. Seonghwa had always loathed his father for being a part of the mafia and for forcing him to take part in those activities.

He was always told to never trust anyone, which is why he is the way that he is today. Cold, calculating, ruthless, heartless, basically all the words you could associate with a person like him. 

Until he met you. 

It’s cliche, but you were the exact opposite of him. Caring and affectionate. Whenever you could you would volunteer at different animal shelters and orphanages, you worked at a private nursing home. You were basically heaven and Seonghwa was hell.

One night after a long shift you were walking home when you heard some noises in the alleyway. Normally people would run away but you had too nice of a conscience to just ignore it and that’s when you found Seonghwa, laying almost half dead in his own pool of blood. And ever since then, Seonghwa swore his life to make you his and to protect you no matter what.

You weren’t stupid either, you knew what Seonghwa did but you love the man. You knew the dangers that came with being his lover, but the moment you entered his life you knew there was no way out other than death.

“What are you thinking about?” You lightly tap his nose, face scrunching up in the process. Seonghwa lets out a sigh whilst shaking his head and smiling, “Nothing much, but my thoughts are always filled with you.”

“Stop! That’s so cringy.” You giggled, covering your mouth.

“Well, it’s not cringe if it's fact, sweetheart.” Seonghwa pulls you closer to him and plants a gentle kiss on your cheek, as he pulls away you both make eye contact and Seonghwa’s eyes are warm as he looks at you with endearment, “I’m so glad I met you.”

"I do too." You softly smile, tapping his shoulder whilst getting up, “Do you want something to drink? I’ll make you some tea hmm?”

“That’ll be nice, thank you.”

As you head away, Seonghwa refocuses his attention on the stacks of papers and folders on his desk. Lately, the organisation has been seeing some fluctuation in sales and finances, nothing could explain this except for a mole within the organisation. Seonghwa was frustrated to the point where he threw some of the papers on the ground. His head was resting on top of his hands until someone busted through the door. 

“Seonghwa, I believe we have the break we were looking for.” Hongjoong, his best friend and right-hand man spoke. 

“Continue.”

“We looked into some files and asked around. Turns out that Dongmin has been keeping in touch with the rival organisation by leaking our information to them, allowing them to intercept with our dealings and sales.”

Seonghwa stood up, hands on his hips whilst pacing around, “Dongmin? As in Son Dongmin?”

Hongjoong nods, “I got intel that he may be planning something against you with the rival gang's support. Most likely with dethroning you.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widen, if someone was going to plan an attack on him the first thing that comes to his mind was to keep you safe and now that he knew someone was out there actively trying to harm him, he knew that he had to be next to you at all times. But before Seonghwa could even step foot outside the bedroom, all the alarms in and out of the mansion started ringing. 

Without a second thought, Seonghwa sprinted downstairs and towards the kitchen. He can see you crouched behind the kitchen counters whilst the bodyguards surround you. Gunfire was everywhere and Seonghwa, along with Hongjoong tried to find an opening so that they could get to you.

One second of silence was enough for them to move, holding their guns and shooting towards the front door even if there wasn’t anyone there. The moment Seonghwa made it to you, you immediately hugged him, as scared as you were, you’re just glad to know that he was safe and void of any bullet holes. Seonghwa did the same, quickly checking to see if you got any scratches. Whilst holding your hand, Seonghwa quickly ran towards the back of the house. Hongjoong closely followed behind, making sure to keep you both safe whilst calling for backup. 

You saw a lot of bloodshed within just a few minutes, many of the people who Seonghwa put around you to protect you were gone, never to see the daylight again. You held onto Seonghwa’s hand tighter and he did the same.

You both made it towards the backyard which was abnormally quiet, both Seonghwa and Hongjoong were on edge, cautious of their every move. There was no one guarding the back which was odd as he has guards securing every inch of the mansion. You huddled closer to Seonghwa and he made sure to put you behind him. 

Then suddenly a bright light shines in front of you all, blinding you for a second and then a voice speaks. 

“Well, well. If it isn’t the great Park Seonghwa and his little entourage. Whoops...seems like you don’t really have much to protect you.”

All Seonghwa does is glare at the traitor, Son Dongmin. Hongjoong doesn’t stop pointing his gun towards him, even if the odds are against them as Dongmin has a few people surrounding them. 

“Why?”

Dongmin scoffs, “You’re seriously asking me why? If it wasn’t for your stinking rat of a father, I wouldn't be like this!”

“My father?” Seonghwa confusingly asks.

“My father was the one in charge, your father? He was only a follower! He killed my father and overtook the organisation so now, I’m here to get back what’s mine!” Dongmin yells in frustration.

“Whatever it is, leave y/n out of this. She has nothing to do with this.” Seonghwa responds as he protectively covers you.

Dongmin smirks and tilts his head to get a better look at you, you immediately hide behind Seonghwa more, securing your hold on his clothing. “Well, maybe I should just kill you and your little followers too and just keep y/n all to myself huh?” 

“Don’t you fucking dare touch her.” Seonghwa lowly threatened. 

“Or you know what? I can let you live, if you give y/n to me, how about that? I wouldn’t even try taking over you if you did.” He smirks.

Your eyes widen and Seonghwa’s grip on you tightens even more, “In your fucking dreams.”

Dongmin rolls his eyes and begins playing with his gun, pacing back and forth before he suddenly stops, “Well then, I guess there's just no way around this then.” Then he slowly aims the gun towards Seonghwa. 

“Wait!”

