#if you have any other theories let me know

[basketonthedoorstepofthefbi]

Hello!!! I have a request if that’s okay with you. 💕

Would you maybe write a Spencer x quiet!reader? Where she doesn’t have the courage to talk to him because she’s too shy?

I don’t really have a plot in mind so that’s up to you!! I’m sorry I couldn’t come up with any ideas but hopefully it lets you write whatever you want. Thank you for taking the time to read this. And I read your other stories, you’re so underrated and amazing I love your wording when you write. 🥹🫶🏻🫶🏻

Hi Mary!! Thank you so much for your kind words c:

I did my best c: I hope you like it!

Round Table (Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x shy!gn!reader (if not gn please let me know, but I'm fairly certain it is!)

Word Count: 1538

Warnings: mentions of anxiety, but besides that none?

A/N: this was so fun c: i am really enjoying challenging myself with your guys' requests. hope you enjoy!!

------

You were an incredibly anxious person, which, honestly, was okay. You tried not to let your anxiety hinder your life too much, but like any other human being, sometimes it got in the way. It was frustrating, sure, knowing that a situation would be so much easier if you weren’t so anxious about it, but you reminded yourself often that you weren’t perfect, and neither was anyone else. 

Some people were afraid of heights, of the ocean, of needles. Some people had trouble going out into crowds or grew overstimulated in public places. 

You? You were painfully shy. There was always an adjustment period to being around new people.

Baristas, the bus driver, pharmacy techs, cashiers at the grocery store - you did just fine. But those were one-time interactions, brief discussions that you could compartmentalize. 

They came with a script to follow, with cue cards already queued up in your head as they occurred. You could put on an emotional mask for five minutes while the nurse at the clinic gave you a flu shot. You could smile and speak in your special voice labeled Getting Coffee, an octave higher than you usually spoke, in order to acquire your much-needed beverage. There was a clear goal in mind with each of these dialogues. Sure, you didn’t present as the most confident person in the world, but you always made it through conversations like these without stumbling over your words or being too terribly awkward.  

You didn’t succeed as much with deeper connections, with ones that took time to cultivate. You were a guarded person to begin with, with only a handful of people you felt truly close to. Vulnerability had always been difficult for you, but you supposed you were in the majority on that front. It took a while to become comfortable around coworkers, extended family, hell, even your therapist. You had to have time to adjust, to settle in. 

A lot of people in your life thought you were just socially awkward or even an agoraphobe, but you didn’t mind being around people. It was the intimacy, the connection, the having to give away little pieces of yourself, that made you anxious. It kept you from participating in conversations most of the time, usually only speaking unless spoken to. 

You liked your job as a linguistics and handwriting analyst in the FBI for that very reason. You didn’t have to say much  to people unless it was related to a case. With a clear goal in mind, a threat to neutralize, you could turn on that mechanical part of your brain that spouted off facts, information, theories. You didn’t have to tell anyone about your weekend, about your hopes and dreams or your favorite foods. 

You were consulting on a case for the Behavioral Analysis Unit - a serial killer who stalked his victims months before their murders, sending handwritten letters and using poetry to taunt them. Your supervisor had asked you to collaborate with the BAU, sending you to the sixth floor on your own. 

For the last two days, you’d been working closely with Dr. Spencer Reid - Spencer, he insisted you call him. Just a couple of years older than you, but still very young for his role in the FBI. He was friendly,  and very smart, and he rambled on about all kinds of things - 

Everything, actually. The Chinese food you’d had for lunch on the first day? He explained the origin of fortune cookies. Did you know their first appearance in the US was in San Francisco in the late 1800s? 

Pointing out a Dickinson line in one of the UnSub’s letters? Did you know only ten of Emily Dickinson’s poems were actually published when she was alive and the rest were posthumous? 

You often just nodded along and smiled, occasionally throwing in an oh, that’s very interesting to appear as an active listener. And you were an active listener. You did genuinely think he was interesting, and you found his info dumps to be incredibly endearing. But your contributions to the conversation were abysmal in comparison.

Beyond discussing patterns in the UnSub’s letters and what it might mean for each victim, you had no other fascinating information to share. You didn’t do well with small talk, and Spencer didn’t ask you any overtly personal questions. 

It wasn’t until close to the end of the second day spent in the conference room of the BAU’s office that Spencer asked you a direct question about yourself. 

There were three evidence boards set up, all full of scanned copies of the letters, each one pinned up meticulously by you and Spencer the day before. The large round table in the room had letters stacked out all around it, each one bagged in protective plastic. 

Spencer was standing in front of the evidence boards with his arms crossed over his chest, studying the photocopies with his head inclined to the side. 

He broke the silence you had been slowly settling into the past two days. “Your supervisor said you had a specialization in poetry?” 

You nodded, stepping over to the table and carefully lifting one of the letters up. You liked how he spoke as if you two were in the middle of a conversation, when in fact, it had been totally silent for the past half an hour, save for the soft puttering of the air conditioning vent.

“Studied a lot in undergrad,” you squeaked out, clearing your throat as you held the letter up the fluorescent light above you to examine the stationary. 

“What university did you attend?” Spencer asked, and you turned your head to find him inclining his head to the side. He actually wanted to know? 

“I went to Bennington College to study poetry,” you said softly, suddenly finding it difficult to focus on the letter in your hand. “But I went to graduate school at Georgetown. Master’s in Linguistics.” 

“Really? That’s fascinating,” Spencer commented, which caught you by surprise, especially because he didn’t sound the least bit sarcastic. “That combination of degrees is exceedingly rare. Generally people who major in poetry often either go on to complete as far up as a doctorate in the subject or  they stop at a Bachelor’s degree. The latter statistically don’t end up working in a field related to poetry, either, so their degree is basically useless.” 

You weren’t sure if you were supposed to be offended by that, so instead you just nodded your head politely. “Okay,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“Can I ask you another question?” Spencer asked, and set the letter in your hand down on the table. You smoothed your hands over the fabric of your shirt and nodded. “Do I… do I make you uncomfortable?” 

You shook your head. “No,” you said assuredly, and then, a little more hesitantly, “…why would you ask me that?” 

Spencer turned to face you. “You’re just very quiet unless we’re discussing the case. Which is fine, of course, but I just… I don’t know. I thought maybe you were annoyed by me or I said something to offend you.” 

You felt guilt spread over you and your cheeks turned pink. The last thing you’d wanted was to make anyone feel bad who didn’t deserve it. And the very kind, helpful, and adorable Dr. Spencer Reid was the furthest from deserving to feel bad. 

 “I just don’t talk a lot,” you tried to explain. Your hand rubbed the spot where the top of your chest met the skin of your neck, an anxious habit you’d had for years. “I mean, I do with people I know, and that’s not to say I dominate the conversation by any means, but I just…” you realized you were rambling. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” you added, your voice just above a whisper. 

“Thank you,” Spencer’s lips flickered into a straight-lined smile, one you had seen several times over the past few days, often when unintentional eye contact was made across the table. “For clarifying, I mean, that I didn’t offend you.” He cleared his throat, and leaned against the round table, standing just a few feet from you. Still a very professional and comfortable distance, but closer than he had been before. “So, does that mean that if we got to know each other, you’d talk more?” The corners of his lips spread out and his smile grew. 

You tore your eyes away from his to look at the letter in your hand, the protective plastic around it crinkling between your fingers. You weren’t actually looking at the letter, though. You’d just needed somewhere - anywhere - else to look. “That’s generally how it goes,” you murmured, biting your lip. 

“So, if I were to, for example, ask you to meet me for dinner sometime, could the getting to know each other happen there?” 

Your eyes fluttered over to Spencer’s and you saw him smiling. You could tell by how he looked at you, with his head inclined just slightly to the side, that he was being fully serious. You nodded, unable to control the small smile on your face. 

Spencer grinned, and you could tell he couldn’t resist when he spoke again. “So, is that a yes?” 

#spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #basketonthedoorstepofthefbi #criminal minds spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x self insert

[minsh0e]

mini astrology observations 2/?

hi hi ! i am back with another mini astrology observations. I want to thank you all for such an amazing reaction to my “work”, and for all your positive/negative comments that you left for me. these opinions make me realize a lot and will definitely make me grow further in the future… before you move on to the reading, i want to say, that I am not a professional, so take everything lightly. as always, have fun reading <3

p.s. - photos are mine :)

...

☆ people with empty 1st house may lack life guidance or be less aggressive while voicing their opinions. on the contrary though, they might judge people based on their personality and manners, not appearance or first impressions.

☆ libra risings literally don’t have to wear makeup as they look/feel better without it

☆ in my first/last observations, i talked about the mars and/trine venus synastry and how it can be the first thing that pulls you in. in this case, mars represents the man and venus represents the woman. last time, i talked about how i got attracted to the men, who have mars in the same element as my venus but i haven´t mentioned, that all of them had virgo mars...

i have a theory of mine (that i observed on me and others) in which venus mostly gets attracted to the mars sign of same element that is positioned clockwise (e.g. scorpio -> cancer) and mars mostly gets attracted to the venus that is positioned anti-clockwise (cancer -> scorpio)…i have, however, observed this on people who are attracted to the opposite gender not the same gender, therefore, i can’t really tell you nothing about how this works for homosexuals.

-> please let me know what you think about this/what are your experiences if you have time :)

☆ this is a very random observation that you can skip if you want to…our dog it considered to be beautiful by most of the people we met/meet. he has shiny, colorful fur, symmetrical face and body color placements. i decided to check out his natal chart for fun and found out, that he has libra venus in 5th house…interpret this as you want, but i guess, that you can really apply astrology to anything :)

☆ people with sagittarius mars are the ones, who love the sports/movement the most. they are amazing at doing anything physical, so you can literally see them being great at any sport…even if they do it for the first time. they may be interested in a lot different kinds too.

☆ those with lilith in 8th house get sexualized/objectified a lot. if you have lilith (or any other lilith) in this house, you were most likely introduced to the “sexual” more early in your life and matured more faster then your other peers. also, you might be randomly called/shouted at by other disrespectful people on the streets…i was really surprised to find out, that this is not really talked about that much, so here i am…

☆ another observation i talked about in past were pisces/12th house placements. i talked about how sleepy and tired they can get without any specific reason but let me tell you…all the water signs/house placements get like this and it's mostly because of said no reason or when they get tired just by thinking about working on something/having to describe something to the other person. they treasure their energy and how they spend it.

☆ degrees are a very important part of reading an astrology…if you have time, please learn/read about them

…

the end.

these observations were slightly shorter, so i am sorry about that :(

again, feel free to leave your feedback :)

#zodiac #astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #astrology notes #astro notes #natal chart #natal chart observations #synastry chart #synastry chart observations #astrology community #synastry #synastry observations

[nahoney22]

Hello there!

Can you do a fluff request with Tech please.

6. Dance with me? And 13. Shut up and kiss me already.

Your writing is amazing and so very inspiring x

Choices 🌊

🫧 Pairing: Tech X Female Reader

word count: 1.6k

Prompts:

“Dance with me?”

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

Summary: When a date stands you up, Tech finally takes the chance to make a move.

Warnings: Safe for Work, Fluff, Reader gets Stood Up, First Kiss, Mutual Pining, Slow Dancing, Female Reader.

Authors note: Thanks for the request and kind words! Enjoy 😊

You twirl the ice cubes in your nearly empty glass with your yellow and pink striped straw, the thumping music of the club fading into the background as the realisation sinks in: you've been stood up.

You had decided to navigate the dating scene to which had been a rollercoaster. After realising your feelings weren't going to be ever reciprocated by the one you truly loved, you decided to broaden your horizons. Maybe taking your mind off him. So, you signed up for a dubious dating site on the holonet which only yielded disappointing results, to put it mildly.

Match after match failed to impress. They either droned on about themselves, were impolite to the staff, or made cringe-worthy remarks that you just don’t say on a first date. It was a string of bad experiences. And now, the guy you'd been chatting with for weeks had ghosted you.

Glancing at the clock above the bar, you signal to the service droid. "Could I have another one of these, please?" you request, motioning to your empty glass. The droid beeps in confirmation before attending to your order.

Sighing, you slump your head into your hands, regretting the effort you put into dressing up for this date, only to end up drinking alone. But, your solitude is short-lived.

As you're about to pay for your drink, a hand intercepts yours, and you look up in surprise to see a familiar pair of goggles and eyes, offering to foot the bill. "Allow me."

"Tech? What are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you since you didn't respond to any of our messages," Tech explains, settling onto the stool beside you and leaning forward on the bar. "Where is he?"

You pause, considering whether to lie or not. After all, it was Tech whom you truly loved. Despite your attempts at flirting, his lack of response or reciprocation left you hesitant to confess your feelings.

Others would advise you to tell him straight rather than hint but the fear of rejection loomed large, so you let your emotions for him simmer but never fully blossom. "He didn't show," you finally admit with a sigh, tracing your arm with your fingertips.

"Oh," Tech responds, and you nurse your new drink, the silence between you turning somewhat awkward.

"Thanks for the drink, by the way," you say, breaking the quiet, and he offers a light smile.

"Not a problem. I apologise about your date not turning up. It is his loss," Tech says, his words eliciting a flutter in your stomach that you try to ignore.

You offer a dry laugh and a shrug before taking a sip through the straw. "Thanks, Tech. I'll probably finish this and head out."

Tech pauses, glancing around. "There aren't many patrons here. I’m relieved your date didn't show. It is not ideal to be in such a quiet club with few witnesses if something were to go wrong."

You pull a face at his caution. "Why say that?"

"You never know who you might encounter on the holonet. Choosing a very quiet club isn't the safest option," he explains, prompting an eye roll from you as you take another sip of your drink.

Then, you ask him, "So, where would you take someone on a date?"

He falls silent, his gaze drifting into contemplation. "I have pondered, in theory, that if I were to pursue someone, I would opt for a restaurant. Establishing eye contact is pivotal, followed by discussions about our lives. Then, perhaps, a stroll."

You hum softly, resisting the urge to picture yourself as his date, seated across from him, indulging in delectable cuisine as he shares his sentiments, followed by a romantic walk. "That sounds lovely. They’d be very lucky."

"I'm pleased you think so. Now, I pose the same question to you, as I doubt this club aligns with your idea of a first date," he counters as he does a brief scan of the area, prompting a laugh from you—he's not entirely wrong.

"I'm not entirely sure, to be honest. It depends on whether I like the person or not. I'd prefer to be with someone I enjoy doing something with, rather than doing something with someone I don't," you admit, reminiscing about the countless hours you spent simply conversing with Tech in the cockpit.

A smile graces his lips at your words. "That's endearing."

You take another sip of your drink, emptying it in a few swallows before sighing and preparing to depart. "I should be on my way."

"Very well," Tech nods, but a sudden surge of courage overtakes him as he grasps your upper arm, halting your departure. "What about dancing?"

You glance at his hand on your arm, then up at him with furrowed brows. "What about it?"

"Do you... enjoy it?" he asks, his apprehension palpable as he carefully selects his words.

"I can't say I've had much experience with it. Why do you ask?" you inquire, feeling your heart quicken as he rises and steps closer.

"Dance with me?" he proposes.

You? Dance with Tech? Was this some bizarre turn of events, or perhaps a dream induced by something that Droid had put in your drink? "You don't dance," you blurt out, puzzled by his unexpected request.

