#I don't write on it as actively as I would like

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

I've been watching random videos on YouTube that keep popping up and the comments and the hate on Lando is so out of proportion, controversial and hypocritical, I saw a comment that he is too active online and was liking hate comments about himself after BrazilGP so I was wondering if you could do a smau where he has a friend that has faced slvtshaming and hate and stayed soft and sweet through all her hard times, and she is always there just grounding him whenever he's too much on his head or isolating himself. Maybe she helps him with his anxiety and makes him see himself through a softer gentle light and she's just really chill and always sees the silver lining, always supports and uplifts everyone and the content that she follows is just girls that go on walks, yoga, reading nooks, shops of handmade stuff like those in cotswolds etc. I don't know if it's too much or uncomfortable for you, but I'd really like to see that if you could. Oh and maybe she's Edinburgh based? Have a nice one! X

peace ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

𓍯 ִֶָ ln x reader ᥫ᭡

𓍯 ִֶָ smau + fluff ᥫ᭡

masterlist ☾☼

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landonorris

liked by yourusername, mclaren, and 901,573 others

landonorris resetting. thank you for the reminder yourusername

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yourusername Anytime, you big dummy. Did you bring the tea I packed for you? 💨☕ 

user1 y/n's the real MVP. Lando's gonna feel way too zen here! 💙 

user2 We love a supportive friendship. Keep going, mate! Ignore the noise. 🌟

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landonorris

liked by oscarpiastri, lnfour, and 884,012 others

landonorris Not the weekend I hoped for, but we move. Thank you to everyone who sticks by me even on the tough days. 🧡

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user5 Ignore the haters, Lando, you’re doing great!! 💪🏽

user3 How is he liking hate comments about himself? 😒 Weird behavior.

user4 Sometimes people cope in strange ways. Let’s try to give grace. 💛

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, user10, and 7,421 others

yourusername Anxiety feels like a storm, but it passes if you stay grounded. 🕊️ I remind myself that the world is still soft and beautiful.

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user11 This is the energy I need today. Thank you. 🌱✨

landonorris What if I brought my storm to Edinburgh? Would it pass faster? 👀

yourusername Only if you let me ground you.

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yourusername

liked by landonorris, maxfewtrell, and 7,005 others

yourusername Grateful moments, little joys, and grounding souls ✨

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user15 Okay, but Lando looks suspiciously calm in that last pic… y/n, teach us your ways! 🖤

landonorris never realised how fun pottery would be! <3

user16 she's literally my inspiration

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landonorris

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, and 812,003 others

landonorris Found my peace here. 🕊️ Thanks to yourusername for reminding me the world is softer than I think.

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user18 This is the wholesome content we need. 🧡

yourusername Storms don’t scare me anymore. 😉

landonorris You’re braver than I am.

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hi! thank you so much for reading! i'm not sure if i love this personally, because i don't think i did this justice, but i hope you like it. this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

[weepingchronicles]

The yandere caitlyn hcs where SO GOOD OMGG, can you please maybe write some about what day to day life would be like “living” with caitlyn. (now I’m picturing the reader doing a “grwm as a kidnapping victim” video) TYY

part one

a/n: i giggled at the grwm joke,, i'd definitely watch that on youtube or tiktok. LMAO.

cw: captivity, yandere behavior, controlling and overbearing behavior, drugging, physical violence, infantilization, amputation

❝yandere!caitlyn kiramman x fem!reader❞

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I think the day to day routine would change slowly overtime! Depending on how long you've been in Caitlyn's "care."

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I imagine for awhile from the moment you awoke to months after, Caitlyn would be pretty strict and diligent with routine. Wakes you up at 6 am, get ready for the day, breakfast at 7 sharp, activities for the day, lunch at 2 pm, dinner at 6 pm and bedtime at 10 pm. Obviously there will be small tweaks depending on what you both do but everything has to go through Caitlyn first. The reason for her absolute strictness on this is fear of what might happen if she does not abide by it. You could easily slip from her fingertips, she also wants to be the best caretaker for you and this is her way of proving it to you.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Fortunately, if you continue keep being good and stay out of troubles way she will eventually settle down! Things will be a lot more relaxed, she is still strict on making sure your health is well maintained though. But she'll let you stay up if you want, to a reasonable time of course. Or you can sleep in! As long as she gets cuddles in return. Ugh.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Honestly you'd probably get bored often, especially with Caitlyn's job. So she tends to spend as much time with you as possible.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She likes to teach you things! From piano lessons, painting and simply reading together. You might not be that willing at first but your boredom gets to you so often that you eventually accept those activities with her. Caitlyn thinks of it as bonding.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She also loves to pamper you, dressing you up in fancy clothing and dresses or having you try delicious pastries. If you have a sweet tooth then you're in heaven! On calm days, you both will drink tea while reading.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 Her punishments vary, often if you are simply acting out as she likes to call it, she'll simply restrain you or drug you with a light sedative.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 For more severe offenses, like trying to escape or hurt Caitlyn, etc. She will not be happy. She'll restrain you, guide you away from whatever it is you're doing or stop you from trying to hurt her, etc and then she'll lecture you. Like some child. An unequal. You have to maintain eye contact with her too because if you don't she will grab your chin roughly or snatch your hair.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 I can't really see Caitlyn letting you get away with things too easily, this girl holds a grudge so when you mess up it will take even longer to regain her trust back. No matter if you prove yourself or your behavior is as pristine as can be, she will question and look at you suspiciously. She will only relax when she is 100% sure nothing of the sort will happen again.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She will put you in a guest room and lock you inside, tying you up inside for a couple days until her initial anger wears off. During that time she'll bring you food or anything essential of course, she will also recite the rules of the house over and over, making sure you understand them and the consequences.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 If you're a particularly resistant darling then I am afraid things will not go well for you.. you can only disobey Caitlyn a handful of times before she has to do something about it. Permanently.

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 She will straight up either break your legs so you cannot walk ever again or amputate them. You will need her constantly and she loves it. At this point she has no sympathy for you, at least not in the real way. She pities you but in her mind you made her do this. Why couldn't you just obey her and live her domestic fantasy?

💭 ୧ ‧₊˚ 🧁 "This is your fault, darling."

art credit: @/kulnifer on twt

[rorja]

synopsis. just building cats out of bricks with satoru gojo.

a/n. it came to me in a dream....... ( first time writing for gojo and I'm . a bound of nerves 😵‍💫😵‍💫 but my inner demons worked hard..... and there's something so comforting about building lego sets around Christmas.......TT. anywayy,, as usual I'll proofread as soon as I wake up! happy holidays everyone <3)

just thinking about assembling building blocks together with satoru gojo. it's an unusual evening, unplanned and beyond the closed window the city is still bustling under the first caresses of snow.

the cold can't touch you, here. he made sure to put the heater on when you stepped on the threshold of his house and a blanket eventually found its way to you once the coat got discarded on the faraway corner of the sofa.

unplanned. like the black and yellow cardboard near the coffee table or the white, numbered paper bags you were opening after finishing a piece of the entire structure. one at the time. you suppose that ending up at satoru's place and building lego was not something you'd imagine yourself doing in one of december's seemingly never-ending afternoon. but the tv is on with some christmas-themed romcom, satoru's long limbs are shoved under the small coffee table you were set to use as a building headquarter and the heater's nice.

it was supposed to be a gift, you believe, but on the box there has never been a specific address or some kanji with a name, nor it was wrapped like any other christmas gifts. it was there, annoyingly on display for everyone to see and it became an impromptu gift with no recipient.

"and so you bought it?" satoru repeats again, throwing a glance to the instructions once again before placing the brick on the semi-stable structure he was assembling. "it seems like I'm becoming a bad influence to you, huh"

you don't grace him with an answer— too busy trying to put together all the pieces of the ninth bag. the pieces fit perfectly with each other, and after a while the cat became more than discernible. satoru didn't try to maintain the conversation, now entirely sucked in whatever platform he had to build.

the clock on the wall kept going, but its ticketing fell on deaf ears. you couldn't help but glance at him; satoru was focused but his eyes betrayed his boy-ish intrigue to the blocks. it felt weird in a sense, to being a witness of such a moment. the pieces were smaller than his pinkies, and you've noticed that sometimes his nails would get in the way while pushing a block onto another one. surprisingly he seemed to really like it, and not just following your rhythm absentmindedly.

(but you suppose that's satoru specialty, surprising you. and it has happened more times that could be counted on your fingers, lately.)

a beat. you return to your piece but soon enough the moment to put all of that together happens and you're left wondering after a whispered "I don't remember building lego before" leaves his mouth. a confession of sorts that has your stomach turn in knots before you could even blink. you don't think you were supposed to hear it in first place, as his eyes still don't dare to leave the base of the creature made of blocks.

it struck you then how much care satoru actually is putting in his half of the work: he is taking his time to read and follow the instructions where he would've not had the will to keep going— getting easily distracted in any other situation; delicately fitting the pieces of this cat-sized puzzle deep in concentration, with his tongue peeking out once a peculiar mechanism demands more attention than anything else. it's not something he's following through just because you asked for him to, but more because he's actually enjoying it.

(enjoying doing such mundane activities with you.)

one, two, three pieces and the cat is done. satoru pushes jokingly the spare pieces towards your side of the table and you wordlessly puts them in one of the bags you've been opening for a while. but there's something wrong, you think eyeing the cat once again, something that makes your eyes squint in concentration. before he could even question (or joke) about what has you frowning so much, you pick the spare pair of eyes from the bag, the blue one, and you replace them to what satoru has picked previously. useless to say, the choice has him pouting at you.

"now, why would you that? brown eyes suited him" he retorts, his chin lying on his crossed arms on the smooth surface of the table. it's probably the third time, in all those years you've known him, that you can see his eyes so clearly without sunglasses or blindfold on.

"with blue eyes it reminds me of someone I know, unfortunately" you shrug, holding on into this staring contest he started first, and it has you feeling dizzy somehow. exposed, even. but his pouts doesn't disappear, it only lasts more which is why eventually leads you to a sigh— and under his amused expression you retrieve one of the eyes to put the blue one. "you happy now?"

"very much, thank you!"

you sigh again, this time more loudly while leaning against the small sofa. then, before you could even ponder the words sitting on your tongue, you ask him: "should we give it a name?"

the smile on satoru's face betrayed his mask once again.

(days later, after one hard mission assigned, megumi would question the presence of the lego cat to which satoru would answer with the proudest look the kid's ever seen on his face: "his name is Taro!")

[gd-dollopole]

I'm so sorry for this, it sucks! I'm so busy too I can't even read I WANT TO DIE!!! But you can do this, it seems very tough BUT I BELIEVE IN YOU!!! And this system sucks, they should at least give you more holidays to take all of this in.

AND I'LL BE THERE TO COMMENT WHEN IT'LL BE OVER and take your time to write it don't worry, I understand and so do your other readers (I thought too I could have finished my two fics earlier BUT you know life so *sad face*)

BUT HERE it is cooking something as always, and maybe Arthur doesn't even have that many special powers, he just gets easily tired if he doesn't cuddle or snuggle Merlin, or something, like he can eat and sleep and be active but if he doesn't get his dose of MERLIN SNUGGLES nah he might as well die.

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?” Merlin stared one second at those puppy eyes and just sighs and goes “Yeah, fine, I’m not typically a fan of worms, but if you were one—“ *Arthur runs to squish him in his arms. Arthur is happy☺️*

(thank you, thank you, we’re gay AND SMART the best of two worlds)

Yeah yeah, Merlin being a doctor, Merlin being a biologist, a writer,...

BUT what if Merlin decided for shit and giggle to find a weird thing to study? The kind of thing that when you explain it at family meal there is a blank of confusion because nobody understands what you do/because this is so fucking weird

Now this could go 2 different way

Post return arthur coming out of tha lake and Merlin desperately avoiding what he has been doing the last decade (IMAGINE IF HE GOT A JOB AS A PROFESSOR OF SAID WEIRD STUDIES)

Merlin peacefully walking to get to his class and finding reincarnated Artbur. Poor him trying very hard to avoid the subject of "In What Field He Is"

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Merry Christmas, baby.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x f!reader Rating: just a little tiny bit of smut so still +18 but it’s mostly a huge pile of angst and fluff soooo Words Count: 10669 😵‍💫 Tags: POV second person, reader wears dresses, skirts, blouses and heels, she uses make up, she’s a journalist and a writer, no physical description of her is given besides having hair, angst, fluff, friends to lovers, slow burn, loss of a parent, infidelity, divorce, mention of food, alcohol consumption, both reader and Pike are bad at feelings, swearing, slurs, dirty talk, quarrels, reconciliations, funeral, sharing a bed, kissing, sad thoughts, casual encounters, mention of coffee, mention of spring break activities, geography probably a bit random (but I looked at the maps, don't jump down my throat, I did research and I've actually been to Boston many years ago, I tried my best lol), brief mention of Teresa. I hope I haven't forgotten anything, if so I'll add it immediately. A/N: Written for @pedrostories Secret Santa event, hello @letsgobarbs, I’m your Secret Santa! 🤶 Happy Christmas Eve, I hope you'll have a wonderful holiday season! 🎄 I hope you enjoy this story and I hope you find the angst, yearning and pining you wanted. Among the characters you had indicated as favorites there was Pike and I liked the idea of ​​trying to write him for the first time, he is so sweet and cute and he deserves to be happy, I hope I gave him an ending worthy of him 🥹 I apologize if you find any mistakes, English is not my first language and I don't have a beta so I did it all with just one pair of stupid and tired eyes 😵‍💫

A huge thanks goes to all the lovely people who supported me through the process while I was having a full crisis about everything in this fic 😂 @baronessvonglitter @almostempty @arcanefox207 @joelmillerisapunk I love you all, happy holidays 🥰

1990

“So what do you think?” 

“Um...you're good” You've just heard the ugliest Take on Me cover ever, but you can't tell the guy standing in front of you and looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

Marcus is your best friend, you've known him for a couple of years, since both of you were two dorky freshmen at your new school. You were looking for the literature room and wandering lost in the hallways when Marcus asked if you needed help. You bonded right away because you didn't know anyone else, you had just moved to Sacramento because of your father's job and he was from Texas, so it had seemed natural to lean on each other.

Over time you had become such good friends that he had met your parents, he would often stay for dinner, and your dad would let him use your garage to rehearse with his band. 

Marcus had put up flyers at school and enlisted two other boys, Timmy and Dave, who became the guitarist and keyboardist of Rocket Baby Doll. The name of the band was terrible, they were terrible, but you had never had the courage to tear them down in the face of Marcus's enthusiasm, he was sure that by continuing to rehearse they would make great progress. 

With his smooth talk, Marcus had managed to convince the committee to let them play at the freshmen's Christmas dance.

“You'll see that one day we'll be on the cover of Rolling Stone,” Marcus joked. Or at least you hoped he was joking because otherwise you wouldn't know how to talk him out of it. 

Marcus was a dreamer and he liked to do it big. He wanted to be a musician, or maybe an FBI agent, he told you. Two careers that had nothing to do with each other, but you knew that if anyone could afford to have ambitions it was him. Marcus was tenacious, persistent, dedicated, and never afraid to work hard to get what he wanted.  He certainly wasn't going to end up on the cover of Rolling Stone, but in your heart you were certain he was going to accomplish something important.

He was the kind of boy mothers liked, in fact yours loved him. When you needed math tutoring, he would come to your house totally for free and explain whatever you didn’t understand.

When Molly Preston wanted to exclude you from the winter dance because her ex-boyfriend, Ryder, had asked you out, he had been the one to give her a speech.

When you had a bad day Marcus would take you to get your favorite ice cream, you would talk for hours, and in the end he was the only one who could cheer you up.

Whatever problems you had, Marcus was there for you landing an helping hand. 

You knew your mother not too secretly hoped you would get together but it never happened, Marcus was your friend, just a great friend.

“Come on, my mom made cookies for everyone,” you told him as he continued to fantasize about what you might do. You would be their manager and you would both become rich and famous. He just couldn't keep his feet on the ground, even though he was a very good student and even had better grades than you.

You were 17 years old, your whole lives ahead of you, and you hoped that you will remain friends for many years to come.

_____________________________________________

1993

“What do you mean there is only one room available! We had booked two!” 

Marcus had yelled at the front desk of a motel where you stopped for the night. 

The owner, a rather creepy guy with a long scar on his right cheek, slumps in his shoulders, heedless “If you want number 12 is free, otherwise you can take your asses somewhere else for all I care.”

Marcus was fuming. 

It was spring break, any hotel was totally booked, and the possibilities were already significantly reduced given your pockets. 

You didn't even want to come; you had just broken up with Derek, your college boyfriend, and were back at your parents' house with the intention of spending your vacation there healing your wounds. Vegetating on the couch, reading books, watching movies, just relaxing. That was what you wanted to do. But Marcus had insisted, “Erik, Alice, Kate and Robert are in San Diego, let's join them!” 

You had shaken your head and declined “No way, I've seen enough wild college parties and besides, I'm not really in the mood.” 

“Oh come on, you don't want to spend Spring Break crying over that jerk,” he had said, shrugging and looking at you with his big brown puppy-dog eyes. 

“Marcus, I really don't feel like it.” 

“Come on, please do it for me! You'll see we'll have fun, they're nice!” Surrounding yourself with drunk and stoned 20-year-olds was the least of your desires. 

But on the other hand you felt you couldn't say no to him, it had been months since you had seen each other, your relationships had been reduced to long letters and phone calls telling each other about each other's schools.

You had chosen different colleges, Marcus had been accepted at Berkeley in California and you were at Boston University. You had changed coast, climate, everything. You were content but adjusting the first months had not been easy, you felt homesick and you missed your best friend. You were happy for him, you had known since your senior year that you were going to separate but that hadn't made it easy for you. 

You had only seen each other in person at Thanksgiving.

He had been forced to go to his relatives in Nevada for Christmas.

So you got dragged down to San Diego, because deep down Marcus was right, brooding all vacation about the relationship with Derek would not be good for you. You had had other guys before him but Derek had been special, until you found out he was cheating on you. You cried for hours on the phone with Marcus and he listened to you the whole time so maybe you owed him a little too.

After insisting on getting at least a room refund, Marcus had turned to you displeased “apparently we have no other choice.” 

“We'll adjust” you had smiled, but you couldn't deny that you were a little nervous. 

Once in the room he, too, seemed self-conscious. 

There was a double bed with a hideous floral bedspread in the middle of the room, brownish carpeting on the floor, dingy pictures hanging on the walls, and an old dresser on the opposite side of the bed with a rickety TV on it.

A smell of cheap deodorant with a musty undertone wafted around. It was the worst room I had ever set foot in, but at this point there was nothing you could do but make it okay. Sleeping in the car didn't seem so appealing.

You had set your bags down and looked at each other awkwardly “This room is awful,” Marcus had whispered, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand “I'm sorry, it didn't look that bad from the brochure.” 

