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retvenkos · 3 years

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words | a.p.

Merlin (BBC) - Arthur Pendragon x Reader, fluff

tw: mentions of battle, mentions of blood, mentions of violence

word count: 1.4k

A/N: once again, if we can just pretend i know how to write a kiss, i would be much obliged.

prompt: I’m sitting with my back to the fireplace, and my back is burning but my feet are cold, and you are sitting across from me and i think you’re smiling endearingly, but it’s hard to tell.

(Y/n) and Arthur had been friends since childhood, and as such, everyone in the castle knew that where (Y/n) wandered, the prince was not far behind. As it was with any young prince, Arthur Pendragon was a mosaic made of contradictory statements and confusing ideologies, but the one certainty was (Y/n) and his devotion to them. The entire world could be ending, but as long as you knew where (Y/n) was, then you could find the wayward prince. The whole of Camelot knew that the two of them were inevitable, like a prosperous spring after early showers of rain, but exactly when the two would realize this themselves was unknown.

But then, again, how could not know? Surely (Y/n) noticed Arthur’s constant loyalty, interspersed with that intense and unwavering feeling of love, and certainly Arthur had to realize (Y/n)’s particular fondness mixed with the steadfastness of their adoration.

It seemed unrealistic to think that the two didn’t realize they loved the other more deeply than anything. But perhaps they had gotten too comfortable in their love for the other, and recognizing it was like trying to put a name to a feeling they had carried their entire life, so deeply set into their bones it was a fact more than anything else.

Whether they put a name on their true feelings or not was of little consequence. There was nowhere one of them could go where the other would not follow. That was made succinctly clear when Arthur had to go to an outlying village some two days' ride from Camelot to bring peace amongst the people and raiders who were taking much needed grain. It was the heart of winter, and the days were cold enough to make any man wish he were dead, not to mention the freezing nights. Arthur and (Y/n) argued for days over whether or not (Y/n) would join him, but in the end, the two rode off together with a few other knights.

The fight was fairly mild, when all things were considered. Both sides were strong in their resolve to fight, but only so much blood could be spilled before the raiders could no longer justify their stance. When it was all over, Arthur immediately searched for (Y/n), ignoring the deep cut on his cheek in favor of making sure they were alright.

They were fine, without so much a scratch on them, but when they saw the state of Arthur, they were quick to reprimand him. They had patched him up immediately, their fingers cold against his flushed cheeks.

Arthur insisted he didn’t need help - especially when other men were worse, but when (Y/n) had finished, he thanked them sincerely.

(Y/n) kissed his forehead with an absent-minded “Of course,” and moved on to help the other injured. Arthur had watched them retreat with a smile that made his newly patched cheek burn.

The ride back to Camelot was faster than the ride from - everyone was eager to escape the biting winter and sleep on something other than frost and snow. They returned home late at night, after King Uther and many others had gone to bed, so Arthur had resolved to bring news to his father in the morning, telling everyone to get some well-deserved rest.

When walking into the castle, (Y/n) had shivered from the cold and Arthur insisted they come to his chambers and warm by the fire. The knights around them shared looks, raising their eyebrows and nudging each other in the ribs, but neither (Y/n) or Arthur seemed particularly fazed by their behavior.

Inside Arthur’s chambers, the fire burned brightly, emanating a warmth that made both draw close. (Y/n) sat down on the hearth, rubbing their hands together and putting them close to the flames, and Arthur watched them with a tenderness in his gaze. The fire made (Y/n’s eyes sting and they turned their back to the flames, rubbing their toes and pulling off their socks.

“Need a blanket?” Arthur asked, but he was already retrieving two, handing the thicker one to (Y/n). They took it from him with a soft ‘thank you’ and Arthur pulled up a chair to sit in, much preferring it to the hard stone.

“How’s your cheek?” (Y/n) wrapped the blanket around them, their eyes trained on Arthur as he made himself comfortable near the fire, across from them.

