#// but the more that i look at them i realize they probably are

[gloomwitchwrites]

For call of duty, can you write how 141 would react to you coming home after being announced KIA?

Love your work btw ❤️❤️

Not gonna lie, anon, but I genuinely read this as us reacting to the 141 coming home after being announced KIA, not them reacting to us coming home. I literally dumped everything I had planned and redid it because I missed that ONE word. (oops). Still, it's an emotional one. Your tears fuel me. :)

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Task Force 141!f!Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): angst, reunions, fluff, kissing, secret relationship, established relationship, grief/loss, swearing, mild humor, suggestive themes, mild sexual content

Word Count: 2k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

Reality isn’t fair. It’s not kind or forgiving.

A week gone and John is simply floating, going through the motions, simply existing. This is why you don’t date military while in the military. It’s shit like this. It’s being told the person you love is fucking dead and now you’re the one left to pick up the pieces.

There wasn’t even a body. Vaporized is what they told him. Instant and painless. You felt nothing. It’s a small comfort, but John would rather have you in his arms than knowing you’re nothing more than atoms.

He sighs, and then puffs on his cigar. Smoke curls around him. It’s all quiet on base. Everyone is gone other than the routine patrol. John sits alone in his office, looking for files for an upcoming mission.

There’s a soft knock on is office door.

“Come in,” he says, not knowing who it might be but it must be important for it to be this late.

The door clicks and then creaks as it opens. John glances up, the cigar halfway to his mouth before the world around him completely stutters to a halt.

A phantom—a vaporized phantom—stands just inside, one hand on the doorknob. You are unharmed—clean. No scratches or wounds that John can see and wearing civilian clothing.

John is already standing, already moving, unable to resist the urge to remain in his chair and write this all off as a delusion. The cigar is forgotten, probably burning a hole in the wood of his desk. You match the forward momentum, shutting the office door, reaching out to him. When his arms go around you, and pull you in, John realizes that this is not an illusion. You are real and alive and here.

“You’re dead,” he murmurs, disbelief in his tone.

“I know. And I’m so sorry. It wasn’t—”

John grasps the back of your neck in a harsh hold, pulling you in for a kiss. He silences your voice, only needing your warmth and taste. You melt for him perfectly, answering the kisses with your own. With a gruff groan, John presses you up against the closed door.

“John,” you mumble, pulling back slightly.

“How are you here?”

“I’m sorry. We had to. It was the only way to extract me safely.”

John presses his forehead to yours, breathing you in. “Never again. Promise me.”

“Promise, John.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

One. Two. Three.

The seconds tick by, and still, Kyle refuses to move. For the last two weeks, Kyle has been cold and distant, sitting in the recliner in the corner of the living room.

He doesn’t read, doesn’t return the numerous missed calls and text messages, and he doesn’t turn on the television. He just sits, staring off into space, unable to figure out where his life will go next.

Why you? Why are you gone and not him?

It’s not fair. It’s not fucking fair. You should be alive and whole and happy. You should be home, wrapped in Kyle’s arms.

Kyle sighs, running his hands over his face. An overwhelming wave of grief bubbles up, threatening to rip a sob from him. Leaning forward, Kyle rests his elbows on his knees, cradling his face in his hands. He takes a deep, shuddering breath. The wave crashes against his resolve, eroding some of the numbness.

The coffin is empty. No body to bury. He still hasn’t contacted your family. He can’t do it. Can’t face them. That fact that he is here and you are not is a failure on his part. Kyle promised that he’d look after you, and now you’re gone.

Around him, the air stirs—shifts. Kyle rubs at his face, sudden awareness slipping in. There’s an anticipation in it—a tension.

“Kyle.”

That voice. He knows that voice.

Shaking his head, Kyle keeps his face covered, his breathing becoming ragged.

“You’re not real,” he gasps.

Phantom fingers lightly brush across the back of palm, traveling to his wrist. Another set join them, and two warm hands gently wrap around his wrists. They tug, and Kyle surrenders, glancing up at the delusion his consciousness is creating.

Your smile is a beacon in the dark. It is everything he’s dreamed up these aching days, only wanting to see you again. And this is no dream, this is the waking world—reality. Somehow, you are standing before him, grasping his wrists, smiling down at him with such happiness that Kyle doesn’t entirely understand how this could be possible.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Kyle.”

He’s standing, wrapping you up in his arms. There is no mistake. You are here. You are here.

Kyle murmurs your name over and over again like a mantra. He touches you everywhere, needing to know that every inch of you is real and not a figment of his imagination. You curl against him, tears forming, threatening to fall and stain your cheeks. Kyle kisses them away, grasping the sides of your face to steal your breath.

You melt beneath him, and Kyle’s only desire is to keep you near him, to relearn your every moan and whisper. He can get answers later. Later. Right now, you are here, you have returned to him, and that is enough.

John "Soap" MacTavish

Johnny made the choice, and now he has to live with the consequences.

It’s his own fault for caring about you, for deciding that you were the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He should have found a civilian. That way they’d be mourning him and not him mourning you.

Three months and the missive still burns a hole in his chest. It’s folded up nicely, faded and worn from him unfolding and refolding it, tucked into an inside pocket beneath his bulletproof vest. It’s right over his heart. Right where you should be. Right where you belong.

The missive doesn’t belong to Johnny. It’s addressed to Captain Price, but the man handed it over to him, because he knew—even though Johnny did his best to hide it. He didn’t want to share what he had with you with anyone. That was just for the two of you.

“You all right, Soap?”

Simon’s voice cuts through the static.

“I’m aces, Lt. Don’t worry about me.”

The words feel false on Johnny’s tongue. He hates lying—but he especially hates lying to Simon.

Even behind the balaclava, Johnny can sense Simon’s frown. But the big bloke says nothing, appearing content with his answer.

“Price wants you in Conference Room B.”

“Now?” asks Johnny. “We’re supposed to transfer out in a few.”

Simon shrugs. “He didn’t say much. Just said he needed to talk to you before we leave.”

Johnny sighs but he goes, patting Simon’s arm before jogging to one of the main buildings. It’s inconvenient—and Price could have just met him on the fucking tarmac.

“What do you need, Captain?” says Johnny, pushing open the door.

Captain Price stands just inside the doorway. And he’s not alone.

At first, Johnny doesn’t understand. It’s like all but one singular bulb has been extinguished, the remaining light illuminating the one ghost in the room. Because that’s what you are. A ghost. Unreal and ethereal. Not reality at all but a simple hope in the back of Johnny’s mind that has finally blossomed into delusion.

“Soap.” Price’s voice is gruff. He sighs and then takes a step away from you. “I’ll leave the two of you to it.”

He brushes past Johnny, lightly squeezing his shoulder as he makes his exit.

And Johnny does not move. He stands in the doorway like a bloody git, unable to understand how you’re standing before him.

You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.

Your smile is hesitant at first, your movements even more so. It’s a tentative walk to him, and you don’t touch, you only gaze at him, eagerness and hope in your eyes.

“Johnny,” you breathe, and he knows that voice.

So crisp and clear and real.

Johnny reaches out, and pinches. He pinches your arms, your waist, your cheeks.

“Ow,” you laugh. “What the hell?”

You are not cold, but warm. Solid.

Johnny laughs in disbelief. “Had to make sure I wasn’t dreaming.”

Your arms go around him and suddenly, like a firework bursting with color, Johnny is happy and whole.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Simon shuts the front door and frowns.

Whenever Simon comes home, Bravo always greets him. The all-black German Shepherd is a singular ball of energy, turning in quick circles and tap tap tapping his paws against the hardwood in anticipation of back scratches and belly rubs.

For the past week, Bravo’s presence has been the one bright thing, the only bit of happiness keeping Simon going. The rest of it was snatched from him, torn apart and shattered, scattered to the wind. The letter is tucked inside the drawer of the bedside table. He only read it once. And once was enough.

You are dead. That’s what the letter says anyway. And it infuriates him more than anything. Every mission you’ve ever been on has been with Simon. Except this last one. And on this last one, you did not come home.

“Bravo!” shouts Simon, dropping his keys in the designated spot next to the front door.

Removing his coat, he hangs it up, and then kicks off his sneakers. Sighing loudly, Simon heads down the hall but Bravo does not emerge. Simon pokes his head into the living room and finds no dog. Kitchen, and still nothing. He even checks the backyard. No Bravo.

As Simon turns into the bedroom, he comes to an abrupt halt.

There’s Bravo on the bed, and sitting on the edge—

“You—”

You hold the letter in your hands, attention turning to Simon as he enters. Standing quickly, you extend the arm holding the letter while you bring a singular finger to your lips, implying silence.

Simon’s stomach flips, and then twists quickly. He moves across the room a couple strides, grasping your waist and pulling you close. He says nothing, only searching your face as you keep that finger pressed to your lips.

You flip the letter over to the blank side.

Compromised.

Everything clicks into place. Either you faked your death or someone lied.

Simon cups the side of your face as you drop your finger away from your lips. His mouth replaces, tasting and seeking, wanting to remember. You open for him, accepting it all. His hands tighten on your waist and it takes every ounce of Simon’s control to not throw you onto the bed and rut like an untamed beast.

But he does refrain.

Simon has the car loaded and the alarm system armed in ten minutes. Even on the road, Simon doesn’t speak. He’s not sure if he can. All he does is keep his hand on your thigh, squeezing tightly, attempting to ground himself and keep his focus on the road.

At the safehouse, Bravo takes off, running through the tall grass as you and Simon enter the barn through a small side door. The moment the bags are dropped onto the floor, Simon is on you, fisting your clothes, tugging at them in a need to seem them gone.

“Simon,” you groan against his mouth.

He wants answers. He needs to know what happened. But reconnecting with you is far more urgent.

“After,” he begs. “Please.”

You nod, understanding.

The two of shed your clothes quickly, falling onto the sofa in a tangled heap. Simon’s hand delves between, fingers finding your arousal. You’re ready for him—just as eager as he his. He makes no gentle effort, just a quick thrusts until he’s in to the hilt. Your brief gasp is swallowed up by his mouth, tongue delving inside for a taste as he starts to thrust.

This is what he needs. More than anything.

Talking can come after.

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@ferns-fics @tulipsun-flower @miss-mistinguett @ninman82 @eternallyvenus

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@keiva1000 @jackrabbitem @arrozyfrijoles23 @lovely-ateez @waves-against-a-cliff

@ash-tarte @marispunk @gingergirl06 @certainlygay @greeniegreengreen

[fleuryuns]

presenting a fic by @FLEURYUNS

you're still a virgin?

IN WHICH heeseung realizes you're still a virgin after swearing you'd get with someone from the start of the year, so he offers to help solve this problem

PAIRING ⟡ bsf!heeseung x virgin!femreader

UNIVERSE ⨯ non-idol au

WARNINGS ⟡ mdni, smut, porn with a smidge of plot for context, not proofread cuz who needs that, fingering, orgasm denial (briefly), missionary, very vanilla sex, heeseung's kinda awkward #pathetic_men

WORD COUNT ⨯ 3.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE . . . first smut fic on this acc... minors avert your eyes

“We never finished sharing our new year’s resolutions.”

You stop mid-bite into your pancakes. You and Heeseung had spent all morning making them, finally testing out the new oven you got after the last one broke down during another pancake morning. It survived, luckily. There’s only the taste-test left, but Heeseung’s comment catches you so off guard, you put the fork back down.

“New year’s resolutions?” you repeat. “You mean the ones from basically last year?”

He nods, shoving his first bite in. He hums at the taste. Success. “Yeah, we made those lists and started sharing but then—” Heeseung tilts and quirks his brow in thought. “—I can’t even remember. We probably got distracted, but either way, we never made sure we both completed our lists.”

Chuckling awkwardly, you keep your eyes on the plate. “I don’t even know if I still have mine—”

“I do,” Heeseung interrupts. “We put them in that box, remember? I found it this morning, that’s why I thought to bring them up, ha.”

“You didn’t, er, read them, did you?”

Heeseung shakes his head, chewing through another bite. “I thought it’d be fun to go through them and see what we’ve done or not.” He lightly taps his fork around his plate. “We’ve got a few days before the new year starts, no plans, I don’t know…”

“No, no, yeah, I get it,” you assure, nodding quickly. “I just, um, they were stupid. I was stupid. This year changed me, you know?”

Your roommate looks at you with a teasing glint in his eye. “Oh yeah?” He watches you nod again. “All the more reason to get them.” And before you know it, he’s rushing to his room to, you assume, get the box he’d mentioned earlier.

It’s not long before he’s practically skipping back into the kitchen-dining area bringing the box. Tossing his plate aside, he sets the box in between you two and sits back down. You’re anxious at how he unfolds the lid and pulls out two sheets of crumpled paper.

“Yours was the one with the rip at the top,” you say, reading the questions in his mind. Your face flushes as you realize that’ll only prompt him to take it out the other first.

He smiles at you before hiding his face behind the paper. He begins to read it out loud. “Resolution one: Learn how to make (good) pancakes—” Grabbing his fork, he clinks it twice against the porcelain. “Check. Number two: Make weekly savings—Check, right?”

You hum, your leg shaking beneath the table.

“Alright, and then—” He lowers the paper. Your eyes widen. “Lose my virginity?”

“Okay!” you say overenthusiastically. “See! I was being stupid, such a dumb thing to write on a new year’s resolution list, right? Haha, so funny, let’s just throw these out—”

“Wait, but we can cross this off, though, right? You had that boyfriend?”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” you clarify. “He was… gross. I never really liked him like that, so it just never happened. It’s whatever, I’m a virgin, okay, let’s move on. Isn’t the next thing I put down like eat more salads—”

“You’re still a virgin?”

You look at him bewildered. What was up with the intonation? Was it really shocking? Why does he even care? You suppose he’s always been the nosy type, just never assumed it would translate to this, as well.

He seems to realize the second meaning to his words and fumbles to take them back. “Okay, not like—I didn't mean it in a weird way, I’m just surprised that you’re... you know?”

“It’s… whatever,” you clarify. “It’s fine. It’ll happen at the right moment, right? That’s what they all say.” You'd shovel another bite into your mouth and you can’t help but taste the bitterness from your words with the sweetness of the syrup. “I’ll get over it when it’s done and gone.”

Heeseung clears his throat, paper discarded to the side, his eyes fixed on your plate in deep thought. “Do you…”

You raise a brow.

“Do you want my help?”

In your defense, you really hate being a virgin. Not that it’s embarrassing or shameful to be one, but the fact that you swore to yourself that you wouldn't be a virgin anymore since last year makes you want to crumble up inside.

You just don’t want to embarrass yourself in front of your past self. Imagine her laughing at you? That’s a new low.

Which leads to this moment right now. Laying in Heeseung’s bed, in Heeseung’s room, waiting for Heeseung to come back into said room with the “supplies” he was rushing out to get.

The door slowly swings open as Heeseung pushes it with his back, his hands full. He makes eye contact with you and a pout makes its way across his lips. “You’re still wearing your clothes?”

Your eyes snap open wider. “Yes?!”

“We’re gonna have sex, Y/N, your clothes aren’t supposed to be on.” He smiles at you as he sets down lube and condoms.

A wave of relief washes over you when you realize he’s just teasing. Heeseung’s a gentleman, but it’s not like you've gotten the chance to know the side of him you two swore to never let you meet. He could’ve been a weirdo creep for all you knew, as long as he was paying his half of the rent it never mattered until right now.

“Do you want me to turn around when you take them off?” Yep, just the same old awkwardly sweet Heeseung you’ve always known.

You smile, albeit nervously. “You’ll see me naked anyway, might as well put on a strip performance to get you in the mood.”

He laughs at your sarcasm, then points to the lights. “We could turn those off if you want.”

For a moment, you consider it. If not for the hopes of Heeseung seeing the least possible,  but for the ambiance. Do people leave the lights on or off during sex? Not like you know. Ultimately, you shake your head, getting off from the bed and sticking your hands under the hem of your shirt. “Ready?” you ask him, though the question is more internalized.

His hum is muffled by his hands reaching at the collar of his shirt.

At once, you two pull your shirts off together.

Standing bare chest to bare chest - with bra - you eye him carefully. “You take your shirt off from the top?”

“What?”

You mirrored his previous action. “You took your collar and pulled your head through the neck hole first—” your words muffle as you reenact it sloppily. “Normal people take their arms out first.”

Heeseung stifles a laugh behind his hand. “Aren’t you supposed to try to seduce me?”

“Is this not sexy?”

“Oh, please, go on, you’re making me hard.”

The two of you laugh and you realize you’re not so nervous anymore. The anxious jitters left your hands and you can feel your muscles relaxing. It’s just Heeseung. Just Heeseung.

As he recovers from a fit of laughter, you look at him in a way you haven’t taken the chance to ever since you met almost two years ago. His arms that flex when he wraps them around himself. His smile which switches to a sly smirk when he’s resisting the urge to laugh louder. His hair that falls neatly into place, over his eyes that glint to the point you can’t take your gaze away from them.

Heat rushes to your cheeks.

He’s attractive. Yeah, that’s been obvious.

Your type? Maybe…

But this is different. And, oh god, he’s going to have sex with you.

Heeseung clears his throat, snapping you out of your daze.

“Pants?” he asks cautiously. His eyes are brimmed with concern, probably sensing your confused thoughts, clearly not understanding what you’re telling yourself.

You respond by tugging at your sweatpant laces, letting them drop down dramatically. Heeseung keeps his eyes glued to your movement, eyes widening at the sight of your bare legs and white panties. He quickly reaches for his belt.

To your surprise, you can see that he’s, at the very least, getting hard. Maybe it’s nerves. You try not to think too much about the possible influence the sight of your almost-bare body has on him.

Still, to test the waters and ease or completely disrupt your mind, you ask, “Can you help me with my bra?”

He fumbles an answer, you’re pretty sure you hear a ‘yes’ through his blabs, as he kicks out of his pants fully and stumbles to your side of the bed. You turn your back to him, giving him the cue by raising your hair away from the clasp.

Shivers run down your spine at his gentle, warm touch on your skin. You never knew you were sensitive, but with every simple movement, every brush against your back has you feeling goosebumps running up your arms.

Heeseung’s breath is hollow behind you.

When the clasp is finally undone, you pull your arms out of the straps, letting the material drop to the floor with your other discarded clothes.

You turn to face Heeseung, his eyes saying more than any words could mean. Stunned, he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes,” you whisper in return, eyes drifting down to his mouth.

He doesn't hesitate to lean in. His arms naturally slide around your waist, pulling you flush against his body as his lips hungrily crash into yours. You gasp through the initial shock of ferocity, relaxing into his hold with your hands coming up to the nape of his neck.

His fingers squeeze your skin pulling a sound from your mouth, muffled by his lips. You don’t even notice the way his knees push you back until you’re laying on the bed, lips still attached to Heeseung’s, but even those pull away eventually. You almost get up onto your elbows to chase after his touch, but stop yourself at the sight of his intense gaze.

Your gazes lock with each other for a moment, before he finally breaks contact to rush to the bedside cabinet where the lube bottle sits. He pours a generous amount on his fingers, rubbing the gel slowly. He eyes the way it reflects the light and this one reaction makes you think he’s never seen it before, but you doubt it — you’ve heard his sexual escapades thanks to your graciously thin walls.