“It's not your fault, I bet those pictures were taken at least 20 years ago” you had laughed ”it will do for one night” 

You had retrieved your pajamas from the suitcase and went to the bathroom. The light blue tiles made it look like a hospital, there was an old plastic curtain in the shower and the sink looked like it had been through a war but at least it looked clean. There was a strong smell of disinfectant that made you a little nauseous. You had changed quickly and returned to your room to Marcus who was sitting on the bed intent on calling his parents “Yes mom, everything is fine, we will be back tomorrow. Yes, sure, don't worry I'll definitely say hello to her, she's in her room now” You had noticed that he had not said anything about your misadventure, you had sat down smiling on the opposite side of the bed trying to be silent. 

Marcus had rolled his eyes closing the call “she is so old-fashioned.” 

You had laughed “I find her lovely” 

Marcus had chuckled “we'd better sleep, we have a lot of driving tomorrow. Are you okay with that side?”

“Yes, it’s fine” you had nodded ”however I'd rather get this bedspread out of the way, it gives me nightmares even when awake” 

Marcus had observed it agreeing that yes, it was rather eerie.

You had taken it off and laid it on the dresser before slipping under cold, scratchy and wrinkled sheets.

You looked at each other and burst out laughing, the situation was comical to say the least. “God, I think I won't forget this bed for a long time,” Marcus had said. 

“It feels like being in a burlap sack.” You had laughed.

“Could you not squirm like that?” 

“Sorry, I'm just looking for ways to be comfortable,” you had said, ”Mattress is lumpy.” 

You had laid on your side with your back to him and closed your eyes, trying to sleep. 

“So, did you have a good time?” you had heard Marcus whisper.

“Yes” you had replied “thank you” And it was true, his friends were really nice. You had bonded with the girls and exchanged addresses and phone numbers “you were right, I needed a vacation”

“I know, I'm always right” he had sentenced from the other end of the bed.  

You had turned to look at him "oh sure, like the other night when we ended up at that beach party and you said it was allowed and then we had to run away because the police were coming?”

“It was just a little misjudgment!” He retorted.

You had burst out laughing again “come on, sleep, Mr I know everything”

Marcus had turned off the lamp on the bedside table, next to the phone with which he had just called his mother “Hey...I need to tell you something” you had heard him say. 

“What?” the tone had suddenly changed and you felt confused, you looked over your shoulder at him in the dark. 

“I kissed Alice the other night” he seemed awkward in telling you and you didn't understand why.

“Oh. Well, good for you. She's a lovely girl” he was your friend, you were happy for him. 

If it weren't for the fact that you secretly hoped he would kiss you. You'd been thinking about it for a few days, ever since you'd seen him come out of the water while you were at the beach.

It had seemed to you that everything had started moving in slow motion, your eyes glued to his tanned skin, to his broad shoulders, to the way the water slid over his chest in little droplets that died on the waistband of his swimsuit. It was a feeling you had never experienced before in five years of knowing him. You had never seen Marcus as anything more than a friend, but in that moment, with his hair disheveled, his skin wet, a smile plastered on his face as he told you and the others that ocean was great, he had seemed like a vision, and you had felt your cheeks heat up. 

Where on earth that attraction came from you didn't know, but it had hit you hard and clear, like a bump on the head that had suddenly awakened you. You had convinced yourself that your brain was doing this to protect you from painful memories with Derek, lingering on your closest friend who had never let you down. Your trust in men was at its lowest, and Marcus had always reassured you, kept you out of trouble, and he was most reliable guy you had ever known.

He said he would do something and he always, unfailingly did it. You could not say the same about Derek or any other guy you had ever been with.

You had tried to chase that feeling away, burying it in the corner of your mind for all the following days; you didn't want to ruin the friendship between you, and you were pretty sure he didn't feel the same way about you.

Sure, you thought you kissed him on your 18s birthday while you were drunk, but the next morning you were so ashamed that you hadn't even told him about it, pretended you didn't remember anything and that it had never happened. Marcus had done the same, and everything had ended there. Two years had passed since that night, you had gone to college, you had both had more or less long relationships.

That one kiss was now so far away that you had listed it among “once-in-a-lifetime mistakes.”

"I wanted to tell you, that's it. Friends tell each other everything, right?"

“Yes, of course, you can tell me anything, I’m happy for you” you replied 

You had listened to Marcus talk about the girls he liked dozens of times and you had never cared, you would have certainly forgotten it, it was just a passing crush, you told yourself. That annoyance you felt, that bitter taste in your throat, would disappear after a night's sleep. Your friendship was more important, you wouldn't have ruined it just because your brain had thought it interesting to make it something more.

Yet when you had tried to sleep all you had seen was Marcus kissing Alice. You had not seen them, fortunately, but it was not a hard scene to imagine, and unfortunately it was now implanted in your brain. His strong arms holding her, his soft lips resting on hers, her surrounding his neck with her arms, her pelvis rubbing against his. Suddenly you couldn't stand it. You had narrowed your eyes, cursing your creative mind, grunting in frustration. 

“Hey, is everything okay?” had asked Marcus from the other side of the bed.

You had lied, of course, but you had kept brooding until you fell asleep exhausted by the workings of your brain.

In the morning you had woken up confused, not at all rested, and in his arms.

Your face was resting on his chest next to your hand. How had you ended up there like that? You didn't know. You felt like you didn't know anything anymore. 

He was blissfully asleep. He seemed unaware of anything as your throat was dry, your head ached, and your pussy throbbed. Yes, throbbing, desperately. The warmth of his body, the scent of his skin, that knowledge you felt inside that this was exactly what you wanted and you couldn't even quantify how long you had wanted it.

And the panic that had seized you immediately afterward. You were convinced it was a mistake, the most terrible mistake you could make. So why did it feel so right? Why did his body feel like it was made for you? Oh no, no you couldn't allow that. Certainly he had no idea whatsoever about the situation, there was no way he was aware and let you do it, it was all your fault. 

You were going to ruin everything, your friendship, your relationship with the one man who really seemed to understand and support you. And for what? To fuck him once? It wasn't going to work between you romantically. You were going to have to spend two more years away seeing each other only during the holidays to begin with, and then you were both stubborn, too proud...no, it was wrong, you didn't care what your body told you, you had to let your brain prevail.

You slowly slipped away, back to your side of the bed, practically holding your breath, cursing yourself and your heart that wouldn't stop hammering in the middle of your chest.

He had woken up shortly after, acted as usual, getting up, stretching in his T-shirt and basketball shorts, mumbled good morning to you and locked himself in the bathroom. 

Your eyes had slid lasciviously over his body, stealing glances of his exposed skin between his T-shirt and shorts, of his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, of his thighs...

All while you wanted to sink into a black hole and disappear forever. You sank your face into the pillow to keep yourself from screaming. 

And what was worse was that you had to carry the burden of what you felt alone because the person you would normally talk to about it was the one you were longing for. Wonderful, a wonderful situation. 

When he had come out of the bathroom, with his beautiful smile and that rough voice that he always had early in the morning you almost lost control. You were about to beg him to join you in bed. Ugh, your 20s, uncontrollable, stupid, senseless hormones.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, go get dressed, we have to leave,” he had told you, in the same friendly and vaguely mocking tone as always. 

“Oh. yes, thank you, I promise I will be quick.” You had stammered.

You got up, grabbed some random clothes from your suitcase, your beauty case and went to the bathroom to shower and change. He would be ready in 10 minutes at most so he would always let you go to the bathroom first, to give you time to do your makeup and fix your hair. Marcus knew that about you, too, and he was okay with that. 

You closed the door behind you, feeling the tears stinging your eyes. You had managed to hold them back until that moment, but in the shower, covered by his of the water, they had flowed copiously and salty down your cheeks. 

____________________________________________

2000

“Hey! How are you! My goodness, long time no see!” 

You had met him at the supermarket, as you were going around the shelves intent on shopping for your mother. 

You were back at your parents' house for Thanksgiving with your husband, John. 

The last person you thought you would see was him. 

“Marcus!” you had squeaked.

“I am fine! How are you? And Danielle?” 

Your mother had taken it upon herself to inform you that he had also married, had no children, and had become a detective. 

“Danielle is just fine, she is right there down the aisle picking potatoes according to my mother's exact instructions,” he had rolled his eyes, chuckling.

Damn, you had thought, he's breathtakingly handsome. 

You hoped that in all the years you had lost touch with each other he would have lost at least some of his hair like his father, but apparently he had not inherited that gene. His hair was thick and healthy as usual, he wore a gray T-shirt under a black leather jacket and a pair of dark blue jeans. You hated the way he could put on two random things and look so damn perfect while you felt like you had spent your whole life in front of your closet wondering what to wear. And even more you hated his smile, so friendly and sweet, that it hadn't changed at all. 

He seemed genuinely glad to see you. 

You had lost touch with each other after graduation, despite the advent of cell phones, computers, and email. Your friendship had survived handwritten letters, postcards, prepaid phone cards but still crumbled eventually. You were on the opposite coast, intent on your master's degree, dreaming of becoming a writer; he was hooked on a career in law enforcement. 

The letters had become fewer and fewer, as had the phone calls, and eventually what was there had simply slipped away as the months passed, the commitments increased, and each of you tried to become the adult you had dreamed of being.

You had thought it was much better this way, you had stifled your feelings for him for another four years before accepting that nothing would ever happen. You had dated other guys in the meantime, but Marcus had always remained in your mind as the perfect guy you could never have. It was only when you had met John that you had allowed yourself to think that maybe it could work with someone who was not your old friend. He was understanding, sweet, supportive, present and caring with you. John was a really good guy and so you had finally decided to marry him. He had asked you one spring day at the Public Garden, while you were eating a lobster sandwich under a tree in front of the pond, watching the swans. Your offices were close by, so you tried to spend your lunch break together as often as you could. You had gotten a job at the Boston Globe, were in charge of the wedding column, and wrote romance novels in your spare time, sending manuscripts left and right in the hope that some editor would notice them. John was a stockbroker, pragmatic, punctual and very thorough in his work as much as he was sweet and attentive with you. 

“How about we get married?” he simply had said to you, with his mouth full. You had laughed, thought he was joking, until you noticed his serious and hopeful look and exclaimed “oh my God, yes!” throwing your sandwich in the air and wrapping your arms around his neck. That was all you wished for. You had moved in together in a beautiful house downtown, not very big but lovely, you had fallen in love with it as soon as you saw it. It was bright and warm, the right place to start your life with John.

You had, of course, sent an invitation to Marcus as well, but he had declined, saying he was very busy with work. You had kind of tied it on your finger and so you had decided that he might as well get out of your life after all. Times change, people change, all I can do is move on and try to forget how I feel about him by devoting myself to my relationship with John, you thought.

Now that you had him in front of you again though, he looked the same as he always did, only grown. And your heart had skipped a beat the instant you recognized his voice greeting you.

“How long do you plan to stay?” you had asked out of pure courtesy. 

“About a week, we were able to take a few days to relax a bit. We're always working like crazy, you know, we both needed to get away for a while. How about you?” 

“Yes, us too, by the way if you remember Sunday is my father's birthday and my mother really wanted us to be there.” 

“I guess. By the way, I'm sorry. My mother told me when we arrived.” 

Your father had been ill for several months and unfortunately there was little left to do at that point. He was slowly fading away and it would probably be the last Thanksgiving you would spend together.

“I thank you. Oh here's John. John this is Marcus, an old friend of mine. Marcus, this is John, my husband.”

“Nice to meet you, Marcus,” John had said, shaking his hand. 

“Honey, I'm done, shall we go?” had chirped Danielle's voice as she approached you. 

“Yes love, but first let me introduce you to an old friend of mine and her husband” Marcus had told her softly. 

“Oh it's you! Marcus has told me several times about you! It's nice to finally meet you in person.”

Danielle was beautiful, dark hair, blue eyes and delicate features, a little nose that looked as if it had been drawn by an artist, full lips, high cheekbones and a well-proportioned chin. Her voice was melodious and sweet and she looked at you with an excited and surprised expression, " He didn't tell me you were so pretty!" 

“Oh, thank you, you are too,” you had said, slightly embarrassed by such kindness. At that point John had held you proudly, as if you were his greatest prize. His arm had wrapped around your waist, and his eyes looked at you lovingly "didn't she? I'm lucky that she married me." 

Danielle had laughed graciously and shook his hand introducing herself, while you and Marcus looked at each other almost studying each other, as if you were both trying to figure out how happy you actually were in your marriages.

That habit of worrying about each other had not gone away; after all, you had been close friends for quite a few years, and your friendship had faded not because of a quarrel, but because of distance and becoming busy adults. And because you had to get over the crush you had on him, of course, but you had never told him that. 

“Well, we have to go now, anyway come and see us if you can. My mother would love to see you again,” Marcus had said before offering to push the cart full of food that his wife had left beside you and start toward the checkouts. 

“We'll try, thank you,” you had nodded. You definitely should have helped your mother, tried to soothe her at least a little from the strain of caring for your father 24/7; you didn't know how much more time would be left for other things. 

You had watched them walk off together from behind, down the canned food aisle where you had retrieved the ready-made cranberry sauce you would never have time to prepare. 

They were a good-looking couple, really, attractive, well-dressed, Danielle looking impeccable in a pair of jeans that bandaged her while highlighting her curves, a red blouse that matched her complexion, and a pair of vertiginous heels on which you didn't even know how to walk. She seemed to do it without any problem. 

“We should go too, honey” John's voice had brought you back down to earth. 

_________________________________________

Once home John had announced to your mother that you had met your old friend at the supermarket, and of course she was thrilled, “Oh, he's such a nice guy, I saw him and his wife the other day walking downtown, they are such a nice couple, aren't they?” 

John had agreed, taking a beer from the fridge “really” 

“Well, like you, of course” your mother had added, looking at you softly. 

And it was true, you were fine with John, he was a good person, a hard worker, he treated you like a princess. What more could you want? 

Yet since you had seen him again, Marcus's face had made room in your mind. The intrigued way he had looked at you, as if trying to understand everything that had happened to you in the years you had not been in touch, the way his arms were reaching out to embrace you when John had arrived, a barely imperceptible movement that only you had noticed because you knew him better than the palm of your hand, the dimple that had popped up on his cheek as he smiled at you, the usual one you had grown to love so much.

You had pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to drive it from your mind “Are you okay love?” had asked John immediately. 

“Yes, I just have a little headache, I'll get something later,” you had lied, hurrying to put away the rest of the groceries. 

What annoyed you the most was that it seemed like not a single day had passed since you were in your twenties and you had woken up hugging him in the bed of that dingy motel. It was absurd. You had worked so hard to move on and now it felt like you were back where you started. 

You couldn't let that happen, you wouldn't let your marriage be disrupted by a casual 10-minute meeting with him. 

You would not have gone to his house, no matter how much you would have liked to see his mother who had always been so kind to you. 

You had other things to think about anyway; your father was stuck in a hospital bed that you had managed to get him to be more comfortable. He had been put in the guest room on the ground floor, next to the bathroom, he couldn't do the stairs, and it was also easier for your mother to accompany him. The strong and generous man he had been was wearing out before your eyes, and it was a terribly painful image. You knew he had little time left, and you didn't want to waste it chasing the ghosts of the past when you had a husband who was helping you and hugging you every night trying to lessen your pain. 

Your Thanksgiving dinner had been unique to say the least, each of you shuttling from the dining room to your father's to spend some time with him, making sure he had everything he needed, helping him eat and drink. You had marveled at how gentle and patient John was with your dad, the big man you had married, one with two shoulders like a football player, feeding your father fruit jelly almost more gracefully than you. 

You knew how fond he was of your dad, they had hit it off right away, but you didn't know how much he was willing to sacrifice for him. You were moved.

___________________________________________

Your father was gone four days later. You and John were supposed to leave for Boston the next morning instead you had to call in to work, cancel your flight, call your trusty neighbor Marge to ask her to look at your house, pick up your mail, and water your plants. 

You were crushed and at the same time overwhelmed with bureaucracy so you couldn't stop. You had forgotten to eat breakfast that morning, got dressed in a hurry to go to the funeral home to deliver the suit with which you had decided to bury your father, then went to do some paperwork with the insurance company and finally to the church to arrange with the pastor the time of the service and the proceedings. When you left the church you felt an emptiness in your stomach, your head was spinning, you had eaten barely a sandwich in the last two days. 

You knew you were about to collapse, saw a café across the street from the church, and went inside to get a croissant and cappuccino to go. 

When you came out you found yourself in front of Danielle. She was so sorry, of course your mother had informed Marcus's mother and they would be attending the funeral. Danielle hugged you as if you were her sister, telling you that she understood you because she too had lost her father a few years earlier and even though you didn't know each other well you could have called her if you needed anything. 

You had thanked her and headed for the car, locked yourself in and took a couple of minutes to chug your croissant and drink your cappuccino. At least partially regenerated from the late breakfast you had headed back home, where John and your mother were waiting for you.

In the car you had been thinking about how kind Danielle had been and how lucky Marcus was to be with her.

The next day you had put on a sober black suit that you used for the office and probably wouldn't be able to wear again after that day, put on just enough makeup, helped John put on his tie, and headed for church with him and your mom. 

All three of you were exhausted, grieving, trying to hold the pieces together as best you could with each other's help but your dad's absence was hard to bear. You wished you could have woken up and found it had been just a nightmare, you wished you could have hugged him and talked to him and he, as he had always done, would have found the words you needed most.

There was only one other person who could soothe your worries in the same way your dad could, and that person was Marcus. 

John had been able to be there for you anyway, with actions more than words, taking tasks to take away from you, relieving you of burdens you could not carry alone, and for that you were infinitely grateful. He was a good husband. 

After the service, under his arm, you left the church behind your mother. You had lost count of the number of people who had come to hug you, faces you had never seen, work colleagues of your father's whom you had never met, old childhood friends, the church was full of people who had come to remember him fondly. This pleased you, but it was strange to you at the same time. You wished you had some time to yourself, alone, to try to catch your breath and rationalize at least some of what had happened, that blender of emotions that had shaken and sucked you in. 

You had made your way to the cemetery, walking along the path that led to the family grave where your grandparents were buried you had felt like you were in a muffled bubble where everything moved in slow motion, barely sensing John's presence beside you. 

When you had arrived, you had looked up for only a moment and before you had seen Marcus's. You had not noticed his presence in the church, busy as you were with hugging and greeting, you had seen only his mother but he had remained in the background, respecting your grief. Just as you wished others had done. There was nothing more to be said, he always knew what you needed, no matter how many years had passed, he could still read you like an open book just like when at 18 he had realized that your highest aspiration was to become a writer without even the need to make it explicit in words. 

His eyes were swollen and reddened; it was obvious that he was moved. Beside him was Danielle with a pair of dark glasses covering her face, clutching his arm elegantly and dignifiedly. 

You had smiled weakly at him, thanking him with your eyes, and he had smiled back, looking at you with the sweetest, sorriest eyes I had seen that day. 

___________________________________________

You had stayed behind to watch the final burial operations, while John had driven your mother back to the car, who had burst into convulsive tears, crushed by the realization that she had lost forever the man she had loved most in the world. 

You had felt a hand barely graze your shoulder, you had turned around and saw Marcus standing there on the grass “hey” As soon as you had seen him the impulse to hug him had come to you spontaneously, he had welcomed you into his arms, stroking your head, wrapping you against his chest, trying to comfort you. 