You suddenly shout and now all the attention is on you, with Seonghwa’s eyes widened in shock and filled with worry. You slowly let go of Seonghwa’s hand even if he had zero intentions of doing so and made your way beside him. You look at him, his eyes pleading with you to not do what he thinks you're about to do before you turn your attention towards Dongmin. “If I exchange myself, will you definitely let Seonghwa and his men live?”

Quickly, Seonghwa grabs your arm and harshly whispers to you, “Are you crazy y/n!? I could never let you do that!”

You look back at Seonghwa, begging him to agree with your offer, “Please! I don’t want to see you die, Seonghwa!” 

“I’d rather be dead than let him take you hostage, you know I’d die for you if it means you can live!”

“But-”

Multiple gunshots were fired up in the air making you flinch and silent. “Boy oh boy, you seem to really want to die huh?” Dongmin says as he slowly walks forward a bit, “Maybe I should grant your wish then.” 

Quickly, he aims his gun straight towards Seonghwa and your eyes widen in shock as you look back and forth from your lover to the gun.

“No!”

Bang. 

As you open your eyes, you’re met face to face with Seonghwa and all he can do is look back at you in a daze, his brain barely comprehending what had happen before you gradually fall down but before you hit the ground Seonghwa catches your fall.

You start to feel numb and breathing no longer starts to feel comfortable. Seonghwa caresses your cheek only to panic after seeing the amount of blood on his hand and your face, he quickly tries pressing the bullet wound down from your back to try and stop the bleeding. You tried speaking but Seonghwa cuts you off, “Don’t say anything please, please. Nothing will happen to you sweetheart okay? You’ll be fine.” His voice trembles, he doesn't even know if he’s comforting you or himself. Never in his life has he feared anything more than the thought of losing you. 

Seonghwa didn’t care about what was happening in the background, all he could hear was countless amounts of gunfire going off and that most of Dongmin’s men were lying dead on the ground and that Dongmin himself was writhing in pain from an inflicted gun wound.

“I got the guys to help us but we have to keep moving Seonghwa, Yeosang is heading to the surgery room now!” Hongjoong shouted, ushering Seonghwa to bring you to safety. 

Not wasting any more time, Seonghwa carries you bridal style to run as fast as he can towards the emergency surgery room he has in his underground base. 

Your eyes are barely open but you can make out Seonghwa clearly, “You…you know that I love you right?”

Seonghwa looks down at you, tears already falling down his cheeks and yet even now you don’t seem to be scared by putting a soft-hearted smile on your face to seemingly comfort him in a way. “I know you do and so do I. I want you to remember that okay? Just hold on a little longer, we're almost there.” Seonghwa tries to reciprocate the genuine smile you have but all it does is leave him looking bittersweet. You nod slightly after mustering the energy you can before you black out.

Seonghwa ran even faster and soon made it to the surgery room, quickly placing your body down on the operating table, “Hyung, I know you want to stay but please just wait outside while I operate. Please.” Yeosang ushered. Seonghwa held onto your hand tightly but with Hongjoong dragging him out, he had no choice but to let go. 

Outside of the operating theatre Seonghwa sat down on one of the seats and looked at his clothes and hands, all of which were stained by your blood. He sat there not moving an inch for hours on end, not even bothering to change out of his stained clothes even if they had started to dry. All he wanted was for you to come out alive. Seonghwa was never the type of person to believe in God, but he was praying for the first time in his life. 

“God, if you're out there please make sure y/n will make it through this. Even if it means exchanging my life for hers, I’d do anything. Please.” He muttered under his breath, hands clasped together and eyes closed. 

Several more hours pass and Seonghwa became more restless and then suddenly Yeosang walks out of the operating room. Seonghwa immediately rushes towards Yeosang, “She’s fine now but if you were any later, I don’t know if she could have survived. She lost a lot of blood.”

Seonghwa let out a sigh of relief and hugged Yeosang, “Thank you, thank you.”

“Yunho’s inside cleaning up but if you want, you can go inside and see her. I know you want to.” Yeosang gives Seonghwa a pat on his shoulder and walks off with Hongjoong trailing behind him, knowing that Seonghwa would want to spend every single minute he can with you now. Without hesitation, Seonghwa makes his way towards you.

As he looks at you he starts to get emotional as he caresses your cheek, a tear falling down and landing on your face. 

“I love you and I'm sorry.” Seonghwa places a kiss on your forehead, glad to know that you’ll be able to wake up soon but guilty that he couldn't protect you like he promised, making you suffer. 

After Yunho took you to the recovery room, Seonghwa knew what he had to do. To kill that bastard once and for all because no one messes with Park Seonghwa and his most precious treasure in the whole world. You.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

[writerpey]

Omg wait, you have so many fandoms I love, ok, ok could you make like a list of characters from theses shows and what they’d be? Like regressed, caregiver, ect? (So I can send asks based on that) I’m so excited right now

Arcane, Detroit Become Human, Last airbender, Our flag means death, and Six of crows/shadow and bone

happy 2024! this has been in my inbox forever but looks super fun to do! here’s my take on what characters would be regressors/caregivers for arcane, dbh and atla. I totally wrote way more than I expected to but here u are! <3 I’ll do a separate post for ofmd and soc bc they have so many characters I have opinions on.

Agere Character Headcanons

(Arcane, D:BH, ATLA)

(jinx is me cooking up this thread)

Arcane

Vi: As much as she’d be a wonderful caregiver, she’s absolutely a regressor. Being small reminds her of days spent with her parents and Powder, family trips to the fish markets of the coast and sunny days building sand castles at the beach. She tends to be on the older side, a natural tendency from a life spent as the older sibling, taking care of Powder. Vi’s a very active and vivacious little, playing outdoors and hanging off Caitlyn’s shoulders. Loves physical touch, hugs and high fives are the way to go.

