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magics-protector · 3 years

Text

Mountain Sound

Soulmate AU: Soulmates have one song that connects them - when one soulmate listens to it, they both can see each other.

The Song: Mountain Sound - Of Monsters and Men

(which I think fits Merlin absolutely perfectly)

Spotify, Apple Music, Youtube

A small kind of crack fic from my Everlast series - which will start up sometime this week because it’s Reading Week and I finally have time to write it!

With a soft sigh leaving her lips, Y/N fell into her chair, dropping the books she carried down onto the table. A long start to an already long day, if you asked her.

First, she had to help Jack get his hand out of a cookie jar (because apparently her adopted little brother couldn’t just ‘magic’ his way out of it). Then, her Uncle asked her to “help” with work on Baby’s engine - and by “help” she meant that he made her stand there while she held all his tools and wasn’t allowed to touch the engine itself.

Not that she could complain. It was nice having everyone home for once - not that it was going to last long. Hence the reason for all the books. A new day would bring new cases and as always, Y/N was responsible for research - being her father’s daughter had it’s disadvantages in that way.

Speaking of her dad, he sat across from her, eyes trained on the laptop in front of him as he searched and typed, falling into the same pattern quite easily. Pulling her knees up to her chest, Y/N opened the first book on her pile and began to research - so it seemed Dragons were the big enemy of the day.

As she read, Y/N started to notice writing she hadn’t seen in over a year. Language she hadn’t seen since she disappeared. It was the old language of the Druid People. Something she had learned to read over the years.

As she read on, Y/N noticed the old phrasing of the common Soulmate connection: “Songs and stories of different melodies and tunes. That is what shall lead thy heart to its destiny”.

“Huh, well that kind of sucks.” She said, meaning to think it but it just came out.

Sam pulled his head out of his computer and looked up. “What sucks?”

Y/N looked up from the book, motioning to the page. “The language in this book. It talks about the soulmate connection. You’d expect it to rhyme, but it doesn’t.”

A laugh like breath came from Sam as he shook his head. “Not all old texts have to rhyme, you know?”

Y/N scoffed with a smile. “I know that. I just think it would have been funnier and more romantic if it did.”

Then Y/N’s smile faded. “Hey, Dad?”

He hummed in acknowledgement as he looked down at his laptop again.

“What was your song? You know, your song with Mom?”

Y/N could see Sam tense at the question. Y/N had known for so long that her parents were in fact soulmates, but Sam never talked about her. The memory of Will was almost to painful for him to remember. Not the relationship itself, but what happened to her.

He shifted in his seat, looking down as he nodded before he stood up, moving around the table to sit next to Y/N, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. “It was Rebel Rebel. That was our song.”

Y/N turned her head, her face shocked. “Your song with Mom was Rebel Rebel? Dad, I did not take you as a David Bowie fan.”

Sam chuckled, moving closer to the edge of the chair and placed Y/N’s head on his shoulder. “He grew on me, only because of your mother. She loved to listen to his stuff. Rebel Rebel may have been our song but I can still remember her screaming the words to Space Oddity like there was no tomorrow.” He moved his head to look down at her, placing a small kiss on her head. “You remind me of her. Everyday I can see her in everything that you do and I know how proud she’d been if she could see you.”

Y/N smiled sadly. “Have you ever tried to see her again? Maybe if you listened to the song again you’d see her..”

“It doesn’t work like that, Bug.” Sam chuckled sadly. “Your mother has been gone for a while. I don’t think it’s possible to see her again until I get to her myself.”

Y/N could sense that the conversation was getting to him, so she stopped. She would have much gathered leaned in and enjoyed the moment, which is what she did.

“Woah, didn’t realize we were interrupting a moment.”

Sam and Y/N looked over to the archway of the library where Dean walked in, followed by Cas and Jack.

“Where the hell have you been, Dean?” Sam shook his head. “I called you like an hour ago to help with research.”

Dean scoffed, taking Sam’s old seat. “Yeah, well, I had to pick these two up from the Gas Station.” He pointed at Cas and Jack with his thumb. “And what’s this about research? You two obviously aren’t doing any - OW!”

Cas whacked Dean across the back of his head. “Don’t be rude, Dean.”

Dean didn’t argue, he couldn’t argue with Cas, so he just grumbled.

Y/N giggled as she watched her Uncles interact - it was honestly so surprising how long it took for the both of them - well mainly Dean - to come to terms with their connection.

“Hey, Dee?”

Dean looked at Y/N with a hum.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what’s your song?”

Dean sat up, leaning back in his chair while Cas took a seat next to him. Cas had a smile on his face while Dean gave off a rare cross between a smirk and a smile. “Well, that’s easy. It’s --”

“You Shook Me All Night Long.” Both Dean and Cas said at the same time, which made the both of them smile at each other.

Y/N nodded her head, almost as if in agreement. “How did I know?” She giggled.

Jack smiled too - he hadn’t found his song yet, but he was waiting, knowing he’d find it one day. He looked over at his ‘sister’ with a curious face. “Why do you ask, Y/N? You’ve never been interested in Soulmate songs before.”

Y/N felt all eyes on her. She thought for a moment, before she answered. “Well.... I kind of want to find my song.....”

Dean looked at his niece with that bothersome uncle look. “I thought you had no interest in finding them.”

Y/n looked down at her hands, rubbing them together. “But I did. At least, I’m 99% sure I found him.”

Everyone’s faces erupting with smiles and cheers - Sam gripped her tight in a side hug. “That’s amazing, Y/N!”

“What’s the kid’s name?”

“Where’s he from?”

“What’s your song?”

Y/N put her hands up to stop them.”Woah! Woah! I never said I found my song. I just said I think I found him.”

Cue the confusion. “But,” Jack tilted his head. “if you haven’t found your song, then how do you know?”

Y/N took a breath before she stood up, walking towards a pillar of the archway and leaned against it. “I just feel it.” She laughed with a smile. “When I was with him, it was like.. nothing else mattered....” She shook her head. “What we went through was a lot for two people to handle, but with Merls, it was like.... it was like we could take on the whole world and no matter what the outcome was, as long as I had him, I won.” She seemed so lost in the memory, so lost that when she came back she went pink with embarrassment and she held her arms. “If that makes any sense....”

Sam, Dean and Cas looked at each other with knowing looks. “Well then,” Dean said. “Looks like we have a song to find. After all,” Y/N looked at her uncle in confusion. “We don’t want to leave him waiting.”

*******************************************************************************

“Ugh, this is hopeless!”

Hours and hours of music and nothing. They tried it all - Bon Jovi, Hozier, My Chemical Romance, Lana Del Rey and countless other bands and still nothing.

The team sat there for hours, playing music from Dean’s collection, random bands they found on YouTube, but nothing was working.

Y/N slumped in her chair, defeated. She ran her hands over her face before she stopped and sat up quickly. “Wait!” She looked at her dad. “Dad, you said you weren’t very fond of Bowie but Rebel Rebel was your song with Mom. How did you find it?”

Sam sat for a moment, his hand over his mouth as he thought, before his eyes went wide. “There was something that connected it to me. I would see the record or hear it faintly on the radio and that’s basically how I found it.” He leaned forward to pull his laptop towards him. “Is there any song that just stands out to you, Y/N? One that you can think of without hesitating? Like you’d see the album and feel a pull?”

Y/N thought for a moment when her eyes went wide. She raised her head slightly and mumbled under her breath.

“What?”

She looked up at her family. “Mountain Sound. It’s a song by Of Monsters and Men. I’ve never really thought about it til now, but there’s something about it.”

Sam quickly typed it into his search engine and pulled it up, handing it and the headphones over to Y/N.

With shaky hands, Y/N put the headphones on and started the song and it was like the world had stopped. Swirls of gold filled the void in the archway capturing her gaze and she smiled. Those golden swirls soon started to form the shape of a man sitting with a book on his lap. That man, Y/N knew him better than anyone did. Tears pooled in her eyes as her smile grew wider. “I knew it.”