“I’m going to finger you first,” Heeseung interrupts your thoughts.

You simply hum in return, letting your legs fall apart for him to get back into place, between them.

Heeseung has one hand on your thigh, the other levitates over your skin with nearly-dripping lube, but his eyes are on yours, waiting for another nod before he can continue.

Giving him the signal, you aren’t prepared for the chill that runs down your spine at the cold sensation of the lube on your sensitive skin. Soon enough, though, your gasps turn to gentle hums as Heeseung draws little circles on your bare pussy.

“This okay?”

You nod needily.

One finger finally intrudes, swimming through your walls and curls to find that certain spot. Your hips roll into it—you never thought it'd be this different from your own fingers.

“More,” you whimper.

“Already?” Heeseung teases, but you can hear partial genuinity in his tone.

Wordlessly, your hand reaches down to his, pulling at it to get another finger inside of you.

Heeseung chuckles in disbelief, but doesn't disobey your request.

Two fingers in and you’re letting soft gasps escape your lips, eyes already threatening to roll back at the rhythmic pattern Heeseung’s keeping up. He pushes in, pulls out, pushes back in and curls into you. You match his pace with your hips, hoping to deepen his touch. He’s so close, so close to where you need him.

Meanwhile, his thumb rolls gently over your clit to ease the tension of the stretch. It helps, making your head spin and forcing you to focus entirely on the pleasure you feel, rather than the pain.

Heeseung doesn't warn you when he slips in a third, but you’re busy throwing your head back, moaning to tell him off for it.

“Fuck,” you whisper to the ceiling. “‘Is so good.”

Your back arches as Heeseung’s fingers reach your G-spot, curling and tickling the bundle of nerves, ripping out more muffled moans, your hand thrown to your mouth not to disturb the neighbours.

“Right there!” you moan. “Right—shit, yes—Right there!” When he keeps at it, you can't hold on much longer. “Fuck, I’m so close—”

And then it’s gone.

All the pleasure is ripped away from you as Heeseung pulls out of you coldly, barely looking your way as he turns to the bedside cabinet.

“Hey,” you whine, albeit childishly.

It’s as if something clicks and he turns back to you. “Sorry,” he singsongs out. “I didn’t want you to come so soon, I still have to actually fuck you, right?”

You pout, but ultimately he’s right. That’s what you're here for. “Fine.”

He fumbles with the condom packet, eventually giving up on going at it with his lubed-fingers and rips the package with his teeth.

“I could’ve helped,” you tell him, smiling teasingly.

“I got it. I got it.” He waves his hand at you before he uses that same hand to roll down the condom and—Holy. Shit. He’s packing.

You never took the time to think about his size, though you probably would've determined it was a decent size from the outline of it when he's chilling on the couch with sweats on.

But now that it's out, hard and flush against his toned abs? You take a deep breath and try not to think too much about how it must taste, how it’d feel to have him down your throat—as if you even know how to give a proper blowjob. Maybe he could guide you, holding your head from the back and pushing it back and forth rhythmically up and down his cock and—

“Y/N?”

“Huh?”

“I asked if you’re sure about this?”

He’s pumping his cock as he asks. You resist the urge to lick your lips.

“Yes,” you say. “I’m ready.” And there’s no lie in your words.

Heeseung crawls back onto the bed once more, staying on his knees when his body is lined up with yours. He nods to himself and you before lining up his dick with your entrance, one hand falling to the side of your head, the other resting on your lower stomach as he pushes in slowly.

The intrusion is unfamiliar. The stretch hurts more than expected. Yet, your mouth is agape in frozen pleasure — Heeseung let his hand fall lower and is now drawing circles on your clit to ease the tension.

He keeps his thumb on your pussy while slowing his movement to a stop. “Tell me when I can move.”

Instead of relaxing into the stretch, preparing yourself for more friction, you focus entirely on Heeseung’s movements on your clit. Rolling the bud of pleasure between his two fingers, your eyes flutter shut in pleasure.

You test the waters by flexing your core muscles, squeezing your walls against Heeseung’s cock.

“Fuck,” he groans, snapping his hips forward at once, but he quickly stops himself. Heeseung looks up at you with cutely worried wide eyes. “Shit, sorry—Are you okay?”

You giggle. “Go!” you say between laughs, rolling your hips down to get him going.

He doesn't need to be told twice. He quickly resumes his previous thrust, your legs are naturally pushed apart to give him more access—moans spill from your lips at the newfound depth he reaches.

Heeseung’s head dips, his hair falling over his face, but does nothing to hide his expressions. You watch him for a moment, reveling in how good your pussy is making him feel. You clench around him again and his mouth falls open. He lets out the most harmonious sound you never expected from him but want to hear again and again.

So, you roll your hips into his, until your lower stomachs are threatening to brush against each other, until Heeseung lowers from his hands to elbows, and your bodies are flushed against each other. Your skin is sticky with sweat, but you can’t be bothered. Not with his rhythmic thrusts reaching so deep inside of you. Not with his fingers still playing with your clit, torturing the bud with nonstop pleasure. Not with his lips so close to your mouth, and your head pulling itself upward to capture them in another kiss.

Your hands snake to the back of his head, curling into his messy hair and pulling gently to bring him closer to you. His free hand finds its way into your hair, too, pushing the flyaways back into the rest of the mess, away from your face, before it rests gently on your neck, guiding you in the kiss.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers into your mouth as your walls clench around him again.

Your head spins at his low tone, pleasure bubbling in your stomach in a way it never has before. “I’m—Shit—I’m so close!”

Heeseung takes this as a signal to speed up his fingers on your clit, and slows down his thrusts, deepening them with each push in.

“Come on, come for me.”

And you do.

So much, like never before.

Your back arches into him, head thrown back, letting out a sinful string of moans. You’d curse from the pleasure, but your thoughts aren't coherent enough to form words.

You’re frozen in place, legs shaking as Heeseung pulls out to finish himself off. He jerks off into the condom on top of your wasted body, coming undone as soon as your dazed eyes meet his hungry gaze.

He doubles over, landing on his hand, face mere inches away from yours. “Fuck,” he says.

“Fuck,” you repeat, a giggle in your tone.

“Congratulations,” he says, rolling onto his back to be laying beside you. “You’re no longer a virgin.”

Your weak arms raise in a small celebration. “Yay.”

“How was it?”

You can’t even respond, hands coming up to cover your flushed face. You can almost feel Heeseung’s smirk behind them.

“I’ll take that as good.” Then, after a beat. “Does that mean you'd want to do it again?”

Your hands fall flat to your sides in one quick movement. “What?”

“There’s so much more I can teach you.”

“No,” you say while shaking your head. He looks defeated, you almost want to reach up and pet him like a dog. “Not until you buy me dinner.”

[zombii-writess]

ɪ ᴘᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀ ɪɴ ᴡᴏɴᴅᴇʀʟᴀɴᴅ

summary: ever since you've woken up in Twisted Wonderland, you've been in awe. i mean how could you not? magic was everywhere!

your friends just shrug it off, thinking that there was nothing special about this world, but you, oh you can't help but giggle like a child whenever something explodes, whether on purpose or accidently, in potions class. of course, someone has noticed the joy at the smallest things in your eyes, and he can't help but admire that.

characters: Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, and Malleus,

type: fluffy / gn reader / romantic / bullet points + lowercase intended / reader is yuu

a/n: had this in my head for a while but whenever im given the chance to write i forget everything, some characters might be ooc and like most of the stuff i just searched up lol

unedited

✁-----

[ⅰ] riddle rosehearts

riddle likes your enthusiasm about wanting to learn things. so when you came up to him with a bunch of questions regarding his world, you bet he pulled out a stack of books and plopped them on a nearby table.

"i hope your free for the next hour, [name], because we aren't leaving until your curiosity is satisfied."

he thinks you're going to whine and make an excuse to leave, but he's left silent when you nod and plop down on the chair, back straight and ready to learn at whatever knowledge was going to be thrown your way.

it ended being longer than an hour. you couldn't help yourself asking questions about certain things like wars, how magic came to be, how it was possible to for dorms to have their own dimensional pocket for its location, and blah blah blah.

and riddle couldn't help himself to answering your questions, which led to more questions and again blah blah blah.

finally, you guys get a break for snacks and refreshments, riddle decides to ask you about your world. is there truly no magic in your world? ...magicians? they give the allusion of magic without being able to use it? interesting.

and break ends without both you realize it, but this time, riddle's the student and you're the teacher.

[ⅱ] leona kingscholar

usually, leona doesn't care if you're around him whenever he's sleeping, he likes napping on you. as long as it's quiet and there's no ruggie bugging him about any assignments, he's a happy lion.

but he can't help flicking his tail in irritation at your constant staring at his tail and furry ears when he's trying to sleep. he knows you probably want to touch them.

yeah, leona knows he's good looking, but could've you done your sight-seeing when he's more awake and ready to tease you?

"hey, herbivore, is there something on my face?" leona opens an eye and stares at yours with his green one. he notices you eying his ears and with a loud sigh, he repositions himself to rest his chin on your belly. "only for 3 minutes"

giggling, you immediately reach over and stroked at his fuzzy ears. then comes the questions. "do you use different shampoo for your tail?" "how do you wear headphones?" "your tail is very pretty!"

while you chatted away and messed with his ears and hair, leona fell deeper and deeper into slumber. he'll answer your questions when he wakes up.

[ⅲ] azul ashengrotto

why did he agree to this? why couldn't he just tell jade and floyd to take and show you the beauty of the deep sea? but knowing them, they might pull something and that something was this!

stuck in a sunken ship, with you, in his octopus form! but he can't help but flush at your gentle petting towards one of his many arms, the appendage wrapping itself around your fingers. he curses at the twins under his breath.

azul tries to focus your attention on other things he has found in the ruined ship, "look at this jewel, isn't it shiny?" "no? well, uh, then what about these shells? don't they look prettier to look at?" but the more he brough items using his limbs, the more amazed you are.

"wow, your arms are useful, not to mention very beautiful." azul pauses, soaking up your words, heart fluttering. "this shade flatters you so much, i bet you look good in any color"

azul and you didn't realize how close you had gotten to each other, chests touching and eyes locked like nothing else mattered. "azul, you're very beautiful."

his heart clenches at your words, swallowing a bit and murmuring a small 'thank you.' azul's limbs tightening their grip around you. "thank you, [name]..."

[ⅳ] kalim al asim

he's a yapper like you, poor jamil is seconds away from slamming his head into a wall from your ramblings.

you're amazed at some crystal lamps he has? guess what's sitting on your desk in your dorm. what do you mean there's no such thing as enchanted jewelry in your world? don't worry [name] he'll cover you head to toe in enchanted jewelry.

but then kalim has an idea. what if he took you on a magic carpet ride? you liked it last time surely, you would want to do it again. you beam at the idea and before jamil could get a say in, kalim scoops your hand in his and drags you to the treasury where he keeps his magic carpet.

squealing in delight, the air smacked your face to which you buried yourself in kalim's clothing as you clung to him. kalim laughs with you as he guides his carpet up into the clouds. '[name] check out this view!'

you gasp at the sight; the moon was full and bright in the dark sky, stars twinkled in the dark dome, the air was crisp and cold. kalim feels his face warm up at the sight.

he'll take you anywhere you want as long as you stay by his side

[ⅴ] vil schoenheit

you remind him of rook in a way, always admiring the simplest things and always impressed by the tiniest things. he's seen the way you look at him with stars in your eyes whenever he makes sparkles fly in alchemy and potions class.

vil knows your curious and he absolutely thrives at your constant attention on whatever he's doing. be it doing his make-up, skin care routine, or doing schoolwork. as long as it's you, he doesn't mind your attention behind cameras.

currently, he's doing your daily skin care date night while you yapped away about potions and his skin care.

"you make your own skin care products right? that's amazing, i couldn't trust making my own and expect my face to come out as clear as yours." you laugh

vil huffs as his pinky scoops up some lip balm, then holds your chin gently with his pointer finger and thumb and applies the product to your lips. which he totally didn't need to do all of that when there was a small stick.

"that's why i'm here, [name], i could show you some tricks i've learned through trial and error."

[ⅵ] idia shroud

after over blotting and apologizing to everyone, idia expects his life to remain the same, occasionally having interactions with his peers, you have shown up to his dorm, thanks to ortho, and expressed your curiosity in his hair.

idia stutters out an incoherent explanation, tips of his hair burning a pink from the concentrated look in your eyes, and once he finishes, idia goes to close his door but jumps at your hand gripping onto the door. you weren't satisfied.

eventually you invite yourself inside and after countless questions about him, you mention technology from your world and that catches his attention.

he listens to your explanation, occasionally snickering at the outdated technology your world had. when you ask about the technology from this world, idia comes out a bit more from his shell and goes on a 3-hour rant about technology from Twisted Wonderland, with you occasionally asking questions.

idia hopes you don't notice the tips of his hair turning pink, but of course, you ask him, admiring the color.

[ⅶ] malleus draconia

he admires that about you. for someone who'll live for a short time, you always cherish what little time you have. malleus has lived for a long time; he's seen things come and go, and over the years, he seems to have lost the passion to seek and explore what life offered.

but being with you with your daily late-night walks, with your rambling of how you found potions being able to heal injuries and sicknesses absolutely mindboggling.

malleus listens attentively to your speech on mythical creatures back in your world, how dragons were your personal favorite, and how in your world, in fae mythology, it's rare for a fae to choose to become mortal. that certainly catches malleus' attention. (i literally just googled this so idk if this is accurate)

he's certainly never heard of this statement, but it does intrigue him. now your speech leads to questioning him or questioning about his title as one of the top five powerful mages. how do you get that title? are you born with it or do you have to prove yourself to professionals? can anyone receive this title?

malleus just smiles and answers your onslaught of questions, heart fluttering at your attentive gaze

Tip jar (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

[shy2-29]

Why didn’t you text back? ✮ l.hs ⋆

pairing: idol lee heeseung x reader

wc: 4.7k

synopsis: Your idol boyfriend, Heeseung hasn’t come home in days. You keep telling yourself it’s because he’s just too busy with work, after all, being an idol is hard. You’ve grown worried after no texts or calls after 4 days. He finally comes home, not paying attention to you, constantly demanding for you to do things. You confront him, asking him to do better, and he promises he’ll try.

warning: not proof read, mentions of self harm, death (car accident), swearing, arguing, relationships problems, drinking, passing out, harsh language, idol heeseung, mentions of Jake and Jungwon, sexism

genre: angst, drama, romance

rating: 15+

—

Four long days had passed, and Heeseung hadn't returned home. You reassured yourself not to worry, understanding the demanding nature of an idol's schedule. With a sigh, you accessed the messaging app to check Heeseung's response only to discover your message left on "delivered" for the past three days.

You started to worry more, seeing that your message was left on "delivered" for the past three days. Thinking and worrying about it, you started pacing around the room. "He couldn't even answer a simple text," you muttered to yourself, starting to get frustrated. After pacing around some more, you eventually sat down on the couch, debating whether you should call him.

A pang of resignation echoed through your thoughts, whispering to yourself, "He's not going to answer anyways." With a resigned sigh, you switched to Instagram, where you spotted photos from the celebration party with his members and staff. "Oh," you muttered to yourself, rationalizing the lack of response, attributing it to his busy schedule. "He's probably just enjoying himself and got caught up, that's why he hasn't texted—for four days..."

You couldn't help but feel a slight pang of jealousy as you scrolled through the Instagram feed, seeing photos from the party. "He's probably enjoying himself," you thought to yourself, trying to rationalize the fact that he hadn't responded to you in four days. "He must just have gotten caught up in it all." Despite your efforts to convince yourself that it was no big deal, the longer you looked at the photos, the more it only fueled your growing anxiety.

You continued to check your messages in vain, anxiously refreshing the screen in anticipation. Before long, tiredness overcame you, and you found yourself dozing off on the couch, the clock displaying a late hour of 12:35am. Suddenly, you were jolted awake by the sound of men's voices and commotion near the front door. Blinking sleepily, you stood up to find Heeseung and two other members, Jungwon and Jake, entering the apartment, seemingly unaware of your presence.

Jungwon and Jake were clearly visibly drunken as they stumbled through the doorway, giggling and chatting loudly with Heeseung.

"Shut it you guys," Heeseung hushed, trying to shush them but failing to keep a straight face himself. Jake and Jungwon continued giggling as they stumbled around the apartment. They didn't notice you until they saw you sitting on the couch, looking exhausted and frustrated.

"Jesus-" Jake exclaimed, clearly startled by your unexpected presence. "I didn't know you were here..." Jungwon mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact, feeling guilty. Heeseung seemed to tense up upon seeing you, realizing your displeased expression.

A weary sigh escaped your lips as you slunk back onto the couch in defeat. With their inebriated state, you assumed they would likely forget they had even noticed you in the first place.

Jake spoke up, "Damn, she looks pissed..." Jungwon elbowed him, shushing him. Heeseung couldn't help but notice your weary sigh and defeated slouch on the couch, realizing your annoyance.

Jake and Jungwon continued to stumble around, trying to find something to eat or drink in the kitchen. Their noises and clumsiness were clearly irritating you, especially when you noticed them raiding your cupboards and fridge, helping themselves to your food and drinks.

Heeseung let out a huff and turned to Jake and Jungwon, "What are you doing? We have our own food back at the dorm." Jake responded jokingly, "Yeah, but the food at y/n’s house always tastes better," while Jungwon continued drinking from a bottle of water he had found in the fridge. Heeseung shot them a disapproving look, trying to keep them under control.

The kitchen commotion continued as Jake and Jungwon rummaged through the fridge, laughing and chattering loudly. You sat on the couch, growing increasingly irritable by the minute. After a while, you had had enough and stood up from the couch, walking over to the kitchen.

"For crying out loud. Lower the volume, please," you exclaimed, your irritation evident in your voice. "It's almost 1 am, and a girl is trying to sleep."

You approached Heeseung, your finger jabbing his chest as you voiced your concerns. "And you, of all people, should know better," you added sharply before marching off to the shared bedroom.

Heeseung just stood there silently, watching as you stormed off to the bedroom. His expression was a mix of guilt and annoyance. He knew he was in the wrong but couldn't help feeling a bit defensive. Jake and Jungwon continued to giggle innocently, blissfully unaware of the tension.

A dismissive comment was made by Heeseung, a joking tone in his voice. "She's probably on her time of the month," he quipped, disregarding your frustration as if it were simply a byproduct of hormonal fluctuations.

Jake and Jungwon burst into laughter at Heeseung's comment, finding it hilariously outrageous. "Girls these days huh?" Jake chimed in, trying to brush off your annoyance as well.

Heeseung chuckled, taking a sip from a beer bottle as he leaned against the counter. "Yeah, they're so hormonal sometimes," he joked, earning him further laughter from Jake and Jungwon.

You woke with the dawn, only to find Heeseung lying next to you, reeking of alcohol. With a soft groan, you shook him awake, aware that it was already 7am. Knowing his upcoming comeback was drawing near and that he needed to head to the studio early to practice with his bandmates, you understood the urgency.