Caitlyn: Caregiver all the way! I think she loves kids in general, and despite her awkward nature and sheltered upbringing, she finds it easy to take charge and step into the role of a protector. Definitely looks after Vi and is oftentimes too concerned about her safety. She loves taking the little out to the playground and to eat at Jericho’s food stall (even if she still refuses to eat a bowl of slop herself).

Jinx: Tiniest, cutest, moodiest little troublemaker there is. Jinx regresses to about four or five years old, and absolutely bounces off the walls at all hours of the day. She’s not the quiet, sweet child she once was as Powder, but rather gets herself into trouble and feigns innocence. She loves to annoy both Silco and Sevika, clambering on the latter’s lap and hiding under Silco’s desk for games of hide and seek. Her mood changes rather drastically as well, as she can go from completely happy to hyperventilating sobbing from anything as simple as scraping a knee to refusing bedtime.

Jayce: He’s a very attentive and high strung caregiver. Looking after Viktor is much easier than Caitlyn, Silco, or Sevika’s jobs, but Jayce always fusses over the little. He’s quick to scoop him up whenever it’s deemed necessary, and goes to Mel for help when he needs another pair of hands. Jayce loves caregiving because it gives him something to focus on other than his responsibility to Piltover, and enjoys simple play with his little like story time and building blocks.

Viktor: Super small and quiet regressor! Viktor can get very young, and has no qualms with depending on Jayce for help when he’s little. He likes to be snuggled up on a couch in a mound of blankets and is also content to sit and watch Mel paint the ships that go by the balcony of her apartment. Viktor is sweet and shy and doesn’t tend to verbalize his needs, but because Jayce is so attentive they mesh well together.

Detroit: Become Human

Kara: Caregiver. Need I expand? It’s in her coding in the first place to protect and nurture. Upon her deviance, Kara realizes that even if she was made for it, she can still reclaim that part of herself for herself. She is quick to console whomever her little may be, and projects the kindest and warmest energy to the person she’s taking care of. Kara enjoys making up her own stories, and loves playing make believe with her regressor.

Connor: One hundred percent a regressor. This little guy was shy and uncertain when he first started regressing, as he didn’t know what ‘normal’ behaviour from a deviant was, let alone how to process all the new emotions he was feeling. Connor loves to spend time at Hank’s house with Sumo, revelling in the feeling of the dog’s fluffy fur and laughing happily when he teaches Sumo all sorts of tricks. Connor is usually happy when regressed, but struggles with anxiety and asking for help. Hank is always there to walk Connor through his big feelings and encourages him to use his words.

Markus: He’s one of the most chaotic caregivers there is. You picked the pacifist route in the game? Doesn’t matter. This guy is unhinged when it comes to caregiving. Spoiling his little at any time possible, letting them stay up hours past their bedtime, giving them candy for breakfast and encouraging colouring on the walls. He spent so many years being exactly who Carl wanted him to be while also tasting freedom through Carl’s art that it brings him so much joy to see a regressor’s eyes sparkle when he says yes to whatever their heart desires. He’s also amazing at comforting a regressor. Big hugs and gentle eyes!

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Katara: Is a caregiver! Incredibly kind yet less patient than one (Sokka) might hope. Katara is quick to caution her little, always on the lookout for anything that they might hurt themselves with or on. But this doesn’t mean she hates fun! She adores the beach and using her bending to splash around, and is always ready to get her little an extra blanket or any snacks they ask for. She’s super sweet and falls into the role of a caregiver like she was made for it. Katara has even sewed a plushie or two as gifts, and has a knack for settling a regressor in front of a crackling fire and braiding their hair before bedtime.

Sokka: Regressor for sure. Even though he’s a big brother he never let go of his goofy side, and it plays into so much of his behaviour when he’s regressed. He’s on the older side, around 6-8, and has so much energy he doesn’t know where to put it all. Queue him running around for hours, laughing at absolutely anything that Aang says and bothering Toph just so she’ll play with him. Sokka doesn’t cry, even when he takes a tumble (which is quite often) but is fussy when he doesn’t get his way. He’s a troublemaker, but his beaming smile lets him get away with plenty.

Aang: Honestly I think he’s a caregiver, but is more like a fun uncle than any other label. His sage airbender wisdom doesn’t come through often, which means he’s all about fun all the time. His childish side matches a little like Sokka’s constant energy, and he seems to vanish into a cloud of smoke when any tears come his way. And how did Sokka and Zuko get chocolate all around their mouths, you ask? Well, there’s no one to ask because Aang’s just taken off on his glider on some very important business.

Zuko: LITTLE! REGRESSOR! TINY! Oh my goodness, he’s the first fictional character that I ever headcanoned as a regressor. There’s no need to delve into his trauma here, but the boy is in such a desperate need of healing his childhood that he regressed long before he even knew what it was. Regresses very young, between 2-5. Before meeting the Gaang he’d hang off of Uncle’s shoulder during Pai Sho tournaments on his ship and would shyly ask the crew members to play songs during music nights. His tough demeanour disappears completely when he’s regressed and he turns into a shy boy that is insistent on doing things himself and is quick to cry when he’s unable to, for example, wrap his robes the way he wants. Zuko has a turtleduck plushie that Katara sewed for him after Aang asked him what his favourite animal was and Sokka caught him cuddling up to Appa at night. Sweetest boy in the whole world.