Sam, Dean, Cas and Jack all smiled. They did it.

As the swirls finished forming the boy, Y/N moved to the floor, carrying the laptop down with her as she moved closer to his form. The boy seemed to enticed by his book until he looked up and over her way. He looked around hearing the music himself and then he looked at Y/N and a smile broke out on his face, tears in his eyes.

“Y/N?” His voice was eery, but that was normal for this kind of thing.

Forgetting she was in the presence of her family, Y/N laughed, tears streaming down her face. “Hey, Merlin.”

The young Warlock smiled, lunging forward to touch her, and through the power of their song, he hugged her for the first time in over a year. “I never thought I’d see you again, My Love....” He lamented.

Y/N held him close. “Takes a lot more than a glassy portal to keep me away from you, you Cabbage head.”

Merlin pulled back, but made sure to keep a hand on her shoulders. “Where are you? We looked everywhere for you. I thought Arthur was going to take off my head if you weren’t found.”

Y/N looked up at her soulmate and smiled. “How badly did you irritate him this time?”

With a look of pride, Merlin answered. “I going to be honest, I nearly had the Knights turn on him.”

“Pft, hahaha! Merlin! You can’t just lead a coup against Arthur! That’s my job!”

Merlin laughed, he laughed so hard that he leaned forward and turned, resting his head on Y/N’s legs. “Honestly, to be fair, it wasn't his fault. All those Lords had been quite vocal about their disapproval over your rescue mission. I thought Gwaine was gonna tear off someone’s ear.”

Y/N giggled, playing with Merlin’s blackish brown locks which had grown out since the last time she saw him while her other hand ran over his cheek, where a small stubble had grown as well. “I wouldn’t put it past him to do that.”

“No. But I think the others would have let him if Arthur hadn’t been in the room.”

Y/N looked down into his eyes and smiled. “It’s just nice to know I’ll have a huge welcoming when I get back.”

Meanwhile, as Y/N and Merlin continued to ramble and talk away as the song repeated and repeated over and over again, Sam and the rest of Team Free Will decided to leave Y/N alone with her soulmate and as they left through the back door, Sam watched as Y/N smiled the brightest smile he’s ever seen. Silently, he vowed that he’d make sure Y/N got back to wherever she had disappeared to.

#BBC merlin #bbc merlin imagines #soulmate #soulmateau #soulmate au #spn #supernatural #supernatural x reader #bbc merlin x reader #merlin #merlin x reader #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel #castiel winchester #jack kline #jack winchester #destiel

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pendragon-ally · 3 years

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Okay so @fishoutofcamelot gave me permission to write a fic based on this post and I finally got around to doing it. I’m really sorry for the wait, I hope you like it!

Someday...

Arthur is mortally wounded in the battle of Camlann and Merlin's worst fears are realised in more ways than one.

Pain.

Merlin is no stranger to it, has learned since the day he arrived in Camelot just how many ways he can hurt.

Some of the pain has been physical, like the cramps in his stomach when he’s eaten breakfast too quickly in his rush to attend to Arthur on time or the throbbing ache in his temples the morning after the odd occasion he’s spent time in the tavern with the knights and the white hot pain when he’d fallen off his horse once when out on a hunt with Arthur and had sprained his arm so badly he’d thought he’d broken it at first.

But with the right treatment, those pains heal without any evidence that they were ever there.

Emotional pain is different. Like the grief Merlin has felt each and every time he has lost somebody he loves (and all those he barely knew) in his efforts to fulfil his destiny and protect Arthur with everything he has.

Merlin has always succeeded. Until now, he’s never failed to keep Arthur safe.

But in a split second everything changed, the world tilted and began to spin backwards and now—

Well now Merlin knows that grief and love can sometimes go hand in hand to create a pain so blinding he can barely breathe through it because Arthur is dying, has spent two days slowly spilling the crimson of his life through a wound left by Mordred that Merlin can’t heal no matter how hard he tries.

His magic feels like a useless, trembling thing inside him, terrified that it’s about to lose everything. Arthur has grown quieter over the last few days, and Merlin tells himself that it’s because of the wound, the long journey to Avalon— anything but what he secretly fears is the truth.

That now Arthur knows he has magic, that he’s a sorcerer, he’ll never see him the same way again. Whatever the outcome of this journey, Merlin fears he’s lost Arthur anyway.

But still he’ll try. He’ll try because he can’t let Arthur die. He can’t.

They don’t have the horses, they don’t really have anything that can help them at this point, Arthur keeps telling him to stop, that he can’t go any further but Merlin won’t listen.

He can’t let Arthur die.

And yet when Arthur slumps down heavily, abruptly and without much warning, all but dropping on top of Merlin, this time feels different somehow.

Like an end that’s coming, an end they can’t outrun no matter how hard they try, no matter how powerful Merlin might be— because they can’t beat Fate unless Fate wants it to be so.

“All your magic, Merlin, can't save my life.” Arthur’s voice is barely there, more gasping breaths than words and Merlin’s heart recoils in his chest like it already knows what’s coming.

“I can.” Merlin can’t give up— will never give up trying to keep the most precious thing in the world to him safe. “I’m not going to lose you,” There can be no me if there can be no you.

Merlin’s whole body is shaking but he staggers to his feet, holds Arthur tight against him and tries to help him stand but his efforts quickly prove futile. Arthur has no strength left and Merlin finds himself balancing on the edge of his own personal nightmare.

“Just, just leave me.” Arthur says as firmly as he can manage, struggling against Merlin’s embrace.

Merlin feels cold all over, as though every drop of blood in his veins has turned to ice. “No, Arthur why would you say that?” he holds Arthur tighter still, heart in his throat and tears on his face. “I won’t leave you alone to die.”

“I will not die in the arms of a sorcerer,” Arthur rasps, looking up at him with sapphire blue eyes full of so many emotions there isn’t enough time to process them all. Merlin wonders whose heart he can see breaking.

“I’m not just a sorcerer, Arthur, I’m your friend and I don’t want to lose you, not now. Not like this,”

Arthur makes a sound that’s somewhere between a laugh and a scoff. “I’m already lost, Merlin, and after all it was you who said that there can be no place for magic in Camelot.”

“I didn’t mean— Arthur, don’t do this, please, not now.” Merlin begs, presses a hand to the side of Arthur’s face and sobs when Arthur flinches away as though Merlin struck him. “I’m sorry, I love you more than anything and I’m sorry.” Merlin’s whole heart comes spilling out before he can stop it, desperate and terrified and close to tearing itself apart. “Please Arthur— please don’t send me away.”

Arthur struggles again, shaking his head and reaching out to grasp at the grass in an effort to pull away. “Merlin, if you’ve ever cared for me at all just… leave! ”

Much too loyal and much too in love to cause Arthur more pain in what are now so clearly his last moments, Merlin, for once, does exactly as he’s told.

Swallowing hard, Merlin takes a single deep breath, ignores the smell of metal, blood and a life almost lost and inhales the familiar scent of Arthur beneath all of that, warm and still comforting even though the world is ending. He imagines that he can still smell the lavender water that he’s spent the better part of a decade combing into the golden blonde of Arthur’s hair.

Merlin exhales—

Lays Arthur down on the grass gently, squeezes his eyes shut and dares to press a whisper of a kiss to Arthur’s head, so light Arthur won’t even feel it—

And lets him go.

Merlin doesn't open his eyes again until he’s taken several stumbled steps away. Far enough that Arthur won’t be able to see him but close enough that he’ll hear Arthur’s voice should he call for him.

But no words ever come.

All Merlin can hear is the gentle rustle of the trees around them and the ragged inhale exhale of Arthur’s breathing, growing more fragile by the second.

