#he does not take any notes his brain is just genius

[writingtraumaforever]

Uncontrolled Chaos: Chapter 38

Notes: I want to apologize for the long wait. I have struggled lately to sit down and write since I've been so busy-- my brain is a bit of everywhere. I will be taking a trip starting this upcoming week, and will be gone for a week and a half! So I likely won't update until about two weeks from today. Hopefully this will hold everyone off until then! Thank you all for your patience!<3

Summary: The gangs finally connect.

UC Masterpost!

Link to My AO3!

Start:

“Okay! Here goes nothing, everyone!”

Tails’ flips on the radio’s switch, immediately being met with static.

“Well, it’s working, at least,” the kit chuckles awkwardly.

“Are we able to connect to them properly??” Shadow asks, his ears perked up high over his head in an optimistic point at the sound of the static. Listening carefully for any sort of voice or pause in the constant fuzz of sound.

“Let me see,” the kid genius leans forward again, taking a nozzle in hand and beginning to slowly turn it. 

Everyone is quiet. Amy has her hands clamped together in front of her hopefully as she stands beside the worktable, Sonic standing with both hands pressed against the same workbench to lean against it. And Shadow with his arms crossed and a determined little furrow to his brow..

The only sound being the static and the light tapping of Sonic’s impatient foot on the concrete floor of the garage.

This goes on for a few minutes. 

Sonic’s eyes flicker up to look at Shadow, seeing the building tension and nervousness on his face as each moment passes with no signal. His hope beginning to be replaced by frustration. He feels helpless. Sure, he’s managed to help retrieve some chaos emeralds, but other than that, he’s done nothing. That feeling of failing as a hero, being useless, that he’s become all too familiar with begins to creep its way back into his mind.

This is why he can never slow down. The second he does, he starts having existential crises and questioning his existence and validity– nope. He’d just rather not. Rather stay busy and stay running and not deal with any of it. If this adventure required more badnik smashing, he’d be doing way better.

Amy sighs after a few minutes of waiting, moving around the table to stand next to Shadow and gently place an arm on his back. She rubs up and down it slowly as though she’s trying to comfort him, Sonic’s eyes following the movement. His gaze then shifts back up to Shadow who just knits his brows a bit, frustration turning into something sadder now that he’s being given comfort.

Sonic’s heart twists..

“Maybe they just aren’t home right now–” “Hello?? Hello, this is Miles ‘Ta-”

Everyone’s eyes grow huge, Tails immediately freezing in his current position he had been turning the nozzle.

“..Was that-” Amy starts but she’s quickly interrupted by Shadow who is practically jumping forward against the table.

“Turn it back! Get them back!”

“I’m trying!”

“Calm down, you’re gonna make him break it!” Sonic immediately chimes in, just managing to steady the workbench the radio is sitting on before it toppled over. Amy grabbing Shadow’s arm a bit tighter and pulling him back to chill him the heck out.

Sonic hadn’t been here earlier when Shadow had gotten the message from his world. He hadn’t got to see firsthand the absolute relief and joy he had felt when he heard the alternate world’s Team Sonic speaking to him, assuring him they’re alright. That they’d get him back. He didn’t doubt the guy was thrilled to hear this, but he hadn’t expected this sort of nervous energy from him. It was still so odd.. seeing anything being expressed from Shadow other than grumpiness or annoyance.

“Sorry,” Shadow huffs, closing his eyes as he seemingly tries to gather himself, “Sorry. I just–..” He sighs again, rubbing a gloved hand back through his quills. Sonic watches him with a small knit in his brow, Tails continuing to try and regain the connection. “It’s fine, dude,” the blue hero assures with a small smile, “Just relax. Tails has got this.”

“I know,” the dark hedgehog nods in return, offering his own nervous little smile gratefully to Sonic, “I know..”

And sure as chaos, the voices on the radio start back up.

“Ayo, MC Sonic up in the hizouse!”

“It’s not a toy, Sonic..”

“I know that. Just got tired of you repeating your name over and over, bro.”

Shadow’s ears immediately perk up again, eyes widening and smile stretching wide having heard his version of Sonic speaking. 

Sonic doesn’t think he’s ever seen Shadow smile so big..

Didn’t think it was even physically possible, honestly.

Instead of jumping at the radio this time, he waits patiently for Tails to lock in a bit better onto their signal, the static remaining but dimming until it was only a low buzz. 

“..I think I’ve got ‘em,” the red blinking light on the radio turning a consistent green now, his accomplished blue eyes raising to look at Sonic’s own proud ones.

“Way to go, buddy!” Sonic grins, ruffling the kit’s bangs and causing the fox to giggle with a little blush at the praise.

“You’re amazing, Tails!” Amy adds with a grin, Shadow too focused on the radio to chime in on the appreciation currently.

“Aw, it was nothing. The instructions sent from the other world made it pretty easy–” “Can I talk to them??” Shadow interrupts without meaning to, scarlet eyes hopeful as they look at the fox for permission.

“Uh.. yes, hopefully. Let’s give it a try, huh??”

“Please,” Shadow breathes with a nod, moving to sit where Tails had been in the chair once the fox has moved for him.

Tails remains leaned over the table, showing Shadow all the controls.

“This here switch is the power. This knob is for the signal if it starts to get fuzzy. This one is volume. And to speak into the mic, you need to hold down this button..” “Got it,” Shadow nods, finger hovering over the mic button. He pauses. Sonic sees the moment of hesitation. The nervous energy feeding into his expression as he shuts his eyes and swallows thick in his throat. He’s scared.. Scared it won’t work, scared it will and what he may find when it does..

“Hey,” Sonic says quietly, Shadow’s eyes opening and looking up to his with a knit to his brow. Sonic winks and gives a thumbs up, “You got this.” Shadow’s expression softens at this, a tiny smile forming on his mouth before he nods and looks back to the radio.

Here goes nothing.

Pressing his finger down on the mic button, he leans in to speak, “Tails?? Tails, do you copy?? It’s Shadow..”

Releases the button. Waiting..

“Krrch We read you loud and clear, Shadow–”

The team erupts into cheering, Amy hugging Tails and jumping up and down with him while Sonic claps Shadow on the back with a wide grin.

“Told you!” Shadow just laughs, his eyes looking almost misty as his smile is so stretched it almost hurts his cheeks. He leans back in to speak again, “Thank chaos–” “Shadow!?? Shadow, can you hear me!?”

It’s the other Sonic’s voice now, having lost its unserious playfulness they had heard moments ago and now instead being far more excited and hopeful.

Sonic.. Doesn’t know what to think of that.

“Yes! Yes, it’s me, I’m here!” “Oh Gaia, Shadow!” is he crying??? “Oh my chaos– you have no idea how good it is to hear your voice! Are you okay????”

“I’m perfectly fine, Sonic,” Shadow chuckles breathily, his own voice sounding a bit choked up now, “They’ve been taking care of me over here.” “Good! I’d have to whoop some alternate ass if not!”Shadow chuckles at hearing this, rolling his eyes and shaking his head affectionately.

“How are you? Are you okay??” “How’s our Shadow??” Sonic finds himself adding without hesitation, his mind racing on where the other might be.. He’s done a really good job at not showing his worry throughout all of this, but now that they’re so close??.. It would just be really nice to be assured he’s okay or hasn’t tried to take on all this mess on his own.

His answer comes in the form of a gruff voice speaking on the other end of the signal.

“Sonic??”

“Shadow!” Sonic beams, leaning in closer to the alternate Shadow now to be next to the mic, “Dude, you’re alive!” “Of course I’m alive, you idiot, why wouldn’t I be??”

Sonic snorts, rolling his eyes and chuckling at that all to familiar grouchiness, “Aw man, it’s so nice to hear an insult from you again.”

“Hmph,” is all he gets in response, but Sonic knows that’s an amused huff. It makes him smile more. “We’re all good over here,” the alternate Sonic’s voice comes again, “Shadow is being taken care of, and we’re slow and steadily gathering the chaos emeralds.”

“Same here,” Shadow responds, leaning his elbow against the table as he speaks, “We currently have four. Still working on the other three.” “We’ve gotten our hands on five,” Alt. Sonic replies all smug as if it’s a competition and yeah.. Yeah, sounds like the alternate Sonic is just as juvenile as Sonic himself.

Shocker.

“Ask where they found theirs. Maybe it’ll give us some ideas for our own??” Tails offers with a cock of his brow.

“Where’d you–” “I heard him,” Alt. Sonic chimes in, Shadow smirking at his lover’s impatience, “Heya Alternate Tails, by the way!”“Hello!” Tails laughs, finding all of this honestly incredible. 

“Thanks for hooking me and my ‘lovuh’ up,” the alternate Sonic jokes, and the entire room suddenly goes quiet.

Shadow tenses up a bit, eyes widening slightly as he stares at the mic and very much not at Sonic who he can feel staring holes into the side of his head.

Sonic’s eyes were indeed boring into Shadow’s face. Waiting on him to correct the alternate version of him. Scold him for being so stupid. For calling them ‘lovers’. It never comes..

Maybe he misheard it! Maybe that’s not what his alternate version said at all! Maybe he said something completely different. Something innocent and more teasing. Or perhaps he was only playfully flirting like Sonic does with everyone, and it didn’t actually mean anything at all!

One good look at Shadow’s own deer in headlights expression told him that wasn’t true.

“...hello? Tails, I think we lost them-”“No! Nope, we’re uh.. We’re still here,” Shadow speaks into the mic, actively avoiding looking at anyone else in the room in that moment.

“Oh! It just got real quiet, so I thought-”“Nope! We’re here! All good..” Amy’s eyes shift from the back of Shadow’s head to Sonic, her hands then shooting up to cover her mouth, snorting into her palms.

Sonic blinks at this, eyes looking at her and–

She knew!?

“Okay good! So let’s talk emeralds, huh?? We got one from GUN, one in the forest outside Green Hills with the Tornado, Amy just arrived with a green one she got from Seaside. Uh.. Shadow and I got one from Eggman, and Rouge pawned one off someone in Casino Zone.”

“Perfect,” Shadow replies, though his brain barely processed any of that information. Frankly he’s a bit too tied up in the very sudden and unignorable tension in the garage, “We haven’t tried Casino Zone or Seaside Island yet, so maybe we could–” “What do you mean ‘lovuh’!?” Sonic interrupts quite suddenly, causing Shadow to flinch before sighing and rubbing a palm down his face.

Oh great.. This conversation is going to go swimmingly.

“I meant ‘lover’, but I was saying it all cool,” Alternate Sonic says after a little pause, an awkward chuckle coming through the radio, “You… you.. Did tell them we were together, didn’t you, Shads??”

Shadow groans a bit, rubbing his hand down his face and then back up into his quills, “I hadn’t exactly gotten around to it yet..” “We’re together!?” Sonic croaks, eyes wide as saucers and cheeks glowing a bright red along with the tips of his ears. Amy just giggles more, trying to keep quiet because this wasn’t funny but Sonic’s reaction was kinda hilarious?

Tails just looks extremely uncomfortable and tired. He’s worked his ass off to get this thing working and for what?? So these idiots can straighten out their relationship statuses???

“We’re not together,” Shadow corrects, gesturing his finger at himself and Sonic, before then gesturing to himself and the radio, “We’re together.” “Like– you and alternate me!?” “Yes,” Shadow sighs again, clearly not wanting for Sonic to find out like this. “You didn’t tell them??” Alt. Sonic questions through the speaker of the radio, sounding a bit confused and maybe even a little hostile, “Why didn’t you tell them!?”“I didn’t think it was exactly essential information–” “O-ho! So I’m not essential information!??”“What!? No- that’s not–” “Were you keeping me a secret so you could seduce the other me!?”

“What!?”

“You know what??? Whatever. None of this is essential anyway, so I’m just gonna go do essential things. Here’s Tails.”

“No! Sonic, wait–!”

There’s a long pause, some muffled movements through the radio and then a loud BOOM followed by silence.

More muffled movement, the mic being picked up on the other end,

“Well, that went well..,” it’s the alternate Tails’ voice again, sounding tired and annoyed. “Very,” Tails agrees with his alternate version, sounding equally as exasperated. “Why didn’t you tell me??” Sonic’s voice comes quietly, ears flattening slightly as he looks at Shadow. Shadow who looks very overwhelmed and in shock at how terribly that just went. Sonic seems angry. Confused. “You should’ve told me! I deserve to know that sort of thing!”

Amy is concerned now, no longer finding any of this amusing..

“..Sonic, maybe we should–” “No, he-.. He has the right to be upset,” Shadow interrupts her, moving from the chair to allow Tails to take his place sitting in it again, “See if you and my Tails can work something out on how to get me back.” “On it,” Tails says simply, nodding as he plops himself down in the chair to begin plotting with his alternate version.

“You,” Shadow turns to Sonic, nodding his head towards the garage’s exit, “...You and me are gonna go have a chat.”

[gojoest]

college student satoru who drops his grades on purpose so he can ask you to tutor him and make a move on you but your spartan ways cockblock him

[babyleostuff]

"silent treatment prank" on their s/o | ot13

. . . how long svt can maintain their "silent treatment prank" after their s/o apologize even though they don't know what they did wrong

natalia's note: i don't think any of them would be able to hold out for long (as you'll see). it's a whole another thing when they give you the silent treatment when they're actually angry, but as a prank. never.

❥ seungcheol 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] one minute 

at first he wanted to try out this prank as a way to see you sulk and whine, as he usually does when you give him the silent treatment, and he thought he was being such a genius after he came up with the idea. mhm, yeah - genius my ass. the second he sees your puppy-like expression after he doesn’t reciprocate your hug, it’s over for him. it was clear to him that you thought he was bothered by you, you even apologised for entering his personal space and hugging him. thus not even a minute in, he’s all over you again, kissing you all over your face and apologising (with his noot noot pout) for his silly behaviour because come one - seeing you upset over his stupid prank is the last thing he wants to see. 

❥ jeonghan 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] ten minutes 

as much of a menace as he is, he wouldn’t be able to ignore you for more than ten minutes. first of all - he simply gets bored. that’s it - bored. you’re right next to him, and he can’t talk to you, which is so??? he loves yapping when you’re next to him. second of all - he needs to touch you. yoon jeonghan needs his cuddles and kisses, and how is he supposed to get them if he’s ignoring you? third of all - he might be a bit mean (with love) sometimes, but there is no way he’d ever pull a prank on you which would involve you getting genuinely upset. like - making your partner insecure? mhm, not with hannie. so, he’d kind of try to ignore you for a bit (and failing miserably because he’d answer you half of the time anyways), and so after ten minutes he just gives up.