Toph : Caregiver! Matches more with Aang’s style of caregiving than Katara’s, but still lands somewhere in the middle. Her earthbending gives her the ability to pick up on every tiny emotion that a regressor feels, and it means she’s prepared and in tune with every need, happy or unhappy, that someone needs. She tends to playfully tease Zuko and Sokka, but knows exactly where to draw the line with either boy based on the rhythm of their heart. Toph helps Aang when it comes to letting the boys do something Katara has specifically told them they’re not allowed to, and will always feign innocence when confronted by the eldest caregiver.

[apollosrambling]

Cold rain, warm comfort.

@real-levyanno Asked: Heyyo so I was reading a few of your posts and I am in awe of them. I was wondering, when and if you had the time, if you could do Slytherin-depressed-former prefect Reader x Twins? Maybe Pansy finds out Reader isnt a pureblood like everyone thought and so they all turn on him. He becomes depressed and his prefect badge given to Draco. No one seems to notice how affected he is until the twins find him trying to drown in the black lake and that's when they decide to help/confess their feelings?

It’s truly a mystery how long this has been sitting in my inbox. Sorry I made you wait 🤍🖤 also sorry it’s more of a warm up, I haven’t written anything other than AP style in years.

It’s been noticeable, the shift in your mood. The way you haven’t gotten up early to make sure the first years are awake and heading to breakfast, once of your favorite morning rituals. The way your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, or the way you brush off compliments like they’re meant to be deflected.

It’s impossible to know when it started, but the catalyst was that night in the common room, surrounded by your fellow Slytherin’s as the highlands rain beat on the windows.

“You’re a mudblood, aren’t you?” Pansy Parkinson had looked so proud of herself. The quiet laughter and chatter of your peers dying out.

Rather than answer, you stood and left. Only the cloak of night sheltered you, but it was two boys with red hair and blinding smiles who found you perched on the high docks of the lake. Teetering on the edge as you contemplate letting the wind push you into the black glass below.

You’re close to falling when a warm hand grabs yours, nearly searing after the cold that’s settled into your bones.

“What are you doing?” Fred Weasley is holding on to you like if he lets go, you’ll disappear. Maybe you would.

George, who was holding a warm blanket, slides to your side. Before you can protest, you’re bundled and sat. All three of your legs dangling over the docks edge, far enough away to not worry about wet toes.

“Looks to me like our favorite person was about to become an icicle,” George answers. It’s been so long since anyone spoke that you forgot Fred had asked a question.

“Yeah, maybe. Or perhaps he was trying to become one with the merfolk.”

“Stop talking about me like I’m not here.” Your voice isn’t as strong as you’d have prefer it been. The halfhearted kick at George’s feet does nothing other than cause the twins’ eyebrows to raise.

“We’ve noticed you’ve been a bit…” Fred trails off, as if he’s unsure the right way to deliver the blow.

“Sad? Quiet? Melodramatic and rather a downer?”

“That’s not helping, George.”

“Sorry, Fred.”

You watch them poke at each other. Reaching across you and shoving at each other as if their lives aren’t in danger. You worry they’ll accidentally knock each other off.

The absence of your head boy pin feels suffocating. You reach up to the empty space on your sweater, as if expecting it to come back. It won’t, though. It was now resting in Draco Malfoy’s hands, cold and stunned when you had wrenched it from your body and dropped it.

“I quit being head Boy”

The brothers freeze, looking at you with an uncharacteristically serious expression. George leans his body against yours.

“Why’d you go and do that?”

“Parkinson called me a mudblood. She’s right, I don’t even belong in Slytherin.”

The look on George’s face is downright foul. “That’s the biggest load of rubbish I’ve ever heard. You’re one of the most ambitious, determined people I know.”

“Yeah,” Fred weighed in, letting go of your hand to gesture into the air. “Everyone knows you’re the best Head Boy in the school. The first years love you.”

“They did,” you laugh a humorless thing, “they wont anymore. There’s not much to love.”

Now the twins look truly offended.

George doesn’t answer, he just takes your recently freed hands. Pulls your fingers from where they had been picking at your nails, and gently kisses your finger pads.

Fred runs a hand through your hair, fingers brushing along your jawline and the touch of stubble that threatens to poke through.

Having their hands on you is nice. It’s grounding, warm and pleasant in the cold air.

“There’s plenty of you to love.” Fred’s voice is quiet, almost a whisper.

“Some ancient opinion from old, dead wizards means nothing to us. You, though.” George leans close, his hair nearly tickling you. “You mean a whole lot.”

You hope the flush on your cheeks can be excused to the rain that’s slowed to a drizzle, but you know it won’t be.

“You’re just saying that-”

“No,” George is still holding your hand, still caressing your finger tips. “You’re incredible.”

“So kind,”

“And funny.”

“Yeah, Fred and I think you’re going to change the world.”

“Or rule it,” Fred jokes, before his face tightens.

“I’m sorry we didn’t say it sooner.”

“Say what?” You ask, leaning back a bit as the cool wind nips your face and their heat keeps you from freezing.

“That you’re damn near the most perfect person out there.” George’s words are soft but his lips are softer. It’s surprising, in a way. You half expected them to be chapped.

When George pulls away Fred takes your jaw, gently redirecting you to him.

“You’re wonderful.”

[confused-wanderer]

Okay so I LOVE modern family right? As much as- fuck that - MORE than the next person, literally rewatching it to the point of memorisation.