From here Merlin can still see the tears on Arthur’s face, the flutter of his eyelashes and the way morning lights them up like blue flames even as they flicker into embers. Merlin can feel Arthur’s heart splitting, wonders if Arthur can feel his too… wants nothing more than to take Arthur in his arms and hold him one last time because this is it— he’ll never get the chance again. He knows this, but still he chooses to respect the wishes of his king.

Merlin wraps his arms around his own body and holds tightly, instead.

His magic reaches out though, frightened but determined, to wrap itself around Arthur like an invisible blanket to still his shaking hands and settle his fearful heart. Merlin’s magic does what he cannot do himself— it holds Arthur tightly, whispers silently that it loves him and that it’s okay, it’s okay to go, Arthur, do not be frightened.

Moments later Arthur stills, his eyes close and when he breathes out Merlin prays for a rasping inhale that never comes. It’s over.

When Arthur lets go of this world and his soul begins its journey to the next, Merlin feels it like the earth has been torn out from under him and he’s falling into an endless pit of black emptiness, like he is being crushed from all sides and his bones are cracking beneath the pressure, the fractured pieces piercing his organs until there’s no blood left to flow— Merlin feels it like his own soul has been taken too.

Perhaps, at least in part, it has.

“Arthur!” Merlin shouts, hoarse and broken.

Unable to stand there a second longer he rushes back to Arthur’s side, drops down next to him and takes his pale face in both hands. “Arthur!” he chokes on a sob, almost forgetting how to breathe. “No, stay with me Arthur please… come back. I said I’d protect you or die at your side and I’m still here so don’t you dare go somewhere I can’t follow. Arthur! ” He shakes Arthur though he knows there’s no point, presses their foreheads together and waits for the earth to fracture around him, beneath him, all around him.

He probably won’t even notice. The world as he knows it is already ending.

Instinct and anguish has Merlin screaming for Kilgharrah, his voice tearing from his throat and echoing back at him until all he can hear is his own grief.

Only the sound of Kilgharrah’s great wings breaks his cries. “Kilgharrah. I would not have summoned you if there was any other choice. I have one last favour to ask.”

His old friend needs no further explanation, carries both he and Arthur to the lake, sets them down carefully and watches silently as Merlin desperately tries to drag Arthur to the small boat that will take them to salvation.

“Merlin. There is nothing you can do.”

Merlin chokes back a sob, refuses to let Arthur go. “No, there has to be something… please, I’ll do anything just tell me how to bring him back.”

“I am sorry, young warlock,”

“I can’t lose him! I love him!” Merlin shouts, tears streaming endlessly down his face, and Kilgharrah looks at him like he’s known this all along, like Merlin’s secret heart has never been a secret at all. “Our destiny cannot end like this. Arthur can’t die hating me…”

“As I have told you before Merlin, a half cannot truly hate that which makes it whole.” Kilgharrah tells him kindly, gently, but it does nothing to soothe Merlin nor does it slow the black hole of grief and loss expanding inside of him.

Merlin shakes his head, holds Arthur tighter than ever like his embrace somehow has the power to change things. There’s no point of course, Merlin doesn’t have the power to change anything.

He never has, and he feels stupid for ever believing that he could keep Arthur safe until old age. “It makes no difference. Arthur is gone— destiny means nothing anymore…” Merlin trails off, unsure of what he’s even trying to say in the first place.

That he doesn't know what he’s supposed to do now. That he failed to do the one thing he’s dedicated his life to. That maybe, in the end, it wasn’t about destiny, Camelot, or even Albion.

Maybe in the end, it was Arthur himself that Merlin was desperate to see grow and flower for years to come. Now that will never happen.

“Though no man, no matter how great, can know his destiny, some lives have been foretold. Merlin... Arthur is not just a King— he is the Once and Future King.” Kilgharrah tells him. “Take heart, for when Albion's need is greatest, Arthur will rise again. It has been a privilege to have known you, young warlock— the story we have been a part of will live long in the minds of men.”

When Kilgharrah takes flight a moment later, Merlin knows it’ll be the last he ever sees of him.

Merlin is truly alone.

After that, the world blurs. Time has no meaning and Merlin can’t recall the things he’s done mere moments after he’s done them. He doesn’t remember throwing Excalibur into the lake, doesn’t remember going through the motions of laying Arthur to rest in that little wooden boat, tears on his face as he whispers goodbye over and over even though he knows he’ll never truly let go.

Arthur is Merlin’s forever, always has been, always will be— even if that forever must now be faced with half of his soul shrouded in shadow, lost in darkness without Arthur’s light to guide him.

Maybe one day, Merlin will learn to shine on his own.

But for now Merlin stands there on the shores of Avalon, trembling and sobbing, his heart in pieces scattered to the wind as he watches that boat carry Arthur away across the still water until he can barely even make out the shape of it.

What he’s supposed to do now, Merlin does not know. He can't linger here any more than early morning mist can but he knows that he can’t return to Camelot either.

How can he stand there before Gwen, his Queen, before the knights who have always treated him like a friend and Gaius who has been like a father to him, and tell them that he failed?

That Arthur— that their beloved king is dead because of him.

There can be no place for magic in Camelot.

Arthur couldn’t forgive him, in the end, and so Merlin can’t forgive himself. Not now. Not yet, he needs time. He needs to grieve, to stitch closed the wounds torn into him with Arthur’s passing and he can’t do that in Camelot.

And so Merlin does the only thing he can. He takes a deep breath, turns away from the lake and he walks. Where to? He has no idea; all he knows now is that he’s leaving the same way he arrived all those years ago.

Alone.

Perhaps he’ll return in the future. Perhaps Kilgharrah’s words will ring true, Arthur will rise again and will need Merlin by his side once more. Next time, Merlin won’t lose something so precious.

Next time… someday in a far off future not yet written, Merlin will get the chance to right that which was done wrong and do things differently.

Someday, Merlin’s I’m sorry and I love you more than anything won’t be too late.

Someday, his king will come back to him.

Someday, Arthur will understand, will forgive Merlin and maybe, just maybe—

Arthur will love him in return…

… Someday.

Can also be read on AO3!

#merthur #angst #main character death #sad ending #my fic #my writing #this is my first time posting a fic here #i'm sorry if it's terrible #i tried my best

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cupcakezys · 3 years

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Dragons.

First. Previous.

Read on AO3.

Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Summary: “Are you sure you want to do this?” Merlin asked. “The Great Dragon doesn’t really like people.”

Morgana nodded stiffly, and Merlin smothered a sigh. Of course she wouldn’t back down. He was a fool to think she would. This was Morgana, after all. The second Merlin had told her about the great magical dragon beneath the castle, she had insisted that she needed to meet him, no matter how much Merlin tried to convince her it was a terrible idea.

“Fine.” He conceded, then turned to Arthur. “And you? You’ve never wanted to meet him before.”

Arthur shifted, uncomfortable and trying to hide it. “I doubt he would want a visit from his capture’s son, Merlin. I’m only going to make sure you’re both safe.”

Merlin rolled his eyes and Morgana scoffed. “How noble of you.”

Arthur sent Morgana a scalding glare and Merlin quickly decided it would be in their best interest if he interrupted them now, before they truly got going.

“If you’re both sure, then we need to get going now.” He glanced out into the corridor one last time, relieved to find it empty. “Someone is going to come along and wonder what the Crown Prince and his manservant are doing in a lady’s chambers so late at night.”

Morgana snorted and mumbled something Merlin couldn’t hear, but Arthur growled and shoved her, so whatever it was mustn’t have been pleasant. He rolled his eyes again and slipped out of the door, leaving the two nobles to catch up or risk losing him.

Merlin led them through the halls quietly, watching for any guards. He’d memorised a spell that would allow him to see dangers on the path ahead, and he muttered it quietly as they came to another corridor. The spell whispered back that the way was clear, and Merlin gestured to Morgana and Arthur. They followed closely behind him, silent.

It was easy to reach the entrance to the dragon’s prison. Two guards sat at a table, playing dice. Merlin glanced back and motioned for Morgana and Arthur to wait. They paused, Arthur close enough to see the guards. He raised an eyebrow at him. Merlin turned back to the guards and raised his hand.

