#thx merlin

[aconfusedgoose]

AND DAN AND PHIL ARE BACK???

I started this year making a meme about John Green being back and I thought that would be the wildest thing to happen this year... Clearly I was wrong. I feel like the universe is just confused about what year it is... I'm in my mid 20s now and I don't need to be going through this again.

[pyrthcamelot]

I don't know if the problem is with the internet network or the website. It just keeps stuttering and the screen always freezes at the funniest moment.

I mean I know they are fighting for their lifes but still 😂

"I am trying to flirt. Am I doing it right? Does it work? Does it?"

✨ finger ✨

How DARE he be so beautiful?? 😭

disappointed husbands

just look at his face haha

[potpigu]

More dumb ship art of this two.. I don't think this Merlin got the outcome he was hoping for.(Like how I'll never get a neat writing style-

[tickle-bugs]

The Ol' Kentucky Welcome

Summary: Eggsy’s attitude gets him into trouble at Statesman HQ. Whiskey and Tequila show him how they handle mouthy recruits with too much pride.

Anon: Hey!  Love your work.  I was trying to think of something I haven't read.  So, kingsman and golden circle.  Maybe eggsy, whiskey, and Tatum s characters get real drunk one night, start teasing each other and a full out brawl of a tickle fight happens!!!  You can do it!!!  Thanks! 

Loose handwaving at and spoilers for Kingsman: The Golden Circle.

Becoming a Kingsman had done wonders for Eggsy’s impulse control and sense of self. He’s got restraint now, and better judgement—he doesn’t blindly chase a whim without considering the consequences first. 

This is what he tells himself as he poaches a bottle of premium Statesman Reserve whiskey from a supply closet rather ominously labeled ‘This Ain’t For Sharing, Friend’. He makes sure to shuffle the bottles to disguise the large gap left behind on the shelf.

He settles in at the Statesman briefing room table, loosening his tie and shirt collar. He unbuttons his jacket and, in a rare flash of bad manners, kicks his feet up onto one of the nearby chairs.

The thought of Harry scolding him for it tugs at chest. 

“Now what do we have here?” Whiskey whistles lowly, ducking into the doorway. Tequila fits in beside him. Eggsy gives a mocking salute before popping the cork on the bottle. He grabs a polished crystal glass from a platter on the table and pours himself a hefty bit. 

“Looks to me like we’ve got a thief, Whiskey.” Tequila arches his brow. “Y’ain’t learned your lesson yet, Galahad?”

“Gentlemen.” Eggsy smirks and lifts his glass. The sharp kiss of the liquor burns his tongue, but it washes back with a smoky smoothness unlike anything he'd ever tried. He smacks his lips loudly, enjoying the slight twitch of Whiskey’s eyebrow in response.

“Thought you fancy-types were supposed to be polite.” Whiskey puts his hands on his hips. 

“And I thought you brutish types couldn’t make something so delicious.” Eggsy angles the glass in the light. The liquid seems to glow. 

Tequila ducks past Whiskey and takes a seat at the table, helping himself to a glass. He clinks glasses with Eggsy and they share another sip. Both of them sigh in unison, sinking deeper into their chairs. Whiskey throws Eggsy’s feet off his chair and takes a seat. 

“You’re lucky I ain’t reportin’ you to Ginger Ale for theft.” Whiskey fixes himself a glass. He takes off his hat and rests it on the table. He shrugs off his jacket, draping it over the back of the chair.

“Report me for what?” Eggsy cocks his head. “You fine, upstanding gentlemen cracked open a bottle of your own reserve to share with your guest and I just had to say yes. Would hate to be impolite.”

Whiskey glares. Eggsy sips innocently. 

“I like this motherfucker, Whiskey.” Tequila laughs, muffling himself in his fist. Whiskey shifts his glare. 

“‘Course you do. You can’t keep your mug outta trouble to save your life.” 

“Least my mug ain’t ugly,” Tequila grumbles. Eggsy snorts. Whiskey turns to fish for a pack of cigarettes in his jacket pocket. As he leans forward, a silver shine peeks out of his pants pocket. Eggsy gently plucks a shiny lighter from Whiskey’s pocket and tucks it into his own. 

“Champagne mentioned you’re a cheeky bugger.” Eggsy knocks shoulders with Tequila and winks.

“I dunno what that means.” Tequila frowns. They both watch Whiskey fumble around for the lost lighter and keep smooth, straight expressions. 

“You get into shit. He’s fond of you?” Eggsy gestures at him. Tequila nods. 