So yeah, I love that show but a few details didn’t really sit well with me as the seasons progressed. None of this is said with hate, so please don’t come for me.

LUKE.

He was an adorable inquisitive child always searching for out of the box ways of exploration. Sure he was kinda shown as dumb as a child but that could be attributed to his childish innocence or just asking “why not?” . But as he grew into an adult, I really wish we got to see his character progress. I want to see Luke who sure likes girls but isn’t OBSESSED with him. Let him grow out of his teenage phase. I want him being as dorky as Phil with weird extravagant but incredibly sweet ways of talking to his crushes, I want to see Luke who sure may not have done the best at school but had different strengths too and was deducted points due to his out of the box thinking and forgetting to abide by the rules. A Luke that becomes the idea guy at a good company or entrepreneur. Luke who is surprisingly very emotionally perceptive. Luke who stands up for Haley when the adults overshadow her with Alex. Luke who protects Alex from the constant stress of being lonely and feeling like no one understands her. Give me Luke and Manny shenanigans that are reminiscent of “put two brain cells in a room and suddenly they’re stupid”. Luke bonding with Lily over creative inventions, Luke sharing Phil’s interest in trampolining and dancing and does it for the girl he really really likes. Luke who isn’t dumb, just not as strict and academically inclined but does well in what he sets his mind to. Luke who has Claire’s business sense and Phil’s mind for inventions. Luke who is sharp and kind, Luke who is the glue of the family. Luke who is quick to tell when someone’s being manipulative, Luke who can easily charm a guy into giving him their own wallet, Luke who is business smart and Luke who loves corny things but will defend them with all he’s got. Luke who is the go to person everyone calls when they’re lost or scared. Luke who is actually crazy rich because he invests in stock market. Luke who donates a lot of money for noble causes such as forest fires, dog shelters etc because he has a kind generous heart. Luke who doesn’t tell anyone how rich he is and continues childish shenanigans that are hilarious.

Cuz I believe Luke’s character was never meant to be portrayed as dumb, and seeing his potential keeps me wondering what more we could’ve seen him become.

[chiriwritesstuff]

I’m a big childless but with a cat person and I only have one request for the rest of TGIIT and its sequel….. can we please get a cute scene of Joel with Sir Bubbles!

I feel like he would think he’s a dog person but then he’s also the kinda guy that would try anything and everything to get the cat to like him and he would definitely have in depth conversations with Sir Bubbles. Like, just imagine Joel fixing the sink and sir bubbles is sitting next to him and he’s just explaining to the cat what he’s doing 😭😭🥺

Oh Nonnie, I could totally do that. Joel in my series does have a dog, a Shiba Inu that Ellie begged him to have after seeing him at the shelter one day (because she desperately wants to have one and also something she does on her day off!) named Paddington because he too (like Javi G) loves that movie so much!

Imagine the weekend before Sugars birthday: Ellie approaches Joel to help her make a cat tree for Sir Bubbles. They come up with a plan to take Sir Bubbles for a day for research purposes. Joel calls Sugar, lying about Ellie being sick and wanting to cuddle up to him to make her feel better.

“But if she has a cold, wouldn’t his fur make her symptoms worse?”

Joel tells her that it’s fine and that she doesn’t have allergies when it comes to cats, so Sugar relents.

“Make sure that you bring her carrier too, can’t be too careful when transporting your cat in your car, baby.”

Sugar arrives at casa miller with Sir Bubbles, carrier in tow. She asks if she could hang out but he’s being weirdly shifty.

“Ellie’s pretty bad, baby. I wouldn’t want you to get what she has, okay?”

Sugar frowns but agrees, kissing Joel before she heads back to her car. Ellie peers from the kitchen, nodding. They both take Joel’s truck to the Home Depot, Sir Bubbles in tow, looking for wood and materials, taking note of his measurements for everything to be a perfect fit.

Once back at casa Miller, Ellie takes him out of his carrier and begins to play with him. Joel frowns and tries to pet him, only for Sir Bubbles to ignore him and purr at Ellie. He runs to the store to get the best most expensive treats that he could find, placing them in a trail to lead to his workshop, only to find Ellie picking them up and feeding them to him herself.

“I don’t think he likes me very much.”

“It’s because you smell too much like Paddington!”

“You smell like Paddington and he likes you!”

“I think he likes Paddington more than he likes you!”

Joel snorts as he goes back to his workshop, working on the cat tree. Later, as he’s nailing pieces of wood together, Sir Bubbles finally makes his way to perch on his work desk. Joel raises a curious eyebrow at the cat, a small smirk at the corner of his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m making this for you, buddy. Do you think your momma is gonna like it?”

Sir Bubbles stares him down for a beat.

“This wood is $100 a piece. Surely this tempts you.”

Silence.

“And this right here?” He points to a circular spot. This is your feeding area, you know, for your food and treats and whatever you fancy.”

Sir Bubbles simply purrs, licking its paw as he continues to look at Joel with (in his cat way) a disinterested look on his face.

Joel sighs, grabbing another treat from his pocket. “What about this? It’s fresh, little kitty.”

He swears he hears Ellie snicker off in the distance.

“One of these days ima get you to fold, Bubbles. Just you wait.”