“Swefe nu.” He whispered.

The guards blinked and swayed in their seats. Merlin pushed them a little with his magic, and they both slumped forward onto the table. They waited for a beat more, and then Morgana pushed Arthur’s shoulder impatiently and they were hurrying down the stairs, Merlin almost tripping as he went.

Morgana glanced at the sleeping guards. “You have to teach me that.”

“Later.” Merlin whispered back, eyes on the stairs leading down to the dragon’s cave. “Are you sure about this? We can still go back.”

Morgana drew herself up, determined. “I’m sure.”

Merlin looked to Arthur. The prince gripped the hilt of his sword, apprehensive, but nodded. Merlin took a deep breath and started down the stairs. A quick spell and a flame jumped to life in his hand, crackling quietly in the dark. Two sets of footsteps followed behind him.

Merlin was apprehensive, to say the least. The Great Dragon was a mysterious creature at the best of times, and Merlin had no idea how he’d react to him bringing others to his cave. On one hand, Merlin imagined anyone visiting would be better than being left alone, like he had been the twenty years before Merlin arrived in Camelot. On the other hand, he couldn’t be certain how he would react to Arthur. Morgana, as a fellow person of magic, would be fine. Arthur, however, was the son of the dragon’s jailer.

No matter how often the dragon told him it was Arthur’s destiny to unite Albion and bring magic back, he couldn’t fully trust him with the prince. His captivity had hurt him greatly, Merlin knew, and for all he hardly showed it, Uther loved his son. The easiest way to destroy him would always be to hurt Arthur. The dragon had to know that.

Merlin readied his magic as they descended, felt it rushing through his body like a storm. It was ready, as was Merlin, to protect his friends. Merlin had called lightning from the sky and summoned a tornado with a flick of his hand. He would not be beaten easily, not even by the Great Dragon.

When they reached the little ledge overlooking the dragon’s prison, Merlin stepped forward to the edge alone. He could feel Arthur’s anxious gaze, Morgana’s excited anticipation. He took a deep breath to steady himself, then looked up towards where he knew the dragon was waiting.

“Hello?” He called, his voice echoing through the cavern.

Silence greeted him.

Silence, and then the scuffle of something disturbing a pile of loose rocks, and the sound of large wings echoed around him. He tensed, magic flaring sharply. He saw a shadow move in the darkness, and then The Great Dragon swooped down and landed roughly on his rock.

The Great Dragon settled, golden eyes sparkling as he stared down at Merlin. “Greetings, young warlock.”

He heard a gasp, poorly hidden behind a hand, and the dragon’s eyes moved to the two behind him. A dragon’s facial expressions were hard to read, but Merlin could still feel him radiating disapproval.

“Why have you brought these two here?” The dragon asked.

Merlin winced. He did not sound happy. He straightened his back and subtly gestured the others forward, keeping his eyes on the dragon. He heard Morgana move first, her slippers quiet on the stone floor. She reached his side an instant before Arthur did, his hand hovering by the hilt of his sword as he stared wide-eyed above them.

Morgana was trembling beside him, and spoke before Merlin could say anything.

“You’re real.” She murmured, then grinned. “Merlin has told us so much about you. How you’ve helped him-“

The dragon growled, cutting her off. “I did not speak to you, Witch.”

Morgana flinched, and Merlin saw Arthur grip his sword tightly, pulling the blade out slightly. His own surprise and anger bubbled within him. Morgana had done him no wrong, and she did not deserve to be spoken to with so much detest and resentment.

“Hey!” He yelled, stepping forward. “She has a name! And she’s my friend.”

The dragon stared down at him. “She cannot be trusted.”

“That’s a lie!” Arthur yelled, glaring up at him.

The dragon turned his head to him, his lip pulled back in a snarl. “Pendragon. You have no idea of that which you speak.”

Arthur glared. “You’re the one that has no idea what you’re speaking of! I trust Morgana more than almost anyone.”

Morgana spoke up, voice hard. “What wrong have I ever done to you, that you wouldn’t trust me?”

The dragon stared at her, disdain in his eyes, even as he addressed Merlin. “It would be better if The Witch never knew the true extent of her powers.”

Morgana and Arthur started to protest, but Merlin spoke above them both. “You’re wrong. I trust her, I know her. She has a good heart.”

The dragon chuckled darkly. “You failed to heed my advice in the past and it brought grave consequences.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Morgana asked.

Merlin said nothing, and Arthur shifted beside him. “Merlin?”

Merlin ignored them. He focused completely on the dragon in front of him.

“I won't abandon her.” He insisted. “You’re wrong!”

The dragon leaned down, getting as close to him as his chains would allow. “I was not wrong about the druid boy, and I am not wrong about this. Your destiny depends on your choices, young warlock. Heed my warnings, and make the right ones.”

With that, The Great Dragon leapt from the rock, his wings carrying him up and out of sight.

“I knew that was a terrible idea.” Merlin said, some time later, after they’d silently made their way back to Arthur’s chambers.

“What did he mean, grave consequences?” Morgana asked, frowning. “And why doesn’t he trust the druid boy?”

Merlin sighed, sinking further into his chair. “There’s- there’s a prophesy.”

Arthur perked up. “Our prophesy?”

Merlin nodded as Morgana’s face scrunched up. “Your prophesy?”

“The prophecy of the Once and Future King.” Merlin said, smiling shyly at Arthur. “Arthur is destined to one day unite the land of Albion.” Then he smirked at Morgana. “So long as he doesn’t get himself killed before then.”

Morgana laughed as Arthur huffed at him. “If I die then wouldn’t you have failed your destiny, oh great warlock?”

Merlin huffed and shoved him. “I think I could be forgiven, considering how often you get yourself into trouble.”

Arthur leaned into him, a smirk on his face, and Merlin couldn’t resist pushing his chair a little so it jerked, making Arthur slip and fall ungracefully into his lap. Merlin chuckled as Arthur blushed and grumbled, righting himself but not moving from his new seat. Merlin wrapped his arms around Arthur and leaned in for a quick kiss.

Morgana made a gagging noise. “You two are disgusting. Just tell me what this prophesy has to do with the dragon hating a child.”

Arthur rolled his eyes but turned to face her. Merlin settled his arms around his waist and sighed.

“Apparently that child is destined to kill Arthur.” Merlin said, quiet and serious. “He’s meant to be Arthur’s doom. The dragon called him a great evil.”

They were silent a moment, then Morgana snorted. “A child? Great evil? He sounds like Uther.”

Merlin jolted at the comparison, ready to defend the dragon. It felt wrong to compare a creature of magic to Uther, but something in Morgana’s eyes stopped him. Then he remembered what the dragon had said about her – telling him to leave her in the dark about her powers, insinuating she was as evil as he thought the druid boy was.

“It doesn’t matter.” Merlin decided. “He’s wrong about you, I know it. We’ll train together and prove it to him.”

Morgana smiled and captured his hand in hers. “Thank you Merlin.” Then she stood and gathered her cloak around her. “I should bid you both goodnight.”

“I really am sorry about the dragon.” Morgana brushed his apology away and swept towards the door. Merlin went to stand, but Arthur refused to move, so he simply sent Morgana a smile and wave goodbye. “Goodnight Morgana.”

“Goodnight Merlin.” Her grin turned wicked as her eyes fell on Arthur. “Arthur. Try not to keep your servant up too late. You know how much your father hates it when you fall asleep during council meetings.”

Merlin squeaked and went bright red, his protesting cry of “Morgana!” muffled into Arthur’s shoulder.

“Get out you harpy!” He heard Arthur half whisper, half yell.

Morgana’s quiet laughter filled the room before she was gone, and Merlin slowly relaxed. He felt right – as if everything was as it should be. Whatever the dragon had seen in Morgana’s future, he was determined to prove that that wasn’t the only person Morgana was destined to become. And from the resolute set of Morgana’s shoulders, Merlin knew she was just as determined.