“Yeah, well…he wasn’t always. I’ve always been a bit of a firecracker. Didn’t make the best choices. Got people hurt. Built up a reputation for bein’ a problem, and Champagne started makin’ me own it.” Tequila watches his whiskey swirl in his glass. Eggsy hums thoughtfully.

“Sounds like Harry. He didn’t let me get away with shit. If I did something reckless, it was my arse on the line. But sometimes it paid off.” Eggsy smiles and thinks of stealing Harry’s cab on his way out of initiation. 

“To good mentors.” Tequila inclines his head respectfully and raises his glass. Eggsy clinks their glasses together. 

The three of them pass the time draining the bottle and looking out over the twinkling lights of the distillery buildings. A boyish mischief settles into Tequila, one that grows as the liquor in the bottle sinks. Whiskey starts to slur his words, but he maintains a hunter’s focus. 

“Tell me somethin’, Eggsy. What brought you to Kingsman?” Whiskey watches him over the rim of his glass. His stare is piercing. 

“Hm. Harry did. Not so different from Tequila, I reckon. I’d made a right fuckin’ mess and Harry saved me from it. Gave me a job. He saw something in me that no one else did.” Eggsy traces his fingers along the edge of his cup. He glances absently towards Harry’s cell and sighs quickly. Whiskey follows his gaze. 

“Did your lepidopterist friend teach you to have sticky fingers, or do you just like causin’ problems?” Whiskey holds his hand out. Eggsy rolls his eyes and hands over the stolen lighter.

“I’ve always been good at nicking things. S’fun.” Eggsy grins and produces Whiskey’s wallet. Whiskey grumbles under his breath and snatches it. 

“Feels like you’re the only one of your people that ain’t all hoity-toity. What other secrets are you hiding?” Tequila leans forward. The question grates against Eggsy’s better instincts. He searches Tequila’s face for the slightest bit of ill will. All that sticks is the way light catches softly on his eyes. Eggsy hums and turns his eyes to the ceiling to think.

“Well, my girlfriend bein’ a princess isn’t much of a secret anymore, so…I was a gymnast for a bit.” Eggsy grins. Tequila’s eyes light up and he starts snapping in Whiskey’s direction. For each snap, Whiskey gives a disgruntled hm until eventually they’re just swatting at each other. 

“Whiskey, don’t we have them flippy bars down in the gym?” Tequila sniffs, blinking as the liquor hits his sinuses. Eggsy perks up. A spark of excitement picks up atop the warm flush of liquor in his stomach. 

“We do. For Statesman agents. Y’know Rum and Cognac get real touchy ‘bout their stuff.” Whiskey raises an eyebrow.

“Well, we’re workin’ together now, ain’t we? ‘Sides, Rum and Cognac ain’t here. Let’s walk him down there. I wanna see what he can do.” Tequila claps Eggsy on the shoulder. Eggsy gives his best winning smile. Whiskey grumbles, then downs the rest of his glass. 

“Fuck it. Fine. Five minutes.” 

…

They stumble down to the Statesman training facility, passing by a very tired Ginger Ale who opts not to ask why Eggsy’s wearing Tequila’s hat (pretty simple, it’s ‘cause he nicked it). Whiskey puts his thumb to a scanner and the wall unfolds for them. 

The lights click on in rows, lighting the industrial space. Eggsy gasps like a kid on Christmas morning. 

Sophisticated weight training and combat equipment sit in neat rows. Eggsy locks in directly past that, drifting unconsciously towards a heaping pile of chalk bags. Pommel horses, beams, bars, and hanging rings sprawl out on a spring mat, all in pristine condition. A few launchpads and trampolines lay near the equipment. Eggsy laughs incredulously as he takes it in. Nostalgia flutters in his chest. 

Eggsy immediately unbuttons his shirt, folding it cleanly and crisply. He shoves it and the cowboy hat into Tequila’s arms, adjusts his tank top, then works to unlace his shoes. The moment his feet are free, he sprints for one of the springboards. He hits it clean, just like he’d learned, and pushes off the vault, twisting through the air. His landing is a bit messy, but it’s functional, and he takes off to the parallel bars next.

The alcohol writhes in his system, but he doesn’t care. How can he? It’s been years. Coach’d told him he was good enough for the fucking Olympics and he hadn’t touched a set of bars since. The flex of the bars is a comfort to him. He flips and twirls, holding crisp handstands and tucks through muscle memory alone.

He dismounts beautifully from the parallel bars to the pleasant thrum of adrenaline and a smattering of applause. 

“Hoowee, that was somethin’!” Tequila ruffles Eggsy’s hair, destroying the last hold of the gel on his head. Eggsy laughs and swats him away. 

“Hats off to you, kid. Takes a lot of skill to pull that off.” Whiskey nods in respect. Eggsy returns it. 