“Eh,” Arthur made a non-commital noise and (Y/n) rolled their eyes. Arthur smiled, “It’s alright. You could make a decent physician if Gaius took you in.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “And deal with the idiotic injuries of knights all day? I’ll find something else to occupy my time.” It was hard for Arthur to see their face, with the fire to their back, but he could guess at how their lips were tugged into a grin, their eyes alight with mirth. He fiddled with the laces of his boots, taking them off so he could warm his freezing toes. “Dealing with you is enough to give me a heart attack, I don’t think I could handle worrying over anyone else.”

“Worrying over me?” Arthur laughed, and the sound of it echoed through the room, clear and warm, laced with enough affection to make even the most cold hearted misers smile. “Bit of a lost cause, isn’t it?”

(Y/n) joined in his amusement with laughter of their own, soft but present. “You wouldn’t believe.” They tilted their head and the curve of their cheek was illuminated by the fire, the light caressing the right side of their face and shedding light on the affectionate vulnerability in their gaze. “But I’ll always worry over you, Arthur. It’s inevitable.”

Arthur fiddled with the ring on his finger, tearing his gaze away from (Y/n). It was hard to tell, with the dark of night upon them and the fire casting them in odd, ever changing shadows, but the smile on his face almost seemed endearing.

“So it’s rather pointless to try and get rid of me.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. ”Rid of you? What makes you think I’d want to get rid of you?”

“I never said you wanted to, dollop head—” Arthur guffawed, much to (Y/n)’s delight “—only that you couldn’t.”

“Well, maybe I should reconsider my previous statement.”

A comfortable quiet settled between them, and for a moment the two just looked at the other, not trying to do anything other than relax. There didn’t seem to be anything more perfect than what lay between them - a content sort of love that went beyond need for the world.

“You did well, back in the village,” (Y/n) eventually spoke and their voice was soft, barely heard over the noise of the flames. Arthur leaned back in his chair with a sort of amused confidence and (Y/n) scoffed. “I mean it. You’re going to be kind one day, and I’m not worried about how you’ll turn out.”

Their words struck a chord in Arthur, something deep that made him sober for a moment. “So long as you’re by my side, I’ll be fine.”

(Y/n) nodded slowly, but averted their gaze, a tinge of sadness making its way into the way they bent their head. “Don’t you think you’d want someone else at your side? You’re the future king of Camelot, Arthur. Those are large shoes to fill. Don’t you think your time is better spent with others?”

Arthur blinked, genuinely confused, but he stopped himself from rushing into an answer. There was a vulnerability in (Y/n)’s voice that stopped and reminded Arthur of how precious this moment was, and the delicacy with which things like love had to be handled.

When he spoke, Arthur caught their eye, refusing to let them go. “Time better spent than with the person I love?” And the intensity of his being lay within his eyes; the strength that was so characteristic of the prince, (Y/n) doubted whether he existed beyond it.

“Love,” (Y/n) smiled, testing out the way the word rolled over their tongue. Strange, how it felt no different than Arthur’s name itself, or any other words that were meant for him. “It’s silly we haven’t said that to each other before.”

“Not really,” Arthur leaned back in his chair, a smile of his own growing on his lips, “I don’t think we ever needed it, before now.”

“Yes, well,” (Y/n) drew nearer to Arthur, the thick blanket around their shoulders dragging behind them, “I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

Arthur kissed them, his hands as warm as his heart, after having sat in front of the flames for so long, and (Y/n)’s touch was on fire, searing their every movement into his memory forever. When they pulled away, Arthur leaned his forehead against theirs. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

-- taglist: @locke-writes, @randomfandomimagine, @brokenandheadoverheels // message me if you want to be added!

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon x reader #arthur pendragon x you #merlin #gender neutral reader #reader insert #fluff #one shot #imagine #arthur pendragon imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #holiday prompts #tw mentions of blood #tw mentions of battle #tw mentions of violence

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chuchiotaku · 3 years

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[Preview] TBA 17: Hatch and Flight

Did someone miss a certain baby dragon? Ron definitely did not, but whether he likes it or not, Norberta is coming to officially be his problem.

[Target Release Date: May]

It was a cool Saturday afternoon when Ron came to the Ancient Runes study club classroom to see Professor Hui, excited butterflies fluttering in his stomach. It was going to be the first day of what Hui called their “wand aptitude tests” sessions, and Ron was both nervous and eager to find out just how different these sessions will be compared to his experience with Ollivander.