❥ joshua 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] twenty minutes 

joshua is a bit similar to jeonghan with this (who would have guessed), the only difference is that shua is a bit more perseverant. ignoring you had never come easily to him and it never would be easy for him, but he had to admit that your slightly pouty lip was adorable, and he could practically see your brain trying to figure out what was going on. however, when he saw the first signs of you being actually upset, the entire bubble around this "funny" prank disappeared. no joke was worth your sadness, no matter how cute it made you look. shua quickly realised that the prank itself didn't make much sense and that he would much rather hug you right now than pretend that you weren't there at all.

❥ jun 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] one hour 

he didn’t come up with that prank on his own, he’d never, but a lost bet is a lost bet, and he had to take the punishment. he felt so bad avoiding you, when you asked him about his day, if he was hungry, if he needed some rest, and when you started to ask if he needed space, some time alone, and if he wanted you gone for a while - jun’s heart broke. but he felt like it was too late to take everything back because you looked so sad and upset, and you probably hated him now too, so he couldn't say anything. an hour would be his breaking point - fuck it if you hated him, he needed you, and he needed to apologise, and damn the person who came up with this stupid prank. 

❥ hoshi 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 1.5 minute 

when his friends told him about this prank, and how they pranked their significant others, soonyoung thought it was such a brilliant idea, and he couldn’t wait to try it out on you. as it turned out - it was not brilliant, it fucking sucked. ignoring you, your kiss you always gave him when he came back from work, your questions if everything was okay, was one thing - seeing your upset expression was a whole nother story. you even apologised for being so all over him when he barely entered the apartment, clearly feeling bad, and that would be the end of hoshi’s prank. this man is the simpest simp to ever simp, he cannot stand seeing you sad, especially over something you didn’t even do.

❥ wonwoo 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 0.2- 0.3 seconds 

when wonwoo heard about this prank he was baffled to say the least - what’s so fun in ignoring your significant other? like, what’s the point? wouldn’t you rather hold them close, and spend some precious quality time together rather than ignoring them? somehow, seungcheol and jeonghan managed to persuade him into giving the prank a chance, and wonwoo decided to say yes just to please his friends and get them off his back. no surprise - wonwoo wouldn’t last a second. he’s physically unable to ignore you, a single quiet “wonwoo?” makes him go “yes, baby?” *cue in attentive eyes and a puppy like expression*. besides, he’d never be able to stand you being upset, knowing he was the reason behind your small pout and eyes lacking their usual spark. (also, ignoring you equals no hugs and kisses, and that’s something wonwoo cannot stand).

❥ woozi 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] fifteen minutes 

does not see a point in this “prank”, thinks it’s very stupid and not fun. the only reason he did it in the first place was to stop hearing the constant nagging of hoshi and seungwkan, and if that was what it took to satisfy them, then whatever. he held out for fifteen minutes just because he was working on a lyrics when you came to his studio, and whereas he ignored your first hello because of the prank, he ignored your next questions just because he got distracted by his work. you were used to your boyfriend spacing out during work so that didn’t really bother you, though he never ignored your “hello” so you got a bit scared that he might’ve been angry with you or whatever. it took only one glance at you for woozi to remember that he ignored you when you came in, and he immediately dropped whatever he was doing to apologise and properly greet you with an extra kiss.

❥ dk 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 0.001 second 

not happening, never in a million years. come on, do you really expect seokmin out of all people to ignore you on purpose? over his dead body. the thing was - he overheard about the prank during rehearsals and thought it sounded a bit fun? like, he’d get to see you extra pouty, and he loved nothing more when you got cute like that - so the prank had to work, right? no. when he got home later that night, and you greeted him in the hallway with his hoodie draped over your body, rubbing your eyes with the sweater paws because it was way too late for you to be up, all of his intentions of executing the prank went out of the window immediately. later that night, when he held you close to his chest he felt so silly for even thinking that the prank would be a good idea.

❥ mingyu 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 2 minutes 

this man is too big of a yapper and too big of a clingy puppy to ignore you, besides he’s not that big on pranks, especially if it involves you getting upset. just try to imagine mingyu ignoring you, even though you didn’t do anything wrong. you can't, right? that’s the thing - mingyu has to touch you at all times, and he loves nothing more than talking to you, so why on earth would he go around ignoring you, wasting your precious time together on a silly prank? he tried it out just to see how many minutes he’d last, and well - he didn’t hold out for long, definitely not when you dropped your head and left the bedroom, thinking he was annoyed with you. he’d immediately follow you and explain that it was just a stupid prank (in return you’d give him a silent treatment ☺️)

❥ minghao 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] two hours max 

the trophy goes to xu minghao - he’s the strongest of them all, though that doesn't mean it’s any less painful for him. when minghao decides on doing something he commits, he pours his heart and soul into whatever he does, even if it’s just a stupid prank. he wasn’t sure how he even ended up in this situation - him in your bedroom, trying to occupy himself with reading, and you in the living room, probably trying to figure out what you did wrong for your boyfriend to be ignoring you. he would have ended this stupid prank a long time ago if it wasn’t for his pride and stubbornness because now he’d have to admit to coming up with this stupid ass prank, and making you feel bad just for his entertainment (which he was not entertained by). when the clock struck the second hour after he locked himself in the bedroom, he threw away the book and practically ran out to you, an apology speech ready.

❥ seungkwan 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] half an hour 

his stubbornness to admit the defeat of his prank would be the only reason why he’d hold out half an hour, if not for that he’d be running back to you after a minute. seungkwan was sure this prank would be the perfect way to get back at you for your last joke that you pulled on him, but surprise surprise - it wasn’t. he was still going strong when he saw your small pout - he thought the prank was working, and he’d get his revenge, but it wasn’t before he saw how sad you actually got that he started regretting everything. you started avoiding him like fire, you didn’t even dare to look at him, and that’s when seungkwan realised the prank was a bad idea after all, like - he didn’t mean for you to get so upset, he just wanted to make you a bit whiny and pouty for him, but none of that happened. after half an hour he was like “fuck it” because he wasn’t able to stand seeing you sad.

❥ vernon 

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] five minutes 

to be honest he just gets bored with the prank. he didn’t come over to your apartment to spend his day off ignoring you, and whoever came up with this “silent treatment prank” is plainly stupid. for one, vernon hates seeing you upset - obviously. like, who would want to ignore their partner just for funsies, and see them upset over something they didn’t do and make them self conscious? besides, it was his day off, and he wouldn’t spend it ignoring you, so after five minutes he was ready to curse out his friends that made him try out this “prank”, and apologise for acting so silly. 

❥ chan  

[ ˚˖𓍢ִ໋🦢˚ ] 0.5 seconds 

yeah, no - thank you next. this man, this man is a simp and he’s so in love with you it’s a bit worrying, there is literally nothing that could ever convince him to ignore you, for what - entertainment? because that’s what the prank sounded like, ignoring your significant other for entertainment. there were so many other things you could do together without either of you getting upset, so why not do them? one of his biggest goals in life is to keep you safe, loved, and happy - so he will not indulge in his friends' antics with this stupid ass prank. even the thought of ignoring you on purpose makes him sick, like… why? he would not be able to stand your upset expression, or the thought that you’d get self conscious about yourself. hell. no.

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[mrsrileywrites]

Hear me out... Older boyfriend Simon Riley that's a math genius 😅

smut, smut...

You are in college, the career you choose has nothing to do with math but it's the first year and you have to take that class, it's required and you have always struggled with numbers!!! 

So here you are sitting in the high chair on your kitchen isle, you've been working on that damn work sheet for the past hour, spent the last twenty minutes stuck on a random exercise you have wrote and erased so many times you are about to rip a hole in the sheet.

You think on giving up, just fail the class, get a part time job and pay for tutoring next semester so you'll pass and get done with it.

Simon is sitting on the couch, watching TV, he's been looking at your struggling from the corner of his eye. You sigh un frustration, rubbing your face about to burst into tears when he stands up and walk towards you. "What's wrong, love?", he acts oblivious.

You explain to him, your voice cracking and it tugs at the strings of his heart, he sits next to you taking a look at the work sheet, he's silent, focused, his brows slightly creased, he's so handsome, you think.

He puts the sheet in front of you and explains the exercise,he makes it look so easy, you look at him intently, you didn't know he was so good at math, and his big hand moves to squeeze your thigh, "pay attention, love" he says sternly, and you do, you try your damn hard to focus and get it right cause you want to make him proud.

And no matter how hard you try, you just can't, you don't get it :( "I can't, Si... I'm just dumb" you pout, tears welling in your pretty eyes.

"Don't say that, baby, you are not dumb" he speaks to you oh so sweetly and you just look at him. He sees the struggle on your eyes, you just need motivation he thinks.

That's how you end up bent over your kitchen isle, your pants and panties pooled at your ankles, Simon rubbing the tip of his cock at your entrance, he looks at your work sheet from over your shoulder and speaks on your ear, "C'mon baby, focus on your sheet, what does it say?". You stutter as you read the exercise, your fingers holding your pencil so tight it might snap in half any minute.

Simon enters you slowly as you write wonky numbers on the sheet, he thrusts slowly guiding you through the math problem and when you get it wrong, he's movements come to a halt, your pussy flutters around his fat cock, and you whine in frustration pushing your ass back seeking some sort of friction, his hand on your hip holds you in place.

"C'mon baby, get it right and I'll fuck you properly" and you try again, your brain scrambling for the right answer, writing with a shaky hand until you get it right and Simon rewards you, he thrusts into you vigorously as he praises you "my smart girl, so good for me" and you moan, your pussy clenching at his praise, his hand moves to rub at your clit and you feel the band tighten on your lower belly, Simon's eyes move to see where his cock disappears inside you and the recoil of your ass with every snap of his hips, you always take him so well, it makes his cock twitch inside you.

"Si... I'm gonna..." You whine. "I know baby, I know... you squeezing me so tight" he grunts on your ear thrusting faster and harder, his finger still rubbing your clit until you cum, your body shakes as he spills his seed inside your tight cunt.

Side note, that Ghost skin is my favorite cause I get to see his forearms and those cool tattoos... I need this man so bad my ovaries are gonna combust 😩

[hyukascampfire]

𝒯𝑂: 𝑆𝑂𝑀𝐸𝑂𝑁𝐸 𝐹𝑅𝑂𝑀 𝐴 𝑊𝐴𝑅𝑀 𝐶𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐴𝑇𝐸 ༉

𝓘N THIS STORY 〃 a life lived as a human among the fae is hard-earned. the folk are built of indescribable beauty, and of debauchery and mischief. for some, a life lived subservient to the folk is just fine; but to those who dream of something more, they would spend their lives clawing and biting to make it happen.

you, looking for a way to escape a life as a faerie’s human servant, put a new foot forward thinking that any life could be better than that. but, when your first assignment as a king’s spy is alongside a brooding, icy faerie man, you begin to wonder what your place in this foreign world really could be.

wc ➳ 7.5k

pairings faerie!taehyun x human!reader

warnings violence, blood is drawn, some heated kissing and groping, a magic spell is placed over a human character, fem reader, mentions of violence, animal death

playlists ⑊ yeonjun ˒ taehyun ˒ series

…🪶 ashlynn's note okay i am actually so obsessed with a icy and mean taehyun. like genuinely it is rotting my brain. lmaooo

⑊ →

The stale reek of the ancient, crumbling palace walls makes it feel like they are closing in on you. You trail only a foot behind the odd goblin spy. He treats you with quiet. He’s relatively short in stature and quite grubby, worrying his hands while he walks. You have plenty of reasons to be scared of him; a royal spy, no doubt lethal in skill, who could probably spin around and end your life the second he decided he didn’t like you. But you aren’t scared of him—no, your brain is quintessentially human, and more worried about whether or not the rest of them would find you up to their standards when you arrive where he takes you.

Growing up among the folk was, in an understatement, challenging. They were of a different nature. They did not understand the rules of the human world, and could never understand your resentment for being spirited away. Most would argue that it was a blessing, that you would one day grovel at the feet of the faerie that had stolen you here all those years ago. Resentment bloomed like a potent seed in your mind each time Nut-hatch made you sew the gowns she couldn’t manage until your fingers were bleeding and sore. Because, who wouldn’t adore a life spent at the beck and call of the faerie that snatched you right from your cradle?

You trip over a loose, fractured stone, reaching out for a wall to catch yourself. Palm stinging, you hiss. Re-steadying yourself, you spin the hand over to inspect the burning scrapes. Blood wells around shallow white trails where stone had bitten skin, but you kick your legs back into motion. The goblin does not bother to wait for you. You expect that he’d just continue walking if you don’t.

“And you expect to be a spy,” the goblin laughs, a throaty and irritating sound, “crying over a scuff.” He does not even turn around to address you, but you can’t say you expected him to. You had done nothing to earn his respect. You are going to change that.

Instead of defending yourself or making yourself sound pathetic, you just stop nursing the scrape and let the sound of footfalls fill the air. The walk is long, and you find your mind wandering off to agonize over the different ways that this could play out. Many of them do not end well. You squeeze your eyes shut, gulping down a swallow despite the tightness in your throat. When you feel your foot catching on flat ground again, nearly toppling forward, your eyes lurch open. Don’t close your eyes walking down the halls of decrepit old castles, genius. 

He makes a stop a few feet ahead of you, just before a towering, ornate, and no doubt heavy elmwood door. The metal handles are scuffed with well use to the point that they are utterly dull and reflect little light, and there are four long gashes that splinter the wood. Wild gashes like that could only have been carved by a beast of Faerie origin. 

“So, this is the entrance?” you ask, catching up to him. You gesture at the door ahead. 

He levels you a stare, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. A yellowed canine, so sharp it would pierce your jugular like a knife through sweet cream, peeks out. You squirm under his glare, those yellow eyes scrutinizing you for a moment. 

“More like this,” he says simply, looking pointedly to a slate tile at his feet.

