#i decided the rehearsal will be more fun for me personally as someone who has a great interest in working in theater after uni

[airenyah]

awwww besties supporting besties

[sashayed]

have you heard that jordan peele said steven yeun's character is the one that has the most in common with him. have you thought about how most of his cinematic career has been built around discussions of race and the traumas that come from racism. have you thought about how any media handling real and personal topics is a sort of emotional self-disembowelment on the part of the creator. have you thought of the glory and horror of being Seen. have you screamed

Have I? HAVE i. Have I thought about how Peele has discussed being objectified and tokenized on set, especially early in his career? Have I thought about what it's like to suffer real-life trauma in a space created for make-believe? Buddy, I haven't thought about anything else for days!!

I think one thing that makes this movie so visceral to me is that it's an exploration by a great popular artist on the human cost of making popular art. The link between the auteur and the cult leader--both are people consumed & defined by stories, people who are compelled by a narrative and feel an urge to spread that narrative to an audience.

And I am really impressed by how hard Peele seems to work to reject the cult leader in himself as best he can -- to make art that enriches the lives of ALL THE PEOPLE WHO MAKE IT. Every interview is about how collaborative and present he is as a director. Obsessed with this Q&A for many reasons but this moment sticks with me:

KEKE PALMER: There would be moments where we’re going through different parts of this script, this story, from when we first rehearsed to when we were actually on set, or when we had an idea that happened that morning. I would be listening, my head would be down, I’d be listening to what Jordan’s saying, I’m like, man this is deep. And I look up and there’d be just this one little tear falling. Man, this brother’s deep. JORDAN PEELE: I’m not afraid to cry as a director. KP: And he’s chill! He’d be like, “That’s what happens” and tears are falling. I’m like, “Are you all right?” But he keeps going and he’s like “Yeah, yeah. So that’s the thing.” And then he just walks out.

To me, that reads as a person who is NOT JUST super smart and deep and creative etc but who is also aware every moment of how lucky he is to be doing what he's doing, and who is not ashamed of his own reaction to that gratitude. What's to be ashamed of? It's incredibly fun! He is having an amazing time! He's hanging out with people he likes and respects and coating actors with goop in the esophageal tube! What a job!

I wonder if, to be that thankful and that aware (and that collaborative), you have to have experienced the flip side; if you have to have been Jupe, at least for a little while. I wonder if the process of -- to some extent -- commodifying your own suffering (as capitalism practically demands that artists do in order to survive as artists) leads, almost inevitably, to a moment where you think, "I survived this horror and became a Star because I am the main character of reality: I am more special than other people, I have a special ability to communicate, I have a special destiny." That is a powerful story and a seductive one, but if you don't leave it behind, it will eat you and the people around you alive.

It seems to me like an extension of what Peele is exploring in Us--the notion that your contentment is entangled with someone else's suffering. Why you? Why not the person with all your qualities who for whatever reason never ended up where you are? Especially for creators with marginalized identities, right? "Am I occupying a space that should belong to someone else?" You can avoid that question by deciding that you have special individual qualities that make you the Chosen One, as Jupe does. Or you can accept that the question will always haunt you, that luck (LUCKY THE FINAL HORSE??) has no logic, and you try to spread your luck out and open your space up to as many other people as you can. Which you see Peele doing all the time! Gah!!

[amazinguu-sekai]

may i request a platonic relationship with rei and ritsu as their youngest sibling who is cheerful and more energetic than the two? they still have the sakuma's illness but their youngest sibling would suddenly get bursts of energy to do some silly stuff (kinda like leo lol).

might i add, because of the unusual action of the youngest sibling, the sakuma family (aside from rei and ritsu) sees them like an alien. reader is secretly hurt and sad because of this, since theyre being treated like an outsider. though they dont particularly show it, but rei and ritsu knows and continues to stick by their side.

sorry if its very specific XD, do ignore the second paragraph if its too much :). also, feel free to decline if this doesnt interest you! still, thank you and have a nice day! :D

What it feels like being the Sakuma's youngest sibling !

kasumi: hi anon please forgive me for taking so long :( but i had fun making this one so hope you like it :33

cari: so sorry if it got out of topic! (Especially the unit part, but was quickly back on topic ><) It was an interesting request~ Thank you for requesting this! We love the Sakuma bros :3

reader: (gn) ; requested: yessu ! ; proofread: cari ; type: headcannon ; wc: 700+ ; era: !!

Another Sakuma sibling… you are so much different from your older brothers! You were talkative and always got along with everyone and even their unit mates and friends~ Lucky!

There are times where you randomly appear on either Ritsu's or Rei's practices but they don't mind, really, they want your company anyways and it's good to see you hanging out and deciding to watch them do their practice because it boosts their morale. (They want to show off in front of their sibling)

Ritsu turns you into his pillow when you decide to visit him one time saying, “I can't find Maa-kun anywhere, but you'll do. ♪” Izumi would scold Ritsu for slacking off the practice again, and… you as well. Since you appeared, Izumi would scold you for interrupting their practice and you could've just visited them when it's their break time, so Izumi told you their schedule so the next time you'll arrive is at their breaks. (Which you didn't follow)

You and Leo would be great buddies! Seriously, Izumi acts like a mother to the both of you since you two are talking about aliens and how Leo got abducted by aliens. Leo would get mad at Izumi whenever he asks you to leave, “Hey Sena! Don't make her leave!" Izumi would just sigh in disappointment because it would mean their practice will be cancelled.

Arashi will be your best friend as well! She would gladly help you out if you have troubles, or advice that you needed and if you needed someone to let out your problems and feelings whenever your brothers are busy~ (I love her sm)

Tsukasa… Well, at first, he adores you! If you like sweets, the two of you will go to various candy/cakes/sweet shops and again, you'll get scolded by Izumi alongside Tsukasa. If you're not a fan of sweets, Tsukasa completely understands it! But that doesn't change the fact that he will at least try to make you like sweets.

Now for Rei! Everytime you visit your oldest brother, he doesn't mind it when you barge into the rehearsal room, “Kukuku, how did my precious youngest sibling find me~?” He would joke about it but he is still happy you decided to visit him!

Now if you're the same age as Ritsu but maybe a year or 2 younger?? Kaoru would try to hit on you, honestly. Rei wouldn't like it and he doesn't want his youngest sibling to be tainted by Kaoru! Adonis always teaches you about some knowledge of his hometown outside Japan and if he ever got the chance, he would make you taste one of specialties! As for Koga, he's pretty surprised that someone like Rei who has a pretty mysterious personality is so different from him! He would be confused, but in the end, he would be on good terms with you. :3

There are times when you're out in the sun for too long, or tiring yourself, you would collapse. You inherited the illness as well, and Leo would get worried and will have a mental crisis trying to bring you to a shaded area as much as possible. And a few seconds later, you would be back to normal! ..just avoid staying in the sun for too long.

Due to you being pretty much different from the Sakuma's, your family members sees you as an outcast and disgrace because of how outgoing you are. You can't help but feel sad and disappointed at their words. (You would rant at Arashi about this and she feels bad for you!) But you also can't help wondering what if your older brothers think the same as them? You're worried that they're just faking their personalities to go along with yours.

Now, Rei and Ritsu don't really know the problems you're going through, but somehow when one of the Sakuma member told how “disgraceful” and “a shame to the family”, their blood boils, how can they call you with those words?! The two of them would comfort you and Ritsu would most probably hug while Rei pats your back, saying comforting words.

You don't deserve to be called like that after all, there's different types of people, they would encourage you to keep doing what you like since that's your own way and they would support you like a good brother they are!

[curatoroffiction]

Vil Meets A Writer

I like the idea of Vil meeting an MC who likes to write.

Because writers are a very driven type of person which is almost the anthesis to everything Vil considers to be a driven person, but I also think there's a fun scenario where one would be exactly the person he needs.

Because writers create stories.

Vil wants to be the star of a story where he can be the hero. Where he gets to stay on the stage and is loved by the audience, and he gets to be one of the 'good guys'.

A good writer could rectify that.

---

I like to imagine Vil and this MC truly only get to knowing each other through time together at Ramshackle. While he's toiling away with his duties working on the performance group, this MC has a side writing project they've been working on for a while. They do their part, but oftentimes they can be seen scribbling stuff down in a notebook, or spending long periods writing in a journal. And if they have it, typing away on a laptop or leaving notes to themselves in their phone.

The behavior sticks out, and at first Vil thinks that they might be taking this very seriously and taking notes on the performances. He asks them about their notes in front of the group and MC just goes ".... Sorry those are a different project."

"What kind of project?"

"... Writing."

"Please do it on your own time."

"With all due respect, if I don't write things as they come to me, I will lose them."

Vil, sighing, shaking his head. "Just don't let it interfere with your work. If you slack even a little, and I'm taking all your notebooks and such away."

---

All went well until MC missed a rehearsal call and Vil found them in Ramshackle on their computer typing furiously away at their work. The performance troupe watch on as Vil begins taking away MC's stuff, only for MC to lose it and tell him he's not responsible for them so he should back off. Vil, pissed at their lack of commitment, coldly finishes taking away their shit and locks it all in a box with a curse that anyone who opens the box before the final rehearsal will find themselves asleep until the next morning.

While the troupe considered his methods brutal, taking pity on MC's situation, none of them can open the box without incurring Vil's wrath anyway.

Which is fine because MC got Grim to open it with a promise of tuna and belly rubs.

---

Vil would wake up to MC on the couch in Ramshackle, tired, surrounded by all their stuff, Grim tucked up next to them as they write away. At this point, he's no longer heat-of-the-moment pissed, and finds himself curious about what drove the MC to go so far for their stuff back. He leans against the back of the couch, looking over their shoulder.

"I see someone's a bit of a criminal."

"It's more criminal to lock up my shit like I'm a toddler."

Ignoring their biting comment, Vil decides to question; "What is it about this stuff that it's worth more than your responsibilities and that you'd be willing to subject a friend to a curse to get it back?"

"I'm writing. Been hit with a really intense new muse, and I've been writing the most amazing story. It's why it takes up so much of my time and thoughts. It's revitalizing though."

"A new muse. What's your muse?"

"You, actually." MC doesn't look up from their work, but they do pause in their typing.

Vil finds himself thoroughly intrigued. And a little nervous, considering how hard he's been pushing everyone. ".. What kind of story is it?"

"It's a story of a protagonist that has to make a lot of tough calls and is strict, but for good reason. I saw your leadership style and it really stood out to me in an interesting way. You're more free-form than people would probably admit, you just want to ensure people under your tutelage have the means for success. You have a good idea of how to get them there, but if they can find it on their own, you'll support it. I liked that approach a lot and thought it'd make for a really inspiring leader in a messed up situation/world. The actual plot is a sci-fi horror. A harsh environment that really helps the personality to shine for its beneficial nature."

Vil is actually... touched. Hearing how he seems through their eyes is like drinking in an opinion he's been long-awaiting for. They don't know his desire to be a hero, they don't know how long he's worked to try to break out of the mold of his typecasting, and yet here they saw a hero character in him already. A hero type that Neige LeBlanche could never fit. He's staring at MC, realizing he knows nothing about them. He knows nothing about who they are and what they're doing here, or even why they became a leader in the first place. "You talk as though you're not a leader yourself."

"I suppose I am. Though, I'm a reluctant leader. Not someone with a passion for it like you. I was thrown into it. Crowley's a mess of a leader. I think calling him a leader is a bit of a stretch of the truth. But you? You're fascinating. Epel hates being under your thumb, but he works twice as hard because of it. And Epel could quit. He could quit and choose not to abide by your rules regardless, but he doesn't, because he sees that strength in you. You practice what you preach so well that even your dissenters respect that if they can't beat you, they should work with you."

Vil finds himself actually almost.. blushing. A warmth in his cheeks tells him that staying here any longer could cause him to lose his composure. He stands up. "You can keep your things, but don't miss anymore practices. Understood?"

"Aye aye, captain." MC just, giving him a soft salute as they return to typing.

---

I just really like the idea of a writer MC writing something and being like "Vil, you'd make for the leader in this really well."

"What of the rest of the cast?"

"There's a bright-eyed optimist who almost gets everyone killed because he thinks he's fighting an injustice, but is actually fighting the only person keeping the place afloat-"

"Who would you see in that part?"

"I have no idea. I don't know actors in this world. Wait. Actually, that Neige guy would probably be great for the part if he can pull off the whole knight in shining armor trope only to have it blow up in his face because this story is supposed to be more real and gritty."

"..... I'll do it."

"Vil it isn't even finished"

"You should have thought about that before sharing. Finish writing it, that's not a request. I want to play this part."

A story where he not only gets to be the hero, but also where Neige could play the part of the villain in a very believable plot??

Where has Writer MC been all his life?

[bluegekk0]

How's Lewk doing in regards of making friends? Listening to your school ramble gives me the feeling, while he has some friends, he rather stays at home after school than to go out to play with said Friends

Actually making friends isn't that big of a problem for him. He naturally attracts others' attention and makes them curious about him, but it's his sweet and kind personality that solidifies it (otherwise, the other kids would most likely feel scared of him due to his connection with Grimm, who's widely perceived as very intimidating). So it didn't take long for him to gain friends, he was surrounded by them from the first day of school.

But the problem lies in maintaining those friendships. The way he was raised definitely shaped him to be very attached to his parents - he was the center of attention, he was spoiled, especially by Grimm, who would shower him with gifts, and FPK would add to the pile with the toys he made in his workshop. But it wasn't just that, since they value affection, he grew surrounded with love, so it makes sense that he would become very close with them, but also learn to be kind to others. There's also the fact that all of his friends are younger than him, not by much, but he didn't have any playmates for a chunk of his early childhood, so that brought him even closer to his parents and family. Consequently, he didn't really get to know the other Dirtmouth children until school started.

He is naturally very curious, but he's just as dependant on his parents. The lessons are fun, he's very excited about seeing his friends, but just like you suggested, he tends to gravitate back towards his family after they're over, since being separated from his loved ones for longer periods of time makes him feel a little scared. So he's kind of split between his want to explore and make friends, and his close bond with his family. If one of his friends asks him to come out and play, you can tell he's feeling conflicted every time. Often times he declines, since he already planned to spend time drawing with Holly, going on a trip with Hornet, helping FPK in his workshop, or watching Grimm's rehearsals. So I could see the other kids viewing him as someone who's really nice but never wants to play with them, and eventually giving up on asking him to join them.

I do think this is something he'd get better at over time, though. As much as Grimm and FPK love him, they still want him to have friends, so they encourage him to go out and play with them. But I doubt he'll ever lose that close bond with his family, even if he doesn't end up quite the mama's boy Milo is shaping up to be.

---

Unrelated but I thought I'd talk about this while I'm on the topic of the future. I mentioned some time ago that Lewk's arc would be getting annoyed at how pampered he is and trying to break free from it, but after some thinking I decided that this didn't fit his personality very much. Instead, I think Asta would be more fitting for that kind of possible development, she has a much more snarky and rebellious personality, I imagine, so I could see her trying to be more independent.

I most likely won't age the kids any time soon, but thinking of the paths they could take in the future is good for character development. Like I mentioned, Lewk would be the really kind and helpful one with a close bond with his family, I think he'd end up being quite well liked among the Dirtmouth folk. Asta would be far more rebellious and cause trouble all the time just to gain some independence, though shd'd still have a soft spot for her twin brother. And Milo would stay close to and very dependent on his dads, to the point where he'd end up being a bit of an outcast among his peers, maybe even quite mean and dismissive of them, though deep down he's still very kind, just very shy and awkward which paints him as a target for mean comments.

[kingmystrieart]

2, 7, 18, 29 for jasmine my love

8, 11, 15, and 27 for arnieee

d, g, and h for both

For this ask game!

Jazmine

(i decided to change her name's spelling recently)

2. How easy is it for your character to laugh?

Very easy. She has a very broad sense of humor but in particular she quite enjoys puns. She has a fake laugh she uses to try and suppress her normal laughter because she tries to be a 'proper lady' most of the time, but once her guard is down she'll snort and holler very loudly.

7. What triggers nostalgia for them, most often? Do they enjoy that feeling?

Looking at the online videos she used to enjoy when she was younger that she used to watch with her closest friends. She used to find the nostalgia warm and happy to think about now it just reminds her of her grief. Jazmine misses her friends.

18. What embarrasses them?

Core. She's the only person who's cooler than her. She wants to upstage her so bad it makes her look silly.

Then woopsie daisy now she has a crush on her.

29. Do they usually live up to their own ideals? 

Yes! Jazmine is part of the student council of her school, captain of the volleyball team and a member of both the chess club and robotics clubs at her school. She's a straight A student with a lot of peers looking up to her, but...

She is a girl who likes to have fun, and by fun I mean wrecking stuff with her friend Candace. There was a time where her student and delinquent side weren't so separate. This caused a lot of problems for her, so she made a wish that made that pesky authenticity go away on command!

Definitely not something that could cause problems regarding her self image later on!

Arniela

8. What were they told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

Eating and playing. Their mother was strict about how much Arnie was allowed to eat, she wanted Arnie to be skinnier not just for "health" reasons but to try and make them look more like their late father who was the Cobra part of them.

Furthermore their mother would often stop Arniela from visiting friends, playing with toys, reading books they'd like, using the internet and more.

There was a lot of maltreatment in the household after their father passed and there were aspects of enmeshment happening. Such signs of enmeshment were brought up in the community meeting in which at first made people assume much much worse things happened other than emotional and physical abuse which were disproved quickly. This lead to a lot of nasty rumors though. It was the first scandal the small town ever had.

11. How do they cope with confusion (seek clarification, pretend they understand, etc)?

They don't they get angsty and upset about it and let that simmer. They were confused when their mother didn't try to defend herself in the meeting, they were confused when she relinquished custody, they were confused when she left after Arnie was put under the care of the Vantal home.

Arnie desperately, desperately wanted the mother they knew before their fathers death back. So these actions had made them bitter and resentful. When they don't understand someone it just reminds them of that frustration.

15. How do they speak? Is what they say usually thought of on the spot, or do they rehearse it in their mind first?

Arnie says the most horrible shit they can in the moment with like 2 seconds of thought and then waxes poetic about nothing later then cries themself to sleep abt how cringe everything they say is.