Being close to him still felt like home, his warmth immediately made you feel calmer, less alone, and not that John couldn't do that but with Marcus it was different. He had always been different in a way that was impossible to explain but that you felt hammering hard in your heart.

“Thank you,” you had whispered, with the tears you had finally allowed yourself to shed wetting your cheeks and his shirt. 

“Don't mention it,” he had whispered, continuing to hold you close. 

You had lingered a little longer in his embrace before pulling away and asking where Danielle was. 

"She went home with my mom. I stayed in case you needed anything.” 

“It's okay, thank you, there was no need,” you stammered lyingly. Yes you needed him, now more than ever, and he knew it well. 

“Your mother and John?” 

“Aunt Maggie drove them home, they left my mom's car with me.”

“Do you want me to drive?” she had asked and all you could do was nod ”please. But then how are you going to get back?” 

“I'll call Danielle, don't worry” he had encircled your waist with an arm as he walked you to the car. He had opened the door and helped you get in, even buckled your seat belt no matter how hard you had tried to insist you could do it yourself. 

Marcus did not spare himself when it came to caring for others. 

He had climbed up on the driver's side and in a rush had hugged you back, there, inside the car, whispering, “You don't know how sorry I am, baby. Your father was a great man.” 

You had looked at him gratefully, amid tears that had begun to flow profusely again "thank you" 

He had kissed you, right after that. And the instant his lips had rested on yours, you had felt that you could not help yourself no matter how hard you had tried to bury your feelings all those years. There was something inexplicable that united you, a way of understanding each other that needed no words, as if you were made to recognize each other, to see inside each other's souls. You had read in his eyes that day in the supermarket how much he had missed you, and he had read the same in yours, and just before that you had felt the same need to have him near, in spite of John, Danielle, and anything else that told you it was wrong. Deep inside you had always known it was right, you had felt it from the moment you first met him. You had been crowing for years about people talking about soul mates, meetings of destiny, and things like that. But now you knew you had felt it. His soft lips on yours were like honey to your soul, you wished you could sink into that feeling, drown in that sea and never rise again.

You couldn't leave John though. Not after you had built a life together in Boston, not after he had supported and cared for you all those days. Not after all he had done for you. 

As much as it hurt to do so, you pulled away from his lips. “I’ve always thought about you, all these years,” he said. “I’m sorry, you know, I didn’t realize it before, that maybe we could be something more. I never told you, but I remembered that kiss we shared when we were 18 very well.” Marcus was a torrent of words and was saying everything you’d always wanted to hear. “And I remember the night in that motel, too, how you held me in your sleep. I…” You knew he was about to say something like “I love you” “I’ve always loved you,” and so you cut him off. “Marcus.” He paused, his mouth half open as he looked at you in shock. “It’s too late. We can’t. Maybe there was a chance a few years ago, but now? We’re both married, we have responsibilities, we have to be realistic. It’s not fair to Danielle and John. And I have a job and a life in Boston, I can’t just leave everything all of a sudden.”

“But I…” and you knew he was about to say those words again. “Please don’t say that. Don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

Marcus had fallen silent, looking down at his hands draped over his lap, and then said sadly, “I understand.”

You had just lost your father and now you were losing him too. It wasn’t fair, but it was the only thing to do. “Take me home, please.” He would have started the car without saying anything, driving to your house without looking at you again, perhaps afraid that he wouldn’t be able to let you go if he ever laid eyes on you again. 

You got out of the car just saying thank you, without hugging him because you knew it would have hurt even more.

____________________________________

2008

When John had told you that you should move to Washington DC, you had not taken it well. You did not want to leave Boston, the bright home where you had begun to build your new life, that city that had welcomed you. Starting all over again somewhere else, in a city you had never been to, seemed too much. 

In the end, however, you had accepted it; leaving John seemed even worse. And he had continued to be a good husband, so you saw no reason to part with him.

After all, he had received a good promotion, he had rented a house where you had found a familiar light again, it had big windows, high ceilings, big rooms. John made good money and had tried to accommodate you in everything. 

He had made it worth it all the way.

You had been struggling a bit to fit into the editorial staff of the new newspaper you had found work for. You were aiming for the Washington Post, but they had totally bounced you, which had been no small disappointment to digest. 

However, after all, your life had regained some meaning. 

It was now six months since you had moved, you hadn't heard from Marcus in eight years. And this time it was not because of distance, but because it had really hurt you to find out that he felt something too but it never seemed to be the right time for you. It would have been in 1993 perhaps, if you had had courage, if you had taken the risk of exploring your feelings together. He hadn't had the guts to tell you anything, you were too afraid, and when you had found common ground it had immediately collapsed. 

John had noticed that something was wrong, even he knew you well enough to know that it pained you not to hear from your friend again, and at times he had even urged you to call him. You had told him that he had said something unpleasant about Danielle while you were in the car and you had felt sorry for her, from there you had started to argue. It was a really boorish excuse and you were pretty sure John hadn't bought it but had played it off for the sake of quiet life. 

“Can you stop by the bank to deposit this check this morning?” he had told you that morning before leaving the house. You were sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and enjoying your day off. 

“Sure,” you had answered him, ”I'll go there before I go to the laundry to pick up my dress for tonight.” 

“Mmm the burgundy dress with that dizzying neckline?” he had told you as he leaned over to give you a kiss 

“Just that one” you had smiled as you returned the kiss and caressed his cheek ”you like it huh?”

“I'm looking forward to tonight” he had chuckled before leaving the house with his briefcase ”I'll be home at 7 o'clock okay?”

“Perfect, I'll be ready” you had thrown him a kiss and then curled up in your chair, finishing your coffee and admiring the view of the waking city outside. 

It was your anniversary, and he was going to take you to dinner at a French restaurant you had heard about in enthusiastic tones from your discerning colleague who was a food and wine critic. 

You had dressed quietly, gone out to do your chores, had a manicure appointment, then gone to pick up your dress at the dry cleaners and finally to the bank. 

As soon as you had left the bank you had bumped into a guy. 

You had looked up and been stunned. 

Marcus.

How was that possible? 

“Oh shit,” he had exclaimed.

His hair was slightly longer, he had grown a mustache and a beard but it was him, there was no doubt about it, you would have recognized him in a thousand. 

"What are you doing here?" you had asked him, widening your eyes, without a hello or how are you or anything else, you were too shocked. 

He was the last person you expected to see on your anniversary. 

Marcus had brushed his hand behind his neck, the gesture he always made when he was embarrassed “I got a big promotion” in a tone as if to apologize for existing in the same state as you, in the same city as you, for coexisting in the same environment as you.

“Whatever...I have to go, anyway, have a nice life,” you had tried to say quickly, to disengage yourself from that surreal situation. 

You had already turned your back on him when you heard him say “no wait...please...would you like to have a cup of coffee?”

You had turned silently to look at him. He couldn't have been serious. Yet he was.

And looking into those big brown pleading eyes, for some reason you had not been able to say no.

“All right,” you had replied with a shrug, ”I'll give you half an hour, then I'll have to go home.”

You went to sit in a café around the corner and ordered a cappuccino.

"So how are you?" you asked absentmindedly. 

“Danielle and I broke up last spring.” 

“Oh. I'm sorry.” It was like a blade through the chest to hear his voice again, to hear him say that he was single again and that his marriage was over. Somehow it made you feel guilty even though after eight years it was unlikely that the main reason for their breakup was you. 

“Yeah...she wanted children and for a while we tried but...” 

“Marcus please, I don't care, it's your business because it's over,” you cut off. 

You didn't have to get involved again. When you had thought back to your father's death and how he had confessed right afterwards you had been angry with him. Why had he done it at that time when you were so particularly vulnerable? It wasn't fair. 

"Sorry I-" he had babbled.  

“Never mind, never mind,” you had interrupted him again with a hand gesture. “Look, let's talk straight once and for all” you didn't know where all that aggression was coming from but it was growing inside you inexorably, like an infection ”why the hell are we here?” 

He had lowered his gaze to his cappuccino, then brought it back to you and stared at you in a way that made you feel naked and helpless. He still had an effect on you, and it pissed you off. “I miss you,” he had admitted under his breath, ”I miss talking to you and I miss having you around. I miss everything about you. When I saw you I couldn't believe it. But I know I can't let you leave without clearing things up.” 

“There's nothing left to clear up. It's over Marcus, can't you see that? There was never a right time for us.” 

“That's not true, I-” 

“Stop it! Look, I'm trying to live my life, you do it too,” you had screeched

“But-” 

“No 'buts'... Marcus, I'm tired. I'm tired of this running into each other and don't tell me it's fate because it's just pure randomness. John was transferred for work, now we live here, end of story. I'm still with him, okay? And I'm happy, so please leave me alone.” 

You could see his clenched fist on the coffee table, his eyes glazed with tears, his Adam's apple jumping as you mentioned John. He looked devastated. It was no longer your business anyway, so you had gotten up and made to leave, leaving a bill on the coffee table. “Don't look for me anymore.” 

Marcus had jumped up, his chair had fallen back crashing onto the pavement, and he didn't even seem to notice as he tried to stop you.

“Please” he had grabbed you by the sleeve of his jacket ”please.” 

You had turned back to him and looking into his eyes you had seen the little boy who asked you if he would ever be famous, the one who helped you with your homework, the 20-year-old who had involved you in the craziest vacation of your life, and then the adult who had broken your heart. 

“No.” you had whispered, ”no fucking way.” 

Marcus' face was a grimace of pain, as if in physical pain from your rejection, his shoulders hunched and his hand not letting go of you. He was pathetic and sweet at the same time.

His eyes were fixed in yours as he told you loud and clear, “I love you.”

I love you. 

You had longed to hear it come from his lips for so long that now it was like a lash that burned against your skin. You had stopped feeling like you were glued to the sidewalk, unable to take a step forward “What the hell! Did you have to tell me that? Was it necessary after I told you that I am still with my husband? Fuck, your timing is the worst thing ever. Do you know what day it is today? My wedding anniversary.” you had thrown up words at him angrily, feeling a knot in your stomach that nauseated you. 

“I don't want anything from you,” he had replied, his voice trembling, ”I just wanted you to know.”

“And now that I know according to you what have we solved? What have we gained? I'll tell you, absolutely nothing Marcus.” 

You had turned around and left, yelling at him, “I'll tell you again, don't ever look for me.” 

You had come home and taken a long hot bath, cried your last tears for him, and then decided it was John you had to think about, your special day. Marcus wasn't going to ruin it for you. You had prepared yourself carefully, put on the dress he liked so much, your favorite perfume, and waited for John. When he had come home you had driven out to a restaurant, had had a delicious dinner, sex as soon as you got home, and fallen asleep in his arms feeling that it was right. 

___________________________________

2010

“Love don't wait up for me, I'll be back late. I am so sorry, I love you.” 

It was already the fourth time in a week that he sent you such a message, by now John spent more time in the office than anywhere else. He had been given another promotion and was now mainly in charge of foreign exchanges, so he went to the office at impossible hours, came back later and later, and you barely saw him in the morning getting out of bed to jump in the shower. You hadn't had sex for at least a month, in those days you had talked more often with the mailman than with your husband.

Finally a publishing house had noticed you and they had published your book, you had gotten a chance to continue working for the newspaper by writing your articles from home so you could work on your second novel. 

You had huffed, looking at the screen, by now you were going to your friends' dinners alone, in those two years you had bonded with some couples in your neighborhood, and with a colleague from the newspaper and her husband. Every time you had been invited in the last three months John had declined, saying he had to work. 

You were beginning to feel really alone in your marriage, but you knew you had to try something. You still cared about John; you didn't want everything you had built together to be ruined. Sure, since he was earning more money he was showering you with unexpected and expensive gifts that certainly didn't make up for his absence, though. You had never been a materialistic person, no matter how beautiful the diamond bracelets and pearl necklaces and expensive shoes were, you missed falling asleep cuddled with your husband, feeling his caresses, having breakfast with him in the morning, spending a weekend together on the couch watching TV cuddling, simply spending time with him. For the past few weeks you had failed to write a word, you had hastily completed articles for the newspaper just to meet deadlines but your novel had stalled. You were busy cleaning to take your mind off things, you had joined the gym to force yourself to leave the house but then you would go back and find yourself spending entire evenings lounging around, not knowing what else to do. 

You had decided that night that you had to take matters into your own hands, put on a pretty dress, fixed your hair and make-up thoroughly, and then went out with the intention of surprising him. You were going to bring him his favorite dishes from your favorite Chinese restaurant to the office. 

When you had arrived at his workplace, you had looked up from the car window and seen the light on in his office. 

You had come down loaded with Chinese noodles and dumplings, and as you walked toward the entrance you had noticed his car parked not far away. 

You had taken the elevator with your heart in your throat, looking forward to seeing his happy face as he enjoyed a hot meal. The elevator had opened on the floor and you had started down the hallway leading to his office. There was no one there, everything was quiet and still, but the closer you got to his office the more you heard strange noises. Bellowing, hushed voices. 

The door was pulled over, you had pushed it slightly, and the scene that unfolded before your eyes was unsettling. 

Veronica, a married colleague of him whom you had met at the firm's Christmas party a few months earlier, was bent over John's desk, her skirt up, her panties down, her long legs covered by black hold-ups, her stilettos sinking into the Persian carpet under John's desk. And your husband holding her hips and sinking into her from behind. 

His shirt was hanging off his shoulders, his hair was disheveled, his neck tense and sweaty, as he stood there with his cool wool pants down, fucking his colleague. 

He grunted some words that you had never heard him say when you were having sex “Yeah, bitch, you like that huh? You like getting pounded by my cock huh? You're such a dirty slut, do you feel how wet you are for me?" 

You couldn't believe your eyes. Your sweet husband, the one who had stood by you so devotedly…where had that man gone? 

You dropped the bag with the Chinese dinner on the floor, the boxes had opened, and the noodles had spread all over the hardwood floor. “What the fuck?!”

John had turned around shocked, still with his cock inside his coworker “Oh shit. No, wait, honey I-” he had stepped out of her and tried to pull up his pants awkwardly ”please-fuck-I can explain.” 

“There's nothing to explain, you piece of shit!” you had yelled at him as he approached trying to stammer out some stupid excuse and had slapped him open-handed across the face as soon as he got in front of you ‘don't bother coming home’ you had added contemptuously.

“But love I-” he had pranced rubbing his cheek ”please-” 

“NO!” You had yelled “No, I don't want to hear your bullshit excuses, I don't want anything more to do with you, you disgust me!”

Veronica was standing in the corner buttoning her blouse and pulling down her skirt without meeting your gaze, her face hot and guilty.

Everything that you had sacrificed for that relationship, how you had followed him and reinvented your life for him, adapting to his needs, trying to build a happy nest for the two of you in Washington, all had been swept away. He had stomped on your marriage, your trust, your heart. 

You had driven home crying, risking missing a red light, had nailed down at the last moment with your heart bouncing inside your chest like a jackhammer. You had walked into the house throwing your purse and coat on the floor, throwing your shoes in the middle of the hallway and throwing yourself on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow with your head bursting, a sense of helplessness and defeat enveloping your temples, your chest, your stomach. 

It was over.

John had never come home, you had learned through his lawyer that he had rented an apartment near his office, and a week later he sent three big guys from a moving company to pick up his things.

You couldn't stay in that house anymore. Everything reminded you of him, the lies he had been telling you for months and what was even worse, all the happy moments you had lived in there in spite of yourself. 

You were dragging yourself from room to room without strength, you hadn't written anything anymore, you had told the editor of the newspaper that you were sick to have an excuse to delay the deadlines for your articles. 

You were tired, you were angry, you lacked the will to do anything, after three days without seeing you leave the house your friend Denise, who lived across the street had called you alarmed to see if you were all right, and hearing your dejected, fading voice had decided to use the keys you had given her in case of an emergency to come and check on you in person. 

You had not been able to lie to her; you had burst into tears and told her everything as soon as she asked you where John was. 

From that day she had been by every day bringing you dinner, making sure you ate, forcing you to shower, tidying up. You didn't know what you had done to deserve Denise in your life but you were incredibly grateful that she was there. 

Gradually you had forced yourself to take charge of your life again, started going out again pushed by your friends and even moved house, encouraged by them. You couldn't turn over a new leaf without getting out of there. 

And you had especially realized that you could walk with your head held high; you were not the one who had to be ashamed. 

And looking back on it, you had really overcome a lot in the last few years. The loss of your father, Marcus, your husband. All the men who had meant something to you in your life. 

You could have been proud that you did your best to stay on your feet. 

________________________________________________________

2011 

It had been a year since you had discovered John screwing his colleague.

You had tried dating men, without success, but things were going very well professionally. You had finally managed to finish your second book, and the publisher had been extremely pleased, so much so that he had arranged a series of meetings for you at bookstores around the country.  You had just returned from Ohio when you got a call from your mother inviting you for Christmas.

You had no desire to return to Sacramento, but how could you say no to your mom? She was left alone and it had not been easy for her. Your aunt and uncle lived nearby and took care of her but she had said she missed you a lot.

And she was so proud of you, she had asked you for copies of your books to give to all her friends, she was your biggest fan. You were happy to see her and spend time with her. 

And so, there you were at the airport, with a big suitcase, ready to get on yet another plane and fly across the country. 

You had just gotten an upgrade to business class and were in the private lounge of the area airline ordering yourself a martini when you heard a familiar voice behind you calling your name. 

Marcus. Again. 

“I swear I'm not following you,” he had raised his hands in surrender. 

“I know. I haven't seen you in three years, and we live in the same town.”

You had smiled; it wasn't bad to see his face again after all. 

“Martini?” He had asked pointing to your glass 

“Yeah. Can you please make another one?” You had said turning toward the bartender. 

You had sat at a small table with your cocktails “Are you going to see your mother?”

You had nodded, “You too?” 

“Yes, my parents were very insistent. Where is John?” 

“I have no idea,” you had squeezed into your shoulders taking a sip of your martini. 

“Oh, did you break up? I'm sorry, he seemed like a good man,” he had said.

“Apparently he wasn't since he was cheating on me with one of his colleagues.” 

“You should have better judgment anyway, aren't you a detective?” you had asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at him wryly 

Marcus had burst out laughing, “You're right, I should.”

And he had told you about the time he had fallen in love with someone named Teresa, a colleague of his, and had been left like a poor idiot the previous year, without realizing that she was in love with someone else. 

“It wasn't your fault, you know,” you told him sweetly, ”I know how you get when you have a crush.” 

“How do I become?” he had asked you with a sigh.

And you had replied with a smirk “Well, if you must know...naive, head in the clouds, like you live in a world of unicorns and fairies” 

“Really? A ridiculous clown? Is that what I become?” he had chuckled and then turned serious again ”Not with you, I hope”

You had laughed, you could have laughed at that point. Or maybe it was just the martini clouding your mind. 

“Whatever,” you had rolled your eyes. 

“Well, I'm sorry,” he had muttered.

“It's okay” you had smiled ”Really.”

At that moment they had announced boarding for your flight, so you had hurried to the gate together. 