He chuckles at your incredulous expression and your swift observation of his lack of dancing skills. "No, I do not. But, I don't see why we both can't give it a try together."

Part of you hopes that you detected a hint of nervousness in his demeanor, perhaps stemming from the fact that he's asking you to dance rather than his own dancing abilities. So, you offer a shy smile and nod. "Okay then."

His smile widens, his eyes gleaming behind his goggles as he releases your arm and gestures for you to lead the way to the main dance floor. The music pulses softly, with a gentle rhythm that invites movement. The deep purple strobe lights dancing off your bodies.

Neither of you seem entirely sure of what to do next, exchanging uncertain glances until he clears his throat and extends his hand to you. Your cheeks warm while your fingers slip into his as he draws you closer, his other hand finding its place on your hip as yours rests on his opposite shoulder.

You initiate a small side step, and Tech follows suit, occasionally glancing down at your feet before meeting your gaze. "This is unexpected... but nice," you murmur softly, even as your whole body tingles with a mixture of excitement and apprehension.

A part of you cautions against letting your hopes get the better of you, reminding you that this shouldn't be happening. Yet, as you lock eyes with him, he holds your gaze, a rare silence settling between you. And he always has something to say.

Drawing you closer than before, your cheek rests against his chest as the two of you sway to the music, his chin gently resting atop your head. "May I ask you a question?" he ventures after a minute or two.

"Uh-huh," you reply, your eyes fluttering closed as you savour the moment.

"Why did you not choose me?" he inquires, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it reverberates in the stillness of the moment.

Your eyes flutter open, and you tilt your head back, peering up at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion. The dim light of the club casts a soft glow on his face, illuminating the earnestness in his gaze. "What do you mean?" you inquire, your voice barely above a whisper, hardly audible over the pulsating music.

He bites the inside of his cheek, a brief flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he readjusts his goggles with a practiced hand. "You've... flirted with me on numerous occasions," he explains, his tone careful and measured, "yet you chose to pursue someone else."

His words leave you momentarily speechless, your mind racing to comprehend the implications of his confession. He knew about your attempts at flirting? The realisation sends a shiver down your spine. "Tech," you begin, meeting his gaze with furrowed brows, "you never indicated that you wanted me to stop, or that you felt the same way. I just assumed..."

"That I did not share the same feelings you have for me? That I could not?” His voice is soft, yet it carries a weight that hangs in the air between you.

"Do you?" you whisper, feeling the flutter of anticipation in your chest, your heart pounding against your ribs as if seeking escape from the intensity of the moment.

He nods solemnly, his gaze unwavering as he meets your eyes. "I didn't know how to tell you," he admits, "Expressing emotions is not exactly second nature to me. It was not until the others pointed out your advances that I realised it was too late to respond."

As he starts to explain, his words tumbling out in a rush, you can't help but notice the warmth spreading across his cheeks, the nervous energy that radiates from him. It's endearing, seeing him flustered like this, and it emboldens you to take action.

Releasing his hand from your grasp, you reach up to gently cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly against his skin. "Shut up and kiss me already.”

Tone soft but resolute, a playful glint dancing in your eyes has him leaning into you without a second thought.

His lips meet yours in a tender and hesitant touch. Warm. Soft. They were everything you had imagined. Everything around you seems to vanish, just you and him caught in the moment. Then, you can feel him smile against your lips as he draws you near, body flushed to his as his lips move along with yours with a gentle passion.

As he pulls away for a breath, both of your heartbeats shattering your eardrums, he smiles lovingly at you. “Do not hesitate to tell me to shut up and kiss you again.”

Masterlist

More Tech Works

Tags: @littlefeatherr r @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @jesseeka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri i @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog @chrissywakingup @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 7 @ezras-left-thumb @the-rain-on-kamino @lamiliani @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @thesith @raevulsix @cw80831 @knightprincess @crosshairlovebot @imalovernotahater @sithstrings @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad @yunggoblin @photogirl894 @the-bad-batch-baroness @lulalovez @thiswitchloves9904

#tech x reader #the bad batch #the bad batch tech #tech the bad batch #bad batch tech x reader #tbb tech x reader #tbb #nahoney22 writes #bad batch tech #bad batch

[roo-bastmoon]

Off My Chest

Rant about Hybe under the cut. I give you my word I will try to post a majority of positive content, because the world (and my mental health) doesn't need more negativity, but sometimes you just gotta vent.

Folks, if you've known me for a hot second, you've realized I am a Jimin-biased Jikooker... but I am OT7, and I sincerely love and support BTS.

I believe Jimin is a grown man who can advocate for himself and I believe Jungkook absolutely supports and adores him, whatever their relationship status is.

I always try to accentuate the positive and avoid online drama and negativity as much as possible, but I need to get this off my chest.

I will never be gas-lit into believing that the way Jimin was treated in solo era was fair, or equitable, or even made any kind of business-sense. I've genuinely tried to entertain other people's points of view and listen to people who claim to have industry expertise, but...

I will never forget his mail being tampered with four times, his leaked insurance information, denial of more music videos, overlapped solo release, only 9 days of promotion, split title tracks, no radio or play-listing, no bio for his Spotify for months, no restock of his single CD for months, hundreds of thousands of frozen and deleted sales, millions of culled streams, shady articles in WeVerse and Billboard, insulting dialogue in In the Seom, failure to submit to RIAA certification for months, only a paywall documentary on WeVerse, zero official acknowledgement of his Hot 100 #1, 1 billion streams on Spotify, or wins for The Fact, MAMA, and two Webbys, plus broken in-ears, anemic little balloons and a sad background tarp as decorations for his fan events… and the company telling him how doing more would just be impossible.

I compare all that to the push that other members and other groups got, and I know it just isn't true. It wasn't impossible.

Hell, Jeon Jungkook put in more effort to promote Jimin’s work and showed more respect for Jimin as an artist during his at-home lives than that whole company did, which honestly makes no sense from a profit standpoint.

I will never forget it, and I will not entertain arguments that say I’m a solo or an anti or jealous about it. I have eyes.

I am not out to shade any other members nor put forth any conspiracy theories. I simply want all our boys to get everything they justly deserve.

And yes, other members have suffered mishaps and neglect, but nothing of this scale, this consistently. It baffles me, I cannot understand it, and I'm done trying. Something strange was going on behind the scenes and we may never be privy to the details.

In trying to put this awful feeling behind me, I will say I am elated that Jikook are serving together and can support each other. I am glad there will be a Jikook travel show. I'm continually impressed with all of Jimin's success (in the military and professionally) despite all odds. I will always love and support all of BTS with my full heart.

And I sincerely hope the company has been taking notes and course-corrects for PJM2, even if it rubs some higher ups the wrong way if they had a different vision. Considering Jimin’s unique talents and his amazing star power—even his ability to bring Paris and New York to a screaming standstill just for the opportunity to see him exit a car—I would hope the company will “do their best to promote all labels and artists without discrimination” going forward.

But what happened truly sucked, and I needed to get that off my chest. I am not interested in further discussion or debate. I am now going to do my best to shift my focus and energy on to the things I want to manifest, instead of the things that enrage me.

So let me end on a positive and hopeful note: I put all my trust in Jimin, who signed a new contract with Hybe and who unfailingly adores all his members. There can be no love without trust. I will always do my best to trust BTS.

But I'm watching carefully. For Jimin and all our boys.

Love, Roo

#jimin #jikook #park jimin

[vivisols]

what’s the fizzyfaz theory

OK SO! THE FIZZYFAZ THEORY... THERES A LOT OF THINGS CONNECTED TO FIZZYFAZ. LIKE. A LOT A LOT. NOW I MEAN IT WHEN I SAY BE PREPARED BECAUSE THIS IS. A LOT LMAO

in fnaf security breach there are cans of fizzyfaz that you can collect right? theres also this message that goes along with them!

interestingly enough, this message mentions grape, lemonade, and cherry fizzyfaz. however, while you can get grape fizzyfaz in game, you cant actually get plain lemonade or cherry. there's only orange, sour lime, pink lemonade, as well as grape, which is strange. theyre mentioned in the message, so where did normal lemonade and cherry go? well before we get to that, lets take a look at the fizzyfaz flavors that we can actually get in game!

quite obviously glamrock branded! for freddy, we have orange, for monty, we have sour lime, for chica, we have pink lemonade, and for roxy we have grape.

considering what we know about the glamrocks, we can start to deduce what each flavor might mean about each bandmate personality wise, as its obvious that theres some tie in with their marketed personalities.

(the rest of it is under the cut for everyones sanity)

freddy makes sense as orange because he's sweet and mellow. monty makes sense as sour lime because he's more of a rebellious cool guy. chica makes sense as pink lemonade because she's also sweet, though she's even moreso than freddy is. and roxy makes sense as grape because she's cool and different like monty, though she is be shown to be sweet at times (as in with Cassie in ruin)

these four flavors seem pretty normal right? theyre obviously color/flavor coded to each member of the glamrocks. however the actual flavors that were chosen in game have always stuck out to me for one reason.

THEYRE ALL CITRUS EXCEPT FOR GRAPE. lemon, lime, and orange are all citrus fruits. strange, right?

now you could always argue that it is fazbear is making these things, and that it's cheapest to produce like idk. a base citrus flavor and then add the additional flavors accordingly. but then why is roxy's and ONLY Roxy's grape flavored instead of being another citrus? grape is a pretty weird flavor to pair with 3 citrus flavors. hold on to that for now.

plus, roxy has another connection with distinct and stand-out fizzyfaz flavors. she specifically has an advertisement for her own type of limited edition cola flavor.

no other animatronic has advertising in game for any limited edition flavors. just roxy which really peaked my interest! wouldn't they do a promo with every glamrock? ok well, maybe since its limited edition the other glamrocks' special flavor runs have already ended and hers just wrapped up/is about to.

but wait, theres even more to do with roxy and fizzyfaz.

in help wanted 2 in the staff bot food prep mini games for el chips and the kitchen, you can serve four flavors of soda. orange, sour lime, pink lemonade, and.... sodaroni. aka not grape fizzyfaz.

ISNT THAT WEIRD??? not to mention how specifically in the theater version of food prep, theres no fizzyfaz at all. instead, we can serve exotic beverage, dj music man's techno-cooler, chicachug, and.... sodaroni again.

isn't that weird? the theater is also an interesting choice for the final food prep level to take place in considering that it's clearly not the most popular attraction, as well as the fact that we're in a whole mall with multiple food stands. you can argue that it's also one of the few places with a kitchen, but i believe that this choice was made on purpose for a different reason.

after all, who is tied to the theater as well as the only character to actually talk about fizzyfaz in game?

thats right.

THE DAYCARE ATTENDANT.

I mean i was gonna tie them to this somehow! the connection is obvious!!

like… theres a soda dispenser in the ACTUAL DAYCARE ITSELF.

theres also numerous ones outside and in the theater lobby. interesting, right? so much soda promo in the daycare area, yet they dont even serve the main soda brand of fizzyfaz in the theater food prep level... how interesting.

and now for something ive seen literally no one talk about. in the theater basement theres a room with the purple stars painted on the walls outside. inside that room, sitting on a filing cabinet under gold balloons that spell out ‘5TAR’ as well as a sundrop poster, theres ANOTHER soda dispenser. yet instead of one of the fancy digital ones, it's just a simple soda dispenser like we see in the kitchen above.

interesting choice for a soda dispenser location, right? there aren’t any others in the theater basement. just this one.

let’s take a look at this room. specifically the vanity.

there’s a flower pot, a trophy, some makeup brushes, and interestingly enough, a whole nail polish stand with a variety of colors. the uniqueness of this whole room makes me think that it’s meant to stand out. not to mention the fact that there’s a connected bathroom with two stalls in it. after all, the other rooms are just standard dressing rooms.

maybe i’m just reaching here, but i think that this was a theater staff break room, as well as some kind of animatronic prep room for sun and moon’s performances. they used to be the theater bot, after all.

so sun and moon have obviously been around for a while, as evident by all the wear and tear they have. plus in the tales from the pizzaplex books the daycare is mentioned to be an attraction that was built later on. it wasn’t there when the pizzaplex first opened.

but the theater was.

and since the out of place soda dispenser was in a room in the theater basement, there’s a chance that it served fizzyfaz.

cherry fizzyfaz.

i may just be grasping at straws here, but cherry… kind of fits the DCA really well. i mean, it isn’t a citrus fruit like the glamrocks (minus Roxy) have. sun has red and yellow pants, moon has red eyes, and they both have red ribbons with two bells around their wrists. the overall theater is pretty red too.

besides the overall red coloring of the theater and the red on the DCA, the cherry flavoring would fit sun and moon pretty well too! cherries can be either sweet or sour, and are often a balanced mix of both, which would be a nice tie in to sun and moon’s good and evil double act in the theater!

so when the daycare got built and sun and moon were transferred over from the theater, the cherry flavor likely got pulled or discontinued. probably because the theater wasn't as popular as fazbear wanted it to be. and thus in help wanted 2 in their food prep minigame, there was no fizzyfaz. they lost fizzyfaz privileges from management when they were moved to the daycare LMAO

and there we have it. sun and moon are the probable answer for who the cherry fizzyfaz flavor belonged to.

but what about lemonade fizzyfaz?

well, lemonade has a much easier answer. it’s a citrus flavor too, of course. and every bowling alley i’ve ever been to has served an abundance of lemonade lmao

so YEAHHH it’s probably Glamrock Bonnie’s flavor. i mean, he's got a yellow star on his chest, a yellow bass, and yellow sunglasses. plus blue is the opposite of yellow...

though... personality wise, we know basically nothing about the guy other than he was maybe probably laid back considering how bonnie is in fazbear and friends. and lemonade is a pretty chill drink. i mean glamrock bonnie also died and was possessing all the wet floor bots or stuff in ruin and like theyre yellow too or something idk....

with this lineup the band would still have 3/4 citrus flavors, with... two lemonades. interestingly. and tbh i think that the majority of citrus is potentially the most important factor in this theory.

i mean freddy, chica, and bonnie are the OGs. the MAIN THREE from fnaf 1 days. so ofc they'd all be similar flavors (even if there are two lemonades... no idea what fazbear would have been cooking with that one lol) and yeah, foxy is an OG too, but he wasn't actually part of the main band until later on lol

yet in security breach, we don't get a glamrock foxy. we get roxanne wolf, who is an entirely new character, so it makes sense for her to not have a similarly citrus flavor.

grape is the only one mentioned in the message that you can actually get in game. and if the lemonade and cherry have been discontinued since bonnie was decommissioned and sun and moon were moved from the daycare to the theater, then...

it's clearly been a while. and if it's been a while and there's still grape fizzyfaz, which would make no sense for foxy to have (as the statue of him in kids cove is nowhere near purple) then roxy has been around for a while. and if she's been around since the dca was in the theater, then she never replaced foxy!!!! wild and crazy am I right

and yes! you could also argue the opposite and that bonnie's flavor was cherry while the dca's flavor was lemonade, which likely makes more sense.

the DCA has yellow as both sun and moon, with sun's overall coloring and his pants and stuff, and the stars on moon's pants and the bells on both of their wrists. and lemonade can be sweet or sour. like their act. and fazbear pulled it because nobody really cared about the theater or just plain lemonade fizzyfaz as opposed to the cool pink lemonade chica had.

plus bonnie is more red than yellow, with his reddish-pink jumpsuit and his red eyes. and cherry could maybe work for him? again, we barely know anything about his personality... then when he got decommissioned, they replaced his unique cherry flavor with another citrus to cut costs.

though we really have no way of telling which was the real flavors for each of them or if they even were flavors that were produced at all!! after all, the message says 'COPY FOR APPROVAL', so lemonade and cherry might have been scrapped all together....

this is all just speculation from yours truly, since im such a big flavored drink fan and i really want more people to talk about the fizzyfaz... ,:3c

and now onto my next theory, which is that the DCA is the real one have to killed glamrock bonnie...