In other words they either overthink it or dont think at alll.....

After them dying they're forced to think about how they speak because they can barely remember any words at all. They work through this with speech therapy and magic, but after that they're a lot more thoughtful about how their words might effect others.

(THEY STILL SUCK AT TALKING AND SAY STUPID MEAN SHIT ANYWAYS THOUGGGHGHH)

27.  What causes them to feel dread? 

The mirror. There's a corpse in it.

QUESTIONS FOR ME ABOUT THEM

D) Have they always had the same physical appearance, or have you had to edit how they look?

Arnie has had a TON of looks:

Jazmine's appearance isn't complete but she's mostly consistent:

(i cant find other art of her rn)

G) What trait of theirs bothers you the most?

Arnie: Very little self awareness or awareness for others for most of the story. It makes it difficult to make them likeable.

Jazmine: She's smart and good at socializing, I am only one of those things. (smart) Jealous of her.

H) What trait do you admire most?

Arnie: Fosters a strong solid sense of justice as they grow up and has a little more humility than their sister Core about it in that they don't think anyone should choose who lives and dies LMAO.

Jazmine: She's vury purty. I love how she's one of the most feminine characters in the story so far and that she holds herself with confidence and dignity.

[weirdthoughtsandideas]

If you could make up your own dcla show, what would it be like? General plot, main character(s), which city...

So, since I live on the literal other side of the earth... Argentina is one of the countries closest to Antarctica, Sweden is one of the countries closest to the north pole, so yeah it's more or less other side of the earth /hj

Well, I live in another context and culture from where the dcla shows take place, which means a lot may be different than someone who lives in Argentina, or in South America in a whole.

Though, it doesn't stop me from finding things in the shows relatable, of course. But anyway, keep in mind that I, again, may have other perspectives.

This is how a swedish nerdy weird girl would do a dcla show:

Well, first of: I'd like a main character with perhaps more siblings or a bigger family. I always love the family storylines in the dcla shows, and I love the found family aspects. But the dcla main characters always are only children or youngest children who's been living as only-children for a while. I need specifically a middle child main character. She can have a brother and a sister, for good measure (and the dcla mc is a girl, it's just how it is). If I wanna make her closest to myself, she can have an older sister that's almost 2 years older and a little brother who's at least 5 years younger

Of course, a dcla horsegirl show would be very fun, but I have two other approaches: either a theatre kid or a swimmer.

Both could work. The main character doesn't necessarily have to go to a performing arts school - what she could do is simply go to a normal school and have theatre on her freetime. I can picture them getting a script, deciding the play is boring, then perhaps write their own script. There would be a plot about how the script is too personal to someone's life, and probably someone shy who doesn't say much, go "hey I made this scene, wanna try it?" and no one tries it until eventually, they consider it and realize "hey, shy person, your script is great!!!!". The music aspect would be a little on the side. Of course, people will sing too, maybe not necessarily in the plays (as I don't think they necessarily need to do musicals), but on the side. Maybe someone has a band, maybe they just like singing for fun's sake. Maybe one of main character's siblings likes music and she sings a lot at home.

Also, all the "I didn't study for my test because I had play rehearsal", people waiting and being let down because people were late due to play rehearsal, people kissing on or behind the stage, someone wanting to sabotage the theatre... we got it all.

Now, swimming: I think what would work best is synchronized swimming, just because of all the shows they could perform. Main character LOVES swimming, she likes being underwater because she feels like a mermaid. Maybe she has friends who are into other water activities, one is one the swimming race team and one is on the diving team. Or they're not her friends but her love interests, idk.

Here, we could also have drama. Maybe someone almost drowning. Someone accidentally falling from a diving board that's high up and hurting themselves. Maybe someone trying to ruin the synchronized swimming routine.

The music aspect? They perform their swimming shows in rhytm to music. The swimmers can't sing obviously, so it's pre-recorded. Or there's a live band there beside the pool just playing, you know, the standard dcla chaos/logic

Also, a lot of scenes would take place in locker rooms and while obviously not much would happen, I feel we'd get some wlw content just by like. The tension there. Idk.

A third crack idea: Mc likes trampolines. She likes jumping high and doing stunts in the air. The theme song of the show is called "Salta" and just shows everyone jumping. Would follow the theme of "obscure sport that's treated like the biggest thing in the world" theme continuing from SL. But this is less polished and just a random idea I had in my head.

Now, besides what her main interest/s are, mc also has a more... normal school. Not a fancy private school or a special school for arts or something, just a normal school. Not saying they need to focus much on the school, but still like. Show them there.

There has to be a family mystery, and I lowkey want it to be not a dead relative, but rather a "relative they don't talk about". I want it most of all to be an aunt that's an outcast for some reason. Like, the aunt still comes to family gatherings and stuff, but she's mysterious as heck and mc wants to learn more.

Also, I just want everyone to be queer, of course. Would be marvelous if the main character was queer and in love with her bestie. But also, I love a queer mean girl. Maybe also the aunt can be, or one of her siblings. Just everyone /hj <3

That is all I can think about. I realize I made several potential shows in one, but that is me.

Also I didn't say which city but like. I guess Buenos Aires, cause every dcla show has to take place there /j

[divinely-personified]

Help!

I just want to stop being fat and disgusting.

This is a real story. Not a poem.

A couple of days ago, I was at school, and I was hanging out in a classroom after school hours. It was just me and two boys (both younger than me. I don't want to say what grades, but just take that into consideration) The three of us were waiting for rehearsal for a musical to begin. So while we waited, we started playing a video game on one of the boy's switches. He had 3 controllers, so the three of us played. I don't really play video games anymore, but I decided to join in because why tf not? So we're playing and one of the boys (we'll, just call him Peter. Peter was getting all pissed and mad that he wasn't really moving on in the game. And you know how boy get when they are losing in a video game. So yea. I was also likelosing, but I was chill, cuz it's just a game. So me and the other boy (let's pretend his name is Daniel) are making fun of Peter getting all mad and yelling over a couple points. So Peter starts calling me dumb for not caring. Idgaf it's a game. So I tell him "I'm just being the bigger person by not getting mad" and he says to me "you sure look like a bigger person"

I'm just gonna let that sink in. Yes, it's a joke. Hahaha, funny. I'm fat, I get it. But what kind of hurt me the most was how he erupted in laughter at his joke even though I didn't find it remotely hilarious. And what hurt even more was the fact that Daniel laughed at his dumb joke. He didn't exactly react the same, but he still laughed. And that hurt, because idk I thought he was more mature than that. I thought he was smart enough to notice that I wasn't laughing, I was shocked. I was shocked that he would say it and even more shocked how it came so naturally to him. I just wanted to die in that moment. I wanted to crawl out of my nasty, flabby and fat, and horrendous skin. AAAUUUGGH!!! I internally scream. Like, dude. I already hate my body enough. I don't need to be reminded how disgusting I look. I'm self-aware. Do you really think I don't look at myself in a fucking mirror and wish I were someone different. I'm not that delusional, you imbecile. You piece of fucking shit. You scum of the earth who only came to this planet to ruin people's lives.

And guess what? It doesn't stop their. Because just today, he also had to make a joke out of my body. You know how the "shh, I'm mewing" face is like a popular meme right now. So, while I was in class wiht Peter I made that face to him and another guy. And he says "Shut the fuck up you bowling ball looking ass face"

WHAT THE FUCK!!!!!!!!

OH MY GOSH HAHAHA SO FUNNY SHES FAT AND HER FACE IS ROUND AND CHUBBY EVERYONE LAUGH AT THE FAT GIRL.

Go to hell, Peter. Go to hell. You and everyone who has made me feel this away about the body I was born into.

[tuesday7econlive]

Opportunity Costs of Running a Small Business

As someone who is deeply involved with the arts, I am constantly trying to find different outlets to express my creativity and artistry. On top of my love for the arts, I have always been interested in the business world in the sense that I wanted to start my own business. However, the issue was not having enough time to fully commit to starting a business due to my busy dance and school schedules. Here is an example of how my weekly dance schedule and academic schedule looked in both high school and as a first-year dance major:

As you may notice, I did not have time to partake in other creative activities. That is until COVID-19 hit—the pandemic that stopped almost all of our regular daily activities. My school was closed, and worse still, my ballet school—the place I’d spent my afternoons for the past 14 years—was ordered to be shut. So yes, I had a lot of free time.

While many of my friends were bingeing their favorite shows on Netflix, I was searching for a creative outlet. I tried knitting, but it required too much counting. Painting was fun, but there were too many things to clean. Origami had too many steps, and my cranes would end up in a crumpled mess.

It wasn’t until I saw a video online that showed someone doing hand embroidery on a pair of jeans that I felt excitement. I ordered my first embroidery kit, waited for it to arrive, and went straight to work. My first few attempts at creating a leaf looked more like my tangled hair, but I kept practicing. So, I stayed up many nights obsessed with exploring and experimenting with this new craft. I embroidered my designs on t-shirts, belts, hats, and bags and gave them to friends as presents. I also posted them on social media. People started asking to buy them from me. I had not planned to sell my creations, and yet that prospect intrigued me. So, I started my small handmade business on Etsy and named it Taroobi. It has become a great outlet for me to explore my creativity and create new products. 

Now you may be wondering, how are the concepts of microeconomics realte to my small business?

During UCI’s Winter Vendor Fair on Ring Road that recently took place, I was fortunate enough to have my shop featured in this fair making it the first time Taroobi’s products sold in person. While this was an exciting new experience for Taroobi, it came with a lot of preparations and sacrifices. In other words, the opportunity costs were unexpectedly a lot. Since I decided to spend my time preparing for this fair for the first half of the Winter quarter while being a full-time student, it came at the cost of class attendance, turning in assignments on time, studying, attending rehearsals, meals, and socializing with friends. To be more specific, to make sure I prepared properly and well for my fair, I did not have enough time to do a lot of my homework, study for my midterms, eat proper meals, and even just have time to hang out with friends. 

To get into the specifics of my products in my shop, I had to factor in both my implicit and explicit costs when figuring out the prices of my products. My implicit costs consisted of the price of the material of the products while my explicit costs consisted of my time, booth fee, rent of tables and chairs, packaging, and any display items. Even though in the ideal or perfect world in terms of economics, I should be pricing my items a lot more than I did to make a good amount of profit, especially when considering all of my explicit costs. However, since I am a small business, I decided to price things just considering the implicit cost as my goal for this fair was to get more customers and create more exposure to my brand. I am aware that in the perfect economic world, this would not be ideal. However, I took into account that my target customers are college students who are mostly not financially stable to be spending money on too many nonessential products. In addition, some of my explicit costs such as the display costs, I will not have to worry about in the future since it is reusable. All of my profits as of right now go back into investing in Taroobi meaning that I do not give myself a wage. When looking at my business at first, one may think that it is in a competitive market, but in actuality, it is theoretically a monopolistic market. While there are some companies out there that make similar types of products compared to mine, they are not the same as what I do especially due to the fact that everything I make is all original designs and can not be offered by other businesses. 

As there are theoretically correct decisions to make in the idealistic world to minimize profits, sometimes these decisions could be different depending on one's goals.

Ruby Rachman 

ID#: 59548756

[unpredictable-probabilities]

The Two Princes

Summary:

The Fairy Gala mission is over, and Leona is ready to catch up on all his missed sleep. However, Malleus has decided to pay him a visit, and the fae prince has questions. 

Includes: tsundere Leona, soft Malleus, intense kissing

Word Count: 1,452

---

Leona pushed open his door and stretched, yawning. The Fairy Gala mission was over and he could finally get out of these clothes and sleep for as long as he wanted. 

He tossed his cape on the bed and stopped in front of his mirror to remove whatever plants they put on his head.

“No wonder they chose you for the mission,” a voice said behind him. 

His ears turned to the sound, and he looked at the reflected figure in his mirror. “What are you doing here?” he crossed his arms.  

“I wanted to inquire about the mission,” Malleus stepped into the room, his horns almost scraping the top of the doorframe. “They told me you had gone back here already.”

“The mission went great, you can go now,” Leona scowled at the Diasomnia Prefect’s reflection. 

Malleus didn’t seem to hear him. “You are as beautiful as any fae in the royal court, I regret not having witnessed your performance.”

Leona tensed, Malleus had stepped closer and was now standing right behind him, staring at him through the mirror.  “Yeah? Well, I’m no graceful fairy,” he removed the flowers in his hair and roughly tossed them aside, “I’m just me.”

“That is the best part,” Malleus smiled softly. “You are you.”

Leona averted his eyes. “You already know the mission was successful, why are you still here?”

Malleus took a few seconds to answer, glancing down momentarily before looking at Leona again. “I also wanted to thank you for sending that invitation to the Prefects’ meeting last week. I knew you were busy with rehearsals, so I opted to wait until the mission was over,” he spoke in his usual gentle voice. “Thank you for remembering me.”

“That wasn’t me,” Leona lied immediately, his tail swishing behind him in agitation. He had been extremely careful about leaving that invitation at Diasomnia, he didn’t know how Malleus found out but he wasn’t about to admit it. 

“And the person who left that pint of ice cream in my bag when the cafeteria had run out?” Malleus' eyes sparkled in amusement. “I suppose that was not you as well?”

Leona gritted his teeth. He had seen how sad Malleus looked when the kitchen staff said that there was no more ice cream. And he had some extra on his table. Why let them go to waste, right? 

“Yeah, that wasn’t me either,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t even like chocolate ice cream.”

“I never said it was chocolate.”

They stared at each other’s reflections, Malleus’ curious eyes and Leona’s defiant ones. 

Leona turned around and shoved him. “What do you want, you overgrown fae? Are you here to make fun of me?”

The shove barely affected Malleus, Leona was pretty sure he just took a step back to be polite.

“Why do you do this?” Malleus furrowed his brows in confusion. “You evidently care for me and yet you push me away like I burn you. I do not understand.” 

Of course you don’t, Leona thought bitterly. Someone like Malleus would never understand the necessity of avoiding what you can’t have. 

“You’re the crown prince!” he snapped, all the anger finally bursting out of him. Anger at himself for not staying far enough away. Anger at Malleus for making it harder for him. “You’re heir to the throne, and my own kingdom hates me. What would people say?” His voice broke and ended in almost a whisper. 

It was painful to be alone with Malleus, to have him so close and know that he could never be close enough.

Malleus looked taken aback at his outburst, but Leona thought he saw understanding in those gold-flecked green eyes. 

“You are right,” he slowly walked toward Leona, and the beastman didn’t realize he had been backing away until the mirror stopped him. “I am the crown prince,” he held Leona’s gaze with determination.

Malleus stopped so close that Leona had to tilt his head up to see his face properly. He couldn’t look away, anticipating and dreading what Malleus was going to say next.

“Which means I can be with whomever I want and there is nothing anyone can do about it.” The boldness in his eyes softened as he looked earnestly at Leona. “That is, if you will have me.”

He reached out and very gently touched Leona’s face. 

“Malleus…” he had meant for it to sound threatening, but his breath hitched and he heard the tremble in his voice. 

Malleus’ touch was light as a feather; his fingertips barely grazed Leona’s skin, but they still left a trail of goosebumps as they traveled from his cheek to his jaw. 

“You are the one I want, Leona,” he retracted his hand, and Leona had to fight the urge to take it back and press it against his face. “Will you be with me?”

Leona had never seen Malleus like this before. He seemed… shy. His forehead was creased with worry and his voice carried none of the confidence it had just moments ago.

The taller Prefect’s captivating eyes were filled with cautious hope and a sincere desire to know what the other wanted. 

Leona felt the last of his defenses crumble away like fine sand. 

“Dammit,” he grabbed Malleus by the collar and fiercely pressed their lips together.  

He felt Malleus tense up in surprise for a moment before leaning in so much that he pushed Leona against the mirror. 

Feeling the cold glass behind him and Malleus’ warm body in front made him shiver, the contrasting sensations heightening his senses. 

Malleus’ arms wrapped around his waist, and Leona’s hands found the fae’s hair, clenching tightly and pulling him down even closer, his tail wrapping around his thigh. They held onto each other as if their lives depended on never letting go. 

Leona reached out with his tongue, running it across those lips that were softer than he had ever imagined. Malleus met him with equal gusto, and their bodies moved to the same rhythm as their tongues, stroking, caressing, entwining. 

They shared every heated breath, and Leona couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t know the taste of Malleus’ mouth, the feeling of his hands all over his body. He was vaguely aware of his tail flicking back and forth, thumping the wall almost as loudly as the heart hammering against his chest.  

Malleus was kissing him with an intensity that made him feel like prey instead of predator. And when he felt Malleus’ lips on his neck—something that a predator would never expose—he found that he didn’t mind at all. 

Hot lips and tongue explored every inch of his neck, fangs grazing his skin until they bit down gently and made his mouth fall open in a silent gasp. 

Leona’s eyes had rolled back in his head, his fingernails dug into Malleus’ shoulders as soft growls emanated from his throat. 

Malleus trailed kisses up from his neck until their lips met again and their tongues danced with each other once more. The fae prince’s scent was intoxicating, and Leona breathed in lungfuls of it, panting against his mouth. 

Something bright shone through Leona's closed eyelids, he opened them and saw golden orbs of various sizes glowing and floating around his room. Flowering vines were growing on the walls too, crawling all the way up to the ceiling. The smell of petrichor and cedar slowly filled the room, reminding Leona of the botanical gardens. 

He broke the kiss and looked around in disbelief. 

“Are you alright?” Malleus breathlessly asked in concern, one hand on his back and the other cupping his cheek. 

Leona noticed for the first time that Malleus was glowing with a similar golden aura as the floating lights. 

He followed Leona’s gaze and looked over his shoulder, his eyebrows rising in mild surprise. “I… I apologize,” he glanced back at Leona, his glow gradually disappearing. “I usually have better control of my magic. I can put them away—” 

“No,” Leona instinctively wrapped his arms tighter around Malleus’ neck. “It’s okay. Leave them.”

Something glinted in Malleus’ eyes as he smiled at Leona. 

“What are you grinning about?” Leona scowled even as he felt his face warm under Malleus’ piercing gaze. 

“You want me too,” Malleus remained smiling as he gently pressed his forehead against Leona’s, never breaking eye contact.