You were both in business, so eventually you had sat next to each other and continued chatting. 

And it was nice, really nice. You were both single, more aware, you had reached an age where you could be honest with yourselves and you could joke about your dramas. 

“So you had noticed that I had hugged you that night huh?” 

“Sure. You pounced on me in my sleep and woke me up. I didn't want to embarrass you so I played it cool” she had smiled ”I thought you were sleepwalking and dreaming of hugging Keanu Reeves or whatever.” 

You had burst out in the loudest laugh you had had in years and then covered your mouth embarrassed that you had disturbed the other passengers. Fortunately those in your vicinity all had headphones on and were watching a movie. 

“Oh, come on” you had tapped his shoulder and then taken by you don't know what courage-probably the second martini you were downing-you had said ”the only one I dreamed of hugging was you.” 

“I didn't realize this until later...Now is there anyone you would like to hug by any chance?” he had whispered in your ear.

“Actually...yes” 

And there, in that plane, you kissed. For the first time without hindrance, without remorse, without drama, without fear. “I love you” he had whispered on your lips, and you had responded, finally free to say it ”I love you too.”

“So we'll try this time?” he had caressed your cheek, sliding his hand down your neck. 

“Yes” You had said ”definitely yes.”

“Your mother will be delighted” he had smiled, kissing you again “it's going to be a great Christmas.”

“Well, Merry Christman then” you whispered as your mouth moved down his neck.

“Merry Christmas, baby”

[utilitycaster]

Inspired actually by me nonstop thinking about the Young Witch Solving The Disappearance Of Her Neighbor's Cat In The Alps tweet since last night and a number of other unrelated posts I have been thinking about the concept of maturity in media, because I think there's a lot of different dimensions to that. It's a series of spectra, rather than a binary, and if you use the terms "mature" or "immature" you can quickly realize that a lot of our societal metrics for what's adult-appropriate vs. child appropriate are very skewed in specific and in my opinion untrue and unhelpful directions. This could honestly be a 10 page essay and I may very well write that when I'm on break but just to give you my outline here:

Stimulation - is it grabbing your attention with bright lights and loud sounds and fast action, or do you have to actively focus? Action films can be just as "jangly keys" as children's animation despite being an "adult" work, whereas something like Mad Men can have vivid colors but would bore a child to tears in terms of pace and action. However, and this will be an ongoing theme, you can have a very choppy, fast-paced narrative that is complex and a very slow and dull one that is incredibly simple and childish.

"Ratings" Subject Matter: Sex/Violence/Profanity. This is the one I think is most misleading, because you can have an incredibly puerile R-rated film, and you can have an immensely complex narrative without any of the above. [note: I have zero patience for people who act like sex and violence are inherently unnecessary wastes of time; they are merely things within a narrative that can be executed well or poorly, but it is true that something can have a simple plot and constant bright lights and stimulation and essentially be big old jingling mobile for infants but there's a sex scene in it so it's Adult Now. Unfortunately a lot of people are like "and this is why YA is inherently better" which we shall see is not the case.]

Other Difficult Subject Matter (I don't have a good name for it, but to give examples, death, racism, genocide, abuse, serious or chronic illness, etc). This one is tricky because all of the above are topics present in works for quite young children, because they can experience all the above or have someone close to them experience them, and fiction is a powerful teaching tool. Obviously the nature of how this is presented varies, and later points will cover it, but while in my opinion the simple presence of these topics says nothing about the work's level of maturity on its own I'm including it because you do get people who think that children should be shielded from all the above and would consider the mere inclusion of those topics as inappropriate. They're wrong, but it's definitely an axis of judgement/categorization that exists.

Adult-level processing of information (probably a misnomer in that teens can do this but like, teens read adult books all the time, and as Tumblr has shown us, many adults cannot do this): does the narrative require you be able to pick up on subtext? Do you need to understand what is relevant to the story and what isn't? Do you need to be comfortable with or at least able to tolerate not knowing entirely what is going on right away? Do you need to have a sense of irony? Is there an unreliable narrator?

Adult-level processing of moral complexity (in my limited, not a parent or educator experience, I honestly think teens do better with the information processing than this, ie, this is one of the last things to develop; also Tumblr is even worse): does the narrative require you accept that sometimes things are unfair and will never be fair? Do you need to accept a story in which the Quote Unquote Bad Guys walk free without real consequence? Do you need to accept a story in which no one's actions are entirely defensible or in which no choices are easy and clean and harmless? Do you need to attempt to understand an alien perspective? Is there senseless tragedy? This incidentally is how you separate out the children's books from the adult books on topics like illness or catastrophic events; a lot of children's books end with a message of "it's hard and sad, but it will be okay eventually" and focus on very relatable POV characters which is understandable! But, to use an example as someone who went to a Jewish school with a robust Holocaust education, elementary schoolers read Number the Stars in which the (entirely fictional) Jewish family escapes to Sweden; middle schoolers read Night in which Wiesel's (real) father dies painfully in front of him.

None of this is to say that escapism/cozy fiction/whatever you want to call it is bad - I am not interested in a diet entirely made of thorny moral quandaries and no happy endings. I enjoy a stupid turn off your brain action movie, or a fluffy romantasy. But I do think that a demand that every ending be happy and that Justice Be Served in every story is no less immature than saying "ew, there's kissing in this???"

[monokoitari]

I'm thinking this idea so hard that I definitely have to write it down, but shit!! It's hard for me to capture Shen Yuan's chaotic vibes in a good narrative way

So it begins like this: Shen Yuan transmigrates. Not into Shen Qingqiu. He opens his eyes and there are two massive tits crushing him, a luxurious room, a garish and bitchy System with kaomojis. Well, he's a wife. A Binghe's wife.

Shen Yuan wants to run away, obviously. Get his penis back, get his MASCULINE MALE MANTASTIC body back, and get as far away from Binghe and the harem and their shitty dramas as possible. He doesn't need that, no thanks. The System obviously doesn't let him. [ You're a wife, user!!! You must behave like the original goods until you collect enough points to unlock the OOC!! ]

And the shit begins. Little harem dramas. Uncovering clues like silly children's puzzles. Shen yuan is fed up, bored, moody, hated by many wives (apparently the original goods were not in good standing. Half-demon, which is good- more power and more strength when escaping!!, but not for a harem wife. Especially since that body is 5'10" and is strong as a sword instead of submissive and bendable like the other sweet wives).

Even though the System keeps putting him in shitty situations, the truth is that there is no trace of Binghe during the first week. Nor the second. By the third, Shen Yuan gets a little worried. According to the current storyline, he shouldn't be far away... No wars, no new wives, just a missing Binghe. Shen Yuan snoops around Binghe's office with such bad luck that Binghe definitely shows up at that moment.

And Binghe looks... Tired. He's tired and grumpy, treating the wife with ice-cold kindness, and Shen Yuan treats him back. It's not that he wants to! It's not that he's offended to see his favorite and be horrible to him! It's the fucking shitty System! If Shen Yuan could, he would be on his knees before Binghe being pathetic and pitiful to ensure his protection!!

But he can't. Binghe sends him away after a cold and hostile encounter and Shen Yuan runs away in a dignified manner (running after the corridor where Binghe can't see him anymore is different).

The next morning, Shen Yuan makes a plan: he will do whatever it takes to get his last damn twenty points to activate OOC mode and get the hell out. Nope, no more Binghe for him. One taste was enough. Thanks but no thanks.

What gets complicated is when one of Binghe's personal servants!!! goes to his room. Binghe is inviting this lady wife to have breakfast with him. And Shen Yuan... He can't say no. Partly because of the System, partly because of the ambition for points, partly because he wants to try Binghe's food. And because he wants to... see Binghe. Again. He's his favorite, okay, don't judge him, maybe Binghe was just tired and being hostile to him. The duties of an Emperor are many and Shen Yuan was invading his private territory. Aaaaand he's a wife, after all, he can't treat him like that aaaaaall the time...

Binghe's breakfast is a delight. In his month at the palace, he has eaten nothing more delicious. Binghe is darkly charming: Shen Yuan asks about her (him), how she (he) is, how she (he) has been. Shen Yuan learns two things: the original goods had only been in the harem for a month and week when Shen Yuan usurped his body, and Luo Binghe doesn't know much about his wife, which means he can improvise answers without losing his in-character personality. The System even gives him +5 points for improvising!!

... +5 points that go to hell when Luo Binghe exposes a scroll on the table. Written in the original goods handwriting... it's a divorce application!!

"I was in my office" says Binghe as the System takes 50 points from him of a blow.

Of course Binghe is going to be wrong now. Of course he is believing that Shen Yuan filed for divorce the day before, when he found him in his office!! Damn original goods, why divorce Binghe!? Does divorce even exist in PIDW!? WHY!?

Shen Yuan makes up excuses, loses at least 20 more points, makes up more things again and sadly crawls with only 15 points in his favor and a rather furious Binghe.

Why does this wife want to abandon Binghe? This emperor has been kind, does this wife want something different? Shen Yuan makes up that he never imagined being married to an absent husband, capable of making him feel so lonely in a nest of other lonely women... And Binghe seems genuinely affected by it. Ah, loneliness, the weapon Binghe knows firsthand. An isolated and caring newcomer, being mocked and humiliated by others, seeking to remain resilient. Binghe, this one promises that he didn't use your past traumas on purpose!!

Binghe promises that he will change her (his) mind. He will be a present husband and make her (him) feel comfortable. Which makes Shen Yuan's escape plans go to fuckin hell. Bye bye, xianxia male body! Hello, another weeks of back pain from huge boobs!

And Binghe delivers on his promise, unfortunately. What's it costing you to be a normal man and forget your promises every day, damn protagonist!!

Shen Yuan wakes up with breakfast from Binghe, continues his day with walks with Binghe, ends his afternoon with dinner with Binghe, and dodges the papapa like a champ. Binghe is patient, considerate. Their conversations are charming, but Shen Yuan can see him... Sad. There is an old braid in his hair and deep dark circles under his eyes. Binghe looks exhausted, wasted, and when he thinks Shen Yuan isn't looking, his face shows so much sorrow that Shen Yuan wants to comfort him.

There's not much he can say. Get some random points - holding Binghe's hand at the right moment, discussing an important point about a creature and a hunt, giving recommendations how to best deal with eastern bear demons... Binghe seems to appreciate his company beyond the call of duty, which makes Shen Yuan a little proud. He's spending time with his favorite fictional boy without screwing up.

Then his body gets sick.

Xianxia World! Cultivation! Magic! Nothing? Shen Yuan wakes up with his head spinning like he's just stepped off a roller coaster, vomiting pathetically into an empty vase. The nausea is not getting better. His headache is horrible.

The System offers him to buy a skip plot; it comes out the same points that Shen Yuan has and he has tried hard not to spend them, a ridiculously large amount of points just to avoid a stomach infection. It's hard to complete side quests with the protagonist attached to his hip! Shen Yuan drops the skip plot.

The System insists. If he doesn't skip the plot now, he won't be able to do so in the future. Shen Yuan ignores it again. It's a silly illness. Nothing a little rest won't help.

... a little rest won't make it better.

Shen Yuan is thankful that Luo Binghe is not in the palace on his mission in the east, because he can be fully pathetic. He barely eats, faints from hunger, but as soon as he puts something in his mouth his stomach expels it. Damn demented body, do you want to eat only Binghe's food so much!? Spoiled body.

Shen Yuan sleeps a lot, sobs a lot in pain, growls (his body can growl. It's interesting) to the servants who come to clean, he takes cool showers that relieve his headache, and continues to expel every crumb.

He thinks he was even poisoned. He doesn't let the harem doctors get close. Mostly because he doesn't know them, but also because he remembers a subplot about a doctor who poisoned Binghe's wives to get revenge because Binghe had refused to take his daughter (for reasons that were entirely valid for Shen Yuan: she was a girl of barely twelve years old) in marriage and she had run away from home to avoid the humiliation. The plot ended with the girl hiding in the doctor's basement, who had made everything up, Binghe making a gore chapter out of it to remember the old days, and adopting the little girl to be raised among his many children in the harem... A good subplot for Shen Yuan, without unnecessary papapa even if it was for two chapters and followed by a threesome with massive busty demons.

Shen Yuan doesn't want to take any chances to unlock some gore subplot. So he just endures his nausea and pain until it fades about two weeks later. Suddenly it's bearable. He can snack on fruit and some roasted seeds. Some flavors are still intolerable to him... some smells too. He feels nauseous at the strongest, or even mildest, smells, but if they are too sweet he must run away. And textures on his skin. And tunics squeezing him. And his fucking huge tits hurt. They hurt like, like they're going to burst or break his cleavage. He even believes that from one day to the next they look bigger if that is possible. Wearing clothes is annoying. Having a body is annoying. Is this some fucking PMS that Shen Yuan didn't want to live with?

Wasn't it a ferocious body of a half-demon with a high cultivation level?? Why is he having PMS? He hasn't... bled since he came into this world!

...

. . .

He hasn't bled since he came to that world. The wedding (papapa of the original goods with The Heavenly Pillar) was almost three months ago. Shen Yuan has been occupying that body for almost two months.

...

. . .

That's not fucking happening.

"System, what the hell!?"

[ User was given the opportunity to buy a skip plot! User rejected it!!! (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠) Congratulations on making it through the first trimester in a healthy way!!! ]

Fucking shit.

[futurepastme]

Unmatched II

[Soulmate Au] [Act.I]

I hope I remembered to tag everyone who asked: @luflorysblog @valewright67 @schweetheart @funkiemoon @xs-crit-hit @dancingpieces @jellytamalies @shana-rosee @purpuraffe @saladscream @princess-of-morkva @orliththedragon @clairebonnefoy @enjaami @hakka84 @evedaser @tabbycat105 @guiltyscarlet @just-wandering-in-my-mind @percyspencer @tonystarkdeservesthewholeworld @thedollopheadofcamelot @amostunpleasantpeasant @toomanyfanficsbruh @braziiis @lottelorelei @acey-lacey @leana316 @the-sun-is-also-a-star @styxhuntress @rem-the-moth @caraspud @kintsugikid-moonysversion @beebsnas @221b-bitch-st @eat-a-handful-of-bees @highest-brightness @generouswolfdetective @read-write-thrive @0happyeverafter0 @lab-trash @faithiikins @musichooman

Act.II: Arthur Pendragon

Time seemed to pass very quickly for those who were part of the Royal Household. From feasts to meetings, from knights’ training and patrols to simple everyday tasks, everyone seemed to always have their hands full with their daily duties.

No one, though, had their hands fuller than Prince Arthur himself, who had recently risen to the position of Prince Regent after his father's sudden illness, which followed the unexpected reappearance of the now Princess Morgana Pendragon.

While the Prince was not yet King, Camelot already showed small but significant differences from King Uther's reign. Not only had he completely ceased public executions, but he had also stopped actively hunting magic users. And the most shocking and scandalous decision of all: Prince Regent Arthur Pendragon had started to knight commoners.

That brought new faces to Camelot, such as Sir Lancelot and Sir Gwaine to name a few, but also many others that came not only for the possibility of becoming a knight, but for the curiosity of what Camelot had to offer under the hands of a younger almost-King.

The new influx of people came with the additional benefit of bringing soulmates together. Wherever you went you could hear the stories of couples finding each other, and if you were lucky you could stumble upon a wedding celebration or two.

The newly soulmatched also contributed to the changes in Camelot. A lot of them stayed, choosing to continue their lives in the Kingdom, but a good few decided to leave, following their soulmates to whatever kingdom they called home.

As a consequence, many shops were closed and houses were abandoned, however, new ones appeared in their place with brand new couples and families. The old tailor shop became a bakery, the lower town butcher became a smithy, and young Gillis’ house turned into a carpenter shop accompanied by the carpenter's whole family.

Camelot was thriving under Arthur's Regency, and all that the people could think about was what would the Kingdom look like when he took the throne for good, knowing that no matter what the future brought, they would be safe in the good hands of their future King.

“I don't know what I’m doing.” A loud ‘clank’ resonated through the chambers when Arthur's head hit the table, hard enough to make the ink pot jump and to ruffle some sheets.

“Have you ever, though?”

“Shut up, Merlin!” Came the muffled response from the Prince, who still had his head pressed against the table top.

“C'mon, share with the room. What's wrong this time?” Merlin made his way across the room and sat himself on top of the table, next to Arthur's head. He had to resist the urge to run his fingers through Arthur's hair, which looked particularly soft today.

Arthur turned his head enough to lay it sideways on the table — his cheek squished against the wood — and raised his eyes to Merlin's.

“You are sitting on the prince's table.”

“I don't know, he doesn't look very princely from here.” Merlin smiled. Arthur looked very cute when he was pouting.

“Why are we friends again? I don't seem to remember.”

“You're deflecting.”

Arthur sighed and straightened up, only to sag back on his seat. He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling it a little bit. The gesture, somehow, soothing his nerves.

He let his hand fall on the arms of his chair and looked through his window. It was a sunny day and he could almost feel the kingdom buzzing with activity.

He looked back at Merlin and his watchful eyes.

Since the day, many moons ago, when Merlin opened up about his soulmate and completely broke down in front of the prince, Arthur had made a conscious effort to be more vulnerable around Merlin and let him see his emotions as they were — just like Merlin did then.

While this would never replace the connection and unity one finds in their soulmate, Arthur hoped that Merlin could find some comfort in having a friend who trusted him like that. Besides, to Arthur, it seemed only fair to repay Merlin with the same amount of trust he’d placed in Arthur that day.

Eventually, though, Arthur found out that he liked to share his feelings with Merlin. More than once he was overcome with the sudden need of telling him everything.

At some point, before that night but after they became friends, Arthur had learned to share with him the more worrisome matters and to trust Merlin's advice.

But now Arthur found it so easy to just open up to him. His fears and torments, his insecurities and moments of self doubt, his frustrations. As well as his hopes and dreams, and tiny moments of joy he felt during the day.

Feelings were not something that existed in Uther's Princely agenda, so Arthur grew up crushing them and putting them aside, treating them as a weakness. But Merlin had found his feelings and hugged them with his words, he held them with care and encouraged Arthur to nurture them.

He showed Arthur that he didn't have to be ashamed about them, at least, not with him.

So Arthur told him everything that troubled his heart.

“I’m…” he paused to breathe in, “I'm concerned, Merlin. I fear the choices I'm making are for my personal interest instead of for the good of the kingdom.”

“And what choices did you make that were for your personal interest? Please enlighten me.”

“Morgana, for one.”

“Ah, yes,” Merlin nodded and leaned forward. “The very selfish decision of supporting your sister when she was afraid your father was going to kill her. How could you?” He smirked, Arthur frowned.

“People have been leaving. More than 10 shops closed down just this last season.” Arthur tried again.

“And twelve more opened in their place.”

“The lack of public executions display a weak front to our kingdom, one with a lenient ruler that is too inexperienced to do what’s necessary. My way of ruling welcomes enemies to our doorsteps and might just be Camelot’s downfall.”

“Ah! So that’s what this is about.”

Arthur crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.

“That’s not what you really think, you’re just quoting Lords Weird Moustache, Crooked Nose and Hairy Ears.” He numbered them on his fingers and finished with a smirk.