If you wish to support me, please consider donating to my PayPal. Any donations would be greatly appreciated, and would allow me to write more, more often. :)

#merlin #bbc merlin #merthur #merlin/arthur #werewolf au #werewolf arthur pendragon #arthur knows about merlins magic #we are not monsters #my writing #cakeswriting

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rachel-matteo-merlin-recs · 3 years

Text

Canon Era - Single Fic Arcs

Rheged

Author: McShame

Description:

Post S5 (AU): canon to the end of S4 & part of the way through S5.

Gwen and Arthur have been married for several years, Merlin’s magic has been revealed and Arthur has now reached a kind of cold peace with it. Then a delegation arrives from a kingdom based on magic, and suddenly Destiny is starkly and ruthlessly thrust to the fore. The question is should - can - it be avoided?

Word Count: 124,383

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Definitely might want to pay attention to the tags on this one; one scene can be interpreted both as dubious consent (but more like a I want this, but I can’t do this type of situation), as well as mentions of infidelity and attempted suicide by magic because Merlin just doesn’t want to deal with the fallout and aftermath of his and Arthur’s actions and the consequences it has on their relationships with Gwen and Gwaine. But if you can handle the rough spots, this fic is truly spectacular.

Whispering Your Name

Author: CaffeinatedFlumadiddle

Description:

A different take on the dorocha. Instead of them being faceless screams that attack you, they are actually figures of the dead. Merlin doesn’t quite realize how much death affected him until him and the knights go to close the veil.

Word Count: 22,517

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

One of my absolute favorite fics of all time. It also has a bit of Uther redemption in it and Lancelot lives! It also has one of my favorite interactions in a fanfiction:

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Arthur growled, throwing up his hands. “That thing murdered my people and you allowed it to live--”

“You murdered my people and I allowed you to live,” Merlin said sharply. Gwaine felt his eyes widen. Bold words. Part of him wanted to ‘ooh’ at it but knew it would lead to a very bad outcome.

Dower the Stars

Author: RurouniHime

Description:

During a time of great prosperity in Albion, the Druids offer Emrys a precious gift. Arthur is not amused.

Word Count: 40,654

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

A super fun but also very romantic fic. Druids far and wide come in and kiss Merlin, hoping that their magic will react a certain way with Merlin’s and he’ll bond with one of them. Merlin however decides to throw a wrench in his plan when he chooses to bond with Arthur instead after almost losing him.

Overstepping

Author: Masked_Mayhem

Description:

Merlin knew he was pushing his limits, that he was millimetres away from overstepping the invisible line that Arthur had wordlessly set and the warlock had been careful not to cross, but he was never one to listen to the rules that were set for him. Especially not when he was afraid.

Agravaine had managed to weasel his way into his king’s mind and ingrain doubts in the people he loved, the people that loved him...doubts that only took place and bloomed as the traitor lied and deceived and planted things against them. He had gotten rid of Gwen easily enough, and had almost gotten rid of Gaius. Merlin was afraid. Were a few words and items all it would take for Arthur to turn against him too?

Word Count: 51,915

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin steps over a line and Arthur punishes him for it. Later, when Merlin was right, Arthur regrets his decision and saves him. Romance blooms between the two, but a wrench gets thrown in along the way with the reveal of Merlin’s magic and deeds in Arthur’s name. There is a lot of angst, but I like to feel as if it’s a happy ending for the two.

Springes to Catch Woodcocks

Author: myashke

Description:

When Arthur pushes Merlin away to protect him, what lengths will Merlin go to remain in his life

Word Count: 83,292

Completed: No

Comment(s):

Unfortunately the only negative that this fic has going for it is that it doesn’t seem as if it’ll ever be finished. There are 7 chapters and they were last updated in December of 2011. Still worth the read.

Two Souls

Author: Naelyn

Description:

A few days after Camlann, Merlin and Morgana find themselves imprisoned in the same place, and forced to spend their days together. Basically, this is just a pretext for non-stop Merlin and Morgana interaction once the Emrys reveal has been made.

“I’ve gone soft over the day, you know. A few months ago, I would have killed you where you stood.”

“A few months ago, you did try to kill me where I stood,” Merlin reminded her, and she could hear the smirk in his tone.

Word Count: 11,417

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

One of the only fics on this list that won’t be specifically a Merthur fic; but it still isn’t Mergana either. The idea is that after the revelation at Camlann, one can assume that Arthur lived and that Morgana wasn’t killed; that Merlin had been banished or sent away for the lies he told and somehow was subsequently captured.

What starts out as a hostile interactions between Merlin and Morgana leads to understanding and apologies that lead on a path to healing. The end is left open ended, it’s implied that they are sent to their deaths in another kingdom without hope of being rescued, but you can use your imagination to decide if you wanted them to have a happier ending.

The Patter of Tiny Feet on Cold Stone Floors

Author: TheAvalonian

Description:

When Guinevere finds that she is unable to bear Arthur a child, Merlin offers her the perfect solution: an ancient spell which can create new life out of love, if that love is pure and powerful enough. But after the ritual, it becomes increasingly obvious that while Gwen has indeed become pregnant, the child she carries might not have been created from the love between Arthur and his wife - but rather from the love between Arthur and his Court Sorcerer.

Word Count: 79,131

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin and Arthur have a baby! But it’s not an mpreg fic. Guinevere discovers that Arthur and Merlin are more tied together than she and Arthur are - and while that is difficult for her to come to terms with, she concedes that Arthur has the chance that she never had with Lancelot and doesn’t want to stand in the way. Queue of course evil plotting on behalf of Morgana and a kidnapping of the queen and princess - who happens to have shown gifts of her own - and it’s a rollercoaster of a tale that leaves you wanting more.

Metamorphose

Author: clotpolesonly

Description:

When Merlin falls into bed with Arthur, he doesn’t expect to wake up alone. He doesn’t expect Arthur to give him the cold shoulder either, but there is something else he expects even less which forces him out of the kingdom for over a year.

He returns to find a traitor in the court, an army on the way, and a love he’d thought all but lost waiting for him with open arms.

Word Count: 33,753

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

I don’t usually enjoy mpreg fics because they don’t make sense to me from a biological stand point and usually get explained away as “because reasons”. This fic is an exception, it does a good job of explaining why it is that Merlin might wound up in his situation and it deals with difficult question about how to handle the knowledge and who to share it with.

Flowers in the Wind

Author: the_seaworthy_muffin

Description:

A thousand and five-hundred years ago, Arthur Pendragon is sent to the god Emrys as Camelot’s yearly tribute. He comes to befriend the god, and as the prince continues to spend time on the god’s island, something more seems to blossom between them. But then the Lady Morgana goes missing, and Arthur betrays Emrys to his father in a moment of misguided trust. Emrys’ island burns, the heart-broken god refusing to fight for his life. In dying, he puts a terrible curse upon the prince: to live forever, and never forget.

A millennium and a half has passed. Arthur is being slowly torn apart from the inside-out, memories of the past an ever-growing weight in his chest. When he finally finds Emrys again, he is elated - he’s ready to beg, weep, anything, if only he can find blissful forgetfulness. But while the god’s power has not faded, his memories have, and he lives his life as young artist Merlin Emrys, believing himself to be a simple man with interesting gifts. And Arthur’s hopes are dashed. But there is one last way: Arthur can try, and make Merlin remember again.

Word Count: 67,366

Completed: No - but it is being continuously updated

Comment(s):

This is a truly spectacular work of fiction and I almost didn’t give it a chance. I am so glad that I did. Honestly, this is now one of my favorite authors on AO3.

Peace, Plum, Pear

Author: sweetestdrain

Description:

How in his tenth year of rule King Arthur chose a man to take the role of Court’s Magician, and how Arthur made his decision.