Heeseung stirred slowly, groaning at the bright morning light streaming through the window. The smell of alcohol lingered in the room, and you could tell he was struggling to open his eyes. You gently shook his shoulder, attempting to wake him up. "Heeseung, you need to wake up. It's already 7am, and you need to head to the studio for practice," you said, trying to keep your voice soft, yet firm.

Heeseung groaned again, burying his face into the pillow. "Just 5 more minutes..." he mumbled, his words slightly slurred from the drinking the previous night. You knew the importance of his upcoming comeback and practice session, so you continued shaking his shoulder a bit more firmly.

“Hee, wake up,” you urged, only to be met with a snappy retort from Heeseung. "Stop being so dramatic and let me sleep for five more minutes!" he grumbled, rolling further away from you in bed.

—

Frustration welled up within you as Heeseung snapped at you. You couldn’t believe the audacity he had after the night before. "Dramatic?" you repeated, a hint of anger in your voice. "You were out drinking with your members until 1 am, disturbing me in the middle of the night, and now you want to sleep in?"

Heeseung mumbled an incoherent response, clearly still groggy and trying to avoid a confrontation. But you weren't having it. "No, Heeseung," you asserted firmly. "You need to get up. You have a practice session with your bandmates. You're already running late, and you should have woken up hours ago."

Frustration boiled over, and Heeseung abruptly sat up in bed, startling you with his sudden movement. "For fuck sake y/n, I'm up, okay?!" he exclaimed, his tone sharp with annoyance.

Heeseung’s sudden outburst caught you off guard. You recoiled slightly, taken aback by his snappy attitude. But you tried to remain calm, "I’m just reminding you about the practice session," you replied, keeping your voice steady. "And you didn’t text or call me.. it’s been four days.“

Heeseung ran a hand through his messy hair, still visibly annoyed. "Jesus christ, it’s not like I’ve been gone for weeks," he retorted defensively. "I just got caught up with work, like I always do."

Heeseung's expression softened as he offered an apologetic smile, planting a kiss on your forehead. "I promise to do better next time, okay, y/n?" he reassured you before rising from bed. "I love you."

He picked up his scattered belongings from the floor and headed to the bathroom to get ready, leaving you alone in bed.

You smiled slightly, hoping for the best. Perhaps this time was an exception, and Heeseung had truly been too busy. Maybe he would indeed do better in the future, you thought to yourself.

The days passed in a blur, each one bringing fresh waves of anxiety and worry. You found yourself cycling through thoughts of whether to reach out to Heeseung, contemplating different ways to communicate, only to be met with silence.

Day 1. He hasn’t come home. Maybe he’ll come home tomorrow..

Day 2. Should I text him?

Day 3. No response, maybe a call?

Day 4. No response to my text or my calls…

Day 5. No nothing, his members are ignoring me as well.

You genuinely wanted to kill yourself. Were you that annoying to be with? Maybe he’s loosing feelings for you..

As the fifth day arrived, you were left with no response from your texts or calls, and Heeseung's members were also ignoring you. Feeling abandoned and questioning your worth, thoughts of self-harm crept into your mind. You grappled with the notion that perhaps you were an annoying presence in Heeseung's life, causing him to lose interest in you.

Day by day, the void of communication left you feeling more and more helpless. Each day you'd hope to hear back from Heeseung, but the silence only grew louder. The absence of his presence filled you with despair and a deep question of your worth.

Why couldn't he reach out to you? Why couldn't he respond to your texts or calls? Why did it feel like his members were purposely dodging your attempts to contact them? The lack of response from Heeseung and his members only added to your growing pain and insecurities.

The lack of communication continued to weigh heavily on your heart, and the days without any response from Heeseung only amplified your fears. You tried to push down the invasive thought of him possibly cheating, but it continued to gnaw at the back of your mind. Each passing hour and day were a constant battle with yourself, wondering if something more sinister was at play.

Maybe you should just end it. End your life. It would be easier for everyone right? But no, that would be too selfish for you. You know better y/n.

You reminded yourself that it wasn’t a solution to the problem and that it would only cause more pain for those around you. Still, you couldn’t shake off those thoughts. The anxiety and despair continued to build up inside you, making it difficult to see any light at the end of the tunnel.

It had been an entire week since you last heard from Heeseung, and no amount of distractions seemed to bring you comfort. You tried watching videos of him online, hoping to find solace, but even that failed to lift your spirits. Seeking refuge in your friends and family also proved fruitless. Finally, you even attempted a self-care day, but the emptiness within you remained steadfast. No matter what you tried, nothing seemed to work, leaving you feeling more lost than ever before.

The loneliness you felt was all-consuming, like a deep void inside your heart. You yearned for Heeseung's presence, but at the same time, you felt increasingly anxious and frustrated with his absence.

You questioned if he was intentionally ignoring you, or if something else was going on that you weren’t aware of. The mixed emotions twisted into a tangled mess inside your chest, making it difficult to think or breathe.

Heeseung finally returned home around 11pm, shutting the door with a weary thud. Exhausted, he settled onto the couch and nonchalantly requested, "Babe, could you make me a tea?" He then preoccupied himself with his phone, seemingly oblivious to your presence in the kitchen. Your mind raced, wondering why he hadn't even acknowledged you upon arriving home. Frustration and confusion coursed through your veins, creating a whirlwind of emotions.

The audacity he had to come back home and immediately ask you to make him tea, all while being completely indifferent to your feelings, made your blood boil. You stood there in the kitchen, your hands clenching into fists, watching him on the couch, his attention focused solely on his phone. The frustration boiled within you, and you couldn’t hold back your voice any longer.

"Are you serious right now?" you replied, the anger evident in your voice. "You finally come back home after ignoring me for an entire week, and the first thing you do is ask me to make you tea? Like nothing's wrong? Like nothing's changed?"

Heeseung looked up from his phone, finally giving you a glance. His expression was nonchalant, lacking any remorse or apology. He shrugged nonchalantly and replied, "What's the big deal? I’ve been working my ass off, and now I'm thirsty."

You couldn't believe your ears. The indifference in his tone and attitude only fueled the fire of your anger. "Working your ass off? That’s no excuse for not even acknowledging your own partner for an entire week. How can you be so ignorant to my feelings and just brush me off like this? Not even one simple text Hee? Just one!”

Heeseung let out a sigh, clearly annoyed that you were questioning him. "Jesus, y/n, I told you I’ve been busy. I don't have time to deal with your clingy behavior right now. Can you stop being so clingy and just make me the tea y/n?”

You wanted to cry. You wanted to punch him in the face. You wanted to grab that phone out of his hand and throw it on the floor then crush it into pieces.

"Clingy?" you repeated, your voice shaking with anger and disappointment. "Is that really what you think of me? I’m just being a concerned partner, you idiot! And the fact that you can’t even spare me a moment of your time to text or call me is what makes me 'clingy'? How do you not understand how incredibly inconsiderate that is?”

Heeseung's expression hardened, his patience starting to wear thin. "Oh, I’m sorry that I’m not always available to cater to your every need. Believe it or not, the world doesn’t revolve around you, y/n. I’ve got my own life and responsibilities. Can you just shut the fuck up and make the tea? It’s not that hard.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. The disrespect and indifference in his tone made your heart ache. How could he treat you like this?

"So that's what I am to you? Just a needy person who constantly needs your attention? Just someone you can push aside whenever you're bored? What happened to when we first started dating? When you used to make time for me no matter how busy you were? Was that just an act? Did you fake all of it?"

"Can you get off your phone and look at me for once, Lee Heeseung?" Your words echoed with a mixture of determination and frustration, as you used his full name to emphasize your dissatisfaction.

Heeseung rolled his eyes and reluctantly put down his phone, finally giving you his full attention. He looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and irritation, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Happy now?" he said, his voice sharp with annoyance. "Is that what you wanted? To have my undivided attention?"

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your own anger before replying. "Yes, I am happy that I finally have your attention. But not because I’m being needy and clingy, as you so charmingly put it. It’s because you’ve been MIA for a week with not a single message, no update, nothing. And you had the audacity to come home and pretend like nothing is wrong?"

Heeseung shrugged again, his aloofness continuing to grate on your nerves. "I was busy, okay? I had work and other commitments. I didn’t have time to text you every waking moment. Can you stop making such a big deal out of this? It’s exhausting."

Every fiber of your being was alight with anger, your hands instinctively forming tight fists. Your voice rang out in a near demand, "That’s it."

His nonchalant response only added fuel to the flames. "What's it?" he asked casually.

You responded coldly, your words cutting like a knife: "Get out of my house."

His expression faltered for a brief moment, surprise crossing his features before he quickly regained his aloof demeanor. "Your house," he repeated, his voice laced with mockery. "Funny how you’re so quick to kick me out, huh? Where do you want me to go at 11pm with no warning?"

Without hesitation, you replied acerbically, "Oh, I don't know, perhaps back to your dorm with your members? I'm quite certain they'd be absolutely thrilled for you to stay there."

Heeseung's annoyance turned into a mix of anger and disbelief. "Are you serious? You want me to go back to the dorm? After I’ve been away working my ass off? You’re really kicking me out like this? Are you that pissed at me just because I didn’t text you for a week?"

A tear escaped, betraying your attempt to hold back your emotions. Quickly, you turned away, refusing to let him witness your vulnerability and exhaustion.

Heeseung’s expression softened slightly as he saw the single tear trickle down your cheek, but his annoyance persisted. "Y/n, seriously?" he grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Are you really crying over this? It’s not even a big deal."

You spun around to face him, your voice laced with anger and hurt. "It’s not a big deal? It's not a big deal? Do you even realize how it feels to be constantly ignored and put aside by the person you love? To feel like they don't even care about you anymore? You think it's okay to just disappear for a week without a single word, and expect me to act like it’s all fine and dandy?"

Heeseung's eyebrows furrowed, his irritation growing once again. "Oh, here we go with the dramatic bullshit again. I didn't "disappear," y/n. I was working. I had responsibilities that I couldn't ignore."

You clenched your fists, your frustration reaching its peak. "And I’m asking for the bare minimum, Hee. Just a text to let me know you're alive and haven't completely forgotten about my existence. Is that seriously too much to ask for?"

The floodgates of your emotions burst open, spilling your heartache onto the floor. "Do you even love me anymore? Or are you just saying it so I can provide you with food and water, and serve as a source of stress relief at your convenience?"

Heeseung's expression hardened, his annoyance now replaced with anger. "Are you seriously questioning my love for you just because I didn’t text you for a week? Do you think love is measured by how many texts and calls someone sends? Are you really that shallow?"

The pain and anger in your voice echoed through the room as you exclaimed, "This isn't the first time you've done this! Last month you disappeared on me for a whole month! Do you even understand how worried I was? I passed out from worry! But I bet you didn't know that, did you? Because you're so fucking full of yourself!"

Heeseung's eyes widened, genuine surprise taking over his features. "You passed out from worry?" he repeated, his tone shifting from annoyance to shock. "You’re kidding, right? Why didn’t you tell me?"

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you spoke. "It's hilarious how you're pretending to care now," you spat, the words dripping with derision.

"Y/n-"

"Don’t y/n me!" you cut him off, refusing to give in to the familiarity of your name on his lips.

Heeseung fell silent, his expression a mixture of guilt and defensiveness. He had clearly not expected the conversation to take this turn, and your outburst seemed to have caught him off guard.

"Y/n," he began, his tone softer this time. "I-"

You cut him off again, your anger still burning brightly. “Don’t. Don’t say my name like that. Don’t use that gentle tone with me now. You’ve been ignoring me for a month. A whole two fucking months! I’ve been worried sick, wondering where the hell you even were. And it’s happening again now!”

Heeseung’s defensiveness resurfaced, and he snapped back, "Can you give me a break for five seconds, please? I’ve been working non-stop, y/n, and I just needed some space. I didn’t want you hovering over me every single second, nagging me to text you. I have my own life and responsibilities too, you know."

A frustrated explosion of emotions welled up inside you, manifesting in a stomping of your foot. "Fine! Stay here all you want," you huffed. "I'm going to find somewhere else to stay." Without another word, you snatched up your phone and stormed out of the house, left with no concrete plan nor belongings.

Heeseung called after you, his voice filled with annoyance and concern, "Y/n, where are you going? It's pouring outside!"

However, you were too caught up in your own emotions to listen, your feet carrying you away from the house and into the pouring rain.

The rain soaked your clothes and hair in seconds, but the coldness did little to diminish the fiery anger and hurt that consumed your heart. You continued walking, unsure of where you were headed or what you were going to do. All you knew was that you needed to get away from Heeseung, if only for a moment to gather your thoughts and calm your racing heart.

—

Time passed, and a week had flown by since Heeseung last laid eyes on you. Oddly enough, the absence didn’t weigh heavily on his mind, as he was completely immersed in the preparations for his comeback, engrossed in the company of his members and consumed by their upcoming cochella performance.

Curiously, Heeseung noticed the absence of your usual daily texts and calls. When he checked at home, expecting to find signs of your presence, there was nothing. Inquiring with one of your closest friends yielded no information either. Confusion and a hint of concern began to stir within him.

Heeseung tried to focus on his preparations, but a subtle sense of unease hovered over him as the days passed without any sign or word from you. He had grown accustomed to your regular texts and updates throughout his busy schedule, and the silence was now deafening.

The more time went on, the more concerned he became. His fingers itched to message you, but he held back, wrestling with his own stubbornness and pride.

Heeseung's phone rang, the screen displaying a mysterious number. A young female voice greeted him, asking, "Hello? Is this Lee Heeseung?”

"Speaking. Who is this?"

"A young lady was involved in a car accident a few days ago, and her name is y/n? You were listed as her only emergency contact..."

Heeseung's heart dropped in his chest at the mention of your name. “What?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “A car accident? How bad is it? Is she okay?”

The news grew more dire as the voice continued. "She's currently in a coma," the voice revealed grimly, "She might not survive sir..."

Heeseung felt like he had been punched in the gut. "Coma?" he repeated, his voice hoarse. "What? No, no, that can't be..."

His mind reeled with a flurry of emotions – shock, disbelief, and a deep, painful regret. Why had he let two months slip by without even a thought of you? And now, hearing that you were fighting for your life in a hospital room...

In the background, Heeseung hears an urgent beeping, followed by the panicked mutter of a doctor. "Oh no..." The words hang in the air before the call abruptly ends, leaving him with the name of the hospital and a sense of growing anxiety.

Without hesitation, Heeseung grabbed his keys and rushed out the door. Every cell in his body was filled with dread and guilt. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not when he had neglected and ignored you for so long.

As he drove to the hospital, his mind raced with a million questions and regrets. He cursed himself for not reaching out sooner, for letting his pride and stubbornness get in the way.

Without hesitation, Heeseung grabbed his keys and rushed out the door. Every cell in his body was filled with dread and guilt. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not when he had neglected and ignored you for so long.

As he drove to the hospital, his mind raced with a million questions and regrets. He cursed himself for not reaching out sooner, for letting his pride and stubbornness get in the way.

When he finally arrived at the hospital, he practically sprinted towards the nurses' station, desperation fueling his every step.

"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice strained. "I need to see her. Please."

The doctor's words hit Heeseung like a ton of bricks. "I'm sorry," the doctor said, his voice grave, "We did everything we could, but she didn't make it. The injuries were too severe, and she passed just a few minutes ago."

Heeseung felt a wave of nausea wash over him. No. This couldn't be true. It wasn't supposed to end like this. He had meant to apologize and make things right—to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he had taken you for granted. But now, it was too late.

Literally was so angry making this | masterlist

[teddybeartoji]

when co-worker!toji finds a cupcake, a note and a small paper flower on his table when he comes back from his break, he’s more than confused. he hasn’t told anybody about his birthday because he doesn’t even care about it in the first place and he doesn’t really care for the people at the office other than you either, so— 

you. 

his green eyes scan the room but he notices that you’re missing from behind your desk, he slowly slumps down onto his chair. he gnaws on his scarred lip as if he’s a little nervous – he’s used to just spend the new year’s eve with shiu and his family, and while they always gift him something nice, a little too nice even, to toji, his birthday has lost its meaning almost completely. 

he thinks this is too nice, too. 

sure, you’ve been working with each other for a good couple of months now and he gets along with you the best out of everybody here, he really can’t imagine why you’d go out of your way to get him something. hell, he doesn’t even know how you know it’s his birthday in the first place.

he eyes the cupcake and the little note beside it. and the flower. 

did you– did you make that for him? 

no way. 

…right? 

gently, he takes the small thing and places it right under the monitor, right where he can see it at all times. he doesn’t know how to describe the feeling inside him, right behind his ribcage, as he looks at the gift with his furrowed brows but it sure is something new. something he hasn’t felt in a very long time. 

next, he takes the note into his hand and glances around the office to make sure that nobody has noticed what he’s doing. they haven’t, and toji finds himself in a new type of a bubble – one that you’ve crafted just for him. 

it’s definitely your handwriting, he has seen it before. it’s a very simple ‘happy birthday toji’ with a very small heart next to his name and oh, how stupid he feels. what do you mean a doodle is making him feel giddy? 

this is ridiculous; he is a grown man, he doesn’t get giddy, he doesn’t— 

“i hope the flower wasn’t too weird.”

toji isn’t easily scared, it’s almost impossible to catch him off-guard like that, and yet, right now, his eyes are wider than ever. your voice is barely a whisper, most likely just so you wouldn’t attract any unwanted attention, but toji hears you loud and clear. 

he swallows the lump in his throat before pushing himself off the chair but since he didn’t realize you were so close behind him and you didn’t realize he’d stand up for you, he ends up grabbing onto your arms, so you wouldn’t fall over. 

“sorry…” you bite your lip and bat your eyelashes at him. he thinks he’s going to die. 

 “how’d you know?” 

he drops his hands to his side but he doesn’t move away and neither do you. 

“what, that today is the big day?”

he squints his eyes at you and you laugh. “okay, the small day.”

a ray of sun peeking in through the blinds. a warm light kissing his cheeks. you make the stupidest jokes. and he will always listen. 

“it’s a secret.” 

toji clicks his tongue.

“why?”

“why is it a secret?” 

“why’d you buy me stuff?” 

to a stranger, it’d probably sound like he’s interrogating you. but you know it’s just because you managed to surprise him. you, too, feel a little giddy now. 

“i didn’t buy you anything.”

his brows furrow again while your smile grows bigger.

“i made them, silly. and ‘why’ you ask?”

you don’t miss the slight flush that now adorns the apples of his cheeks. 

“because i wanted to. simple as that.”

[producedbysohyun]

Reverse comfort

Kang Dae-ho x reader

Summary: Reader is scared of thunder, and even though Dae-ho is a bit startled as well, he pushes his fear aside to make them feel safe.

Warnings: Non!squid game au, maybe slightly OC Dae-ho? GN reader

a/n: I keep seeing “reader comforts Dae-ho” and stuff like that but your girl needs some comfort as well so I decided to make one 😃 (please be kind this is my first time writing and English is not my first language 🙏)

The storm came out of nowhere. One minute, the sky was clear, and the next, it was dark and stormy. You sat curled up on the couch, hands gripping your ears as a way to drown the loud sound out.

Dae-ho was sitting on the opposite side of the room, the loud sound made him flinch, too. It wasn’t like he wasn’t scared, he definitely was. But he realized that you need more comfort than him at the moment.