“I ain’t gonna lie, I thought you were gonna fall on your ass. I’m impressed.” Tequila slugs his shoulder with a brassy laugh. 

“Thanks, Tequila.” Eggsy grins roguishly. “Mind givin’ me a boost?” 

“Sure.” Tequila follows Eggsy over to the high bar. Whiskey loudly clears his throat. 

“Boys, this has been…eye-openin’, but we really should get goin’. Early start tomorrow, I imagine. And this one’ll be fit to collapse when the time difference catches up.” Whiskey inclines his head towards Eggsy. 

“Sorry, bruv? Can’t hear you all the way over there.” Eggsy gestures to his ear with a cheeky grin. 

“I said—“

“No, no. If you have something to say, come whisper it in my fucking ear.�� Eggsy snickers, hearing Merlin’s voice in his head. Whiskey rolls his eyes and saunters over. 

“Look, I respect you ‘cause Champagne respects you. Other than that, you’re still a brat that oughta fall into line. Let’s turn in for the night. Both of you.” Whiskey raises his eyebrow. The honey tones of his voice make his annoyance all the more amusing. 

“What’re you gonna do about it? Get me with your skipping rope?” Eggsy smirks. Tequila mutters a quiet aw hell and takes a step back. 

“Maybe I will, you little shit.” 

Eggsy comes to terms with a number of things about himself in that moment, and he puts them all away to process sober. Instead, he gestures for Tequila to give him a hand and reaches up for the bar. 

Tequila picks him up by the waist, and it’s not the smooth, assisted lift he’s used to. It’s the clumsy grip of a drunk surprised by weight. Tequila does lift Eggsy up to the bar, but at the cost of his dignity— he spasms and makes a high-pitched noise when Tequila’s fingers press into his waist.  

In hindsight, he should’ve seen the way Whiskey’s eyes narrowed at that. 

“What the hell was that?” Tequila squints up at him. 

“Nothin’. Thought you were gonna drop me. Bugger off.” Eggsy kicks weakly in Tequila’s direction. He backs up, hands raised. Whiskey steps in, hands on his belt. 

“Get off the bar, Eggsy.” Whiskey sniffs authoritatively. The logical Kingsman agent buried in Eggsy’s brain sets off warning bells, but Drunk Eggsy, who is obviously of much sounder mind, ignores it. 

“Make me, Whiskey.” Eggsy starts to swing in the space he has. Not enough to kick anyone, but enough to look like he will. He manages to rotate clumsily around the bar once, then hangs back down in front of Whiskey. 

“You want me to embarrass you in front of your new friend? Okay.” Whiskey steps up to Eggsy and makes a show of sizing him up. Then, quicker than the draw of his pistols, his hands latch onto Eggsy’s sides and squeeze until he’s screaming and plummeting off the bar. Eggsy’s short life flashes before his eyes as he falls bodily into Tequila’s arms. 

“Are you fucking mental?” Eggsy goes to shove Whiskey, but Tequila holds him back. 

“Woah, watch that mouth of yours!” Whiskey laughs, eyes glittering. “You told me to make you. Your wish is my command, friend.”

Eggsy kicks, trying to break Tequila's hold, and he catches Whiskey right in the balls. He makes a noise like a wounded donkey and folds over. Eggsy snickers. Whiskey whips his reddening face up and glares. 

“Now you’ve done it. Tequila!” Whiskey tosses something his way and he catches it. Eggsy barely has time to react before his arms are bound and hoisted in the air above his head. His toes brush the ground. The bar above him creaks in protest but does not give. 

Whiskey puts his hands on his hips again. Eggsy wonders if that’s a cowboy thing or an American one. 

“Skippin’ rope, bitch.” Whiskey grins, sharklike. “Now…you done with the whole insubordination routine or am I gonna have to give you the ol’ Kentucky Welcome?” 

Eggsy snorts derisively. He tests his bindings. They hold steady. Fear starts to pierce through his liquid courage. 

“I’m honored, bruv, but I’m in a committed relationship—“

Whiskey clicks his tongue and crowds into Eggsy’s space. He immediately steels himself for violence—what else would there be besides violence? He’s been jumped before. He’s no stranger to the predatory tilt of Whiskey’s head. He sets his jaw and glares. 

“When Tequila first joined up, he carried a bit of them clownin’ instincts with him. That didn’t fly with Champagne. We had to figure out a way to take him down a few pegs without hurtin’ him. So, the Kentucky Welcome was born.” 

“Aw, fuck you, Whiskey. Seriously, man.” Tequila pipes up from behind Eggsy. 