Word Count: 13,700

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Merlin fled the kingdom after Uther found out about his magic, and now it’s been ten years since the old king’s death and Arthur’s ascension to the throne, and yet Merlin is still nowhere to be found.

Arthur gives in and holds trials for the new Court Sorcerer and in walks in an old man named Myrddin Wyllt. But, there’s more than meets the eye to this strange and mysterious magician.

Deluge

Author: Suaine

Description:

In the aftermath of Merlin’s battle against Nimueh, the rain seems a minor complication, perhaps even a cleansing influence. When the rain doesn’t stop, Camelot is pushed to the brink once more. This time, Arthur may be in over his head.

Contains: a lot of wet boys in emotional scenes, Arthur knowing more than he lets on, Merlin being an idiot, both of them being a bit stupidly heroic, telepathic chess, rain (lots of), war, making out against a tree, coincidental druids, co-opted history, co-opted myths, magic, coming of age (metaphorically), and more magically annoying yet surprisingly un-floody water than you can shake a stick at.

Word Count: 50,565

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Beautifully written fic, truly a great addition to the fandom.

Idiosyncratic Romance

Author: F0rcryinoutloud

Description:

“And what about your destiny?” Gaius asked softly. “Merlin, you know Arthur needs you - whether he realizes it or not. You won’t have to hide from him forever.”

Word Count: 13,942

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Beauty in the Ashes of our Lives

Author: Fulgance

Description:

After Merlin is executed for Uther’s murder, Arthur’s world falls apart.

Word Count: 21,599

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

Arthur makes a huge mistake when he executes Merlin following the reveal of his magic.

Tiercel

Author: waldorph

Description:

Arthur is constantly at war.

Word Count: 6,571

Completed: Yes

Comment(s):

This is a wonderful magic reveal fic where Merlin goes out and discovers more about magic while still taking care of Arthur and protecting him; Arthur is constantly at war because Uther has decided he wants to take over and unite Albion.

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gremlinbehaviour · 4 years

Note

Wait can you pls pls pls write a lancelot and merlin nap fic? Romantic or platonic doesn't matter

I have gotten 3 requests for Merlin and Lancelot :D Here ya go!

Being servant to the Crown Prince of Camelot didn’t leave one with much free time, and when combined with protecting the prat from magical danger almost every day and most nights, it was truly exhausting. Gaius did his best to make sure Merlin got some sleep when he stumbled home near dawn, but since he spent most of the time in his chambers, it was Lancelot’s job to look after the young warlock when he fell asleep in places other than his own bed. Which was often.

“Where are we…” Merlin asked groggily, waking up somewhat as the knight scooped him up to cradle against his chest.

“Go back to sleep,” Lance replied as he carried his friend towards his own room. It was closer than Gaius’s chambers and Arthur wouldn’t look for him there if he decided his own need to have a servant to boss around was more important than the man’s need for sleep.

“What…” Merlin muttered, squirming a little in Lancelot’s grip as he bumped the door to his room open with his hip. Evidently, he wasn’t quite ready to relax again, despite the fact that he had quite literally fallen asleep in the middle of the hallway.

“You’re in my room,” the knight reassured him as he tucked him in beneath the blankets. Merlin snuggled down a little deeper into them, despite his earlier protests. Lance couldn’t blame him; they were probably a lot more comfortable than being pressed against his chainmail-covered chest or lying on the stone floor. When Merlin fell asleep in the armory or some other place less public than the main hallway of the castle, Lance usually just left him sleep there so he wouldn’t accidentally wake him up by moving him like he had done today. The knight, usually the model soldier, had been scolded multiple times by Leon for showing up for practice or patrol without his cloak. Lancelot always dipped his head and took the criticism; he would gladly listen to a lecture than leave Merlin napping in the pantry without a blanket. “I’m going on patrol, but I’ll be back later, alright? And Arthur will be there, so I can look after him and you don’t have to worry.”

“Oh. Alright,” Merlin agreed, as a yawn nearly split his face in two. “Goodnight.”

“It’s not even noon yet Merls,” Lancelot teased, but he leaned forward to press a goodnight kiss to his forehead before leaving him to sleep.

#bbc merlin #merlin #lancelot #sir lancelot #lancelot du lac #merlin and lancelot #lancelot and merlin #platonic mercelot #friendship #naps #fanfic #fanfiction #no beta we die like women #feel free to reblog

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hatoyume · 3 years

Text

(I have the honor to be) Your loyal friend

So... I tried to do something for the fourth day of Camelove fest : cupid’s aro. That’s the first fanfinction that I wrote in English so it’s really simple and brief (909 words). I hope there will not be to much errors.

This take place a few day after the 01x04.

- Merlin? Merlin! We must talk!

Astonished, the wizard stopped. Gwen yelled. The sweet, kind, and cheerful Gwen, the Gwen he tried to avoid for the last few days, yelled. And she seemed to be particularly pissed off. And that’s maybe why he stopped: even if didn’t want to talk to her, he didn’t want her to be worried or angry because of him.

So, he turned ever and, for the first time in days, he looked at her. At first sight, she seems like she always was: radiant. An unusual light seemed to glow in her, even in darkest moment, even when she was sad, or worried. Even at this moment, her voice was rude but her hazel eyes were soft and warm. They showed everything, from her love to her eyes, from her fairness to her determination. They showed her pain. And that pain, the young boy knew he was the reason of it. And he didn’t want that. He didn’t want to hurt her in anyway. She was the closest friend he got, here, in Camelot and he didn’t want to lose her.

And that’s why he avoided her these past days. He didn’t want to break her heart but since… he knew he had to do it. He couldn’t lie to her, couldn’t say to her what he didn’t feel. Yet, he didn’t want to cause her pain. And she would be hurt if he talks to her. Therefore, he hushed. But now he couldn’t avoid her anymore.

- Okay, Gwen. You’re right. But not here.

The maid nodded. They were right in the middle of the courtyard and anybody could see or hear them, which wasn’t good because they were supposed to work. She agreed to shut up fixe more minute but one they arrived in an empty room, she exploded:

- Why do you avoid me?

- I didn’t…, Merlin tried weakly to deny.

- Do no lied to me! Since the kiss, you don’t speak to me, don’t laugh with me, don’t even bear to be in the same room than me. And now, young man, you must explain yourself!

Yeah… The kiss… that was the problem. Since this day, he couldn’t see her the same way he did before. Before this kiss, he was pretty sure he fancied her. He thought she was smart, compassionate, pretty, brave, and loyal, and he still thought so. But despite all her qualities, he finally knew he didn’t love her. This little crush evaporated as soon as she put her lips on his. At first, he was glad she has kissed him but immediately after that, he found that he felt nothing more that friendship for her. And tell her that going to be hard to tell her that. But he had to be courageous. He opened his mouth to confess what was in his mind when she began to talk again:

- To be honest, I didn’t really try to talk to you earlier. I was so shocked. I think that I needed time to reflect on what happened before.

- I… the warlock began before she cut him off.

- Please, let me finish, I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to do it again. This Kiss… Maybe it was a mistake. Not that you were bad or anything, even if you were a little sweaty because of the fever but you were totally acceptable…

- Gwen? He said, seeing she began to ramble.

- Yes, sorry. What I meant to say is, maybe we were wrong till the beginning. Maybe we weren’t mean to be more than friend?

- Yeah!

Merlin couldn’t take it anymore. He shouted:

- Yeah, that’s exactly how I feel. We are great friends; we are great at friendshipping. But we shouldn’t try to be more; it feels… unnatural?

From relief, the young men fell on the chair behind him before he said

- I’m such an idiot. I tried to avoid you, making you worried, but you felt the same way and now I’m just…

- You’re not an idiot, you tried to make a point with your feeling, that honourable. Now come on, lets back to work before Arthur or Lady Morgana start to yell.

- You’re right. So... We are just friend now?

- Yep, friend, buddy, partner in crime, like you want to call it. It probably going to be a little awkward for a moment, but we will pass over that.