Another clap of thunder struck and you jumped, breathing a little more erratic now.

“Hey,” Dae-ho said, voice soft as he stood up and walked over to you. “It’s just a storm. Nothing to be afraid of..” He said trying to convince himself as well.

But the look in your eyes told him you weren’t quite buying it. The thunder crashed again, louder this time, and your hands shook as you pulled your knees to you chest, trying to do anything to block out the awful sound.

Dae-ho’s heart tightened, the urge to comfort you stronger than his own fear. “Hey, come here,” he said, gently pulling you into his side as he sat down next to you. His arms wrapped around you tightly, basically pulling you into his lap at this point.

The sound of thunder shook the apartment again, and you stiffened, a small gasp escaping your lips.

Dae-ho’s chest tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “I know it’s scary,” he said quietly, “but you’re safe here. I’m right here with you.” He said again, not fully believing himself.

You nod slightly, trying your best to not focus on the thunder. You bring your legs up to rest on his lap, the two of you holding tightly onto each other.

Dae-ho gave you a small smile, rubbing your leg softly. He could feel the tension in your body starting to melt away, and that was enough to make him forget about the thunder for a second.

“See? We’re fine,” he said, his hand still resting on your leg. “You’re not alone.”

Your voice was barely a whisper when you finally spoke. “Thanks, Dae-ho.”

He just nodded, pulling you a little closer. “Of course, angel….”

As the storm raged on, the loud booms of thunder and flashes of lightning outside only seemed to intensify. But inside, with Dae-ho's comforting presence beside you, you felt a little safer. The warmth of his body against yours felt like the only thing keeping you grounded.

Another boom rolled through the apartment, and you stiffened, your grip tightening on Dae-ho’s sweatshirt. You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the fear rising again with each noise from the storm. But this time, you didn't panic as much.

Dae-ho noticed the way you tensed and, without hesitation, he moved his hand from your leg to rap around you again, pulling you just a little closer. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft against the storm outside. "Ive got you."

You cling onto him so tightly that you can feel the way he’s shaking as well. You can’t help the guilt that creeps up your body as you realize that he’s scared as well. All you can do is mumble out a quiet apology.

“I’m sorry….”

Dae-ho looks at you in confusion. “Sorry… for what?”

You sigh. “I- I don’t know… I feel bad… I know you’re scared too and I just-“

Dae-ho cuts you off. “Hey.. don’t worry about me ok? I’m fine…”

You know that’s probably a lie given the way he’s shaking so you try to defend your statement. “But you-“

“Y/N.. it’s ok… let me take care of you…” he says, cutting you off once again.

You sigh, too exhausted and scared to argue over it so you just lean into him more.

“There you go…” he says as he rubs your back softly.

“Thank you….” You say tiredly, your body feeling more relaxed as you hear the storm calming down.

He smiles and reply’s. “No need to thank me baby…”

You both sit in comfortable silence. Your body practically on-top of his as he continues to rub your back, both of you calming down as the claps of thunder become less frequent.

After a while, you drift off to sleep, Dae-ho following soon after, still wrapped in each other’s arms. And as the storm calmly continued outside, you couldn’t help but think that if enduring a thunderstorm meant being held and comforted by your boyfriend for hours, maybe it wasn’t so bad after all.

a/n: ignore how bad I am at making endings but I hope you enjoyed it 😭

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Soulmate AU I 2k I Rated Mature I idiot4idiot

The thing about linking with your soulmate, you never knew when it was going to happen. There were horror stories about it happening during weddings to someone else or while performing heart surgery or landing a plane, but linking was so rare, stories like that seemed more like fairy tales than cautionary ones.

If anyone had asked Eddie what he thought about it, he would've said the odds of there being some guy out there destined to be his mate, let alone that he'd have to worry about linking during some critical moment, were astronomically low.

He'd be wrong.

Because his ears are ringing, his vision has tunnelled, and there's an empty vacuum where his usual chaotic thoughts should be. All signs pointing toward-

Hello?

Jesus H. Christ, not now! Not right now, this cannot be happening now. Quick! Think of something else! Uhhh… Golems! Ice golems! Or maybe frost giants. Yeah! Not having hate sex with your arch nemesis. Shit! Stop thinking about it! Frost giants, frost giants, frost giants!

Hate sex? He hears echo around his noggin next. Arch nemesis?

Fuuuuuck. No, darlin’, don't even worry about that stray thought! Nothing to see here. I'm, uh, baking! Yeah. Brownies. For a charity bake sale

A long pause, empty space between them, before he says, I don't believe you. I think you are having sex

Sex?! He screeches. How dare you! I would never!

You would. Go balls deep into a guy you don't even like, sounds like to me. Class act.

Oh god, there’s gotta be a way to salvage this.

No, let me explain, please!

Knock yourself out

Right. So, this guy, I know him from school, right? And he was always kind of a jerk. The space between them pings with a sort of stung feeling but Eddie doesn't understand how any of this works yet so he ignores it. But we end up having a few mutual friends, and this one really weird event happens that forces us to, like, team up, I guess. After all that I'm spending more time around the guy and he's not so bad. Invited me over to smoke up with him, which was cool. I'm gonna be totally honest, I'm not sure how exactly we got here, the sex part, but it’s pretty hot and heavy, kinda aggressive, so… yeah. Hate sex I guess

Soulmate is quiet again. His feelings bleed through anyway, at least Eddie's pretty sure that's what he's getting. It feels like embarrassment and disappointment.

You okay? Did I scare you off?

You don't like the guy at all? You said arch nemesis

Oh. Uh. Well… How did he explain to his future partner, if he hadn't already ruined it, that he likes him plenty, he's just been holding him at arms length, metaphorically, because he assumed the guy was straight? Up until roughly twenty minutes ago. He should probably start with honesty.

No, I like him okay. He's not as bad as I'd always thought. We give each other shit but I'm pretty sure it's just left over bullshit stereotypes from high school. I bully him about his music taste, he bullies me about my shitty van. That type of thing

…Right

He waits to hear back from his soulmate but he's not very talkative. That's okay, Eddie can talk enough for both of them.

So, what were you up to when we linked? Not driving I hope

He can hear the guy sighing over the link, which is worrying.

You'll never believe it, but I'm also having sex at the moment

Seriously? That's hilarious

Yeah. A hoot

Not having fun?

I was. But I recently found out the guy doesn't like me that much. So, yeah, real mood killer

Oh man. That sucks

Oh my god. Yeah, it really does. Kinda wish he'd get off of me so we can get the awkward part over with but he's distracted at the moment

Doing what?! Eddie yells, offended on his behalf.

“He’s busy not realizing he linked to the guy he was hate fucking.”

Huh?

“Eddie, open your fucking eyes.”

That's Steve talking.

He blinks his eyes open to see Steve looking up at him. He's not pleased.

Wait

“Yeah.”

Oh my god

“As impressive as it is that you managed to stay hard through that whole thing, I'd appreciate it if you-” He hisses as Eddie, rudely he realizes, pulls out without warning.

He scrambles to the end of the bed, bunching up the comforter around his junk. “I'm so sorry, fuck, Steve, I'm so sorry. I don't… I didn't…”

He can't fix this, he starts to slowly comprehend. He's made Steve think he hates him.

“Nah, it's cool. I get it.”

I don't hate you, I swear. You have to believe me

“Sure, Eddie.” He's yanking his briefs back on, angry and trying not to show it. “You just don't like me much.” Can't believe I did this again. So fucking stupid

Eddie's certain he's not meant to hear any of that but he responds anyway.

You're not stupid. Please let me explain

“You already did. And I am fucking stupid,” he snaps. “Here I thought we were flirting this whole time and you thought we were bullying each other. That's real fuckin’ stupid of me. I'd convinced myself you actually-” He snaps his teeth shut but Eddie can still hear the unfinished -liked me. “I really wish you would control your feelings, dude. You're broadcasting your horror straight into my head.”

“I don't know how to stop,” he quietly admits.

“Well if you'd ever shown up to health class you'd know how to control it.”

I never thought I would get a soulmate

Steve's surprise at that pings around his brain before he does what Eddie can't and shuts it down.

“I did. I've been thinking about it for years.”

And you ended up with me… And I ruined it before we even got started. I ruined it. Steve Harrington is my soulmate and I ruined it. What the fuck

“You don't have to say it like I'm some kind of prize.” He steps into his jeans and tugs them back up to his hips, not even bothering to do them up. Which is- “I guess it's nice that you think I'm hot. That's something. Maybe we'll be the first casual hookup soulmates.”

He has to fix this. Somehow. Think, god damnit! Wait! That's it! He just has to show Steve what he's thinking!

“I wish you wouldn't.”

“Too bad!” He snaps back.

Okay, as embarrassing as this is about to be, he has to tell the truth.

Eddie was in the 8th grade, Steve in 7th, when they first met. Or, when Eddie first noticed Steve anyway, they never really spoke to each other, their cliques already established by then. But Eddie can remember it like it was yesterday. It was lunch, Eddie was walking by with his bagged PB&J, when he heard it. Steve laughing. It was so joyful, Eddie didn't even know what he was laughing about but it made him smile anyway. Of course one of Steve's shitty jock friends caught him staring and called him a queer freak but that wasn't unusual.

“What the fuck, Eddie? Why do you remember that? And how are you so good at visualizing?”

He ignores the questions to move on to the next memory. Eddie's sophomore year they somehow ended up in the same Shop class. Again, they never spoke but he got to watch Steve work, tongue poking out while he concentrated, the proud look on his face when he whittled some hunk of wood into a recognisable shape.

“I forgot about that. It was a dolphin. I was dating Chelsea Hosteller, they were her favorite animal.”

“Lucky her.”

“Hey, fuck you, man, you're the one showing me this shit! What am I supposed to assume from any of this? You thought I was cute? So what? You clearly don't like who I am as a person, so what difference does it make?”

He's not going to have the patience for every single moment, and they're a lot of them, Eddie realizes that now. So he speed runs through them, making sure to send every bit of feeling through their link.

Steve in his Scoops outfit, luring Eddie to the mall but never making him brave enough to go in. The horror of not knowing whether Steve was alive or dead when he heard about the mall burning down. The joy of finding him at Family Video, somewhere he had reason to visit.

You never even talked to me there

Listening to every word to every story Henderson told him about Steve and his bravery. Pretending to be annoyed so no one noticed he was eating it up. Getting to know the real Steve over Spring Break, the giddiness he couldn't quite tamp down, even as he was scared shitless. The pain of knowing Steve was still in love with Nancy Wheeler, even though it was the obvious narrative to Steve's fairytale life. Of course he gets the girl at the end.

What? Is that why you-

The way he stuck around afterward, even though their dynamic was more antagonistic than friendly, and the way Eddie thrived off of every snarky comment. How it felt like banter even though Eddie knew, by all logic and reason, Steve was merely tolerating his presence. They would always be antithetical to each other, circling but never meeting.

Eddie, no

Steve growling ‘Do you ever shut up!’ before pouncing on him downstairs. The heavy pounding of his heart as he wrestled Steve up the stairs. The way his brain never did catch up to what was happening or why, until it was too late, and he was ruining both the greatest sex he'd ever had and also the chance to prove, though he's still completely unworthy, that he has already been primed and ready to fall for Steve for years. The shame of ruining it. The heartbreak of ruining it. The teeny, tiny spark of hope as Steve stares him down. He has to close his eyes to avoid it, lest he say something stupid and fuck it up again.

You…do like me?

Yeah, Stevie. I like you a whole lot. I just didn't think I was allowed to like you. I didn't realize you liked me too. I'm sorry I said all that shit earlier. I didn't want to tell the guy I'd just linked with that I was thoroughly enjoying the chance to sleep with this guy I'd had a crush on for years. That seemed rude

The bed dips and so does Eddie's stomach. Steve's enormous hands slide up his neck, into his hair, and gently cradle his face as he leans in to kiss Eddie square on the mouth.

Oh. Hi

Hi

This is nice

I think so too. How do you feel about finishing what we started but this time we both know that we like each other?

That sounds awesome. But are you sure? I really, really fucked up the first time

I thought you were perfect up until you called me your arch nemesis

I have been told that sometimes I'm a little dramatic

You know what, that's fair. I really should've taken that as a compliment, if anything

See? Now you get it

What I'm getting is another condom. Hold my ankle so I don't slide off the bed

You got it, baby

Unbelievable. Salvaged the wreckage of his own stupidity and managed to bag the hottest guy in town! Score one for the nerds!

“I heard that.”

[demonic0angel]

Jason meet Jazz and, due to her highly liminal nature and some ghostly shenanigans, he gets the idea that she's secretly a vampire. He's kinda into the idea.

(They’re stupid, your honor 😭)

“So… what’s your opinion on Twilight?” Jason asked, leaning over the desk to look at Wolf.

She paused from reading her papers. Then she said, “Twilight by Stephanie Meyers?”

“Yeah. That one. Like with all of the werewolf and vampire stuff.”

“Well. In a way, I think it’s interesting how much of an impact it’s made, but I mostly think her writing is a reflection of her Mormon views, and the impact that it’s created on people isn’t so great when you realize that she’s discriminatory and judgemental.”

Damn, he agreed with her on everything. She was so perfect. It was almost a little sad how she was a vampire, which was probably why she covered herself so thoroughly in leather and fabric.

“I agree. I was asking more about the creatures inside though. It’s pretty fascinating that vampires sparkle in the daylight. It’s sad, of course, that they are dependent on blood and have to hide their immortality, but the plot point where Bella wanted to be immortal was quite interesting, even if a little tasteless. Not that it’s bad to be inhuman, y’know?”

She turned to him slowly. He couldn’t read her expression through her helmet, but he felt like her gaze was extremely confused. After a moment, she nodded quickly and said, “Uhm. Yes. Being inhuman is not a thing to be hated, but instead, respected like any other race. After all, we’re just trying to survive. I’m glad that you’re making your anti-discrimination policies even more clear, Hood.”

Jason blinked.

Why did he feel like they weren’t just on separate pages, but also on separate books?

He pulled down his jacket a little, revealing his neck. His armor loosened and Jason had the inkling of looking like a whore before he stomped down on the feeling. Not that it was wrong anyways. He was absolutely a whore for Wolf.

“Y’know, Princess,” he said in a very casual voice, “If you were a vampire or a demon, I’d let you feed on me.” He paused and added, “Only for research purposes, of course.”

She paused again, taking even longer to stare at him.

Jason also stared back at her, though he wasn’t really sure because both of them had helmets.

Eventually, she just awkwardly said, “Okay.”

“Okay?” He asked, hinting at her.

She nodded slowly. “… okay. I’ll feed on you if I need to.”

That was basically confirmation! Jason beamed and returned her nod. “That’s good. Feel free to do it whenever you need. I’m here for you, Wolf.”

“…….. thanks.”

[revelboo]

I found your account about a week or so ago and I’ve nearly read everything!! Your writing is so addicting! I can’t wait to read more of Alcohol eyes! The way you write rumble is so good!! Esp with Frenzy coming to pick his brother up!

Meanwhile Soundwave is left worried

Alcohol Eyes Pt 7

Rumble x Reader, Frenzy x Reader

• “Problem?” You ask, sweeping past Frenzy, going up on tiptoe to get a cup out of the cabinet as Rumble stares. Realizing his brother is doing a little staring too, his mouth slightly open. Insinuating himself between you and Frenzy since his twin is just gaping at you, Rumble hooks an arm around your waist and tugs you into him. Servos tipping your face up so he can claim your mouth. “Think we broke your brother,” you murmur when he lifts his head. “You okay, baby?” You ask Frenzy as Rumble growls.

• Is he jealous? It’s too cute as you look from one to the other. Well, you’d wanted to take them both home. Of course, you’d thought they were human at the time. You’re not even sure you can survive two of them if they’re anything alike. “Frenzy,” he growls, seeming to snap out of his shock. “I’m not a sparkling.” No idea what that means, but you guess he doesn’t like nicknames. Shoulders squaring to puff out his chassis, you swallow a laugh and brush a kiss against Rumble. And get pushed back against the counter and pinned, his hands on your hips.

• “We could break him,” Rumble whispers against your throat, hearing your delighted little laugh. Because Frenzy’s always been the impulsive one, the one doing whatever the frag he wants and dragging Rumble into the mess. How many times has Frenzy sneered at him for being the good one? For being no fun. For being too scared he’ll get in trouble. Gripping your hips, he lifts you up onto the counter so he can press himself against you, your thighs parting to welcome him. And you’re at the perfect height for him, growling hungrily when you hook a leg around his waist and lean back on the counter. Glancing over his shoulder, he bares his denta in a grin, because Frenzy’s mouth is open again in disbelief. “Tell Soundwave I’m busy,” he says with a lot more bravery than he actually feels as he buries himself inside you, hearing your throaty moan.

• Venting raggedly as Frenzy moves further into the room as his brother’s hips buck against the human, he reaches for the counter, misses, and nearly falls. Staring as Rumble ruts against you, spike stroking deep with a sinfully wet sound to mingle with your whimpers and cries. Leaning back against the counter, he watches. Has never paid a lot of attention to the little squishies. But he’s realizing the possibilities now. And holy frag. You’re closer to their size, they still tower over you, but you’re the right size to take a spike. Glossa darting out to wet his lip as Rumble moves quicker against you, your legs hooking around him. “I wanna play,” he growls, watching you arch, trembling. Hearing Rumble snarl, hips snapping against you, before he shudders with his own release. “Share.”

• Shivering and overly sensitive, you’re sprawled back against the counter, head and shoulders against the wall. Making a soft noise when Rumble grinds himself against you and you turn your head to study the brother, Frenzy. It’s tempting. Even if you won’t be able to walk later. Leaning over you, Rumble’s mouth brushes yours, glossa stealing inside as he keeps rocking himself against you to make you arch. Hooking your arms around his neck as his mouth explores you almost lazily before he lifts his head. “I’m fragging keeping you,” he growls as you laugh at the hunger in his voice. Wondering what his kind had come to earth for. Sex probably wasn’t it. “We’re keeping you.” Servos feathering over your cheek, there’s a question in his claim, not a demand.

• “Alright then,” you say eyes wicked as you lean forward and bite Rumble’s bottom lip. Hearing the sound Rumble makes as Frenzy’s spike stirs. Unable to believe Rumble is willing to share, but then they’ve always shared everything, haven’t they? Servos tightening on the counter until it cracks, Frenzy nearly whines. Watching Rumble slip free, leaving you slick, your thighs trembling slightly. Freeing his own spike, he smoothes a hand over your soft, warm skin. Amused, hungry eyes watch him grip your hips and tug you closer to the edge. “Not so tight,” you murmur, touching the back of his hands. “I won’t run.”

• And then he’s pressing into you, his spike stretching you. Big frame shuddering against you, servos tightening on you anyway. And then he’s pounding into you, thrusts much more urgent than his brother’s. Hooking your legs around him, reaching back to brace an arm against the wall so he doesn’t drive you backwards, you enjoy the ride. “Primus,” he snarls, hips pumping. “Primus, you’re so tight.” You have no idea who Primus is, but you’re still wound up, tipping over the edge with a cry as he ruts against you until he releases. As soon as he slips free, Rumble is pulling you down from the counter, back to your broken bed, coffee forgotten. You only get to the hall before you’re trapped between them, hands and mouths roaming all over you. They’re keeping you? Hell, you’re keeping them.