There was also a bit of good news Ron wanted to share. “I don’t know why it worked, but it did, Professor!” Ron said happily over the tea Hui served him—a light but distinct, slightly bittersweet herbaceous blend Hui called “matcha”—while raising Charlie’s old wand. “Charlie looked at me like I had gone a bit barmy when I told him about it, but after he asked the wand to play nice, it worked.” He paused. “Well, it’s not perfect, but at least it’s not actively trying to make my life hell.”

“I’m glad to hear it, Mr. Weasley,” Hui held the wand appraisingly before nodding. “The way this wand feels in my hands proves your statement. Of course, as you have said, it is not the perfect solution, as the wand may be doing this only out of respect to your brother. There is no way of knowing up to how far will the wand cooperate with you with that in mind.”

“It’s still mind-boggling how the wands act more sentient than I thought.” Ron said honestly. “Makes me wonder if talking to it will help. Like it getting to know me or something like that? Does that even make sense?”

Hui smiled. “Absolutely. Magical folk who showed respect towards wands and magical objects create the most steadfast of bonds with them, with some so strong that no one but those who the object consider their rightful owners can ever wield or touch them even. Can you think of any magical object that was strongly associated with any figure in history?”

Ron’s mind went back to the History of Magic lessons he had with Percy. “Err, Excalibur? King Arthur Pendragon’s sword?”

“Excalibur was the sword the Lady of the Lake handed to Arthur Pendragon in exchange for a favour, yes, but over time, Arthur managed to imprint a part of himself into that blade, the same way Excalibur did on him. The same can be said with Arthur’s first sword, Caliburn, which chose him to be the Once and Future King, the only one who could pull it out of the stone.” Hui paused for a sip of his tea. “And there are other examples throughout history I can name: Manannan mac Lir’s kin and Fragarach; his own descendant, Cú Chulainn and Gáe Bolg; Guān Yǔ, a legendary Chinese general hailed to be a war God, and the Qīng lóng yǎnyuèdāo; Parashurama then his pupil, Karna, and the bow, Vijaya, said to be a gift from the Hindu God of Destruction, Shiva. But since you’re not here for a history lesson, let’s move on, shall we?”

Ron blinked. “But aren’t most of them myths?”

“If that is what the storytellers want you to believe.” Hui said cryptically. “And whether you will believe that I have seen at least one of them with my own eyes or not is just as much up to you.”

Ron did a double-take. “You what?”

“We could discuss it further another time, as always. But we are here for your aptitude assessment."

“If Percy hadn’t told us about the surprise party he and the twins have been planning since yesterday, we never would have found out.” Harry said, still obviously miffed about it.

“Oi, it’s not that I can just go and tell you lot, ‘Oh, by the way, my birthday is on 1st of March, just so you know.’” He said in exasperation.

“And it’s just not fair, since you know all of our birthdays!” Hermione pointed out. “I don’t even know how you found out!”

Ron shrugged. “Harry’s and Neville’s were pretty obvious. As for yours, I have my ways.”

Neville shook his head. “You and your mysteries, Ron.”

“But I think it’s great you are part of the surprise. Really means a lot to me that you went through all the trouble.”

“We’re your friends, Ron!” Hermione said in exasperation. “And it’s no trouble, really. You’re the one who kept saying I needed a break from my books every now and then, weren’t you?”

Ron laughed. “Right.”

“And you looked like you needed the break too.” Neville added. “You’ve been looking out of sorts for a while now. It’s got nothing to do with the you-know-what, does it?”

The time traveler’s gut clenched at the worry in his friend’s eyes. He should have known his friends would have noticed his sudden change in mood. Did his brothers notice too, he wondered? Was that why they organised this surprise party?

What the hell are you doing, Ron?

“I’m really sorry about that, Nev. It wasn’t even anything too important anyway,” said Ron, “Was just too worried over what-if’s that I really can’t do anything about.”

“If it’s something we can help with, you know you can tell us,” Hermione said. “Well, even if it might not be something we can help with, you can tell us anyway.”

“My Gran always said that we shouldn’t try to worry too much about the future. Makes us lose sight of what’s in front of us.” Neville said kindly. “And besides, whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it!”