#vivispeaks #ask #fizzyfaz theory #I JUST WANT CHERRY TO BE THE DCA FLAVOR OKAY. I LOVE CHERRY #fizzyfaz #sun fnaf #moon fnaf #dca fnaf #glamrock bonnie #glamrock chica #glamrock freddy #glamrock animatronics #montgomery gator #monty gator #roxanne wolf #roxy wolf #fnaf security breach #fnaf sb #security breach

[thoughtless-muse]

a/n: the title (and some other parts of the story) are inspired by the song ‘bad blood’ by taylor swift and no, i am not ashamed of it lmao. this is my first time ever diving into this type of story, so I’m equal parts excited and terrified. if you have any critiques/tips, please let me know below! also, “scout’s honor” is by no means abandoned. I’m going to be writing/posting chapters of each story at their own pace :)

chapter summary: you had been alone for over a month now, combating against stumbling dead people who slobbered for your flesh. when a random stranger finds you in the aftermath of a blackout, the last thing you expected was for him to ask you to join his group. but he did, and in a desperate move to escape those four walls, you accepted – not knowing at all what was in store for you.

word count: 2.4k

c/w: canon-typical violence/gore, sassy!reader, fem!reader, language, past-established relationship, very subtle allusions to a troubled past

prologue

“hey, lady, are you, uh… are you okay?”

the words were garbled and a tad distorted, and for a moment, you thought you’d merely conjured the voice from the depths of your frayed conscious — but the boyish face that stared down at you when you fluttered your eyes open threw that theory straight out of the window.

for a moment, you simply stared in silence. you stared at the boy’s face, taking note of the pink flush of life to his flesh — not gray, not rotted, not bloody; pink. his face was clammy, sweaty, with the skin pulled in different directions to paint an expression of worry; an honest to god expression.

a person. this was a living, breathing, real person standing above you. at least, he seemed real enough, but —

“are you real?”

the question bubbled, croaky and hoarse, past your lips before you could reign it in. the boy scrunched his bushy brows together and his squinted eyes narrowed until they were near closed. a clear expression of confusion. huh, another expression.

“um, yeah, I am.” the boy responded, though, in his bewilderment, the statement sounded more like a question than a fact. a laugh wrenched itself from your chest.

“you don’t sound too confident about that, mystery man.”

“I-I’ve just never been asked that question before.” the boy sputtered, a tad defensively, lips pulling into a frown. expression after expression from this one, it seemed.

“I haven’t had to ask that question before,” you grumbled out. pain pinched your ribs when you propped yourself up on your elbows, no longer feeling the need to lay flat on the warm pavement. “don’t exactly see new faces in the city much, let alone breathing ones.”

“you mean you’ve been in the city this whole time?” the boy exclaimed quietly; his eyes were wide now, revealing orbs the shade of dark chocolate. they weren’t fogged over, dead, or unseeing, but glassy and expressive. human.

a ragged, raspy croak broke off your sentence before you could even start it. your muscles jolted in response, but before you could react, the boy let out a shocked yelp that was followed quickly by a wet squelch right next to you. you trailed your eyes down to find a small hand-ax splitting the rotted flesh of the groaner to your right. the one you swore you’d killed not long ago.

“huh. thought I got that one,” you noted mellowly, swinging your eyes back up to the boy to give him a small nod. “thanks.”

“yeah, uh, no problem.” the boy panted, returning your nod. his eyes darted from side to side before he thrust out a hand to you. all you could do was stare at it.

“it’s not safe out here in the open. we should really get inside a building or something,” the man suggested, words edged with subtle nervousness. you scanned your surroundings slowly; there was a cluster of groaners shuffling towards you, but they were at least twenty yards away — not much of a threat given the granny crawl they were traveling at.

mystery man, however, became more nervous at the sight of them.

“c’mon, I know a place that’s clear. it’s not far from here.” he urged, extended hand trembling faintly. you let out a huff and grasped it with your own. your ribs bloomed with pain once again when the man hauled you up, but you bit back the groan that it prompted; you’d had worse than this, and you’d long since learned to suck it up and just keep truckin’.

when you were stable on your feet the man released your hand and reached down to free the hand-ax from the fallen groaner’s head, his face scrunching in disgust at the wet sucking sound the action elicited. it actually amused you to an extent.

“okay, mystery man, lead the way to safety.” you stated flippantly, manipulating your arm in a ‘the stage is yours’ sort of gesture. the man gave you a bit of a stinky side-eye before jerking his head to the left.

“it’s just this way,” he whispered. he padded to the sidewalk quietly, head whipping in each direction, body tense as if he expected a groaner to simply jump out unannounced at any moment.

what a scaredy cat, you thought jocularly.

“also, my name is glenn, not ‘mystery man.’” he added in a mutter.

you merely hummed in acknowledgment, more so for the man than yourself; you knew that by sundown he’d be gone with the wind, you’d forget all about this glenn fellow, and his name would be lost to your memory forever. no point in trying to stick it there in the first place.

silently, glenn led you through skinny, trashed back alleys and skirted past dilapidated structures, until at last he reached a large brick building. the door, which looked to be some sort of emergency exit, was a cool, gray metal, the hinges lined with rust and the surface slightly bleached from the harsh rays of the sun.

“it’s in here,” glenn murmured, grasping the handle and yanking it open. the hinges gave a deep, audible screech as he did so. “we cleared this out a few days ago.”

“we?” you parroted, trepidation flaring in your gut. it was fine when it was just glenn, but the thought of a group of people, one composed of unknown numbers, set off all kinds of alarms in your head.

groaners you could handle any day of the week; they were predictable, simple — just ambling corpses with no real thought process. humans… humans were different. complex, unpredictable, dangerous.

glenn noticed immediately when you hadn’t followed him through the threshold of the door; he glanced back at you, brows scrunched once more in confusion — it only took him a few moments to register the look upon your face before his eyes were widening and he was sputtering, “o-oh, it’s fine, my group isn’t – uh, they’re not dangerous. they won’t hurt you. and in any case, they aren’t w-with me today – I always make runs alone.”

“I’m s’posed to take your word for it?” you shot back, eyes narrowed dangerously. glenn gulped audibly and flicked his eyes between you and the interior of the building, lips working without producing any sound. he looked so helpless, like a lost puppy, that you couldn’t stop yourself from deflating.

“I believe you,” you uttered. “at least, I will for now. I mean, you don’t look all that dangerous. I reckon I could knock you on your ass in two seconds flat.”

a threat wrapped up within a petulant jab; not exactly your proudest moment, but part of you felt cornered, and it seemed to get the job done. glenn’s eyes flashed with surprise, and maybe a bit of fear, and his voice was less than stable when he murmured, “there’s no one else in there, I swear.”

the tense set of his shoulders, his wide eyes, and the shakiness in his voice seemed so genuine, that you couldn’t help but bark out a laugh.

“are you actually scared of me, mystery man?” you jested, genuinely bemused by how sincerely glenn considered your concealed threat. was he actually taking you seriously? glenn’s throat flexed as he swallowed and nodded.

“well, I just watched you take down about a dozen geeks with just a pocket knife; so, yeah, kind of.”

you chuckled to yourself and gave glenn a once over. maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all. he appeared genuine and harmless. kinda cute, too; in an innocent, boyish way, of course – boyish had never exactly been your style, but you could enjoy the aesthetic of it.

“well, glenn, why don’t you go ahead and show me around?” you purred, rolling his name across your tongue and not bothering to wait for a verbal confirmation. you pushed past glenn and into the dank, dusty building, eyes immediately sweeping across the bare shelves and stained walls. not a groaner, nor human, in sight.

glenn ambled further in and shut the door behind him with a soft whoosh and click. the room became near saturated in darkness, the only light being that of the sunlight filtering weakly through the gaps between the boards nailed to the windows. glenn wasn’t lying when he said it had been cleared out, but he didn’t mention anything about it being groaner-proof.

“is this, like, where your group stays or somethin’?” you inquired, your eyes narrowed and scrutinizing of every detail. there were no mats or makeshift beds that you could see, no visible provisions, and the space lacked the tell-tale signs of human inhabitance.

“oh, no, uh, this is just a rendezvous point – or, it will be. like I said before, I mostly do runs on my own.” glenn passed by you as he explained, coming to a kneel in the middle of the floor where the sunlight was most luminous. he slipped a large, beige bag from his shoulder and planted it on the ground, flipping the top and burying his hand inside.

“runs?” you wondered aloud, watching the man closely as he began to pull items from the bag one by one. medical gauzes, bottles of hydrogen peroxide, boxes of bandaids, a couple cans of vegetables occupied the space beside him bit by bit.

“yeah, runs. we made a camp a while back, at an old quarry just outside the city. food and water aren’t much of issue there, but other things” – glenn glanced up at you a bit sheepishly – “well, they run short sometimes.”

“so they send you out alone to get them?” you surmised, prompting an airy chuckle from the kneeling man.

“ah, no, I actually offered. I know the city like the back of my hand. getting in and out is no problem for me.”

you nodded your understanding, chewing the tender skin on the inside of your cheek – you were inclined to believe glenn, considering he had yet to prove himself untrustworthy, but there was something that was gnawing at you; something that you needed some clarification on.

“so, uh, if you came out here to get supplies, why’d’ya come over to me? and why did you bring me here?”

glenn paused his task for a brief moment before sighing softly. his lips thinned as he seemed to ponder how to answer.

“because I made a promise to myself. I told myself that if I ever ran across someone here in the city, I’d ask if they want to come back with me,” glenn answered quietly, though by the clench of his jaw, you could tell he wasn’t quite done with his explanation, so you bit back the other questions swirling on your tongue. “I guess I just hoped to myself that if the roles were ever reversed, someone would do the same for me.”

the residual tension that had been locking up your shoulders ever since entering the building drained away like a river to the ocean. you smiled softly and plopped down on the floor a few feet away from glenn. with a teasing warmth in your chest, you queried, “so you saw me and decided you wanted me to come home with you?”

glenn rolled his eyes, but the flush in his cheeks betrayed the effect your suggestive comment had on him.

“not like that, it’s just – it’s just that things aren’t as easy as they used to be. your best chance at survival is with a group.”

“I’ve done fine on my own,” you responded back flippantly, planting your palms behind you and leaning your weight back atop them. “I mean, I’ve been here since it started.”

glenn swiped his tongue over his bottom lip nervously, scanning through the contents on the floor before rapidly scooping them back into his bag.

“yeah, I, uh, I noticed that you’re capable. it’s just that – things won’t always be so easy, you know?”

irritation shot through your chest like a hot lance, your somewhat good mood ruined instantly.

“did I say it was easy?” you seethed, anger punctuating your every movement as you swung your hands back in front of you and leaned forward.

just as it had at the door, glenn’s mouth began to open and close rapidly as he tried desperately to recover. his wide eyes flicked down to your waistline, the area he knew held your pocket knife, and he scooted back a small bit while simultaneously dragging his bag in front of his body; an attempt to keep distance between the two of you.

“I-I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant that – that without a group, surviving will get harder and harder.”

you weren’t entirely sure if it was from lack of sleep, stress, or the cursed, buried memories that had been incessantly dragging themselves back up despite your multiple efforts to keep them down, but you had been highly irritable the last few days. every time you closed your eyes, you saw his face, you heard his voice, taunting you with the sweet nothings he whispered long ago. you still felt his phantom touches that had long since grown cold.

you just wanted it to stop.

you wanted to find the strength to throw that little box out of the fucking window, and to burn that one shirt he left, the only things left to remind you that he wasn’t just some conjured fever dream. that’s why you’d been out in the street in the first place, drawing as many groaners as you could to yourself just so you could picture his face as you plunged your knife through their soft, rotten skulls.

and maybe, just maybe, find the strength to drop the knife and let it end.

but you just couldn’t. you couldn’t throw the box out, you couldn’t burn the shirt, and you most definitely couldn’t let yourself die; it went against everything he taught you.

with a sigh, you opened your eyes, which you had never even remembered closing, and regarded glenn once more. his eyes were still wide, clouded with something that was a mixture of nervous and worried, his hand trembled atop his bag, and his bottom lip wavered.

“you said you promised yourself that you’d invite whoever you found in the city to your camp, yeah?” you quizzed, the question one that glenn had not expected you to ask, if the brief confusion on his face was any indicator. after a moment’s hesitance, glenn nodded.

“yeah… our camp is pretty well established, and I know we’ve got room for others. does that, uh – does that mean you want to come back with me?”

you’d never second guessed your choices, nor the consequences of those choices, and you weren’t about to start now — so, with a cheeky smile and a wink, you purred,

“sure thing, glenn. I’ll come home with you.”

a/n: so I recently checked my analytics and uh… 114 followers?? what??? like I’m — I’m speechless y’all. thank you so so much I can’t even begin to express how much it means to me <3 I promise I’ll be doing my best to dutifully deliver content to y’all as fast as possible <33333

TAGLIST: @daryldixmedown @alanalanalanalanalanna @just-always-tired @chylerluvschim @girlydollydarling @marvelcasey05

#daryl x reader #twd daryl #twd x reader #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd

[azrielbrainrot]

I Laugh Like Me Again... She Laughs Like You - Part 6

Azriel x Reader

Description: Azriel would give anything to hold you one more time.

Warnings: Violence, Torture, Gore

Word Count: 5550

Notes: This took me a bit longer to write than I anticipated but I wanted to make sure not to forget any details. Hope you enjoy!

Part 5

The sun was already shining high in the sky when you finally stepped out of the dungeon. Feyre had arrived with Cassian and Amren a few minutes earlier, ordering her mate, you and Azriel to go and get some rest while they took over for a few hours. Rhysand could only use his daemati powers for so long and the strain was starting to become visible on his face, so she likely could feel his fatigue through their mating bond. His efforts were starting to be in vain anyway, you needed to wear Norris down a lot more physically before his mental walls would start giving in.

You didn't want to leave at first, completely unwilling to take your eyes off Norris for even a second, but both you and Azriel had been forced to go take a bath and eat something, maybe even get some sleep and only come back later in the day. Logically this made perfect sense, but you'd rather stay with him until he told you everything you wanted to know. You believe them all to be more than capable of handling this but you also know Norris, if anyone could find a way to escape from the Night Court's dungeons it would be him.