You sigh. You suppose you should’ve inferred that the entrance of a royal spy den is not just a door with no visible locks or veiling. You watch as he dislodges the loose tile from the ground with practiced ease, a heavy hunk of stone that reveals beneath it a set of stairs leading down into the ground. The palace they had decided to conceal the den within is no doubt timeworn, but the staircase you look at now seems much newer. The stone is significantly less worn and eroded, save for the dirt that cakes the tops of each step. Wafts of earth and root greet your nose.

You frown at the prospect of heading down without even so much as a torch on the wall. It’s hollow and black down there, leaving you to only imagine where a root or pebble might steal your balance and send you down who even knows how far. “How deep is that staircase?” you ask. The goblin had already begun descending, pausing at the third step with visible impatience. 

“Oh, just get down here, won’t you?” he grumbles. “This damned stone is heavy.” You observe the utter pitch black of the stairwell for a moment, considering all the awful possibilities, before relenting and descending into it. Stone grinding and light weaning to nothingness tickle nerves up your spine as he slides the coverstone back over the entrance. 

“I can’t see,” you say, words falling out into the thick, muddy air. Perhaps obvious, but how are you supposed to walk? He curses you out under his breath before he grabs you by the meat of your arm with gnarled, calloused fingers, tugging you forward and down. You protest as you almost slip off the ledge of a step, stumbling down each descending one for a few moments until you come to another stop. The floor here is softer beneath your feet, no longer stone. You sit in waiting for whatever he is doing in the pitch black. You do not question him again. It’s better to not come off as any more incapable than you already had made yourself look, considering your goals. Your stomach is tied in such tangled up knots that you don’t know how to act right; how to act like the capable spy that you had painted yourself to be in order to even end up in this decaying palace. You wonder if he is second guessing his decision in even bringing you here. You hold your head up a little more, squaring your shoulders. If you act sure of yourself, you’ll appear that way.

A resounding pattern of knocks bounces off the dirt walls surrounding you two, and the sound of muffled words spoken follow. A soft yellow light luminates your surroundings as a peephole slides open. You blink your eyes to readjust, taking in your surroundings for the first time since that stone snuffed the light out. A rickety, rotting wood door stands before you, oddly shaped to fit the round, burrowed out dirt hollow. The light filtering in from behind the door disappears when somebody peeks through it. No words are even exchanged before a metal sliding bolt cues the unlocking of the round door, and it swings open. You squint your eyes in the light.

“This is her?” A reedy faerie stands holding the door open, her skin a pale green and with an iridescent sheen to it. The hood from the cloak around her shoulders is tugged over her head, but you can see the way she takes you in even through the shadow it casts. 

“Something wrong?” the goblin asks, shoving his way past the long-limbed sprite. You stay put, not sure whether or not they’d like you just barreling your way in behind him.

She scrutinizes you for a moment longer, shrugging. “No,” she answers, lips pursed, “just a bit…” The sprite hesitates on the wording before finishing,“Underwhelming?” She leaves the door to follow him in. You gnaw at your cheeks. You are used to being lackluster—You were raised from infancy here, in a world of creatures that are beauty incarnate. Humans could be beautiful, yeah. But it was not the beauty of starless nights for eyes, nor of flower-petal skin, and never hair of twinkling, gold-spun strands. Human beauty could only ever exist in the four-walled prison of facial symmetry and physical attraction. Even the most gritty of the folk had a certain air of ethereal about them, worted and twisted as they may be. You resent them for it; resent the way your skin and hair dull beside them, becoming something mundane and underwhelming.

Their little hideout is humble. It smells of old wood, and furniture is minimal. The two of them sit down at a square table to the center of the room, leaving three other seats empty. You mull over whether or not simply taking a seat next to them would be offensive before just shoving your nerves down with a foot long stick and sitting. To convince them that you’re a needed part of their team, you’ve got to act the part. An indelible spy does not wonder whether or not a seat is for them, they know it is theirs. However you may try to play an act, though, you’re sure that they can see how the scars that decorate your fingertips are more from pricks of a sewing needle than they are of blades and combat. The sprite girl tugs her hood off her head, revealing a head of tousled white hair except for horizontal stripes of black that decorate some chunks. Her eyelashes are chunky, spidery, and curled, so long they tickle her brow with each blink, and they frame her grass-green eyes. She doesn’t look far off from the insect that she shares her name with. Regarding you, she sits nonchalant and kicked back in the chair, worn boots up and criss-crossed on the table. 

“This is the place where you’ll meet us,” she says, addressing you finally. She wiggles a foot as if this conversation is the last she’d like to be having.

You pause inwardly—you had thought this would be some sort of rugged test of skills, not an initiation.

She continues. “You’ll meet the others whenever they—”

You cut her off. “Aren’t you going to ask me about my qualifications?” 

She quirks a delicate brow, speaking for her just as well as words might.

 “Or, like, test me? Or something?” you continue. The two of them share a look, before breaking out into snorts and giggles. You shift in your seat, frowning. There was nothing funny about your questions.

“We would have never even brought you down here if we didn’t already decide on you,” the sprite girl says, and then gestures at the goblin, “We heard plenty of you from Gristle.” 

The goblin sputters to explain himself, embarrassed how the sprite had made it seem like he was raving. Gristle is his name, then. “We needed a human counterpart,” he says, pointing a clawed finger at the sprite girl. “Nobody else was doing the heavy lifting in recruiting. You try and see how it is, then,” he huffs, voice gravelly. “We needed one, and I brought you one.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, voice softening to a tone reminiscent of soothing a tantruming toddler. “You sure did.” She flexes her booted foot to point in your direction, “But did you bring us a competent one?” 

You cross your arms across your chest, narrowing your eyes. “I’m plenty competent,” you say. Sure, you are the servant girl of a busy seamstress faerie, but you need to make something more of yourself in one way or another. You could learn anything, if it meant that. “You don’t have to worry about me running off and telling anybody anything.”

She barks a laugh, as if the notion was ridiculous. “Well, I should know that, because I assume you value your life well enough.” She lets her feet drop off the table, prowling toward you on legs a bit too long for her body, before sliding an ornate dagger from its sheath at her hip and brandishing it to you. “But could you even hold your own if someone engages you out in the field?” She then drives the blunt, thick pommel end of it into your chin. Your head snaps back with the force of the strike, and you can feel by the warm trickle of blood that it had busted your chin open. 

You look at her, wild-eyed and accusatory. Your jaw aches as you open your mouth to ask, “What was that?” A trail of thick blood runs down your neck, and she just scoffs.

“Figures.” The sprite sheaths the dagger, dropping back into her seat unceremoniously as if she did not just bash you in the chin. 

“I don’t know how to fight yet,” you say, wiping at your neck. You bring your hand up to check the damage, hissing through your teeth as you prod around the gash. You shake your shoulders as if it would shake off the searing pain running up and down your jaw before adding, “But I can learn. I will learn.” Gristle tosses you a rag he had retrieved silently from a drawer, his mouth pulled taut into a line. You wipe up the remnants of the blood, the metallic tang of it finally reaching your nose. You shudder as you press the rag to the wound and hold it there. 

“Now, that’s what I’m talking about,” Gristle cracks, his grin toothy. “We weren’t going to find humans who could already fight,” he says, a fur-tipped ear twitching, “but one willing to learn…” He looks at you, and then returns his gaze to the sprite. “We can work with that, Cricket.” When her face stays drawn, he repeats, “We can work with it.” His yellow saucer eyes are serious.

Cricket doesn’t say anything; her grassy eyes simply go distant with thought for a moment. It was true: humans are not brought to the world of Faerie to learn to fight. Or to be anything more than servants, at that. The luckiest ones, like you, are at the very least schooled on reading and faerie histories. Lucky would be an overstatement, though. Nobody stolen from their homes and then forced to accept a reality in a foreign world is genuinely lucky. Despite it, you no longer dream of the life you could’ve had in the human world. It is not your life. It will never be your life. And, considering the look that Cricket and Gristle share, your life is now to be the human counterpart of a royal band of spies. 

“Do you know how an oath works?” Cricket asks, pulling out that same embellished dagger and spinning it between two fingers. You hesitate before nodding. You don’t, and she seems to read right through you. She narrows her eyes at you. 

“First of all, don’t lie. Never lie. We have to be able to trust each other.” She says, still spinning that glittering dagger utterly nonchalant. “You’ll want our trust when you’re on the field and need your back covered. Not knowing how to officiate an oath is one thing,” she stops spinning the blade to point it at you, “lying to me is another.”

 You shake off the embarrassment that crawls up your throat. “I’m sorry. I want you guys to trust me.” 

“Trust is especially important with you,” she says. It’s true. Humans can lie blatantly with their mouths. The folk could twist truths to deceive, and bend over backwards to make one thing sound like another, but they could not just lie. In your schooling years, you were taught that a lie is simply against faerie nature. You had laughed at that—if anything seemed to be in faerie nature, it was lying.

 “We can start our trust”—she gestures with one finger between you and herself—“off on the right foot with a geas.” Taking your arm that does not hold the rag, she tugs it toward her.

You struggle with the word geas. A geas is a faerie ensorcellment the folk dearly love subjecting humans, who did not know any better, to. They sweet-talk them into it, and when the human was fully ensorcelled, the human becomes a living plaything to make dance unabashedly and kiss the dirt off their boots. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth. 

“An oath and a geas are not interchangeable,” you say, wary and preparing to take your arm back. “Which is it?”

 “An oath means nothing to a human.” She looks to Gristle for support, “Right or wrong?”

“Leave me out of it.” 

Cricket rolls her eyes. “We just have to get some type of way to ensure that I won’t have to tie up loose ends.”

A knock rings through the room, the same rhythmic knock that Gristle had performed on the door. Gristle clambers over to the door and slides the peephole open. 

“Decided to show up to do your work today?” Gristle says through the peephole, before sliding the hatch open. You look away from the door before seeing who enters as Cricket grows impatient, spinning your arm so that your palm is facing the roof. She takes her dagger and slides it across the delicate skin. You try to reclaim your hand, but she holds it steady and slides a slit across her own palm. 

“Are you guys trying to bleed me for every drop I have?” you protest. You could probably count the amount of wounds you’ve been inflicted with since stepping into the palace on two hands. She clasps your hands, mushing together the wounds still seeping blood. 

You had forgotten about the knock at the door until a new voice with a deep and silvery quality to it asks, “Trying to do it before I could get here, Cricket?” The voice travels from behind you to in front of you, and the man who owns it comes into view. He is relatively tall, towering over Gristle and quite a bit taller than Cricket. His hair is dark, hanging over a pair of sharp eyes that glare daggers at the sprite. You thank all things good that he is not leveling you with that icy smolder. You notice quickly that his ears are the distinct rounded form of a human’s ear. 

“This is Taehyun.” Cricket gestures with an exasperated arm. If the roundness of his ears is not already telling, the name is. He was human. You frown, retracting your hand.

“I thought you guys were looking for a human counterpart? That you had no human piece?” 

The quickness that Cricket is trying to get a geas over you is already unnerving, but now they are lying about the circumstances of your recruitment?

Cricket gives Taehyun a look that could match the heat of a thousand suns. His face is stony in response to it, utterly unmoved. Gristle does not make so much as a peep. 

“Taehyun,” she says while she takes your wounded hand into her own again, “is faerie.” 

“What about his ears, then?” You make a gesture around your own ear, one that drags along the round curve of it. Faeries were not born with rounded ears, not the goblins, nor the hobs, nor brownies, not even ones that are the most humanlike in nature. You have seen folk with knives for teeth, skin of boulders, hair from ear to clawed foot, but never rounded ears. It was another intrinsic piece of their nature; what set you apart from them. He was absolutely a human, and they were absolutely not telling you the truth. They had to have spoken their words in a way that made one thing seem like another, spun truths into lies. It was the faerie way. You would not be magically compelled by liars.

Taehyun’s face flashes with the first emotion you had seen since he arrived, but it is muddled and hard to read. 

Cricket scowls deeper, telling you, “He is not a human.” 

Taehyun gets in closer, his eyes venomous. “You know how I feel about that shit.”

 You try to decipher whether he meant being human, or the geas, but his next words solve it for you. “And you were going to try and do it before I could say anything.” When Cricket opens her mouth to say something, he cuts her off, “Don’t you say that’s not true.” 

Cricket turns to you, decidedly not responding to Taehyun. “I want the geas, because it will make us feel safer. I swear on the Mighty King’s life that I will not use it to control you in any way, other than to keep your mouth shut about our operations. You will not hear another thing of it from this day forward, anyway.” Her words are proof enough of her honesty, plain and so obvious in their wording that she could not be twisting her truths around a lie. She means what she says, or else she would not be able to say it. “Would it make you feel better if you were the one to make it, Taehyun? Would you just seal your lips and let us move on from this?” She asks. Gristle feels the tension as bad as you do, so thick in the air you could choke on it, making himself busy sliding a blade down a sharpening stone.

Taehyun does not respond, his black eyes conveying exactly how he feels about that. You attempt to ease the atmosphere while also catering to your own curiosities. “How is he a faerie, with rounded ears? That doesn’t… exist.”

Taehyun’s eyes flicker at the topic of his ears again. “Well, it seems you don’t know all that you think you do about Faerie then, huh?” he spits before spinning and disappearing down a hall that leads further into the spy den, long legs clad in black striding near silently beneath him. The words crawl under your skin successfully. You could spend your whole life here, and still the folk would see you as foreign. It makes you want to make that geas, to make something of yourself. To be a spy, and make them see that you are so much more than what Nut-hatch told you that you are destined to be; A servant to the superior beings. To make him chew his words, because you know plenty about this foul world, and how to live in it. If anything was true, it was true that you know more about it than him. 

You turn to Cricket, more determination in you now than you even had when you pledged your case to Gristle. “I’ll take the geas. I’ll do whatever it takes to become a competent piece of your team, I swear it. I know my words don’t carry much weight to you, but please, let me show you that I mean them.” Cricket grins, tightening her hand to yours, tilting her head to one side and batting her spiky lashes at you. 

“I knew you were a smart girl.” She taps you on the nose, before her expression drops to a more solemn one. The headiness of faerie enchantment tugs at the sides of your vision, turning it wavy and magnified about the edges. You feel it thread through the air, and then spread from your palm to your arm, and then all over, under your skin, like an itch, and in your head, like potent faerie wine. It lasts for a moment’s width longer, before you blink it away. She drops her hand from yours. 