“Of course I do,” Leona said without hesitation. 

He quickly stepped to the side and pushed Malleus with all his might. 

The surprised look on the crown prince’s face as he landed backwards on the bed was nothing short of endearing. 

Leona pounced on top of him and kissed him deeply, prepared to show exactly just how much he wanted him. 

(Masterlist)

(Ko-fi)

[jiminzfilter]

slow dancing in the night

→ Pairing. Taehyung x reader

→ Genre. established relationship, fluff, slice of life, model!taehyung, model!reader, taehyung missed you a lot, he is starving (his words not mine), gets a bit hot by the last 40 lines, mentions of oral (f) so I guess this counts as mature content, implied smut, making out (kinda), there is a bit of swearing

→ Summary. what could possibly be better than coming home after a long day of work to someone you love and missed a lot ?

→ Word count. 3.2k (!!!)

→ because I wrote this over a year ago when I still didn't know what I was doing with my writing, I had to go through a deep process of editing and re-writing before posting it. This might not be my best work but it's still a fic that I really really like :,)

→ song rec. slow dancing in the dark, Joji// still with you, Jungkook

Fridays have always been exhausting days for both you and your boyfriend, especially on runways weeks. As models, you were put under a lot of pressure.

Pressure to be perfect, to smile but never smile too much, to look good, to not fall on stage.

Falling has to be the most tragic thing that can happen to your carreer as a model, the hungry stares of thousands of photographers and reporters ready to share the latest news to the press.

Yeah, it was exhausting.

This week was no exception... or maybe it was since, this time, you were the only one working until late.

It’s four in the morning and you’re already on your way out - kind of running late, oBviOusLy - quietly wishing your boyfriend a good day.

He is not working today.

That lucky bastard.

He gets to enjoy his free day in bed, lazing around, while you work your ass off all day. He mumbles something that you assume is a sort of goodbye. He is still asleep.

You look at him one last time before leaving the room and smile. He looks so peaceful.

You still remember the day you met, by pure luck even though you both call that fate. That was 5 years ago, when you just debuted your career as a model and were not that comfortable around high heels.

Okay no. Let’s be real.

You hated wearing them because you couldn’t walk in heels higher than 5 cm.

It’s still a wonder how you managed to make it in the first place.

Were you wearing flat shoes for the audition ? Damn you really must’ve done an impression on the judges if they made you pass without the heels try-on.

Your first day at the agency was chaotic to say the least. Your manager made you walk around the building, to visit she said. She made you wear heels. HEELS. That devilish person.

But, thank to that, you got to meet Taehyung. Your eyes landed on him as you were visiting the lounge and couldn’t tear them away from his figure. The poor man had to witness you fall down because you weren’t watching your steps anymore.

I mean.

Who could blame you ??

That was Kim frEaking Taehyung

!!!

He even came to help you get back on your feet and asked if you were alright, kind of amused.

It’s not everyday you see someone falling down in here, let alone a newbie

Let’s be honest, you were so embarrassed.

First day of work and you’re already failing falling.

That night when you came home, you spent the night wearing heels and prayed really hard you’d never have to face him again. After all, the building was big enough and there were enough workers that you could avoid Taehyung easily

If only

The NeXt day, you were told that you had a couple shooting, with none other that Kim Taehyung.

GreaT

He would occasionally tease you about your fall and check on you to see if everything was alright. He watched you carefully as you were walking around with heels.

From up close he looked even more handsome.... :)

After this day, you started talking with Taehyung more and more. He introduced you to everyone around the agency. You met outside of work, got to know each other. You both became regally good friends but there was something lingering in the air, in the way you’d look at each other or stood so close to him after a couple glasses of wine that you could breathe his air.

So what was bound to happen happened and you went from friends a to lovers without really noticing it.

He was still your best friend...somehow

Eventually, you took things to the next level and moved in together... maybe a half and a year ago or so ? You’ve never been happier in your life

And, well, you’d actually be happier if you could spend the day with boyfriend instead of running around trying to find god knows which accessories you need for the rehearsal.

8 in the morning is noT a time to be doing cardio.

Especially while wearing heels

Become a model they said, it’ll be fun they said

“Y/n! Come here please I need you to try on this dress before you go!” Your personal stylist calls “I made sure to fix it yesterday so it’d be a perfect fit for the show”

You stop your tracks and go to her “make this quick i have to go get changed before 9 otherwise I’m screwed. Why did they even decide to do the rehearsals so early today ?” You sigh, frustrated, and put on the dress she’s handing you “thank you”

“Okayyy...it looks great. Gold looks amazing on you.” She smoothes the dress and gives an approving nod, visibly satisfied ; “You’ll look perfect for the Grand Finale. Oh god it’s already 8:30 you better go before Mr.Kim throws a fit because you’re late”

You both giggle ; “thank you for fixing the dress Naeun, see you later today. Well, probably tonight. Byeeee”

The rehearsal seems to never end. You’re squeezed in dozens of different outfits, gorgeous for sure but sO tight. Mr. Kim, the one who organised the runway, is such a perfectionist that you have to re-do some things multiple times before he’s satisfied. One time the lighting isn’t right, the other the models are walking too fast, not on beat and so on.

Everyone hates him for that but he always makes the best shows so you just follow.

After multiple tries, the rehearsal finally comes to an end. It’s already 4PM. You barely get time to breathe and go pee before you’re back into the ‘running-around-to-find-my-dress-and-fix-my-makeup-oh-god-i-gotta-be-on-stage’ crazy mess.

Walking on the runway feels amazing, running backstage is terrible.

It’s so hot and small back there you can hardly move around well.

It takes 2 hours for the whole fashion show to be over, one more for pictures outside the catwalk and chat with reporters. Since you’re kind of a famous model now, you get invited to the afterparty and spend few extra hours interacting with some celebrities that attended the show. Other models were invited and you’re happy to see familiar faces amongst them. Jimin, an old colleague and friend of yours, comes your way and compliments you. You chat with him for a while before deciding you’ve had enough for the day and leave the party. A few more people greet you on your way out.

A taxi takes you back to you company, where you left your stuff in the morning. You spend an extra thirty minutes getting rid of your heavy makeup and striping off that gorgeous but awfully tight golden dress you’ve been wearing ever since the end of the runway.

Now, you can FinaLLy go home. yassssss

It’s almost 12am when you leave the agency and climb into yet another taxi. The ride is quiet, background music playing over the car’s radio, and you take some time to look at what you were gifted for your performance : fancy makeup products, accessories, pieces of clothing-but not those from the runway, you sadly never get to keep those. Being kinda famous has its perks :,)

You then decide it’s time to warn Taehyung you’ll arrive soon and send him a few texts. As if he was waiting for them, he instantly replies saying he’ll be waiting for you and proceeds to spam you with heart emojis. Sometimes, it looks like this man just discovered what emojis were and is trying to use them as much as possible. What a child…

It’s way past midnight when you finally step into your duplex and the first thing you notice is that the place is way too quiet.

Maybe Tae went back to sleep, who knows, it’s super late after all…

:(

You remove shoes and jacket and drop your bags in the entrance before going further and you call out quietly “anyone here? Tae, you sleeping?”

There is a faint glow from the tv on your right but the sound has been muted.

Weird…

“Taehyung ?" You call one last time

Suddenly, two strong arms wrap themselves around your waist and you’re pulled into someone’s chest. You gasp, almost scream, but soften up when you feel the warmth on your back

“Hi baby” a deep voice says in your ear, sending chills down your spine “I missed you”

You turn around and are very pleased to see a handsome face and a warm exposed chest your boyfriend smiling at you.

“Mhm, missed you too” You wrap your arms around him and rest your head against his chest, happy to hear his heartbeat. Taehyung places his head atop of yours and gently strokes your hair. You tighten your grasp around him and hum.

Few seconds later, he lifts your chin up and gently lays a kiss on your lips.

“How are you doing?” He asks, his right hand cupping your cheek. The warmth of it is comforting.

“Exhausted, but you know how it goes” You shrug and he smiles

“Not too tired for dinner ? I could cook something if you want”

“Mhm... let me just go shower and put something else on” You sadly let go of him

“Sure, go ahead” he whispers and you give him a kiss before regretfully tearing yourself away from him.

You walk up the stairs to your bedroom, where you find the bed undone. You smile, Taehyung never really liked making the bed and, very honestly, neither did you. You slump onto the mattress and bury your face into the pillows, inhaling his scent. Lavender. Relaxing. Just like he is.

After a warm shower, you find a t-shirt Taehyung left on a chair in the room and wear it. It’s big enough to reach your thighs and, if you were more energised, you’d probably stay like this. You grab large pants and put them on.

Once again, you smell lavender all around you.

When you’re back in the living area, you see Taehyung busying himself in the kitchen. He hears your steps and his eyes find yours as a smile appears on his face when he notices that you’re wearing his shirt

“My shirt looks better on you than it’d ever do on me” He teases, his gaze longing on your frame.

“maybe I should keep it then” you smile and ask ; ”Do you need any help?”

“no no no no no, you’ve worked enough already. Go and have some rest. I'll call you when everything’s ready okay?”

Too tired to argue on this anyways -and thankful for the given rest-, you go lay down on the couch, your body oriented to let you look at Taehyung.

As he hums and moves to the chill music that was playing in the background, you start to detail his beautiful figure. From the curl of his dark hair (which you knoW are so so soft to the touch) to his beautiful profile and his nose you love so much down to his broad shoulder and then his tanned abs you see from time to time when the opened shirt of his pyjama moves according to his steps.

oH! Let’s not forget his perfect hands gripping at the pan’s handle while he cooks… vegetables? Something like that yeah.

Taehyung is giving his best into what he’s cooking. Vegetables with rice, that’s the only thing he could do quickly.

Quickly as in less than half an hour, unlike his friend Namjoon who’d take this time just to cook the rice.

The music he put earlier is slowly starting to bore him. After washing his hands, he reaches out for his phone and plays a different playlist. It’s one you name yourself when the two of you were still friends (aka not dating yet). “Taetae fm” because you once joked he should have his own broadcasting channel on the radio. He’d always criticise the music playing so why not have his own channel 👀

“You know Y/n, I actually watched the fashion show live this afternoon. I mean, of course you know because I always do that haha. Anyways, you really were the highlight of the runway tonight. And I’m not saying this in a biased point of view. Okay I might be a bit biased as your boyfriend but I swear that it’s true!! You literally shone back there, especially in that gold dress you were wearing and even the audience was impressed by your looks maybe you didn’t see it on stage but some cameras filmed their reactions and everyone was looking at you. Really, you were so gorge-oh” Taehyung looks at you and smile fondly “Of course you’re asleep, baby”

He lets his phone aside and checks the now cooked food before making his way to the couch. There’s a blanket on the sofa, he covers you with it, scared you might get cold. Taehyung put a loose strand of hair behind your ear and places a kiss on your chin.

You slowly open your eyes and find yourself face to face with him. You both smile.

“Hi there beautiful” He whispers

“what time is it? Did I sleep until the morning?” You’re scared of having slept through the entire nap without realising

“almost 1:20am, I just finished cooking. I thought you might be cold so I went to cover you with the blanket. You should go enjoy the food while it’s still hot, imma go to the toilet”

You nod as an answer and watch him leave upstairs. Getting up from the warmth of the couch is the hardest part so you keep the soft blanket draped around your shoulders and walk towards the kitchen. You grab two bowls and two pairs of chopsticks that you place on the counter along with glasses and a bottle of water.

You then go take care of the rice and the vegetables, which you mix in the pan. The song playing changes and your favourite nighttime tune starts.

“I don’t want a friend, I want my life in two” you sing along

“Waiting to get there, waiting for you” Taehyung’s voice startles you as he grabs your wrists and pulls your back close to him. You smile as he makes the both of you dance slowly. You put his arms around you so it’s like he’s hugging you from the back. You swing around for a little while, enjoying the close proximity as you both softly hum the song, making your body vibrate against each other, moving in perfect coordination.

“I love you” he whispers in your ear and then kisses it, sending chills down your spine, before lifting one of your arm up to make you turn so that you’re now facing him “did my baby sleep well?” You nod as you place your arms around his waist, paying attention to go under the shirt so you’re touching as much skin as possible.

Taehyung chuckles before asking you in that same, chill-sending, low deep voice ; “Still hungry? Because I’m starving”

If you didn’t just wake up, you would’ve definitely caught that lust in his eyes and also the fact that this wasn’t as innocent as it seemed.

As an answer, your stomach growls pretty loudly, making Taehyung laugh . “I’ll take that as a yes. Sit down, princess. Let me take care of you”

You do as he says, jumping on a stool, detailing all of his moves. You only realise how hungry you actually were when you start eating. Rice with vegetables has never tastes better. You eat everything in less than 5 minutes when you’d usually take your time to finish your plate.

“Damn, that was a well needed dinner! Thank you Tae” you mess a bit with his soft locks

“Imagine me who was waiting for you all evening!! I was hungry too” He pouts.

“Oh come on, I was working today. Cardio in heels isn’t the best way to wake up, let alone spend the whole day standing in tight clothes. When I think you has a day off… pfff. I saw the bed, I’m sure you stayed there all day, you lazyyyyyyyyy ass.”

He mumbles some gibberish and you giggle, knowing that you're right. He looks away, crossing his arms and obviously sulking. You leave your stool and stand behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. You leave a few kisses on his cheek and neck

“- Don’t be such a babyy. You know I love you.

- You do?

- of course, you dummy” you bop his nose "Sooo, what do we have for desert?

- You. Uh I mean!! Yoghurt, fruits, cakes, fruits…anything” he clears his throat

“Great! What do you prefer?” You open the fridge

“ I’d very happily eat you out honestly but an apple sounds good”

“Oh sur- wait whaT!?” You snap your head to him, eyes wide open

what did he sayyyyyyyy?????

whaT am I even supposed to say noW oh my goddddd

You close the fridge’s door, suddenly not so yogurt-hungry.

There’s a sudden silence between the two of you, only disturbed by the music still playing in the background.

“Mhm? What is it?” He turns around to face you, asking so innocently “did I say something wrong ?”

This man knows what he is doing for sure. Has he ever been that straightforward before ?

Taehyung stands and closes the distance between your bodies, now towering over you.

He lowers himself slightly to speak in your ear “what is it baby? Mhm?” You feel his smile on your cheek when he lays a kiss on it “what happened to my all proud and fierce y/n who was so confident telling me I was being lazy all day, huh? Tell me” He lays another kiss on your temple

OkaY

now he’s being a tease

Great

1 A.M. fluffy and bare chested teaser Taehyung

gReAT

Anyhow, it’s a good turn on.

Really.good.freaking.turn.on

Being tired and turned on was definitely not a good mix for you. You could feel the heat rising in your body and hear your heart pounding in your ears.

“Tae…”

He laughs gently seeing you silently begging for more, brushing your face with his lips, teasing another kiss.

“Tsk tsk, you gotta speak darling, I cannot guess”

You should calm down and go to sleep, it’s 1am and you have work tomorrow you should definitely-

“Fuck-“ You sigh and grab his face, sealing your lips together while closing your eyes.

It doesn’t take long for that kiss to turn into a heated make out session.

You grab and pull some of his dark curls while his hands travels under his your shirt.

You break the kiss just a second to catch your breath.

“Have i ever told you you have the perfect body?” Taehyung asks

“Did I ever tell you how perfect you are??” You reply

He laughs, deep raspy laugh.

You’re too tired for this

And because you’re tired, you’re even more horny :D

Taehyung puts his hands behind your thighs and you jump, locking your legs around his waist, hands still in his hair, lips against his while carries you to the bedroom.

He leaves your lips to travel down your jaw and then collarbone. You throw your head back.

Taehyung gently lays you on the mattress of your king sized bed and makes it his personal mission to pleasure you tonight.

[lucytara]

Yeah I get wanting some variation in your writing and whatnot. Hmm.

Gold. "I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her." Bumbleby.

Have fun!

it’s possible. that i went. a little overboard with this prompt. 

"I defy you. I defy your god. The laws of the universe said my love was gone from me. I said watch me save her."

All four candles are lit in the corners of the small room, wicks burning purple and melting black wax. Her offering sits in a dish at the feet of the small statue - an old, worn piece of paper, bent and torn around its edges - and she herself kneels in the center of the floor, her hands clasped.

“I’ve never done this,” she begins, “but my name is Yang Xiao Long, and I humbly request an audience.”

Nothing happens, though she isn’t sure what she would’ve expected even if it had; the flames flicker with her unsteady heartbeat, the blood in her ears crashing as if waves in a storm. For some reason it’s embarrassing, calling on a higher entity who decides to put you through to voicemail.

She tries again, and aims for theatrical exaggeration; maybe the gods like a bit of a show. If she’s making a fool of herself, she might as well do it brilliantly. “O, Great Goddess! I call upon thee - All-Knowing Ruler of the Dead, Empress of the Night, Most Holy Lady of Darkness, Reigning Queen of Entropy--”

“I think that’s probably enough,” a voice comes from in front of her, amusement evident beneath its tone. “What was that one in the middle? ‘Empress of the Night’? I might keep that.”

Her head whips up towards the sound, and a woman in a deep purple cloak is leaning against her own statue, arms crossed and watching her performance with a look that can only be described as shameless delight. Gorgeous black hair framing golden eyes, like the sky wrapping itself around stars; the statue doesn’t do her justice.

“Oh my God,” Yang says, sitting back on her heels. All the preparation and rehearsing she’d done isn’t enough to conquer the shock of a beautiful, unearthly woman appearing in front of her and--

“Yes, I get that a lot.”

--mercilessly mocking her.

“Well, Yang Xiao Long?” the woman continues. “Why have you called upon me?”

“How do you know my name?” Yang says stupidly.

“I’m a god,” the goddess replies, a smile pulling at a corner of her mouth. “I’m the all-knowing ruler of the dead or whatever. Also, you said your name when you summoned me.”

“Fuck,” Yang says, struggling to regain her composure and failing spectacularly. “I - yeah. Right. Okay. Is it rude to swear in front of gods? And what do I call you?”

“I’ll allow it,” the woman says. “And you can call me Blake.”