Still, you knew it was going to take a lot longer than a few hours to crack Norris so you needed to keep your strength, you wouldn't be any help at all if you exhausted yourself. Apparently the same wards around your memories were also present in Norris' mind, meaning Rhysand was only able to knock him out in the forest but not read through his thoughts, the same way he wasn't able to reach your memories before. This meant he was the one in control of said wards, both his and yours. Amren was quick to explain that since they had been done with the help of a witch's tool, he had to have it with him to keep up his wards since it wasn't his own magic that was keeping them in place.

It also explains why he risked becoming your handler even though letting you know him could lead to this exact outcome. He needed to strengthen your wards every once in a while to make sure no memory slipped through them. Unfortunately, even without his checkups the wards were strong enough that simply time wouldn't give your memories back in full, at best only letting you see some fragments. There was also no way of knowing what they could do to your mind when left unattended so your only option was to keep pushing him until he told you everything you needed to know.

The tool he used couldn't be far, he either had it on his person or hid it somewhere close before meeting you in the forest. You've searched through his belongings more than once, as did everyone present in the cell, including Azriel's shadows, but came up empty. He likely had a powerful glamour cast on it, one you had to make him break. Getting your hands on that tool meant you could break both the wards around his mind, which would grant Rhysand access to any and every piece of information he wanted, and the wards keeping your memories hidden inside you. One simple object could set you free.

Azriel winnowed you to the middle of the mountains surrounding Velaris, right behind the House of Wind, making sure no one in the city could see your bodies drenched in blood but unable to winnow you straight home. Having a house protected by wards that didn't allow for any winnowing, even by its inhabitants, was really good in theory, you've never seen a safer place really, but in practice having to fly up every time was more than annoying, especially when you don't have wings of your own.

The air was strangely awkward around the two of you since you hadn't spoken a word to each other after the short argument in the forest. Most of your annoyance had worn off at this point, got redirected at your smug handler chained up in the dungeon, but you still wanted him to be the one to come to you and explain himself. His attitude earlier had seemed completely different from everything you'd experienced until then, you know there's a reason for it but you're too prideful to ask him about it.

The only plausible reason you could think of is that he's been using you to get to an assassin with a higher up position in the guild, but something told you immediately that wasn't the case, it seems like a part of you balked at the thought that he'd betray you like this. Even putting your annoying phantom feelings aside, it didn't make sense considering the High Lord has followed his word on letting you help in interrogating Norris. Your mind was fresh out of ideas, and much too tired to analyze that small argument. He'll tell you what happened eventually, and if he doesn't… Well, then it's a good thing you didn't get your hopes up even more.

“I'll fly you up to the House,” his voice was scratchy from not being used in so long, making it deeper as he almost whispered beside you, not wanting to disturb the quietness in the mountain. Azriel had done most of the cutting and breaking but he hadn't even asked Norris any questions, content in letting you and Rhysand take over the interrogation while he carved out Norris' skin. You can't be sure if it was because of your fight or just the grueling last few hours but he didn't seem to be in the best mood anyway.

You nod up at him, simply walking closer and letting him pick you up into his warm embrace, strong hands careful as they handle your body. You've only flown once - from what you can remember at least, you can't imagine a version of yourself who wouldn't ask her husband to take her flying regularly if he had wings - and, given the circumstances, you didn't really have the chance to stop and truly enjoy the moment. It would be the same now, even worse given the fact that you'd rather not deal with the shadowsinger, but the breeze hitting against your tired body sounded heavenly, and so did the big bathtub and soft mattress waiting for you up in your room. There was also no energy left in your body to even try to argue with him, if there was you would have been using it on your handler.

His body relaxes slightly when you simply slip your arms around his neck, his wings stretching and flapping a couple of times as he got ready to take flight. He looked like he was expecting you to refuse, as if there was any other way to the House besides flying and he wasn't the only Illyrian here.

The actual flight doesn't take long, within a few moments Azriel is gently setting you down back on your feet at the top of the stairs, hands lingering on your body as if moving on their own, a habit he can't quite break himself out of. You meet his eyes, briefly wondering if you should say something, debating if you have enough patience in yourself to extend a small olive branch to the male who is covered in the blood of your enemy.

He beats you to it, looking down before speaking as if he couldn't hold your gaze for top long - yet another way he's acting out of character. “You're free to do what you want. I'll meet you in your room and fly you back to the dungeon when it's time. I won't bother you before that.” The professional, detached tone in his voice makes your annoyance want to rise up but you swallow it down, realizing how tired you really were as soon as you had stepped foot inside the house.

“Alright,” you tell him before turning around and walking straight to your room, never looking back to see his reaction or the way regret flashes in his eyes as he watches your every step away from him.

Azriel stayed true to his word, only coming to check in on you right before it was time to return. You can't even be sure if he stayed in his room the whole time, if he truly spent these few hours resting as he was ordered since there was no sound coming from his room or around the house at all. Curiosity had gotten the best of you a couple of hours ago, when you woke up from your nap feeling strangely alone, like a piece of you was begging to go find him. This feeling was clutching at your heart for long enough that you actually considered going to find Azriel, but held on since you didn't fully know your way around the house and you had no idea where he could be. You didn't really know what to say either.

Luckily it wasn't long until you heard his footsteps getting closer to your room before a soft knock sounded at the door. He always does this, makes sure to let himself be heard before knocking. Sitting up at the edge of the mattress, you call out to him, wondering if he'll tell you anything now or simply fly you back to the cells.

As soon as his form comes into view you can tell he hasn't slept much if anything at all, dark circles prominent under his eyes. He's at least taken a bath, the sullied leathers were now replaced with new ones, the stench of blood not clinging to him anymore. You're wearing some yourself, your old ones as you've been told. Your clothes were ruined and putting them back on would defeat the purpose of the bath you took earlier, but it feels weird to wear a version of what you always see Azriel and his family in. He takes notice of this as well, hazel eyes raking over your form, lingering around your waist long enough for you to start feeling self conscious, standing up and taking a step closer to him almost involuntarily.

“Is anything wrong? I thought you left them for me to wear.” Since he had given you the leathers along with your old belongings you had assumed you were allowed to wear them, but, at this point, these clothes were more his than yours. Maybe he was scared you'd ruin them and he'd lose his memories of you.

“No, that's not it. They're yours,” he assures quickly, eyes widening slightly before a conflicted expression takes over his face. “The buckles are done wrong,” his observation makes you look down at yourself, there were more straps and buckles than necessary for any piece of garment and you'd taken a bit longer to figure it out than you cared to admit, apparently you should have taken even longer.

Your fingers reach for the straps around your waist, tugging at the leather before he continues, “I can help you with them. They can be hard to put on if you're not used to it.” When you look up from the confusing clothes and your eyes move to meet his, you find him watching your hands hesitantly, his own flexing at his sides. You end up agreeing without even thinking it through, something you almost regret when he walks closer to you and suddenly all you can see and smell is Azriel.

He looks into your eyes before reaching out to the buckles around your waist slowly, giving you a chance to push him away, almost expecting you to. You drop your hands at your sides awkwardly, not knowing what to do with them or yourself when he starts working on your leathers. Expert fingers undo the buckle before pulling on the straps, unexpectedly tightening your armor in the process which pulls a startled gasp out of you. His hands move to grab your waist, surprised by your reaction. Wide hazel eyes meet yours at the sound, a heat spreading within them the longer he holds your gaze, hands frozen around your waist.

All your senses are overwhelmed with him so close, staring down at you like that. The only thing you can think of is the kiss you shared a few nights ago, your entire body begging to repeat the action as he looks down at you with the same passionate look he had worn then. He seems to be reminded of the same, perhaps of similar moments from your previous life, even more scandalous ones surely.

Thankfully, some of your common sense finds you before you could do something stupid like pull him down to you and taste him again, the thought making you look away from him and clear your throat, hoping he breaks from the spell and lets you pretend it didn't happen. This prompts him to keep buckling the leathers, with an urgency he didn't have before, and you look down with him, following his movements even though your mind isn't actually registering any of them as you try to calm your breathing and not think of the way his hands feel around your waist. You'll likely need his help fastening everything tomorrow as well.

“These are meant to cross so the leathers are molded to your body and there are no openings,” he tries to explain as he finishes and moves back, but you can tell he's as affected by your little moment as you were.

You nod at him, “There were a lot of straps, I wasn't sure which ones belonged where. Some of them don't even look like they have a purpose,” you finish as you play with the straps around your wrists, the ones you really couldn't figure out.

“Those are for your gloves,” he explains, a somewhat endeared look crossing his face. “I didn't think you'd need them but you can put them on. Though I'm not sure how they will behave with your powers now.”

“Did I not have these powers before?” You hadn't thought of the possibility but if the spell could erase your memories maybe Norris could have found a way to give or take powers. Just the thought of it brings a chill down your spine.

“You did, but you've gotten a lot stronger,” there was a hint of pride in his words, though the somber meaning hung between you. No matter how hard you practiced and how well they could have trained you here, the results wouldn't be as fast or maybe as clean as the ones resulting from the guild's harsh training. The guild had no problem pushing you past your limits, you either adapted and got stronger or you'd die and be replaced. You suppose you never had to use your powers to torture people before either.

“When this all ends we could spar together,” you sound hesitant even to your own ears, “Maybe I'm even stronger than you by now.” You haven't talked about what will happen after all of this, you can't know for sure what you'll want to do when you recover your memories. You also keenly aware you had just been telling yourself you wouldn't make it easy on him, but ended up seconds away from kissing him and inviting him to spar with you as soon as you saw him.

“I'd like that,” he nods, a reddish tint rushing to his ears. He makes it unbearably hard to even remember why you were upset with him in the first place. It takes everything in you not to lean into his genuineness and forget it ever happened. You bite your lip and give him a small nod of your own, “Are you ready then? We should go.”

“I wanted to talk to you before we left,” his voice takes on a serious tone, regret peeking through every word.

“Maybe this is not the right time. They're probably waiting for us,” you offered, not really sure how to go about having this conversation after what had just happened, even if the curiosity was killing you. It was clear you couldn't keep a level head when it came to Azriel.

“No, I can't…” he cuts himself off, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh, a heavy sound coming from deep in his chest as if he’s been pushing it down for a long time. He looks scared somehow, his wings pulling in tighter to his body and his shadows crawling up his shoulders as if comforting, or even encouraging him. You let him find his composure, find the right words to explain the situation. This feels bigger than a silly argument when adrenaline was pumping through both your veins and that gnawing feeling in your chest comes back, getting stronger with every breath, making you think this might be something he's carried on from the time you were still married.

Azriel opens his eyes after a few moments, the emotions swirling in them enough to make you breathless, and reaches his hand out to yours, waiting for you to accept it and then squeezing it tight as if he needs the reminder that you're real.

“I need you to know I wasn't trying to keep any secrets from you or order you around as you said,” he starts lowly, shiny hazel eyes alternating between watching your hands clasped together and staring deep into your eyes, “We've had this conversation many times before. I know you don't remember but I need you to know I never meant to make you think I want to have any sort of power over you.” He brings your hand up to his chest then, spreading your palm right over his beating heart as he continues, eyes never straying from yours, “I know you can handle yourself, and I know you want to be there when Norris tells you everything. I wasn't trying to keep you away from the dungeon because I didn't think you could handle it.”

“Then why?” Your voice is but a whisper, not wanting to disturb the vulnerable moment.

“I never let you see me down there before, know the monster I have to become. You tried, many times, but I never allowed it. I've always been too afraid of what your reaction would be,” he presses his hand down on yours a little harder as his heart beat picks up, “It would kill me if you were ever scared of me, if you couldn't love me anymore after learning who I am. I was so scared of losing you. Scared that you would ever look at me with fear in your eyes instead of love.”

You let your gaze fall to the way he presses his and your hand to his chest, letting his heartbeat lead yours. It takes a moment for you to process his admission. From what he told you before you thought you had been open with each other throughout your marriage, but it seems there were parts of him he kept hidden even from you, especially from you.

Moments like these always leave you in a weird position. You can't speak for the old version of you, as much as you want to believe that you wouldn't leave him, would never feel scared of him, when your love for him transcended your memories as if it was written down into your bones, the truth is you don't remember her at all. Maybe she would have been scared, maybe his worries hadn't been completely unwarranted then. The thought leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

You turn your hand around, your palm no longer pressed against his chest in favor of holding onto his hand, your other hand joining in as you massage the rough skin and let them fall between you two, needing something familiar to ground yourself while you think of what to say. You twist his wedding ring around his finger once, closing your eyes at the tremble that runs through him at the motion, the way even his wings droop to the floor. The fact that he lets you touch him like this makes things so much harder sometimes.

“I've seen a lot of monsters. You're not one of them, Azriel. Far from it,” you start carefully, “and… I'm not sure how I was like before, if seeing you down there would have really been too much for me to handle but if I truly loved you like I think I did, then I know it wouldn't have mattered. There's nothing about you I see as unlovable.”

“Loved,” a broken mumble between you, not a question. This makes you look up at him. You want to deny it, tell him you still love him, but you can't make sense of the feelings inside you, can't say for sure what will happen to them when you regain your memories. Most of all, you don't want to hurt him, give him hope when he already lost so much, when you already hurt him so much.

You drop his hand, taking a small step back. “I'm not the same person you used to know, and recovering my memories might not bring her back either. Most of what's left is just my body.”

“It doesn't matter,” he says so matter-of-factly it almost makes you want to believe him.

“Azriel-”

“No,” he brings both of his hands to hold onto your face gently, giving you no option but to look into his eyes, “I love you. That didn't change when you died or over the century that followed, when I didn't think I would ever see you again. It didn't change when I saw you in the townhouse or even when you stabbed me. And it won't change whether you get your memories back or not, if you choose to stay or not.”

“I don't love you,” the words stumble out desperately, tears gathering in your eyes, “I don't even remember you, Azriel.”

“That doesn't change it either,” he smiles, thumb caressing your cheek softly. You know he means it then, know there's no way to change his mind even if for his own good. You can only pray to the Mother that your memories don't give you any unpleasant surprises. You're trying so hard to keep his heart safe, why must he keep offering to rip it out of his chest for you?

His expression changes abruptly as you're lost in thought and soon after you feel a presence in your mind before Rhysand's voice comes through. I hope I'm not interrupting anything. Azriel's hands drop from your face then, a scowl overcoming his features. You can only imagine the words he's throwing at his brother in his mind, but Rhysand's voice returns, noticeably more amused, Our break is over. It's time to meet them back at the dungeon. I take it you'll fly our captive back? The answering growl that comes from the shadowsinger actually makes you hide a chuckle behind your hand. His gaze softening once again when he notices the gesture.

Despite the timing and the way he insisted on addressing you as “captive” to rile Azriel up, you could actually thank Rhysand for breaking you away from the moment. He's right, you've rested more than enough and it's now time to go back and finish what you started. You only have the luxury of dealing with your marriage after Norris is gone and you could actually remember your husband.

The flight to the dungeon is a lot easier this time as your prior annoyance was replaced with strangely welcomed awkwardness and a tinge of bashfulness. As much as you tried to deny it, you can't pretend Azriel's admission hadn't made your heart want to leap out of your chest. You don't think anyone could have remained impartial to such a confession, especially coming from a male like Azriel, but as soon as you step into the dungeon, you feel yourself morph back into the cold assassin. You could even feel Azriel's mask fall over his face as well, ready to resume what you'd started before.