“You will not speak of this team, nor its dealings, to anybody I do not authorize, and are, from this exact moment forward, unable to reveal the location of this den.” You shudder under the gravity of knowing that your autonomy is vulnerable and in her hands. Was it ever truly yours to have, though? Faerie glamour and enchantments on humans are unpunishable, and often seen as entertainments. Is a geas permanent? You shove back that worry; it’s too late now.

Gristle whistles a descending tone, finally making himself known again. “This place, we call Homebase. Or, The Hole. Whichever you prefer,” he gestures around, and you take in the shoddy ceiling, the make-shift kitchen, and the weapons strewn about every surface. Definitely a spy hideout. “There are a few others for you to meet. They come and go; but you’ll be staying here, I understand?”

 You nod. He knew about your situation with Nut-hatch already.

“Okay, then. Let’s get you a room.” He hobbles to that hallway Taehyun had stormed down, his gold-embroidered cloak dragging on the floor behind him. You follow, scoping out the scenery. 

“Do the others not stay here?” you ask. You two continue down that same hall, the smell of underground musk still heavy. That would take you some getting used to. 

He grunts in affirmation. “Whoever you met today, stay here. The others dwell elsewhere, for some reason or another.” He stops at a room, and opens the door. The room is ornate in contrast with the other rooms of The Hole, the bedding plush and made of fine threads. It was not anything overly extravagant, but perfectly fit for a spy of The King. It is better than sleeping in the sweltering-hot attic of Nut-hatch’s cottage, you decide, appreciating the cool and damp air. And here, they decide that you are worthy enough of your own room. That is more than enough for you.

 “But, you’ll meet them tomorrow, no doubt. Make this room your own, I’ll fetch some more fitting garments for you,” he gestures down to the simple linen frock you adorn. You feel the odd tickle of embarrassment at the back of your mind. The irony of your attire, while living under the roof of an esteemed seamstress, is hard to ignore. Nut-hatch had always liked to scold you up and down that there is no need to look frilly working a gown shop, while simultaneously being dressed in ribbons and lace. You take a deep breath of linen-scented air, and then release it. And then, you get to making the room your own. 

❆

You do your best to plant your booted foot to the ground, to save yourself from anxiously toeing dirt or stone. The clothes they had brought for you were odd and foreign as someone who only wore the most efficient of dresses and leather slippers for the entirety of her life leading up to this moment. The hooded cloak bunches around your neck and shoulders, stifling. The boots at your feet are so heavy and chunky that they chastely kiss the ground when you step. The sensation of pant legs securing your thighs and shins is the most suffocating, and the weight of the weapons secured by straps are heavier than you’d ever expected them to be. And, to top it all off beautifully, your first assignment is with Taehyun. You’re supposed to be heading north, to the land of the Northern Queen, where the folk are Unseelie, and are said to be the most vicious. You’d already let that thought sink in, though. Now, all you can mull over is spending the trip with Taehyun; the contempt he had regarded you with before he left last night is still fresh in your mind.

Lightweight footsteps approach behind you, and you know it’s Taehyun. He plops a full pack on the ground wordlessly before tugging the hood of his mantle up and over his head. He is, like yesterday, fashioned in a black tunic and a matching doublet, embroidered with silver threads at the lapel and cuffs, a heavy bow strapped to his back. Maybe a bit flashy for days of traveling by foot, but maybe you also have no idea what flashy actually means. 

You cross your arms over your chest, before gesturing to the bag you had already packed for yourself. “I packed.” 

He sends you a vacant look. “Put that one back,” he tells you. The air is so tense that you consider just doing it, but his tone ruffles your feathers. 

“I have stuff that I want to bring in mine.”

He doesn’t respond, his face locked and static.

“Look,” you huff, “I know you don’t respect me yet, but I’m trying my best to become competent, you know?” 

“I respect you.” He picks up the pack he brought for you and dusts the bottom off. “You would freeze to the core in the north without the stuff packed in here. Competence is nothing to a corpse.” 

You blink at the bluntness of his words and press your mouth into a thin line, before dropping your original bag on the table and slinging the other over your shoulder. You gesture for him to lead the way with a restrained sigh, and he does so without falter.

The beginning of your mission starts off on a lovely foot.

❆

There is plenty of time to mull over what you would be doing in the north as Taehyun leads you through the lushness of the forest. The hum of insects and nearby streams and the cloying scent of summer-warmed bush berries reign supreme. When your stomach begins to rumble for not having eaten all day, you stop by a bush with exceptionally heavy branches and begin picking. The juice of the berries is thick and golden like honey when they mush between your fingers, and it glitters in the odd way that all Faerie fruit does. 

“Are you dull?” Taehyun’s voice, thick with contempt, makes you jump and lose a few from your handful of berries. “That is a Goldhip bush,” he says, his brows pinched, “you would die without a sign; just drop dead to the grass.”

Blinking, you drop the rest to the floor, wiping the glazed juices off on your pant leg.

He scoffs, spinning and heading the same way he had been going before you decided to grab fistfuls of, apparently, intensely poisonous berries. You follow him, shaken. 

“I had no idea,” you say, mostly to yourself, but he stops, turning on you. 

“You can’t afford having no idea out here. Either you step up to your role, or you die.” He gives you a long look before turning back around and stepping over a felled log. 

You step over the log as well. “I didn’t really have any reasons to know your poisons in my old life,” you say. Nut-hatch had at least fed you well, and you were never set out scavenging off berries with an empty belly. You set your pace so that you are parallel to him instead of trailing him. “What are the ones I should know?” 

He doesn’t even pause to think for a moment. He knows them like the back of his own hand. “Goldhip berries are turned into a liquid extract, and dropped into drinks. It doesn’t have a smell, but has a notorious sweet taste. It doesn’t matter by the time you taste it, though; you’re as good as dead.” A chill burrows its way under your skin. You had been so close to death; had you just popped a berry into your mouth, you would be dead right now. 

“How would you even avoid being poisoned by that, then?” 

“You don’t,” he deadpans. “It’s why you have to stay always painfully aware of your surroundings. Always.” You nod.

“Silver and salt are poison to the folk. They singe the skin, and when ingested, they decay the insides. It’d be best if you use that to your advantage. A poison harmless to you, but deadly to another, is an asset.” You clasp your hands and thank the sky inwardly at that. It feels like an ah-hah moment, to have something over the folk. Small mercies. 

“Human poisons don’t work on the folk at all. So, whatever you remember from your old life won’t serve you here.”

Old life? You have no old life. “I was raised here,” you say, keeping the hurt that tugs at your features on a tight leash. “I was in Faerie before I could even walk.” 

You watch as his face falters, sunlight filtering through tree leaves dappling his features and highlighting his nose. He is beautiful, like all fae are. He only nods in acknowledgement, but you can tell he tucks the information away.

He presses forward. “Hunter’s Bane is a milled-up tree leaf that inebriates, and fizzes up the drink it is sprinkled into. Not deadly, but the state it leaves you in could be. Deadly Pinchweed is ground up as well, and leaves a green tint—and is deadly. Lachrymose is a faerie fruit. As I’m sure you know, it makes a human agreeable and fogs their mind. It’s usually not prepared in any special way, just fed to glamoured humans.” 

The name of the fruit brings back the memory of a boy, a bit older than you, who at a particularly wild revelry was fed faerie fruit, and buttered up by folk who thought it would be exceptionally humorous for the boy to make an audience with The King. Of course, the boy did, spewing nonsense at the foot of the dais, before going to wrap The King in a hug. A guard shot an arrow through his heart. He could not have been older than sixteen. Nut-hatch barred you from any form of revelry after that; she couldn’t spare her hard-raised shop worker over some faerie fruit. You fold the memory up neatly, compacting it so that you can keep it vibrant and alive in your mind. You solidify, in that memory, that Taehyun and every other wretched creature of his kind, would hardly blink twice to see you die such a death. 

❆

Taehyun kindles a small but mighty fire with dry twigs and pine needles; they catch quickly and roar into blazing life. You settle onto the ground, propping your back against a gnarled trunk and try to breathe out the ache in your back. You miss the way the mattress back at home base had cradled your body into sleep, and abhor the dirt and foliage that sticks to your pants and palms where they meld with the ground. 

Taehyun’s voice, returning from his last round of searching for pine needles, startles you. “Get up.”

 You shoot him a look that, hopefully, channels all your exhaustion. “I just sat down,” you tell him, exasperated. 

“If you’re hungry, get up,” he says, narrowing his eyes at you. He has ditched his mantle cloak and his doublet, and now is only in his simple black tunic, its sleeves rolled to his elbows. He’s serious, then. 

You huff and complain, but stand up and dust off your palms and pants from the needles that stick to them. The especially deep indents itch a bit, and you soothe them as you follow him promptly into the thicker part of the woods. 

“Lighten your feet,” Taehyun commands, his voice low, as a third twig snaps under your foot. You wince and try to replicate the lightness of his walk, but it makes no difference. If anything, your gait is more off than before now that you overthink it. Taehyun stops walking, pointing to his feet, before slowly demonstrating his footfalls. “Tense your legs, and keep your weight on your back foot until the other is fully on the ground.”

You oblige, and can’t help the smile that tugs at your lips as it works. Your steps come lighter, and dodging crunching foliage easier. It reminds you of how a stalking beast might make itself light and airy while it watches and hunts.

The two of you continue through the shrubbery and low-hanging branches until Taehyun pauses, placing a finger over his lips. You see it now, too; a plump pheasant that pecks at the foliage, none-the-wiser. Taehyun reaches for his bow, and notches an arrow. He pulls the bowstring taut, centering his shot, and the arrow sings as he lets it fly. 

The thud of the arrow piercing the pheasant makes your stomach flip. The pheasant cries, the arrow having pinned its wing and pierced through its stomach, but not killed it instantly. You avert your eyes as the scene burrows under your skin. Your heart sinks heavy like stone in water. Taehyun bounds over to the still squawking bird with hurried steps, and the sound of metal unsheathing is followed by a loud final cry and then silence. You go rigid, nails biting your palm. You do not open your eyes, even as Taehyun announces in a whisper that he spots a second bird. The pheasant’s final cries bounce off the walls of your mind, reverberating and driving a stake into your hurting heart more with each echo.

❆

Taehyun ended up catching two other pheasants on the way back to the temporary campsite. You watch as they roast over the fire, yellow flames licking at their lightly charring bodies. Taehyun takes one off, passing it to you on a stick whittled sharp at the end. You shake your head, queasy at the thought of eating it. 

He delivers you nothing but a cold resolve. “Respect its life.” He holds the stick there for you to take once more. 

“I’ll throw up,” you say, shaking your head again and wrapping your arms around your stomach. 

He barks a laugh. “This is ridiculous.” He lets the stick drop back over the fire, and you flinch as embers flurry up into the air and narrowly miss you. Attitude flares up in your chest and you go to say something smart-mouthed, but before you can, he continues, “Go back, if you’re just going to become a waste of my time. You think you’re a spy under The King? You’re a spoiled brat who believes life should be handed to her. If you wanted that, this was not the life to choose.”

You reel at the bite in his voice. His words cut right where it hurts. “You think so?” you say, willing back the hot tears that prickle your eyes. They would only prove his case. “You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know that you don’t know shit about being a spy,” he says, standing up. “I know that you’re weak and for some reason think you’re ready for a world that is going to kill you, and that you should probably be on your way back to Homebase to tell them you were never cut out for this. Save us both the time and effort.” 

You’re up to your feet in an eye’s blink, closing the space between you two. “Humans don’t have the privilege of being spoiled brats in your world,” you hiss. The warm sensation of a tear rolling down your cheek has you hoping that he doesn’t notice, and you reach up to wipe it away quickly. You curse being an angry crier. “I’m doing what I can with what I have. Just teach me what I need to learn, and I’ll learn it.” 

“Eat the damn pheasant, then.” he urges, like a wild, roaring beast in a delicate bauble shop. 

You laugh an exhausted laugh. “I’ve never killed something, and then eaten it. It's… I think it’ll take me some time to get used to it. Just give me some time, yeah?” Your mind urges you to scream that the standards he is holding you to are unfair, that the two of you lived very different lives, and that you are going on this mission regardless of his haughty attitude, but you tidy those emotion-fueled words into something that he might like more.

He goes quiet. You sit for a moment, too, stewing in all your rehashed hurt. It isn’t just that he’s treating you like a burden, or the low-blows he seems to keep opting for. He’s unknowingly cutting down to your deepest worries, rubbing salt in the wound, that maybe you are never going to amount to anything more than a servant girl. 

He unsheathes the longsword at his back, getting into a solid stance. “Show me you can be strong, then.” You hesitate. You’ve never so much as swung a sword, and the weight of it is heavier than you’d expect as you unsheathe it. The metal hisses, and the handle of it is solid and plainly decorated in your palm. You replicate his stance, and shift the weight of the sword awkwardly in your hand, trying to find your grip

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you say, palms a bit sweaty against the cold metal, rocking in your stance. He swings hard, and the force of it colliding with your sword jolts you. It flies from your hands. You panic, frozen to the ground as he swings again. Your heart lurches as you realize he isn’t going to pull his swing. 

Wind whooshes as his sword stops just by your face. He leaves it there, pointed right at your nose. “Pick it up,” he cocks his head toward your sword. You stare at him, wide-eyed, as you oblige. You both reset your stance, him barking commands every time he finds your stance or swing to be flawed. You accept his criticism with open arms—it is better than disdain painting his features. 

You grit your teeth. You’re sheened in sweat, tugging for deep breaths, and your limbs are slow to recover from each blow he sends you. You’re twisting, dodging, and parrying how he tells you, but it's sloppy, and you have to summon your energy from already low reserves for each. His skin is irritatingly free of sweat and of a cold and pristine quality. It only comes to your attention now with your new proximity how much looks like frost twinkles just under his skin. 

Your back collides with a tree you had not noticed Taehyun was backing you into, air escaping your lungs in a big whoosh. He gains on you, pressing the long edge of his sword so that it sits mind-numbingly close to your neck. You pulse rushes frantically, heart beating from your chest in a nearly audible thudding. You continue to try and catch your breath. He swoops in so close that his breaths fan over your face. An emotion that you have a hard time reading flickers in his eyes, and then he’s slamming his mouth to yours. 