[scorpioracha]

Dating Felix

Hey guys! This one ended up being longer and a bit less lighthearted than my bang Chan one. I hope you guys still enjoy and leave a comment or reblog! I’m so grateful for the love my Bang Chan one received and my heart is full ♡

Felix 필릭스

-Felix is definitely a sweetheart in love, your situation was a love at first sight kind of thing. He’s a big believer in vibes and initial feelings so this boy trusts his gut. From the moment you first met he thought you were a person he could fall in love with, and he was right. Speaking to you was easy, hanging out was easy so falling in love with you was easy as well. He’s the type to give so much of himself and get so little in return, but meeting you changed that.

-every little piece of himself he offered to you, you matched that in earnest. He didn’t have to worry about spilling too much too soon and having that used against him—you never even gave him the chance to worry in the first place. Loving Felix was easy and being loved by him in return was nothing short of beautiful.

-the early part of your relationship was honestly just spent sitting and talking. Whatever activity you two had planned usually fell into the background in favor of deep conversations from anything about your goals, your fears, the world, etc. I can not stress how easy communication is with him. Not to say that you never bump heads, but you guys don’t argue, you talk. This relationship is definitely a safe space for differing opinions,annoyances,insecurities, etc. Because as long as you talk about it, you will be okay.

-And although you guys are chatty, Felix is our little loverboy. He is definitely going to take you on some fun dates. He is definitely going to pull out all the stops for you.

-your first official date was a picnic in a garden and he came ready to impress. Cute little wicker basket, picnic blankets, pillows, cutlery, doilies made of ribbon and lace. He wanted only the best for you. The weather was beautiful—he had double checked the night before—and you guys were there during a lull in the day so not many people out and about. You guys sat and ate and talked for hours, loud laughter turning into hushed whispers as the sky faded into sunset. He brought you home that night and kissed your forehead as a goodnight.

-Even though the communication was amazing he really didn’t know where the boundaries were physically. Usually with his bandmates he has no problem stretching himself across someone’s lap or blatantly just asking for attention, but he was still holding back around you. His hand would jerk wanting to hold yours or he’d space out in conversations thinking about how your lips felt against his.

-You were the one who initiated the first kiss. With a soft “can I?” you leaned in and you could just feel his body melting against yours like a dam bursting. You had no idea how long he’d been holding back on touching you simply because he didn’t want to ruin things. He knocked his forehead against yours in pure excitement and couldn’t keep the kiss for long since he was grinning teeth and all. Touches were still hesitant from that moment on but he was getting better at initiating.

-Felix is possessive in love—I know this sounds bad but hear me out. This man cherishes you deeply, you’re high on the list of his favorite people. He isn’t the type to shelter or be overbearing, he doesn’t even border on jealous really all that often.

-If he loves someone he is possessive over them, period point blank. This extends to family, friends, lovers, etc because if he’s going to love you he’s going to do so fully and our boy feels every emotion so deeply. He’s not going to let this suffocate you though, because first and foremost you are your own person and he respects that fully, encourages you to do things on your own and be apart from each other.

-but it is the little things when this possessiveness creeps in. You’re his baby, his darling, his love and honestly his heart flutters and his cheeks scorch when you use the same language to him. He doesn’t want it to be domineering and one way, he wants to belong to you just as much as you belong to him.

-A better way to describe this was reverence, he simply adores you.

NSFW

-I would be bold face lying if I said sex with Felix was anything short of intense. It can be daunting to have his full attention on you—this boy gets tunnel vision the minute you get naked—but fucking with Felix feels like worship. He can be overstimulating himself without even trying to be, since he’s giving you his full attention he wants yours on him in return.

-He’s big on eye contact, he wants to see you, really see you. He wants to know what makes you tick, what makes you gasp, what drives you absolutely insane. This is a test and he’s going to ace it.

-This first few times you two fuck feels like a storm. His eyes locked on yours, the room dim and nothing but the sound of your breathing and skin on skin.

-The best way to describe him would be frenzied, he wants to touch you everywhere, see everything and ends up overwhelmed rolling his hips into you with tears in his eyes. You feel so good around him and you sound so pretty that his brain kind of short circuits and the only thing he can think about is making you cum as hard as he can.

-but as well know, Felix is a man of duality. Once the newness of the relationship wears off, it leaves something softer in its place, something more comfortable.

-Felix is a giver, but he’s also a taker. His wants vary by the day or even sometimes by the hour.

-In the morning you’ll have him on his back, arms above his head begging to cum for you and by afternoon you’re being bent over the countertop, cheek pressed against the cool surface and being told to take it like a good little slut.

-He’s one our true switches with no lean. As long as you’re both feeling good, he doesn’t really care if he’s domming or subbing. It’s usually a good system for the both of you, no structured scenes and honestly just going by the vibes of the day. He does what he feels like. But sometimes you butt heads and you butt heads hard. Both of you feeling submissive is never really a problem.

-It’s when you both feel like domming. Moments like this are very much ‘may the best dom win’. This has led to many nights of mutual aftercare, cleaning scratches, applying ointment and cuddly baths together debriefing what you guys liked and what you didn’t.

-when you’re both feeling subby the room is filled with whimpers, wet kisses and soft pleas of wanting to cum and begging each other as you rut against each other’s thighs Felix is a crier and a hair puller

-Felix also gives experimentalist vibes so if something sounds interesting, he wants to try it. You two end up with a few new shared kinks and a toy chest.

-Yes this boy definitely takes the strap, he’s as self involved in his pleasure as he is yours. He’s not going to miss the opportunity to get railed over a little toxic masculinity. And if you don’t top, that’s fine. He’ll fuck himself on a dildo and make you watch him thighs quivering and all.