Previous

[nachrosas]

AUTUMN MEMOIRS | s.reid x reader

summary: in which spencer decided to take you to a cozy weekend in the countryside to relax after a difficult case. pairing: spencer reid x reader content warnings: mentions of past case, brief childhood mentions, a little bit of angst, teasing, praising (i think), oral sex (f receiving), dirty talking (one sentence tho), fingering (r receiving), nipple sucking, unprotected p in v sex (tap it before you do it), +18 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT WITH IT!! (i think this is all) word count: 4.4k a/n: hello hello! this is the first one-shot for the “nachrosas season” with the theme being autumn/fall! also this is the first time i wrote a long fic (+ 1.5k) and smut in a very long time (i think it’s almost 10 years), so please let me know if ends up good (still self-conscious posting this tho)! i had fun writing this and i really hope you guys like it! feedback is always appreciated! also, my inbox is always open to chat! till the next one! (also, want to thank @mggslover for encouraging me to write the smut of this fics!!)

For a few weeks now, all the houses in the quiet neighborhood — a very small number, by the way — had been decorated with orange and brown leaves falling from the surrounding trees. The few children and young people walking along the streets took the opportunity to play with the huge piles of leaves made by the residents of those houses — in a failed attempt to keep their yards clean and organized.

Spencer slowed the car as the trees opened up, revealing the cottage in front of them. Small but inviting, it looked like it had been taken out of an autumn painting, with its dark wooden façade framed by dried vines and surrounded by fallen leaves in shades of gold, copper, and red. The engine turned off with a soft roar, and a welcoming silence took over the room, broken only by the sound of the wind blowing lightly, swaying the bare branches of the surrounding trees.

You climbed down from the old but cozy car with a tired gesture and leaned on the door. You closed your eyes and a few memories still danced through your mind in flashes that you tried to forget in the past. Recalling them was never pleasant, especially about things that hurt you in some way and that you had no control over.

You opened your eyes and realized that Spencer had repeated your movements, stopping right next to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. “It's prettier than it looks in the photos, don't you think?” he commented with a serene smile lighting up his face, his eyes shining with a mixture of excitement and relief.

“Yes, it's perfect,” you replied, your voice almost a whisper, as if something in that place called for silence, for respect.

In the background, the sound of children's laughter reached both of them. They were a few meters away, but their voices echoed amid the stillness of the field. From a distance, you could see a little girl in a red scarf, who you guessed was no more than six years old, run up to a particularly high pile and dive into it, scattering leaves everywhere, while a little boy tried to catch up with her, laughing.

Spencer hugged your waist a little tighter and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment as if to record the smell of the air. “Smells like fall... dry leaves and wet earth... oh, and probably the fire in the cabin. Do you feel it?” he looked at you, with that enthusiasm you loved, a gleam of genuine curiosity that made everything seem more interesting.

“Yes, I do. And it's delicious.” you replied, with a small smile on your face, as you pulled on your jacket to protect yourself from the wind.

He let go of your waist and walked around the car to open the trunk, but not before looking at the cottage again, as if analyzing every detail. “The woodwork on the façade is well preserved. It's probably been restored recently… It's an interesting project, using rustic materials, but…”

“Babe.” you interrupted him with a laugh. “We came here to relax, not to do an architectural study.”

He laughed, a soft, relaxed sound, and closed the trunk, balancing two backpacks in his arms. “Okay, okay, you're right. I bet the inside is even cozier.”

You walked to the door, the sound of leaves crunching underfoot marking every step. The key turned in the lock with ease, and when Spencer pushed the door open, a pleasant warmth enveloped you, accompanied by the faint scent of burning wood and something sweet, which you quickly recognized as cinnamon.

“Welcome to our weekend getaway.” he said, placing the backpacks next to the door and looking at you with a satisfied smile. “Ready to start relaxing?”

You looked at him, at the delicately prepared fireplace in the corner of the room and at the strategically positioned sofa near the window that offered a perfect view of the golden countryside outside.

“Ready.” you replied, already feeling your shoulders relax as you closed the door behind you.

The crackling of the fireplace filled the silence of the cottage, casting dancing shadows on the living room walls, its comforting sound blending with the subtle howl of the wind outside. But you couldn't feel completely warm. You were sitting on the rug in front of the fireplace, your back against the sofa, wrapped in a soft blanket, your legs folded under your body. In your hands, she held a mug of tea that Spencer had insisted on making for you. The warmth of the fire and the steam rising in slow spirals seemed to ease the tension that had settled permanently in your shoulders since the last case, but the promised comfort seemed distant.

Spencer was sitting next to you, his legs stretched out on the floor, and one of his hands holding your thigh. He hadn't said much since you arrived, just enough to make sure you knew he was there. And now, in the silence of the cottage, it was impossible not to think about the case.

“I can't stop hearing that poor girl's voice,” you said, finally breaking the silence. Your voice sounded low, almost fragile, but firm enough to show that you were trying to confront your own thoughts.

Spencer turned to look at you but didn't interrupt. He knew you needed to get everything you were feeling out in the open.

“She looked… so scared, Spencer. So lost. And I… I told her everything would be okay. I promised her she'd be safe.”

“You did what anyone would do,” he replied softly. “And you did the best you could. Promises like that are… difficult, but they have a purpose. They give people a reason to fight, a hope to hold on to.

You shook your head, your hand squeezing his. “But she wasn't well! We couldn't get there in time. And the worst thing… was seeing her die like that and seeing how it hit me in a way I hadn't expected. That little girl could have been me. I saw so much of myself in her…” Your voice faltered, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to hold back the tears that insisted on escaping.

Spencer moved closer to you, lightly squeezing your thigh in an attempt to convey comfort and support. “You're absolutely right. It was personal. And that's why it hurts so much. But it also means that you care. You empathize with her because you have a huge heart, and that's not a weakness.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the security that his close presence conveyed, but the words still came, as if a dam had been opened. “I just… I can't deal with it for long. It's too heavy. And when it's personal like this, it feels like I'm carrying the whole world on my back.”

“Then you're not carrying it alone.” he said, his voice firm now, but full of tenderness. “That's what I'm here for. I always will be, even if you don't realize it. Even if you don't ask. And… you know that, don't you?”

You turned your head, meeting his eyes. There was an unwavering sincerity there, something that almost made your chest ache with how comforting it was. You nodded, finally allowing the tears to fall, because you knew that there, in the safety of that cottage and in Spencer's presence, you could be vulnerable.”

He smiled softly, wiping away a tear that ran down his cheek. “Now, how about we make a deal? The next two days are for you to heal. No pressure, no judgment. We'll go for a walk, cook, look at the stars... and if, in between, you need to talk more about the case, about her, or whatever you want, I'll be here, listening. Always.”

You took a deep breath and leaned against his body, feeling the weight of the moment begin to ease, even if just a little. “Thank you, Spencer.”

“No need to thank me,” he replied, squeezing your thigh a little harder. “You did the same thing for me when I was arrested, I'm just returning the favor.”

A few hours had passed since that conversation, and you couldn't tell if the weather was mild or cold. You knew it was 18°C, but you couldn't decide if it was really cold for you, since Spencer had re-lit the fireplace and the heat from the flames was taking over the room.

You could hear music coming from a few houses down the block. The area had few people and plenty of space. And you mentally thanked the cottage for being so far from the city.

Spencer was in the small kitchen, stirring something in a small pot with his usual precision. The scent of hot chocolate and cinnamon filled the air, bringing a soft nostalgia that warmed as much as the fireplace. He hummed softly, an almost imperceptible sound, but enough to draw a smile from you. 

“It's ready!” he announced, bringing two mugs to the coffee table. He placed one in front of you before sitting down next to you. “I know I've said this before, but let me make it clear again: this is officially a worry-free weekend. No work, no answering messages from Garcia, no worrying about the team, nothing. It's just us, the fire, and maybe some cookies, if you ask nicely.”

You can't help the laugh that escapes. “So you kidnapped me to fill me up with sugar and keep me from thinking too much?” 

“Basically.” he replied with a satisfied smile. “It's a foolproof plan.”

His smile was infectious, and for the first time in days, you felt the weight of the last case finally dissipate completely. You plopped down on the sofa, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you held the warm mug between your hands. On the opposite side, Spencer was relaxed, with his legs folded under him and his head slightly tilted, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“Did you know that in some cultures, autumn is considered a time for reflection and gratitude?” he began, his tone calm but charged with that peculiar enthusiasm that appeared whenever he shared something new. “In ancient China, for example, the Mid-Autumn Festival was a celebration of the harvest, but also a time to gather the family and enjoy the full moon.”

You arched an eyebrow, a smile appearing. “Let me guess, you know why the full moon is important?”

“Of course!” he replied, leaning forward excitedly. “In Chinese mythology, there's a legend about the moon goddess, Chang'e, who drank the elixir of immortality and went to live on the moon. During the Festival, people make offerings to the moon as a way of honoring her and celebrating the connection between heaven and earth.”

“You really know everything, don't you?” you joked, but there was genuine admiration in your voice.

Spencer shrugged, his eyes twinkling. “Not everything, but I like learning about traditions. It's fascinating how different cultures interpret the changing seasons. If you look at Europe, fall was seen as a period of transition, as if it were a moment between life and death. It's because of this that many transitions, such as Halloween, have their roots in rituals to honor the dead.”

You smiled and took a sip of your hot chocolate, letting the warmth soothe your throat before answering. “It's funny how something as simple as falling leaves can have so much meaning. I've never given it much thought, to be honest. I've always seen fall as… a reminder that the year is ending.”

Spencer tilted his head thoughtfully. “That makes sense. It's a period of closure, but also of preparation. Trees lose their leaves to conserve energy during the winter so that they can bloom again in the spring. A necessary cycle, you know?”

You watched him for a moment, admiring the way he saw meaning in everything. “You can turn anything into a life lesson, can't you?”

He laughed softly, scratching the back of his neck. “Maybe. But I think fall is special to me because it reminds me that change can be beautiful. Even when it seems like something is ending, there's always room for a new beginning.”

There was a comfortable silence after that, as you let his words echo through your mind. Then, leaning forward, you asked. “And what's your favorite memory of autumn?”

Spencer smiled, his eyes wandering as if searching through the archives of his mind. “When I was a child, my mother and I used to walk through the park near our house. She loved to quote romantic poets as the leaves fell. One time the wind was so strong that it lifted the leaves everywhere. She told me that it was as if the world was dancing to entertain us. I will never forget that.”

Your chest warmed at its memory, and you reached out for Spencer's hand to hold, giving it a gentle squeeze as soon as you found it. “It's a beautiful memory, Spencer. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

He smiled, squeezing your hand back. “And you? Any fall memories you like to recall?”

You paused to think, letting the moment linger. “I think mine is something simpler. I remember playing with leaves as a child, throwing them up in the air, and running through the trees. It wasn't anything big, but there was something magical about it, you know? And it ended up annoying my parents a bit,” you laughed.

Spencer nodded, his eyes fixed on yours. “That's what I like about fall. Little moments, full of meaning, even if they seem simple.”

You stood there, the warmth of the fireplace and each other's company filling the cottage with a rare and welcome tranquility. The comfortable silence continued for a few more minutes, with the sound of the wind outside and the warmth of the fire creating an almost hypnotic atmosphere. You stretched out your legs, letting the blanket slip off slightly as you watched the soft light from the fireplace illuminate the rustic walls of the cottage.

Spencer moved next to him, leaning over to pick up the mug he had left on the table. He took a sip, his distracted gaze lost for a moment in the movement of the flames. When he looked back at you, his eyes were filled with a serene calm, but also with something else - a closeness that went far beyond the words you exchanged.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, his tone almost casual, but the slight smile on his lips gave away that the question had more meaning than it conveyed.

“More than comfortable.” you replied, pulling the blanket over your feet again. “I can't remember the last time I felt so at ease.”

He nodded, his smile softening. “That's all I wanted for us. A place where we could just… exist. Without rushing. No worries.”

For a moment, you just stared at each other, and then you pointed to the rug in front of the fireplace. “I think I'll go closer to the fire. It's so cozy in there.”

Spencer smiled, watching as you got up and walked over to the rug, taking the blanket with you. He didn't take long to follow, bringing another cushion to settle down next to you.

As you settled in, the conversation dwindled, but each other's presence seemed to say enough. Spencer propped himself up on one elbow, watching you as the fire reflected in his eyes. You, for your part, remained mesmerized by the flames, allowing the calm of the moment to envelop you completely.

It was as if the world outside had disappeared, leaving just the two of you, the warmth of the fire, and the promise of a night that seemed to have something more in store.

Spencer held out his hand, his fingers gently brushing yours. The touch was so delicate that it almost seemed accidental, but when you looked at him, the look in his eyes said something else. He smiled sideways, a little shy but determined, before entwining your fingers in his.

“Come here.” he murmured, pulling you slightly closer.

You let yourself be guided until you were so close that you could feel the warmth of his body rivaling that of the fireplace. He slipped an arm around your waist, enveloping you in a hug that, although it started innocently enough, soon changed a few seconds later.

His hand gently pulled your waist, making you sit on his lap. You felt his breathing change, slower, deeper, as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart soar.

“You look so beautiful…” he whispered, almost as if he were talking to himself.

Heat rose to your face, but you didn't look away. It was impossible to ignore the way the glow from the fire danced in his eyes, making the moment almost magical. He leaned in slightly, their faces so close now that you could feel his warm breath against your skin.

“Spencer…” you murmured, but anything else you could have said was forgotten when he finally ended the distance between you.

The kiss began slowly, hesitantly, as if he was savoring every second. But soon, the intensity grew, a fire that seemed to reflect the flames in the fireplace. His hands gripped your waist more firmly, pulling you even closer.

You pulled away just enough to catch your breath, your eyes fixed on his. He smiled, that shy, adorable smile, but there was something else there now — a desire you'd never seen so clear before.

“If at any point you want to stop…” he began, but you quickly interrupted him, smiling as you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I don't want to stop, Spencer.”

And with that, you leaned in again, your movements surer now, as if you knew exactly where this would lead. You narrowed the space between the two of you, gluing your lips more fiercely to his. Spencer stood still in shock, since you had never kissed him so fiercely, and you closed your hand in his hair, running your tongue like a demand against his lips. Let me in. When Spencer came back to reality, he murmured something against your lips, his cold hand slipping under your sweater and dragging up your skin, higher and higher. 

Your kiss was interrupted as shortness of breath overtook you both. Spencer's breath Your breathing faltered when his hands stopped at your breasts, above your bra, gently caressing them. A restrained moan escaped your lips, causing Spencer to press his hand harder.

fueled your feelings, the taste of hot chocolate now a ghost between the two of you. You inhaled the scent of Spencer's perfume sharply, his heartbeat vibrating in your ears.

 “You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured into your skin and you finally feel his cool hand sliding across your skin.

“Spencer!” you shouted, pulling away from him.

He smiled. “I'm sorry, my love.”

He got up and sat back against the sofa, watching the way you undressed in front of him. Your jeans slid down your smooth legs, stopping calmly at your ankles as you bent down to take them off, and you quickly took off your sweater, revealing the lilac lingerie that Spencer loved so much.

You moved your hands to your bra, intending to take it off, but he stopped you. “Leave it on, you look even more beautiful with it on.”

Pulling you by the waist back towards him, one of his hands ran down and rested on your ass before giving it a spank. You stayed still, looking at him sitting on the floor.

“Have I mentioned that I love it when you wear this lingerie?” he says to you, running his fingers along the lilac lace.

“I know,” you smile.

Spencer pulled you down to lie on the floor again, this time sitting between your legs, one on each side of his body. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. Spencer pulled your pants aside, his gaze fixed on your pussy and, without warning, he slipped two fingers into you. The moan that came out of your mouth was like music to his ear.

His fingers curved upwards, and his back arched with an enormous sensation of pleasure that consumed his entire body. Your hand reaches down to grasp his wrist, but he gently pulls it away, using his free hand to pull your two hands together and rest them on top of your head.

“Behave yourself.” he tells you, adding a third finger.

You unconsciously spread your legs wider, giving him more room to get on top of you. Spencer's cheek touched the inside of your thigh, and he watched as your face contorted with pleasure and he smiled, 

Spencer felt your eyes on him, taking the lilac panties that were still on his body and gently pulling them down his legs, letting them fall to the floor with the rest of his clothes. He wants you to look at him. Your hips jerked when you felt his tongue against your clitoris, and you used your free hand to grab his hair.

He knew you like the back of his hand, so when you closed your thighs around his head, he held them in place while his tongue attacked your clitoris again.

Three fingers inside you and Spencer looked up, watching as you threw your head back, your eyes closed, and his hand, which he had previously held above your head, groping your breasts. Between the magic of his fingers and tongue, your orgasm was close to coming, and he knew it.

Spencer withdrew his fingers carefully and a groan of disapproval left his lips.

“Come here.” He stood up and patted his lap.

With his help, you managed to stand up. Your legs seemed to have turned to jelly as you climbed into his lap. Spencer's hands stopped on your ass, his fingers roaming up and down the curve of it. It was only then that he realized: you had already removed your bra.

Spencer brought his hands down to your stomach and sneaked his fingers up your skin until he reached your breasts again. He hummed, totally focused on your breasts and oblivious to everything that was going on around you. Holding his chin between your fingers, you pulled his face towards you.

“Please fuck me!” you murmured, a hint of desperation hanging in your voice. Spencer smiled, nodding with a look you'd seen on his face many times before.

Your hands went straight to the zipper of his pants and he helped you, pulling them down enough for you to get his cock out of his underwear. One of your hands rested on his shoulders, giving you physical support as you sank down onto him.

You went back to watching Spencer, watching as he spread kisses over your chest, lightly brushing over your breasts until he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, running his tongue over it. Your hand tangled in his hair again and a moan of his name escaped your lips.

His other hand passed over your hip until it reached your other breast, his fingers twisting and rolling your nipple gently between your thumb and forefinger.

“Spence.” you breathed, rocking your hips forward in response to all the stimulation you were receiving.

“Fuck, you're so perfect,” he said, closing his eyes. “Your pussy looks like it was made just for me.” His hand slapped down hard on your ass. Your lips found his neck, leaving a trail of marks and sloppy kisses all over the end of it. “Come on, Baby, come for me.” Spencer pleaded, knowing he wouldn't be able to hold off much longer.

Between the movements he made with his lips and the fact that his cock was hitting all the right spots inside you, he pushed you over the edge. The knot in your stomach loosened and Spencer watched as you came. The mixture of your come and a few more quick, sloppy thrusts, he came right after you.

The dim light from the almost extinguished embers still cast a few soft shadows across the cottage room as you stood entwined in front of the fireplace. The remaining warmth of the fire, combined with the heat emanating from Spencer's body against yours, created a delicious bubble of coziness that seemed to isolate you from everything that was happening outside. You could feel Spencer's calm breathing against your hair, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, and this, for you, made the situation even more perfect than it already was.

“I should have made more hot chocolate.” he commented suddenly, his voice slightly husky and a little sleepy, which made it all the more adorable.