It’s a desperate clashing of teeth and lips. He lets his sword drop from your neck and to the ground, and he takes your face in his callous-roughened hands. Your own find purchase at his shoulders, tugging him closer as if he could be any more so. The sound that escapes you as his hand tangles into the hair at the back of your head and tightens, tugging your head back and pressing in with more fervor, is like none you’ve ever made before. 

When he pulls back for air, your vision swims around the edges, and is dappled with stars. He studies your face, and you’re suddenly more conscious than ever of how your cheeks burn and your lips are smeared with his kiss. He takes in your debased state. His eyes have more fire in them than you ever thought you’d see—swirling and ravenous, an innate need clawing to reach the surface . It’s a dizzying mixture of pure headiness and I shouldn’t be doing this. He dives back in, and each nip and lick at your neck is blazing. They electrify your veins and send shockwaves buzzing from the column of your throat and through your chest, zipping up and down every one of your limbs. You’re not even sure that, if Taehyun were to stop holding you fast to the tree, you would be able to stand on your wobbly and unreliable legs. 

“Taehyun,” you gasp, your voice sounding not entirely your own. “Taehyun.” 

“You piss me off so fucking bad.” He keeps one hand fisted at the back of your head, exposing your neck to him, but the other travels down your body experimentally. “And I have no idea why.” 

Your mind wants to reel and dwell on that, but he doesn’t let you. He wanders a hand about the hem of your shirt, and then he dares to go underneath it, and then he trails that cold hand up the plane of your abdomen. Your stomach flips. “Have,”–you gasp–“have you considered that maybe you’re just an asshole?” 

He draws back from ravishing your neck to give you a look, his eyes wild and untrained. It feels, for some odd reason, good to break down his impenetrable exterior—to puncture it down to where he is in his basest desires. Maybe it’s because you just need him to see you as something other than useless; to need you so badly that he forgets his contempt for you. He maintains eye contact as his thumb traces the swell of your breast, watches you gasp as he finds your nipple and rolls it under his thumb. His eyes set you ablaze, and he delights in the way you burn. 

“What, you’ve got nothing to say to that?” you say, meeting all the intensity of his gaze the best you can. You try to goad him into something; even if anger, so that he’ll soothe the pounding between your thighs. He does not entertain you, just regarding you with that same blistering intensity. Your scalp begins to ache with the relentless tug of his fist, and you whimper, your hands leaving their place in his tunic to grab at his hand. 

“You’re every bit the whiny brat I’ve known you to be,” he says. His voice is gravelly, as if even those few words were hard for him to formulate. Just as your chest had adjusted to the chill of his palm, he drags his fingertips back down your abdomen. The pads of his fingers rake over you, your skin prickling and alight. 

“And you’ve got every bit of faerie entitlement in you,” you hiss. His hand pauses just above the waistline of your bottoms, and every bit of untamed need carved into his features is dust in the wind within a heartbeat. You reel at the loss of warmth as he pulls away. You try to reach out for him, to tug him back and wipe that awful indifferent look off his face again. But he’s already kicking out the fire and propping himself up against a thick pine tree. Your stomach churns wildly as you set up your own sleeping situation. The silence is worse than any you’ve sat through—it’s charged with words better left unspoken, and heavy with the weight of your hands all over each other seconds ago. 

Sleep does not come easy to you, but when it does, you sleep dreamless and weary.

…🪶ashlynn's note how was thatttt? my first fanfic!! i've been looking forward to doing a high fantasy/faerie fanfic for sooo long. i'm sorry to leave you off like that but.. know that I am plotting, and planning. i'm already working on part 2, so stay tuned!!

﹙🏷️ ﹚ @lvrs-street2mmorrow if your tag isn't working, check the mentions part of your settings!

[popponn]

bits and such, about him.

summary: he loves you in his own way. (aka expanded hcs on how he shows his love to you)

note: i want an isagi so bad at this point i will just cry. also i miss sae. nagi is kinda there ig (jk nagi u shojo protag). sometimes thinking about these guys are very comforting even when it comes out as pure brainrot. warning: none, just fluff. isagi is downbad, sae is a house cat variant, and nagi is something else. reader's gender unspecified, implied post canon au.

characters: isagi, sae, nagi

isagi falls in love with you again and again over the smallest things. it could be you rearranging your things, it could be you looking up to the sky, it could be you crouching alongside him, it could be you laughing at something he finds actually unfunny—repeatedly, without fail it keeps happening. in these sorts of moments, it is very obvious too. his breath would come to a halt slowly, his shoulder sagged, his mouth opening into a silent gape, all while his blue eyes would stare at you, filled with feelings that are impossible to word out. his signs are obvious enough that even strangers could know them. the worst thing is that on times like this, it means isagi yoichi's infamously smart brain will go on a holiday for a bit. adding to the fact that his eyes rarely leave you whenever you are in his vicinity, this means it happens a lot in a public setting. after the third time of seeing this happening right in front of them, most of his friends sort of agree that it would be best to leave the lovesick, down-bad isagi alone. more for their sakes because all they get is either a dumb "huh" that is very cute actually or a very angry, on-field tone of "shut the fuck up fucking donkey i'm admiring right now" which unfortunately did happen to a genius, a speedster, and a king. it nearly ended in a bloodbath multiple times but at least you know he is a man that could not be moved.

sae likes it when you play with his hair and vice versa. the annoying thing, though, is that he rather doesn't say shit for three days than admitting this to your face. some call it an acute case of terrible communication skill some call it kuudere rizz—nobody knows which one is the correct term but the good thing is this guy speaks louder through his action than his words. which mean acting like a spoiled house cat with shitty attention seeking tendencies—where you could be working or resting your exhausted leg and without any warning, you will have his head on your lap. don't bother protesting, you will lose the inevitable staring contest. just play with his hair, comb it, pat it, arrange it while praising him—just spoil him. and if he says "your hair is wet" even right after you dry it off, just sit down and let him " dry" your hair. no, it's not an alibi to have you chatter while he listens and touches your hair. no, he does not kiss you on the hair you are imagining shit. and no don't let anyone touch your hair. sae's possessive streak is a rare thing but if anyone touches your hair, that's just asking for it. honestly, it will be easier for both of you if he just says "hey can we forego the hairdryer and have your head on my lap instead this time" but this is an itoshi bloodline elder. the best he could manage is just suddenly burying his face in your hair or suddenly touching it when he is not in the mood to play a game. again, like a cat just taking something he wants. the cat is handsome and loving in his own way though.

nagi turns out to be a very very vocal person when it comes to you. aw, he must be away for a week because of a match? good luck to everyone on his team because he will whine about it every minute or so. some wanted to murder him, but thank god, an "if you look cool don't you think they will be happy?" is enough to shut him up—on camera at least. and wow he thinks you look good in your clothes? you will know it. nagi will say "wear it again", " it suits you", and many other short sentences indeed—he is still not a wordsmith—but simply by the sheer frequency of his praise? everyone and their grandma will know it. one time a brave, poor soul asked him "why the fuck are you so noisy about them?!"—and turns out it is simply because he likes your reaction to his words. you could respond back with cheer, with a calm suave, or sometimes flustered laugh, and nagi eats those up. remember to have special reactions for him though, since he is not above copying a koala or maybe some flirty toucan to have those. nagi has been a tad bit shameless though, despite everything, therefore maybe it's not unsurprising that he kinda of becomes after getting together with you. (in the background, niko nods sagely, "i see. so it's like your oshi character who you want every info of from a dating sim." while barou snaps with a "fucking what?" nagi takes a second to think, and goes, "...kinda." which is obviously an understatement.)

[adnauseum11]

M.I.A. (John Price x Reader)

John finally arrives home after a successful mission.

1.2 k words

CW: swearing

Feedback welcome!

Thanks for the support over this series - it's hugely appreciated!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U. series - Masterlist pinned to my blog.

While not explicitly written for @glitterypirateduck O Captain challenge it does fit the criteria (sorta). It's already got a lot of wonderful submissions, go check it out if you're looking for new Price fics and drabbles.

Masterlist

O Captain challenge

Ao3

The street is lonely and dark when John arrives home again. It’s late, so he’s not surprised to see the lights off in the flat. He parks and sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair. He pauses to take stock for a moment, his forearm bandaged beneath his sleeve, the dull throb almost unnoticeable unless he focuses on it. His innards are unsettled with nerves, more nerves than he felt about returning to the field. The idea that he’s still more used to the dangers of his work, life threatening as they are, than the quirks of his domestic life strikes him as terribly backwards. He debates sleeping on the couch before rejecting the thought and scooping his rucksack from the trunk with a heavy sigh and heading inside.

It's quiet in the gloomy flat, the ticking of the clock on the wall way too loud to John’s recently recalibrated ears. He carefully sets the rucksack off to the side and takes his boots and jacket off as quietly as he can manage, creeping down the hallway to the bedroom. It’s nearly pitch black, and he moves through the space on memory, shucking his clothing. It isn’t until he’s carefully lifting the covers that he realizes he can’t hear breathing.

Reaching cautiously across the cool sheets, John’s heart gives an extra hard kick when his hand doesn’t collide with a warm, sleeping form as expected. It collides with absolutely nothing, swiping through the sheets unimpeded. Panic spikes in his brain and he’s stumbling off the bed to hit the light switch, needing his eyes to confirm what his body has already discovered.   

Light floods the room and reveals the empty side of the bed. For a moment John feels like he can’t breathe, his lungs emptying without the ability to refill. The panic swirling through him feels too large for his body and he can’t stop the surprised wheeze that ekes out, unbidden.

His first instinct is to check for a note, and he vaults over the bed to check the bedside table. When that turns up nothing he heads for the bathroom, his eyes scanning across the countertop and mirror, only to find his own alarmed reflection. John forces himself to take deep breaths as he moves back into the bedroom, opening his drawers and pulling on a fresh shirt and jeans by rote. He’s exhausted, not having slept in a real bed in days, but adrenaline is coursing through him with a sharpness he can’t refute. Sleep will not be had any time soon.

He methodically checks the rest of the apartment, turning lights on and finding the blanket on the couch unfolded and abandoned, half wedged under a cushion. It doesn’t take a genius to see you had slept on the couch at some point before your departure. There’s no sign of a struggle, just an empty wine bottle and one glass with lip prints all over it. John repeats that there’s no signs of a struggle to himself, over and over as he pads back down the hallway to his bedroom, collecting his phone.

He pauses, internally debating whether or not to press the call button that his thumb is hovering over. The weight of the last few days lands on John’s shoulders firmly and he hits ‘call’ with a deep sigh that rattles the lining of his lungs. It almost goes to voicemail before the call connects.

“This had better be good.”

The familiar but groggy voice on the other end grumbles by way of greeting.

“I fucked up, Kate. She’s gone.”

“Wait, wait, what?”

John can hear Kate’s heaved sigh and rustling over the line, a hushed but urgent conversation being had in the background.

“She’s gone. I got home and she’s not here. There’s no sign of a struggle but I just…I can’t sleep. I won’t be able to sleep. I need to know she left by her own power, not dragged out of here. Please Kate. Can you pull CCTV footage, there’s one across the street-”

“Alright, hold on. Hold on, John.”

Kate’s trying to interrupt John’s flow of information. John finally stops talking, the silence on the line unnaturally tense.

“I’m up, I’m logging in, just…give me a second to play catch up.”

John grunts an affirmation, pacing back and forth at the end of the bed, the neatly made linens ramping his anxiety up. Either you never slept in the bed after he left, or you took the time to make the bed in John’s exacting military style. If he was a betting man, he knows which of the two options he would pick, which only serves to heighten his agitation.

“Ok, let’s go over this again. You say she’s gone?”

“She’s not fucking here Kate.”

“Ok, alright, let me look, I’m locating the CCTV across the road from your place now. I’m going to go ahead and guess your conversation did not go well before you left?”

“No. She said I’m making choices for her without involving her in the discussion first.”

“Well, that tracks, to be fair, John. She’s not under your command, remember.”

John’s sigh turns in to a growl, pushing his fingers through his hair while he paces, waiting for more information. Kate’s end is silent for what feels like an eternity as she works through the footage cache of the past few days.

 “Looks like she left the day after you did. A car picked her up in the morning ��� she took a bag. No note or anything, saying she’s visiting someone?”

“No, I’ve looked. Nothing.”

There’s silence again on the other end of the line for a minute before Kate speaks.

“John, I’m saying this because its Christmastime and you’ve had a hell of a run lately and I can tell this woman means a lot to you. I know what you are about to ask me. Tracking civilians without any cause is very much frowned upon, as you know, and if she didn’t tell you where she was going, she might not be happy to see you if you decide to follow up. Understand? Don’t sabotage yourself. Try to sit tight for a few days. If she’s still not back, get in touch and I’ll see what I can dig up. Right now, respect the distance.”

There’s a warning in Kate’s hushed voice, and John does his level best to reign himself in and heed it.

“Kate- “

“Listen, It’s alright John, she���s moved in now, right? She’ll be back. Figure out how to make it right in the meantime. Try to get some sleep if you can.”

Kate isn’t saying anything John doesn’t already know, but hearing it from her solidifies it somehow.

“Shit. Shit. Yeah. Yeah, alright. Thanks Kate. Sorry.”

“I’ll pass that ‘sorry’ directly on to my wife. At ease, Captain. Nothing more to be done right now, unfortunately. Get some rest.”

Kate is the voice of reason, even though John knows he’s unlikely to sleep and everything in him is screaming at him to find out more. He forces himself to swallow his arguments and listen to his old friend.

“Rog that, Kate. Thanks, again.”

Next Chapter

Taglist: @deadbranch @beebeechaos @cadotoast @syoddeye @writeforfandoms @itr-00 @chloepluto1306 @batw3nch @magsmagic @chickennn-soupp @h0n3y-l3m0n05

[auclairedetoru]

Best friend!Eren loves college, he really does! He got into the one he wanted and is majoring in something he loves, and in return his grades are doing fantastic, top of his class even!

Except for that one specific class.

God, just thinking about it pissed him off. He doesn't know why he couldn't understand it, it's like the professor was speaking in a dead language. He came back home with a headache every time he tries to focus and learn like everyone else. He swears it was going to be his 13th reason eventually. It made him rethink his entire life plan and whether it was worth getting his degree.