“What does this have to do with me? I know you Americans love to hear yourself talk, but I’m not interested.” Eggsy tries to pull free. Nothing. Whiskey’s gaze gets softer, more mischievous. The change is deeply unnerving. 

“Well, you remind me of Tequila. You’ve clearly got a good head on your shoulders, but you’re a little shit. So I’m gonna deal with you the same way we used to deal with him. Last chance, kid. You comin’ quietly or are we gonna have to drag you?” 

Eggsy flinches when Whiskey reaches for him—years of habit die hard—and prepares himself for the hard crunch of knuckles into his ribs. Instead, he’s met with a gentle and persistent scritching. 

A confused noise bubbles up at the back of Eggsy’s throat, quickly chased by a wobbly smile. He ducks his head and bites his lip. 

Oh what the fuck? 

Kingsman had taught him to resist the most painful and stressful of scenarios, but they’d never taught him what to do about this. Tilde’s maybe the only person who knows that he’s ticklish, and even then…he can convince her to let him go by kissing her senseless. Eggsy doubts that’ll work here. 

“Uh oh, Galahad. Don’t tell me something’s botherin’ you?” Whiskey presses an insincere hand to his heart. Eggsy’s brain stutters for a moment as he realizes that Tequila’s the one scratching at his ribs. 

“Fffffuck you.” Eggsy exhales sharply through his nose and closes his eyes--nope, that’s worse. So much worse. 

Whiskey tickles under his arms and Eggsy yelps, bright laughter tumbling after. It shouldn’t be this bad—Tilde’s done far worse to him in jest, but somehow the teasing grin of his begrudging allies gets under his skin. His arms flex as he tries to pull himself up and away, but his strength collapses with every breath. 

“Aw, y’all are twins.” Whiskey leans around Eggsy to smirk at Tequila. 

“Whiskey.” Tequila’s languished tone being hilarious really doesn’t help things. Eggsy’s entire face scrunches as he tries to find his way back towards composure. A hiccup sneaks into his chest, and then he’s giggling incessantly. His chest feels like the sparklers he’d run around with as a kid, bright and fizzling and dissolving with every breath. 

“Y’know, I wish I had tried this when I first caught y’all. Prolly woulda gone a hell of a lot faster.” Tequila’s voice floats past Eggsy’s ear. Eggsy manages a giggly growl and a halfhearted headbutt in his direction. Tequila tuts at him and folds his fingers into Eggsy’s waistline. 

He makes a noise at a pitch that threatens to shatter every lightbulb in the room. Tequila’s calloused fingers strum Eggsy’s nerves like guitar strings and it tickles, fucking shit—

Tequila hooks his fingers just so and Eggsy kicks. Whiskey snags his ankle before a second devastating impact can occur. They make tortuous eye contact. 

“Whiskey—“ Eggsy attempts to appeal to the cowboy’s humanity with what Merlin fondly calls his nuclear puppy eyes. 

Grinning wickedly, Whiskey shakes his head and reaches for his trapped foot. 

Eggsy’s eyes bug out of his head. 

He wrenches his leg free, twists his hands, and flips upwards. Managing a gold-worthy handstand into a dismount, he frees his wrists and lands smoothly. Eggsy playfully curtsies. Tequila starts to clap. Whiskey smacks him upside the head.

“Alright, I’m done playin’ around. Grab him. If we’re caught down here at this hour it’ll be my hide.” Whiskey gestures for Tequila to step in. He does so, still a little off-kilter from the liquor. 

Eggsy rushes in, expecting a clumsier rendition of the fighting style he’d been so painfully introduced to. Instead, Tequila smoothly blocks his blows and hoists Eggsy over his shoulder like a sack of fucking potatoes. One of his arms locks behind Eggsy’s thighs as they start to walk for the door. It takes him a moment to even process being upside-down. The sway of Tequila’s gait shakes some blood into his brain.

“Aw, y’all are twins.”

“—deal with you the same way we used to deal with him—“

A lightbulb clicks on in Eggsy’s head. He shouldn’t…but he could…but he shouldn’t—

He shoves his hands under Tequila’s arms. Before he can blink or breathe, they’re in a heap on the ground. Tequila’s cackling dead weight presses the air from Eggsy’s chest.

“Thought you’d put up more of a fight, bruv.” Eggsy’s eyebrows raise. Tequila shrieks at him in response. Eggsy manages to wiggle free and hop lightly to his feet as Tequila gathers his wits. 

“There’s one of you and two of us. Be wise.” Whiskey cracks his neck. Eggsy looks over at Tequila and smirks devilishly. Tequila pales. 

“I like those odds.” 