Ron winced. “I wish I knew where your faith in me is coming from, Nev.”

“And I wish I knew where yours kept disappearing to.” Harry said sharply.

“Somewhere in the real world, I reckon.” Ron shrugged. “But Neville’s right. No sense worrying too much over something that isn’t here yet. I’ll deal with it when it comes, just like I always do.” He clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder. “And I’m glad I have such wicked mates to knock some sense into me whenever I get lost in my own head!”

And Ron meant it. Maybe it was a consequence of being a time traveler, but Ron became more prone to overthinking things and events to the point where he blocked everything else out. Having his friends there to pull him out of his self-made burrow of anxiety and careful planning helped in not only relieving him of some of that burden, but also in reminding him about the importance of what was in front of him right now.

But Norberta. Oh, Merlin, Norberta. That fucking dragon I can definitely do something about.

#harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter Ron Weasley #ron weasley fanfiction #ron weasley defense squad

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hayleysstark · 5 years

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Rest

Words: 1462 Warnings: None Summary: “Merlin,” Arthur says, “go back to bed.” / “What?” Merlin scoffs, and wobbles where he stands. “Why?”

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"Merlin," Arthur says, except, well, no, he doesn't say it, really, he just sort of sighs it, actually, and yes, he knows he should try and be a bit nicer about it—Merlin looks absolutely miserable, after all—but also, he doesn't say God, you're really just completely useless, aren't you, and he doesn't say what the hell do you think you're doing and he doesn't say is this a joke or are you really so stupid, and really, that's nice enough, isn't it, "go back to bed."

"What?" Merlin scoffs—or he tries to scoff, at least, but he also wobbles where he stands, and the sudden string of shakes and shudders really just clinches it. "Why?"

Arthur rolls his eyes. God, he can't believe the idiot even has to ask—wait, actually, yes, he can, honestly, how can a man as stupid as this still walk the streets every day and not get himself killed in seconds? "That's an order, Merlin. Get some rest. I have no need of you for the rest of today."

Merlin scowls. "I don't need to go back to bed," he says, and very petulantly, too, a little bit like a child in desperate need yet steadfast refusal of a nap—all right, no, a lot like that, actually, he sounds a lot like that, except he would probably—no, definitely—hex Arthur from here to Tintagel and back again if Arthur tried to point this out.

On a very unrelated note, Arthur doesn't point this out.

"Don't be an idiot," he says, instead—oh, damn it, that's the whole be nice to Merlin thing down the well, isn't it? But it's not like it would have lasted very long anyway, so he doesn't really worry about it. "You can hardly stand up—honestly," he clicks his tongue, and he does not let himself think about how much he sounds like Guinevere, in this moment, when she fusses over Merlin like she's his mother, because he's not fussing, absolutely not, kings do not fuss, not even over idiot sorcerer servants, "you hardly woke up an hour ago, how did you get Gaius to let you come all the way here in the first place? I thought he said you had to stay in bed 'til morning."

Merlin huffs out one of those affronted little breaths he always does whenever he's about to be immensely unreasonable, or more immensely unreasonable than usual, and he never takes his hand off the edge of the table, and Arthur's pretty certain that's the only way he's stayed on his feet this long at all. "I don't need Gaius to let me do anything."

Arthur just raises his eyebrows.

A pink flush dusts Merlin's pale cheeks, and the tips of his ears turn a bit red. "Gaius went out," he mutters. "To see to Lord Wesley."

Yeah. All right. There it is. Arthur nods. "Well, you do happen to need me to let you do things, and all I'm going to let you do right now is go to your bed. You look like you're about to fall over."

"I'm fine!" Merlin says, indignantly, except he wobbles again. "Look! See! Back to normal!"

"Right," Arthur says, sharply, because he's actually—yeah, he's actually mad now, he's moved far past irritated at this point, "sorry, I suppose I just forgot how 'normal' means three seconds from another of your little swoons—"

Merlin's knees buckle.