“Blake,” Yang repeats; her hands open and close like a nervous tick. The name is a heavy weight in her mouth, settling her into steadiness. “I’ve come to request guidance.”

“Guidance?” Blake repeats, and gently lifts the note from the offering dish, turning it carefully around her hands without opening it to read it - she doesn’t need to. Yang registers faint surprise in her expression; yes, she’d assumed the sentimentality would fetch a rather large price. “This is quite the payment.”

“It’s the last note I have from someone who loved me,” Yang says. “I figured it would be sufficient.”

Those bright, inquisitive eyes glance over to her, and now the playing field has been reversed: intrigue and curiosity outweigh Yang’s atrocious initial delivery.

“Stand, please,” Blake commands softly. “I want to get a good look at you.”

Obediently, Yang rises to her feet, and with an odd jolt realizes she’s a few inches taller than the goddess. It’s unexpected, and it seems to unnerve Blake for a moment, too. Or maybe that’s the candlelight, throwing shapes and colors, turning the room cavernous. Maybe Blake is shrinking and she’s growing. Maybe once she was so tall the entire world trembled beneath her feet.

“You already have power,” Blake says, circling her curiously, and now she’s seeing what isn’t visible, looking for handprints on her soul. “You have been claimed. Whom do you answer to?”

“I didn’t receive this power from a god,” Yang says quietly. “I’ve had it as long as I can remember.”

“That’s impossible,” Blake says, and her gaze is piercing into Yang’s heart; she sees its strength, but she sees its scars, too. And its emptiness. There is plenty of that.

“Touch me,” Yang says. “You’ll find no prior claim.”

“I don’t need to.” Blake takes another step closer to her, the way you’d inspect a painting in a museum. Hands at her sides, cautious of glass and rope. “I can see your aura. But it’s impossible.”

“I’m looking for something,” Yang says, and Blake glances up, briefly meeting her eyes. “I don’t know what it is. But I’ve been looking for something for what feels like my entire life.”

Quizzical, now. One by one the candles are burning down. The room is collapsing in on them, or perhaps that’s simply the god in front of her, looking like she’d dive into Yang’s veins and unravel her if it were permitted.

“Why me?” Blake asks finally. “You know what I’m the goddess of, don’t you?”

“You guard death,” Yang says, her voice impossibly gentle; dusk flows river-like from her mouth. There is a world Blake can almost see. “But you can’t guard death without also guarding life, right? I don’t know what I’m looking for, but whatever it is, I imagine you encompass it.”

“Poetic,” Blake responds, and waits further. “I would like the truth, please. Our time is running short.”

There’s no point in playing games with gods. “The truth is stupid,” Yang says bluntly, and the corner of Blake’s mouth tilts again.

“Try me.”

“I’ll make you a deal,” Yang says, and Blake’s eyebrows raise in amusement. Bold, reckless, and absolutely pushing her luck to the furthest corners it can inhabit. “Accept me as yours, and when the time is right, I will tell you the truth.”

“Is the truth that powerful?” Blake says, curious despite herself.

The last candle flutters, throwing shadows from Yang’s eyelashes to her cheek. “I think it is.”

--

“Welcome back, Empress of the Night,” Ruby says upon her return to the Kingdom, giving her an exaggerated bow. “I hope you enjoyed your summon, My Lady of Perpetual Darkness.”

“What the hell was that about?” Weiss asks. “I haven’t even heard you crack a joke for, like, a millennia, and suddenly you’re the court jester?”

“She was amusing,” Blake says, shrugging. “Usually people are so timid and terrified. I felt like having some fun.”

“You?” Weiss says dubiously.

“Shut up, Weiss,” Ruby says. “You mustn’t speak that way to Our Patron Saint, Duchess of Death.”

“Now you’re not even trying.”

“Don’t you both have work to do?” Blake says, ending the interrogation before it can really begin. She’s not sure she’d have the answers for them, anyway.

--

Yang journeys east.

Find me again, Blake had said. The closer you get to my temple, the more I can see of you. She’d brushed aside Yang’s bangs, touched a single finger to her forehead. It felt like a teardrop, or a meteor shower. It felt like digging up a grave, or chiseling into stone. It felt like the last explosion. It felt like the first breath.

You are mine, Blake had said, and something about it had felt far too right.

She crosses from Sanus to Anima, spends days traversing forests and mountains, fending off bandits and monsters. Eyes flashing red and fire licking up her skin. Aura glowing golden before breaking. There is something wrong with the trees, she thinks; there is something wrong with the sky. Like I’m looking at them from the wrong side.

Nobody is there to answer her, and not for the first time, she wonders how she came to be so alone.

--

Blake watches Yang’s power unveil itself from above. Yang is hers, now, and though she can’t make house calls to the world below without a summon, she at least has instant access to her claims. There aren’t many of them, and Yang is different.

It reminds her of the God of Vengeance, almost - how he absorbs power before returning it, strike by vicious strike - but Yang’s is personal, sacrificial. She feels the pain before she can utilize it, and her anger is never cruel, her actions never misplaced. And she doesn’t complain.

Sometimes, Blake wishes she would: she can hear when she’s being talked to, even if she can’t respond. Every prayer, every curse, every devastation, every hope.

She waits for the sound of Yang’s voice, but it never comes.

--

There’s a small shrine in a village called Shion, which is still weeks out from the docks where she can potentially get a ferry to Menagerie, but the locals are kind, and honor her far too greatly for being touched by their ruling god. They direct her to their place of worship deep in the woods, and leave her without looking back. It’s a sacred thing, a bond between a god and their chosen, and law forbids them from watching her ceremony.

Yang pulls the candle from her pouch, lighting it at the foot of the shrine. She kneels down on the stone, worn with the imprints of a thousand prayers, and says, “Blake.”

“I was wondering when I’d hear from you again.” The voice comes almost immediately, as if its owner had been waiting to be beckoned.

It’s still a bit of a shock, though she’s much better prepared for it this time. “Hi,” Yang says, and stops there before she can fuck it up.

“Hi,” Blake says, and seems to be amused against her will. More guarded, less open. Yang can read the warning signs, but she’ll cut them off at the source.

“I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it, getting to her feet. “If I waited too long to contact you, I mean. I’m...not familiar with this area.”

“Don’t worry,” Blake says, lowering her arms. “It’s only been a few weeks. I won’t smite you until at least a month.”

Yang laughs, and unexpectedly to the both of them, Blake goes deadly still. Her body language says Yang’s done something wrong, but her expression says she’s hearing music.

The candle is burning. The moment can turn itself over gently, if Yang knows how to guide it. She keeps her smile on, but makes it quiet. “You know, I didn’t expect the Goddess of Death to have a sense of humor.”

It seems to work. “I like to surprise people,” Blake says, and moves closer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“You never talk to me,” she says, pretending to be in control of something she clearly isn’t. “Why not?”

Only the forest speaks for a moment, branches creaking, leaves rustling. And then: “Do you want me to?” Yang asks.

“It’s...something people tend to do,” Blake says slowly. “But not you.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Yang says.

“It’s not a bother.” The words come out too quickly, tone too reassuring. Blake’s own want is what laces the conversation, rather than Yang’s uncertainty. That’s a new, dangerous line.

Yang takes a careful step forward, her eyes lowered to the ground as if in apology; they raise slowly, trailing over Blake’s form until meeting her gaze. Looking for lines she’s crossed, and should step back over; searching for lights that say go. Instead, she only finds an intense, hungry confusion - I want it without understanding what it is.

“You know,” she murmurs, “these statues - they never do you justice.”

And she lifts a hand to Blake’s cheek, hesitating over her skin - is that Blake’s catch of breath, or is it the wind? - before gently cupping it in her palm. She could lose an arm for this; touching a god without being explicitly asked is the greatest sin a mortal can commit, but Blake only stands there, unmoving, eyes wide and lips parted, the moon sitting in the hollow of her throat.

“Blake,” she whispers, and it can only be a god’s strength keeping her voice steady, “I’m never not thinking of you.”

The candle goes out.

--

Nobody is waiting for her when she returns. This is how gods give each other gifts - by saying, no, I see everything but I didn’t see you.

--

Yang starts talking to her, and changes her routes so that rather than taking the most direct path to Menagerie, she’s able to stop at some of the smaller shrines on the way. There are only two more, and she hasn’t called Blake since Shion. Yang hopes she’ll still come.

“Isn’t it strange,” Yang says, “how much easier it is to think about someone than to talk about them? I think about you differently than I can talk about you. I don’t even know if that makes sense.”

No response; not that she expects one. At this point, she assumes Blake’ll just kill her if she gets too annoying. Maybe a tree will fall on her, or she’ll do something embarrassing like trip over a rock and break her neck. “I can’t remember much about my life. I know there were people I loved, but I can’t see their faces. I must’ve traveled a lot; I don’t like sitting still. I don’t know how old I am, or even when my birthday is.” She’s never admitted this before; never admitted she came to lying on the ground, with only her name left ringing in her skull and a note in her pocket.

“I think you’re beautiful,” she tells the warm night air. “That’s what I was trying to say. Before. Blake, I think you’re beautiful.”

A star shoots across the sky, light trails leaving imprints against the swirling blue-purple-black of the galaxy, but it must be a coincidence.

--

Another shrine, another candle. This one burrowed into the side of a mountain, a dome of a room with a hand-woven rug for kneeling, several long benches behind. The statue sits against the far wall, centered.

“They’re getting better,” Yang says, getting to her feet. “This one, at least, gets your eyes right.”

“Hm,” Blake says, pressing her lips together. She moves to stand next to Yang rather than in front of her, and they both examine the statue together. “I suppose you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

“Were the compliments too much?” Yang asks, impressed with how light her voice sounds. She nudges Blake’s elbow with her own. Oh, she’ll see how much distance she can cross. She’s already walked miles - she’ll swim oceans, too. “You said you wanted me to talk to you.”

“I didn’t say that,” Blake denies unconvincingly, and then pauses. “And in regards to your first question - I didn’t say that, either.”

Yang could tease her - so even gods like being called pretty, huh - or she could be brave, turn to Blake, take her face in both of her hands and lean in--

“Yang,” Blake says, and does step one of that plan by turning to her. “What do you want from me?”

Maybe the idea’s overwhelmed her to the degree that she can no longer see its risks - its potentially horrible, literally life-ending consequences - and that's what drives her to do it. Maybe it’s that Blake is looking at her like a poem; something beautiful, not to be understood by anyone but the artist who made her.

“What would you do if I kissed you?” Yang says, as if it were merely an interesting, hypothetical concept to explore and not the end of the world. “Is that possible, even if you wanted me to?”

This room is warm and close and silent. The clay is cracking where the floor meets the walls. A tunneled-through skylight is the only thing that keeps Blake from swallowing the place in shadows, instead coating them in an amber, dream-like glow. Like if you mixed the two of them together, you’d still be left with light.

“I think,” Blake murmurs, “we’re both going to have to find that out.”

Step two of her plan. Both of her hands cupping Blake’s cheeks. She’s strangely aware of her lifelines - do they mean anything to you, she wants to ask, does my life mean anything to you now and if it doesn’t, will my death - she leans in, their noses brushing, Blake’s breathing as if she needs to, Yang isn’t and she does; teach me about magic, teach me about memory, tell me how I knew you before I knew myself--

Blake kisses her, tired of her caution and hesitancy, lips parting and fists knotting around the fabric of her shirt. Yang expects them to crash together, like comets. She expects them to crumble and collapse under the impact, buried in the ruins of each other and suffocating. She expects them to decay there, reveling in their own destruction.

What she doesn’t expect is sunlight.

Her skin set aflame, Blake’s tongue in her mouth, hands traveling from her face to her lower back and pressing close - somewhere a rule is being written about the gods and desperation - Blake pulls away, gasps, her fingers begging for Yang’s heart.

“This power,” she says, mesmerized, staring at things only she can see, golden gossamer roots running up Yang’s veins. “Where did you get it?”

“I don’t know,” Yang breathes out, and kisses her one last time before the candle burns out. “But I swear I’ve never felt closer to finding out.”

--

Nobody attempts to stop her from barging through God’s door. Weiss and Ruby, Sun and Neptune; they all avert their eyes. I see everything, but I do not see you.

“What is she?” Blake asks, standing before them with her head bowed. “Please, God. I need to know.”

“If you weren’t already sure,” God says, “you wouldn’t be here.”

She hates it when they’re right.

--

Yang hits the docks; situated on the outskirts of a fishing village called Ito, and with constant transport to Menagerie, their shrine to Blake is the largest one yet.

“And this one?” Blake asks, before Yang has even begun to pray.

“How did you do that?” Yang says, staring up at her, startled. “Are we, like, super close now?”

“Shut up,” Blake says, but she’s smiling. She extends a hand, helping Yang to her feet. “Your soul calls me. You barely even have to light the candle, anymore.”

The sound of the ocean knocks on the door; the smell tackles the windows. Above, the seagulls are crying out, angry at all the fish they can’t have. Yang says, “Hi.”

“Hi,” Blake says, and kisses her. Soft and chaste. Something so human and so immortal. “I missed you.”

“I’m your favorite, aren’t I?” Yang teases, her fingers catching Blake’s chin in her hands.

“No,” Blake says, and for the first time, smiles with her teeth. Oh, this is happiness. “I do this with everyone who requests my presence. I’m very popular.”

“I can imagine,” Yang says, brushing a thumb across her bottom lip. “So what else are you the god of?”

“You had a few of them right,” Blake says nonchalantly, settling against Yang’s body. She could be taller, if she wanted to be, but there’s so much beauty to see when looking up. “Night, and all things within it. Darkness, shadows. Death.”

“What else?” Yang says, watching her mouth shape every letter.

“Forgiveness, and justice,” Blake murmurs. Oh, there’s a fine print for this, and she’s violating every word. “Promises,” she continues. “Seduction.”

Hook, line - a heavy wave rattles the walls; oh, the sea, the sea! - Yang shudders against her mouth, salt sinking into her blood. Leaves her bouyant and floating, the earth bubbling up beneath her. Rising and rising and rising.

“Shockingly,” Yang says, letting Blake press kisses into the crook of her neck, “I don’t find that hard to believe.”

--

“God,” Blake finds herself standing before them once again, hands clasped and head bowed. She speaks formally in the presence of God, as is customary of respect. “Please, God. I am supposed to be guiding her, but I fear all I’ve done is lead her astray. I need to know where she came from, and where she is going.”

“Blake,” God says, and touches the top of her head with their hand, “she is close to your temple. Look at her, and tell me what you see.”

--

Menagerie is a busy, populated island, and Blake’s temple is the primary reason for that. Pilgrimages are made from around the world to pray at her shrine and leave offerings at her feet. Protect me from loss, help me navigate my grief, let me fulfill my promise.

Yang is none of those things. And when the keepers of the temple ask the reason for her journey, she says, “I am in love with her.”

“You have been touched,” one says, and bows to her upon entry. “You have as long as the goddess is willing to give you.”

The heavy doors close, but the room shimmers, firelight glittering over golden-accented walls. A large moon is carved into the marble floor, crossing over a sun. Before her is the largest, most intricately carved statue of Blake she’s ever seen, and it looks exactly like her.

Yang kneels.

“You know,” Blake says from behind her, “you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“No,” Yang says. “But it - it’s been a long journey. And I’m only here because of you.”

  Blake’s footsteps echo, her boots stopping at the north point of the sun. “How do you feel?”

It’s enough to make Yang smile. “I know you heard me,” she says pointedly, but her amusement is apparent. “You hear everything I say.”

“I thought I’d give you the chance to tell me yourself.”

For the last time, Yang rises to her feet. Blake’s eyes glitter, mischievous and playful. She looks as she always has, but clearer, somehow; defined and resolute. She carries the truth in the way she extends a hand, in the way she searches for Yang’s mouth. When they kiss, Yang swears she can see another world.

“I’ll tell you something better,” Yang says. “The truth.”

She leans down, bumps their foreheads together. Blake’s arms loop around her neck automatically. Oh, Yang thinks, if I were the god of anything, I’d want it to be habits.

“So what’s the truth?” Blake asks.

“The truth,” Yang says unshakably, “is that it was you. I woke up with no memory and a note, and somehow, I knew I had to find you. The only thing I’ve been searching for is you.”

It’s you, she says. It’s you. You. You.

--

“God,” Blake says, and this time God is ready for her.

“Blake Belladonna,” God says, and inclines their head. “Come. Show me what you have.”

In her hands is a small slip of paper, worn and ripped around the edges. “It is a note,” she says, and unfolds it gingerly. “It is a note, God, in my handwriting.”

“And what does it say?” they ask.

“Find me,” Blake recites, “and I promise I’ll bring you home.”

“Well,” God says whimsically, “you are the Goddess of Promises.”

--

Tears build in the corners of her eyes, shipwrecks gaining water. “Yang,” Blake whispers, and now that she is close, she can see everything. Meteors falling from their showers; the day the sun went out. “Yang. I’m sorry. I’m so, so--”

“Shh,” Yang murmurs, pressing her lips into Blake’s hair. “What are you apologizing for? I found you, and you brought me home.”

--

“Oh, this is exciting,” God says. “I so rarely get to come to Remnant on business.”

“God,” Yang says, and bows her head. The temple doors remain locked; Blake’s hand is clutched tightly in her own. “It’s good to see you.”

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” says God. “You fell in the last war, over five-hundred years ago. Do you remember this?”

“Yes,” she says. “I was trying to protect my sister.”

“And what happens when a god falls?”

“We forget them,” Blake says. “Their power is forfeit; they are erased from our memories, and our world.”

“It is not a law of justice, but a law of reality,” God says. “Or it was, previously. Only you did not forget immediately, Blake Belladonna. I did not know it was possible for two souls to be so intrinsically bound that they leave traces in the other, but you did not forget, just long enough to leave her a message. It took five hundred years for Yang to fall to earth, and when she awoke, she did not forget, either.

“Gods are made, and this means that what we are gods of can change,” they continue. “Blake, you were not previously the Goddess of Death. You became it because you believed that Yang had died, and no god had as strong a connection to loss as you. Your power became a beacon, just as it now will be a beacon for Remembrance.

“And you, Yang Xiao Long,” God says. “Goddess of the Sun, of Loyalty, of Sacrifice. You were many things. And now you are the Goddess of Rebirth.”