-Sex with Felix doesn’t always have to be penetrative. He doesn’t mind sitting between your legs cooing as he wrings orgasm after orgasm from you with a wand.

[andiwriteordie]

omg??? congrats!! so well deserved <3

hmm. what abt wheelclair friendship where Mike has his “oh” moment while Lucas is talking abt how he feels abt Max? maybe they have a chat abt it? I j love them <3 ;__;

ahh!! hi, thank you so so much!

i got carried away with this one, WOOPSIE. can you tell i love wheelclair friendship? like HELLO I LOVE THEM.

hope you enjoy! (also. highly recommend listening to this song it is very byler coded!)

—

wherever i'm going, i'm going with you

Today’s Mike’s day to sit at the hospital with Lucas and Max.

It’s been nearly six months now that Max has been in a coma—nearly six months since Vecna nearly killed her and ripped open the gates in Hawkins. Nearly six months since the Upside Down first began bleeding into Hawkins and nearly six months Will’s nightmares, caused by his growing connection to Vecna, first began. 

It’s been nearly six months, there’s no end in sight, and Mike feels completely useless.

Seriously. There’s nothing that he can do right now—nothing that any of them can do but sit and wait until Vecna strikes. The only good thing about Will’s connection to this asshole is the fact that they can somewhat monitor him as well and at least get a basic understanding of what Vecna’s state is. He’s still injured, according to Will. He’s not in any condition to strike and to come after them again.

So, now… all they can do is wait.

Talk about the world’s slowest apocalypse. 

In the meantime, Mike tries to keep himself busy. Things… don’t really go back to normal, but he tries to find normalcy in any way that he can. He goes to the makeshift shelters often and volunteers with Dustin, Steve, Robin, and Robin’s friend, Vicki. Will tags along sometimes, but a lot of days, he’s exhausted from being unable to sleep well at night, so Joyce makes him stay at home more often than not.

(Will hates it, but he doesn’t ever say anything to Joyce about it. Instead, he rants to Mike about it on the nights when neither of them can sleep—sharing his thoughts about how this type of thing makes him feel so pathetic and like his life will never be normal. Like… like he’ll always be different because of what has happened to him.

His words feel hauntingly familiar, and some night, after Will does manage to fall asleep, Mike finds himself staring up at the painting that had been gifted to him just six months ago.

He doesn’t dare fall down that rabbit hole though, lest… lest he find himself with many, many questions he doesn’t wanna deal with.)

On top of going to the shelter, the Party also takes turns sitting with Lucas and Max at the hospital. They have a schedule planned out, and between the four of them plus Steve and Erica, they always try to make sure Lucas isn’t alone at the hospital. 

He shouldn’t be alone. He shouldn’t. 

And so, that’s exactly why Mike finds himself sitting in the chair opposite from Lucas and listening to him read the newest novel he’d chosen to read to their comatose friend. He’s reading The Two Towers—one of Mike’s personal favorites, actually.

“'Master, dear master!' said Sam, and through a long silence waited, listening in vain,” Lucas reads, and Mike looks up, a pit growing in his stomach.

He knows this scene. Oh God… Mike knows this scene, and judging by the way Lucas’s hands are clenched tightly around his books, he knows it too.

“Then as quickly as he could he cut away the binding cords and laid his head upon Frodo's breast and to his mouth, but no stir of life could he find, nor feel the faintest flutter of the heart,” Lucas reads, his voice getting quieter as he continues the paragraph. “Often he chafed his master's hands and feet, and touched his brow, but all were cold.”

“Lucas,” Mike starts to say, his own voice soft, but his words are lost to the sound of Lucas continuing the passage of the book.

“'Frodo, Mr. Frodo!' he called. 'Don't leave me here alone! It's your Sam calling. Don't go where I can't follow! Wake up, Mr. Frodo! O wake up, Frodo, me dear, me dear. Wake up!’” Lucas reads, and his voice breaks.

The room goes impossibly quiet, and Mike holds his breath, watching his best friend carefully.

He… he doesn’t have the right words to say. It feels like a common problem nowadays. Back when he was younger, Mike always felt like he knew what to say to make his friends feel better. He’s a writer, a storyteller for God’s sake. Words are kind of his things.

But nowadays, he never seems to know what to say to help anyone.

So, Mike just swallows the lump in his throat, and he whispers, “I… I’m so sorry, Lucas.”

It’s the first time he’s said those words aloud, but God, Mike has been thinking them. He’s been thinking about them ever since he first heard about what happened to Max from Dustin. He’s been thinking about these words every single day he’s come and sat with Max and Lucas, and he’s been thinking about these words every night that Will wakes up, breathless and terrified from another nightmarish encounter with the monster tormenting everyone’s lives.

"Don’t go where I can’t follow," Sam had said—desperate and pleading and terrified.

Oh, how Mike knows what that feels like.

And Lucas does too.

Lucas looks up hesitantly. There’s a watery look in his eyes, and he meets Mike’s gaze, before taking a shuddered breath. “I miss her,” he admits, his voice impossibly soft. “God, Mike… you have no idea how much I miss her.”

Though he doesn’t actually say it, Mike knows from talking with Dustin and with Will that Lucas… really hasn’t opened up to anyone. The person who has had the biggest breakthrough with him has been El, but even then, Lucas really has kept most of his pain and grief to himself. 

It feels like bitter irony, considering the fact that this is exactly how Vecna had been able to target Max.

“I know you do,” Mike whispers back. “God… I know, Lucas. And I… I’m so sorry.”