Seeing his frustration, his best friend y/n decided to help him out. Did she understand anything he had written in his notes? Absolutely not, it wasn't a class she needed to take, but she hated seeing him so lost and stressed, especially when they were so close to finales week.

“You like rewards, how about you give yourself a little treat every time you memorise something, if it works on dogs it can work on humans.”

Eren thought it was genius. The smile that spread on his face gave her hope that she might've finally solved his problem and gave him at least a little bit of motivation, but what Eren was thinking about was the opposite of hers. He agreed with the idea of a reward, but what kind of reward specifically?

Well...

“How about I memorise everything, and if I'm successful, you give me a kiss.”

Y/n felt dizzy at how fast she turned to look at him, eyes nearly popping out of her skull. A kiss?! What was he thinking?! She might have always had a suspicion he was dropped on his head as a baby, but this just confirmed it.

“Are you crazy?”

“Crazy for you.” he wiggled his eyebrows at her making her roll her eyes. God, he was so annoying, why was she friends with him again?

Despite thinking he's mentally unstable, she did give it a thought. Not every day you get the chance to kiss your hot best friend that you have a massive crush on, right? Might as well take the opportunity, it might never happen again. Plus, he clearly wants it to happen, he wouldn't suggest it if he didn't want to kiss her too.

“Fine,” she adds a hint of annoyance in her voice so he wouldn't figure out how nervous the thought alone made her, “let's see if you can do it.”

Eren was motivated, to say the least. He locked himself in his room for three days, only leaving for the bathroom and to grab food. He missed out on two parties, his neighbors fist fighting, the release of a new season of his favourite show and a boba tea date with Armin.

On Monday evening, he went to y/n's apartment and sat in her living room with the biggest confident smirk she has ever seen on him. He has always been very cocky, but not over something he was crying over three days prior.

“Ready?” she shuffled his flash cards to give him a little bit of a challenge and to see if he can remember everything if they're not in the order he memorised them. Eren nods, “let's do this, I'm ready for my reward.”

... And it worked.

She quizzed him on everything in every possible way. She even tried to trick him, but he was able to catch on quickly and prove her wrong. After weeks of struggling and threatening to drop out over this subject, Eren finally got a hold of it... All because of a promise of a kiss.

A kiss he was eagerly waiting for.

Y/n has never felt her cheeks heat up like this in her life. As much as she knew her best friend is very smart and could do anything he sets his mind on, she really didn't think he could pull this off, not after he tried everything. Tutors, bombarding the professor with questions, help online, they all didn't work! How was she supposed to have any faith that a stupid little kiss reward would make his brain magically start understanding this class!?

It's dumb, really. But she did want it too.

“Well,” Eren started with a huge smile, “I've proven myself, now please give me the reward I worked hard for and rightfully deserve.”

With a shaky breath, y/n leaned in, and without wasting any more time, Eren leaned down and pressed his lips against hers.

She was expecting it, of course she was, but did that make it any less shocking? Did that make her heart beat steadier? No, quite the opposite actually. Her hands were shaking, her heart was performing acrobatics behind her ribcage, and she wanted to run away and never be seen after they pulled away.

For Eren, it felt like heaven. The kiss was quick, too quick in his opinion, but he was able to feel the softness of her lips against his. God, the things he would do to feel them again. He wanted to pull her on his lap and kiss her until he was too tired to keep his eyes open, then he would pull her into his arms to sleep just to go back to kissing her the next morning.

“Can I have one more?” he asked while looking down at her shy expression.

“no! Stop embarrassing me!” she hit him on the chest before burying her face in his hoodie. He laughs and wraps his arms around her, squeezing her a little and teasing her a little more.

When Eren thinks back to their first actual kiss, he laughs at how oblivious both of them were to each other's feelings. They were very transparent about them, showing the other very clear signs that they wanted more, but they chose to ignore them and instead overthink about getting rejected and ruining their friendship.

That was all in the past now, and with the way the present is going, they can't be happier.

More best friend!Eren.

[r3medialch8os]

since it is clear to all my favorite episode is my namesake i'm going to outline some of my favorite things about remedial chaos theory.

everything leading up to the Darkest Timeline scenario. before we get to the darkest timeline, several time bombs are planted. we as an audience gradually learn about these but the characters' knowledge of them resets with every new timeline. for one, annie's gun is only adressed in the first timeline. then, in the second timeline when shirley storms out, we become aware of the fact that when the door is slammed hard enough, the rolling boulder model is triggered. further, we learn about britta smoking, pierce bringing alcohol, and the troll doll and its effect on troy. all of these things come to a head in the darkest timeline. troy leaves hastily because he doesn't want to miss anything therefore slamming the door, which triggers the indiana jones model. then the rest follows. it's genius because the chaos was unpredictable but as the audience we recognize all the elements that make it that way.

in every timeline, pierce makes a joke involving eartha kitt. the comedy of it is that every time, the segway he employs is more outlandish. it seems like a gag until jeff's timeline comes up. when jeff leaves to get the pizza, pierce in fact does not make the joke, showing us he was doing it to impress jeff the whole time, offering character insight.

jeff hits his head on the ceiling fan in every timeline. again, it seems random, until at the end annie deems it as 'karma'. we realize then, that jeff hitting his head throughout all the timelines was a karmic punishment this whole time, because he was being unfaithful in his pizza-getter divising system which governed the timelines in the first place.

there is a lot to be said about the implications about what happens when a certain group member leaves. troy's leaving causing the darkest timeline has been thoroughly discussed. what i find most interesting about this particular fact is that the timelines are not real, or so they are denoted. it is emphasized over and over again that abed is the one making up the timelines. therefore we can assume his subjective opinion influences the outcomes of the timelines. we could even assume that the whole episode takes place in his brain. it gives a lot of weight to the significance of troy leaving. in any case, it's not just that particular timeline that's interesting on this front.

when abed leaves to get the pizza, every pairing in the study group has some form of a heart-to-heart and then a disastrous outcome of that very moment resulting into a fight. they go through emotional rollercoasters, maybe more so than they have all episode. it is interesting to note that abed's departure allows the study group to access their emotions more freely, whether they be positive or more negative. it's intriguing how abed assuages these intense emotions, and how these kinds of emotional confrontations would have never happened with his being there.

the timeline where jeff leaves is also fasinating as it clearly illustrates how the group will still have fun without jeff, maybe even more so when he's gone. this is also shown in s03ep01 but becomes even clearer here. the group becomes more carefree, cheery. 

the prime timeline, the one where jeff gets the pizza, is when abed catches the die. this scene is hilarious because none of the study group members have experienced the timeline scenarios as we the audience have because they are in fact living their lives in the timeline as is considered normal. this is what makes it extra funny that they indulge abed in his lengthy verbose speech. they really like each other a lot. it's cool.

anyways, this episode is my very favorite ever and i could talk about it forever. 

[tiredfox64]

Hi Hi! I love you’re writings for Havik, it’s so hard to find any good Havik fics. Could you do Havik with an s/o who’s ex was abusive and they’re use to being bossed around and doing chores for their partner (like cooking, and cleaning for them and waiting for permission to do things)

You Have Freedom

Prior notes: Tbh using Havik is genius ngl. Make me wanna give him a kiss.

Pairing: Havik x Gn reader

Warnings ‼️: Mention of abusive/ toxic relationships, mention of violence, angst with happy ending

Relationship after relationship. It’s amazing that you are still standing. Though mentally you may have gained some issues since people in this world can’t act right.

Some partners never got over their ex. Some partners never took care of their own health. Some partners were just sick in the head and liked to mess with you.

It wasn’t you, you just had some bad luck and ran in the arms of the wrong people. You found comfort in the chaos that you were so used to. It wasn’t your choice it’s just how your brain started to be molded into needing. Your heart wanted something better. You deserved better than this. Not being forced to make a man who barely looks at you to cook him a meal or discourage you from wearing the clothes you want. But how does one break out from the cycle without getting hurt? Well, you might need some outside help.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Another crumby date with your sleazebag of a boyfriend. He couldn’t even give you a decent date night. Going to the bar and ignoring you to talk to his buddies while flirting with other people in front of you is not a date. But he will gaslight you and tell you so many things.

“You’re crazy, that never happened.” “You’re so insecure this is why I don’t take you out.” “I was buying you drinks the whole time is that not enough attention for you.”

You don’t even like drinking let alone constantly having Jägerbombs which he took for himself. He just wanted an excuse to get drunk that’s why he called this a “date”. You hate when he’s drunk. He gets more irrational and occasionally violent. He’s currently going off about how you are ruining the vibe by sulking. Now he says the clothes that he approved are too slutty while a priest would beg to differ that you are extremely modest. You’re on the verge of crying when suddenly you both hear footsteps coming your way in the dark night. Only a quarter of the moon is showing which makes it harder to see who is coming. Closer and closer these heavy footsteps come your way until what little natural light could be shined shows a man. A very scary looking man.

He’s hunched over yet he still looks taller than you. You could see his head is not aimed towards your direction but your boyfriend’s. Your boyfriend in his drunken state starts yelling and cussing him out when he has done no wrong. You tried to make him stop but he pushed you off of him, almost making you fall while he begin to yell derogatory terms at you. This seemed to displease the other man who came closer and closer until he was right at your boyfriend’s face. When he stood up straight you saw that he was much bigger than your boyfriend. He was tall and seemingly stronger. The moon light finally showed some of his face when you saw the lower half was mangled. You were frozen, unsure of what to do.

Your boyfriend booked it out of there, not even looking back at you. He was horrified and knew he fucked up. You were left alone with this scary looking man.

“Heh, pathetic. I’ve never seen such a weak man before.” He spoke in a gravely voice.

You just stared without saying a word. He began to walk off and you kept looking at him. He sensed you were still staring and turn back.

“What, too afraid to move? Did I scare you that much?” He might have been teasing you but you’re not sure.

“I’m afraid to walk home alone.”

Well that was a shock. You weren’t scared of him but you were scared of being alone. He won’t lie that seemed kinda cute. Your prick of a boyfriend did leave you behind so he felt like you deserved to at least get home safety. He walked back to you, staring down at you with that mangled face, before gesturing you to follow him. You did so without hesitation.

The ball started to roll without you knowing. This was the start of something good. The start of something with a Seidan who calls himself Havik.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Letting Havik into your home after he walked you back was the best decision you’ve made in a while. Though at first you were scared by his scars and his violent attire that didn’t change the fact he was calm with you. That calmness never went away.

Yes, he isn’t the most stable person around. You’ve seen him rip his own arm off to smack someone but that person he was smacking was your ex so it’s okay.

He never told you to stop crying. Even on the walk home you bursted out crying from that whole night. Havik didn’t immediately comfort you but when you were almost done crying he lightly wiped your tears away with his clawed hand. The metal that grazed your face was slightly confronted. And then he proceeded to lick the tears off his hands but let’s just overlook that.

You have felt safe with him around. He’s like a scary guard dog that you see as a protective softie. But in the back of your mind you worried that he would turn on you just like all your other exes. It’s starts with caring about you, than they slowly start to get aggravated and aggressive, then the love bombing starts, and a new vicious cycle starts.

This time is different, I promise.

You first tested him when your friends invited you out. A new club opened and you are still young you just had to go. They thought you were single now so they said you could dress however you wanted. But your concern was if Havik would be okay with it.

When you walked up to him he was sharpening the blade he usually had on his left arm. You swallowed hard as you hoped this wouldn’t turn nasty. You had the clothes you wanted to wear in your hands.

“Havik, my friends asked me if I could go out with them tonight. Am I allowed to go.” You closed your eyes, preparing yourself to be yelled at.

“You don’t have to ask me. It’s up to you. Do you want to go?” He responded so quickly you wondered if he took in what you said.

“Yes, I want to go. And I want to wear this,” you showed him the outfit, “Am I allowed to wear this?”

“Wear what you are comfortable with. If you want to go out with your chest out go ahead, you should be allowed to do that without anyone holding you back.” He grumbled not because of you but that the fact that if you did go out with your chest out you would be shamed.

This wasn’t the usual response for you. Usually it’s a no, why do you need to go out, are you gonna hook up with other guys, stupid incriminating things like that. It’s not that Havik doesn’t care, it’s more like he doesn’t care what you want to do just as long as you are sure you want to do so.

“Did you need me to cook you something before leaving? Does something need to be cleaned?” You were sounding all panicky as if you were being tricked. Like there was a catch and you had to do certain things before you were allowed to leave.

Havik stopped what he was doing and looked at you. For a second you thought you messed up by asking too many things and you ended up annoying him. He got up from where he was sitting and slowly made his way towards you. You flinched but didn’t run since that usually got you into more trouble before. Once he was right in front of you his hand went up and started petting you at the top of your head. You were calm again. This man in front of you is not like the others in your past.

“Were you looking for an excuse not to go out or are you worried something bad will happen when coming home?” He asked.

“No I just…was making sure,” you seemed almost out of it, “I’m gonna get ready now.”

You walked off and did as you said. You got ready and let your friends know that you would be going out. They were more than happy to hear that news. You checked with Havik one more time if it was alright but just one look at him told you it was alright. Actually wait! He has something to say. He came up to you quickly and you thought this was the moment. Nope, he just ripped his arm off and tried to hand it to you.

“Carry this with you if anyone decides to bother you.” He advised.

“I can’t carry a severed arm around! Are you crazy?!”

Uh duh, he is a little coo coo in the head.

“It’s fine. You can just smack them with it and they’ll be out. You should try it, it’s liberating.” He’s still trying to make you take his arm.

“Havik, no, stop. I’ll go to jail.”

“I will break you out. It is your right to beat someone up if they are bothering you.”

He’s not getting it but the gesture is nice. No Havik, they won’t take the knife either. Clubs don’t allow that.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

This was a big change for you and it was a good change. Your friends saw how happier you were now. They thought it was the single life. No, it was because you started to see that you were finally in a healthy spot in life. You are with a man who lets you know that you have a choice.

The night ended and your friends brought you back home. The house was quiet. When you went all the way up to your bedroom you saw Havik seemingly sleeping in your bed. And of course he was taking up the whole bed.

You started to undress and put on your sleep wear before you heard him speak in a sleepy voice.