[rocorambles]

Perks of the Job

Pairing: Oikawa x Reader

Genre/Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Non-Con/Rape, Bullying, Coercion, Abuse/Violence, Sexual Assault, Degradation

Prompt: “I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now.”

Summary: You realize far too late that you should have read the fine print of your job contract, questioned the golden egg that had fallen in your lap a little more as you stand face to face with the man you thought you had left far behind in your life. 

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this prompt. (Masterlist goes live Sunday, December 6th!) 

Big thank you to @sawamooora for beta-reading this~  

Even by his first year of high school, Oikawa is used to the attention, used to girls smiling and giggling at just a well practiced wink he sends their way. And although no one catches his interest, he thrives on the power he feels, the way he knows he has people so easily wrapped around his fingers with just a few rehearsed lines and a dash of his natural charm. So he’s surprised when he first encounters you. 

Unlike everyone else, you don’t even pause as you pass him in the hallway, don’t even bother to turn for a quick look in his direction.  Unlike like every other female, you keep your face focused forward and continue to class, completely tuning out the gaggle of giggling girls he has surrounding him. And suddenly his interest is peaked as he watches your retreating figure, a sharp gleam in his eyes and a new conquest in sight. 

He uses every trick in the book at first, shooting coy smiles and flirtatious winks your way, cheerfully greeting you each morning at the front gates and walking you right to the doorway of your classroom, sometimes lingering around to exchange small talk if there was time before class started. You’re polite about it, although a bit hesitant, unsure what about you has caught his interest, uncomfortable with the glowering attention you’re receiving from the females around you, but he grits his teeth in frustration when you never reciprocate with anything more than a small smile and superficial words. 

There’s only so long that one can keep a facade, even if it is almost like a second skin and bit by bit, Oikawa’s sheep-like fleece weathers down until snarling fangs and bared teeth are all that remains. You wince as he sharply tugs at your hair, glare as he purposefully knocks the items off your desk onto the floor, and lash out at him to his amusement when he repeatedly closes your locker on you. And although there’s bitterness inside of him that he’s had to resort to such uncouth methods, he can’t help the self satisfied smile when he has all your attention, when your rage filled eyes are locked on him and him alone, when you’re spitting venomous snarls just for him to hear. 

So, he’s quite displeased when third year comes around and suddenly it’s like everyone’s biological clock has suddenly started to rapidly tick. Things are different now that they’ve officially entered adulthood. 

His fangirls are touchier, more clingy, and although he rolls his eyes as they purposefully hike up their skirt and press their bodies against him when they talk, he doesn’t pull away. It wouldn’t be good for his image. And besides, being an adult means having fun doesn’t it? 

So, to the dismay of Iwaizumi and the hoots and hollers of Hanamaki and Matsukawa, he has his fun, sneaking girl after girl into the locker room, the club room, even the equipment room. 

But what infuriates him the most is the way seemingly every male suddenly has their eyes on you, the way your locker is filled to the brim on a daily basis with love notes, the way you’re now always surrounded by a flock of groveling boys all clamoring for your attention, the way he can’t even get close enough to do anything to you anymore, the way you seem to forget he even exists.

And that’s unacceptable. 

He sends his fangirls to do his bidding and although it’s not nearly as satisfying when he’s not the one personally wreaking havoc in your life, when he doesn’t get to see the look of pain and anger in your eyes up close and personal, there’s still a sense of contentment when he sees your tear stained eyes and ruined uniform from afar, the way you seem to shrink in on yourself in shame and embarrassment when you come out of the women’s locker room, the restroom, places only other female students can get to you, where there are no other eyes to protect you. 

But his nails dig into his palms as his fists clench when he sees his fellow male classmates bending over backwards to comfort you, to help you, draping their uniform jackets over your shoulders to hide your disheveled uniform, cooing at your injuries as they gently lead you to the nurse’s office.

And if there’s anything Oikawa hates in the world, it’s losing.

He slams his fist in frustration as he feels you slipping further and further away from him, as he loses against Ushijima, as he loses against Kageyama, as he loses any chance of seeing his dreams of Nationals come true, as he loses in everything that ever mattered to him.

Maybe that’s why he drinks far more than he should at the third year house party, an early graduation party of sorts, a last hurrah before all of you go your separate ways. Maybe that’s why when he sees you, his eyes narrow in determination as he chugs the rest of his drink, despite Iwaizumi’s growl at him to slow down his intake. Maybe that’s why he seeks you out like a bloodhound looking for prey that it’s caught wind of. 

And all he can think of as he corners you in an abandoned section of the house, forcing your body against the wall, feeling you helplessly push against him, watching fear and confusion fill your eyes, is that he needs a win - just one win. 

But of course life has different plans for him and just as he’s shoved his legs between your thighs, just as one of his hands has slipped underneath your shirt to roughly knead one of your breasts, just as he’s crushed his lips against yours in something far too brutal to be considered a kiss, he’s being torn away from you. It’s only Iwaizumi’s familiar voice and face that keeps the ace from getting punched in the face as he snarls at Oikawa to get the fuck away from you and sober up. And all Oikawa sees is red when he briefly glances back once more before turning the corner, only to see his own best friend kindly hovering next to you, gently taking care of you and fixing your clothes for you, an uncharacteristic softness in green eyes as he looks at you. 

Betrayal like he’s never felt before suffocates him as he watches the two of you tentatively begin to dance around each other in an awkward yet endearing courtship. He watches as he loses his best friend, watches as he loses the only woman who’s ever caught his interest, watches as the two of you walk off into your fairytale sunset together, hand in hand, never even glancing back at him as you both go off on your merry way together. 

He’s not proud of the cruel smile that naturally stretches across his face when he hears that the two of you have broken up years later, a brief comment that Hanamaki slips into one of their happy hour catch-ups as the ex-Seijoh third years share a bottle (maybe a few bottles) of sake. But he fakes a look of concern and consolement, trying to conceal his curiosity as he lightly questions Iwaizumi about the break-up, airily asking what the reason was. 

And he secretly grins as he excuses himself to the restroom when he thinks about the depressed slump of the ex-ace’s shoulders, the downcast look on his face. He cherishes his dear friend, but it’s nice to see someone suffer the same way he had, to share the pain of loss, to share the agony of losing you specifically.  

But maybe lost things are meant to be found, he thinks, as he scans the resume handed to him when he enters his office the next morning, chocolate brown eyes gleaming when they see the familiar name neatly typed on the top of the page.  

You're desperate. 

After Iwaizumi and you had broken up, you had insisted on moving out and living on your own. Never mind the fact that Iwaizumi was paying for the majority of your old rent. Never mind the fact that you don't make nearly enough income to survive on your own. You had just wanted a clean break from the handsome man who had been such a large integral part of your life and despite the small part of you that pleaded to give this relationship another chance, to take him up on his offer to stay with him until you're in a better place to support yourself, you packed your bags and left. 

And now here you are, living in an awful part of town, sirens blaring every few minutes, struggling to pay rent for the old decrepit studio that's barely big enough to fit even just your modestly sized bed. But you determinedly make do, putting on your one nice interview outfit and applying your makeup as best as you can despite the cracked bathroom mirror and flickering lights, before taking a deep breath and exiting your apartment. 

You're not even sure how you landed an interview at such a prestigious company. Although being a secretary for one of their higher ups doesn't exactly sound like your dream job, when you saw what the salary range was, you leapt at the opportunity. Screw your pride. If faking a smile and acting like a glorified maid for a disgusting old man meant you were finally able to   afford a decent quality life? So be it. 

Nerves eat at you and your heart pounds as you anxiously wait for the interview to begin, but you're shocked when an employee steps inside the room only to distractedly ask you generic questions, questions you're sure just about anyone could answer, not even pretending to pay attention as he fiddles with his phone in front of you. You can’t help but wonder if this is a good or bad sign. Were you so unqualified that you were just a waste of time? Why even bother bringing you in for an interview if they had intended to turn you away right from the start?

But to your surprise when the quick and simple questioning is done, the interviewer just stands up with a smile and nonchalantly tells you that they'd be in touch soon. And true to his words, your cell phone rings not even a few hours later that same day and you gape as they extend an offer to you with a salary even higher than you had ever imagined, which you eagerly accept, not a trace of doubt or hesitation in your mind. 

You meekly follow the friendly receptionist who leads you through the intimidatingly large office, the smell of coffee and the sounds of keyboards clacking and voices chattering swirling around you as you’re led further and further until you’re finally facing a solitary office, far from the bustling crowd of the main floor, reeking of status and power. And you force a tight smile on your face as you’re left alone, taking a deep breath before timidly knocking and opening the door when a voice beckons you in. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you and if you were jittery before at the prospect of a new job and a new boss, then you’re positively shaking now, trembling like a leaf in the wind when you see a face you hoped you would never see ever again, a face that still haunts you to this day, that brings back painful memories of a tormented childhood. And you wonder if you should quit right here, right now, cursing yourself for not asking more questions about exactly who your employer was, who you’d be working side by side with as their executive assistant. 

You’re so lost in your panicked thoughts that you don’t register the tall figure approaching you, head whipping when your name is called in that lilted sing song voice of his and you shudder as familiar brown eyes gaze down at you. 

“Oikawa…”

He smiles at your shivering figure and your frenzied wide eyes when you register exactly who you’re now working for. Pride soaring in his chest when he sees the impact he still has, the effect he still has on you, even after all these years. And he can’t help but circle around your frozen figure, admiring how you’ve grown and matured since he’d last seen you, purring at the way you instinctively lower your head in unconscious submission, not daring to meet his eyes as he closes his office door, flinching at the sound of the lock clicking in place. 

It just wouldn’t do for anyone to interrupt such a special reunion.  

You’re so predictable, it’s almost laughable. Oikawa has to fight the urge to roll his eyes as he leans back against the closed door, blocking your one escape route out of this hell hole you’ve gotten yourself trapped in. It’s amusing listening to you stutter out some feeble attempt at a resignation, listening to you try to convince yourself and him that this must be a mistake, that surely you’re someone else’s secretary, not his, never his. And as cute as it is watching denial and pure terror dance across your face, he tires of your endless blathering and he maliciously grins at how quick you are to snap to attention and silence yourself when he barks at you to shut up. 

But what he isn’t expecting is the sudden fire in your eyes, the resolved steeliness in your demeanor as you glare at him head on and maybe it’s a good thing that you’d spent so much time with Iwaizumi because this is going to be so much more fun than he could have possibly imagined. 

The wolf inside of him gnashes his teeth and howls in amusement as you furiously give him a piece of your mind, rebuke him for how horrible and awful he was throughout highschool, haughtily tell him that this is the real world now and that you’re not going to let him just walk all over you, let him do whatever he wants. In fact, you’re leaving right now. You don’t need him or this stupid job. 

And his grin sharpens as you hold your head up high while you make your way towards him and the door, not even hesitating as you move to shove him aside. But then he pounces and you can’t even scream as you’re suddenly shoved down, gasping as you painfully hit the ground. 

He has to give you some credit though. Clearly dating an athletic trainer has done you some good and he winces just a bit as you thrust your knee into his abdomen, surprised by the force behind it. But the pain only fuels him more, the sharp pang grounding him, helping him concentrate as he pries apart your legs, his knees achingly pressing down into the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs as he puts all his weight on top of you, chuckling when you wail at how his kneecaps painfully pin you down. 

And he almost coos proudly at you as you try to sit up, as you try to support your upper body off the ground with your forearms and hands, as you try to find some leverage to get yourself out of your undesirable position. But all it takes is him digging his knee even further into your bruised leg and with a yelp you fall back down, snarling at him with pretty tears welling in the corner of your eyes as he leans forward, pinning you fully with his arms now trapping your wrists on the floor on either side of your head.

“Don’t be like this, cutie. You’re the one who accepted the job. Not my fault you were too dumb to even look into it carefully. But I guess a dumb bitch is always a dumb bitch.”

He smirks at the way his cruel words have you twisting and writhing underneath him with renewed fervor, but like an animal sensing that it’s nearing its end, you surprise him with a last vehement action as you spit in his face when your futile struggle falls flat. And as the thick glob slides down his face, his facade cracks and a sharp cracking sound pierces through the air before you’re suddenly seeing stars as heat rushes through your face from the impact of his palm. 

“Listen to me. You’re going to shut the fuck up and behave. You’re going to stay as my secretary. You’re going to do every fucking thing I tell you to do. You know why? Because I own you. I  could ruin your entire life with a single phone call - with the snap of my fingers. Your entire career, over, with just a single email. Good luck trying to afford even your shitty little apartment when you’re blacklisted from every corporation in this city.”

Oikawa hums in satisfaction when you finally still, fear and uncertainty twirling in your eyes as your bottom lip begins to tremble, liquid pooling in your tear ducts as you shakily stare at him. But he outright laughs in your face when you latch onto your one last hope. 

“Hajime! I’ll tell Haji-”

You break off into a squeal when sharp teeth bury into the crook of your neck, tears streaming down your face as Oikawa leaves a mark that will last for at least a few days and you cringe at the feeling of his warm wet tongue tasting you, staining you. 

“Iwa-chan? I wonder what he’d do if he knew you were with me right now. Would he trust his longtime childhood friend, his best friend who he still talks to and hangs out with almost everyday, especially now that you’ve left him all alone? Or would he trust the woman who broke his heart, who led him on for so many years, only to tell him you just “weren’t feeling it” anymore when he was about to propose?” 

He lets out a derisive snort at the hurt in your eyes, the guilt he can practically see smothering you at his words. 

“It’s okay, cutie. Of course you weren’t feeling it with Iwa-chan. You were just waiting for me all this time, right? So don’t worry. Relax. Let me make you feel good and make up for all the lost time, okay?”

And he beams when you don’t even resist in the slightest as he removes your clothing, as he hungrily explores every inch of you, calloused fingertips, lips, teeth, and tongue tracing every bit of you, tasting and feeling everything that’s been out of reach for so long. 

A victorious grin spreads across his face at the slight moan you try to quickly muffle as he drags a wet trail to your nipples, tongue lightly flicking the hardening bud before his lips swoop in and harshly suck. He groans as your hips instinctively buck when his hand begins to toy with your other nipple and he grinds his straining cock against you. 

But he lets out an irritated tsk as your hands feebly push at him, as your quivering voice begs him to stop, quickly silencing you with a rough twist of the nipple between his fingers and a feral warning look as he slides down his pants and boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring out. 

And he briefly relishes the way your watery eyes are suddenly captivated by the sight of his impressive length. A sick sense of pride bubbles in his chest at the way you nervously gulp when he lines himself up with your entrance. You barely even have time to blink before he’s brutally slamming himself to the hilt inside of you with one rough thrust. 

He hisses at how tight and warm you are, grits his teeth at the feeling of your nails clawing at his back and arms as he slams himself even deeper. Your pathetic cries make him even harder as you desperately scramble to accommodate his size. 

He drowns himself in the intoxicating feeling of your walls clamping down on him, the sound of your strangled voice screaming his name mixing with the clapping sound of skin meeting skin as he pistons in and out of you relentlessly, starting a brutal pace right from the start, ignoring the terror and hurt laced in your screams as he hones in on your sweet voice repeating his name over and over again, hones in on the fact that every ounce of your attention is on him, that he’s all you can think of and feel in the moment and he wishes this moment could last forever. 

But that’s impossible and he can feel his end approaching, his rhythm becoming erratic, his body tensing, and with a few more slams of his hips against yours, he’s spilling deep inside of you, moaning as he makes a mess of your insides, careful not to let even a single drop escape as he pulls out and quickly slips your panties back on you, trapping his essence inside of you. 

You’re still limp on the floor as he stands up, casually stretching his arms above his head with a yawn before tucking himself back into his pants, brushing himself off as he makes his way to his desk. And he hums as he turns on his computer, not even glancing at the pathetic sight you make, sprawled out, naked aside from the pair of panties he had generously helped you with, your face a mess of dried tears and saliva, your hair a tousled mess. 

But you flinch when he finally speaks as you muster the will to slowly dress yourself, the will to ignore the pounding ache and dripping mess between your legs, his carefree tone tearing your self-esteem to shreds as he just continues typing emails all the while. 

“Hurry up and get to work. That’s what you’re getting paid for after all. You can consider what just happened a perk of the job and I’ll be sure to give you a lot of extra bonuses while you’re with me. Looking forward to working together.” 

Bile rises in your throat at his flippant words and the flirtatious wink he sends your way. For a second you hesitate, staring longingly at the locked door. But even with your back turned to him, you can still feel his piercing gaze boring holes into your soul. You know deep down in your gut that his threat isn’t just empty words, that as hard as life is now, it would be complete and utter hell the moment you stepped out of his office without his permission. You know that in the end, you’d be left with no other option than to come crawling back to him, groveling for mercy when your bank account is running on less than empty, when you’re forced out onto the streets. 

So, as humiliating as it is, you limp over to the smaller desk situated in the corner of the office, every step a crushing blow to your self worth and pride, grimacing as you begin to feel something thick and sticky threaten to leak from between your thighs. And you obediently sit, blinking back the tears as you turn on your own company-issued laptop, shifting uncomfortably as your aching body comes in contact with the solid surface of your chair, raising the ringing phone to your ear. 

“This is Oikawa Tooru’s office. How may I help you?” 

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merthur soulmate AU where they can always find each other:

Leon fulfils his self-appointed “older brother” role by helping them get away with it, and Morgana decides the son of her new guardian wasn’t so bad after all, if he came with such a great friend.

Part 2   Part 3 Part 4

This was requested a little while ago, also Homophobia doesn’t exist in this world and maybe that’s unrealistic but I literally don’t care, let me have this.

Everyone has a soulmate. It’s a fact of life.

No one really knows quite how it works, only that it’s something magical, and has been around since before recorded history.

Everyone can find their soulmate. They feel a tug in their heart, that always pulls them in the right direction, no matter what. No matter what obstacles or distance separates them, they may always be united, they may always find their way home.

Soulmate bonds were the one piece of magic that King Uther left untouched when he started his purge, for he was bonded to Arthur’s mother, and despite his cruelty, he could never find it in himself to deprive others of such a feeling. 

(Besides, they were so ancient and global, there’s nothing he could’ve done to destroy them; easier to save his pride and leave them be.)