Arthur's frown deepened. “Lord Randall, Lord Belemy and Lord Tirswell have always been great assets to my father and have proven to be loyal men throughout his entire reign.”

Merlin huffed in annoyance. “Hairy, Nose and Moustache are your father's biggest old farts!”

“Merlin!”

Merlin crossed his arms. “You are so concerned about the good of the kingdom, when was the last time you've seen your people?”

“The last public hearing was—”

“No, no, no. No!” Merlin interrupted. “Public hearings are great to hear your people's problems, but when was the last time you've been with them? Like, among them?”

“Well, I…” Arthur opened his mouth but no words came out. He looked through the window again, the kingdom still buzzing.

It was true, since he became Regent he had been so focused on not disappointing anyone, that he hadn't had the time to walk through his kingdom.

It's not that he didn't want to, but with the whole Morgana-has-magic-and-is-his-blood-sister and his father falling in his unresponsive state, he had his hands full since before the council even agreed on his regency.

He was pulled out of his thoughts with the sharp sound of a clap coming from Merlin's direction.

“That settles it, then.” He jumped out of the table, filled with excitement. “Today we're having a stroll down the lower town.”

“We have a council meeting in two hours.”

“Which gives us over an hour, c'mon! Move your fat ass out of this chair.” Merlin started pulling him.

Arthur fought him, letting his body weigh him down on the chair.

It's not like he wouldn't follow Merlin, but he had to show some resistance. Imagine if Merlin knew how easily ready Arthur was to follow him anywhere. Unacceptable.

Besides, he liked this dance of theirs. Where Arthur weakly tried to stop him, and Merlin manhandled him into doing his bidding. It was fun.

That's how Prince Arthur spent his early evening walking around the lower town in the company of his servant.

They visited the new shops and spoke with the people about the old ones. They saw busy people running to do their duties and children playing, and at some point they walked past a rather loud door, full with cheers, laughter and music.

“Excuse me,” Merlin stopped a flushed lady that came out of the noisy building. “What's the occasion?”

“Oh, it's wonderful!” She started with a big smile. “The tailor's daughter found her soulmate last week, they just split the coin! The whole street was invited for the celebration.”

“That is wonderful, indeed!” Merlin smiled at her.

“Oh, they should be leaving any minute now.”

Just as the woman said, two young women walked out of the door holding hands, with a cheering crowd following after. One of them Merlin recognized as the tailor's daughter, Marigold. The other had auburn curls and crooked teeth, and Merlin had never seen her around before.

They smiled and waved to the crowd, hands always interlocked, and everytime their eyes met, the absolute happiness and overwhelming love they felt for each other was clear for everyone to see.

While everybody watched as the couple left on a horse, Arthur kept his eyes on Merlin.

He saw that the small corner smile he had on when the girls left the building, slowly faded as the horse rode away. His soft, gleaming eyes turned sad, and Arthur recognized the longing in them.

He wondered how many times Merlin would have to watch other people's happy ending, knowing he would never get his.

Arthur brought his hand to Merlin's shoulder in a friendly manner, “that was lovely, but we do have a room filled with old farts to get to.”

That made Merlin smile again, his eyes crinkling “So you admit they are old farts, then.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

The meeting proceeded as usual, so did the week. Uther's council was still skeptical of Morgana's presence and of Arthur's leadership, postponing his ascension as King for another season — even though Uther continued in his unresponsive state, his mind completely gone from this world.

Then there was Agravaine, who allegedly came to help Arthur, but whom Merlin couldn't really trust. The man seemed to be loyal enough, but too on the fence about most things for Merlin's taste.

Either way, life moved on. Knights trained, servants worked, meetings were had, and public hearings continued to open the court to the people's problems.

It was one of those hearings that brought Prince Arthur, Merlin, and three of Uther's knights on patrol close to the border of Mercia. Rumours of mysterious disappearances and shadow men that came out of nowhere, putting fear on the hearts of the nearby villagers.

Somewhere along the way, between Merlin and Arthur's banter and Uther's Knights' chatting, they found themselves caught in an ambush.

At first they all thought it was a normal bandit attack. Merlin himself even went as far as thinking it as the ‘annoying weekly bandit encounter’ before going to ‘hide to safety’ and start dropping branches on their heads.

One after the other, the knights of Camelot fought their way through the seemingly endless group.

It seemed, though, as if while their numbers got smaller, the bandits’ skill increased. The fight kept getting harder in a way it hadn't been in a long while, but eventually it ended.

Arthur looked around, taking in his men and then the defeated bandits that lay on the ground. He listened for a second, and once he deemed the area safe, sheathed his sword. “Is everyone alright?”

He did a quick once over of his knights, checking them for injuries. When he was satisfied, he turned to where he last saw their horses, hoping they would be close by.

Arthur was mid step when he realized how quiet it was. No rustling of leaves, no loud footsteps, and the worst of all, no complaints followed by a thousand ‘I told you so.’

He turned around, “Merlin, you can come out now.”

The knights stopped what they were doing, and listened. As the seconds passed without an answer, the quietness of the place got louder.

Arthur's heartbeat resonated in his head.

“Merlin!” He marched to where he last saw him hiding, making his way through bushes and thick tree trunks.

Ba-dump

Merlin wasn't there. Instead, Arthur found tracks.

Ba-dump

The tracks showed that someone was dragged away, but there were no signs of struggle, the person didn't seem to have fought their capturers.

Ba-dump

Arthur signed for his knights to follow him, his eyes focused on where the track would lead them.

Ba-dump.

They followed the tracks for a while, until they got to what looked like the entrance of a glade. Arthur signed to his knights again, sending them in opposite directions around the edge of the glade.

He focused on calming his heart while waiting for them to be ready.

Merlin would be alright. Arthur would know if he wasn't.

Once the knights were positioned, Arthur prepared himself before giving the signal for them to move, following the last of the tracks.

Ba-dump

Once they got there, Arthur was astounded with the horrific vision that greeted them at the end of the trail.

Nothing.

Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump

He got closer to where the track ended to make sure — legs marching quickly and feet crunching leaves, — but the trail ended right there in the middle of nowhere. It was like whatever left those dragging marks had completely vanished in thin air.

Ba-dump, Ba-dump, Ba-dump

He went back and forth a few times to be absolutely certain he hadn't missed anything. To make sure he had followed the right track.

“Sire?” His knights waited for orders.

He shouldn't have to order, it should be obvious.

“Find me that dollophead.”

The knights looked at each other in doubt.

“Find him!” Arthur shouted, making the knights nod and move away in separate directions.

Arthur went back to where the trail ended, but the sight was the same. Someone was dragged away to where he stood now by two other people, and then they all vanished. There were no signs of horses or carriages, no more footsteps and no more signs of bodies being dragged.

The only option left was magic, but why would a sorcerer choose to kidnap a servant instead of attack the prince? It didn't make sense.

The trees closed in around him, his chest tightened and his breathing came in short, shallow gasps. The weight of the scene finally sinking in.

Merlin was gone.

Arthur didn't know what had happened to him, and he had no trail left to follow nor any sign that he was still alive.

His breaths seemed to be racing against his heart, both going faster and faster. Arthur dropped to a crouch, squeezed his eyes shut and raked both his hands through his hair, gripping tightly.

°•°§°•°

Merlin woke up cold and in pain. It took him a few minutes to fully come to his senses — his head had a sharp pain and he felt dizzy. His arms hurt from holding his own weight up, and his whole body seemed to weigh twenty times more than what it was supposed to.

He couldn't see anything when he managed to open his eyes; wherever he was didn't have any windows, and no torches were lit.

He was hanging from his wrists.

He felt the bite of the chains on them and straightened up to try to put some of his weight on his feet, even if they barely reached the ground.

Next, Merlin tried to remember what had happened — the weird sluggishness he felt, clouding his mind.

They were attacked and Merlin secretly helped the knights with his magic from behind some trees, as he usually does. Then there was nothing.

Did somebody hit his head from behind? That would explain the ringing in his ear and the pounding in his head. Was that what fallen branches felt like when he made them drop on bandits' heads?

He needed to get out of there and go back to Arthur.

Just when he was about to reach for his magic to try and get out, he heard the familiar sound of a door opening, followed by echoing footsteps.

When the footsteps stopped, a second door opened — this time in front of him, — and the brightness that suddenly flooded the room blinded him for a second, forcing him to close his eyes.

He heard them come in closer and cracked his eyes slightly open.

There were two of them, one walked around the room lighting the wall’s torches with his own. The other made his way straight to Merlin, lifting his torch close to Merlin’s face. “Well, well, look who finally woke up.”

He fought to keep his eyes open — the usually kind caress of torchlight, burning like a thousand suns before Merlin’s eyes.

The man had a scar across his face and was missing a tooth, and Merlin couldn’t escape his sour breath when the man laughed. “When we were told that the closest person to the Regent was his servant, we thought this would be the easiest job we ever took.”

He paced away. The other man stood by the wall next to the door with his arms crossed, he had longer hair that went to his shoulders. Both men were wearing dark clothes, but Hairy had a black cape where Scarface didn't.

“However!” Scarface turned around suddenly, “we were both very surprised to notice that the skinny little weak servant of the prince’s eyes turned gold.

Merlin froze, the scowl he had managed to put on during Scarface’s rambling weakened as the surprise hit his eyes. They had seen him.

He decided to act and reached for his magic to throw them away from him — maybe make them pass out — but his magic didn’t surface, and nothing happened. His head snapped up to where his wrists were chained up, and his eyes goggled.

That the chains were made of cold iron was an educated guess, and an expected one, but what brought true horror to his face was the thinner bracelet below those chains on both his hands. They weren't connected and didn’t seem designed to physically restrain him — the ring wasn’t skin-tight and even slipped down Merlin’s arms. Despite being thinner, they were heavier, and while the chains cut up his wrists raw, the marks carved into the bracelets were the ones that concerned him most.

He felt a chill run down his spine while the laughter from Scarface resonated through the walls. Cold iron — while very effective in neutralizing usual magic users — didn’t completely stop him from using his magic. He would be weaker, but not helpless.

This thing, though. This was different.

“I see you’ve found our toys. Aren’t they pretty? I doubt a peasant like you has ever worn something so fancy before.” Merlin didn’t look at him, he was focused on the carvings. The ringing in his ears got louder, and his head didn’t seem to pound as much when compared to the beating of his heart.

“It was a witch who kindly shared the secret for successfully binding someone's magic, you’d think it’d be common knowledge with how often magic users are hunted down, but to our surprise it turns out most people don’t know anything stronger than the good old cold iron.”

Binding someone's magic. It echoed in Merlin’s head as the man kept talking.

“Good for us, I say. Magic users are surprisingly more open to talk once they realize there’s really nothing they can do.” He laughed again.

Merlin snapped back at him with a scowl on his face, anger suddenly burning through his body. “What do you want?”

“How kind of you to ask, so polite.” He turned his head to his friend, “they are never this polite, are they?”

Hairy didn't answer, he didn’t move at all. In fact, he looked bored by his mate’s talking.

Scar turned back with a smile, “here’s the deal, scrawny, you will tell us what we want to know and my buddy will stay back there, bored out of his mind.”

“And when I don’t?”

Scarface’s eyes gleamed with a dangerous light, his already deformed face twisted with something evil and an interested smirk grew ominously. “Trust me, darling, you don’t want to give him a reason to leave that wall.”

Merlin looked back at Hairy. He was leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and didn't seem to be paying any attention to them.

“Now,” Scarface smiled, “why don't we begin?”

Merlin's cold gaze was still fired by his anger. It wasn't the first time he was kidnapped, he knew the drill. They would ask, he wouldn't answer, and then they would beat him up.

It was nothing he couldn't handle.

Still, the cold of the bracelets made for an eerie reminder that this time, he was really on his own. Not a single spark of magic would rise for his aid, and he wouldn't be able to save himself.

A chill ran down his spine when Scarface stepped closer.

°•°§°•°

The knights of Camelot rode after their Prince with quick strides. They had looked for Merlin throughout the night and part of the morning before the prince decided they needed backup. Their horses galloped through the gates of Camelot’s castle bringing with them an overwhelming sense of urgency.

Leon rushed to Arthur’s side before the man’s feet had the chance to hit the ground. “Sire?”

“Gather the knights in the war room,” Arthur didn’t stop, marching quickly through the courtyard straight to the castle’s doors. “We are separating into groups, our goal is to cover the largest amount of land in the quickest time.”

“What is going on, Sire?”

“Merlin is gone!” Arthur said, not looking back and not stopping, and that was all Leon needed to know before turning away, ready to gather as many knights as he could find.

Before the hour was over, the war room was filled and ready for action. Unfortunately, the plans were being delayed by Uther’s council who protested against the amount of knights the prince wanted to send for one servant.

“Unacceptable! The amount of resources, and time!” Said one of them.

“Not to mention the way this would weaken our defenses.” Another nodded in agreement.

“King Uther would never…” A third one started, but was interrupted by Arthur himself. “My father is not here to make a decision.”

He met the eyes of each lord with a stern gaze, before continuing:

“We will send search parties for Merlin. That is not up for debate and trying to change my mind about this will only be a waste of everyone's time.”

Arthur rose to his feet and leaned on the table, his eyes fixed on the map spread before him. “Whoever — or whatever — took Merlin must be tied to the disappearances along Mercia's borders. That was why we went there in the first place. I’m sure that finding him will uncover the truth behind those events and allow us to put an end to the threat once and for all.”

When no more protests came forth, he continued:

“The parties will be separated into the usual groups of five and six,” Arthur started to separate them, pointing on the map where each group should go. Elyan, Percival, Leon and Gwaine were each assigned party leaders and a region where they should start.

Before he could assign Lancelot his region, Gwaine asked: “What about Mercia itself, sire? If he disappeared near the border there's a chance he’s no longer in Camelot.”

Arthur nodded in acknowledgement, “I plan to lead a party through Mercia myself.”

The room exploded in a cacophony of voices, the lords rising to their feet to loudly protest their disagreement. There were so many complaints that Arthur couldn't really make out what exactly they were, though he had a good idea.

“Sire, if I may.” Agravaine stepped closer, and when Arthur nodded the room quieted to hear him.“Perhaps our lordships would feel more at ease if they knew Camelot’s Regent and only legitimate heir to the throne, was staying safely inside the castle's walls.”

He paced around the room, meeting the lord’s eyes and gesturing to their direction slightly. “We are all, of course, deeply concerned with Merlin’s well being and want him home as quickly as possible. But since Your Highness is already assigning so many of our bravest knights to this noble quest, perhaps it would be for the best to stay behind and wait for your men to report back with their findings.”

The lords behind Agravaine started to nod their agreement.

“Not to mention, Sire,” he continued. “The implications of going over the border yourself without notice.”

Arthur felt trapped, he wanted to go himself — it wasn't that he didn't trusted his men, he had trained them himself, but Merlin was his responsibility, his problem, his friend, his — but with the many protests and arguments that he couldn't rebut properly, he found he didn't have a choice but stay behind.

"Very well then, Lancelot shall lead a party through Mercia's border from their side. I'll stay behind and make sure King Bayard is properly informed of the situation.

Another round of murmured protests came from the Lords, but none dared to push their luck any further by speaking up, their prince would stay behind and they knew that was the only change of plans Arthur would allow.

"You are all dismissed." Arthur said to the rest of his court, before addressing his knights "I wish you all good luck, and I hope to hear from each of you soon enough."

He looked each of them in the eye, and found nothing but unwavering determination. "bring Merlin home."

And with this final words, the knights took off hurriedly, their steps echoing through the walls as they made their way to the courtyard. Their friend was missing, and every single one of them was willing to stay in the forest until they got him back.

°•°§°•°

Merlin didn't know how long he had been in that room.

He had been starved, beaten, nearly drowned, and he was sure he had something broken somewhere. Without the aid of his magic to soften the blows, the pain he had been put through so far had been ten times worse then what it usually was when he did have his magic.

If he were a weaker man, he know he would've cracked by now.

He heard the echoing footsteps that signified his captors approach and mentally prepared himself for another round.

Scarface came in, slamming the door strong enough to make it hit the wall — he liked to make a big entrance everytime, and if the sound of it hitting the wall worsen Merlin's headache, well, that was a bonus.

"Good morning, darling!" He came towards Merlin with excited steps, and posted himself right on Merlin's face, grabbing it with his dirty hands.

"I'm very disappointed in you, darling. I thought we had something between us, especially after all this time we spend together." He mocked being sad, before giving a full belly laugh. He did that a lot.

"But, it has become clear to us that you're not much of a chatter-mouth, unfortunately." He pouted. "That's why, darling, I'm sad to inform that our time together has come to an end."

Merlin froze, panic rising through his chest.

"Oh, don't worry, we'll still see each other. I wouldn't want to miss the show, now, would I?" He laughed again.

Just then, Merlin noticed Hairy moving around the room on the background. That raised more alarms to his head. Hairy had, so far, stick to his spot on the wall. Merlin couldn't see what exactly he was doing — Scarface seemed to be purposefully blocking his view — but the fact that he was actually inside the room at all and not just standing by the door, was concerning enough.

"Most people would say that I'm the good guy, you know?" Scarface brought his attention back to him, his voice was quieter than it had ever been. "Don't get me wrong, I do like the bit that I do. It's interesting work, but honestly? Watching my friend there do his thing is quite entertaining, he's almost an artist."

He glanced back and Merlin saw Hairy approaching. "You should have answered my questions, boy." Was the last thing Scarface said before Hairy reached them. He took a step back so they could stand side by side, both staring at Merlin.

He still couldn't see why Hairy was walking around the room — both him and Scarface blocked his vision of the room like a human wall — and the uncertainty of what would happen made him anxious.

"How do you want to start?" Scarface asked Hairy.

Suddenly, Hairy pulled a dagger out of nowhere and aimed it in Merlin's direction, his hand moving quickly.

Merlin braced himself for the pain of being stabbed, closing his eyes tightly.

He didn't have to, though, instead of pain he was suddenly hit by cold air that made goosebumps run across his body. He kept his eyes closed still, waiting for what was next on Hairy's agenda now that he had his chest bare and at their mercy.

"Now what do we have here? You are full of surprises, aren't you, darling?" Scarface said before — once again — laughing loudly.

Merlin opened his eyes and looked at them with confusion. Why had they stopped?

He kept looking from one to the other, looking for the answer. It wasn't until he paid closer attention to Hairy that he figured it out. Hairy had frozen in place, dagger still in his hands, and eyes staring at the same spot on Merlin's torso.

He felt his body go tense as realization struck him like a sudden slap. He didn't need to look down to know what they were seeing, and why they had stopped. And if he hadn't figured out by himself, Scarface would have clarified things when he excitedly asked: "But why didn't you tell us you were soulmates with the prince? Now, this changes things!"

He flung an arm around Hairy's shoulder, a sick smile on his face. "What do you think?"

Hairy stared at his soulmark a while longer before snapping his eyes to meet Merlin's. And if Scarface's smiles creeped him out, it was nothing compared to how Hairy's made him feel.