This same routine is repeated for a few days, slowly but surely wearing the formidable assassin down. It wouldn't be long until Rhysand or Feyre could read through his mind completely even if he didn't willingly tell you anything. This sentiment was felt among all of you, it's like you could all taste how close he was to breaking.

You came back from one of your mandatory breaks to see Cassian leaning by the cell door, arms crossed over his chest, glaring at your prisoner as Amren stood in the middle of the cell covered in blood, a wicked grin on her face as Norris looked the most unsettled you'd ever seen him. She was told to hold back in the first days but since Norris insists on resisting, Rhysand had allowed her to toy with him. You truly hope you never cross her, just the thought of the things she could do makes every hair on your body stand.

Everyone stays in the room this time, knowing it's only a matter of time. Azriel takes over once more, every slash of his knife meant to give Norris unimaginable pain, completely focused on making the short remaining of his life as miserable as he can.

The difference between the male who had confessed his undying love to you, held your hand as if you were the most precious thing in this world, and the one expertly carving out your former handler's body was almost unbelievable. Azriel's face showed nothing but anger, and even then you knew it wasn't even a quarter of the seething fury burning inside of him. This wasn't your doting husband, this was the Spymaster.

You feel Rhysand's dramatic show of power before you see him walk into the cell, hands in pockets as if he was walking into his kitchen instead of a seedy dungeon reeking of blood and sweat. He passes by you and joins Azriel in tormenting Norris, letting sharp black talons run across the mental walls he's been so desperate to maintain. The smirk on his mate's face, who leans against the table calmly by your side, tells you they might even be teaming up on him.

Fatigue was starting to eat away at everyone the longer you spent inside the windowless cell, but, as Norris smirks lessened and his bared teeth stopped being enough to hide the obvious grunts of pain, his skin paling considerably as his blood pooled at his feet, it was clear that you were on the right track, only needed to keep pushing.

Your handler had started answering more questions too, if only to keep you distracted and away from any blades long enough. It's hard to believe that the male you've been frightened of for a century is the same one chained in front of you. If it weren't for the stubbornness and the pride he's managed to keep somehow, you wouldn't have believed it at all.

“This whole mission was a gamble. We couldn't know for sure if they'd written you off their wards even if they thought you were dead. When you walked in so easily I thought it would be a piece of cake from there. Seems I was wrong.” You had guessed as much. At the time, being sent to an unknown place on such short notice seemed strange and sloppy for how usually crafted the guild's plans were, but knowing what you do now, it makes sense. Not only were you written into the wards as he said, but if it hadn't been for the strange nostalgic feelings inside you, Azriel would have let you escape, you would have even killed him to do so.

“The spell should have sealed your memories and feelings tight,” Norris continues as if sensing your thoughts, “I'm not sure what is trying so hard to claw its way out from behind those walls.” He tilts his head to the side and pauses as if he found the answer and that self-assured smirk reappears on his lips. The sight makes your skin crawl, your powers reacting with you and sending an icy chill into the room. Temperature dropping as his smirk only widens even more and Azriel looks at you with a worried expression before catching himself. “Maybe I just messed up the spell,” he dismisses.

“What do you mean?”

“It is a tricky spell,” he shrugs nonchalantly, knowing that's not what you asked. Azriel moves before you, Truth Teller slashing across his skin for the millionth time, but Norris seems intent on keeping at least this last piece of information to himself. There's more to this, you know there is, but the interrogation moves on to matters of the guild. Rhysand is still worried that they will come for you now that you've deserted, and that they will bring harm to his beloved court.

Within the next few hours, Norris' healing stops being able to keep up with his injuries, even his voice losing strength. It seems like he was focusing the remaining of his energy on keeping his mental walls safe, but it's not long until you see Rhysand's smirk grow, a satisfied wicked thing on his face.

You watch as Norris' head goes limp, unfocused eyes dropping to the ground as the High Lord searches through his mind, probably making it as unpleasant as he possibly can. Your heart starts beating faster in your chest, anxiety building up at the thought that this could have all been for nothing, that Norris might not have the answer after all. You feel a hand on your shoulder but don't even have the mind to look back and check who is trying to comfort you.

When he finally steps back, he simply gives you a nod and a breath of relief escapes you as you stare back into Norris' eyes. You watch Azriel and Rhysand share a look in the corner of your eye, never daring to look away from Norris' defeated face. Within moments everyone starts clearing out of the cell in silence, leaving you and your shadowsinger standing over the prisoner.

It's only when Azriel's hand reaches for yours, tugging on it to get your attention that you look away. His eyes don't give away much and he doesn't say the words, but as he places Truth Teller in the palm of your hand, you know exactly what he means. He nods at you once and drops your hand, taking a step back and giving you space.

You look down at the dagger in your hands, the same one you had held to wound the male who now handed it to you, the one you'll now use to set yourself free. Describing the feeling running through your body is impossible, you always thought you'd die in the guild, as an assassin. Never even dared to think you could be more, never thought it would be possible to get out alive and find a life for yourself. You thought you'd be scared at the prospect but you can only feel excitement and relief.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you walk to Norris and pull on his hair to lift your face to his, so he can see all the hate and anger in your gaze before you stab the knife through his right eye slowly, making sure to get it through his brain, deep enough that no amount of healing or any trick he might have had up his sleeve would be able to save him, and twisting it around. You don't move for a few moments, listening for his heartbeat and paying attention to the blood seeping out of the wound. It's only when you're sure he's dead, that his heart is completely quiet and enough blood has poured out, that you pull the knife out with a squelching sound, flicking it down to get rid of most of the blood and any pieces of flesh stuck to it.

You hesitate for a moment before turning back, meeting Azriel's eyes. As much as you'd told him there was no need for him to worry of your opinion of him changing after witnessing what he did to Norris, of ever being afraid of him, you had hypocritically been scared of letting him see you like this, of seeing the cold blooded killer you had become, so far detached from the wife in his memories.

All your worries are proven baseless however. The only thing you can distinguish in his eyes is relief, at having the answer to getting your memories back and having the person responsible for your pain killed. You can't help the smile growing on your face, not caring for how it must look against the blood covering most of your body, and wrap your arms around Azriel's neck, pulling him down into a hug as a sigh of relief escapes you, tears rising to your eyes and flowing down your cheeks. His arms come around you immediately, tightening his grip on you and burying his face in your neck, tears of his own wetting your skin.

You're finally free.

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#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #azriel angst

[smudgethebadbard]

It seems people really enjoyed the last headcannon post, so I have returned, this time with headcannons for the non-romanceable characters!

I love all of the characters in this game, and have created so many little dumb ideas for them, so here ya go!

We have confirmation that Linus came from a wealthy family, but put this life aside, donating his money to various charities and organizations to help others, and I like to imagine that he still enjoys working with these charities from time to time, whether this be shelter work, environmental care, or supporting other people!

Willy never had children, but took in Elliot as his own, teaching him everything he would need to know regarding the seas, and quickly takes in Farmer as well, after learning about their love for fishing.

Gus is a trans guy! I don't have any evidence for this, but I just adore Gus so much and need this in my life.

Gunther is a long-time DM, and runs a small group with some of the local teens, and maybe some of the adults! I feel like his fascination of antiques and old treasures has assisted his DMing skills, or possibly the other way around!

Kent has learned how to sew, knit, and garden in order to get closer with Jodi and the kids once he returned to Pelican Town. (He's trying to be a better dad, he already is such a good guy :])

Mr. Qi is quite close with both Sandy and Gus, considering them friends!

Pierre was a college dropout, yet still considers himself a "man of study", I'm sorry, I just can't see this man as anything but an arrogant asshole.

The Wizard is incredibly supportive of the queer folks in the town, and Farmer, and will offer help with anything. Gender change? He's got you. Voice manipulation? He's got the stuff. Just be careful if he invites you to share a pipe!

Marlon and the Wizard are the local salty gay couple, Statler and Waldorf style, and lurk in the back during the flower dance, taking the last dance for themselves.

Pam loves thrifting and going on antiquing sprees with Harvey, and she knows how to absolutely steal a deal, girlie would most definitely punch an old woman over an auction item.

This is all I have atm, but if you want more, please let me know!! I love making stupid little theories for the glorbos. :]

#sdv #stardew valley #trans pride #lgbt pride #queer #gay pride #sdv 1.6 #stardew farmer #sdv farmer #stardew harvey #stardew oc #sdv harvey #sdv marlon #rasmodius x marlon #sdv willy #sdv gus #sdv gunther #sdv pam #mr qi sdv #sdv linus #sdv mr qi #sdv elliott #sdv pierre #sdv headcanons #stardew fanart #stardew headcanon #headcanon #dnd #dnd oc

[the-pen-pot]

'What happened to your back?' Arthur's voice sounded tense, stiff and uncertain. The brush of warm fingers against the three, pale lines across his shoulder-blade made Merlin jolt in alarm. He whirled around, the tunic still clutched in his hands as he blinked stupidly, his words caught somewhere in his throat. Not that it mattered. Arthur was too busy staring at the starburst scar the size of a grown man's hand that lay right in the centre of his front, over his heart. A frown of confusion melted beneath a mask of horror, and Merlin swallowed hard as all the colour fled Arthur's face. 'What happened to your chest?!'

Arthur finds out about Merlin's scars. Read above on AO3, or keep reading below 👇

 

It was his own stupid fault, Merlin thought grimly. His usual clumsiness and an unguarded moment was all it took. 

He had been helping set up for Uther's latest stupid feast, and he'd slopped red wine all down the front of a blue tunic. In theory, he could have dismissed the stain with a spell, but the smell would have haunted him all evening. Arthur might know that all the time he was apparently in the tavern he was dealing with some magical crisis or other, but the same could not be said for the rest of the court. His reputation was bad enough as it was without adding fuel to that particular fire.

He'd ducked into one of the rooms where they stored the fresh laundry, pulling free a tunic he'd not yet collected before peeling himself free of the clinging fabric. The rustle of cloth meant he didn't hear the creak of the door, and the voice that rang out behind him made him jolt in surprise.

'What happened to your back?'

Arthur's voice sounded tense, stiff and uncertain. The brush of warm fingers against the three, pale lines across his shoulder-blade made Merlin jolt in alarm. He whirled around, the tunic still clutched in his hands as he blinked stupidly, his words caught somewhere in his throat. 

Not that it mattered. Arthur was too busy staring at the starburst scar the size of a grown man's hand that lay right in the centre of his front, over his heart. A frown of confusion melted beneath a mask of horror, and Merlin swallowed hard as all the colour fled Arthur's face.

'What happened to your chest?!'

'Er...' Merlin winced, because although he had told Arthur about his magic – about everything he had done in his name, the good and the bad – he had rather glossed over some of the details. He hadn't done any of it for Arthur's gratitude, after all. He didn't need his thanks or his sympathy, but he couldn't deny that some of his choices had left their marks on his body for the world to see.

'Why are you in here?' he managed, hoping to derail the conversation as he hastily tugged on the fresh garment, shoving his arms through the sleeves as he hid the scars from sight. 'Did you need something?'

'I need you to tell me what happened.' Arthur's blue eyes snapped with an aimless, volatile sort of anger. His arms were folded across his chest, making his tunic strain at the shoulders, and the scowl on his brow suggested he wouldn't be easily swayed from his questioning. 'Merlin, who hurt you?'

'It was ages ago. It doesn't matter.'

He went to duck around Arthur, mumbling something about the feast preparations. Yet before he got more than a few paces, strong fingers snagged his wrist. It wasn't a tight grip, Merlin could have broken free with ease, but he still came to heel like a dog obeying its master.

'No, I'm not letting you leave,' he murmured, the rumble of his words sending a bolt of heat arcing down Merlin's spine. It snatched the air from his lungs, leaving him breathless and tense as Arthur turned him back around, shifting his grip to Merlin's shoulders as he stared into his eyes. 'Not until you tell me the truth. Who. Hurt. You?'

The anger in that expression wasn't aimed at him; Merlin knew that well enough. There was nothing Arthur hated more than feeling helpless. He was protective of his knights where Uther was dismissive of their loyalty and their sacrifice, but the gleam in his eye went beyond that. Dread had stolen the warmth from his face, and he was watching Merlin with the kind of intensity that some would find unnerving.

'Sigan and his stupid gargoyles' – He jerked his thumb over his shoulder, indicating the scars on his back before tapping one finger over his heart – 'Nimueh and a fireball.' They were such simple words for the horror of stony claws raking his back and the flash and burn of the incendiary spell that had hit him square in the chest, but in the end, they summed it up pretty neatly. 'It's fine, Arthur. They healed.'

He frowned, not understanding the expression on Arthur's face. The knights took injuries for him all the time, and while he praised their courage, he never looked like that – as if someone had reached into his guts and wrenched them out of him, leaving him hollow.

'That's not the point.' Arthur's grasp moved from his shoulders, drifting down his arms to his hands. It was a soothing gesture, one Merlin wasn't even sure was consciously done. Yet even he could feel how Arthur's touch mapped the calluses on his palms and the small scars that were an apprentice healer's mark: tiny burns and the occasional slim white line where the herb-knife had slipped and sliced skin instead. Those didn't cause him any distress, and Merlin realised it was because they were expected: wounds received in the execution of his duties.

Duties which, even knowing about his magic, Arthur clearly didn't realise involved protecting him with as much determination as any one of his knights.

'You've got scars,' Merlin pointed out, thinking of the starburst from the Questing Beast's bite, among others.

'I'm a knight. A prince.' He didn't add "a target"; he didn't have to. They were both thinking it. 'I've been trained to fight since I could walk. You... haven't.'

Merlin snorted. That was an understatement. Still, he could practically see the spin of considerations in Arthur's head, and some magical sense forewarned him that if he didn't speak quickly, he'd find himself on the duelling field being beaten half-to-death in the name of "practice".

'Wielding a sword wouldn't have saved me from either of these, and it's not like I can train in battle-spells, is it?' He shrugged one shoulder, unwilling to disturb Arthur's hand from where it still gripped his, tracing idle, tormenting little patterns against his skin. He didn't think Arthur realised what he was doing: how each caress made Merlin's breath come from deeper in his chest. It made his heart feel like it pumped hot honey, rather than blood, around his veins. 'It's not exactly discreet.'

Arthur pulled as face, but he didn't argue. It had been slow, steady work, getting him to see just how much damage the ban on magic had caused. Arthur would not care for his own sake: he was not interested in doing anything the easy way, but he was beginning to see how his people could suffer from its lack. Now, he looked at Merlin with fresh realisation. 'You can't learn how to defend yourself. Not without risking exposing your magic to all of Camelot.'

It was a flat statement of fact, one that he could not deny. It wasn't just that he could not practice; even studying the theory was a risky endeavour. As long as Uther still sat upon the throne, then Merlin had to work from the shadows and hope that he and Arthur both survived to see better days.

'Armour.' Arthur said it softly. 'I cannot change the laws of Camelot, but there's is nothing to say a servant cannot wear armour. You could enchant it, couldn't you? Extra spells to protect you from magic. You've done it to mine.' One golden eyebrow lifted in challenge, as if daring Merlin to deny it. 'No one will question it. They know you come on almost every patrol with us, and more than one person has remarked upon the fact that you do not wear anything but the tunic on your back. Truthfully, I should have done something about that long before now.'