You lifted your face to look at him, the corners of your lips curving up in an amused smile. “Hot chocolate?”

“Yes.” he continued, his eyes half-closed as he stroked your back in an unpretentious way. “Hot chocolate is practically obligatory on nights like this. The two of us together, fireplace on... it's definitely a classic.”

You laughed, leaning in to place a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I think you've just found the only flaw in this weekend.”

Spencer opened his eyes, feigning an expression of indignation as he tried to hold back his laughter. “Flaw? I think we've just made it even more perfect.”

The laugh that escaped your lips was like music to his ears, and he smiled in satisfaction as if it was the reaction he'd been waiting for. Spencer pulled you closer, kissing your forehead and murmuring against your skin. “I promise to make it up to you next time. With marshmallows and everything.”

“Oh, right,” you joked, giving him a smile. “I'll charge you.”

His smile softened, and for a moment, he just looked at you, his eyes shining with something that seemed like pure affection. “Are you happy?”

It was a simple question, but full of meaning, making your heart squeeze at the way he cared. You nodded, pulling the previously forgotten blanket over you both. “Very much. Thank you for that, Spencer. For knowing exactly what I needed, even when I didn't know it myself.”

He closed his eyes again, a satisfied smile on his face. “I'll always know. You're my favorite spot in any season, anywhere.”

With those words, the comfortable silence took over again. Little by little, Spencer's breathing became slower, and you realized that he was starting to fall asleep.

You smiled to yourself, snuggling further into his arms, while also letting the weight of tiredness carry you off to dreamland.

[gamorahww]

Why Fiyeraba Are Perfect for Eachother, According to science MBTI

Through their differences, authenticity, sense of what's right, and just overall being well-meaning people, these two are a great example of how you can lift someone up, just by being your most authentic self and holding space for them to do the same.

Hello, this is a Fiyeraba analysis no one asked for. It doesn’t contain any spoilers for Wicked: Part 2.

Disclaimer Regarding MBTI: I know many people think MBTI is bullshit and even a bit limiting, when we talk about real life, and the people inhabiting it, but in the case of well-written, consistent fictional characters (which applies to both Elphaba and Fiyero) I think MBTI can be used without worrying about negative effects. That being said, enjoy the analysis of Fiyeraba through this lense!

I.) Context, If You Are Not Familiar with MBTI

When it comes to MBTI, there are two angles of looking at the types. One you are probably familiar with is the four-letter abbreviation (ENFP, INTJ, ESTJ, etc), but there is a deeper layer, where we are looking at those cognitive functions that each type uses. There are 16 variations of the four-letter types, but only 8 functions, that vary in order, and preference in each type. 

We identify four main cognitive functions in each type. Introverted types (their four-letter type stars with an I) are most comfortable using their introverted functions, and extraverted types (their four letters start with an E) are most comfortable with their extraverted functions. However as a person grows up, goes through life and evolves, they learn to harness their initially weaker functions better, and this gives them a more well-rounded personality, and a more healthier way of living in the world and be their authentic selves.

The order of the functions is also important, so whatever is in first place is their strongest function, and whatever is their last is their weakest.

You may be looking at this thinking “I didn’t ask for this”. And you are right, you didn’t, but bear with me.

So, lets sum it up: Each four-letter type has four main functions, and the extraverts are good at extravert stuff, while introverts are good at introvert stuff. Got it!

Now that we have this nailed down, lets look at these beatiful idiots then.

II.) Fiyeraba and Their MBTI Types and Cognitive Functions

Elphaba is an INTJ. INTJs are nicknamed “masterminds” by some people, because they are really good at big picture stuff. Ironically more often than not, if a story requires a villain with a large plan, they do tend to be INTJs. INTJs make for great villains in people’s eyes, with their no-nonsense way of going around in the world, and in a society full of rules and norms, they stand out, no matter what they do. Some people like to see Elphaba as an ISFP, that would mean that her introverted feeling is stronger than her intuition, but I think those people are wrong lol. Just look at the matter of seconds it took for Elphaba to realize that the Wizard is a fake once she was face to face with him, and then making a plan, and running away. Also, the trope of "you see me as a villain, so I will become your villain" is a common INTJ character trope, and applies to Elphaba super well.

Fiyero is an ESFP. ESFPs are nicknamed as “performers” or “entertainers”. They are usually popular, bold, original, and very observant. They are often considered as shallow, and superficial, which they can be, if they don't focus enough on developing their inner world, their intorverted feeling and their intuition. They are often impulsive, seeking newness, but they can easily fall into this superficiality as a routine, if they are not challenged.

Elphaba - INTJ - cognitive functions: Ni-Te-Fi-Se

(Ni) Introverted Intuition: Dominantly seeks deep patterns, long-term vision, and abstract connections for strategic planning. - Elphaba is the only one who intuitively sees Fiyero being unhappy. Later, as soon as her blinders of false hope are lifted after changing the monkeys, she almost immediately puts two and two together.

(Te) Extraverted Thinking: Structures external environments logically, focusing on efficiency and execution. - From information fragments she gathers at Emerald City, with her thinking supported by her intuition, she puts together the Wizard not having any powers, and seeing through his scheme. 

(Fi) Introverted Feeling: Prioritizes internal values and authenticity in decision-making, though less visibly. - She has a strong sense of what's right, and would never chose what is good for her over what she thinks is the morally right thing to do.

(Se) Extraverted Sensing: Engages with sensory experiences and the present moment, though it’s less naturally prominent. - Once she decides she will fly, she does. She is very graceful, knows how to use her environment to her benefit, although she is a bit slow to take action.

Fiyero - ESFP - cognitive functions: Se-Fi-Te-Ni

(Se) Extraverted Sensing: Focuses on real-time sensory details, enabling adaptability, spontaneity, and a hands-on approach to life. - He's obviously an amazing dancer, and finds joy in the sensory experiences around him. He has no problems balancing on books, jumping off places, dancing, having good old sensory fun.

(Fi) Introverted Feeling: Guides decisions through personal values and emotions, fostering empathy and authenticity. - This function is somewhat dormant in him, although you can see that he cares very deeply for the animals, and feels the need to let Elphaba know that she doesn't have to be "galinda-fied". He appreciates her authenticity and it makes him work more on his own.

(Te) Extraverted Thinking: Organizes actions logically and efficiently to achieve tangible goals. - He is not booksmart, but streetsmart, he recognizes when it is safe to do something, and considers his environment before doing so. 

(Ni) Introverted Intuition: Recognizes patterns and long-term possibilities, offering introspection and strategic insight when developed. - Him calling out Elphaba on her defense mechanism is a very good example of him tapping into his intuitive side, although he doesn't do it very often.

Elphaba and Fiyero have the exact same cognitive functions, but in a completely reverse order: Elphaba: Ni-Te-Fi-Se Fiyero: Se-Fi-Te-Ni I highlighted their strongest functions as seen above.

Now, as I mentioned earlier, whatever function is in first place is the strongest in a person, and whatever is last is the absolute weakest. And while the first and third functions are more easily accessible to everyone (due to them being extraverted functions in an extravert, and introverted functions in an introvert) the very last one, well, it’s difficult to learn to use.

For Elphaba her weakest function is (Se), that Fiyero is amazing at. (Se) can be used to assess your environment on a sensory level, to see and hear what is where, to notice details in how things look. People with well developed (Se) are great at the physical things, like doing your stunts, or dancing, jumping etc.

For Fiyero, his weakest function is (Ni), that Elphaba is just a natural at. (Ni) helps you see patterns in the world around you, and it has been described lovingly by people online as “being able to see the future” (does that ring a bell?) but also by recognizing patterns, seeing a big picture, usually noticing things that other people don’t.

So obviously those are two functions, that one of them learns from the other, right? I mean they just learn how to tap into them. Although they probably don’t as much learn from eachother, but see the other using it, and it makes their own relationship to this under utilized part of themselves change, and improve because of it. But while that is amazing, and will come very helpful to them in act 2/part 2 that is not the aspect that they connect through. What I really want to talk about is…

III.) Connecting Through Authenticity and Values - Introverted Feeling aka (Fi)

Look, you read those two words, you may think, okay, so it’s about people feeling things, like that’s normal, right? Everyone has feelings, so what’s the big deal? No, that’s not what it’s about. (Fi) is about what is _right_. It’s your values, that you hold so deep, that you can’t and won’t cut it out for anything or anyone. It what makes you you, and it is people with (Fi) that usually speak up for marginalized groups, and do the right thing, even if it comes at a personal cost. Introverted feeling is integrity, and it’s authenticity.

And as you can see, Elphaba has this in third place, and Fiyero has it in second. Fiyero should be amazing at this, but his integrity? It’s actually a bit… asleep. Why?

Looping is a phenomena that we call when an introverted person uses only their introverted, or an extraverted person uses only their extraverted functions. It’s a stress response. A defense mechanism. It’s unhealthy, and painful, because yes, your second (and fourth) functions are difficult to develop, but  they are part of who you are, you can’t just shut them out, without cutting pieces out of yourself. Kids live with their first and third functions, and then it is believed that throughout teenagehood, we start to engage our second function more. But when something bad happens to us, we sometimes turn this second function off as adults or as teenagers, reverting back to childish behavior. It’s not for fun, and it never makes us satisfied.

Fiyero is looping, and the mindset he presents in Dancing Through Life is the textbook version of an ESFP in crisis. It is literally a song about that.

“Mindless” and “brainless” are not there to reflect on his lack of intellect, but the fact that he is not integrating these important parts of himself that he should to assess what is right, and he choses not to think about the world around him. He is skipping over that (Fi) as if it was another hurdle in his way, because probably, at some point he realized that his integrity and authenticity doesn’t really matter to the world around him. His values nobody cares about, despite him having everything handed over on a silver platter. 

Escaping the Loop. When Elphaba steps into his life, and he sees her standing up for the animals, that’s the moment, she jump-starts this part inside him. He’s been literally sleepwalking through life up to that point. It is on the levels of authenticity that these two characters are allowed to truly connect, and it is this authenticity and integrity that allows them to see past everything else. (“It’s not lying! It’s looking at things another way.” IYKYK)

IV.) Growing While Lifting Eachother Up

For Elphaba, her personal journey is a strange one. She literally grew up in another bubble, but her integrity has developed. She is well in touch with her cognitive functions, but she is living in a lie, so her bubble is a lie. The fact that she could go through life for so long, not realizing that something was broken in the world, apart from how she was personally treated, goes to show you, what a good job the Wizard did with his manipulation.

Once she really first sees the problems in Oz is with the lion cub in the classroom. You can see her trying to fight for it, raise her voice, ask others to join in, to help and nobody responds, only Fiyero engages with her, asking “I’m sorry, we?” See how Fiyero immediately takes it upon himself, although he was not addressed directly by name, or in any other way. She looked in the general direction of her friends, and he was the only one who responded at all.

Elphaba, tries to solve the situation with her tried and true and tested intuition, integrity, thinking, but she lacks something. She bursts out emotionally, putting the class to sleep, safe for one Fiyero. She needs someone to show her how to take action in that situation, and Fiyero steps in. By that time, Elphaba helped Fiyero engage his values again, so he jumps in to help, and almost literally drags her with himself, moving her out of her comfort zone and out of class.

Up to this point Elphaba was told by Morrible to harness those emotions, but she also put a limitation on Elphaba with those classes. She thinks acting on those feelings is not always right, but these are not just emotions, these are beliefs and values and things that are actually important to her, so keeping them quiet is not the right path. But these two characters complement eachother, and bring out the best in the other, without pushing down anything in each other.  They make eachother stronger and more capable. In the class, Fiyero pulls her out of the limiting mindset she put on herself, and other put on her, and they actually save a life together, and after this neither of them are the same again.

Fiyero starts thinking about what’s right. About the day with the lion cub, and the person he shared it with. He spends more time "inwards" and gives less care about the physical world, and what he thought was important before.

Elphaba leaves to Emerald City with Glinda, not realizing she will be tested, in more ways than she can imagine. And when, at the end of the day she faces a situation, where she needs to take action against the biggest odds she has ever faced, and with Morrible on the loudspeakers disparaging her, she doesn't listen. She doesn't allow those limitations back onto her, she just closes her eyes and leaps.

And when she does, Fiyero jumps on his horse, as the entire world is starting to close in around Elphaba, and goes to look for her.

I guess you could say that together they are actually unlimited.

[adioringhamzah]

idk if u take requests but it’s worth giving a shot lolll!!! you dont have to but im sooo in need of the idea of being friends with benefits with hamzah. like there are deeper feelings attached and both of them clearly like each other but neither know or can bring it up…. this could be a one shot or a series IDKKKK BUT ID BE SO GRATEFUL

when you started being friends with benefits with one of your best friends, hamzah, you didn't think you would catch feelings

a.n : fwb y/n x hamzah, fem reader, sfw : fluff & mentions of sex, no fc, might make it into a series with pt 2 being hamzah's pov but only if u want!

you’re scrolling on tiktok when a notification pops up from one of your dearest friends : hamzah. "can i come over pls pls? :((" you read, reacting quickly with a thumbs up.

you already know why he wants to come, and it’s definitely not to watch a movie or drink tea.

for almost a month now, your platonic relationship has turned into something more. or, not really... technically, you’re still just platonic friends, but now with a few added perks.

it all started when you both realized you were single and seriously touch starved, but not quite ready for a real relationship.

the whole thing came up during a random movie night, when you watched a film about friends with benefits. at first, it was just jokes– both of you laughing and pointing out how relatable the characters were.

but then… you started wondering, what if this actually works? and it turns out it does.

now, whenever one of you feels like it, you just send a quick text, pick a place, and that’s it. no strings, no mandatory daily good morning texts, no explaining where you’re going or who you’re with.

while waiting for him to arrive, you brush through your hair quickly, wipe the mascara that smudged under your eyes, and for a second, think about changing into something sexier.

but decide against it since you don’t need to impress him and feel comfier in your pyjamas anyway.

when you open the door, hamzah’s standing there in his "vote kanye" sweater (which, annoyingly, you kind of love) and oversize blue jeans.

you let him in without a word, and he kicks his uggs off like it's his own home.

“so, how was your day?” you ask as he sits down on your couch.

“boring as hell,” he says, stretching out, “you?”

“same,” you reply, sitting next to him.

you both look at each other and just know you’re about to make this boring day a little more interesting.

"so what did you have in mind?" you ask him.

"ermmm" he starts to mumble, slowly getting closer to you, leaving your question unanswered.

he places his big hand on your waist and moves you even closer to him, now both of you being just centimetres away from each other.

this is not the first time you've made use of those benefits, obviously.

in the one month you have been doing this, it almost always went the same : you make the shortest small talk, then start by making out, before getting a lot more intimate and you can probably guess the rest.

hamzah actually loves making you try sabrina carpenter's poses, which had become almost a ritual.

usually, there wasn't any awkward tension. it felt natural as if he were your boyfriend. but this time felt weirdly different.

being so close to hamzah made you feel somewhat shy. you can feel his gaze all over your body while you look into his dark eyes filled with excitement.

he seems to feel your discomfort, backing up a little and looking into your eyes, trying to decipher whatever's wrong with you.

you brush it off quickly, explaining you were just lost in your thoughts and he seems to believe you, now getting closer to kiss you.

if you're actually honest with yourself, this friendship might not be that platonic (on your side at least)... you've been friends for about a year, and it had been one of the best of your life.

he always seems to "get" you, and you could spend hours just playing overcooked or listening to lana while talking about whatever news you just saw on tiktok.

but since you became friends with benefits, you felt different around him.

before, you had always loved him–as a friend–and really appreciated his company.

truthfully, it was the kind of friendship where if he asked you to be his girlfriend, you probably would've said yes.

but obviously, it never happened, and you consoled yourself with knowing that those faint feelings you have couldn't be confirmed... until you had sex with him.

fantasising about you two together was one thing. and doing everything you wanted to do to him but as friends was completely another.

you can't tell him, but after he leaves, you always feel lonely. a boyfriend would stay the night, make you breakfast, and check in with you.

whereas for you, instead of date proposals or check-ins, you get sent silly tiktoks or the shortest texts asking you to come at your house. never mentioning the intimate moments you shared.

once he closes the door and you're left all alone, you can't help but reminisce about his muscled arms around your body or his veiny hands on your boobs.

or even his soft lips on yours and his faint smell of bleu de chanel cologne.

and now, with him kissing you, all these thoughts came rushing back.

you start playing with his hair–that smells incredible thanks to his shea shampoo–, trying to distract yourself while he continues kissing you as if it was the cure to all of his problems (he must have a lot of those).

moreover, you can't help but feel jealous seeing his followings : a girlfriend could have a say in that. but you can't, and have to listen to him talking about whatever pretty girl he saw on his fyp.

but you aren't quite ready to give up on those benefits...

after all, what if hamzah has those hidden feelings for you too?..

next part

i hope u liked it!! also i love getting all of your feedback and what you thought of it, and tysm for the anon that requested this <3

[avelera]

(Arcane Meta) Mel Medarda does not dislike Viktor and she's not biased against him

I feel like I'm seeing some rehashed arguments leftover from S1, but I see some wild (to me) claims that Mel dislikes Viktor, or looks down on him as a person from the undercity or for being poor, or that Mel is jealous of Jayce's time and wants to keep him all to herself. These are all wild to me because we have canon refutations of every single point that people seem to be ignoring.

Mel does not dislike Viktor. At most, she might be neutral towards him and, at worst, on one (1) occasion saw him as an ideological opponent to one of her goals. We have evidence of this in canon in her reaction to hearing that Viktor is dying and in the scene when he's in the Hex cocoon and she comes to check on him and reassures Jayce that, "He will come back to us." How close she feels to him is up to interpretation, but she shows concern for his wellbeing and genuine care for his recovery.

We have no evidence Mel looks down on Viktor, and why would she? The first time she would have met him would be as Heimerdinger's assistant, a respectable position, and then as the co-founder of Hextech. Viktor may not be Noxian royalty but he has never been low-status when she's known him. As Mel said, "No one is expendable, that's what this is all about." We don't have any evidence or scenes that show Mel dismissing someone she's met in person just because of their birth.

And on that point about being Noxian, Mel is not from Piltover. She is, technically, a political refugee/exile from Noxus, albeit a wealthy one which obfuscates for many the fact she is a refugee. She cannot go back to her home country, as far as she knows.

Mel came to Piltover as a young adult. She wouldn't have grown up with Piltover biases. She'd have her own biases as Noxian, to be sure, and like many people of extreme privilege, I have no doubt that Mel can overlook people in need like the undercity or see people who are wealthy and/or political players as more important to her goals, but automatically ascribing class or cultural biases to her the way Caitlyn and Jayce have them innately towards the undercity as citizens of Piltover who grew up there, is making up a bunch of stuff that just isn't there in the text.

Mel never shows possessiveness of Jayce, quite the opposite, especially when it comes to Viktor. When she hears Viktor is dying, she immediately says that Jayce should leave her to go be by Viktor's side. She never questions why Jayce is taking care of Viktor when Viktor is in the Hex cocoon. She never chastises Jayce for leaving the Council in its time of need (even though she'd have reason to there!) or for leaving to take care of Viktor. She never demands Jayce's time for personal reasons and she never badmouths Viktor. She completely understands the importance of their bond (however you view that bond) and the only thing she advises Jayce to do when she visits him after he abandoned the Council to go help Viktor is go check in with other important people in his life after the bombing, like Caitlyn, who lost her mother, and Jayce realizes Mel is right because she's more adept with people than he is, and realizes he's been neglecting other people in his life who are hurting.