With the wicked grin still on his face, Hairy raised his dagger once more. Merlin tried to struggle away, but was held tightly in place by scarface. It didn't matter much, after so many days locked inside that place, Merlin didn't really had any strength left to physically fight them back.

The last thing Merlin remembered before passing out, were the coldness of the knife when it first touched the skin near his soulmark and the distant sound of someone screaming in pain.

°•°§°•°

Arthur paced around his room, constantly running a hand through his hair. A month.

Merlin had been gone for a month and still there were no news about him or any leads of where he could have been taken to.

"Check again."

Morgana sat at Arthur's table with a bowl of water. Everyday since Merlin's disappearance Arthur would knock on her door and ask her to try to find him with magic. "I've checked three times, Arthur, and the result is always the same. Wherever he is, my magic can't reach him."

"He's not dead, Morgana! I would know if he was, I would feel it."

"Nobody said that he was."

"They didn't have to! You think I don't known? Everybody thinks he's dead by now, that I'm crazy for wasting resources on a lunatic quest for a corpse they won't even find!" Arthur kept pacing.

"Arthur!" She placed herself in his way, resting her hands on his shoulders and trying to calm him with her eyes. "We are not going to give up on him, alright? Me, Gwen, our knights, we are all worried and we won't stop looking until we figure it out where he is , and when we do we will bring him home. Alive."

Arthur untangled himself from Morgana's grip and sagged down on his chair, face hidden in his hands. "It's my fault," he whispered, "I shouldn't have left him alone."

Morgana watched the messy state of her brother. While in court, Arthur presented himself as the proper Regent the lords expected him to be, but once he was around his friends — not that he knew they were his friends — Arthur's facade crumbled, and they could all see the worry and fear he felt for Merlin.

Day after day, his knights sent him reports about their findings — or rather, the lack of them — and Morgana watched the hope slowly disappear from his face everytime a new parchment came back with nothing new to report.

"It's not your fault, your idiot." She sat on the chair next to him. "If you want to blame anyone about this, you should blame me. I'm the seer, remember? I should have seen that it would happen."

"You aren't the one who kidnapped him, Morgana, of course it's not your fault." He lifted his face to reassure her.

Morgana had a small smile and looked at him like he had just stated the obvious.

When Arthur realized why, he frowned. "That's different, I was there."

"It's not, Arthur. You've been attacked a million times before and Merlin knows how to take care of himself on ambushes. It was unfortunate, but it wasn't your fault."

Arthur looked a her with tiredness in his eyes, "I'm glad we could put our differences behind us, Morgana," he smiled to her before pressing his fingers against his eyes, "I don't know what I would have done without your help."

"Probably stumble around the castle like a headless chicken." She smirked.

Arthur was startled by the sudden laugh that came out of him. "Yeah, probably."

The whole blood-related thing with magic on the side had been a mess, they fought a lot at the beginning until Morgana realized that Arthur wasn't like Uther. Still, even with Arthur's secret support of her magic and the promise of a safer Camelot in the future, their relationship hadn't been quite stable.

If this whole thing ended in tragedy — it wouldn't. He knew it wouldn't — then at least he was glad he would come out of it with a sister he was close with.

They were suddenly interrupted by loud knocks on his door, Arthur had barely managed to recompose himself before George barged in. "Sire!"

"George? what is going on?" Arthur jumped from his seat and reached for his sword, adrenaline suddenly pumping in his veins.

"It was the strangest thing, my lord." George was out of breath and dishevelled, sweat clung to his forehead and he spoke hurriedly, barely comprehensively. "The boy came out of nowhere, then I tried to see where he would go, I did! But he was just gone!"

"Hold on, George I can barely understand. A boy?"

"He had a message. A message for you, my lord. Said it was urgent."

Just then he notice the package in George's hand. He reached for it and while Morgana tried to calm the man down he inspected it.

It wasn't much anything, just a simple leather bag that could have belonged to anyone. He opened it up and inside he found a parchment and some type of fur or animal skin rolled up to fit inside the bag.

He went for the parchment first, if they went through all this trouble to send him a message, then he would hear it.

To his royal Highness, Prince Regent Arthur Pendragon of Camelot I believe this belongs to you.

Arthur frowned to the paper and looked back inside the bag. He hadn't lost any animal fur, he hadn't even had time for hunts since he became the regent.

Reaching inside the bag with a frown, Arthur retrieved the animal fur from it and tried to see if there was anything special to it. It seemed normal enough, the skin had been rolled up like a sleeping bag and holding it closed was a small belt. He reached for the buckle and opened it, letting the fur unravel towards the ground.

When the fur unfolded, he heard the sound of something else hitting the ground. He looked down and saw what it appeared to be a piece of leather, or maybe more animal skin.

He placed the animal fur on the back of his chair and crouched down to pick up whatever it was. His eyebrows furred and his nose scrunched up while he examined the weird thing. It did look like leather, but it felt wrong on the hand and the colour didn't seem right. He stood up still examining it, confused on what it could be.

He flipped it over to look at the other side.

'Arthur Pendragon'

His breathing suddenly hitched, his heart beat faster in his chest and goosebumps run across his entire body, raising the hairs from his arms and nape. He stumbled back, managing to take three steps before he hit the table and toppled it over to the ground with him.

"Arthur!?" Morgana ran to his side.

Arthur felt nauseated, he kept his eyes at the black swirly curls hoping they would disappear, that it was a lie. He heard Morgana gasp once she saw what he had in his hands.

His eyes met hers, they were wide open and teared, his face was pale, and a whirlwind of emotions fought for control. "Tell me it's fake," he begged.

Morgana wasn't faring much better, shock froze her in place. "Tell me it's fake!" Arthur screamed, shaking her back to life. She dropped down to her knees next to where Arthur had fallen and gently hovered her hands over the words. With her eyes closed she reached for them with her magic.

When she opened them again, tears ran down her face and she met Arthur's eyes with an apologetic look. "It's real."

Arthur broke eye contact and hunched over it, "leave me."

"Arthur…"

"Leave me!"

Morgana hesitated, but decided to do his bidding. She stood up, and noticed that George was still in the room, his face paler than Arthur's nightclothes. She signed for him to follow and together they left Arthur's chambers, worried about their prince's reaction.

Arthur stayed on the ground, thick tears fell down his face and he sobbed over his soulmate's skin. Losing Merlin had taken it's toll on him, leaving him emotionally unstable as he fought to ignore his feelings and focus on his kingdom and on planning the next strategy to find him; now, beside losing Merlin, someone had found his soulmate and hurt them.

He tried to focus his vision through the blurring tears, his eyes going over the fancy loops that formed his soulmate's mark. His name. His stupid name that had gotten them kidnapped and hurt.

His eyes began to dry as sudden rage filled his heart. Someone out there had found his soulmate and decided to use them to reach him. His head snapped back to where he has left the note, heart pumping his anger through his body, giving him purpose.

When he reached the note, he was surprised to see new words appearing on the parchment. They asked for a ransom and provided a location and time, as well as instructions that Arthur wouldn't bother to follow.

He marched out of his chambers, straight to the war room. He needed to strategize and he needed maps. He would also need his knights.

The realization almost made him stop on his track. Sirs Leon, Gwaine, Lancelot, Elyan and Percival were, of course, looking for Merlin. But if he was to go after his soulmate —because this time he would go, not going after Merlin had almost killed him, he wouldn't be stopped a second time — he would need people he trusted.

Arthur mulled over the last reports he received in his head. He knew Leon would be back by tomorrow — originally to restock and regroup before leaving once more — and Elyan and Percival were closer by than the others.

Once he reached the war room he went straight to the map, leaning over it. He would have to be careful. And no matter what, he would not stop the search for Merlin. Soulmate or not, Merlin was still a priority.

He focused on the map and on the information he had so far, and started to work on a plan.

°•°§°•°

Merlin kept going in and out of consciousness, the pain he felt was too much to bare, every second he spent awake was painfully torturous and he would pass out before he could be aware of his surroundings.

He didn't see his captors again, or at least not that he noticed. Darkness seemed to surround him in every direction and he couldn't tell the difference between reality and delusion anymore.

His mind spiralled with images both from his friends and from his captors. Gwen's smile turned into Scarface's laugh which echoed for painful instants before changing into Gwaine's. He heard Leon's voice saying his name and saw Elyan and Percival standing in front of him before their figures morphed into Hairy and Scarface.

He felt Arthur's arms around him. That one he knew was an illusion, just his mind giving him something good to hang on to. He didn't care. He let his mind wrap him up in Arthur's warmth and begged for the gods that they would let him stay there. And if he were to die, to let him die in the illusion of having Arthur's arms hugging him and lulling him to sleep.

Arthur's arms didn't stay, though. After what it seemed both forever and mere seconds, he felt them letting go of him, and he felt cold.

Suddenly a new feeling emerged from somewhere withing himself, overflowing him with familiar warmth that he hadn't felt in a long while. It spread through him like a raging sea, reaching for every corner of his body and mind, not settling until it had consumed him entirely. He revelled at the feeling.

He felt himself waddle through the fog of his mind, following the sound of muttered words that he couldn't really hear.

It was like he was under a thick blanket, the thickest he has ever seen, and couldn't really get out from under it.

He kept trying, though. He pushed and pushed and pushed until he finally could get through.

He was blinded by sudden light and his heart beat faster.

Light.

How long had he stayed in the darkness that just the small hint of light brought tears to his eyes?

"Merlin? Are you awake, my boy?"

°•°§°•°

It took Merlin a week to wake up.

A week since Arthur left the castle to find his soulmate, only to find Merlin in their place.

Merlin who hanged from his wrists covered in wounds and dried blood, passed out cold.

Arthur thought he was dead when he first saw him. He ran to his side and took him down into his arms, frantically looking for his pulse. When he found it — weak but still beating — he cradled his face and cried over him, filled with relief, concern and guilt. It wasn't until Leon entered the room, surprised to see Merlin on his arms, that Arthur remembered he was supposed to be there for his soulmate.

He spent the ride home — quick gallops flying with the wind, trying to reach Gaius as fast as possible — trying to figure out what had happened.

Only after he was alone in his room — Gaius tossing him out from his tower — that he remembered that Merlin had already told him.

'I'm not a match with my soulmate.'

Arthur felt his knees weaken and his breath caught in his throat as the conversation from that night flooded his brain.

'I could never make them choose.'

'If I have to watch them be happy from a distance then that's what I'm going to do, all it matters to me is that they are happy.'

'I'm not going to say it doesn't hurt, because it does.'

'I love my soulmate, Arthur'

'I love my soulmate. Arthur.'

'I love you'

Arthur didn't sleep that night and spend the week waiting for Merlin to wake up. He needed an explanation. He needed to know why.

He gave Merlin an extra day to rest before going to see him. He had every intention to let him talk, to be calm and try to comprehend.

He entered Merlin's chambers and for a second he forgot about the whole thing.

His heart swelled at the sight of his smile. He still looked weak, but much better than he had been before. Arthur took a step in, wanting to hug him, to be next to him, to call him an idiot for have worried him so much. To cry in relief that he was awake and alive.

Then his eyes fell to Merlin's shoulder, where his name was peaking out off the bandages, and he felt himself tense up.

Soulmarks couldn't be erased, even if someone tried to remove them —like those monsters did to Merlin — they would eventually show up someplace else.

Merlin looked confused for a second before following his gaze and tensing up himself. He didn't look back up. They stayed in silence for long minutes, Arthur staring at him and Merlin looking down at his hands, unwilling to speak up.

"Say something, Merlin"

Merlin shrugged, "there's nothing much to say."

Arthur felt a sharp pain through his heart, Merlin's dismissal clashed against his already messed up feelings and he felt sudden anger start to bloom.

"How can you say that? Nothing much to say?"

"It's not important."

"Not..? I had the right to know!"

"And I had the right to not tell you!" Merlin's head sprang up, his voice raising to match Arthur's.

They snapped at each other.

"God dammit, Merlin! You didn't give me a choice, I had the right to choose and you took that away from me!"

"The right to choose? And what choice would that have been, Arthur? Are you saying you could've just let go of your soulmate? Forsaken that name you spent your whole bloody life thinking about?" Merlin shook his head "And for what? For the clumsy idiot of a servant that you barely ever have the balls to call friend?"

That was a low blow, Merlin knew that, and despite Arthur's hardest efforts to hide, Merlin could see its effect showing in his eyes.

He continued his desperate rant, not giving Arthur any chances to talk.

"What would happen later, then? When your actual soulmate shows up on your doorstep? Was I supposed to just pretend to not be hurt? Should I thank you for the time you gave me, for the generous, generous act of staying with me while you waited for your true match to show up?"

He spat the words with a sarcastic tone.

"I wouldn't have gone back on my word if..."

"I don't want your fucking word, Arthur!" He screamed, interrupting.

Arthur surrendered himself to his hurt, he felt hot anger burning through his body and he lashed out, blinded by rage he didn't know he had.

"What do you want, then, Merlin?!? A marriage proposal?! Should I shower you with expensive gifts, crawl on my knees and beg you to wed me?"

Those could have been warm, intense and passionate words, a confession even, but the sarcasm and the anger that dripped from every word, revealed the poisonous malice in them.

Arthur's sky-blue eyes were so dark with anger that they almost seemed black.

"Is that what you want? For me to beg? Should I make it public, then? Give you and Camelot the whole spectacle of having me before you on my knees!"

Merlin's heart crumbled, he felt the fight leave his body and a sudden cold that began in his stomach went through him like lightning. He was exhausted and hurt, he had been for weeks, but somehow he hadn't felt defeated.

Scarface and Hairy might have gotten to his body, maybe a little to his mind, but Merlin still had his spirit, his heart. No matter what, that part of him still shone bright and alive, always able to get him through the ugliest of the storms. Until now.

Merlin sagged down looking back at his hands, and with teary eyes, he gave up.

"Let it go, Arthur."

"You can't just expect me.."

His head snapped back at Arthur, anger growing in his chest.

"I'm not expecting shit. That was the cruellest fucking thing you ever said to me.”

Thick tears went down his face, he didn't care.

Arthur felt like he was suddenly slapped. The anger he felt had blinded him and he spoke without thinking, forgetting who he was talking to. His heart crushed at the realization of what he had said and how he had said it. He wanted to take it back, but didn't know how.

"I never wanted you to give up anything; never wanted any promises that I knew you couldn't keep." Merlin started.

He had never looked at Arthur like that, not even on those first days at Camelot, when he thought he hated Arthur. His eyes were hurt, angry, and cold.

"You're going to walk out of this room and forget you know anything about my soulmark. You will pretend nothing happened and we won't ever talk about this again." He spoke in a whispered tone; his voice was raspy but firm, despite the lump in his throat

Arthur's mouth was shut tightly, a small twitch could be seen on his jaw. He was still angry, but the guilt and regret he felt kept him from lashing out again.

Merlin's eyes weren't as dark as before, but they were intense and the tears still rained down his cheeks as he spoke.

"Now get the fuck out of my chambers."

Arthur stared at Merlin's eyes for a while longer before turning around, opening Merlin's door, and walking away, slamming the door with all his frustration and anger.

He walked past Gaius, who was pretending to not have heard the discussion, and marched out of the physician's tower without looking back.

He walked through the hallways blinded by rage, frustration and guilt; servants and guards quickly got out of his way as he passed, noticing the storm that followed him.

He entered his chambers and slammed his door as well, walking straight to his desk. He rested both his hands on the back of his chair and leaned there for a while, his knuckles turning white with the strength of his grip.

He felt wetness on his face and a burning pain on his heart.

The chair flew through the room and hit a wall, where it broke in three separate parts, an agonizing scream following its demise.

Arthur paced and threw things, his vision blurred, and when he couldn't walk anymore he fell to the floor, leaning against his bed.

He brought his knees closer to his chest where he rested his elbows, and buried his face in his hands. One single word danced around his head.

Why?

It was so unfair.

He felt weak, so tired of this month and everything that had happened. Hating himself for what he had said.

After a while, anger started to resurface: anger about Merlin, who had lied and given him no choice; anger about himself, who had hurt Merlin; anger about the people who had kidnapped him and started this whole mess; but most of all, anger about the Fates, who had denied him the chance to match with his best friend.

He jumped up, grabbed his sword, and marched down to the training grounds.

°•°§°•°

The days passed with Merlin still bedridden. The aftereffects of the magic-binding bracelets made his magic weak and unstable, unable to help him heal as fast as it usually would.

Arthur didn't come back to visit, and Merlin didn't know how he felt about it. He was still hurt and somewhat angry, but he couldn't help but miss his Prince.

When the day came where Merlin could, at last, return to his duties as Arthur’s servant, he hadn’t seen him in over two weeks. Time seemed to slow down as he entered the prince’s chambers. Arthur was already dressed and sat at his desk, reading over some papers.

Merlin saw Arthur’s shoulders tense right as he entered. Neither of them said anything, and Merlin proceeded to do his tasks feeling the heaviness of the room.

Arthur didn’t look at him, didn’t give him any absurd chores, didn’t ask for his help or his advice with any of his documents. When Merlin had to help him put on his armour, he did so with the utmost care not to touch him, not to meet his eyes.

Merlin cried himself to sleep that night, quietly sobbing on his pillow the ache off his heart.

The days went by once more, Merlin no longer followed Arthur everywhere. He polished his armour and sharpened his sword in the armoury; he folded and mended his clothes in the laundry room; he cleaned Arthur’s chambers when he was busy with either knight’s training or council meetings, which Merlin no longer took part in.

He only saw Arthur in the mornings when he had to wake him up — always on time and with a polite knock on the door — when he had to bring his meals — still hot and untouched — or when he had to prepare his baths and dress him up — careful not to touch him more than necessary.

Merlin had become the perfect servant, he didn’t speak unless spoken to — and on the extremely rare occasions where he did, it was always with the appropriate title — he didn’t make eye contact, and bowed to the Prince Regent both in acknowledgement and before leaving his presence. He had successfully become part of the decoration, invisible to everyone unless needed, as a servant was supposed to.

He had never been so miserable in his life.

The pain he felt had long subsided into something less, but somehow mutated into something more. He was just so tired. Longing had shifted into mourning, and the dull ache he felt — that weird mix of nothingness and heaviness that clung into him, making him wish he could just lay there on his bed forever — had become his most loyal companion.

His magic was inconsolable, it still longed for Arthur’s presence every single day, sneakily it tried to reach him, to just for a second revel in the warm light that was Arthur. Having to reel it in every day before it did something stupid, was one of the hardest things Merlin had to do, especially when he wanted to do the same thing himself.

His friends had tried to help, they really did. But there was nothing they could say to help, not really.

The one month mark came and went by, and if Merlin had had any hopes that they could still talk this off, he couldn't find it anymore. He hadn’t reached out to Arthur, at first out of anger, then out of hurt. Now he simply hadn’t the strength anymore. And if Arthur wanted to fix things, he would have said, or more likely, done something — something stupid, and with all the tact of someone with zero emotional intelligence — by now.

Arthur didn’t want to fix things.

He had once learned how to be content with the idea of not being Arthur’s soulmate. Now, he simply had to learn to accept he would never be nothing more than a bystander, watching as his heart lived his own life away from him.