And with these words, they came apart. Gwen was right: for a couple of day, it was awkward but from this, blow a beautiful friendship, something beyond centuries and death.

Sometimes Merlin think about it, and smile. He’s proud to have been close with one of the most famous queens of the history. A queen who was so much more than what we tell about her. A queen who, initially, was a maid, a queen who was a confidante, a queen who was a partner in crime. Because before she became the queen Guinevere, she was just Gwen. A girl who tended to be clumsy with her words but with the biggest heart he ever sees through the centuries. With her, he could talk all night about boys; she always helped him without ask anything, she trust him with her life and so do he. That was her first friend in Camelot and the last he ever had. She was her friend.

#camelove2021 #day 4: cupid's aro #@camelove #Gwen #Merlin #bbc merlin

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booleman · 3 years

Text

merlin WIP that’s been in my docs for too long and I need to share it

Arthur watched the young knight with pride in his eyes. Since he made Mordred one of his knights, the druid had shown a great improvement in the art of the sword, visible by everyone – Merlin being one of them, even if he still didn’t trust the boy, the Seer’s words being the reason why. Just after the knight was shoved on the ground, the King found the right to add: «You are getting good, Mordred, very good.»

Blushing, the younger person on the training field murmured something in the lines of “my lord”, while the King decided that the best remark had to be a chuckle. «I may have to start trying soon.»

Merlin decided that it was the right moment to save his kin from Arthur’s ego, so he got up from his usual place and, clapping, he asked: «My lord?»

Arthur ignored him, too much invested in trying to make Mordred understand why he lost the friendly duel, so the former manservant just went away, the sassy remark almost urging to come out, deciding that this war was not worthy of care; he just went straight to his chambers.

──────────

«Did you see how Mordred used a contre quarte to my high-line attack? It was a very skilful move, really!» the King started, trying to put his beloved one in a talkative mood. When Merlin didn’t respond, he decided to add: «You do understand what a contre quarte is, right?»

Merlin rolled his eyes, but responded nonetheless: «At a guess, a type of parry, beginning in the quarte position, ending with a twist of the wrist.» At this Arthur smiled, a smile he reserved just to his lover when he was trying to make fun of him. «You have been paying attention, then. What do you think of young Mordred?»

Merlin tried to hide his disappointment at the turn this conversation was having.

«He’s, er, making progress,» he said while sitting on the bed, resting his head on the King’s shoulder in a matter of seconds. The latter smiled, and put a hand on Merlin’s hair, stroking them gently. «He has all the makings of a fine knight, don’t you think?»

The warlock stayed silent for a while, closing his eyes to better feel the vicinity of Arthur, a thing he loved to do since the early days of their courting. In the end, he settled down with a fact, instead of an opinion: «There are many fine knights in Camelot.»

Arthur smiled, calmly, playing with his lover’s hair for the last time before finally getting up to go and participate in the Council’s meeting. «Yes, but if I’m not mistaken, he’ll be one of the finest, and I’m determined he’ll receive nothing but encouragement from me.»

Merlin shrugged, succeeding in stealing a kiss from Arthur’s lips before the two of them had to leave the bedroom. Maybe it wasn’t going to be a bad day after all.

──────────

Arthur was bored to death in the Council chambers, that until Leon spoke up to divulge what the Eastern border’s report said.

«Serious news, I'm afraid, Sire. As you know, a few days ago, our garrison in the Forest of Brechfa intercepted the man who goes by the name of Osgar,» the knight said, watching every one of the men’s faces pale at the sorcerer’s name, even though they weren’t aware of his true power.

He stayed still for a moment, letting the nobles take the information in and digest it, and he started speaking only after what seemed like an eternity: «They were trying to apprehend him when he used his powers to escape. I am sorry to report... Sir Ranulf was mortally wounded.»

Some of the Council’s men gasped, a bunch of them because they knew Sir Ranulf, the others because of the brutality the Camelotian knight was speaking of.

This time it was the King’s burden to break the silence, with just a few words for the guard’s captain: «Place all the men in the Eastern territories on high alert.»

Leon nodded his heart heavy with the loss of a loyal brother in arms such as Ranulf. At the umpteenth Council’s silence, the King spoke up again, his eyes searching Merlin’s ones in the room. «I personally shall lead a patrol to bring this Osgar to justice.»

The warlock bit his lip for a while, afraid to speak up in front of the people who were more likely to judge him, even if he was, by all means, the King’s Consort. «Is it necessary for you to go in person?» he asked just to have the answer he was preparing himself to. «He wasn't just a knight, Merlin, he was a friend. We knew each other as boys, I must go. Have no fear, for I will be perfectly safe. As you said before, I have many fine knights.»

Merlin nodded, not completely sure, just a bit before the Council’s meeting met its end.

──────────

In the King’s chambers, Merlin was trying to pack for the quest, while Arthur was pacing in the room. The only sound was the one made by his boots hitting the floor and, when someone knocked at the door, the two of them almost jumped out of their skins.

When Mordred came in, Merlin relaxed just a bit and decided to sit on the bed, almost to remind the people in the room that it was his, too. The young knight disposed of Merlin’s behaviour as normal Emrys’s jealousy and went on about the reason why he came into the room. «Your Majesty? You wished to see me?»

Arthur finally stopped pacing and, after seeing his Consort on the bed, decided to keep his standing position. «The time has come for you to accompany your King.»

Mordred raised an eyebrow, not completely sure of the extent of Arthur’s request, trying to find his lord’s eyes in the room. No matter what level the hatred between the two was, Mordred often found in Emrys’ facial features the meaning to go on. «My lord?» he said, in the end, unsure if he was speaking to Merlin or Arthur.

Neither of them answered right away, and the knight found himself more unsure than before. Was he being rejected by both of the people whom he swore fidelity to?

Arthur’s answer was the first one to come, while Merlin was still thinking about what was the best thing to say to the druid. While he was proud of him, being a knight and a skilled magician, the prophecy was still something that Merlin couldn’t ignore. «I want you to join me on a patrol to the Black Mountains.»

Mordred’s eyes lightened up, and he didn’t even try to hide the smile that found home on his lips just after. «Me? To Brechfa?» he asked, eyeing Merlin eagerly awaiting for his approval. The latter nodded, though nobody but Mordred saw that, and this just made his smile grow bigger.

I’ll watch every move of yours, said Merlin, his voice clear in the druid’s mind. Even if I can’t trust you yet, you have earned your place. Be ready to ride at dawn.

The knight bowed, to both of his lords, murmuring something in the lines of “I shall be, my lord. You won’t regret this. I promise” while exiting the room, the excitement obvious on his face.

«He has all the makings of an excellent knight,» said Arthur, finally eyeing the bed, a little smile on his lips. He laid down, waiting for Merlin to do the same. When the warlock did that, Arthur wrapped him in a hug, his lips fast on his lover’s temple. «I do believe you’ve grown fond of him,» Merlin said, his body pressed against Arthur’s, his hand on the King’s cheek, yet completely still.

«He’s a good fighter, a brave knight,» Arthur tried to answer, and Merlin just nodded, trying to find something to say as a remark. «He’s young.»

Arthur wanted to say something like “so were you when you came here”, but the words died in his mouth. Thinking about the time Merlin had to live under his father’s reign – under the promise of a public execution as a sorcerer – made him feel bad. Made him think about the fact that almost three years into his reign, he still hadn’t repealed the ban against magic.

«Where would any of us be, Merlin, if no one had given us a chance?» he said, then, feeling his Consort squeezing a little against him, and tucking their blankets in.

«You should sleep,» said Merlin, and Arthur did just that, giving himself to Morpheus without resistance.

──────────

Merlin fidgeted with the ring on his finger, the one Hunith gifted him when Arthur proposed. It was one of her most important possessions since it had been Balinor’s before, but she decided that if her little bird was to marry, he needed to have something to remember him of home.