Very rarely, only a few times in a century, a pairing will appear whose bond is so strong, the compass in their hearts works in a slightly different manner.

King Uther’s son, Prince Arthur, and heir to the throne of Camelot, was one half of such a special pairing.

~

The first time the Prince disappeared, he was five, and meant to be taking a nap.

This meant that his nannies hadn’t even noticed he was gone before he reappeared in his bed, and no one in the castle knew of his little adventure.

To say Hunith was surprised by the appearance of a very young, very blond child in her kitchen was an understatement. 

The last thing she was expecting to see when she turned around from laying her three year old down for a nap, was a noble-looking boy, who definitely hadn’t been there moments before.

After she recovers from her shock, she glances over at the front door (still locked) before looking back at the child with concern. She took a step towards him, and crouched down before quietly speaking:

“Hi there sweetie, how did you get in here?”

Child!Arthur ignores her, instead taking a wobbly step towards Toddler!Merlin, and without looking away from him, asks:

“Who’s that?”

Hunith is taken aback at that, and looks more closely at the child. He was clearly in sleep clothes, but they were made from expensive fabrics, and he looked chubby and happy and healthy, not like most young children around these parts.

She steps in front of Arthur again to try and catch his eye:

“Why don’t you tell me your name, and we’ll try to find your mum?”

Arthur looks at her only briefly as he pouts, before side-stepping again and regaining his line of sight to the dark haired toddler (still sleeping):

“Don’t have a mum. And dad’s busy. I wanted to find my person.”

Hunith tilts her head at that, but before she can ask what he means, Arthur finally looks at her properly, and begins speaking again:

“Are you my person? Or is it him? Nanny Marge says everyone has a person, and we can always find them.” he says it with confidence, and a self satisfied nod.

Hunith blinks, she knows all about soulmates, everyone does, but that still didn’t explain how the child had just appeared:

“Well, my name’s Hunith, and that’s my son, Merlin. Where are you from?”

Arthur yawns and stumbles towards Merlin, wrapped in blankets and laid in the corner. Hunith goes to grab him (Merlin was a fussy toddler, and it took forever to get him to sleep and she really didn’t want him to be woken up again.) but relaxes as Arthur sits cross-legged about a foot away from him, not ripping his gaze away for a moment.

He looks back up at Hunith sleepily, obviously starting to feel the effects of not napping:

“Mer-lin. I like that name. Like the birdy. I’m Prince Arthur of Camelot, son of King Uther.” He says the last part like it’s been rehearsed (it has) and Hunith stifles a gasp as she finally realises what’s happened.

Her old love, before he left, had told her of the rare pairings that appeared occasionally. The soulmates whose bond is so strong, they simply have to wish to be in the others presence, and they will appear there.

Truth be told, Hunith thought it was just a story. Soulmates are fairytale enough, but being able to appear at their side whenever you so wished? That was the stuff of love-stories and legend. Yet here stood a child, who claimed to be a Prince from another kingdom, who should be safely locked away in a castle several days journey from here. And all he seemed interested in, was Merlin.

Hunith wasn’t really sure what to do with this revelation. Not that she wasn’t glad her son had a soulmate, but her son’s soulmate was heir to a throne that would order a pyre for Merlin, even as a child. Merlin was floating spoons and lighting candles and knocking over cups before he could even crawl. Camelot was no place for him, at least not right now.

What if he accidentally did magic in front of the Prince? Would Arthur be scared, would he hate his own soulmate? Or would he not yet understand and tell someone accidentally? Would the King order his own son’s soulmate killed, if he found out?

Hunith shook the questions from her mind for now. Merlin was asleep, and she needed to figure out how to persuade Arthur that he needed to go back home:

“Arthur, that’s a lovely name. I know you want to find your person Arthur, but I think it might be best if you go home, before someone starts worrying, don’t you?”

Little Arthur yawns again, but pouts:

“I don’t want to go back. It’s so boring there, no one except Leon lets me play anything, and Leon’s busy.”

Hunith holds in a sigh, she can imagine life is difficult for an heir to the throne, especially with a father like Uther. She crouches down to his level again:

“I know sweetie, but you don’t want anyone worrying, do you?”

Arthur waits a moment before shaking his head forlornly. Hunith hopes she’s persuaded him, the only way he would go back is if he wanted to, she couldn’t force him. And she really didn’t want to have to journey back to Camelot on foot, and have to explain to the King why she had his son:

“No. I like Nanny Marge, and dad is always mean to her when she loses me.” Hunith frowns at that, but before she can say anything, Arthur stands on wobbly legs, and looks at her with determination:

“Ok. Bye-bye-”

He looks to Merlin again, and whispers his next few words, like he didn’t want to wake him:

“Bye Merlin. I promise I’ll come back-”

He looks back to Hunith again:

“Please can I come back? Leon says I should ask permission before going to someone’s home, so can I please please come back?”

Hunith worries her lip with her teeth at that, they were soulmates, she couldn’t exactly say no. But she also didn’t want to encourage the little prince to just disappear whenever he was bored:

“I... of course, Arthur, you’re more than welcome. But not too often, and not for too long, OK?” she tilts her head in question, and smiles when Arthur gives a decisive nod. 

She holds in a smile as the Little Prince (what she had affectionately been referring to him as in her head) scrunched his face in concentration, closing his eyes. After a few seconds, he disappears with a pop and a few sparks, and she lets out a breath of relief, hoping that he had returned safely.

She stands still for a moment and blinks, seemingly trying to process all that had happened. She hums thoughtfully, before looking lovingly towards her son, and muttering to herself:

“I have a feeling that your future just got a lot more complicated, my love.”

~

For the next year, Arthur would pop in and out of Hunith’s house once a month or so. He only ever came when he was meant to be having a nap (the only time he was really unsupervised during the day).

Luckily, it would appear, that he and Merlin shared nap times; Merlin can’t accidentally expose his magic to the Little Prince if he was asleep every time he appeared.

Over the visits, Hunith learnt as much about Arthur as she could. He knew Gaius, which she was definitely relieved at (and sent a letter to him explaining everything the day she found out they knew each other). Someone in the castle knowing where Arthur had disappeared off to, if anyone ever noticed, would help.

She also found out who Leon was, the son of a noble, an aspiring knight-to-be, around twelve years old to Arthur’s six (both he and Merlin had birthdays at some point between visits), and that he seemed to be the only person around who allowed Arthur to have a little fun every once in a while.

After a little coaxing, she found that Arthur didn’t really know anything about his mother, only what Leon could remember, because Uther refused to speak of her (she thought that was a little heartbreaking, but hid it well).

Arthur kept his word, and never stayed for longer than ten minutes, but Hunith worried; she knew she wouldn’t be able to hold Arthur off for very long. He had visited around thirteen times, and Merlin had been asleep for every one of them. 

Arthur would want to wake him up eventually, to actually talk to his soulmate, and who knows what Merlin would do.

~

Eventually, a few months before Merlin’s fifth birthday, Hunith sat him down and told him what had been happening. That he and his soulmate were very special, and that Arthur had been visiting whilst he was asleep.

To say that Merlin was excited was a vast understatement, and Hunith had to quell her panic when he asked if he could visit Arthur where he was:

“No Merlin, I’m sorry, you have to stay here, remember?-”

She frowns sorrowfully at Merlin’s pout and teary eyes, before schooling her face into a smile and continuing:

“But I promise, next time he visits, I’ll wake you up and you can play together, does that sound fun?-”

She chuckles at his excited nod:

“But only if you don’t use your gift sweetheart, Arthur might not be as good at keeping secrets as you or I am, so we’ll have to wait until he’s older, do you understand?” she whispers that, hoping that it would be easier to convince him if he thought of it as a fun game, instead of a life threatening secret.

Merlin thinks for a minute before nodding:

“Yes mama. No magic until he’s older.”

Hunith pats him on the head, taking a deep breath and preparing herself for Merlin to repeatedly ask her how long until Arthur visited.

~

So that’s how it goes for several years, Arthur visiting Ealdor when no one was paying attention, he and Merlin playing quietly, with no magic, for a while, before Arthur popped back home.

Hunith was grateful for the current simplicity, but she knew it couldn’t last. Merlin had been asking more and more if he could visit Arthur, and it was only a matter of time before he snuck off without telling her.

That, and the magic problem.

Arthur had spoken of his lessons, how according to everyone at home, magic was evil. Merlin always looked so sad at that, and Hunith was grateful for the fact that Arthur didn’t sound so sure. But she also knew that it was only a matter of time before Arthur was convinced by his father’s determined hatred, and she didn’t want to see the heartbreak on Merlin’s face.

The first time The Little Prince spoke of an execution, he was eight, and Merlin had just had his seventh birthday. Merlin cried as Arthur described it, and Hunith had to stop the anger at Arthur growing in her: it wasn’t his fault, and he didn’t exactly sound happy about it at all.

If anything, he seemed almost as upset as Merlin and when Arthur had noticed Merlin’s tears, he stopped talking immediately and bit his lip, looking to Hunith worriedly.

Hunith clenched her jaw before wrapping an arm around each of the children, and speaking to Arthur quietly as Merlin still sniffled:

“Do you think you can keep a secret, Arthur? A really big one, from everyone? Even Leon and your dad?”

He nodded vigorously, and Hunith gives him a weak smile before looking to Merlin, who stared back at her with watery eyes:

“Go on then Merlin, I think he’s old enough to know, don’t you?”

Merlin nodded this time, a little more hesitantly than Arthur, but he looks to his soulmate anyway.

Arthur stared back with wide, worried eyes, and gasped as Merlin all but whispered:

“I was born with magic. I am magic.”

Arthur looks scared for a split second, before he shuffles close to Merlin and taking his pudgy hand in his own. He thinks for a second, before looking at Hunith quickly, and then Merlin. He gives a firm nod as he says:

“I don’t care, and I promise not to tell anyone. If you have magic then it can’t be evil, and when I’m King, I’ll make sure everyone else knows that as well.”

Hunith lets out a sigh of relief, feeling like a weight has been lifted off her shoulders as Arthur’s short arms pull the three of them into a tight hug.

~

The first time Merlin disappears, is almost a year later. Arthur was nine, and Merlin was only a few days away from being eight.

During Arthur’s last visit, he had told them of a new addition to the castle, a sad, dark haired girl called Morgana, a year older than him.

He explained that something had happened to her parents, and his father had taken her in.

Merlin seemed concerned at that, and Hunith had a feeling that it would only be a matter of time before her son decided he wanted to help her (the boy was dangerously empathetic, he teared up at even the thought of other people suffering).

When she found the scrawled note on the table (Arthur had begun sneaking books with him, and he and Hunith would sit with Merlin, teaching him to read and write as best they could) with backwards letters and misspelt words, she almost panicked.

But she sat herself down and took a deep breath, knowing that Arthur had managed to keep the secret so far, and that Merlin could just reappear if he found himself in danger.

That didn’t stop her from scolding a sheepish Merlin when he returned half an hour later.

~

Arthur and Merlin had organised it on their previous visit. Arthur would make sure that he was locked safely in his room at a specific time, and Merlin could come to him for a change. Then Arthur could go get Morgana (and maybe Leon) so he could meet them. 

Morgana had only been there for a month or so, and she had yet to warm up to Arthur. She was quiet, but had a sharp tongue when she chose to speak, not that that had put Arthur off quite yet. 

He was still determined that they would be friends, and Merlin was great! So what better way to get Morgana to like him, than to introduce her to Merlin?

Merlin was overjoyed when he appeared in Arthur’s room, the bedchamber being larger that the footprint of his entire house back in Ealdor. The bed itself was what he found most impressive, it was so huge and soft! And there were so many blankets and pillows! Merlin quietly thought to himself that he should come here more often.

Arthur was nervous. Excited, but nervous. They’d known each other for years now, but this was the first time that Merlin was actually seeing his home. What if he didn’t like it? What if he didn’t want to be soulmates anymore, because he preferred his own home?

(”Although-” The Little Prince started to think, “if Merlin decided he wanted to stay in Ealdor, I think I would just stay with him. ‘Gana can do all my boring King stuff here, and I can go be a farmer with Merlin.”)

Those nerves disappeared the moment he saw the grin on Merlin’s face. Arthur showed Merlin where to hide, just in case, whilst he went to fetch Morgana. He had already told her he had a surprise, so it shouldn’t take too long to persuade her to follow him.

Arthur found her in a flower garden hidden round the back of the castle, she gave in and allowed him to drag her by the hand to his chambers with only minimal grumbling. She did however glare as Arthur pressed a hand over her mouth when she went to question why they were hiding from everyone who passed them in the corridors.

Eventually they were stood outside Arthur’s chambers, but before they enter, Arthur turns to Morgana and whispers conspiratorially:

“This is a secret so you have to promise not to tell anyone, kay? Not even Leon or my dad.”

Before Morgana could reply, she gasps, looking over Arthur’s shoulder with wide eyes.

Arthur turns and bites his lip as he sees Leon (now 15, and well into his initial Knight training) leaning against the wall casually, arms folded on his chest, and an eyebrow raised:

“What is it that no one is meant to be telling me, My Lord?”

Morgana stands in silence, hands folded in front of her, trying to appear as casual as possible as Arthur stutters:

“Oh... err... nothing Leon. I just wanted.... I wanted to show ‘Gana what I learnt on the piano this morning!” He hears Morgana huff behind him, she hated when Arthur called her that, and had said as much to him, but he didn’t seem to care.

Leon raises his eyebrow even further as he begins walking towards the two children:

“Is that so? Well why is that such a big secret? Don’t you want to show me too?”

As Leon stops in front of Arthur, towering over the boy, he puts his serious “I’m-potentially-about-to-tell-you-off-if-you-don’t-start-telling-the-truth” face:

“I... uhh... wanted it to be a secret! Until I get better! Then I can show you and dad!”

Morgana struggles not to mutter complaints at his terrible lying as Leon sighs:

“Arthur, what have we said about lying? It makes communication hard, and makes it difficult for people to trust you, and will only lead to problems later on. Would you like to try again?”

Arthur looks to the floor as he shuffles again, and Morgana feels just a little sorry for him. Not that she would say that.

Leon sighs once more and crouches to his level, forcing Arthur to meet his eyes. He gives the young prince a small smile as he speaks:

“If you don’t want to tell me Arthur, that’s fine. “It’s a secret for me and Morgana” is a perfectly acceptable answer. But lying isn’t. If you promise me that you aren’t doing anything naughty, then I’ll trust you, but I would feel better if another adult did know about it.”

Arthur looks up at him at that, surprised. His father would never accept Arthur keeping secrets from him. He replies quietly:

“It’s a secret for me and Morgana... and an adult does know about it... sort of. And it isn’t bad, I promise! Buuuuut-”

Arthur fiddles with his hands as he looks to his door briefly, before looking back at Leon:

“-if you promise to keep it a secret too, then you can see!-”

Arthur pulls his face into a scowl before continuing:

“-but ONLY if you promise!”

Leon hums exaggeratedly, and rubs his chin:

“Well... I promise to keep it a secret IF it isn’t naughty, or hurting anyone. How does that sound?”

Arthur’s face breaks into a grin and he nods, before opening his door and stepping inside. He quickly waves the others in and shuts and locks the door behind them, taking their hands in his own:

“You can come out now Merls, I’ve bought them!”

Leon and Morgana were astonished when a skinny, semi-grubby, obviously peasant-boy, came crawling out from under Arthur’s bed, and had to hold in gasps.

Merlin stands awkwardly as Arthur grins at him, and waves nervously to the new-comers:

“Hi... I’m Merlin. Me and Arthur are-”

Before he can finish, Arthur excitedly interrupts him:

“He’s my soulmate!”

The room is silent for a while, Merlin getting more nervous by the second, Arthur practically bouncing off the walls with excitement (and being oblivious to the awkwardness), Morgana being marginally surprised but taking it in her stride, and Leon... well... Leon was absolutely freaking out. But you wouldn’t know that from looking at him.

After only about a minute (but it feels like forever for Merlin), Leon stutters some words out:

“Arthur where did you.... why... where did you find this kid??”

Arthur looks to him in confusion as he stops jumping up and down:

“I told you. He’s my soulmate.-”

He puffs up his chest and puts his hand on his hips, looking extremely proud of himself as he continues:

“-I found him all on my own. I’ve been visiting him forever, but I wanted him to come here for once, so he could meet ‘Gana.”

Morgana breaks out her stupor at that, and looks at Arthur incredulously before looking back at Merlin:

“Hi, Merlin.” with a small smile, which Merlin returns.

Leon takes in a deep breath, wondering how the hell he was supposed to deal with this. The Prince had... kidnapped a commoner? Without anyone in the castle noticing?? What??? Nothing in his lessons trained him for this.

He shakes off his confusion and finally looks away from Merlin, and to Arthur:

“Wait... what do you mean you’ve been visiting him? When have you been going? And where?”

Arthur swayed on the spot, trying to look innocent:

“At the beginning I went when I was supposed to be napping. Then I would go when I was meant to be doing self-study. I only go once or month or so, and not for very long. Merlin’s mum is always worried about someone missing me.”

Leon takes another deep breath:

“Arthur... how did you sneak out without anyone noticing? And how did you get Merlin in?”

As much as Leon wanted to solve the problem of “there is a random commoner child in the prince’s room” thing, he was also greatly disturbed by the fact that two children, who hadn’t even hit double digits yet, had been sneaking in and out of what was meant to be a heavily fortified, guarded, castle, for years.

Arthur seems to have a realisation at Leon’s questions:

“OH! Like this!”

With that, he runs out the room, and Leon goes to follow him, but the prince manages to shut the door just before he got there.

Morgana is looking on all of this with mild confusion and shock, not really understanding what was going on, but happy to wait quietly and see what would happen.

Just as Leon goes to open the door, he hears a pop, followed by a voice from behind him:

“See!” Leon freezes and he hears Morgana gasp.

The teen turns around slowly, to see a grinning Arthur stood next to a cheerful looking Merlin:

“Uhh... Arthur, how did you do that?-”

Leon begins panicking, the only thing running through his head is “sorcery!” and whilst he would like to believe that Uther would never harm his own son, with the way he was going with the purge... there was no guarantee.