Merlin pursed his lips. The rumours in court were already rife, and armour would just be another sign of his favour. Already, people noticed how Arthur let Merlin get away with disobedience that bordered on treason, sometimes, and they had taken note.

It was tempting to argue: to say he didn't need it. Armour wouldn't protect him from magical attacks, but he could see the desperation in Arthur's gaze. Those eyes had dipped to the laces of Merlin's tunic, as if envisioning the scar beneath. There was a haunted slant to his expression, as if he were imagining how that day could have ended.

The hand around Merlin's tightened, firm and sure, and when Arthur lifted his eyes once more, he looked resolute. 'I won't see you hurt again,' he said, speaking like a king laying down the law. 'Not if I can help it. One day, it will be different.' He swallowed. 'One day, you will be able to practice your magic without having to hide, but for now, let me help keep you safe. Please?'

Merlin blinked, his heart heaving in a dizzying whirl. Arthur had never spoken of this before. He almost couldn't believe his ears, and he shifted where he stood, one hand reaching out as if he could pin Arthur's words – this very moment – motionless in place.

'Do you mean it?' he rasped, trying to fight the urge to lean forward but unable to stop himself. 'You'll return magic to Camelot?'

'Yes.' Arthur tilted his head to the side, a faint smile curving his lips at whatever he saw in Merlin's face. 'I swear it.'

Beyond the door, the sounds of hurrying servants broke through the heavy air between them. It was enough to send a ripple of awareness through the tiny room – to make Merlin realise how close they stood to each other. All around them the balance of their friendship seemed to wobble, breathless, but it was Merlin, not Arthur, who stepped back in retreat.

'I – I don't know what to say.' A grin spread over his face, bright and unstoppable. 'Thank you!'

And if he hadn't already loved Arthur for more months than he cared to count – hidden and unacknowledged – he would have fallen there and then to see Arthur's bright, boyish grin light up the room.

'You're welcome, Merlin.'

– – –

Buckles chimed as Arthur slid them into place, sheathing Merlin in the armour he had commissioned. It was not the glittering mail and stalwart plate of his knights, but soft leather with scale pressed between: light and flexible, but strong enough to shield Merlin from the worst the world had to offer.

He wet his lips, looking up at him under his lashes as his pulse thrummed helplessly. The promise he had made still echoed in his mind. No doubt accompanied it; he would not go back on his word. Not after he'd seen the vicious light of hope lend its glow to Merlin's features.

Besides, magic was not the only thing he planned to change when he took the throne. He could not admit how he felt for Merlin now, not while his father still lived and all the expectations of the court were against them. He would not make Merlin suffer that.

Instead, he did what he could to protect the man who had stolen his heart. He would keep him safe in whatever way he could, and one day, he would be free to claim the love that Merlin promised him with every glance.

They would have their golden age, together. Arthur would make sure of it.

#Merlin #Merthur #My Fanfiction

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I totally love ur interpretation of alphas smelling kinda nasty it's not my thing but it's very cool and fun!!! (Pls share where you disagree with me I love hearing other opinions)

For some reason to me, omega! Price is fresh baked bread. Like it just seems correct to me idk why

Beta! Price is herbal. Maybe w some very slight powdery notes. But mostly like tea and old books. The smell is on the warmer side even tho I tend to see beta scents as more... cold? If that makes any sense

Alpha! Price is either a sharp, pine scent. Like a Christmas tree farm. OOOOOR this really yummy perfume I have called Jazz Club by replica. It's such a good scent and I feel like either price or ghost fit the vibe of it.

-🔪

Interesting!!! Also Pine Price? Yes yes??!??! 🫵🫵🫵

(I will be highjacking this to post my own hcs!)

(UPDATED) The 141's Scents in an A/B/O AU: Depending on Presentation

Follow-up on these two posts:

As a reminder, these two posts follow a theory of mine that:

Alphas smell so strong and overpowering, bordering on just smelling Bad™️;

Betas smell natural and comforting (average, no major complaints);

Omegas smell sickly sweet and so overwhelming it could make someone ill.

Johnny

Omega Johnny smells like the syrup that surrounds and preserves canned fruit. Canned peaches especially.

Beta Johnny smells like the sea. Salt water, seaweed… that kind of thing.

Alpha Johnny smells like shoe shiner, or another product like that. Maybe wet paint or varnish?

Kyle

Omega Kyle smells like something warm and cosy and gooey that melts in your mouth. My brain is saying honey or honeycomb, caramel or toffee maybe?.

Beta Kyle smells like freshly cut grass, and ivy. Especially when the freshly cut grass is damp too.

Alpha Kyle smells like nearly vinegary and acidic. The best way I can say it is... strong wine that has just started fermenting.

Simon

Omega Simon smells like talc/baby powder. Makes you wanna bury your face in him and sniff like you do to a newborn baby.

Beta Simon smells like old books with yellowed pages. Not necessarily musty or bad.

Alpha Simon smells of black pepper.

ALTERNATIVELY:

Omega Ghost wears scent blockers. You'd never know what he smells like because he doesn't let you. (It's vanilla sugar)

Beta Ghost smells of freshly carved wood furniture, unfinished and unvarnished, still full of splinters and rough edges.

Alpha Ghost smells strongly of burning. Like a campfire, a forest fire, maybe gasoline or sulphur.

John

Omega John smells like lemon merengue. Sickly sweet and tangy at once, with a softness that melts in your mouth.

Beta John smells like a forest, maybe a rain forest, but I could also see him smell of pine and very obviously so. But the kind of pine that people sometimes mistake for mint?

Alpha John smells like rusted iron and dirt... Which a lot of people confuse with fresh blood. Especially when he's angry and his scent mutates.

#asks #🔪 anon #141 a/b/o #a/b/o headcanons #cod headcanons #simon riley headcanons #kyle garrick headcanons #johnny mactavish headcanons #john price headcanons #john price #johnny soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley

[television-overload]

of our own making

(an X-Files fanfic)

Oh hey, look, it's that massive story I've been working on since January! I'm so thankful to everyone who has shown interest in the concept of this fic and the little snippets I've posted. You've been more help than you know. Without that support, I don't think this would have ever gotten finished.

A special thanks to @numinousmysteries who kindly beta read for me and did a fantastic job. I wanted to make sure I got this right, and she was a great help!

And now I can't wait to share this with you all! New chapters posted daily!

[Read on AO3]

Chapter 1 /33 - ink and paper

How long has he been thinking about this, she wonders. What exactly is he thinking? Her mind races, trying to reconcile this Mulder whose deepest desires are spilled out here in ink on worn and crinkled brochures with the one she’s spent nearly every day with these past several months.

She'd never have guessed...

Find out if adoption is right for you! Visit us at 8080 Meadowlark Ln. Annapolis, MD “A Home for Every Child!”

Scully stares down at the brochure on the desk. One of many, which are half buried underneath a pile of paperwork from their current case. Certain words and phrases are circled in pen, underlined, annotated in the margins in the familiar scrawl she knows almost better than her own.

stability – less travel? change in division? discuss with Scully

loving home – ask Frohike for real estate agent #

The word “family” is circled three times.

She swallows with some difficulty, finding—to her dismay—that her hands are shaking. Mulder will be arriving any second, and here she is, frozen like a statue.

How long has he been thinking about this, she wonders. What exactly is he thinking? Her mind races, trying to reconcile this Mulder whose deepest desires are spilled out here in ink on worn and crinkled brochures with the one she’s spent nearly every day with these past several months.

She’d never have guessed…

“Morning, partner,” his voice calls out, and she jolts in surprise. She hears the door snick shut behind him, but she can’t bring herself to turn around. With deft fingers, she pushes the brochure back under the stack of papers where she found it, only the colorful corner of the page visible.

“Morning, Mulder,” she tries, clearing her throat. It comes out strained, but she hopes he doesn’t notice. She hides her trembling hands in her lap under the desk.

He looks down at her, half amused, half concerned. “You okay? You're not getting that stomach bug that's been going around, are you?”

“I'm fine,” she answers defensively, warning him to back off. She grabs a file off the desk in front of her with a little more force than necessary, plopping it open.

‘Okayyy,’ he mouths exaggeratedly, eyebrows raised. He sits down at his desk and leafs through some papers sitting on top, arranging them into neater stacks. When he uncovers the brochures, his eyes widen and he clears his throat, hurriedly covering them with other papers and trying to act natural.

Scully thinks about letting it go and pretending she doesn’t know what he’s hiding, but she knows she won’t be able to sleep until she finds out what’s been going on in that ridiculous head of his. 

She idly flips to the next page of the file in her hand, displaying a confidence she doesn’t feel in the firm set of her shoulders

“Doing some light reading, Mulder?” she asks, attempting to look disinterested.

His head shoots up, a look of alarm on his face. For a second he thinks she might be talking about something else, that she couldn’t possibly know, but one look at her throws that theory right out the window. He glances back and forth between her and the papers on the desk a few times before dropping his shoulders in defeat.

“I’m sorry, Scully, you weren’t supposed to see those,” he says, shuffling all the brochures into a pile while carefully avoiding eye contact. “I was working here late last night. I must have forgotten to put them away.” As he speaks, he opens the top drawer of his desk and shoves them inside, then takes a seat at his desk. His nose is buried in a file before she can even respond.

She watches him now. He is a curiosity, determinedly feigning concentration on a case she knows he finds disinteresting and a waste of time.

Typical.

“You're really not going to say anything?” she asks, arms crossed in front of her.

That rankles him. “What do you want me to say?” he asks, indignation boiling below the surface.

She looks at him incredulously, the file in front of her all but forgotten.

“You're thinking of adoption? When were you planning to share this with me?”

He sighs and shakes his head, pleading silently with her. “It's too soon, Scully. I didn't think you'd want to hear it yet.”

“But you're looking into it because…”

“It's just been on my mind, that's all.”

She stares at him, brows furrowed.

“Since when?”

Since when… Images flash of a life he didn’t recognize. His sister, alive and grown up. A quiet suburban neighborhood. Cancer Man living just down the street. A wife and kids, but not the right ones. It was wrong, all of it was wrong.

“A hallucinatory trip into an alternate universe tends to make you think,” he answers simply.

He’s looking at her now, deadly serious despite the joking tone. She doesn’t respond. Can’t respond.

“I'm sorry, I didn't want to bring all this up,” he continues. “I know it's a sore spot for you.”

It takes her a moment to conjure words from her mouth, her lips moving but no sound coming out. “I just wasn't expecting…”

“For all I know, this isn't even something you'd want.”

What does she say to that? Is she interested? 

“I– I'm not sure. I've never really considered it before.”

He waits, his eyes assessing her for some hidden meaning, some insight into her state of mind. He gets nothing. She’s totally blank.

“Well… what do you want?” He thought the question was innocuous enough, safer territory than straight up asking her if she wants to adopt, but apparently not.

She shuts her folder, abruptly standing and slinging her purse over her shoulder. “I'm going back to the crime scene,” she declares, changing the subject. “I want to see if there's anything we missed.”

“Scully…” he tries.

“Not now, Mulder.” Without even taking the time to put her coat on, she flees, leaving the door partially open in her rush to get away. Cursing under his breath, Mulder grabs his coat from its hook and hurries after her.

The elevator doors are almost all the way closed by the time he catches up, but in this case, he figures it’s worth the potential loss of a limb. He throws his hand between the closing gap in the metal doors, and it bounces back open to allow him entrance, to the extreme displeasure of one Dana Scully. He wisely stays silent in the elevator, stealing glances at her every few seconds out of the corner of his eye as they ascend. He can feel the frigid air coming off her in waves. It’s been a while since he’s seen her this annoyed with him, this eager to get away.

He won’t let her. Not this time. He’s learned from his mistakes.

In the parking garage, she's walking briskly, heels clicking on the concrete, and he has to pick up the pace to keep up with surprisingly agile little legs.

He didn’t want this confrontation. There was a reason he was keeping his research a secret. This is exactly what he was hoping to avoid, at least until the time was right to carefully drop some hints here and there. But now? There’s no carefully about it. No option to wait and let this blow over. There’s only one way out of this at this point, and unfortunately, that way is through.

He picks up the pace.

“You're the one who brought this up, Scully, I was perfectly happy throwing those brochures in my drawer and not saying a word.” 

His voice echoes in the concrete parking structure, sounding harsh even to his own ears. As frustrated as he is with her, that isn’t his intent. He only wants to know what he can do to help her, how he can help her fulfill her dreams. He lets out a breath, and with it, releases his selfish frustration. She’s still walking away at a breakneck pace, and he doesn’t know how he can get her to stop and face this. 

“If you want to talk about it, let's talk about it,” he says, pleading. “I can't help you if I don't know what you want. You want me to shut up, never mention the subject again?” he shouts, throwing his hands in the air, “Fine, just tell me. What do you want, Scully?”

“I just want to be a mom, okay?” she yells, whirling around to face him. Her words instantly silence him, and he watches stone-faced as tears spring in her eyes. “I see all these other moms out there and think… I could do that too. Why can’t I do that too?”

Well, mission accomplished. The truth is finally out there. Part of him feels bad for pushing her, but the other part knows that it was doing her no good to keep her feelings bottled up inside to deal with by herself. He reaches out a hand, intending to comfort her, his eyes softening in sympathy. 

“You could. Scully, you’d be the best mom.”

She flinches away, stepping out of his reach. “You don’t know that, Mulder. I can’t even—even my body is even telling me no. Over and over.” She resumes her brisk walk to her car, and he thinks he sees her brush angrily at her face, no doubt wiping away the evidence of the stubborn tears that have managed to escape.

He rushes to get in front of her, walking backwards so he can keep her in his sight. 

“When has that ever stopped you?” he asks. “You had cancer, and you kept fighting. You’re alive today because you refused to give up when your body quit on you. What about that?” He stops abruptly, forcing her to come to a halt before she crashes into him.

There’s no way out of this, is there? Her shoulders slump in defeat.

“You saved me, Mulder,” she admits quietly, shaking her head. “You’re the one who didn’t give up. Not me. It was only because you were with me that I survived.”

This time, when she goes to walk away, he stops her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The simple touch causes her to freeze, hardly breathing, and when he steps closer, she stays. His hands slide down her shoulders, holding her securely in place to ensure that his next words come through loud and clear.

“I’m gonna be with you here on this too, I promise.” His thumbs brush back and forth on the fabric of her sleeves, for his comfort or hers, she’s not sure. “You can still be a mother, Scully. I’ll help you.”

She shakes her head, her heart feeling like it has been ripped to shreds. “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” He gives her a little shake for emphasis. She still won’t look at him. “You’ve kept me alive all these years, how much harder could a baby be?”

That gets a breathy chuckle from her, and her head falls to her chest. Groaning with the agony of this burden on her heart, she stops fighting it and leans into him. Without hesitation, he wraps an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into his embrace.

Her hand comes up to find purchase on his suit jacket, relishing in the comfort only he can provide. She’s past caring if anyone sees them like this here. Let them talk. They already do, anyway.

“Well, at least when you wake me up in the middle of the night, you’re not crying,” she speaks into his chest.

She feels him shrug, and can almost see the goofy smile she knows she put on his lips.

“Usually.”

She looks up at him with her chin on his sternum before taking a deep breath and pulling away.