“Did you enjoy yourself? Did anyone bother you?” He asked.

“I enjoyed myself and no, no one bothered me luckily.” The tone in your voice portrayed how happy you were which was a nice change.

“I can’t go hunting for someone?” He asked

“You can’t go hunting for someone, no.” You replied

Havik is glad no one bothered you but he did want an excuse to go after someone. Oh well, he’ll just pick at random again.

You slipped into bed with the little space you had on your side. As you were about to ask Havik if he was fine with cuddling you he was already on it. He dragged you in, nuzzling his face against yours as an act of affection. He would give you a kiss but…ya know. But you can still give him a kiss!

You kissed him all over, even the exposed flesh since you didn’t fear it anymore. You were happy to have him in your life now. A man that many would fear but you see as the sweetest guy you have ever dated. Knowing how long it took for you to get this lucky made you cry. It was hard to tell if it was from joy or the fact that it took time before you gained something good. He licked your tears away before he rested his head on top of yours. He squeezed you tight to him, almost giving off a sort of comfort that a weighted blanket would give.

“One day, I will give you a world where you are free to do whatever you want. No one will tell you what to do or what you need to do. You will be free. I’ll set everyone who has been controlled free. If I can’t free everyone, at least I can free you.”

He knew exactly what to say to you. He knows what you’ve been through. Never again. As long as he lives and thrives he won’t let that happen. He opposes control. There is only freedom and love with that freedom. Do what you want, wear what you want, cook what you want, eat what you want, do you boo boo. He will support you. And you will support him with whatever he wants to do.

There is no insecurities, denials, cheating, lies, and manipulation. There is only freedom and love between you and Havik.

Now rest, you’ve had a long eventful day. Your new beginning has started and you are excited to see what will come of this.

Though I advise you keep a towel near your bed. Havik drools in his sleep. Like a lot. Don’t be surprised when you wake up with wet hair, that was him. Sorry, I don’t make the mangled man’s rules.

After notes: Truly I hope no one ever goes through shit like this. It’s not even something like a you should have this experience once type of thing. I hope none of y’all experience what I’ve experienced in past relationships cause it is no joke. But I hope something like this can bring others comfort. Adiós!

[xoxochb]

I saw you were taking ‘Leo x reader’ requests so I thought I’d throw some ideas out there!!! :D (they’re random ideas I’ve been writing in my notes app so sorry they’re not too planned and specific…)

1.) (rivals-to-lovers) Fighting over music on the Argo II with him. Either over aux or they’re neighbors on the ship and he plays his music loud so reader does the same to drown it out… and then it turns into a little petty loud music battle.

2.) (???-to-lovers) Reader is cold so they go to his room for an extra blanket because he’s a human furnace so chances are he sleeps without one. He doesn’t have any but offers to cuddle with them. Others find out and snap a photo in the morning.

3.) Reader spends money on him (paying for food, buying something he was looking at, etc.) and Leo starts crying because he hasn’t had someone do that for him since his mom. With a fluff ending

4.) Like number 3 but with a surprise brithday party, maybe a confession at the end or maybe it’s already an established relationship?

5.) (friends-to-lovers) Percy and Leo are joking about who is more charming/attractive and the reader picks Leo. One of the others is like “Percy obviously, he’s everyone’s type, literally almost everyone has had a crush on him or found him attractive at first”. And the reader is like “Speak for yourself.” Everyone just looks over at them, even Leo is shocked lol. Maybe he gets flirty with them after and teases about it.

6.) Same as 6 but it’s some other camper making fun of him and the reader stands up for him. Maybe they fake date or something?

7.) Leo and reader are on counsler duty helping younger campers for arts and crafts. Reader makes him a friendship bracelet and he wears it all the time.

I know there’s a lot, but I just wanted to throw stuff out there for if you’re ever in a writing block, you don’t have to reply to this either any of the requests if they aren’t something you’re interested in! I just love your work (sersiouly your writing is so good omg) so I thought I’d brain dump ideas!!!

🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

⋆·˚ ༘ * he built a fire just to keep me warm

warnings: one sexual reference

pairing: leo valdez x fem! reader

right side, left side, back, stomach, sitting up. no matter how you slept it was still insanely freezing in your cabin. you’re three blankets were not enough to radiate warmth through your body. you lie awake for gods know how long, staring at the ceiling, then back at the clock, a repeating cycle between the two. you take another look at the clock: 1:58 it reads

great, so you’ve been awake almost the whole night and now it’s yesterdays tomorrow. an idea, an idea, you scan your brain for a genius idea that will help you sleep the rest of the night. would another blanket do? no it won’t because five minutes after you’re still cold. turn up the heat? then it will be too hot and there’s a possibility your siblings will complain. you’re left with only one option: get a fourth blanket. you’ve run out of blankets, your three currently being used, however you know the perfect boy who would be glad to give you one of his, and it’s your human furnace of a best friend leo valdez

he had told you many times that he sleeps with only one singular blanket since he tends to overheat with any more than that amount. he had said however that if you ever needed an extra he would be happy to give up his one for the sake of your happiness

you remove the three blankets from your body, standing up and unfortunately embracing the cold of your cabin. you slide your slippers on and throw one of leo’s sweatshirts on- another thing he had offered to you one night at a campfire, you recall it almost vividly, and the faint scent of fire still lingers on it

you had began to make your way to cabin nine, the cold air of night almost worse than your cabin, but nonetheless you power through it. once arrived at your much anticipated destination you open the door slowly, the warmth of the cabin warming you up instantly; you don’t know what you would’ve done if leo wasn’t a child of hephaestus

you make your way to his bed just fine, having spent many mornings taking this path to wake him for breakfast. you stand on the side, watching him sleep so peacefully, you hated to wake him from his sleep, he never got much of it. perhaps it was creepy to be staring as he slept, your worries got the best of you though, you felt terrible waking up for a problem of your own

“perverted much?”

you swore you saw the underworld for a moment, a hand flies to your chest and you breathe heavily. you watch as leo sits up in his bed

“oh my gods” you take a large breath “I’m sorry, I don’t- jeez- uhm, could I use your blanket? It’s freezing in my cabin”

the moment the words fall from your mouth you realize he has no blanket. a frown forms on your lips almost instantly

“I threw my blanket in the closet for the summer, haven’t taken it out yet” there’s a long pause before he speaks again “you could sleep with me though?”

sleep with leo? only your fantasies were privileged enough to be granted that honor. just sleeping right? this can’t be that bad. just go to sleep, that’s it

you crush and best friend leo valdez is asking you to sleep with him? this can’t be right

“are you sure?” you ask

“of course” he moves over to make room for you to lay, you gladly do so, eager to get warm

It’s awkward for a moment. side by side you feel his warmth through his shirt, was there any way he could just simply give it to you? probably not, you’re only option was to get any closer if that was possible, you push away this thought though, he was your best friend not your boyfriend

for a while this was how it went, you assume he fell asleep shortly after you joined him. was it the heat? your sleepiness? were you possessed? you’re unsure how it happened but you find yourself cozying up to leo, a position much to couple-y for best friends. soon enough a warm arm is wrapped around your waist, sending you into a deep sleep

you would say this was the best night of your life. the many campers taking photos in the morning would agree

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Bailing Out The Brother-In-Law

It's not important to the story but Ian and Mickey are in their apartment

///

Ian’s cell phone was buzzing. 

The fucker just had to leave his brightness up on high so now it lit up the whole damn room. Being a light sleeper, it woke Mickey up almost immediately, grumbling as soon as he was semi coherent and figured out what it was. 

“Ian.” There was no answer. His husband slept soundly beside him. “Fuck, man. Answer the damn phone.” 

He was out like a light, these new meds he was put on the other day really hitting him hard with the drowsiness. When the buzz stopped, the light went out. Mickey relaxed. Least he wouldn’t have to get outta the bed to check. S’probably nothing anyway. Ian was in that stupid Gallagher group chat that Mickey was also technically included in but he’d frequently take himself out of. 

But then it lit up again, this time it was a text. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey threw his blanket off, stalking around the side of the bed to read it. They didn’t make it a habit of using each other’s phones but they knew the passwords incase of an emergency or whatnot. 

The missed call was the first notification that popped up. Mickey’s interest rose, his eyebrows flying up to his hairline. He was very familiar with that number- it was the local jail. 

As for the text or rather texts, Tami spammed Ian’s cell with five messages. She was at home with baby Fred and didn’t want to wake him up after he’d been so difficult to put down for the night. She added that Lip got himself arrested somehow and if Ian would go bail him out using the money she sent him, she’d appreciate it. 

With his sleep-addled brain, Mickey took this all in. Now, he could have woken Ian up, made him go out there in the middle of the night to fetch his dumbass brother and go back to bed for some much needed sleep. 

A smirk grew on Mickey’s face. 

But that would have been too fucking good of an opportunity to waste. 

*

Mickey threw on a pair of jeans and a zip-up jacket. He slipped some shoes on, wrote a note for his husband should he wake up before he returned and out the door he went. 

It was different to be in the ambulance without Ian. The radio was on to give him some noise but it was nothing like his husband, who filled any and all silence with useless facts or innuendos or other goofy ass shit. 

At least the traffic was light this time of night.

As he sat at a red light, Mickey wondered what the boy-genius had done to get himself arrested. He didn’t have the guts to do the hardcore stuff, even though he’d disagree and go off to sulk like a little bitch. Mickey knew what he was talking about. Hell, he wouldn’t have believed that floppy-haired, doe eyed, all American boy scout looking kid Ian had been at fifteen woulda gone to prison and lasted. 

Because Mickey wasn’t a dumbass himself, he didn’t park the stolen ambulance in front of the police station. He was a block or so down, walking the rest of the way. 

“Ay,” he said to the front clerk when he got inside. “I’m here for Lip- Phillip Gallagher.” 

“Okay,” the chick at the desk said. She typed into a computer, pulling up a file. “He has a bail of two thousand dollars. Are you able to pay that now?”

Mickey held a comment on that, his curiosity mounting because of the amount. The fuck did Lip do? “Yeah,” he handed over Ian’s card, his hand shoved back down into his jeans pocket. 

When it was all done and processed, he was given a receipt to take back. Had to go through the metal decor too, reminded him that it was a damn good thing he’d taken his knife outta his jacket pocket yesterday so the thing could be washed. 

“He’s through these doors,” an officer came to escort him. 

“Yeah, okay,” Mickey then had an idea. “Ay, can I have a few minutes with him before you release him?” 

“Knock yourself out,” the officer didn’t object. He led Mickey through the doors, directed him to where Lip’s holding cell was and then went to sit back down. “Just tell me when you’re done.” 

“‘Kay,” Mickey saw his brother-in-law sitting down on the bench, eyes closed, head leaning back against the wall. Whatever happened, he didn’t look to ruffled, just fucking tired. “Well, well, well,” he drawled. Lip’s head whipped around to face him, and he groaned loudly. “Look like what we have here. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you on the other side, Phillip.” 

“What are you doing here?” Lip was back on his feet, standing right at the bars. “I asked for Ian to come.” 

“And you’re out of luck. He’s sleepin’.” 

“Great,” Lip grumbled. 

Mickey smirked. “How’s it like in there? Anybody made you their bitch yet?” 

Lip wasn’t amused. “I’ve been in this cell the whole time, Mickey. I haven’t seen anyone else.” Then it seemed to register to him what’d been said. “Hold the fuck up. What makes you think I’d be anyone’s bitch?” 

This was too fucking funny to Mickey. He snorted. “Like you’d be takin’ anybody down. They’d have your college ass before you could start shootin’ out useless shit like you always do.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Think Ian would object to that,” a devilish grin grew on Mickey’s face. “He railed me for hours last night.” 

As predicted, Lip was disgusted. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life, Mickey.” 

“Ain’t like you got anything else to do,” Mickey shrugged. 

Lip’s scowl that appeared suddenly vanished, but he was still visibly annoyed. “Wait a minute. Where’s the guy that’s supposed to let me out? You paid for the bail, right?” 

Mickey was deliberately silent, arching his brow. Lip asked more aggressively, 

“Right?” 

Mickey chose not to say anything just to fuck with him. 

“Mickey, I swear to God-” 

“Take the tampon out of your ass and chill your fucking tits, man. I did the damn thing.”

Lip was still glaring at him. “Then why hasn’t anyone released me yet?” 

His question was ignored. “You gonna explain what you did to get yourself thrown in here?” 

“It’s not important,” Lip muttered, averting his gaze. 

“Whatever, man. I got all night.” 

“No, you don’t,” Lip tried to argue. “Ian-” 

“-can be on his own for a while,” Mickey finished. 

Lip was frustrated. “Fuck, why can’t you just get me out of here? I told Tami I’d be back soon.” 

“Your baby mama will understand,” Mickey said uncaringly. “Just tell me what ya did and I’ll tell the guy to get you out.” 

“You don’t even care!” Lip exclaimed. 

“I do when I get to see self-righteous ass finally get put in your place,” Mickey said smugly.  

Lip looked to be two seconds away from tearing his own hair out. 

Personally, Mickey would pay to see it. 

Resigned to the fact that he wasn’t getting out there anytime soon, at least without giving in to Mickey’s demand, he sighed. “I met a guy online-” 

“I fucking knew that ninety-six percent straight was bullshit!  Good for Tami, though. Always thought she could do better than you.” 

Lip gave Mickey a withering look. “He’s part of some neighborhood group for parents, helping them get supplies and shit.” 

“And?” 

“We started talking because Fred’s going through diapers faster than Tami and I can buy. The guy said he could get us a few boxes.Should’ve known they were stolen.” He sighed. “He told me where to go to get them, cops came and he ran so they arrested me.”

“That’s gotta be the stupidest fucking thing to get arrested for.”

“I know,” Lip said shortly. He dragged a hand down his face. “I’ve always been able to spot scams. I don’t know what happened.” 

Nobody spoke for a moment. 

“Not surprised it was you, though.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lip said sharply. 

 Mickey shrugged. “Figured it wasn’t anything hardcore, you know?” 

“It could’ve been.” There was a touch of defensiveness to Lip’s voice. Riling up his brother-in-law was a favorite pastime of his. Ian had long learned to stop trying to get him to quit doing it. 

“Nah, man,” Mickey said dismissively. “You ain’t cut out for that shit.” 