The flurry of motion as they charge each other sets off the ‘fight’ center in his brain, but there is some comfort in knowing no harm is on the table. Eggsy flips and twists out of their grasp, taking advantage of his flexibility to pull off increasingly ridiculous dodges. He neatly sweeps both Whiskey and Tequila’s legs out from under them. 

“Little help?” Whiskey gestures lamely at Tequila. 

“Nah, I’m done. Y’all are nuts.” Tequila lays on his back, putting his hat down over his face. He folds his arms behind his head. Whiskey curses at him. Tequila gives him the finger. 

Whiskey grabs Eggsy by the back of the shirt--really, he should know better--and Eggsy sweeps him again. Whiskey’s ready for it this time, though, and he manages a pin faster than Eggsy can roll away. Whiskey plants himself on Eggsy’s back like he’s settling on a bull. 

“Aren’t you tired? Goddamn.” Whiskey sighs. Eggsy winces at the texture of the mat against his cheek. 

It reminds him of Roxy and agonizing training sessions, of hours of sweat and bruising and his face stinging from being slammed into the mat. Even past the wave of grief, he remembers the shape of her smile when she would lecture him about letting her pin him on his stomach. 

“Indefensible,” she’d say, prodding the back of his ribs. “You’re a sitting duck like this.”

And every time he’d roll his eyes, hooking his fingers behind her knees--

Oh. Hm. 

As best as he can, he reaches back and latches onto Whiskey’s thigh, squeezing just above his knee. Whiskey hollers and tries to phase right through the floor. Eggsy rolls them over and pursues, squeezing and squeezing until Whiskey is a wheezing pile on the floor. 

Eggsy flips onto his feet. He knows he’s imagining the fond, ghostly squeeze on his shoulder, but he puts his hand on the spot anyways. 

“Now I’m tired. Goodnight, fellas.” Eggsy salutes with a wide grin, stepping over both cowboys. He gathers his belongings and saunters for the door, whistling pleasantly. 

Whiskey rubs a hand over his face as he stares up at the ceiling.

“Kid’s fuckin’ lucky I like him,” Whiskey grumbles, pushing himself up onto his elbows. 

“Might not wanna speak too soon. He took your hat.” Tequila puts his own ten-gallon back on his head and gestures towards the door with a whistle. Whiskey growls and shoots to his feet. 

“Motherfucker! Eggsy!”

[innovatorbunny]

i need you all to know that the artist for this CE has begun watching the animated barbie movies

[mak1lol]

i’d love to submit a request for my merlin design! thank you so much :]

Hope you like it ^^

[sunsetcurveauto]

I'm sorry, Arthur. But I don't want anyone to tell me who to be. I want to figure that out on my own. And don't you understand? I'm not the only one who gets to choose their own destiny now. We all do. Even you.

BBC Merlin x Ever After High - Merlin as Raven Queen, Daughter of the Evil Queen

[sadnymi]

HIYA,

I js wanted to ask if you could write a short oneshot about lazy tired sex with Mattheo after a long exhausting day? Like in the bathtub or in bed?

U don’t need to, this just has been on my mind for a long time

Thx pretty woman😋

Mattheo Riddle x reader

Warnings: smut , strong language - fluff.

The day had been nothing short of chaotic. Interviews, Quidditch practice, and the whirlwind that followed Mattheo everywhere had drained every ounce of energy from your body. By the time you stumbled back into his dorm, both of you were running on fumes.

You barely managed to kick off your shoes before collapsing onto the bed, limbs feeling like lead. Mattheo followed suit, dropping onto the bed beside you, his usual smirk replaced by a rare, tired smile.

"Merlin, we’re a mess," he muttered, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine.

You rolled onto your side to face him, eyelids heavy but unable to resist the pull he had over you. "Speak for yourself," you teased, though the smile tugging at your lips betrayed how worn out you truly were.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and lazy, matching the atmosphere. "You’re right, baby. I’m an absolute disaster," he replied, his hand finding its way to your waist, pulling you closer. "But you—you're perfect, even when you’re dead tired."

His lips brushed against your forehead, and you felt the warmth of his breath against your skin. Despite the exhaustion weighing you down, the magnetic pull between you was impossible to ignore.

You felt his fingers trailing up and down your side, sending tingles across your skin. "Mattheo," you whispered, the sound barely escaping your lips, but he heard it. He always did.

"Mhm?" he hummed, his mouth now moving to your neck, pressing slow, lazy kisses that made your pulse quicken.

"I don’t think I have the energy for this," you admitted, though you didn’t make any move to stop him.

A sly smile curved his lips as he gazed at you. “That’s alright, sweetheart. Just let me take care of you,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. Before you could respond, he was scooping you up into his arms, his strength effortlessly lifting you from the bed.