“It's raining,” he says softly, glancing down at her and brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “We can go back to the crime scene later.” She nods, unsure what else to say. She allows herself to be led, his ever-present hand brushing against her back as they start toward the basement.

“Adoption,” Scully mutters to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t know, Mulder. This—this is different than IVF. With that, all I was asking for was your…” her eyes dart around, looking anywhere but at him, “genetic material. This is something entirely different.”

He’s pleased she’s at least considering it, but she doesn’t get it at all, if that’s what she thinks.

“How? ‘Cause from where I’m standing, the process of getting a baby is a little different, but in the long run, the result is the same.”

She pauses, looking at him in confusion. “What– what are you saying?”

He runs a hand awkwardly through his hair, suddenly taking a unique interest in his shoes and the floor of the parking structure.

“Yeah, we probably should have talked about this before…”

“Talked about what?”

He sighs and guides her into a stairwell. It’s stuffy and poorly-lit with a flickering lightbulb, but here, there’s less of a chance they’ll be overheard.

“Look, Scully, I don’t know what you had in mind for my involvement beyond contributing to half the baby’s DNA when you first asked me to help you get pregnant,” he starts, fighting hard to meet her eyes instead of shying away. “But, I– I had hoped it would be a little more than ‘Say hi to Uncle Mulder,’ every couple of months.”

She blinks back at him, speechless.

“I’m sorry if that’s overstepping, I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable with all this, I just—” He takes in a breath. “I guess I got to thinking of what it might be like to have a family again.” His bout of honesty is met with a blank stare, and his nervous smile drops. “I completely misread the situation, didn’t I?” he asks, self-loathing waiting on standby. “Got ahead of myself…”

She stops him by catching his coat sleeve. “No—uh. No, you didn’t.” She collects herself, willing herself to offer him some reassurance. Her fingers release the fabric of his coat, shifting her grasp instead to his hand. “I didn’t realize you felt that way.”

He glances down at where she holds tightly to him, and his lips curl into some semblance of a smile.

“I guess they might have had a point with all those communication seminars we’ve skipped, huh?”

She chuckles softly.

“I don’t think this is exactly what they had in mind…”

With a gentle tug, Mulder leads her down the stairs, committed to holding her hand as long as she’ll let him. The air is stagnant and silent, only the rhythmic echo of their shoes clicking on the concrete steps as they make their way to the bottom floor.

She’s thinking. What she knows now, it changes everything. 

She had asked him to leave. Hid her grief from him as much as possible after her initial lapse into weakness when she came home with the news. She had almost kissed him, then, unsure of what else she had to live for. She knew she was hurting him by folding inward on herself in the weeks that followed, but that didn’t stop her from doing it. She was in a dark place, hardly able to see what was right in front of her. What she couldn’t see was that his hurt wasn’t just for her, born of some misguided sense of guilt or pity. It was his own, too.

“Mulder, all those months, after it failed—” There’s something like fear in her voice as she utters these words, or maybe regret.

“I was just worried about you.”

She squeezes his hand, feeling tears well in her eyes once more. “No, you were grieving like I was, and I didn’t notice. I pushed you away…”

“Dana…” He turns, a couple steps ahead of her, so for once it’s him who has to look up to meet her eyes. Her lip wobbles as she looks down at him, and he brushes his thumb tenderly over her knuckles. “You had to deal with it on your own, I understood that. I don’t blame you for anything.”

Those eyes. So open and honest and sad. She wonders how anyone could hurt him, could bear to break this man’s heart. How could she? 

Choking back a sob, she falls into him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding tight. His arms encircle her back, supporting her weight, and she feels herself being lifted as he goes up a step, closing the distance between them.

His hand climbs up to the back of her head, stroking her hair soothingly.

“I just wanted to be there for you,” he mumbles into her neck.

“You were, Mulder,” she gasps between bouts of tears, finding comfort in the feel of his soft hair between her fingers. “You’ve always been there.”

He pulls back, lifting his hands to cup her face and wiping away the tears he finds there with the pads of his thumbs. 

“You don’t have to give an answer now,” he says, reassuring, “This is… a big commitment, I know, and I don’t want you to say yes just because I suggested it. I just wanted you to know it’s an option, and if you want to have a baby, I’m in. However you want to go about it, I’ll be as involved as you want. Just– let me know, anytime. Okay?”

He’s looking at her now, head ducked so those sad, puppy-dog eyes can get his message across.

She nods, holding tight to the wrists that so tenderly cup her face.

“Okay.”

~~~

Lovely tag list ♡: [if you would like to be added or removed, let me know!]

@today-in-fic @ao3feed-msr @agent-troi @angegova @baronessblixen @bby-got-books @calimanc @captainsolocide @cutemothman @danasculls @deathsbestgirl @edierone @enigmaticxbee @figureofdismay @frogsmulder @hippocampouts @invidiosa @monaiargancoconutsoy @mulderscully @oofubad @p34chi @primrose19 @randomfoggytiger @skelavender @skylarksong @slippinmickeys @stephy-gold @teenie-xf @the-redhead-in-a-dress @vincentsleftear @whovianderson

#msr #txf #x files #xf fanfic #mulder and scully #my fanfiction #fox mulder #dana scully #of our own making #ooom #msr adoption fic #adoption

[peachyjinx]

On The Edge- Chapter 3: The Hunger

Word count: 3.8k

Summary: Loki, as usual, is a big flirt and driving you crazy. You finally find out why you can't orgasm (this chapter is all plot).

Warnings: This fic kind of goes into the non-consensual realm, Loki really is a jerk. But also he's also a sexy mischievous God so I'm into it...

Day 21

Ok things are definitely desperate now. You thought you were desperate weeks ago, but this is a whole other level. You laid sweaty in your sheets, hopelessness creeping in as you stared at the ceiling. The early morning light shined in, giving your room a soft, warm glow. 

This time, you had tried mixing it up while you masturbated, and thought of Eric. That kind, handsome man who looked like he walked straight off of the cover of a bodice ripper in the 90’s. Yet still- no orgasm. 

Eric had been out of town for work, so you’d still been unable to test Wanda's theory with a real dick. And to make matters worse, Loki had been insufferable. He’d increased his flirtations with you, which you can’t help but suspect is because he knows you and Eric are talking. 

Now Loki blatantly hits on you, and you thought you might die when he caressed the small of your back the other day when the team gathered for a meeting. It’s as if he’s constantly teasing you, keeping you right on the edge without relief. 

And it doesn’t help that none of the Avengers are currently on a mission. Everything has been calm, and all of your co-workers are around, making you even more stir crazy. You’ve busied yourself with museum trips and hanging with Wanda and Vision, but it’s not enough. 

But relief was just around the corner. Today Eric gets back, and the two of you have yet to make plans. You decide there’s no way you’re giving in to Loki now, especially with his performance at the fair and the fact that he only seems to want you when you’re interested in someone else. 

You took a deep breath, trying not to let yet another missed orgasm cloud your judgment as you texted Eric. Play it cool, and not like you’re miserably horny and in aching need for a good fuck. 

Hey, do you want to meet up tonight? 

Within a minute, Eric replied.

Yea, that’d be great! Just tell me when and where and I’ll be there ;)

A stupid grin spread across your face- you loved how easy it was with Eric. Here he was, excited to see you, and not teasing or messing with you in any way. Just available. You imagined Loki and Eric as a little devil and angel on your shoulder like those old cartoons and chuckled to yourself. You’ll go with the angel- it’s probably a better decision in the long run. You shook your head as you stood out of bed, mentally shaking off Loki and embracing Eric. 

What was it your grandma always said? “The best way to get over someone is to get under someone!”. You smirked to yourself, knowing how much it would piss off Loki to see you dating Eric. Good.

BEEEEP BEEEEP BEEEEP

Suddenly, the alarms went off, and your eyes darted to the flashing red light in the corner of your room. OF COURSE there’s a mission when you’re literally hours from finally getting thoroughly fucked. 

-----

Day 23

Your mind wandered to Loki casually walking through the staff showers the other week. The way he sauntered with just a towel around his waist as he walked past you. You thought about his chest, strong and powerful, begging to be kissed. His abdominal muscles, perfectly carved and ready for you to run your nails down. That peek of hair below his belly button, trailing towards…

You snapped out of your intrusive and horny thoughts. 

You could feel his eyes on you as you looked anywhere else but his direction. The quarters were too close, Loki sat only a few feet across from you for the last hour. The Quinjet was quiet, but your brain was humming with anxious, dirty thoughts. You tried to focus on the equipment piled against the wall of the aircraft. 

You realized you were fidgeting with your feet and stopped, and stole a glance at Loki. Those piercing eyes were watching you, studying you. You felt yourself squirm as you immediately looked away. What is his problem? Your eyes drifted to Steve and Wanda in the cockpit flying your team home, and tried to figure out how much longer until you were back in the tower. Back to Eric.

The moment the aircraft landed, you jumped out of your seat, texting Eric with an update on your availability. 

“You seemed a bit distracted,” Loki chastised you as he followed you off of the Quinjet. You rolled your eyes, trying to move as quickly as possible to the showers. It was dinner time, and you were hungry for more than a meal. And you had a date- a sure thing.

"Whatever," you muttered as you marched down the hall, opting to go back to your room to clean up instead of the staff locker room. You were not in the mood for Loki’s shit tonight, you had a more serious mission- to have an orgasm. 

You stood at the elevator, ignoring Loki as he walked up behind you. You felt his strong hands wrap around your waist as he pulled you up against him. 

“Hey- what are you?-”, you could barely blurt out in shock as you looked around, wondering if anyone saw what he was doing. 

“If you need help…with your distraction…all you have to do is ask,” he purred in your ear, sending a chill down your body, making you shudder. You could feel his strong chest against your shoulders, his breath on the back of your neck. You had never been more turned on in your life, and your eyes closed for a moment as you felt yourself begin to melt into his body. Memories of his flirting, teasing, and dickish behaviour at the fair flashed through your mind.

You weren’t going to let him do this to you- toy with you because he was bored. The last month had been hell, and he has been making it infinitely more difficult. The flirting. The touching. And now…

All of your annoyance and pent up sexual frustration bubbled up and you exploded. 

“First of all, I was never distracted in the mission! And second of all, I can’t take this anymore, Loki!! Do you want me or not?! You’ve been fucking with my head too much, I can’t take it anymore!! Stop flirting with me, I’ve got a date tonight and I don’t need you messing with my head!!,” you screamed, stomping as you whipped your body away from his. 

Your face felt hot from anger and lust, and you glared at him, pointing a finger. His expression was even more enraging. Loki looked at you as if you were a sad puppy begging for a treat. Pity? He knowingly smirked at you as he always did, stepping to close the gap between you that you had created. 

“Family dinner downstairs, 5 minutes!”, Tony’s voice rang out over the intercoms.  

“God damnit, I have HAD IT with you people!!,” you stormed onto the elevator, holding up a hand to show Loki you didn’t want him to follow.

“What’s another few minutes before you’re off to your date with that buffoon?,” Loki asked, his playful demeanor irritating you. 

“At least Eric’s a nice man. Something you’d know nothing about!”, you spat out while glaring at him as the doors closed.

~~~~~~

Your shower was frenzied with anticipation. Your anger at Loki, not getting off, and desperation for release was all consuming. Every time your mind drifted to Loki holding you up against him, you shook your head and thought of Eric. 

Thankfully, this would all be resolved after dinner. You quickly threw on a cute outfit for drinks with Eric, and headed towards the dining hall the team shared for your “family dinners” as Tony liked to call them. 

A beautiful buffet was spread over tables featuring fresh fruits, roasted vegetables, game bird, and breads. It smelled amazing and reminded you that you were famished. 

“I could get used to these- it’s one reason to keep Loki around,” Nat elbowed you as you all sat down to the large table, with the enticing spread before you. A few weeks ago, Loki had created a similar spread for you all, and your stomach growled excitedly because you knew this one would also be delicious. 

You sat down next to Nat and immediately began filling your plate like your teammates. You saw Loki out of the corner of your eye and you ignored him. But of course he sat next to you. Could he irritate you any more?  

“My, you seem hungry this evening,” Loki noted, and you felt yourself immediately suspicious. What is this game? Why is he always messing with you?

“Well I need a full meal- I’m going out tonight and don’t want it to get too messy,” you snarkily responded, still not looking at him. 

“Ah, yes off to your date with that oaf, ” he drawled as he delicately picked at his food, not eating. 

“Yes, as a matter of fact- I am. And his name is Eric,” you snapped, acknowledging his presence with a glare. You tried not to focus on Loki, but you noticed he wore a black three piece suit with no tie, and the top buttons of his dark green shirt were unbuttoned. You reminded yourself that he’s also an asshole, and you had another hot man who wants you, and you needed to continue to focus on finishing your meal so you can get out as soon as possible.

Loki leaned closer to you, his breath hitting your ear as he lowered his voice. 

“What's the matter Darling, unable to bring yourself to completion on your own?", he asked, before leaning back with a knowing smile. 

“Huh?”, you eloquently replied, trying to assess what he meant. Did he mean…?

Loki leaned forward, his hand snaking to your leg under the table. Your cunt clenched from the electricity of his touch, and you felt your breath hitch. Loki leaned in close again, and you could swear you felt the touch of his lips on your earlobe. 

“Have you been unable to bring yourself the release you so achingly crave? Your lustful fantasies not bringing you the results that you need?”, Loki practically purred in his deep, melodic voice. 

You felt your heart sink in your chest as your cheeks heated up. How did he know? Your mind raced through a million thoughts a minute as you tried to piece together what was going on.

Loki knew you couldn’t orgasm. How did he know? Did Wanda tell him? You looked at him in shock, a devilish smile spread across his face as he popped a grape in his mouth.

“Loki…how did you know that?,” you asked as calmly as you could, trying to keep your voice down so no one could hear. You glanced around the table, and everyone was engrossed in their own conversations, not paying attention to the two of you. 

“Eric will be unable to satisfy you,” Loki spoke Eric’s name with a hint of venom as he sipped from a glass of wine and continued to ignore your question.

You sat still, confused for a moment.

How did he know that?

“What are you talking about??,” you asked with distress, looking into his icy blue eyes. He is so close, you can smell him- warm, leather undertones with a crispness like the pine trees in a forest on a cold day. You begin to feel dizzy, the heady thoughts of wanton sex and anger building in you. His hand drifted a bit, closer to your inner thigh. Your mini skirt gave easy access, and he was dangerously close to where you needed him. A small moan escaped your lips and Loki smirked. 

Loki reached forward on the table and offered you the exotic Asgardian fruit he'd conjured up, holding it up to your mouth to bite. 

“I remember you loved this fruit the last time I conjured one,” Loki showed you, the fruit was pear shaped and peach colored.

“Loki answer me,” you said with a warning in your voice, trying to replace your neediness with sternness as you set down your silverware.

He nodded to the fruit, and then his blue eyes flickered back to you.  You searched his eyes for answers, when a memory flashed through your mind. The fruit. 

Nearly a month ago. When you had all gotten back from that mission in Vancouver. Loki gave everyone a spread of Asgardian dishes when you got back to New York, since none of you could decide on where to order from. A flick of a wrist and you were all feasting like royalty.

Your mind acted quickly, finishing the puzzle. 

The moment on the bench.