“You don’t get to decide that!” Lip was getting angry. Fuck, this was too easy. 

“Boo fucking hoo. Go cry to your baby mama.” 

“Well, maybe I would if I wasn’t fucking stuck here!” 

“Probably got a point there,” Mickey said nonchalantly. 

Lip looked murderous. “Mickey, go get someone to let me out.” 

“Hang on a sec,” Mickey took out his phone, snapping a quick picture. He showed Lip just to be a little shit. “Ay, see. That’s group chat worthy. Not you askin’ bout shit nobody cares about.” 

“Don’t send that-” 

“Too late,” Mickey said with a grin. 

Lip clenched his jaw. 

His phone pinged. Mickey glanced at it. “Your beard wants to know if you’re coming home soon.” 

“Well, I’d like to know that too - Tami’s not my beard!” 

“Whatever,” Mickey shrugged. “I don’t give a shit. I’m gonna go take a piss. Wait here.” 

He snickered to himself after that last part. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you for this, Mickey!” Lip shouted as he strolled away. He smiled sheepishly when a couple of officers looked his way, quickly looking as far as he could see but by that point, Mickey was no longer in sight. “Mickey, get back here! I swear to God....”

[soup-of-the-daisies]

I am once again sick and tired of people downplaying Sirius's intelligence. I need more art where he is studying and reading and doing that smart nerd shit!!!!! Also if I see one more modern AU where Sirius is an influencer* or something I will start throwing things because he would not fucking do that.

(*i know that i have written one where he is BUT the whole point is that it didn’t make any sense and he was miserable)

no but literally— sirius would’ve been SUCH a big fan of free-time studying? he’s got everything he needs to know for school down pat, so he’s gonna look into more obscure magic for fun. he’s convinces james (very easily, i might add) to take the invisibility cloak into the restricted section and then they just sit there reading and taking notes all night. if they did discover the room of requirement while at hogwarts, sirius would’ve been in heaven: room for practice?? peace and fucking quiet?? private space to plan mischief?? FREE BOOKS?? good lord.

he’s SO clever. he likes being the smartest person in the room. he doesn’t suffer fools gladly. he’s got his own topics of interest that he can completely lose himself in when he’s on a research binge. as there’s no need for him to study the readings assigned in class — he knows all of that shit already — he’s going to do entirely unnecessary additional reading and he’s having the time of his life while he’s at it. his schedule is divided in eating time, homework time, class time, mischief time, staring-at-james time, and an ungodly amount of self-study. sirius is a NERD and a genius one at that, and he flat-out refuses to act shallow when he’s so clearly not; being bright and sharp and demeaning to others is an intrinsic part of him that he’s never going to let go of, not really.

influencer sirius would only be happy if he’s the video essay-kind of influencer. he’s delving into the academia. he’s writing 30 page theses and his vids are just him presenting them. he’s a model? he’s studying international law in his free time. he’s going to LEARN things (and look amazing while doing it). he needs the brain stimulation. he does difficult crosswords and sudokus when he can’t sleep, or at the breakfast table while his attention is thinly divided between three conversations and his cooling coffee. learning is as fun for him as making others feel stupid is.

we NEED more art of him being like this:

but it all makes sense to at least james, and sometimes remus and peter when they’re sleep-deprived enough to keep up with him

[cheezybiscuits]

Field log: Elliot Manor

Note: The following is an illustration and transcription of audio and video recordings streamed from investigation of ground zero for SCP-468395. Instances of SCP-468395-A will continue to be referred to as Corrupted Security Drones (CSD) despite recent discoveries on their origins as standard drones.

Michelle: You hear that? behind the door over there, there's two voices talking.

Jordan: Yep. Could be the target. Stay on guard, she has weapons.

Team proceeds to the end of the hallway. Agents get into position in front of the doors and Jordan kicks it open.

Tessa Elliot: What-

CSD: Yeah NOPE!

Six rapid gunshots are heard and visual feed is disabled. Only one microphone records the following segment.

[04 level clearance required to access full file. Verify clearance level to continue] (Click keep reading)

Tessa Elliot: Wow…uh…okay…you just killed some SCP staff?

No one speaks for 3 seconds.

CSD: Well…yes! They’re hostile and intend to capture us, right?

Tessa Elliot: What happened to the boot licker you described a minute ago?

There is no talking for another 3.5 seconds and the CSD vents air as if to sigh.

Tessa Elliot: Anyway, back to those questions, so [SCP-468395-1-C] wore my skin huh? Is that why my corpse over there looks fresh from the slaughterhouse?

CSD: That’s correct.

Tessa Elliot: And now some gothy lookin' drone ate Cyn’s core and…survived? And has control of the solver now?

CSD: I’m skeptical of the twerp’s success myself.

Tessa Elliot: (chuckling) You keep calling her a twerp but the more you describe this kid the cooler you make her sound.

CSD: You think N is cool, because you’re kind like that.

Tessa Elliot: Psh, nah. He’s pretty cool, especially with the vampire-angel thing going on now.

CSD: Now you’re demonstrating what I just said.

Tessa Elliot: Do you think N would be cooler if he drove a company car?

CSD: On the condition that he'd get an upgrade for his cognitive processor.

Tessa Elliot: Are you sure you'd like that? You'd get competition for employee of the month.

CSD: Not if leadership and being cool are in the criteria.

Both chuckle.

Once again there is no talking for 3 seconds.

CSD: I have questions too.

Tessa Elliot: Oh?

CSD: How do I know I can trust you’re the real Tessa? You could be an anomalous doppleganger, an illusion, or any other type of deceptive SCP.

Tessa Elliot: Huh. (Pause) You got me there. I can’t exactly prove I’m not any of that. I betcha can tell my fingerprints are different, right?

CSD: And your facial structure has slight differences, along with your brain. Oh and I don’t need to scan you to see you’re 4 centimeters shorter than you should be at your alleged age.

Tessa Elliot: Hm. Well that tracks with me being a clone right? And there’s bound to be differences with how fast they grew my body. As for the height uh…I’m not as exactly well fed as I was from before the apocalypse?

CSD: Okay.  Next question: How does a technical genius that's avoiding the foundation think it would be a good idea to go to ground zero?

Tessa Elliot: I kind of wanted to see what was left of my stuff here.

CSD: How is that enough reason to risk all the dangerous-

They pause yet again. This time for 2 seconds. The CSD sighs again.

CSD: You wanted to look at your own corpse didn’t you?

Tessa Elliot: That and see if Dad’s SCP collection is still here.

CSD: …You know what, that passes as Tessa behavior.

Tessa Elliot: Right! Knew you'd come around!

CSD: Next question. You said you're avoiding bunkers since most of them are extensions of SCP-2000 right now and you'd get caught. How do you expect to survive outside of bunkers? What happens if you’re starving and can’t wait out a six-week glass-dust storm to take off your helmet for food or water?

Tessa Elliot: I got my own shelter for that. But I don’t know how much I can tell you about it.

(Transcribers note: What they’re saying next was sometimes hard to make out because they started talking at the same time and interrupting each other a lot. Francis if you find anything inaccurate here I just want to remind you, minimum wage, minimum effort.)

CSD: What? Why? I was completely transparent with you. That’s not-

Tessa Elliot: I kind of….have my own team I’m working with as you’d say? And, I dunno, you said you’re not working for the foundation right now

CSD: Yes but I wasn’t finished-

Tessa Elliot: And we're both different from the last times we saw each other-

CSD: That's true but I still haven't mentioned-

Tessa Elliot: To be blunt I don’t know who your next boss will be but they definitely won’t be friendly to me.

CSD: Yes but please Tessa wait second!

Tessa Elliot: I-alright.

CSD: (Pause) I said I was between employers, but I meant under the previous circumstances. I-it's different now. You're...alive now. Before, you were gone, I had nowhere to apply. Then I read about SCP-2000, and-

They pause again for 4 seconds.

CSD: As long as you’re alive, you’ll always be my boss, Tessa. Just, please, if you'll accept my application.

The subjects pause again for 6 seconds.

CSD: Wait shit-

Tessa Elliot What? What is it?

CSD: Wireless signal in the corner of my eye- son of a bi-

Audio picks up a single gunshot before disconnecting.

[Additional notes: Tessa Elliot has accessed files on recent 05 council members.  It is a top priority to capture and either amnesticize, or terminate the target.]

[dark-and-kawaii]

*leaves a basket of your favorite muffins on door step with a note*

Haarlep with innocent virgin pet and guided masterbaition… can you imagine it, spread out on the bed, their sultry voice whispering in your ear to go deeper, their hand guiding yours to curl into your walls. You’re whining and confused by the tightening in your stomach. Then a faint smell of blood… they look down at your fingers stuffed in your tight hole to see the trickle of blood. Makes Haarlep absolutely hungry…

Sorry I have a corruption kink… honestly can’t stop thinking about all our fav side characters corrupting their sweet darlings.

Like Zevlor who is always so sweet…until he spanks you, first it was just a playful thing that stirred something in you. But know you’re acting up…wanting him to bend you over and spank you all the time and hopefully more. Zevlor doesn’t want to hurt his sweet darling, but you have been acting up lately …and he does love your whining gasps and the red hand print he leaves…maybe he will do more this time than spank you over his knee tonight…

And Rolan, well he loves when he can embarrass you…he will have you strip down for him your face so shy and red as he sits naked and spread rubbing his cock on his chair, then he will make you put it in and shove it all the way with one go so you can ride and bounce on it like a desperate slut…

Sorry! I just had to confess my brain rot!

(⸝⸝⸝O﹏ O⸝⸝⸝)!!!!

I love that you confessed this my kinky, sweet, and delightful anon!!

Oh no you have me acting up now!!! I loved reading this and I won’t lie it made my nipp- *clears throat* anywayyyyy!!!!

I hope everyone enjoys your confession and brain rot!!!

This has my mouth watering and my god, the way I would bend over so fast for Zevlor. The way I would submit to Haarlep, and the way I would cry on Rolan’s lap. Anon you are a genius *claps* thank you for making my day!!! My box is always open for you to talk!!

Zevlor smacking your ass RED, BRUISED.

He’d turn you into a moaning, begging mess. Or even better, imagine he starts using his tail to spank you and eventually it starting creeping closer towards your waiting depths, your sloppy wet hole that’s just waiting to be filled. He hesitates momentarily, but then he remembers how you begged for this, whining until you got your way… So he does what you wish, and he slides the pointed part of his tail inside you. You squirm on his lap, try to scream as it scrapes against your gummy walls but a hard smack against your ass makes you fall silent, only whimpers escaping your throat... It’s okay he’ll take care of you afterwards <3

Ugh and Haarlep, let me tell you I love your mind babes!!! Virgin reader/tav with Haarlep would be an absolute treat. Haarlep wants to watch how you make yourself bleed, loves knowing that it was your fingers with their guidance that caused such a vile scene. Haarlep can’t wait to use your blood as their personal lube, cant wait for their cock to become coated in your blood, can't wait for their tongue to be coated in your blood, the incubus just wants your blood on them. Virgin reader/tav, Haarlep will show you the wonders of the universe. You’ll be broken by the times they’re done with you, you mind filled with only one name, Haarlep.

Rolan is so mean, I legit headcanon that Rolan likes to bully you during sex at times. Especially when he’s all pent up and agitated!!! The way he says, “such a desperate little slut.” As he watches you try and take his long cock, it’s so entertaining for him. At times he’ll even act bored which makes you work his cock even more, forcing it to bottom out. The way you scream as it knocks against your cervix has him grinning, “good girl.” Rolan won’t let you cun right away either, the moment he feels your walls tighten around him he’ll hold your hips still, his nails digging into your flesh, “ah ah, don't cum you greedy little whore. I’m not done yet and you will wait until I am satisfied before I give you any relief.”

[perksofbeingpoet]

☆ THE DEAD POETS AS DETECTIVES ☆

imagine a murder mystery taking place at a remote boarding school in the 50s. the police write the case of an elderly teacher dying off as an accident or old age, but some of the students think there's more to it. these are our detectives...

NEIL: had the idea for the detective club. insists on playing out the scene of the murder, officially to check for any contradictions in witness accounts, secretly just because he enjoys acting in a dramatic murder scene. tends to jump to conclusions too quickly. extreme amount of determination, will find the murderer. good at interrogating suspects because of his trustworthy appearance. understands social connections well.

TODD: only agreed to detect because his friends wanted to. scared of the murderer trying to go after them as soon as he finds out they're chasing him. not scared of blood/gore at all so he's the one who has to examine the body and wounds. takes notes in interrogations. very rational and good at seeing connections, so he's one of the best detectives despite not wanting to be.

KNOX: wants to detect out of a sense of morality, feels like he needs to put things right. lightens the mood with jokes, but is secretly nervous, especially around the body (he does not like dead things). too careless around the scene of crime and clues, touches things without gloves, leaves footprints etc. but unbeatable at talking to suspects/witnesses - he's charming enough to make them let their guard down.

CHARLIE: very witty, has sudden bright moments. extremely daring, does the things the others are too nervous to do - breaks into rooms by climbing up to windows, steals from suspects etc. but he's often too rash, needs to be slowed down a bit so he doesn't immediately double down on one suspect. lightens the mood with jokes, but takes it a bit too far, others have to tell him to concentrate. extremely loyal to the other detectives.

PITTS: pleasantly chill about the whole thing. makes sure everyone still eats and sleeps despite the detection, is also very commited to the detective club. optimistic that they can do it. cannot see blood for the life of him, passes out when they look at the body. his off-hand comments often reveal genius new things, very good at connecting clues to people. smarter than he gives himself credit for. good at picking up emotional undertones in interrogations.

MEEKS: good at being fakely loyal to the school and getting teachers to trust him. the best at listening in to conversations, can blend into the background while overhearing everything a suspect or witness says. knows historical cases which could be similar to the crime. has a harder time understanding the social connections than the rational ones. brings snacks and keeps track of the clues they already found.

CAMERON: conflicted about detecting because the police and school authorities have already solved the case. extremely skilled at remembering things, has an exact time line in his brain for the order in which things must have happened. is chosen to steal evidence from teachers or the head of school because they trust him the most. keeps his friends rational when they run wild with theories.

i thought of these after rereading @redbreastedbird's wonderful murder mystery novels, please check them out!