“Mattheo—” you started, but he silenced you with a quick kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a teasing softness.

“Shhh, love. You’re too tired, remember? Just let me handle everything,” he teased, his eyes glinting with mischief. As he carried you toward the bathroom, he continued in a low, sultry tone, “Can’t have my girl doing all the work, now can we? I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of.”

You felt your cheeks flush, your breath hitching as he set you down on the edge of the tub. The water was already steaming, filling the room with a soothing warmth. Mattheo’s hands were quick to undress you, his touch reverent yet teasing, as if savoring every second.

"Get in," he ordered softly, helping you slide into the water. The heat enveloped you, easing the tension in your muscles. You leaned back, watching as Mattheo undressed, his eyes never leaving yours.

When he joined you in the tub, he pulled you against his chest, his hands roaming your body with a slow, deliberate pace. "You feel so good," he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear. "So soft, so perfect."

Your breath hitched as his hand slid between your legs, fingers grazing over you with a featherlight touch that made you shiver. "Mattheo… please," you begged, your voice barely a whisper.

His lips curled into a smirk against your neck, his fingers continuing their slow, torturous movements. "Please what, darling?" he teased, his voice dark and silky. "Use your words. Tell me what you want."

"I want you," you breathed, your body trembling with need. "Please, Mattheo… I need you."

"You get me baby," he murmured, as he finally slipped inside you, drawing out a soft moan. "Always so sweet, always so eager for me."

His pace was slow, deliberate, matching the lazy, tired rhythm of your bodies. But there was nothing lazy about the way he touched you, every movement precise, every word dripping with heat. He kept whispering praises in your ear, his voice a constant murmur of affection and desire. "You’re heaven, baby. Watching you fall apart like this… it’s fucking heaven."

You were lost in him, your exhaustion forgotten as he took you higher and higher, every touch, every kiss pushing you closer to the edge. And when you finally came, your body trembling in his arms, you heard him whisper against your skin, "That’s it, love. That’s my heaven."

As the waves of pleasure washed over you, you felt his arms tighten around you, his lips pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "You’re mine," he whispered, his voice a low growl that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always mine."

"Always," you whispered back, your hand resting on his chest.

Your body felt completely spent, your limbs heavy and your mind wrapped in a warm haze. Mattheo was gentle as he helped you out of the tub, his hands steadying you as you stood on shaky legs.

He reached for a towel, wrapping it around you, his touch soft and caring as he dried you off. The warmth of the bath lingered on your skin, but it was the warmth of his hands that you craved, the way he treated you like something precious. With each stroke of the towel, he was meticulous yet tender, drying you as if you were the most delicate thing in the world.

"Stay still for me, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice soft, the earlier edge of desire replaced with a soothing calm. You obeyed, too tired to do anything else, too content to want to.

Once you were dry, he pulled his shirt over your head, the fabric soft and smelling of him. It was oversized, falling past your thighs, enveloping you in his scent. You sighed in contentment, feeling safe, protected.

He smiled at the sight of you in his shirt, his eyes softening as he reached up to gently towel-dry your hair, his fingers brushing through the damp strands.

"You look good in my shirt," pressing a kiss to your cheek, lingering there for a moment.

With a gentleness that made your heart ache, he scooped you up again, carrying you effortlessly back to the bed. He laid you down carefully, arranging the pillows behind you before sliding in beside you.

You nestled against him, your head resting on his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful state. his hand found its way to your hair, his fingers weaving through the strands with a slow, soothing rhythm.

He stayed like that, playing with your hair, his other arm wrapped securely around you. "You’re safe," he whispered, his voice barely audible as sleep began to claim you. "I’ve got you."

You let out a content sigh, your body relaxing completely as you felt the last remnants of tension slip away. his fingers continued their gentle movements, his touch like a lullaby, coaxing you closer to sleep.

"Sweet dreams, my love," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, even as your eyes fluttered shut, his presence grounding you, comforting you in a way nothing else could.

And as you drifted off, the last thing you felt was the warmth of his hand in your hair, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath you, and the quiet reassurance that he would be there when you woke up.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

-I really hope that was at least close for what you wanted and you enjoyed it thank you so much for your request 💗

[vandalyssm]

Merlin Takes No Shits AU (crack)

Enemy of the Week: Hah! What can a filthy, pathetic, lowly servant like you possibly do without the protection of your prince?

Merlin:

Merlin:

Merlin: Hasta la vista, bitch (shitty fireball cgi)

---

Gaius: What were you thinking?! The king could have sentenced you to death! Have you any sense of self-preservation, boy?