He had to relearn how to live without Arthur.

With his mind made up, he walked from his chambers to Arthur’s in a daze. It seemed like he had just left the physician’s tower when he found himself facing the prince’s door, a fist raised up, ready to knock just like he had been doing these past weeks.

He stared at his fist and was suddenly overwhelmed with his feelings. His ears started to ring, tears surged in his eyes and he felt breathless, panting more as the ringing seemed to grow louder.

He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to push his feelings as well as the traitorous tears, back down to where they should have stayed. He stayed there for a long while, breathing and just listening to his heartbeat calming him down.

Once he opened his eyes again, he felt more himself then he had in goddess knows how long. He felt resolute, and calm. His heart ached still, but that had been there since before the ambush.

With a certainty he hadn’t had in a while, he reached for the doorknob and pushed the door open without knocking.

Arthur sat at his desk going over some documents. Merlin noticed how his shoulders tensed upon hearing him walk in, and he turned his head slightly to the right, looking in Merlin’s direction with a brief side glance before facing forward again.

“My lord,” Merlin started and he watched as Arthur stopped moving completely, his back tensing even more. Merlin understood, he hadn’t started an interaction with Arthur in who knows how long. “I have received news from Ealdor.”

That made Arthur turn and face Merlin. And for the first time in what it felt like forever, Merlin met Arthur’s sky-blue eyes — the ones that he loved with all his might — with his own, and stayed there, planning on maintaining eye contact the whole time he spoke.

Arthur’s eyes were guarded, but Merlin knew him — by the gods, did Merlin know him — and was relieved when he didn’t find any anger there. The only thing he saw was mild concern.

Merlin’s heart beat on his chest, alive once more. Arthur’s gaze, testing his decision.

“Good news.” He said, intended to reassure the prince, but just like that — after a small glimpse of relief crossed his eyes — Arthur shut himself up and presented his court face. His emotions now secure away from Merlin’s eyes.

“Apparently Ealdor has been graced with what is looking like a very fortunate season, crops have reportedly grown in such abundance as not seen in decades.” Merlin didn’t leave his place by the door. Arthur’s eyes watched him, waiting.

“With blessing of this nature, the village has come together to seek help with this next harvest season.” Understanding gleamed in Arthur’s eyes, but he remained silent, waiting for Merlin’s request that he knew was coming.

“If it would be agreeable with your highness, I would like to formally request permission to—” He cut himself short, it felt wrong, the formality in which he spoke — even if that’s what he had been doing lately. He cleared his throat trying to restart. He didn’t have to, though.

“You want to go home.” Arthur spoke — for the first time since their fight, something that wasn’t an order.

“Yes.”

“To help with the harvest season.”

Merlin’s eyes flickered away and back for a second. “That’s the plan, yes.”

Arthur nodded and looked away himself. “You have my permission, Merlin.”

For a moment there, Merlin thought he sounded resigned. He dismissed it as wishful thinking.

“Harvest is upon us, I assume you will be leaving soon.” He turned away, going back to his papers. “Take as many provisions as you deem necessary.”

Merlin nodded to Arthur’s back, grieving the loss of eye contact. “I will be leaving as soon as I finish packing, if that’s alright with you.

Arthur grunted his agreement and added: “take one of the knights with you.”

Surprise surged in Merlin’s face. “I don’t—”

“That’s the condition if you want to go”

Merlin lowered his head — was Arthur… concerned about him? — before shaking his thoughts away. “As you wish, my lord.”

He waited a few seconds. A heartbeat, two, when it was clear they were both done with talking, he prepared himself to leave the room. “By your leave?”

Once again Arthur turned his head slightly to the right, and without looking at him, nodded his dismissal.

He turned around and reached for the doorknob, he stopped. This moment felt final, and he realized that once he walked through that door, he wouldn’t be seeing Arthur again. At least, not for a long while.

He felt his magic protesting again, wanting to go to Arthur. Merlin couldn’t deny it a goodbye, so he let it free.

Slowly it floated towards the prince, hesitantly, as if it was scared to do something wrong. Once it reached him, though, it embraced Arthur completely, softly caressing his skin.

Merlin had never hugged Arthur himself, but if it was anything like what he felt through his magic, he lamented the fact.

“Goodbye, Arthur.” Merlin whispered to the room, and he saw when Arthur stopped moving.

His magic retreated, and just when Merlin was about to leave, Arthur turned around again.

His eyes were soft and he carried an hesitant, sad, smile. “Send Hunith my regards.”

They nodded to each other.

Seconds passed, and when Merlin couldn’t bear to stay there any longer, he turned away, closing the door behind him with a quiet shut.

Within the hour, two horses could be seen leaving the gates of Camelot.

Merlin rode away without looking back, with unshed tears in his eyes and a heaviness in his heart that weighed him down completely, burying with each step his last hopes of recovering the bond he used to have with Arthur.

He made his way home, not knowing what his future would look like. He knew Arthur would still need him in Camelot — the prophecy that bound them together still had to be fulfilled — but for the first time in a long while, he didn’t know what his role would be.

All he knew was that he had lost, permanently, the trust and friendship of the only man he would ever be able to love with every drop of his being.

He hoped that with time, the pain that crushed his heart would be bearable enough, and that his heart would learn to accept that he and Arthur were simply not meant to be close in any way known to men.

°•°§°•°

Leaning against the wall, Arthur watched from his window as Merlin rode away, Lancelot following him close by.

He noticed Merlin didn't spare a single glance to the place he had called home for so many years — he didn't blame him.

He stayed there, following Merlin with his eyes as he disappeared into the horizon — his heart wearing thinner and thinner as Merlin inched away from him — until long after he had disappeared from his sight.

He had done the right thing. He must have.

The past weeks had been the hardest of his entire life. He had never been so miserable; never had a task so arduously difficult as this one. Watching Merlin distance himself, seeing him slip through his fingers straight into the role of a simple servant, as if he was just another passerby in Arthur's life. It had been too much for him to bear.

He stared blankly at the place Merlin had disappeared, lost in his thoughts.

He cursed the Fates for the choices they had made. If Merlin wasn't meant to be his soulmate, then why make him Merlin's? Why make Merlin the most important person in his life, but not THE most important person in his life?

If he wasn't supposed to love Merlin back, then why did his heart seem to wear thin when he vanished beyond the horizon?

A part of him hoped Merlin would come back, that he would scream at him, curse him, call him names once more. It was a foolish wish, a selfish wanting that he had bravely fought against, and won.

The prize for his battle had been Merlin's freedom.

Arthur knew he had hurt Merlin — he had destroyed their friendship and crushed any chance of it ever being something else. But he hoped that with that, with the absolute certainty that Arthur didn't want him, Merlin would move on. Maybe someday Arthur would hear whispers about how an old servant — the one that used to follow the prince around — had just had his third child, with his lovely wife whom he loved so dearly and who loved him back.

Time passed, the room grew colder, and after the sun had set and the moon shone through the night sky, he was snatched away from his daze by the sound of knocks on his door. George's familiar voice came through, reminding him that, even though it shouldn't, the world kept moving on with or without Merlin's presence.

He tried to shake away the gruesome realization that he had purposefully lost not only his best friend, but the only person Arthur had learned to love. If it was in a romantic way or not, it didn't matter anymore. And if the Fates were to be trusted, it never did.

Princes didn't cry, it simply wasn't done. But if his fingers brushed his skin to wipe away sudden wetness, no one would be the wiser.

"Come in." He said to the door, and turned away from his window, trying to continue his life as if nothing important was missing.

End of Act.II

Hello everyone! (waves from behind a safety wall) I'm sorry it took so long to update this, work got really busy this past month but I'm officially on vacation! (yay!) I want to thank everybody for the love I got on Act.I, I know I didn't answer any comments but I hope you know how much every note I got there meant to me. You guys got me through this month. Thank you with all my heart.💖 Also, I think I should say: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, everyone! I spend the past two days trying to finish this in time for the 24th but wasn't fast enough. The 25th will do, though. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that it could make you happy ☺️ (Smiles in Alex Vlahos' Mordredmas) And I'm sorry this post was so big, I don't know how that happened. (it's 11k words, guys) I left out so much background plot that was trying to sneak in — if you see something you think seems random it's because I had to get rid of plot or I wouldn't finish this ever — but even with all my getting rid of things it still ended up this big. I feel weird making it just the one post but the original idea was that all of this happened on Act II so I'm keeping it like that. I still have some figuring out to do for Act III, but I'm already writing it. I do want to try to finish it this year, but since I have never finished any story that I wrote in my life, I will give myself time to do it without pressure. So no promises as to when I'll be posting it. I will post it, though, and happy ending is still a promise. If you'd like to be added or removed from my "people to tag" list, please let me know ( I hate assuming, makes my anxiety go wild) Quick and usual reminder that english is not my first language, and that I barely edited this at all, so forgive me for any mistakes and weird formatting. I hope you guys have a great season and fantastic new year. Don't forget to keep warm if you are somewhere cold, to drink lots of water, and remember to take your medicine if you have any. 💜

[kurogane2512]

Been thinking about this voiceline from Lady Pearl and just had to write a little fic~

Mainly contains kissing and implied sex, nothing explicit

You were taking a round of the recreational area, looking at the various activities the Sinners were doing. It was usually a joyous place all day, filled with laughter and leisure. Of course, there were also areas which were far quieter, reserved for the peaceful ones. As you walked past, you noticed Lady Pearl seated in a faraway corner reading a file. She had a curious and intriguing expression on her face which prompted you to ask what she was up to.

"Ah, how may I help you, honey?~" she chimed with a smile when you stood beside her.

"It's nothing, I was just wondering what you were doing."

"Oh, curious little thing, aren't you?~" she chuckled and patted the place beside her, suggesting you to sit down.

"Hm, I was going over the script for a new play at Fortuna. It's shaping up to be quite good, I'm eager to have you watch it with me~"

"I see, what is it going to be about?"

"I don't want to spoil the fun so all I'll say is it's a romantic tale brimming with passion~"

She flipped open the script again and browsed some lines with a hum before letting out a giggle.

"What is it? Is it a funny scene?" you asked, feeling slightly curious of her reaction.

"No, quite the opposite in fact. It's a kiss scene~"

You blushed for a moment and cleared your throat, "O-Oh, I see. Sounds to be a passionate tale of romance indeed...."

Lady Pearl's lips curled up in a smirk, "You know, a kiss is a wonderful but fleeting thing. When it fades, reality hits and the madness dries up. Some people accept it, while others....sprial."

Your gaze subconsciously fell on her lips at this statement, feeling drawn to her tempting, plump and moist peach lips. Just then, she turned to face you and met her gaze with yours while her hand cupped your cheek as she leaned closer.

"I wonder, if it were you, what unexpected choices would you make?~"

Your eyes flickered down to her lips even more, and she knew well where you were looking. She too gazed at your lips for a moment and dragged her hand down to rub them with her thumb.

"....Why don't we find out?~" you replied unexpectedly, her eyes widening for a second before she leaned back and retracted her hand.

"An interesting suggestion. I'll almost feel envious of being a mere spectator of a passionate display like that~"

"Why would you be a spectator? I was thinking of doing it with you. Wouldn't that be more effective?"

Lady Pearl couldn't help but laugh, finding you adorable.

"To say that so directly.... You are bold and untamed, and that's what I like about you~"

You blushed again, "Isn't that what you were thinking as well?"

"Hehe, who knows. But tell me, do you really prefer me over those pretty, adorable young ones? I'm sure there are quite a number of people here who'd love to have that kind of opportunity with you~"

You averted your gaze for a moment then firmly looked into her eyes, "I'll be honoured to do it with you. I don't really care about age, you are beautiful and desirable no matter what."

Lady Pearl felt her cheeks become warm but she hid her flustered self well. She placed her left hand on your shoulder and shifted closer, your eyes once again falling on her lips.

"How unpredictable and flattering.... Every moment with you is worth remembering." she whispered while placing her right hand on your cheek, drawing your face closer to hers.

The wait felt like an eternity as you both drew closer, until a fire surged through your body the moment your lips touched. It started as a simple touch, a mere contact of muscles. Then it transformed into a desire for something deeper and intimate. Her lips were soft and tasted like peach with a hint of strawberry, a taste you became addicted to quickly and sought more of. Your lips moved with hers with passion and an unmatched intensity she had never experienced before.

Lady Pearl expected to lead and make you overwhelmed, but she was quite surprised by your quick adaptation and the way you fought to conquer her. Your taste was equally addicting to her. She leaned into you as much as possible, her arms snaking around your neck to kiss deeper. You settled your hands on her waist and rested against the wall behind you, enjoying this fervent exchange with her. Breaths mingled and tongues danced as the next act approached, muffled voices coming out as moans resounding in your ears.

It was supposed to be a simple kiss, but neither of you knew how it turned into this heated frenzy. Her hands roamed over your body and shuffled through your clothes in desperation, eager to rip and expose your naked body for herself. But she kept her composure knowing you were in a public place, still she found it difficult to stop the growing lust in her. She knew what the madness in a kiss meant, yet to experience it like this was unexpected. She wanted to see how you'd react after the madness ends, but she couldn't guarantee her own state now.

"....-ief" you felt someone calling you in the hazy state of your mind.

"Chief." the voice came again and the haze started clearing up as you opened your eyes.

You were met with the sight of Lady Pearl still pressed into you and your lips ravaging hers, but you finally realized someone was standing behind her and calling out to you continuously.

"Oi, idiot Chief! Snap back to your senses!" The piercing voice was all too familiar, it was Hella, and the other calm voice was Hecate.

Your face reddened up in embarrassment at the situation, you didn't know when you got lost in the feeling of the kiss and forgot where you were. Just then, Lady Pearl released the kiss and moved away from you with a smirk adorning her lips as if she was unfazed during the entire exchange. She looked at your flustered self and licked her lips while caressing yours with her thumb.

"Hehe, a most interesting experience. You surprised me once again~"

You were breathing heavily as you tried to pull yourself together then hurriedly stood up, "A-Ah, I got to go now! I hope that gave you your answer, good luck with the play!"

You grabbed Hella and Hecate's wrists then swiftly walked away. Lady Pearl watched you go from the corner of her eyes then turned back to face the front before taking a long, deep breath. She touched her chest and felt her heart pounding as if it was ready to jump out. She then touched her lips and pondered about the feeling of yours, she wanted more— no, she needed more. How could a simple kiss intensify her feelings for you so much? She didn't think she'd be one of those who spiral; and judging by your reaction, you were clearly spiraling too but holding back. Well, what was the point of holding back? She always believed in making unpredictable choices and forging one's own path.

It was late night when you were seated in your office working on documents, but your mind was ever-muddled and diverted from the events of the morning. You couldn't get the kiss out of your mind. You couldn't get Lady Pearl out of your mind- her taste, scent, voice, face- everything kept spiraling in your mind constantly like a tornado. Your hands became sweaty as you thought about the kiss more and soon kept your pen down to take a break and get your focus back. You were about to get up to fetch some coffee when a knock was heard on your door, followed by none other than Lady Pearl coming in.

"Apologies for disturbing you at this hour, honey. Do you have a minute?~"

"O-Oh, sure! Come in, please! Would you like to have some tea or coffee?" you nervously spoke while walking back n forth, picking up documents and clothes from the chair to make space for her to sit.

She watched your shifty state, your fumbling steps and uneasy glances as you tried to remain calm. You were adorable as ever, but even more so this way. She was planning to be slow and tease you a bit first, do some foreplay and make you desperate. But she found that to be a waste of time when she could be having your body in her arms instead. She waited as you poured out a cup of coffee before turning around to talk with her. You placed your coffee on your desk and were about to walk to your side of the table when she stopped you by holding your wrist. Her touch instantly sent shivers down your body, your mind once again thinking of the kiss.

"I-Is everything oka— mmph!~"

Your words were blocked as Lady Pearl pressed her lips to yours instantly for a short moment.

"No, everything is not okay. You have been on my mind all day, so much so that I have been rendered ineligible for several tasks. I couldn't even finalize the script from today and it's all your fault, honey~"

She teased with a smirk and walked closer until you were leaning against the edge of your desk, she held your hands and guided them around her waist before settling her own on your shoulders.

"....Did you get the answer to the question from then?"

She hummed and brought her face closer until your lips were barely touching, your breaths mingling together.

"To some extent. But it also gave birth to more questions~"

You pursed your lips then suddenly pulled her closer, "I guess we should answer each of them one by one~"

Lady Pearl chuckled then wasted no time to devour your lips with hers. The affair was much more passionate and needy from before, both of you desperately fulfilling your desires. You slipped off her shawl while she unbuckled your chest harness and proceeded to unbutton your shirt. Your bodies pressed closely as you tried to push back and pin her to the wall, your hands roaming all over her curves. Just when you thought you had her pinned to the wall, she showed an unexpected display of strength and pushed you down the sofa instead then straddled you.

"Mmm, h-honey!~" she moaned into the kiss as she sat on your waist, her fingers continuing to open your shirt.

"So passionate.... fervent.... yet loving.... Oh, I'll let the flames devour the world while we act out the utmost frenzy! Show me more, honey!~" she chanted in a lovestruck state.

You slipped the straps of her dress from her shoulders until her body was half exposed as you sat up to hold her. She wrapped her arms around your head and kissed you deeply, making out with unmatched fervour and need. Of course, she didn't stop at just kissing you— as implied by the hickeys on your neck and scratches on your back.

[twig-tea]

2024 Tumblr Top 10

tagged by @lurkingshan here and @neuroticbookworm here, thank you both! This really reminds me that I need to do a real pinned post at some point.

If you want to generate your own, you can use this link! I used the link to find the posts but wrote this below because I thought reflecting on the posts would be fun.

My GL rec list (covering everything through to Feb 2024), which I'm very happy about taking first place. If you want GL recs, check that out first, and then feel free to browse my #GL recs tag.

The admittedly shady post from October calling out the director of the Addicted Heroin Thailand adaptation for (a)making weird choices and (b)defending them as artistic. But I stand by my anger about this. Censorship is not an aesthetic!

The non-novel-spoilery reaction post to episodes 1 & 2 of Love In The Big City which was also from October, but which honestly stands up for my reaction to the whole series. What a gift of a show.

A quick pitch for Akaya is in Love with Hiroko from July. This one hurts! I was so ready to cheerlead for this show and did several times, but the penultimate episode made me wary and the finale really upset me, to the point where I didn't end up writing about the finale, so I'll take the chance here: Don't make a show about two self-aware lesbians, one who has been comfortably sexually active for years and one who is super horny for her, and have them get together as adults and yet be celibate for a year out of "respect". Is the message that sex between consenting and enthusiastic adults is not respectful?! GTFO. For the record I can be respected with orgasms, thank you.

The episode celebrating the messaging in the finale of Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo from November. Glad that this is here between the previous entry and the next two, because this is a good balm for the pain. LFtCoT landed the ending and gave us all a giant hug while doing it!

The list of things I was thinking about at the end of Wandee Goodday ep3 from May. Another disappointment for me. The things this post shouts out are still things I like about this show, and reading it again is a reminder of where the back half let the first half down (not taking seriously some of the things we were told to take seriously in the first few episodes).