The one scene people use to say that Mel dislikes Viktor is this one, where she encourages Jayce to create defensive Hextech weapons. People use the fact that when Viktor tells her absolutely not, she gives him a disappointed look, and then refocuses her efforts on persuading Jayce, who is the easier target and the more effective one because he has more power.

Personally, I don't see that as disdain at all, it's just practical. Mel has a goal. Her goal is Hextech weapons (a goal she will later walk back when she realizes the consequences). Viktor is unmovable on this point. Jayce is not AND if he agrees, he has the power as a Councilor to make them happen. He could probably also persuade Viktor too, which Mel has zero chance of.

Mel's disagreement with Viktor here to me should not be read as her feelings on him in their totality, it is an ideological one separate from whether or not they care for each other as people. Mel is entirely able to separate those two things as a mature, intelligent, and extremely skilled-with-people person.

(Viktor, on the other hand, has disliked her since the start and sees her as a threat, especially with her influence on Jayce. But that's another essay entirely.)

[1d1195]

The Lottery IV

Read The Lottery here | ~6.2k words

From me: we're getting close to the end I think

Warnings: angsty/fluffy/pining nonsense. Slow burning love

Summary: Harry loves to help her. She loves to help him. The whole town knows he loves her. They wish he would admit it.

Just like Christmas, she was out and about in the middle of the summer solstice festival. She helped organize a wiffle ball tournament for the younger kids and convinced Harry to make hot dogs and hamburgers to hand out in the middle of the field. She was at the diner bright and early making her way behind the counter and grabbing pitchers that Harry used for water to make batches of lemonade.

Why he didn’t say no, baffled her. But to Harry it was obvious.

They were sipping lemonade on the curb outside his diner. They were watching people eat and chat. There was music and dancing. It was warm and the air smelled like barbeque and bug spray. The sun was setting, and she looked so pretty. Tanned, hair pulled back through a baseball hat, and her legs stretched into the road. Harry wasn’t going to sit outside and deal with the festival at all, but she was there, so he had little choice in the matter. But as happy as he felt (inwardly—God forbid Harry smile) he wondered why she didn’t have a happier look on her face. “What?”

She hesitated for only the briefest moment. “Do you... know anything about fireworks?” She asked.

He stared at her. He was already ahead of her and knew exactly where her questioning was going to lead next, but he was a glutton for punishment. Or just really wanted to see her smile because she was happy. “Not particularly,” he mumbled.

She pouted. Her fingers went to the little moon charm around her neck, and she rubbed her thumb over it, like a nervous habit. Or a worry stone. “I guess the person who dropped the fireworks off didn’t get the memo he was supposed to stay to help set them off.”

Maybe if she was touching anything other than the necklace that Harry got her, he would have said no. (Although probably not.) It was like it was a comfort to her and it made him a little too happy knowing she was using it as a coping motion whether she realized it or not. In fact, if it was subconscious, it made Harry like it more—even almost a little possessive in nature. With a deep sigh, Harry pushed off the curb and headed toward where he knew the fireworks were being set off. “You don’t have to help,” she called from behind him.

“Are y’gonna set them off, Peach?” He questioned; his eye roll could be heard without having her look back at him to see it. “You’ll blow y’hand off.”

She smiled sweetly to herself, smoothing her finger over the moon charm once more. “Did you see the moon today?” She asked and pointed toward the crescent that wasn’t much different than the one around her neck.

He looked at it briefly. “S’nice,” he answered sincerely as he could because he was focused on the fireworks and how he would get her away because he would lose his ever-loving mind if she got injured. People called out to her, and she waved like she was the mayor. She was one of the nicest people Harry had ever met so it wasn’t surprising that people adored her, but it was pretty crazy that she chose one of the grumpiest people to befriend. She looked fondly at the moon as they walked, nearly not paying attention to her footpath, so Harry grabbed her wrist before she tripped and fell over another curb.

“Sorry,” she shook her head and focused on their walk and glanced briefly at it once more before. Longingly, like she wouldn’t see it again.

“Do y’know what the outline around the moon is?” He asked, wondering if he could distract her so she would still be able to talk about the moon but not nearly break an ankle on the ground. “I’ve always wondered.”

She nodded. “It’s called earthshine. Basically, the light from the sun bounces off the earth and reflects on the moon that’s not illuminated by the sun.”

“Cool,” he said simply.

She smiled. “I’m a little weird about the moon, hmm?”

“Why do you think that?”

The smile on her pretty face disappeared and she shook her head. “No reason, just... I think I can be a lot sometimes.”

Harry wished they weren’t about to set off fireworks and they were in the privacy of his diner or her house or something. But really what would he have actually said if they were alone? It’s not like he would confess his feelings for her. The anger he felt toward whoever made her feel like a lot made his chest ache. The shyness on her face made him feel sick. She wasn’t a lot. Or if she was, she should have been a lot, proudly.

But they weren’t alone, and Harry wasn’t going to tell her how he felt anyway. “Well, there’s worse thing t’be a lot ‘bout than the moon,” he shrugged.

“Not the pancakes though,” she grinned sweetly, the brief look of sadness in her eyes replaced by her usual playfulness.

The smirk on his lips didn’t match the smile he felt on the inside. “I thought we were talking ‘bout y’being a lot. Not high maintenance.”

“Harry Styles!”

He shrugged, uncaring at his backhanded comment. He continued on trying not to think about how pretty she looked when she talked about things she loved. Tried not to think about the retroactive heart ache in his chest. Or maybe it was predicting the future because someone as pretty and lovely as her could only break his fragile heart.

But he also noticed that the tiniest bit of hope was blooming inside his ribcage because she was so pretty and lovely. It would be worth the heartache. Right? She would be worth it.

So, Harry kept quiet and focused on the fireworks. Hundreds of exploding colorful things and not a single one of them had anything to do with the ones that illuminated the sky a little while later.

*

Harry’s phone rang mid-evening. He was reading a book and had the football game on from the morning. It was the perfect kind of night. But of course, when he saw that Peach was calling, he didn’t have a choice. She never called. She texted and texted. Sent him pictures of the moon on her grainy camera and the cute little dogs that she saw in the city some days. Sometimes she sent him links to recipes she thought he should try for breakfast and honestly, he was a shitty friend because he typically ignored most of them. Sending only a thumbs up emoji or an okay if she asked for help.

So, Harry assumed she was dying in that moment.

“Hello?” He answered quickly fear starting in his chest before he could stop it.

“I don’t know what’s happening! My washing machine is freaking out and it’s overflowing, and I don’t know what to do!”

Harry was relieved and also halfway out the door the moment he said hello. “M’on m’way.”

There was a knock on the front door about five minutes after she called Harry. “It’s open!” She knew she was going to get a lecture about leaving it unlocked again. But Harry came right in. She was busy with every towel she owned creating a barrier around the floor of the laundry room (a small little space, hardly bigger than a closet) and kept the water from creeping into the hall.

Harry didn’t even come near her he headed straight for her basement. Within moments the water stopped dripping, and she sighed with relief. “I turned y’water off.”

“Fuck, why didn’t I think of that,” she frowned. “Sorry you came all the way over,” she pushed the towels into the closet sopping up the mess as best she could.

“D’you have a wet vac?”

“A what?”

He rolled his eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

Ten minutes later, Harry returned, knocking and walking in. “You don’t have to knock, Harry.”

“S’polite,” he muttered. “Move,” he pushed her gently out of the way, plugged in the vacuum, and sucked up the water. She rubbed her temples as he turned it off and twirled the cord back up into a neat circle.

“I can’t even wash these,” she grumbled. “Oh my God, I used every towel,” she groaned.

“I’ll take ‘em,” Harry shrugged. “Wash ‘em for you,” he offered.

“Harry, I can’t have you do my laundry.”

“S’not like m’washing your underwear, Peach. S’jus’ towels.” She tried not to think about Harry touching her underwear. But it was very difficult. Fortunately, Harry was focused on the task at hand, grabbing a trash bag to put her sopping wet towels in for transport. “Are y’doing some home improvements?” He asked looking at the few boxes of soft close drawer slides.

“I think I put too much stuff in one drawer in the kitchen. It kinda broke. So, I figured I could revamp all of them and that it would make me sift through stuff I no longer need or want. The bathroom drawer was sticking anyway, so it made sense to fix them all.”

“Do y’need help?” He asked. She bit the inside of her lip. It felt like she had been waiting to ask Harry if she could borrow his drill. But that seemed so rude to just outright ask him. He was a busy guy, and she was more than willing to do it herself, but she knew he would insist on helping.

Plus, there was the whole Ronan side of things.

“Peach?”

How long had she been silent while Harry kindly packed up her towels? Why did she feel guilty about dating someone else around him? Was Harry getting hotter by the second or was that a trick of the light?

“We’re... friends right?”

Harry blinked. “I don’t think a stranger could get me t’dress as Santa,” he rolled his eyes and stared at her. “S’matter? I can pop these in for y’in a minute,” he nodded toward the boxes again.

“Well, thank you. But I would really like to do it,” she admitted. “I don’t want to take advantage of your help, and I like to believe I’m independent.”

“Peach, y’own a whole business and house. S’not like y’jus’ wait around for me t’do stuff for you. M’still miffed y’cleaned your own gutters after I said I would do it.”

“Yeah, but it’s gross,” she reminded him. “You had your own gutters to do and everyone under the sun would ask you.”

He rolled his eyes again ignoring her rationale. “We’re friends, of course.”

Her heart skipped a beat. It almost bothered her that they were friends. Only friends. She looked at her feet. “I’m kind of seeing someone. Hasn’t been long. Only four or so dates. Only dinner and movies. But I didn’t tell you because... I don’t know. I didn’t tell anyone to be fair. Just Bailey, actually. I don’t know the protocol for dating around here because it feels like I need the whole town to approve of him like it’s my business venture all over again. And I don’t know, I know that I’m friendly and stuff and everyone likes me, but I think you’re my only real friend here and I don’t think I need anyone else’s approval except yours and I think that makes me a shitty friend.”

It was so quiet she thought that maybe Harry just left while she rambled. She knew why she needed Harry’s approval. It would mean that he didn’t like her in that way. That the way she liked him wasn’t reciprocated and it was a good thing that she was dating. Her pining would be quiet and hidden. The way it had been since she moved to town and made him make her pancakes even though he didn’t want to. Even though she was a pain in the butt and made him dress like Santa and made him set off fireworks when he didn’t really want anything to do with town events.

Finally, she peered up from her feet and looked at Harry and his confused expression. His eyebrows pinched together. His eyes searching her curiously. “Why d’you need my approval t’date someone? S’your love life,” he shrugged. “If he’s nice t’you, I won’t have a problem with him,” she wondered if he knew how much that meant to her. Apparently, she was hoping for his approval more than she truly realized. She nearly choked on the breath she was holding as she released it. “M’gonna put this in m’truck. D’you have a drill or do y’need mine?” He asked hauling the wet towels toward the front door.

“Yours,” she croaked.

*

Harry shouldn’t have been surprised that she was dating. She was so lovely. Inside and out. There was no other way to describe it. Sure, she was beautiful outwardly, but it only reflected a fraction of how stunning her personality was. Even the annoying parts. It made his chest pinch with jealousy every time he thought of the stupid (that was Harry’s code word for lucky) man that held her affection.

Fortunately for Harry, Ronan didn’t last much longer. “It just didn’t click,” she shrugged over her white chocolate chip and peach pancakes one morning when Harry asked her why she looked upset.

“M’sorry, Peach,” Harry frowned. “S’on me today,” he assured her.

“You can’t give me free food every time I have a breakup. I suspect you’ll lose money at that rate,” she said with a tone of self-deprecation that Harry couldn’t truly believe was coming from her voice. “I think I’m destined to be alone,” she sighed. He snorted before he could stop it. Reached across the counter and squeezed her forearm.

“I simply don’t believe that,” he said reassuringly. She blinked at Harry’s willingness to touch her arm unprompted and before she knew it, he was gone, back to the grill to make more food.

What she couldn’t see was the absolutely delighted smile on his lips—completely on display in private—at the thought of her breakup.

*

She dated a few guys over the years. But Harry’s confidence in her ability to find someone seemed unfounded. Each one ended in a breakup. Only one in particular made her heart ache for longer than the others. Even Harry treated her differently for that month of moping in her own way. She didn’t banter as much. It made Harry ache with want for her attitude, quips, and annoyingness.

Each time Harry comped her pancakes and reassured his friend that she was destined for love whether she believed it or not.

Small town life wasn’t for the guys she brought to the little place with so many traditions and parties. They didn’t earn the approval of everyone in town but the only approval she needed was that of her best friend.

"When’s Louis coming back?” She asked.

Harry hated when Louis came back now. He used to love seeing his friend and getting to be himself around someone that didn’t treat him differently just because he was heartbroken and damaged the way the rest of the town did.

“Never,” he rolled his eyes.

She frowned and immediately reached for the moon charm on her pretty throat. “I miss him.”

“Well, I don’t like when y’two are together. S’trouble. Y’both are mean.”

“Are you saying that because we make fun of your grumpiness together?” He glared at her over his shoulder and headed to the back to get the pitcher of coffee he made for her the day before as he always did. Despite the fact that she was a pain in the butt and made fun of him with his (supposed) best friend. “You’re different when he’s around,” she said when he returned pouring the coffee into a reusable cup because she would be on the go soon enough. Although, the way she settled in with her laptop, notebook, and everything else spread across the seat next to her and her own spot, Harry wasn’t sure when her reading hour began today. It looked like she was staying for the morning, which would have delighted him.

There was hardly any room for the breakfast he was going to bring out though—fortunately it was a muffin day so she wouldn’t need much room. Today she wore a Dr. Suess hat—like the one the Cat in the Hat wore. She had drawn whiskers on her cheeks and a cute red triangular nose too. She was so fucking cute it was unbearable for Harry sometimes (almost always).

“Different,” he repeated trying to stop the swelling of his heart as he looked at her. He smacked her hand as she reached for the cream and sugar behind the counter, loosening the swell and reminding him not to drool.

“You smile more. Same when Gemma visits. I think you are hiding some nice memories in there,” she poured cream into the liquid and tapped the side of her head with her freehand. “I’ve heard rumors since I’ve moved here that you got some bad ones too,” she shrugged casually as if those bad memories weren’t the reason he was a sour person. “I like when they’re around. I like when other people get to see the real Harry, not the one that’s been hiding behind your grumpy face.”

“How do y’know m’not the real Harry?” As far as he could tell his grumpy persona was the only one that he had left to show.

She shrugged again. “Real grumpy people don’t dress up as Santa or supply lemonade for the whole town. Nor do they do things for their annoying friend and comp her breakfast when she gets broken up with.”

She grabbed the muffin, turned and headed for the exit. “Peach? Your stuff?”

“Oh, I’ll be back. I just have reading hour,” she grinned over her shoulder, truly as chaotic as the Cat in the Hat was.

“You’re not serious,” he followed after her as she crossed the street toward her shop stopping in the middle of the road but it wasn’t like there were enough cars to worry about getting run over. “Y’can’t leave your stuff on the counter!”

“It’s only an hour, Harry. I’ll be right back!”

“M’not watching it! If it gets stolen, m’not responsible!”

“If someone in this town wants to steal my stuff, they can have it!” She shouted without turning around and entered her shop.

But she knew Harry was going to watch it anyway.

*

“Miss Peach, are you any good at trigonometry?”

She was behind the check out counter, reading from her book monitoring the study group. People were reading and a couple were stacking books in their arms. “Hmm,” she pursed her lips. “It’s been a long while since I thought about trigonometry, Lea,” she headed to the reference section to see if she could find a textbook to help them. She pulled a chair up beside the pair of girls who were working.

Harry was outside, fixing the Christmas lights to the front of her window. “Harry is in love with you,” Lea whispered.

She blushed. “He’s just my friend,” she said and flipped through the pages looking for something useful that would help them solve their problem.

“I wish I had a friend like Harry,” Maryam muttered.

She snorted and then smiled. “He’s a good one.”

“Do you like him?” Lea asked.

“Do I like one of my very best friends? Yes. Of course I do.”

“Miss Peach,” Maryam rolled her eyes.

“Harry’s so easy to read,” Lea whispered. There was a pair of boys at the other end of the big square table. They were “studying” watching highlight reels from yesterday’s game. “You’re much more difficult. Plus, you do the whole dating thing,” she explained.

“It absolutely tortures Harry,” Maryam agreed.

“Hey Peach, d’you have another string of lights?” He asked from the doorway. “This one y’gave me is half out.”

She frowned. “I’ll have to go buy another string later.”

“I’ll go,” he shrugged and headed out just as quickly.

“Smitten,” Maryam sighed.

“Completely,” Lea agreed.

“This looks like the diagram you’re working with,” she diverted back to the textbook and focused on the numbers and letters of her homework problem and not the bit of hope that filled her lungs at the thought of Harry liking her in that way. If there was a chance of having him all to herself,she never would date another man the rest of her life.

*

Harry helped stock books when a new shipment came in, which was great because he was much more focused than she was. She had to read the back cover of any new book, and it took her twice as long to unpack them all. “What do you like to read?”

He shrugged. “Bit of everything.”

“Do you have something to recommend to me?” She asked putting only one lone book on the shelf when Harry had set up at least two whole sections of shelves in that time. She stocked essentially one or two of each book that arrived at her store. It wasn’t a massive bookstore, so space was of course limited. But if someone wanted to buy it she would order more.

Harry watched her reading the back cover of the next book, her fingers around the moon charm once more sliding it gently back and forth along the chain. She looked so at home surrounded by books and so relaxed. She dropped the charm and reached for her coffee to sip it. Harry wanted to take a picture of her because this was completely her element; it needed to be preserved for all of time. “Uh...”

“It doesn’t have to be anything personal. I get wanting to hoard a book that means a lot to you. It’s kind of like asking someone to watch your baby for the first time. You don’t want anything to happen to it,” she offered. “I just thought I’d ask. I don’t really know what kind of books you like,” she smiled. “I would love to stock stuff for you.”

“Uh...” he shook his head struggling to come up with a title. He cleared his throat. “I read sort of depressing books,” he focused on stocking the next shelf.

She frowned, her fingers immediately finding the charm around her neck again. “Well, that’s okay. I prefer the term cathartic, perhaps? Books are meant to make you feel but I don’t think they’re meant to make you feel depressed,” she shrugged. “I read The Tattooist of Auschwitz and that is by far one of the saddest books I’ve ever read but it might be one of my favorites.”

She watched Harry carefully place the books on the shelves. He was taking great care not to bend any covers. He was gentle. This was important to her and ergo it seemed important to him. “I don’t think I have any titles t’share,” he shrugged.

She nodded. “That’s fine, I just wanted to ask.”

“Do y’have The Tattooist of Auschwitz?” He asked quietly. She smiled, nodded excitedly and scampered to behind the checkout counter. There was a pile of books beneath the cabinets—her own personal collection of favorites that she liked to keep there as backups if she wasn’t in the mood to dive into something new. Or if a student at the high school needed a book for a project and she happened to have it and it wasn’t going to be ordered in time.