Merlin: No

Gaius: ...And?

Merlin: ???

Gaius: Do you have anything to say for yourself?

Merlin: Nah lol

---

Arthur: Tell me, Merlin, do you know how to walk on your knees?

Merlin: ...Are you propositioning me?

Arthur: (wide eyes) (blush)

Arthur: You—Of course not! What is wrong with you?

Merlin: Cause if you were, I wouldn't turn your offer down. (easy smirk)

Arthur: (jaw drop)

Merlin: See you around, stranger.

[Silence as Merlin strides away]

Arthur: (shouts) I am the prince. You can't just walk away from me!

[Merlin waves without looking back]

---

[Merlin enters the Dragon's cave for the first time.]

Khilgharrah: How small you are for such—

Merlin: Can you, for the love of the Gods, shut up with the mindspeak? I'm trying to sleep.

Kilgharrah: (shocked)

Merlin: thx (leaves)

---

Merlin: (mutters) dayum shawty thy bumcheeks should be illegal

Arthur, who's not deaf: WHAT?

Merlin: what

---

Uther: [hate speech about sorcerers]

Merlin in the background, seething: 🤌🤌🤌

[wizgays]

WIP Snip!!

gosh it’s been forever idek anyone anymore 😭 don’t feel pressured by this tag 🏷️

@daddiesdrarryy @quicksilvermaid @thecouchsofa —> (oops, spoiler alert)

a lil excerpt from my first long fic that’s been a wip for five years.

Turning Darkness into Gold

——————

Draco’s words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his unresolved grief and anger. He was torn between the urge to lash out and the desperate need to be understood.

Potter’s voice broke slightly, “You aren’t the only one who lost everything.”

At that, Draco frowned, his mind reeling.

He had always imagined Potter’s life as perfect; untouched by the darkness that was consuming his. Potter was the hero, the one who had it all – friends, admiration, a future paved with endless possibilities.

But now, as he stood there and heard the crack in his voice, Draco wasn’t too sure of that anymore.

Without realising, Potter had reached out and brushed his hand gingerly against Draco’s forearm.

He flinched slightly at the contact, a subtle gasp escaping his lips. It was enough to make him pause, his sorrow momentarily quieted by the unexpected delicacy.

The touch carried a tenderness that contrasted sharply with their intense discussion, awakening the lights around them. They grew in luminosity and enveloped them in a soft glow.

He found himself drawn to the wordless understanding that seemed to flow between them.

And Merlin, Potter had aged like a piece of art over the years – his features had sharpened, as if time had chiselled away the softness and revealed the traces of his past.

Now, standing this close, with Potter’s hand still brushing against his arm and moving down toward his wrist, his rough fingers caressing the skin where the Dark Mark once held power, Draco felt long-buried feelings beginning to resurface.

He found himself frozen, unable to move under his touch.

He glanced down, following Potter's fingers with his eyes, each movement sending chills down his spine.

His fingers stopped at a distinct ridge of the scarring, giving Draco the impression he was aware of the damage on his skin. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if Potter was offering a silent apology for it.

Draco didn’t want this moment to end, and savoured the mysterious way Potter’s touch seemed to soothe him.

——————

aaah im so excited to post this, but its only half way or something 😭

thx for the tag!! @smehur

[kitkat-the-muffin]

Oh he’s definitely alive, I think he went through a similar process to Mina though. He didn’t drink any of Drac’s blood but I’m sure Drac drained some of his, which is why the nuns told Mina he had been throwing fits when hospitalized (the evil was being forcefully pushed out of him by the “healing power of jesus” lol)

Mina is currently still alive which is why she hasn’t gone full vampire yet, and I think the same is for Jonathan

However, drinking Drac’s blood has put Mina in a whole different kind of danger, which is why the paper burned her forehead

So the reason Jonathan’s hair turned white is because Dracula is draining his life force to make himself young right?

This is 100% a theory btw it’s just that Seward mentioned Jonathan looks older since his hair changed color, though he could just be referring to how haggard the situation has made him

His hair didn’t turn white until the night Dracula came for Mina, though, so I wonder just what Dracula did to him that made this change occur over night 😔

[mindsplittin]

JIMIXE TRAVEL TRAVEL FIC

So i've been working on an Time Travel AU fic for like months and i got the first draft finally complete 😂 Man, i'm so happy with it as it up to 4000 words. It was supposed to 3000 but its probably gonna be shorten during editing.

The au is based on much worse ending than ROTT, basically higher body count and they don't figure out how to use Krohnisfere until a year later thx to Merlin's Grimoire. Jim is 19 in this AU while Douxie is still an immortal wizard.