He rushes forward and grips Arthur’s shoulders:

“I need you to tell me how you did that, right now Arthur, it’s important.”

Arthur frowns as he replies:

“I told you. He’s my soulmate. I just have to want to be with him, and I can be. Merlin’s mum says it’s super rare, and that makes us special.” Morgana once again gasps at that before smiling, and speaking for the first time since she said hello to Merlin:

“I heard about that! Two of the nobles in my old home could do it. It IS rare, but sometimes soulmates can blink and be next to each other, if they wanted that!”

Arthur and Merlin nod enthusiastically at that, and Leon sags with relief, now that his mind and heart weren’t racing so much, he did remember briefly reading something about that during his studies. And if all of this was just soulmate magic... then they should be safe.

Though by the looks of the boy... probably still best not tell Uther about it. He doubts the King would be pleased about his son being bonded with a peasant.

“Ok... ok.-”

Leon turns his attention to Merlin:

“-You said your name was Merlin? Does someone know that you’re here?”

Merlin nods as he replies:

“I left a note for my mum. But I can’t be too long though, or she’ll worry.”

Leon looks surprised at that:

“You can read and write?”

“I taught him!” comes proudly from Arthur. 

Leon nods again and re-locks the door behind him, before gesturing at everyone to sit on the soft rug together.

After establishing that Merlin had only arrived just before Arthur went to fetch Morgana, Leon says that they can sit and talk for another 15 minutes or so before Merlin had to go home.

Arthur pouted at that, but a look from Leon stopped him before he actually complained. Morgana and Leon spent the time asking questions about Merlin: where he was from, and how old he was, and about his family.

Merlin was shy at first, but Arthur had been talking about Leon forever, and Morgana seemed nice, even if she did look a bit sad sometimes.

After their time was up, everyone gave Merlin a quick hug, and Arthur promised he’d try to pop over at some point next week (Leon definitely had to stop the momentary panic at that).

Merlin disappeared with a pop, and Arthur made Morgana and Leon promise not to tell once more. Once they promised, they each wondered off Morgana to an afternoon lesson, Leon to s training session, both deep in thought.

Arthur smiled to himself. He didn’t like keeping things from Leon, because he was the only one around who was any fun, and Morgana had definitely seemed happier. So his plan succeeded!

~

It continued like that for some time. Arthur was the one who went to Merlin’s most often, but occasionally Merlin would go to him.

Morgana slowly started cheering up, recovering from her grief, and the three of them (almost always overseen by an always-worrying Leon) loved spending time together, and playing in the safety of Arthur’s chambers.

Thankfully, Uther never questioned it, happy that his son and his new ward seemed to be getting along finally.

The first time Merlin woke crying from a nightmare that was filled with smoke and fire, he was twelve.

He appeared in Arthur’s room within seconds, wanting nothing but the comfort of having his soulmate next to him, and Arthur woke to the quiet sniffling of a distraught Merlin perched on the end of his bed. 

Before he’s even fully awake, he has him wrapped in a hug, and is stroking his hair in an effort to calm him.

There may not be guards stationed outside his rooms during the day, but there were at night, and would be until he turned 18 (still four and a half years away), so they needed to be quiet.

They fall asleep curled up next to each other, clutching hands, and Merlin sleeps through the rest of the night without a problem. (They both wake with a start as a servant knocks on the door the next morning, and after the quickest hug they’ve ever shared, Merlin pops away, back to his own bed.)

That begins to happen more and more often, and after a couple weeks, Merlin is sleeping in Arthur’s bed most nights. 

He isn’t quite sure if he sleeps so much better because the bed is worth more than his entire village (it’s so comfy!), or if his magic is more relaxed with Arthur by his side, but either way, the nightmares stop almost entirely.

Hunith realises fairly quickly what’s going on, and does worry briefly if going to the place his nightmares took place in was the best, but Merlin seemed happier, and less tired, and once he promised to always be back before the servants came into Arthur’s room, she was a little more ok with it.

(She also made Merlin and Arthur swear to tell Leon, just in case. She hasn’t met Leon of course, but the boys talk about him and Morgana constantly, and she was grateful that the boys had someone other than Gaius (who hadn’t actually met Merlin yet) to look out for them. At this rate, Leon wouldn’t be surprised if all of this caused him to have a heart attack before he was even officially knighted. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.)

Once Arthur finally persuades Merlin to tell him what his nightmares are about, he’s horrified. It’ll be then that Arthur will begin to be more vocal about his objection to the executions, and ask questions about magic. Uther always punishes him of course, but Arthur just learns to hold his tongue instead.

Merlin cries, Morgana smiles widely, and Leon is speechless, when Arthur tells them that:

“When I’m King, magic will be everywhere! Of course people will have to be careful with it, but in the same way us knights have to be careful with swords. Isn’t that right, Leon?”

Leon goes pale at that, and takes a few moments to respond:

“Right... well. Just.... make sure you do your research Arthur, and that you know all the facts, and do NOT, no matter what, ever tell your father about this. Do you understand?”

Arthur nods glumly. He’s tried to change his father’s mind in the past, and it got him nothing but bruised knuckles and an hour long yelled lecture and extra training hours with the knights.

Leon looks to a sniffling Merlin next, and asks him what’s wrong. Arthur holds in a worried gasp, and Morgana raises an eyebrow (even at 14, she was incredibly observant and smart, she knew what was up).

Merlin grabs Arthur’s hand, but looks up at Leon through thick eyelashes, and mumbles so quietly, Leon barely hears it:

“Promise you won’t get mad? Or hate me?”

Leon has a bad feeling that he knows where this is going, but he puts a gentle hand on Merlin’s shoulder and gives him a soft smile:

“I could never hate you Merlin, promise.”

At that, Merlin bites his lip, and glances at Arthur quickly, before looking to the fire in the hearth. Leon furrows his brow in confusion, and Morgana hides an excited smile as Merlin mumbles under his breath:

“Give me a dragon.”

Leon gasps and takes a step back as the flames flutter, as if blown by a strong wind, before morphing into a miniature dragon.

The royal sorta-siblings look on in wonder as Merlin screws his face in concentration, eyes glowing golden, and Leon stares, speechless.

After a few minutes of the dragon flying around the large fireplace, it fades back into the flames again. Morgana whispers under her breath:

“That was amazing!” and Arthur smiles proudly as Merlin takes in deep breaths. He’d never held it that long before, and it had worn him out slightly.

He looks back to Leon (who is still staring dumbly at the fire) and furrows his brows in worry:

“You did promise... you’re not scared of me are you?” He looks close to tears again, and the tremble in his voice grabs Leon’s attention once again.

The older teen gathers the three of them in a tight hug, before whispering (worried someone would hear, even though they never have before):

“Of course I’m not scared of you, Birdy (an affectionate nickname, started by Morgana, and picked up by everyone else, much to Merlin’s chagrin), you just have to promise to be careful. I promise to try my best, but if someone else finds out I probably won’t be able to protect you, Ok?”

At that he pulls back, but grips Merlin’s shoulders tightly, worry written all over his face. When Merlin only nods infinitesimally, Leon shakes him ever so slightly, and gives him a desperate look:

“OK??” Merlin nods more vigorously, and mutters out an “I understand, Leon.”

Leon lets go and sighs, looking to the floor and fiddling with his hands hidden behind his back (one of the many rules he learnt growing up as a noble: fidgeting is a sign on weakness).

He takes in a fortifying breath and moves his hands to his sides before looking out the window, noticing that it’s almost dusk and looking back to the three children with a smile:

“You best get home Merlin, it’s getting late and I don’t want your mum to worry. Same time next week, ok? Next time we see each other, I’ll be a knight.” He says it with a grin, and smiles light up on the other’s faces as well. They were young, but they knew how much this meant to Leon, especially Arthur, who was about a year into his training.

Merlin gives everyone a quick hug, lingering a little longer on Arthur (like always) before stepping back, and disappearing with a pop.

~

The secret is revealed when Merlin is 15 (Arthur being 16, Morgana being 17, and Leon being 22).

The four of them had agreed a next meeting time, like normal, though they were having to be far more careful. With Arthur being older, he was being saddled with more and more responsibilities. His training hours and lessons were longer, he was expected to travel away from the city more, and he shadowed The King whilst he undertook his duties for the rest of the day.

Uther had mentioned Arthur’s soulmate in passing a few times (that always incited a hidden smirk from Morgana, and a nervous gulp from Leon, if he was around).

But Arthur always managed to derail the conversation and avoid the topic by saying something along the lines of “Finding my soulmate is important to me father, but not as important as learning to be the best King I can be for the kingdom. I feel the pull everyday, but until I am steadfast in my abilities and duties, it will remain unimportant to me.”

Uther always looked partially sad at that, he had loved Arthur’s mother, his soulmate, very much. But mostly he is proud at Arthur’s confidence and determination and loyalty.

If only he realised that Arthur was lying through his teeth, and had decided when he was incredibly young that he would happily hand all of it over to Morgana, in order to lead a simpler life with Merlin.

Anyway.

The next meeting time had been agreed. But bandits had been sighted causing trouble a few hours outside of the city, and Arthur was called to attend an emergency council meeting.

The page didn’t leave his side for a second, leading him straight to the council-room, meaning that Arthur couldn’t pop away for even two seconds to warn Merlin not to come.

He just had to hope that the meeting was over quick, and he could escape somewhere solitary before the young Warlock came around.

He was so close.

He paid close attention during the meeting, making excellent suggestions and being generally helpful, in an effort to speed things along. This backfired in a way he didn’t quite expect.

The meeting ended, knights sent to deal with the problem in the manner decided, and councilman heading back to whatever it is they did when not in meetings (at this point Arthur still doesn’t know, and is too afraid to ask). 

The Prince had almost made it out of the door before Uther called him back in. He halts in the doorway, and Morgana, ahead of him in the hallway, looks back, giving him a fearful look and mouthing “Give him an excuse! Hurry!”

Arthur turns back to the room (now devoid of everyone but The King and himself):

“I apologise father, but I was in the middle of-”

Uther gives him a stern look, and crooks a finger towards himself:

“Come. Here.”

Arthur schools his face, appearing blank, as he re-enters the room and shuts the door behind him. He stands to attention in front of his father, and figures this is just another part of the meeting he would have to hurry along. 

He glances at the shadows on the wall quickly, he should have another few minutes, as long as Merlin didn’t get too excited and appear earlier than he’s meant to.

“I wanted to congratulate you today Arthur. You did very well-”

He places a hand on his son’s shoulder and smiles hesitantly:

“-I... I’m proud of you. You’re learning well, picking things up quickly. You understand the workings of court and council near fluently now, and Sirs Kay and Leon tell me that your combat training is going astoundingly.”

Arthur’s resolve crumbles a little at that, and he almost forgets his desperation to leave the room:

“I... thank you, father. I’m trying my best to do you and the kingdom proud.”

Uther nods firmly at that and removes his hand, stepping back, the tender moment over as quickly as it had begun:

“Good. You are dismissed for the day, go back to your studies.”

Arthur struggles to hold in a relieved sigh as he bows briefly before turning around and almost rushing towards the door. He is too late however, and just as he reaches for the doorknob, he hears the tell tale pop sound from behind him. He freezes as he hears:

“Arthur, where the hell-” quickly interrupted by his father roaring:

“WHAT SORCERY IS THIS?! GUARDS!”

Arthur rushes to turn around and grabs Merlin’s hand, pulling him to the side as guards burst through the door he was just stood in front of.

All of them raise swords at the terrified boy that Uther was pointing at, and Arthur quickly positions his body between them and Merlin:

“NO! Don’t hurt him! Please!”

Morgana rushes in just moments after the guards, and spots the boys immediately, stepping around the knights and standing next to Arthur defiantly. Uther looks affronted before yelling, red-faced:

“What is the meaning of this? Explain yourselves this instant, and get away from that beast!”

Morgana tightens her jaw as she takes Merlin’s other hand protectively in her own. She can feel him shaking, but knows he is too scared to just disappear again. She’s secretly grateful for that. If Merlin disappeared now there would be a manhunt and demands of explanations. The King might believe them if they can show him the truth (the same way the boys had shown her and Leon all those years ago).

“Please father, just listen. Merlin is my soulmate, it isn’t sorcery, we simply have a bond stronger than others-”

At Uther’s still-angry snarl, Arthur straightens his back, and takes in a breath, standing still and strong:

“You will NOT harm him. I would lay down my life before you lay a hand on him.” The guards falter a little at that, but still keep their swords raised.

Arthur hears Merlin take in a shaky breath at that, and squeezes his hand slightly. Morgana nods her agreement and Arthur gives her a brief, grateful smile as she says confidently:

“The same goes for me, if you wish to harm Merlin, or separate him from Arthur, you will have to order your guards to strike me down first.”

Uther lets out a growl at that:

“Soulmate or not, he used sorcery to appear out of thin air. That is treachery!”

Arthur huffs before shouting back:

“NO! Just ask Gaius, or Geoffrey. Occasionally, there are soulmates whose bond is stronger than normal, just ask Gaius-”

Arthur gives Uther his own growl as he continues:

“-And like I said. I would challenge you yourself, before I allowed anyone to hurt him.”

Uther slumps slightly and narrows his eyes at his son before telling one of the younger guards to fetch Gaius and Geoffrey immediately. He does however tell the other guards to keep their swords trained on the boy, and Merlin almost takes a frightened step back, only stopped by Arthur and Morgana, who hold him steady.

Arthur and Uther remain in a hard staring contest for the few minutes it takes the guard to return, Gaius and Geoffrey in tow.

Gaius glances at Merlin in surprise, but covers it quickly as he returns his gaze to The King as he growls:

“Tell me all you know of soulmate bonds.”

Geoffrey speaks first, confusion in his tone:

“My Lord?” 

Uther levels a glare at him as he yells:

“NOW!”

Geoffrey is taken aback, but replies immediately:

“Well My Lord, everyone on this earth has a soulmate, someone whose soul is bound to your own. The bonds provide a compass of sorts, meaning that one can always tell what direction their soulmate is, and, with practice, roughly how far away they are. No one is certain of how these bonds come about, though centuries of research show that they aren’t harmful in anyway, and other than incredibly rare, extreme, cases, the two whose souls are bonded are a perfect match for each other; bound to fall in love-”

Gaius jumps in here:

“And in even rarer cases, My Lord, a pair may appear whose bond is so strong, they have further... abilities. This pair of souls will be able to appear to each other at will, only needing to wish to be in the other’s presence. They are also able to disappear again, but may only transport themselves to the position they were before. Academics are even more perplexed as to how these bonds are forged, though the only known pairs with such a bond have all gone on to achieve great things.”

Gaius resists the urge to look towards the three teenagers, and keeps his placating gaze on The King, who does seem to be calming slightly. Uther looks to Geoffrey for confirmation, and the librarian nods, adding:

“It is incredibly rare sire, but possible, and proven.”

Uther is considerably less angry now, but the guards don’t relax, and neither do Arthur or Morgana as The King speaks again:

“How would one prove such a bond, and differentiate it from sorcery?”

Gaius jumps to answer this question, trying to keep control of the situation:

“Well one could simply ask for a demonstration-”

He gestures to the teenagers still huddled to the side:

“-I’m assuming that these...?-”

At Uther’s stiff nod, he continues:

“-might I ask Prince Arthur to leave the room, the door shut behind him, and demonstrate his ability?” Uther looks angry for a moment, and Morgana tightens her hold on Merlin as he takes in a scared gasp. After a few moments of deliberation, The King looks to his son and gives a slight, but firm, nod.

Arthur gives Merlin a quick smile, and reluctantly lets go of his hand before saying:

“I’m only leaving him if the guards sheath their swords, and step back-”

Uther goes to interrupt him, but Arthur continues harshly:

-And THAT, is final.”

Uther gives a nod once more, and the guards cautiously put their swords away. Arthur nods at Morgana, and she takes his place directly in front of Merlin as he walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

Morgana can feel Merlin shaking behind her, but she grits her teeth, and squeezes his hand. She meant what she said, she would force the guards to cut her down before she allowed them to hurt her friend.

A second later, she hears the tell tale pop, and smirks slightly at the astounded look on Uther’s face, not having to look to know that Arthur was now stood behind her.

Uther still looks slightly disbelieving, but before he can say anything (or God forbid accuse his son of sorcery) Gaius speaks up:

“I have both ancient and modern literature on the subject My Lord, if you would like to read about it.”

Uther lets out a sigh, and purses his lips before looking to the physician:

“Very well. Have them ready for me tonight. Everybody out! I wish to talk to my son and this... boy.”

Gaius throws one last glance to the three teenagers, before shuffling out the room, closely followed by Geoffrey and the guards. Morgana stays in place.

Uther looks exasperated before saying:

“That includes you, Morgana. Out-”

Morgana interrupts him angrily:

“No. I will not leave. Merlin may be Arthur’s soulmate, but he’s my friend as well. I won’t allow you to hurt him, or speak down to him.”

Uther looks enraged once again, but Arthur speaks before he can start yelling again:

“I shan’t talk about it unless Morgana is allowed to remain, father. She has been nothing but loyal and protective of Merlin, and as his soulmate, I appreciate that greatly. She stays.” 

Arthur thought about demanding that Sir Leon be summoned as well, but he didn’t want to get the man into trouble, he had already done so much for them. And besides, Arthur is fairly certain that if he continues to order his Father around like this, he’ll lose his temper once more. There’s only so many demands someone can make of the King before context becomes unimportant, and it becomes a matter of pride.

Uther grits his teeth once more before nodding, and muttering out a quiet “Fine.”.

The King straightens himself, and regains his regal composure before speaking once again:

“Merlin, was it? Bring yourself forward, boy.”

Morgana goes to argue, and Arthur looks insulted, both about to retort against the tone and choice of words, but before they can say anything, Merlin pushes between them, to face Uther head on.

He gives a small bow, but maintains eye contact, and speaks once he raises again:

“Yes sire, my name is Merlin.”

Uther scowls as he looks him up and down, and Merlin can feel Arthur and Morgana fuming either side of him.

“You look like nothing but a farmer. I will not have my son and only heir, bonded to a peasant.”