—oh, shit, wait, no, I didn't mean it, I don't actually want—

Arthur bolts halfway across the room to reach him, grab onto him, to help him, to haul him back up before he can hit the floor and crack his head on the hard stone, or the sharp edge of the table, and he gets a hand—by an actual, honest-to-God miracle, he gets a hand on Merlin's shoulder and pulls him back up off his knees and the whole be nice to Merlin thing is most definitely going to absolutely rot down in the damned well, because how stupid do you have to be—?

"—all—all r-right—" Merlin sputters, and tries to push himself back up on his feet, tries to stand up on his own, but he lets out a sharp gasp, and a spasm of pain flickers across his pale face, "—all right, I'll—I'll go back to bed."

Arthur really wants to say I told you so—he really, really wants to say it, if he's honest with himself, I told you to just go back to bed, you idiot, I told you to get some rest, and he's got it on his tongue, on his lips, but he takes one look at Merlin, his face white as bone and all scrunched up, his eyes dull and glazed over with pain, his shaking hands pressed to the side of his head, and a thin little trail of bright red blood streaking out the side of his mouth, and Arthur swallows it all back.

He wants to take Merlin to Gaius, if he's honest with himself, he really wants to take Merlin to Gaius and just get on with his day, because God knows Gaius can always handle Merlin no matter how stupid or stubborn the idiot is—Gaius is the only one, Arthur thinks, sometimes, who can handle Merlin at all, really, but Gaius is also gone, Merlin's just said it himself, he went out to see to Lord Wesley, and damn it, Merlin, why do you have to be so stupid at the absolute worst moments—?

"No, Merlin," and he sort of sighs it, again, "no, don't, just—" he slings his arm around Merlin's skinny shoulders and he helps—no, he leads—erm, no, it's more like he steers—all right, no, there's really nothing else for it, is there—he carries Merlin. Like a maiden or a damsel, or something, he carries Merlin all the way over to the unmade bed, and really, his only consolation is, he's pretty damn sure Merlin is a hundred thousand times more humiliated about this than him, "just—just stay here."

Merlin blinks. His mouth edges down in a frown. "—no—Arthur—" he tries to get back on his feet, "—I-I can't—it's your bed—"

"Yes," Arthur says, and he pushes Merlin back down onto the wrinkled and still-warm sheets, "very well spotted. Whatever would we do without you."

"—but—I—" Merlin doesn't try and get back up, this time, but he shakes his head, and his face looks nearly grey against the crisp white of the sheets, "—I can't sleep in your bed—"

Arthur scoffs, and kneels down to loose the silver buckles on Merlin's pathetic, worn-out boots—he doesn't think the idiot can do it for himself, with how bad his fingers have started to tremble in the last few moments. "Honestly, Merlin, do you really think you could make it all the way back to your chambers like this?"

Merlin goes pink again and tries to swat Arthur's hands away from his boots. "Stop it, don't do that, I'll take care of—"

Arthur pulls off Merlin's boots.

Merlin goes a bit pinker. "But—I—" he wipes at the small trickle of scarlet at the corner of his lips, "—I might—" he winces, "—get, um, blood, on your things, and that would be—kind of gross—"

"Yes, and you'll also be the one to clean it up," Arthur says, except he doesn't add but not a moment before you can actually stand up on your own two feet again, he just pulls all the quilts up to Merlin's waist—and, no, he's absolutely not tucking the idiot in or anything ridiculous like that, it's just that Merlin really looks like he could hardly lift a feather right now and also, the quilts are heavy and thick and woolen, and it would just waste time, yes, exactly, that's exactly it, see, it would just waste time to sit around and watch the idiot try and do it on his own.

"—but—I—" Merlin scrubs at the blood again, but slower this time, and his eyes flutter shut, "—I don't—"

"Merlin," Arthur says, sharply, and he puts a hand to the idiot's shoulder to stop him, just in case he gets it in his head to try and get up again, "don't be stupid—I know that's a bit of a tall order for you, but—"

"You really ought to stop with all the compliments, Sire," Merlin breaks in, except he sort of half-slurs out the words, like a man fresh from the tavern, and his eyes have already started to flutter shut again. "We don't want Gwen to get jealous."

"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur says, but it’s absolutely wasted anyway because the idiot's already asleep.

#merlin #bbc merlin #emrys' spellbook

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