Or if Harry needed a copy of one of her favorites.

“It’s a pretty quick read, but God does it make you feel.” He turned it over in his hands. Like he was holding her baby in his hands as she had said. This book meant something important to her and she was passing it off to him. “I hope you’ll like it, but I won’t be offended if you don’t.”

Harry couldn’t imagine a scenario in which he wouldn’t like her baby. “How much?”

“Oh, that’s my copy,” she said. “I can order you one, if you want your own. But you can have that one for now.”

He tucked it carefully beneath his jacket on the back of a nearby chair. The box of books in front of him needed organizing. They went back to their quietness of Harry stocking books, her reading the back of one for every row of books Harry completed, and her fingers danced along the chain around her neck.

*

Like everyone else, she noticed the diner had been closed for three days. It didn’t even have the opening late sign that every once in a blue moon appeared merely because he had an appointment or was sleeping late (because he deserved it! She told everyone who complained) or the delivery was coming in later than expected and it didn’t make sense to open without food or dealing with it partway through the breakfast rush.

But three days with no communication from him of any kind and no sight of him, made her a bit anxious. Harry was often in her house without warning before she arrived home—fixing something for her that she didn’t even know needed fixing. Or because she had mentioned something in passing that wasn’t working up to snuff. Any time she bought a lightbulb, it seemed Harry knew, and he was in her house testing all light switches and lamps to find the culprit.

All of that meant she felt entering his diner without asking seemed like it was only fair (and legal as far as their friendship went.) The silence in the usually bustling little place didn’t feel right though. She missed her friend (and the pancakes). But mostly arguing with her friend and the smack on the back of her hand when she reached for the cream and sugar that dare she say she missed for the last three days.

“Harry,” she sang making her way back toward the apartment behind his shop. “Honey, I’m home!” She cooed. She hadn’t been back here before but found the little hallway that led behind the back of the diner and to the door to what had to be his living space.

She knocked and opened it without waiting for a response.

One look and it hardly looked like he was home. She frowned, feeling bad that she was intruding but then she heard a cough.

“Harry?” She asked.

Slowly his tall body appeared. It was obvious he didn’t feel well. He covered his mouth with the crook of his elbow, his hair in disarray. His eyes shiny with sleep and the exertion of coughing so hard it made his eyes water. He looked exhausted.

“Oh my,” she murmured. “Are you alright?”

“How did y’get in?” It felt like knives scraping against every inch of the inside of his throat to speak. He winced as she pushed past him.

“Jesus. No talking. Come sit down,” but she was already pulling him to his couch. Like she had been here a thousand times even though it was the first time she set foot back here in all the years she had known him. She fluffed the pillows around him and tossed a blanket over him. Harry hadn’t had someone care for him while he was sick since he was young—since his mom and Gem tended to his stomach bugs and during his yearly cold and flu season. “You are so obvious and hide the key under the mat. Thought you were slick painting it black to match but I’ve seen you use it before. Everyone has been worried sick about you—me included. You could’ve let me know if you were sick; I would have been over a lot sooner,” he noticed how disappointed she sounded in him, and he felt sorry that he made her worry. But he didn’t want her help. If she were to get sick, he would feel so guilty. He didn’t want her to feel shitty like he did.

It took a lot more energy to get out of bed than he thought it would when he heard her sweet voice calling for him beyond the quiet space between sleeping and dreaming. He opened his mouth to speak but she shushed him before a syllable could leave his lips. “Uh-buh-uh. No talking. I’m serious. Text it,” she offered handing her phone to him.

This is the first day I’ve been able to get out of bed in three days. My voice has been gone for three days.

She read it and nodded. “Doctor?”

He shrugged. I’ve had it before. She nodded again.

“Alright. Well...soup it is,” she said standing. Harry grabbed her arm before she was out of reach. The exertion did feel like a lot.

He shook his head. You don’t have to do that. I don’t want you to get sick.

She rolled her eyes. “Well, I don’t want you to be sick. No one has made me breakfast in three days,” she reminded him. He smiled despite himself. “Do you have medicine?” She asked. He looked at her phone ready to type out that he didn’t, but he knew that it would just make her madder. She sighed, distaste evident in her soundless tone and breath. “Alright, I’m going to go get food for soup and medicine. Don’t move, yeah? Drink some water.”

If it wasn’t obvious, Harry had no choice but to obey her.

“Where’s your phone?” He couldn’t remember at all, there was a strong possibility it was dead. “I’ll call it,” she said, and she walked around his house listening for the sound of it. “A-ha!” She sounded triumphant. “You only have a peach for my contact?” She giggled. “You know the emoji is slang for a butt, right?” He rolled his eyes, but the motion hurt his head. He winced again at the pain. “Alright, I’ll lay off the annoyingness,” she smiled sadly. She reached for a charger. “I like this table,” she mumbled as there was a plug built into the top of it, so it was easy for her to plug his phone in. “I’ll be right back, but text me if you need something.”

His voice was gone. He looked exhausted from lack of sleep because he couldn’t stop coughing. She made herself at home in his place. She made him homemade soup and he realized he had never had any of her cooking beyond anything she chose to bake and share with the town.

Within an hour he was eating hot soup it felt like heaven on his throat. She sat at one end of the sofa slurping broth and scrolling through her phone and Harry couldn’t help but feel like she belonged in his personal space. It felt so right. He sets his soup aside for a moment. Feeling a little more aware and awake with food in his system.

Not to mention it was fucking delicious.

This is really good, thank you. I didn’t know you could cook...Why don’t you make your own breakfast?

“I wouldn’t get to bug you every day,” she smiled so sweetly and fluttered her lashes at him. He rolled his eyes, and it didn’t hurt this time. “Do you want me to make my own breakfast?”

He answered too quickly. No. That’s not what I mean.

“So, you would miss me?”

He sighed and even though he was sick, she could feel his exasperation as he stared at her with an irritated expression. But it’s one that she loved. She loved his grumpy face because no matter how grumpy he appeared; she could see the smile hiding in his eyes. Every single time. And she’d look into those green eyes for the rest of her life and see those hidden smiles if it meant she could be friends with Harry for forever.

No. I would miss... he paused while trying to finish the sentence before holding his phone out to her to read. annoying someone.

She smiled brightly. “Yeah? That so?”

He nodded.

“Well, you don’t annoy me. So maybe I will make my own breakfast from now on.”

He frowned. The expression on his face changed. It was a bit forlorn. His eyes don’t have the same smile as she could spot a mile away. He knew she was kidding but was he... hurt? By her teasing? He really would miss her?

He didn’t think he would have to say it, but...seeing her every day since she moved to town five years ago...and then...not seeing her? It would hurt. Don’t be like that. I’m sick.

Her laughter filled his little apartment, and he never felt so much adoration for someone. “Don’t worry. I don’t own a coffee maker—you won’t get rid of me that easily.”

Something occurred to him in that moment, and he didn’t want to ask, but he would feel bad if he didn’t. Travis... doesn’t mind you’re here?

She smiled sadly. “Travis didn’t last long. I’m all yours, Harry,” she gave his knee a squeeze and headed to the kitchen to continue being an angel or something more for him.

He smiled and rather enjoyed having someone take care of him for a change.

Or maybe it was just because it was Peach taking care of him.

*

The following morning, Harry felt a lot better. His throat still ached but it wasn’t as bad as the previous days.

Then Harry realized very quickly that there was noise coming from the diner. A lot of noise. The kind of noise that only the early morning rush could muster. And laughter.

So much laughter that Harry honest to God felt happy, nostalgic, and like laughing for the first time in a really long time. He imagined waking up and hearing the very same kind of happiness and laughter from the other room before he bolted to find his mum and the entire town existing and enjoying the morning breakfast routine.

But then he figured maybe Peach had knocked the sign off when she came in with arms full of food and medicine yesterday and people were waiting for breakfast thinking that he was up and at ‘em again. He put on clothes as quickly as he could with his head feeling like a balloon still. He hurried to see what the commotion was because it seemed weird that everyone would be in the diner when he distinctly had it closed, and he wasn’t there.

When he entered, everyone stared at him. “How are you feeling Harry?” Alice asked.

He blinked in surprise at everyone eating and chatting as if it were normal to be there without Harry. “How did—”

“Hi Harry!”

Ah.

She appeared from the kitchen carrying plates of food and settling them on the tables as she passed. She marched right up to Harry after and pressed her hand to his forehead. If he wasn’t already flushed from being ill, his cheeks would have turned red as everyone witnessed her touching him. No one ever touched Harry. No hugs, no high fives, nothing.

But of course, she was different. Perhaps everyone knew that. They kept their smiles to themselves, and she grinned. “I hope you don’t mind. I told everyone I can make bacon, eggs, home fries, and toast without setting the place on fire. But everyone was missing you and the diner.”

There wasn’t a chance in hell these nice, sweet people missed his grumpy self. They were here for her. Someone who didn’t grow up here but acted like she did. “Can I make you something? I’ll make you tea!” She decided and pulled him toward the counter seat, her counter seat. She hurried behind the counter and busied herself with a mug and hot water. “How do you feel?” She asked.

“Good,” he cleared his throat and winced at the feeling.

She pouted. “Maybe you should go back to bed.”

And miss the delightful show she was putting on? Running his diner as if she did this every day? No way. Was everyone as floored about this as he was? Probably not. They probably knew that Harry loved her in such a way that he never loved anyone else in this town.

Harry reached for the sugar and cream behind the counter, and she smacked his hand away and winked, placing the little plate in front of him. “I can make you eggs,” she offered her fingers touching the moon on her neck. “Are you okay?” She asked.

He nodded and she gave his hand a gentle squeeze before heading off toward the grill.

“Miss Peach any chance you could make those blueberry muffins of yours?”

“Oh! That’s an excellent idea, Ed! Let me get Harry some breakfast and I’ll get right on it!” She called from behind the kitchen.

Harry decided that he might love being sick.

But really, he knew it was just that he was in love.

--

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I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[eye-may]

Could you do Etcetera and Electra now pretty please? The besties

Your drawing style is so cool and pleasant to look at💕💕

Also, Happy Christmas and new year!✨🐱

ty for the kind words! I hope yall had a good holiday!

disclaimer, this is my first time trying to draw etcetera and electra so Im sure my designs for them will change in the future, but that's par for the course with me lol. I draw mistoffelees probably the most and even now I wouldn't say that I'm 100% on even his design. usually when I go about transliterating the costumes I'm looking at the napier concepts and the '98 designs (if only bc they're the easiest to find clear images of lol) but sometimes those leotards and wigs are damn hard to recreate in my style lmaooo

not that anybody asked about all that lmao ANYWAY,

in terms of backstories, these are another pair of kittens that I'm not too decisive about yet lol. I can at least start with surmising that neither were, or are, domesticated, as neither wear collars. I entertained the idea of them knowing each other prior to arriving at the Junkyard, but now I'm leaning more towards them actually having met there instead.

I see Etcetera as very outgoing, sociable, trusting, and so on, with humans and cats alike, so I'm actually thinking that maybe she had been briefly domesticated, but then was abandoned for whatever reason by her humans, maybe discarded somewhere near the entrance to the Yard. I feel like she would have naively thought it was all a game, taking a while to realize that she was left purposefully and her humans weren't coming back from her, nor where they looking to be found. Probably one of the older cats would have spotted her and invited led her back to the Yard to be looked after.

For Electra...personality-wise, I see her as similar in personality/energy levels to Ectetera, but kind of "edgier." She's more bold, brash, and curious, whereas Ectetera is persuadable, impressionable, credulous, etc (heh). she's a little goofier and lighthearted. that's not to say that Electra isn't also fun and goofy, but I think she's more of a "thinker," and more independent. Electra may be a more itinerant member of the tribe, despite being so young. Nobody, after all, is a prisoner there; cats and kittens alike can come and go as they see fit, and Electra is a little too insatiably curious, and a little too courageous, to be confined.

Her backstory is ehhhh...very nebulous to me yet. It's probably something similar to Pouncival and Plato; born to a stray, maybe in an alley, and eventually ended up separated from her family. I'm going to have to think more extensively about where she comes from and how she ended up a member of the tribe. Honestly her and Etcetera both lol.

I think Electra, sort of like Tumblebrutus, is likely to be a ringleader when it comes to mischief among kittens in and out of the Junkyard. Tumbebrutus, though, is always looking to impress and appear tough, whereas Electra operates under no such pretenses; she doesn't care nearly as much about what others think of her. Her concerns lie more in the greater unknown. She's the epitome of a curious feline, wanting to know more about the world, about history, and about what it means to be a Jellicle Cat. Others like Victoria and Jemima more often intuit such things, more likely to allow themselves to be governed by the influences of the Jellicle Moon and their own varieties of mysticism. Electra is a bit more literal, more salt-of-the-earth. She usually convinces the other kittens to accompany her on her sojourns and escapades, but she'll go it alone too; I'd peg her as one of the most organically independent kittens...and also, I think, one of the most leaderly and protective.

She gets along with everyone, but is most often accompanied probably by Etcetera. She probably butts heads the most with Tumblebrutus, although the two of them can be quite a pair when it comes to working together towards a common goal.

Etcetera is less so those things, although she's sort of "daring" like Electra, insofar as she's not prone to fits of pragmatism that make her cower in the face of adversity, real or perceived. she's simply all to happy to be along for the ride. extroverted and containing boundless energy, she feels the need to enjoy the company of others and to be the center of attention almost constantly. I think her and Electra get along so well partly because Electra is so restless, and Etcetera lacks inhibitions, all too happy to be included; she's pretty much the only one of the younger cats who will never play devil's advocate, who will never express doubt, who will never try to talk another cat out of an impending adventure. her only reservation, really, may be getting in trouble with the older cats; but it's not too hard to talk her into disregarding such concerns.

More meaningfully, I think the two go well together because of their polarized approaches to viewing the world and construing more difficult lessons and concepts. Electra is prone to getting too much in her head and overthinking; so it's a good thing Etcetera is there to dumb things down for her, to simplify those more challenging queries in a way that is comfortingly sensible and potent. I.e., when Electra finds herself pondering why is such-and-such right? Etcetera will remind her that right is right, and there's no need to look further. Or in other words, she reminds Electra that sometimes it's time to mind your heart and your intuition, rather than get tangled up in endless cerebral complexities. in her view, sometimes you truly don't need all the answers.

all together the two of them enjoy a very balanced and close friendship, and are jointly the source of a lot of energy and mischief that takes place in the Yard!

[chimindity]

hunger

summary | sarah brings her little sister to hang out with the pogues, but things take a turn for the worse, forcing her to call rafe for help. request by @chezeburger22

pairing | brother!rafe & reader & sister!sarah

warning | all fluff!!

a/n | rafe icon by @tinylilacbun ; ughh i'm so sorry for taking this much time to fulfill your request😭🫶🏻

+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*━━━*+:★:+*

sarah has been pleading with rafe for hours to let her take you to hang out with the pogues. eventually, after some time and a long sigh, rafe gives in, clearly telling his sister to keep a close watch on you because he doesn’t fully trust them with his baby sister.

he reluctantly hands you over to sarah. “make sure she’s okay by the end of the day” he instructs, giving her a firm scolding while softly stroking your cheek. “love you, princess.” he plants a quick kiss on your forehead as you reach out for him. sarah bounces you playfully on her hip to get your attention, and finally, your gaze settles on her as she steps out of the house to join the rest of the pogues.

they all coo at you when sarah arrives, holding you tightly against her. “she is the cutest child i've ever seen!“ you hear jj rush over, playfully ruffling your hair as if you were a pet. pope peeks over sarah's shoulder, watching you giggle at all the attention. his brows furrow when he sees jj pinching your cheeks. “uh—jj, she's not a dog,” he says, pushing jj's hand away from your face.

“come on, man, i’m amazing with kids! she probably loves me already,” you giggle at jj, who is pulling silly faces, just before sarah chimes in. “are we really going to spend the entire day focused on my baby sister?” she asks as she walks toward the shore, still carrying you on her hip. you spot a tiny crab on the sand right next to sarah's feet. “crabby crabby!” you laugh, watching john b scoop up the crab so you can take a closer look.

it’s been three hours since you’ve been hanging out with the pogues, and your stomach is starting to growl with hunger. you find yourself sitting on a rock, absentmindedly playing with the shells jj gave you. meanwhile, sarah is engrossed in conversation with john b, completely oblivious to your quiet whining.

pope is the first to pick up on your fussy mood. he approaches you and crouches down to get a better look. “why are you crying all of a sudden, princess?” he asks softly, brushing his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears. you remain still, pushing his hand away. “no!” you whine. pope then calls out for sarah, who rushes over to your side.

she scoops you up into her arms, cradling the back of your head gently. “what’s wrong, sweetie?” she asks softly, while the others work to distract you from your tears. jj holds up various shells, and pope runs his fingers through your hair. “i think she might be hungry,” john b says, watching your fussy behavior.

sarah glances at John b, realizing he’s probably right about you being hungry. “does anyone have any baby food?” she asks. the others quickly rummage through the fridge, but all they manage to find are beers and pizzas. “i think she might be too little for a beer, dude,” pope teases, playfully nudging jj's shoulder as he pops open a can. “there are some leftovers,” John b says with a grimace, pulling out an old pizza and showing it to sarah. just then, they’re interrupted by your louder whining, as you cry out for rafe.

sarah lets out a sigh as she looks down at you, realizing there's nothing they can do but call rafe. she quickly dials her brother's number, nervously nibbling her thumb while glancing at pope and jj, who are being silly with their beers. “sarah, what's wrong? is everything okay?” rafe's firm voice makes her even more anxious. “yes, i mean—no, she’s hungry, and we have nothing to feed her. you need to bring her something to eat, rafe.” hearing rafe's voice brings a smile to your face.

she hears him let out a loud sigh through the phone. “jesus, sarah! you had one job to do; i can't even trust you with our sister!” you see her roll her eyes at his tone. “i'm sorry, rafe, okay? she's just hungry,” she says, trying to calm things down. “alright, stop yelling. I'm on my way,” he sighs again before ending the call.

not long after, rafe finally arrives, carrying a tray of strawberries. you squirm with excitement and rush to your brother as soon as you see him walk in. “rafey!” you giggle, wrapping your arms around one of his legs while he gently pats your head, glancing over at the pogues. “that girl is starving,” jj whispers to pope, watching how eager you are to get your hands on the food. rafe lifts you effortlessly into his arms and sets you down on the nearest chair. “there, there, princess,” he reassures you, smiling as he sees you reaching for the strawberries with grabby hands.

they all watch you enjoy the strawberries, too cautious to meet rafe's piercing gaze. “she's coming with me,” he declares, hands on his hips, patiently waiting for you to satisfy your hunger. sarah remains silent, simply nodding in agreement with rafe. with a gentle swoop, he lifts you back into his arms and carries you home.

taglist

@jjsfavgirl ; @nemesyaaa ; @mrvlxgrl ; @tinylilacbun ; @jjmaybankssurfergf ; @mylettterstoyou ; @sweetstars-posts ; @hallecarey1 ; @aariahnaa