An early post about Love Is Better the Second Time Around from March. Another show that did not land everything, in this case because it felt like it tried to shove in a complicated conflict in the last two episodes that they didn't have time to handle. But I still love those early episodes and all of the interplay between Miyata, Iwanaga, and Shiraishi.

My clown theory for Every You, Every Me also from October, which ended up being correct! I've never been more happy to be right, I liked this reveal for the show so much.

In February I wrote this thesis about the state of Thai BL looking at data from 2022 and 2023, which I have been meaning to go back and update since I think Shan as usual was feeling the start of the wave and we needed more data to see the change actually play out in 2024. I now no longer feel (as I did in this post) that things haven't changed, I do think they have this year. But I need to crunch the numbers again to prove it to myself (and everyone else) though. Stay tuned!

In July I did a round-up post about the various theories surrounding Century of Love, and whether Vee and Vad were the same person. Turns out San did wrestle with this as I'd hoped but the show itself felt like it lost steam and copped out around this, unfortunately. At least we'll always have fox demon Offroad and grumpy old man Daou's collarbones thanks to this show.

Special shout-out to @lurkingshan because two of the posts above are answers to asks she put in my inbox that spawned project posts. Shan knows what the people want to hear!

Tagging @italianpersonwithashippersheart @benkaben @ellsieee @colourme-feral @pigglepiephi @impala124 no pressure tags and apologies if you've been tagged already!

[noodle-is-unstable]

Hey, just a question but why were you fine with the abusive power dynamics between Sukuna and Uraume (Ume being so devoted to Sukuna and Sukuna only that they killed themself and Sukuna being fine with this blind devotion + Sukuna, a curse/cursed user, making Uraume, a human, cook human meat, including children, for him) so far but the moment he might have met them as a kid/teen you aren't fine? It was a "problematic" ship from the start, idk why everyone is acting horrified that the villains do villain things. But also meeting as a kid and dating as a kid is soooo different, they're both thousands years old in current days so like...

So first of all, you're more than welcome to ask questions and have a discussion but the tone in which this is written is coming off as agressive in my opinion. I don't appreciate that. Perhaps I'm reading into it wrong and that wasn't your intent, but it still has an unnecessary agressive tone to me. Especially in how you chose to end it with "so like..."

I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume I'm misinterpreting the tone because it's very possible I am.

Now onto the actual question.

So unless something happened in the epilogue I missed I don't agree with your assessment of their relationship at all. If this context is given in the epilogue the point is moot because it was still something I wasn't privy to.

So I'm going off the manga for my knowledge of their relationship.

I think it's possible and valid that this is the interpretation you got from this, but it's simply not the same one I have.

I don't see their relationship as an abusive dynamic. (this can change with the new knowledge or context in the epilogue but we're taking about my perspective and why I wrote about it before this)

I saw Uraume as a very loyal servant, but not an abused or manipulated one. I didn't see Sukuna forcing things onto Uraume, I saw them choosing to do these things. (Remember this is in the context where we didn't know how Uraume and Sukuna met). I saw Uraume as choosing to follow Sukuna, choosing to cook humans, choosing to be devoted to Sukuna. They chose to follow him. They chose to be reincarnated to stay by his side. Uraume isn't some innocent little lamb being tricked by a wolf. They killed many people too. Also I think you forget Sukuna was a human too. Sukuna was a human eating humans and Uraume was a human cooking humans. They both participated in fucked up activities. Uraume isn't innocent and being forced to do anything. If they were I doubt they would have worked so hard to bring him back rather than just leaving and living their reincarnated life without him.

Simply put I saw Uraume as a very willing participant in everything that happened. I don't see their dynamic as abusive. You do and you have every right to, but I don't.

I also don't agree with your logic that their villains and do villian things so I should be okay with everything. Stealing is against the law, but so is murder. They're both bad, but they aren't equal. There is so much nuance to situations like this it's not realistic to just make it all equal.

Not to mention there is zero feelings that aren't platonic shown in the manga, that's all headcannons. It's not actually apart of the series at all. This is something fans have put onto the characters. This whole argument is in a fan made concept.

I am uncomfortable with pushing a romantic relationship on them when the situation is that he took Uraume in as a kid. I don't like it, it gives me the ick. So shocking, but if I don't like or agree with something, I'm not going to write about it.

Like I said in my last post I don't give a shit about the argument they're 1000 years old now, I don't like it.

He met Uraume as a child

He helped raise them

I'm not going to push a romantic aspect to that situation

You're allowed to disagree. You're allowed to not have a problem with that dynamic. You're allowed to see their dynamic differently than I do. But at the end of the day this is my page and I'm allowed to decide what I do and don't want to write for. And I don't want to write for that dynamic

[holybibly]

How are my sugar bunnies? I hope you all miss me a lot, don't you? I wanted to give you a little update and chat with you in general.

Let's start with the fact that I'm a terribly lazy person, and instead of finishing the new ffs I promised you, I spent two days lying in bed doing absolutely nothing except sleeping and watching TV series, and the only sign of my activity was spontaneous shopping, where I bought myself a new vintage fur coat, again… I can't help it, I'm a fur whore.

But now I have finally gathered my thoughts and strength and am ready to actively write and communicate with you again, my sweet bunnies, so if you want to chat, my inbox is always open, I have also seen several messages from those who would like to see me, if you are still eager then write to me in DM, I will send a photo, only if all my bunnies do not want to get to know me better.

I am also happy to spend my whole holiday with you. I love you, bunnies

[bomberqueen17]

chapter update: not a crest chapter 5

So ok the thing is, I had written and edited and proofread a different chapter 5, and reread it yesterday preparatory to posting it, and then realized that... it's a wonderful little atmospheric chapter but nothing plot-relevant actually happens.

so i'm going to post it as a bonus holiday extra at some point and instead i posted the next chapter as chapter 5, because the plot actually advances and i'm trying to improve my pacing somewhat.

There is one solitary line that references the events of the now-apocryphal former chapter 5 which i shall post soon enough, and it is slightly confusing without that chapter already existing, but I'm leaving it in as an easter egg rather than removing it, and we shall see who notices it LOL.

So the thing is that when I took my unintentional hiatus this summer/fall, I had a bunch of stuff already written but not organized, and some of that stuff I had actually written like two years ago, and now that I've banged that into shape, I'm off the end of the stuff I've been actively planning for years, and now I'm into the And Then The Fun Happens part, which I would not let myself prewrite, but that means it's not already written. So it's -- well, pacing is never my strong suit, really, and it's only more challenging when I don't have some scenes already in the bag. Stringing prewritten scenes together is hard in one way, and writing out what I previously only had as Vibes is hard in a different way. I'm not complaining I'm just saying, LOL.

ANYHOW

in this chapter, which is now

chapter 5, on AO3

we get Lu snoring like a pug dog and Morvran admitting sleepily that he's not great at gender roles

“I’ll have you know,” Morvran said, slouching deeper in the armchair and putting his hands over his face, “that I spent years believing that I would someday be the one to carry a child. If I am tired and distracted enough I still could probably be convinced that I could.” “Did you really,” Ciri said. “I was unclear on… certain biological realities when I was a very young child,” Morvran said, peeking out from behind his hands. “I shouldn’t just admit that, though, should I? I sound mad. In my defense I was five or… well, six or seven actually, now that I count it out. Which is too old for that sort of confusion but in my defense I was very invested in my little brother’s impending existence.” “Oh no,” Lu said. “Morvran, that’s the cutest anyone has ever been.”

[stellamancer]

👁️👁️ …. sweet niku i am abt to go eep but . u have opened pandora’s box and so i must ask :3333c for nikumichi crumbs ….. uraniku …… you are v creative with shipnames so it’s hard to guess PVDKDBD but i desire to know >:3 how do you think you would meet / what would the dynamic be like ….. ? who’d catch feelings first ? ?? i must know . this is extremely important pls tell me everything!!!!! 🎤

🐭🐭🐭🍵 (<- the mice bringing u tea while you think this over …….)

LMAOOOO i'm not super creative!! they get adapted from by others... like nikooj (or enlightenmeat which was still a friend's idea and not mine). so the uramichi x niku name (as adapted by others is) uraniku/uranikoo but if i wanted to go in the same vein as enlightenmeat... UNFORTUNATELY THE FIRST THOUGHT IS ACTUALLY 'ROADKILL' OF ALL THINGS. T_T let me workshop it a little longer.

i think that i've never really actually super thought of it it because i think i was thinking of doing an ocship (with my baby girl princess kira no less) more than selfshipping. the lore there is actually really hilarious imo. mostly because kira's brothers are the type of hilarious people that uramichi would hate dealing with.

this is actually super hard because like. it's extremely hard to think of HOW we'd meet. i don't wanna do overlap so i don't want it to be like how i meet gojo or deku in their respective selfships. and I DON'T WANNA DO NEIGHBORS SINCE U KNOW I HAD A NEIGHBOR AU FIC I WANTED TO WRITE.

anyway, after some brainstorming on discord with some pals, uramichi and i would be introduced to each other by some friends we have in common, or rather, i have plucked my beloved moda and their beloved momo (from idolish7 which has now be canonized in uramichi world lmao) and they decide to set us up. kind of. maybe. they both invite us to go to yakiniku on a covert double date (actually moda has invited me to go with them and momo before but i have refused on account of not wanting to be a third wheel).

both uramichi and i separately clock that we're essentially being set up on a blind date immediately when both moda and momo suggest it to us but both decide to still go for our own reasons (me because moda tells me that momo has offered to pay for everyone and uramichi 1) to prove to usahara he does indeed have friends and 2) he's ultimately incapable of telling anyone who isn't usahara no).

i think that first double date is kind of... awkward. i'm honestly not particularly outgoing and neither is he and momo and moda do a lot of heavy lifting at the beginning...... i think the conversation 'takes off' (as much as it can take off for two socially awkward introverts) once we get into talking about hobbies. and moda and momo kind of watch us in amusement lmao.

it would probably be a very slow start, with a lot of nudging from momo and moda who thought things went very well. we probably run into one another randomly at some point and have go out to eat or hang out or something. maybe drinking. well. he drinks and while i don't really drink, maybe i have one or two since i'm a social drinker LMAO. i think the dynamic is kind of sickly sweet and wholesome ahahaha. uramichi doesn't really activate the tsun in me, but i think once we become closer he teases me a little as a treat. LMAO.

i think i'm generally fairly good at navigating personal landmines so i don't think i'd step on one of his but the lore need some drama so i probably do at some point...

IDK WHO CATCHES FEELINGS FIRST. i think we probably have an idiots in love sort of thing in which we don't think the other is interested (usahara and kumatani are trying to convince uramichi otherwise but failing). it might be a case of he catches them first but i realize first. he's probably pretty deep in denial. some jealousy aspect needs to get involved tho. idk how yet, i need to cook on that more, but i need jealous uramichi. i think he'd be like an angry sulky cat. no i need him to get so jealous he drags me away all dramatic ASK ME THIS AGAIN LATER I NEED TO REALLY COOK ON IT.

[nkn0va]

THE LAST MINUTE RUSHED AS HELL CHRISTMAS EVENT

I'm writing this shit on Christmas Eve night, speedrun mode activate

Thanks to everyone who submitted and supported this rushed thing here. Hopefully next year if we last that long I'll be able to give you all something better. And hopefully none of this comes off as too half-baked.

Fun fact: Blazblue was not a two way, not a three way, but a FOUR WAY TIE, EVERYONE WANTED A DIFFERENT CHARCTER

To settle this dispute, I did it in the only appropriate way I knew how:

We will be revealing the winners for each fandom as voted for by the submissions and the prompts that have been chosen as we go along here.

Without further ado, enjoy the first ever seasonal event on the NKN0va blog. Hope you all have a jolly Christmas day.

(Spoilers mentioned for Persona 5 Tactica in that section, proceed with caution)

Helltaker: Judgment's S/O getting her to ice skate with them on Christmas

-You bring this idea up to Judgment on Christmas Day after breakfast, much to the fallen angel's confusion.

-She has heard of skating before, and knew that there was a kind of skating specifically for doing it on ice, but that sounded extremely dumb and quite dangerous, especially to regular ol' fragile mortals like yourself.

-It takes a while, but she eventually gives in, she doesn't have the heart to shut you down entirely. Of course it's under the guise of protecting you and making sure you don't get hurt.

-It's best that you don't go to a public skating rink with her lest you get unwelcome stares from everyone and scare the children, so you manage to find a frozen lake somewhere with ice thick enough. Despite being alone, Judgment is still very much tense.

-Judgment for her part when she does get on the ice falls over a few times. Balance isn't her thing, but she does get it eventually, watching anxiously as she keeps an eye on you as you start getting on the ice.

-If you cannot skate she'll have a few words for you, but since you're already here you might as well do it together. She'll put your arm around you shoulders as she tries to keep you both upright until she is certain you can go on your own. Depending on your own balance this will have varying results.

-Consider her pleasantly surprised if you know how to skate without falling over, she thought you'd be struggling a lot more. Expect her to make some kind of competition out of the ordeal and taking it way too seriously. By the end you're aching all over and she has to carry you home. 10/10 would do again.

~~~

Under Night In Birth: Surprising Wagner with a Christmas Gift

(Thank you Vivian for breaking the tie this was way easier than if I got the alternative on a coin flip and had to do the other option instead)

-Wagner is no stranger to gifts. Especially super extravagant ones around the holidays thanks to her family background. This put you in quite the conundrum.

-As long as you've known the Crimson Knight, she's always been very hard to please. That fact that you're a normal person with a normal income also does not help matters. Trying to go extravagant enough to impress her would only break your bank in the process so you had to had to get more creative.

-You'd have to appeal more to her sentiment, and eventually an idea came. The only thing you knew of that appealed to her sentimentally enough was, well, you.

-Your gift searching soon turned into a craft session, taking photos from your phone of you two, printing them out, and putting them in a memories book of sorts and decorating it to what you felt was her liking.

-When the big moment came and it was finally in Wagner's hands, she sits there holding it like she doesn't know what the hell it is. It's only when it's opened that it clicks.

-She'll smirk and call it quaint in a half condescending, half endearing way. Some people might be offended by it, but you know better. This is her way of hiding her true emotions. Deep down this will be treasured for the rest of her life, anyone that dares touch it other than you will be turned to roast beef.

~~~

Persona 5: Erina ending up under the mistletoe with her S/O

(AU where Erina doesn't disappear after the events of the story)

-It had been quite a while since any holiday was able to be celebrated, thanks to Marie. There was a special feeling about Christmas this year around, being able to finally celebrate it peacefully.

-Erina for one seemed to be the most excited. Due to her...origins she'd never celebrated it properly before, and was learning the ins and outs of the festivities and traditions for the first time, her eyes lighting up at every new thing she saw.

-The two of you were walking around the town plaza taking in all the sights, watching as the citizens put up decorations. Out of nowhere, right in front of a bakery in the plaza, she stopped you and pointed up towards a strange looking plant hung on up one of the support pillars.

-While you were already dating Erina, it hasn't been all that long into the relationship, thus you were still taking to intimacy. With a slight bit of nervousness, you filled her in on what this mistletoe thing was.

-Erina takes in what you say with a thoughtful look. Then, as straightforward as ever, pulls you by your collar and gives you a longer than normal peck on the lips, pulling away with a slight redness on her face but a satisfied smile. She mentions how this might end up becoming a favorite holiday tradition of hers before dragging you through the city once more as if nothing happened.

-In all fairness, you probably should've seen that one coming.

~~~

AND TO BREAK THE STAGGERING (but probably not unexpected in retrospect) FOUR WAY TIE, THE WHEEL HAS DECIDED ON...

I see the audience has a particular type...

Blazblue: Nine's Christmas Day Celebration with S/O (post Dark War)

-While Nine is typically a very busy woman, she is extremely family oriented above all else. She will take holiday time off, regardless of what anyone says. Not like they can stop her anyway.

-Definitely the type to go all out to spoil the people important to her. Over the top decorations, forcing the weather control system to make a light but not overbearing snowfall, and as many presents as she can humanly think of.

-This is probably the happiest you've ever seen her. With all the tragedy in her and everyone else's lives over the past decade there's so rarely been a time to truly let her guard down and celebrate a holiday like a normal, happy, healthy person.

-She wants to do every traditional (and perhaps cliche) tradition she can think of. Between having largely no parents growing up and spending most of her life during war time she's never had the chance to do any of it. Decorating a tree, giving out deliberately wrapped presents to you and everyone else important to her, going out to see the magical and technological lights hung up around Ishana, having a fireplace lit up and watching old movies.

-This is her way of healing from the long lasting trauma inflicted on her by circumstances outside her control. If the holiday season is about the people important to you, then she wants to take that time to cherish those people while she still has the chance, even if she can have a hard time expressing that.

-Also you're probably gonna have to stop her from bullying Terumi even now. If left to her own devices she is dressing him up in the most stupid holiday themed shit imaginable for her own amusement. I'm talking reindeer antler headbands and a Rudolph nose.

[nothinggold13]

I’m of the belief that Father Christmas would have come to Narnia regardless of the English institution of the holiday in order to lead a celebration of who Christ is inside it!

I mean, there’s no indication in the books that Father Christmas is real in "our" world; he is the fictional embodiment of Christmas which children might believe in, but isn’t actually active— much like the “gods” who make appearances in Narnia. But Narnia was intended for people from our world to lead! So when they find themselves in a world of magic, they also find themselves coming face to face with legends and myths and fairytales from their own world! But real! And alive! And, most importantly, under the sovereignty of the One True King!

Father Christmas is one of these: a myth in our world which speaks to the magic of the Narnian world.

I absolutely think Frank & Helen contributed to the Narnian traditions of Christmas, too, of course— I have an ancient fic on that very subject! But in my fic it is not them who institute Christmas; Father Christmas comes because it is his time to come, and they join the celebration.

Do I think Lewis necessarily had all of that planned or remotely thought out when he had Father Christmas appear in LWW? Probably not; LWW is a very closed book in terms of worldbuilding, and the purpose Father Christmas serves in it doesn't affect the other stories in the same way. However, I don't think it was a sloppy decision to include him either! Consider the following: 1) Father Christmas signifies the Witch's spell breaking; winter is passing its darkest point and spring can now follow. 2) The books were written for children. Children like Santa. 3) For C. S. Lewis (Christian author) to write The Chronicles of Narnia (series based on suppositional Christianity), it makes perfect sense for his fantasy world (which is also Christian) to include Christmas (a Christian holiday)... especially once he wrote The Magician's Nephew and explained that the original King and Queen of Narnia were (Christians) from our world. He may have added that worldbuilding far later than he first set it up, but it does actually wrap that element up quite nicely.

AND SO, as far as the "etymology" of Narnia having, literally, "Christmas," I think it is quite simply 1) that Father Christmas is named Father Christmas, and he comes as a herald of all things Christmas celebrates, and 2) The first King and Queen of Narnia also would have been familiar with Christmas.

one must wonder what the etymology of Christmas is in Narnia. I believe jrr Tolkien also had this question but he was much angrier about it