 Loki flirting with you. The fair. 

“Are you quite parched, Darling?” 

“If you need help…with your distraction…all you have to do is ask,”

"You seem hungry this evening…"

LOKI DID THIS. 

“Loki…,” your voice shaking as you looked him in the eyes. You could see a glimmer of mischief as he watched you put everything together. 

“...you’d didn’t by chance do anything to me…did you?,” you asked, removing his hand off of your thigh as you turned to face him. 

A wry smile slowly spread across his lips, “And why would I do that?”.

He’s testing you, teasing you again. Like he has been for the last few weeks. Ever since you had that fruit he gave you, you’ve been unable to achieve orgasm. 

You stared at him, a storm of emotions swirling in you- anger, violation, and desire. You could feel your heart racing, and you weren’t sure what you’re going to do next, but you knew you needed to leave the room. You suppressed all of your emotions, slowly getting up from the table. 

“Excuse me,” you forced out before quickly leaving your co-workers, trying not to raise suspicion. 

You moved as quickly to the elevators as you could, but Loki was faster. You felt his iron grip around your wrist as he twirled you towards him from behind. 

You instinctively shoved him away, " You ASSHOLE!!"

Your eyes were seeing red from the rage that’s built, your hands shook as you glared at the handsome prince standing in front of you. 

"Tsk tsk, I wouldn't advise you to touch me like that again, unless it were to lead to more romantic intentions," he casually warned you with a slight smile. 

"WHAT THE FUCK?! You POISONED me?! Why did you do this?! Why did you have to torture me?!,” you screamed, not holding back any more. 

Loki reached out and grabbed your arm again, quickly pulling you closer to his body.  He towered above you, his breath skirting your face. His expression was serious now- he was no longer playing.

"I could have easily taken you. Cornered you in any room of this godforsaken tower. Taken you like you so desperately wanted…,” he paused for a moment, and then a slight tug of a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. 

“...but where's the fun in that? I wanted to tease you, make you come to me, begging for release,” Loki had pulled your body closer to his. 

For a moment you felt the heat in your veins shift to lust again. His strong grip on your arms and the intensity between the two of you at its peak clouding your judgment. You found yourself lost in his eyes, searching for any kind of regret, or an apology. Nothing. You regained your senses and tried to ignore your lust that was overflowing for this man, despite his cruel actions. 

“Oh like hell, I'm not begging you for shit!,” you insisted, determined not to let the intimacy of the moment take you over. Loki chuckled darkly. 

“You can only find release with me. Nothing- and no one else - will sate you,” he replied matter of fact. His blue eyes were bright as he was clearly enjoying the chaos he had unleashed in your life. 

A wave of hopelessness spread across you, at the mercy of Loki. You thought briefly of how much you lusted after this god, cared about him, only for him to choose this path. He was right, he could’ve easily fucked you any time, any place. But he chose to curse you instead. 

A huge smile spread across his perfect lips revealing his perfect teeth and your anger flared up again. 

“I’m going to smack that grin off of your face, why are you smiling like that??!”, you demanded, desperate for all of this to be over. 

“The spell will only work when the subject- you- has lustful intentions for the creator- me. And I love being right”, his hands dropped down to your hips, pulling your body flush with his. 

“Beg me,” he whispered hoarsely, pushing the hard bulge in his pants against your stomach. You felt your hips instinctively buck against his and you heard yourself whine. Again you suppressed your desire, using all the restraint you had. 

You summoned all of the courage you could, defiantly looking back in his eyes, “No.” 

His eyebrow raised but his knowing smile didn’t change. You wriggled from his grasp, turning from him and quickly walking towards the elevators, not looking back as you stepped in and selected the floor for Wanda’s room.

------

“A curse? Wow, that’s a bit much,” Wanda looked at you confused after you gave her a summary of the last hour of events in her bedroom. 

“I’m just so mad, and annoyed. And to be totally honest, I haven’t come in like a month so I’m trying not to get distracted by my pent up horniness. Can you please remove his spell?,” you implored with a wearied tone. 

You couldn’t tell her that under all of that anger, you were ignited with lust. Loki wanted you, yet had kept you edging for nearly a month. On the precipice. He teased you and taunted you. And all you wanted was release, and now you knew you could only get it from him. Exactly what you had wanted since the day the two of you met. You felt so conflicted, saying no to him in the hallway, while the fire inside you raged for him. You felt yourself starting to panic, pacing in Wanda’s bedroom. 

“Breathe,” Wanda gently held your arms so you were facing her, prompting you to slowly breathe with her. You felt yourself calm a bit after a few moments. 

“Of course I will do anything I can,” she gestured for you to sit on a pillow on the floor while she gathered candles and herbs.  

You sat down and slowly breathed, centering yourself. Wanda created a circle with candles, and sat down across from you on a large fluffy pillow. She set down a small cauldron between the two of you, lighting the herbs sitting inside.

“Okay, I need you to remain calm while I try this, try to clear your thoughts as much as you can”

You groaned and complied, trying to just focus on the moment and the earthy smell wafting through the air, pushing out any thoughts of Loki.

Wanda closed her eyes, concentrating hard as a red aura wrapped around you. You closed your eyes and tried to remain calm. Wanda began chanting in a language you didn’t know, and you continued to clear your mind of any thought just like Dr. Strange had taught you in your meditation lessons. 

“I can’t lift it, I’m sorry,” her sad voice prompted you to open your eyes. Her face was covered with disappointment as she slowly shook her head.

“What? Aren’t you a witch?!”, you heard your voice raised more than you had meant to and immediately felt guilty.  

“He’s way more advanced than I am, he’s got centuries ahead of me. Plus, he's a God. I’m sorry, I can’t,” Wanda reached out and grabbed your hand to soothe you as she could see your mood shift again. 

You huffed in frustration for the millionth time in nearly a month. The reality of everything suddenly came crashing down and you lost it. 

“FUCK!!” you screamed, prompting Vision to appear in the room suddenly, phasing through the wall. You pulled your hand from Wanda, grabbing your head in frustration as your eyes focused on the cauldron on the floor. 

“It’s okay Vis, she’s just frustrated,” Wanda assured Vision, gesturing for him to leave the room.

“What am I gonna do?,” you looked at Wanda, you could feel the tears of aggravation building in your eyes. This all felt so overwhelming. And exciting. It was so confusing, you didn’t know what to feel anymore. 

“Well I think you have to fuck Loki,” Wanda remarked with a smirk, coaxing a small smile from you. 

She’s right, and it’s everything you’ve wanted for months. Reality hits you when you realize Loki is into you. Loki wants you. Desperately. The memory of a few moments ago, when he had his straining cock pushed up against you, passed through your mind again and you felt a wave of heat all over, and your cunt clenched with need. 

“Give me your phone,” Wanda put out her hand, nodding thoughtfully at you. You sighed, unlocked your phone and obliged. Wanda opened your messenger app and began to type. 

“Wait- what are you doing??”

“I’m canceling your plans with Eric,” she looked at you and raised her eyebrows like a big sister who knows best. 

“What! No, why?”, you were trying your best not to get mad at Wanda, she didn’t put you in this position. 

“Loki said Eric can’t make you come, and Loki’s the one you want, anyways! You obviously need to get laid, not to mention this massive crush you have on Loki, too. Now go and get fucked already!,” Wanda enunciated her point as she finished her text to Eric.

You sat, bewildered for a moment about the events that had unfolded. You didn’t even bother to open the texts to see what Wanda had sent Eric. You knew it didn’t matter.

“Thanks Wanda, I think I need to be alone for a few minutes before I do anything. This is all a little much,” you felt the roller coaster of emotions slowing down, and you just needed to recoup and make your plan.

“Of course, but I think we both know where you should go when you leave this room,” she chuckled, escorting you to her door. 

You mustered out a small smirk as your nerves began to set in. You slowly left her room, your mind swirling with the way everything had unfolded. Mindlessly, you entered the elevator and looked at the floor number buttons, not sure which to choose. 

You were mad, but unbelievably turned on. He could’ve just fucked you. Instead, he chose to tease you mercilessly, edging you for nearly a month. You were sopping wet now, unable to ignore the wetness pooling in your panties. You knew that the moment you surrendered yourself to him, it would be erotic bliss like you’ve never experienced. 

What do you do?

Should you go directly to his room and finally succumb to your desires?

Or make him suffer for what he’s put you through?

Give in?

Or torture him like he did to you?

-----

Author's Note:

Pick the chapter based on which decision you want to make :)

Chapter 4- Submission

Chapter 5- Tease

On the Edge Chapter List

#loki smut #loki #loki x reader #loki series #dom!loki smut #dom!loki x sub!reader #loki fanfic #loki laufeyson #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction

[echo-stimmingrose]

Soooooo, my mom has been getting calls from our insurance company over and over again, wanting to talk to me about programs they have for me....?

Well they wouldn't tell my mom what they were talking about and she didn't let them talk to me cause I'm a minor and what not.

Well they kept calling and the same thing. But today! Today, we get a letter in the mail addressed to me, again talking about these "programs" they have for me.

It's because they think I'm PREGNANT!!! XD

So we've been laughing at that all day and my uncle and I have come up with some theories as to why I'm apparently a gay virgin Mary. (A virgin Echo if you will)

1) Zeus. It seems like I have insulted him one too many times and that last rainfall we had was actually his golden shower that he uses to impregnate people. So I'm probably gonna start getting chased by cows or turn into one.

2) Loki's fucking with me. This might be hilarious to him, he does seem like the type to fuck with a insurance company. This is most definitely the preferable option, I can deal with a little trickster god. As long as I don't turn into a horse I think I'm safe.

Or

3) Apollo is involved somehow. It makes sense, of course Apollo would fall in love with a lesbian, especially a mortal. Not sure but if I turn into a plant this case is closed.

#im not pregnant btw. idk wtf our insurance company is on or where they got that info. #zeus #loki #apollo #if you have any other theories let me know #hera #greek mythology #norse mythology #its funny #lesbian #hyacinthus #daphne #if its apollo he definitely wiped my memories in attempt to save me from some horrible fate. #if its zeus then im screwed. i really didn't feel like pissing off the queen of the gods

[slowlyfadingaway5]

Okay SO! I'm a fairy tale folklore mythology girlie and this episode of neverafter hits so fucking hard.

BUT when the Sword of Truth was first introduced as gold and gleaming and PIB said that it was used to cut wood, there was a moment after that where it cut to Brennan's face and you know what kind of face he fucking has when the PCs say something off the cuff that has relevance later on or something he never thought of but might work later on. you know the look

And it reminded me of the folk tale/fable of "The Honest Woodcutter" and I fucking know it's an Aesop's fable and the sword is called the Sword of Truth and I feel like I'm grasping at strings here (ha) but in the promo for ep 8 the sword is potentionally a person? So MAYBE just maybe hear me out, the sword is Aesop

#neverafter #forever's post #neverafter spoilers #neverafter theory #neverafter ep 7 #its a long shot but please PLEASE let me be right #honestly a person whos also a sword isnt the most farfetched thing i can think of in fairytales #only thing else i can think of is if the sword is somehow caliburn or excalibur #but the legends dont say its gold #for those of you reading this and dont know the tale #basically a very honest hardworking woodcutter is out cutting wood when one day he lost his iron axe in a lake #he didnt have any other axe and no way to support his family so he prayed #and different versions will say its Hermes/Mercury or a nameless goddess or even just a lake spirit/nymph #anyway the primordial being pulls out a silver axe and asks if thats his axe #he says no #the being does the same thing again but this time with a *gold* axe #woodcutter says no again #the being asks one more time and the woodcutter answers honestly that it isnt his and he doesnt need it because it wont cut as well #the being so pleased with the honesty gives all three axes iron silver and gold to the woodcutter and he goes home rich #i think theres also a version where a neighbor sees what happens and tries to emulate the same response but was too greedy and lies #for the gold axe and is like fucking axed or something #anyway thanks for coming to my ted talk #and reading my tags

[cubicpeebles]

Random idea:

What if the mask that Vultures have is actually a little section of shell that grows on their faces? That could be how they always seem to have one even when Scavs and Slugcats tend to remove them (and how they can get removed in the first place. They are able to shed them). They simply regrow after a while! Another idea is that it could be a little section of the eggs (assuming they lay eggs like birds) they hatch from that splits off when they hatch, and sticks onto their head (I'm just imagining a baby Vulture with a mask like twice the size of it).

#rain world #rain world vulture #rain world theory #Let me know if you have any other theories on what the mask is! I'd love to hear them! #This is 𝘵𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 unrelated to the post Afterglow made. Definitely not planning anything...

[llondonfog]

Hello! Sorry to bother you! If you have the time or the ability do you think you could compile a post of all the new info we’ve gotten for Lilia in Ch. 7 so far? I’ve been trying to find spoilers online but it’s super hard and far between. If you can’t totally cool I don’t want to be a bother I hope you’re having a lovely day/night!

Okay, let me try my best here for you, anon! (and timely question too, since we're all on pins and needles waiting for Lilia's dorm ssr and the second part of chapter 7 to drop like a brick on us all :'))

While I don't play jp twst myself (f2p en player ; u ;), this post does a good job of highlighting key aspects of chapter 7's first release, especially in relation to Lilia. I'd read through the related tagged posts on that blog too if you'd like to see some of the fan theories and discussions that were raised after the first part dropped! But I'll go ahead and list what I thought were key spoilers below as a quick guide for you— let me know if you have any questions about particular spoilers!

CHAPTER SEVEN SPOILERS BEYOND THIS POINT: (Lilia-centric)

My key takeaways were the fact that we now know that Lilia's planning to drop out of NRC within the week, he's not staying to plan his fourth-year internship. His magic has been weakening even before Silver's birth, and he's leaving the cottage and everything in it behind to Silver as he plans to leave the country and retire far away. THIS IS LIKE, IMMENIENT. HE TAKES SILVER AND SEBEK TO START PACKING HIS SHIT UP RIGHT AWAY. DO NOT (OR DO) GET ME STARTED ON HOW UPSET I AM ABOUT THIS.

(Understandably, Malleus is incredibly upset and starts the overblot process immediately. It's only part one at this point, NO OTHER DORM HAS THE DRAMATICS OF DIASOMNIA.)

While packing, we learn that he has a weapon that he brought with him to NRC (the post referenced in the link above contains an image), and that weapon was made out of a special magical material that changes shape based on the wielder's magical ability. We also learn that he was safekeeping a ring that belonged to Silver (or at least was found with him) that hints that Silver may be some kind of royalty or nobility as the ring is in the shape of a crown and matches the color of his eyes (again, the link above contains an image of the ring). Silver instantly gets sleepy when he touches it so in my book, FUCK that cursed ring. Additionally, Lilia has this acorn bracelet he's been treasuring for ages and he says it is one of his most precious possessions (just my theory: Silver made it for him as a child and has forgotten about it).

We also get a flashback courtesy of Malleus which confirms that Lilia had long hair as a guard back in the day, and that Lilia was the person closest to Malleus growing up as he wasn't afraid to approach the young prince when he was upset and provide an opportunity for Malleus to gain life lessons from his tantrums.

#lettie's asks #twst spoilers #twst chapter 7 #i may be forgetting some things? #but this was what jumped out immediately in my mind #let me know if you have any other questions/theory discussions!!