Merlin goes to retort at that, indignant at having his worth as a person lowered by his class status, but before even Arthur can speak up, Morgana steps forwards angrily:

“I told you, I will not allow you to speak down to him. Merlin is a wonderful person. Kind, and compassionate, and wise beyond his years; he’s twice the man most of your so called nobles are, you will treat him with the respect he deserves, or the three of us will leave right now.”

Merlin is taken aback at that. I suppose because it’s only ever been the three of them, and Leon, he’s never really seen Morgana angry. Sure, he’s listened to her rant about the unjustness of Uther’s laws, but never anything like this. The display of somewhat aggressive protectiveness from her definitely makes him tear up a little.

Uther’s face turns red at her demand, and he looks about ready to kick off again, but Arthur steps forward, in line with Morgana (once again, leaving Merlin protected behind them):

“As she said father. Merlin is my soulmate, whether you like it or not. I will not leave him, we will not be separated, and that will never change. If you can not speak to him respectfully, then you won’t speak to either of us at all.”

Merlin takes Arthur’s shoulder and pushes himself forward again before saying quietly:

“Arthur, no, he’s your father. I don’t mind, it’s fine, maybe I should go?”

Arthur doesn’t look at him, but takes his hand wordlessly, gripping it tight as he glares at Uther (who looks slightly taken aback at the offer).

Morgana once again takes Merlin’s other hand and says:

“No. We’re resolving this now, and The King is just going to have to come to terms with the fact that someone’s status does not define their worth.” She looks pointedly at Uther at that, and the older man sighs, rubbing his eyes slightly, before gesturing to the council table:

“Fine. Arthur, Morgana, Merlin, take a seat, and we shall discuss how we plan to move forward.”

~

END OF PART 1

Part 2 is up! Part 3 is up!

Let me know what y’all think :)

[its-me-im-coraline]

Lucky Charm // Ethan Torchio

words // 1215

warning // / maybe some would find it a bit angsty but it is generally fluff

pairing // Ethan Torchio x GN!Reader

author's note // ok so I decided to do 3rd person point of view this time, let me know if you enjoy it or if you prefer the 1st person point of view like my other maneskin fics. It is a little different than what I suppose the person requesting thought but I still hope you enjoy this 💕 Also, I am starting to write longer fics which I am excited about lol, i hope you reading it are enjoying longer fics as well

request // yes, here, by @paiges0926

summary // Ethan is feeling a little off before a show with the band. He has been away from reader for a while and the distance is killing him. Here are their face time calls before the show.

It had been a rough while, every one could tell. Although the relationship has been going on for a couple years now, there had never been this long when the couple were apart. Usually, it was short periods of times, maybe a few weeks; sometimes it was just days, since they would decide tagging along the band was a good idea. This time though, it was around two months that Ethan and his lover had not being close, if anything to just hold each other to sleep when bad thoughts striked - and it was difficult to bare.

Ethan, even while not being the biggest fun of always touching someone, felt a certain comfort in the arms of his partner. Late at night, when anxious thoughts could potentially keep him awake, there was the love of his life, asleep, peaceful and lovely as ever, soft snores, maybe even a bit of drooling from time to time, put him in a state of euphoria; just by looking at them. He missed how the hugs felt, the kisses, all the jokes and giggles while being with each other… Some times his partner would be awake as well, catching him in deep thought or concentration on a book - he was not actually reading- understanding the situation within a second before jumping into comforting action.

As of right now, he didn’t want to worry his love but he was in dire need of some sense of comfort. The time was... late, and he knew that, he knew the up and coming concern he would create but he was in need of seeing Y/N's face and hearing their voice.

“Hey, dolce amore, che cosa è?” Y/N was clearly troubled. The clock read 02.54 am, beside the bed as they tried to turn on the lamp, and Ethan was also supposed to be asleep. (hey, sweet love, what is it?)

“I am sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you, but-”

“But you are anxious,” Y/N interrupted, quickly catching onto the reason he was calling at such a time.

“Yeah.” His voice was soft and low, shame laced in the breathy exclamation as he looked everywhere but his lover’s face.

“It is ok, baby. What is troubling you at this hour?” They harbored a soft look on their face. It was not -just- because of the time, but they always held this expression when Ethan was troubled. A soft almost smile, eyes looking at him with so much love. Usually that was enough to put his worries to rest.

“I miss you. A lot. And we have this show tomorrow, we are performing Lividi sui Gomiti and I am afraid I haven’t rehearsed it enough, and this show is really important and I can not afford to fa-”

“Ethan, breath!” The sudden interjection slightly startled the man that, while rambling about his worries, had forgotten the most fundamental of actions; to breath.

“I am just worried about the show, that is all.” That was not all, and while not yet, Y/N would realize soon enough.

“It is ok, baby. Remember that you are doing this for you, forget other people for a second. You love to play your drums and you love the music you and the others make, right?” A slight hum from his line was the only response.

“Well, then remember that, and breath. Everything will be alright, I am sure of that. Yeah?”

“I am trying, amore, I really am, but man, it is hard right now.” His voice sounded almost like it was breaking, eyes slightly watery, still avoiding the camera of his phone.

“Is there something else going on, too?” Y/N could really read Ethan like an open book, even if it took a moment, they always understood what the drummer was trying to hide.

“I miss you, Y/N. A lot.” Although both knew the truth of his words, it was the first time he had admitted to it. “I just wish you were here touring with us.”

“I know, love, me too. But school/work is all over the place in the moment an-”

“I know, I know. I just miss you a lot...” The sorrowful look in his eyes broke Y/N’s heart whenever it was there. They thought that this man shall never feel anything negative; unfortunately that exceeded their control.

“I miss you too, Ethan. The house is empty when you are not here… Is there something I could do right now?”

“Can you teleport?”

With a breathy laugh and a sweet smile on their face, Y/N replied, “I wish I could, Ethan. I wish I could.”

“It’s late. You should go to sleep. You have that thing for school/work tomorrow. Oh my, I forgot! I am so sorry!” Oh, sweet, sweet, Ethan, even when struggling he is considering his person’s possible struggle - truly what has kept him from saying he misses them for so long.

“It is alright, love. Are you feeling any better now?”

“Yes. Lots.”

“Good, good. Now, why don’t both of us go to sleep now and we can talk again tomorrow.”

Just a simple face time call is all Ethan needed to calm his last minute nerves keeping him awake, going to sleep being far easier now, after the short conversation. The restful sleep did not last long and the morning arrived. Both of them were extremely busy for the am hours, the one with concert preparations and the other with different responsibilities they couldn’t ignore. But as they could not forget the responsibilities they could not fail to remember the little tradition they had with Ethan.

Although the Italian man is not full on superstition, believing in his and the band’s hard work far more than any “luck”, he found he performed better after chatting with his lover before a show. Thus they “lucky call” tradition was created - surely being turned into a “lucky kiss” if they were with each other.

Ethan could hear his phone ringing in his pocket during the chaos that is pre-performance. He was tempted to ignore it at first, not knowing who it is, but soon enough he changed his mind, seeing “mi amore” with the bold lettering of his phone, and responded to the video call.

“Hey, cucciolo, what’s up?” After a good night’s sleep and the swift encouragement of his lover, Ethan felt in high spirits, voice light like he’s floating. (apparently it means puppy which I think is so cute)

“Someone’s in a good mood!”

“Well someone spoke to a little birdy that told them they’ll do good today,” he smiled, the softest, most loving expression adorning his face.

“I am glad to be of service, good sir,” they joked,” but I wanted to reminded you of what I said last night. You will do great, good luck!”

“Why, thank you, dearie. I greatly appreciate it. How did work/school go?”

“It was alright, but, come on, this is your moment. I take it rehearsals went well?”

“Absolutamente, si! I was worrying about nothing!” His excitement was unbelievable. He called almost ready to cry the night before and now you wouldn’t be able to slap the smile of his face if you tried.

“Good to hear, love.”

“Well, you are my lucky charm, so I am not surprised at all.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast

[crybabyddl]

I WOULD VERY MUCH LIKE TO REITERATE SOMETHING

Yes, let’s circle back to the beautiful performance of Edge of Great. More specifically the BODY LANGUAGE, particularly Julie and Luke’s, which I will be analyzing with gifs.

Exhibit A

Jealous Luke looks over at Julie and Reggie vibing

Julie is aware that she’s avoiding Luke, which she is doing so bc she realized her feelings for him thanks to Flynn earlier in the episode.

Since Julie has put the task of ignoring Luke upon herself even though she has no obligation to, she ends up failing her own mission. She sees Luke’s reaction to the lack of her attention.

She literally FREEZES. She’s emotionally worried to confront what she’s feeling and it’s beginning to manifest physically.

Exhibit B

It gets better y’all. After Luke finally has even a crumb of Julie’s attention, he beckons her over with his signature head tilt. This is important bc he did this with his longtime bandmate during the soundcheck of what would’ve been their biggest performance. If he feels comfortable enough using that body language with a girl he’s only known for, what, a week and a half(?) then you know this puppy boy’s got it BAD.

Julie is well aware that Luke is getting jealous. But in classic Julie fashion, she will try to tune it out instead of addressing it. Our wicked beauty doesn’t like confrontation and would rather just deny and avoid than potentially make things awkward, especially when she knows Luke would ask her about it at a later time.

The look on Julie’s face. Her eyes widen and the classic tight-lipped awkward smile is present. She’s literally saying “ok enough of that let’s get back to work doo doo doo” with her face. The way her body SWINGS back into performance mode as she faces the audience again. It may have been a split second, but when you’re deliberately trying to avoid looking into the dreamy (dead) eyes of someone you shouldn’t be crushing on, any amount of time feels too long. Plus, she knows Flynn is watching and doesn’t want her to lecture her (but she does anyway bc Flynn is observant and knows her bestie too well to let any action slip past her).

Exhibit C

Keep in mind; NONE OF THE GUYS KNOW WHY JULIE IS AVOIDING LUKE. Flynn, Alex, and Reggie have noticed the Juke chemistry, but it’s still too soon for them to get past the “we like each other but we’re too clueless to notice that we reciprocate” phase, so even though their respective besties know, they are still denying. Besides, Reg, Alex, and Flynn know better than to keep pestering if they want to keep their kneecaps. In reality they’re both smart enough to tell by this point, but for the sake of the plot and to make everything more adorably frustrating, Flynn has the collective brain cell under lock and key, leaving Juke to be like *dog tilting its head and making that “a-roo?” noise*

Anyway, Reggie notices Luke being snubbed after realizing that his extra dose of Julie time was slightly out of the ordinary. Luke is clearly concerned (look at his eyebrows and how his eyes travel from Reggie, to Julie, then to the audience to trying and get his mind off it and bring his focus back to the main goal; the performance.) If he can’t have the moment of connection with Julie that he so desperately craves, he’s gonna fill that void as best he can by connecting with the audience. >:’)

But Reggie’s trying to help Luke brush it off by conveying his reaction as ‘look at julie coming into her own! i told you she was a star! and you thought you were the lead singer? think again buddy this girl’s got you beat!’

But since Reggie isnt a master at hiding his feelings yet, especially around Luke, —who was able to get under his skin earlier (“girls, am i right?”)—Luke was easily able to see through that and interpreted what Reggie was saying as “look at julie go, she all in the zone. you’re literally making heart eyes at her get a grip you’re slacking lmao” (hence luke’s right eyebrow quirking at reggie like ‘dude seriously gimme a break u know i need attention like tinkerbell’) even though Reggie’s true message was a bit less harsh and more lovingly teasing, but it’s Luke, he sees things through his eyes and at his intensity, regardless of who it’s coming from. (This is one of the reasons why Luke comes off as selfish at times.)

Exhibit D

Poor Lukey boi can’t seem to catch a break today! Not only does Julie ignore him, then has a cute lil (platonic but it’s luke so it still makes him jealous >:P) moment, but now she has the AUDACITY to interact with Alex? The guy who was out learning Ghost 101 with this Willie guy instead of rehearsing with the band? What gives?! What’s he got that your moody ghost bf doesn’t? >:’(

He literally just watches, and even glances back in a way that, to me, screams ‘did i see that right? did i just see what i just saw with my own dreamy (but dead) eyes? say sike rn.’ \_(*_*)_/

Meanwhile, Alex pays no mind. I like to think that Alex is fully aware that Luke is an angry boy rn, but has learned to ignore it, especially this bc literally NOTHING happened. Either that or Alex has no clue and just truly thinks nothing of it and is having too much fun to think about Luke’s moody and childish behavior. Either way, Alex is just straight chilling and we love to see it *^_^*

Notice how Reggie is right there vibing with Julie and Alex. Luke feels a bit betrayed like ‘not you too! i know you were the first to turn on me but i figured since you’re such a golden retriever you’d be loyal and come back to my side!😠🥲’

Also; Luke approaches the rest of the group, wanting to be included in at least SOME of the vibing, but when Julie starts dancing and smiling with her buddy Alex, he backs up like

“you know what? nope. nevermind. not doin’ it.”

and the group’s like “i mean hey it’s your loss, but luke we want you to-”

“no, bc you chose to piss me off right in front of my face so no luke time for any of you! no cuddles, no hugs, no nothing! you made your bed, now lie in it and perish.”

Exhibit E & F: This is where it gets a bit interesting and theorized hehe...

Now we all know that this moment is just fucking ICONIC

WEOWH NEOW NEOW!!! WEOW NEHR NEHR NER-NER-NER NEHR NEHR NEOWHR!!! (wer nehr-nehr-ner-ner-nehr-nehr!!) WUEHNER-NEUHNER-NEHR-NEEOW-NEOWH! DLOOLOODDUH-DOODLAH-HOOBLUEH-NEOWHR-NEUEHR-NEEEEEEUOWRH!!!!

But hear me out– HEAR ME OUT!

What if... now don’t shoot the messenger who just so happens to also be the theorist... but what if...

WHAT IF!!! Luke didn’t!! plan this?!!!

Listen i know you’re probably thinking:

“Well uh Nicole, isn’t that kinda the whole point? It literally wasn’t planned until Charlie realized Madi was gonna be standing on the piano so he suggested the idea for the guitar solo to Kenny.”

And you’re right! But here’s the kicker:

What if Luke THE CHARACTER, just decided to do this as an “Alright that’s it! You wanna be like that? Well what if I just hit you with my super awesome radical totally cool wowza guitar skills & make a moment between us? Huh? What do you think about that? Hmm? HMMM???!!!”

He licks his lips & that to me read** like he was nervous (**read rhyming with bed just to clarify) so that means it could’ve been a spontaneous, spur-of-the-moment thing.

In the second gif, you can see that Julie’s head is tilted, as if she’s a bit confused, but she’s also delightfully surprised.

Julie is quick to smile and scrunch her nose at Luke, something she does often. It tells Luke his impulsive action garnered a positive response from his favorite girl. Julie also starts to shake her head, but doesn’t go through the motion in full, which means she’s still a bit nervous to let her guard down. This is probably because she doesn’t know what he’s thinking or what he will do next. The lopsided smile mixed with the suave, gliding steps towards her probably brought her back to her daydream lol.

Luke’s happy bc Julie’s no longer ignoring him. He smiles like a GOOBER bc this chump is simping HARD for our Julie. So cute! :’)

Exhibit G

And hear me when I offer this:

What if Luke poofed the guys out???

I know, I know. It’s a bold claim to make. But the boys are special, considering they are a threat to Caleb (3 gay-variant himbos vs. a gay magician that could’ve been on broadway but decided to make some sort of deal with a devil so he just entertains capitalists who most likely sold their souls to get into the hgc which i will probably elaborate on in a future theory so dont do that bc im gonna lmao idc we all have big brains) So it’s not too crazy to think that they could share some ghost powers.

We know Caleb transported the guys during You Got Nothing to Lose. And the guys have left a place at the exact same time on more than one occasion.

And you may be thinking “well what if the guys poofed out to give juke a moment alone together?” And to that I say...

Look at Reggie. He isn’t looking back at Alex like “dude let’s give them some space.”

The timing of him turning around, at least to me, makes me think Reggie was surprised by Luke approaching the piano. (But also he lowkey was waiting for Luke to prove him wrong by doing something to get Julie’s attention so Reggie isn’t mad. Neither is Alex but he doesn’t like being told how or WHEN to ghost) Luke doesn’t even give his bandmates a warning eyebrow quirk, a hand signal, nothing. Reggie turns to Alex like ‘dude what is he DOING?’ And before he can even really convey that, they go *POOF*

This man had a plan and he was gonna do it, so he did. Whether it’s the power of love, they stopped performing, or Reggie and Alex actually poofed out, the odds worked in Luke’s favor so he and Julie could have a super special moment, a moment special enough to make an actual living person (Nick) wonder if a “hologram” has a better chance at connecting with Julie than he does.

Again, regardless of who made them poof or how they poofed, they mf poofed so Luke’s a happy hamster. (Idk it just sounded fitting instead of happy camper lol wait what if someone had 3 pet hamsters and named them alex reggie and luke🥺 someone buy some hamsters and let me be their godmother or their aunt and i’ll love them from afar.) Anyway, Luke’s thriving, flourishing, his crops are going to grow in time for the harvest.

You can see Julie lean back as she turns to see Luke. It’s... almost as if... She. Wasn’t. Expecting. Him. To. Be. There..??

Honey badger Luke bc he DGAF <|:) Bitch, it’s Luke mf Patterson and he’s gonna,, GET! IN! YOUR! FAAAACE!!!

You CANNOT tell me he’s not doing the absolute MOST to try and seduce Miss Juliana Mariposa Rose Molina.

Yes I’m making a headcanon that Julie has TWO middle names and that one of them is the spanish word for butterfly and that the other is her mother’s name. Also yes, I believe (i believe that we’re just one dream away from who we’re– oh, that’s not what we’re doing? okay, sorry!) that Juliana is Julie’s full name.

In this house we love and respect Juliana Mariposa (Dahlia)** Rose Molina

**I’m just putting Dahlia there for fun bc I can. :) Whether I’d consider it a possible middle name of hers depends. Anyway I just thought it was a cute thing to add bc it goes along with the other middle names I gave her *^_^* Also, I feel like I made a post giving a bunch of the characters middle names lemme see if I can find it later)

Ok i’m done this took me basically all day from like 10am until 4:08. I obviously took breaks in between, but not long ones...😶