I'll be posting it on AO3 when i'm done!

[booksandpaperss]

For the fanfic writer ask game, 💌🚀💥🏷🤩 !!

hi hinta! I’ve already answered the first two here and here but I’m happy to do the rest :3

💥 What is one canon thing that you wish you could change?

so I think the only other show I’ve felt this way for is arcane, but there’s genuinely not a single thing about bsd canon that I would change! I feel like everything asagiri writes serves the exact purpose it was meant to serve for the exact characters it was meant to develop. now if you had asked me about any of my other interests (jjk, ml, pjo, merlin-) I prob would’ve had a lot to say here lmaoo

🏷 Is there a tag you like to search for when looking for fanfics to read?

i actually do not trust most fandom tags and this goes for any fandom 😭 usually I just follow bookmark chains and author pages to find fic but I do always love to see the hurt/comfort tag in my searches (and the skk unconventional mating rituals tag for bsd specifically lmao)

🤩 What led to your interest in the fandom?

well you see I was in a server with my jjk mutuals and they all collectively held me at gunpoint to watch bsd and by the time I had binged thru to season 3 I was so obsessed. I stood no chance

thx for the ask!

[hannahhook7744]

for the merlin game: 2, 6, and 19

2. Favorite non canon ship.

Does it count if I basically created it? If so, Will and Elena because I think they'd work well together and it would open Will's mind up a bit.

They're together in my Modern Merlin au and an au which I haven't written or posted yet.

If not, Perwaine because it's charming.

Also the comedic material is also fun. They're chaotic and will have fun together.

6. Worst thing you think Arthur ever did.

I was gonna say the whole basically never bringing up Will again thing because that's a crappy thing to do to a friend (not allowing them to speak about their past friends because of your own bias) but at the same time that was probably more of a writing issue.

You could argue him killing Freya should be my answer but he didn't know the story or that she and Merlin were in love.

So... My answer is...

THE TIME HE HELD A CHILD CAPTIVE.

19. Things about canon you ignore.

Look, I love Arthur and I can be forgiving about a lot of things. But this is one of the times I was fully disgusted with his behavior.

It could be just me but I was just really disappointed with him, Gwaine, and Merlin there.

Thx for the ask!

[star4daisy]

sunday snippet!!

thx for tagging me @themuseoftheviolets

I haven't written anything in weeks (except for the posted rosekiller hockey one-shot and I don't count those lol) so here's the last thing I wrote for the marydorlene fic

“Who the fuck is Marlene?” Barty frowned at her as he kept trying to bat Evan’s fingers away from his neck where he was trying to adjust the Ravenclaw scarf Barty had insisted on wearing, even if Pandora was not on the team, they would have rooted for whatever team was going up against Gryffindor. “McKinnon.” “Why? You interested?” Evan raised his eyebrows. “I’m just curious, I felt a vibe,” she shrugged, trying to pretend like her heart wasn’t trying to claw its way out of her chest. Regulus was studying her closely. “We all know you can’t tell who’s queer to save your life.” “And yet I knew you were gay the second I saw you,” she smiled victoriously at him. Barty laughed, “Not that it’s hard to call that one out,” while Regulus remained unaffected as he said. “Thank Merlin for that.” “Emmeline had to kiss her twice before Dorcas realised maybe she wasn’t just into guys,” Pandora teased her. “She didn’t realise.” Regulus snorted. “I still had to give her a hint.” Dorcas crossed her arms and made a point to keep looking at the match. “She’s just so… She looks very straight,” it didn't sound as good of a defence as it had in her mind. “And plenty of straight girls kiss their friends when they’re drunk.”

np tags: @jaylienpotter @kat-xox @graveryavery @moonytoastandbowie

[ellorypurebloodculture]

Fsf req evan rosier barty crouch jr regulus black triad~ thx

"Do you have any idea what an absolute nightmare the betrothal contract negotiations will be if I agree?" Heir Regulus Black demands. "I'm Heir Black now that Siriana bonded with Heir Potter and the two of you are Heir Rosier and Heir Crouch; the logistics will be ... Merlin, I genuinely pity anyone who would be forced to figure out how we would manage three duchies and all the titles simultaneously."

"That didn't sound like a no," Heir Evan Rosier states as he takes a step closer to Regulus before glancing sideways at Heir Bartemius Crouch Jr., "did it, Barty?"

Barty's tongue flicks out of his mouth and licks the corner of his lips, which are curling in a triumphant smirk, before saying, "I didn't hear a no either."

"Of course, it's not a no," Regulus rants, trembling with excitement that's too intense for him to conceal, "can you imagine what we can accomplish with access to the combined power of three Most Ancient Houses?"