The words don’t feel nearly big enough, and that sucks. But somehow, they must help, because Lucas manages a shaky breath and wipes his arms on his sleeve. 

“I keep thinking about what I could’ve done differently that week, you know,” he confesses, looking down at Max now. “About… how maybe if I’d been just a little faster, or if I’d made one different decision… maybe I could’ve prevented this. Maybe… maybe she’d still be here.”

Mike can’t help but flinch. The lump in the back of his throat grows, and he… he can’t help but think back to his own regrets—ones he’s had all the way back since 1983. An old memory replay over and over again in Mike’s mind—haunting him and reminding him of how his own mistake could’ve prevented so much pain.

“It was a seven.”

“Huh?”

“The roll, it was a seven. The demogorgon… it got me.”

…

“Well, see you tomorrow!”

“I get that,” Mike finally manages to say, and he swallows the lump in his throat. “I… I think I get that.”

For a moment, Lucas is quiet, like he doesn’t know what to say. Then, finally, he murmurs, “Right… I… I bet you would think about that stuff a lot when El was missing that year… after the fight with the demogorgon.”

The words are a gut punch, and Mike’s breath catches.

Why…. God, why hadn’t he been thinking of El? Obviously… obviously, Mike felt guilty about that instance too, but… that hadn’t been his first thought, even though El used to be his girlfriend and everyone still expects them to get back together someday.

But the truth is… El is rarely the first person that Mike thinks about… in any circumstances nowadays.

It’s always Will.

…

Why? something in the back of Mike’s mind wonders, and he can’t help but look at Lucas and Max curiously. There’s a gentle gaze on Lucas’s face, and he reaches up, brushing some of Max’s hair from her face.

Why is it that Mike always thinks about Will? Why is it that Will takes up so much space in Mike’s mind and heart—to the point where Mike had noticed the difference in that year that the two of them barely spoke? Will’s his best friend, sure, but… but so is Lucas. And so is Dustin. But Mike doesn’t think about them this much, and… and he can’t imagine himself doing the same things for Lucas and Dustin that he would for Will.

If Will was ever in Max’s position, Mike knows he would be just like Lucas—faithfully sitting by Will’s side and waiting for him to wake up. Hell, it was only for a couple days, but Mike did that, just a couple years ago when Will was suffering through his possession. Mike would’ve stayed for as long as Will needed him. He knows he would’ve.

But why?

You know why, that voice in the back of Mike’s mind whispers, and Mike’s breath catches as he watches Lucas press a gentle kiss to Max’s forehead. You know why.

…

Oh.

Oh.

…

Oh, shit.

The lump in Mike’s throat grows, and his heart pounds inside his chest as this newfound revelation begins to sink in. Suddenly, it feels as though the blinds have been opened, or like he’s finally seen the light, or like the last piece of the puzzle has finally slotted into place, allowing him to solve the mystery of why things have always been different with Will.

…

Mike is in love with Will.

…

Mike is in love with Will.

Holy fucking shit.

“Lucas,” Mike blurts out, before he can stop himself. His heart continues to beat nervously—thump, thump, thump—and Mike forces himself to take a deep breath… in and out. In and out.

Lucas looks up, a confused expression on his face. “Um… yeah?”

“I… I wasn’t talking about El,” Mike whispers, watching as a confused expression forms on Lucas’s face. “And I… I think I just realized something, and to be completely honest with you, I am freaking out right now, and honest to God, I should just shut up before I say something I regret, and—”

“Mike,” Lucas interrupts sharply, and Mike closes his mouth, still staring at his best friend with wide eyes. “Dude, okay… first of all, breathe. Second of all… what are you talking about? If… if you weren’t talking about El, then who were you…”

His voice trails off. Mike can pinpoint the exact moment that Lucas makes the same realization he did, and Lucas stares at him with wide eyes. “Oh, shit.”

“Yeah, ‘oh shit,’” Mike echoes, the panic still rising in his chest. His face feels like it’s burning up, and he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “Lucas, I don’t… what do I… I’m not supposed to…”

The words fall flat again, and as tears sting Mike’s eyes, he looks away, lest Lucas see him cry over this. Fuck. This is bad. This is bad, and Mike has no idea what he’s going to do here. He’s officially fallen down the rabbit hole, and there’s no turning back now.

“Hey,” Lucas says softly, and Mike looks up, tentatively meeting his best friend’s eyes. “Let’s just… let’s not freak out or anything. I mean… there’s nothing wrong if you do feel that way for Will… but… but let’s just try to figure this out first. Okay? Nobody has to know but you and me.”

“Right, right. You’re right.” Mike takes a deep breath again—in and out. Okay. It’ll be fine. Maybe he’s just overthinking all of this, or… or maybe he’s not. But for better or for worse… this is happening. He’s down the rabbit hole, and he’s dragged poor Lucas in with him. 

“What makes you think that… that you might feel that way for him?” Lucas asks gently. 

It’s a loaded question, but then again, it’s not. It’s really, really not, especially when Mike stops to think about all the moments in his own life—staying by Will’s side through thick and thin and doing anything to make sure that Will is protected and safe and cared for. All those moments… they parallel exactly what Lucas is doing for Max right now. The similarities are undeniable.

Mike glances away from Lucas to look at Max, then back at Lucas again, and with a shuddered breath, he whispers, “Because I’d follow him anywhere, Lucas.”

Just like you’d follow her anywhere.

“Don't leave me here alone,” Sam had cried, in the passage of the book Lucas had just read. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

Mike doesn’t have to say anything else.

Because better than anyone else in the world, Lucas gets it.