He smiled at the memory, gripping the reigns of the brown mare he was mounting a little steadier.

Meanwhile, Leon and the other knights were having fun with the new knight – something they always did, to ensure that the bond between the Knights of Camelot was at every time forged in the best of friendships. «You sure you haven't forgotten anything, Mordred?»

Mordred paled at this, mainly because he didn’t want to disappoint Arthur nor Merlin, and asked, agitated: «D’you think so?»

At this, the others tried to hide their smirks and started to list things that the druid most certainly didn’t forget.

«Isn't he missing a dagger?» came the voice of Leon, the noble sure on his horse.

«I can't see a water bottle,» remarked Elyan, the smile badly hidden on his lips.

«His boot. He's missing a boot,» decided Percival in the end, finally making all of the knights laugh, and Mordred repeated to himself that those were Emrys’ friends, and he shouldn’t kill them.

«Gentlemen,» said Arthur in the end, his voice putting an end at the knights’ banter.

«Merlin?» asked Gwen, her new dress – acquired when she became the Kings’ First Advisor – gentle on her body, the gryffin pin that symbolized Lancelot’s knighthood fierce just upon her heart. The warlock turned to her, his expression unsure, as he didn’t want to go. «You will take care of him?»

Merlin smiled the thin layer of red cloth which his cloak was made of shamelessly flattering behind him and the fact that his friends knew of some of his birth gifts making his heart light. «He doesn't always make it easy,» was what he said, even though he nodded, trying not to think about all those times when he almost lost him.

She responded with a smile and a whispered “I know”, which was Merlin’s clue to follow the men and take his rightful place next to the King.

──────────

«It is a tradition,» said Leon, almost immediately finding Elyan to buck him up with: «Goes back years.»

Percival couldn’t resist, so he added, smiling: «We all had to do it on our first patrol.»

At this Arthur turned around and, seeing his youngest knight sat backwards on his horse, couldn’t find a way to repress a laugh. «Mordred, what on earth are you doing?» he asked, his words making Merlin turn too. At the warlock’s attempt at hiding a laugh, Mordred decided that killing the Camelotians knights was the only intelligent thing to do.

«Melding the saddle, my lord,» said the druid, his cheeks red and his voice unsure, feeling a little calmer when Gwaine said: «As in the ancient tradition... of melding.»

Arthur chuckled softly, the words leaving his mouth before he could think of stopping them. «Of course. I trust your breeches are on inside out?»

At this Merlin let the mask he wore just for the Council’s men fall, a brief smile on his lips and, his blue eyes shining in the light. Arthur replied with just a smile, full of love and devotion, things Merlin never thought he’d have seen in an Arthur who was aware of his magic.

Not that Arthur knew everything, like the talk he had with his father’s spirit about his magic, or the fact that he, indeed, had known his father. Those were pieces of information that were futile for the King’s wellbeing, so they were unimportant and mostly overlooked by the warlock himself.

──────────

Gwaine raised a hand in the sky, the “stop” signal easily for everyone to interpret. At the questioning look on his lord’s face, his response was just: «It's Osgar. He's close.»

Percival nodded and after he found a piece of cloth, said: «He’s getting careless.»

While Arthur examined the fabric in his hands, Mordred went just a little forward and, with his sword raised, asked: «Sire?»

Arthur turned in the druid’s direction, all of this while Merlin was carefully controlling the situation, staying just behind them. They saw the sorcerer moving in the wood and, without wasting time, they ran after him, two by two until Gwaine and Elyan found him sitting on a fallen tree and drinking from his waterskin.

The drunken knight approached him silently, taking the sword out of the sheath without a sound, while the blacksmith’s son followed him not long after. In the end, it was Gwaine who broke the silence, making the sorcerer turn. «Who are you? What's your purpose?» he said, his sword fiercely on his dominant hand.

Osgar got up, his face emotionless, and said: «I was beginning to fear you had taken the wrong path,» thing that made Gwaine repeat his question, his voice just a little bit high. «Who are you?»

At the obvious last chance to make the encounter remain peaceful, the sorcerer decided to oblige the knight’s request. «My name is Osgar. And I have an important message for your King. Take me to him.»

Elyan moved a bunch of steps forward, and responded with: «It’ll be our pleasure,» pointing his sword at the sorcerer’s throat. At this, Osgar responded with: «do you not know who I am?»

Gwaine decided to take the floor and said: «you are a sorcerer, a heretic and a murderer,» words that made Osgar shake his head and say: «No. Just a man who values his freedom. Take me to your King,» he made the knights lower their swords, a thing that, of course, the two found wrong, seeing that they raised them again. At this the man lost his patience and, hands raised before him, said: «Would you challenge me?», while the knights’ swords flew from their hands. Gwaine was quicker than him, and so his dagger was stuck in the man’s stomach before he had the mind to pronounce any kind of enchantment.

Osgar bent over, his hand on his side, trying to stop the bleeding. The knights moved forward to see the damage the dagger did and, taking advantage of this, the sorcerer cried: «Forth fleoge!», making the knights fall backwards in the wood.

Osgar then got up again, his face a display of the pain he was feeling, but walking in the rest of the party’s direction nonetheless. He found what he was looking for seconds after, in the silhouettes of Mordred, Merlin and Arthur, turned with their back on him. As a stick broke under his feet, the three of them turned quickly, their red cloaks were long forgotten on the back of their horses.

Arthur shouted a “stop”, while he and his two magical protectors walked forward to the sorcerer, who knelt on the forest floor. «Sire... My name is Osgar,» he said, his head down.

Merlin watched him eagerly, studying every one of his movements as his King was slowly getting closer to him. After a few seconds, Arthur answered, «I know who you are,» while pointing his sword at the man’s throat, just to feel safe.

Osgar changed his expression from a pained one to an almost fierce one, the fact that he was speaking in the Triple Goddess’ blessing helping him find the courage to do so. «I am sent from the sacred Disir to pass judgement on Arthur Pendragon, the Once and Future King.»

Mordred responded, without skipping a beat, the fact that he had once been a druid being the reason why he was the only one who knew what the Disir represented: «What right have you to pass judgement?»

The sorcerer looked at Mordred strangely, as he was asking himself why a being who smelled like magic was loyal to a Pendragon when his sixth sense made him feel the vicinity of his deity’s child, the one the humans had taken pleasure in calling “Emrys”. He nodded, at this, even though it wasn’t meant for anyone. It made sense that magical people were drawn to other magical people, especially if the second type were as powerful as a God’s child.

«No man is above the Disir - however royal,» he then said, making Mordred lower his sword. «I must pass their judgement on to you, dread King. My sacred duty.» As he said this, he put his hand inside his cloak, just to get something. Mordred moved closer to the man, threatening him with his sword, now raised again. The sorcerer got a coin-shaped token out of his pocket, which both the King and the Consort watched as closely as possible, with ruins on it. At his King’s stare, Mordred lowered his sword again.

«Your hand... Arthur Pendragon,» said Osgar, and waited for the King of Camelot to reveal his gloved hand before putting the token on it. As he tried to not fall on the floor, blood loss being the reason, he murmured ”it is done”, words at which Arthur responded with a questioning: «What is the meaning of this?»

Osgar took a moment to think about the answer, sure that only the truth was going to satisfy the King’s need to understand. After a bunch of seconds, he spoke, his blue eyes pointed in Merlin’s cerulean ones: «It is both judgement and fate. You have waged war on the people of the Old Religion. Now the ancient gods answer you. The Disir has spoken. The circle of fate begins to close. For even as Camelot flowers, the seeds of her destruction are being sown.»

The warlock’s response was to raise an eyebrow, for he knew who his mother was, even though they didn’t have a real bond these days, and he knew that her hand was behind all this.

Arthur turned his head to Merlin, who was slightly behind him, as he saw that the sorcerer was speaking to him in particular, and asked: «What nonsense is this?»

Osgard took Arthur’s hand in his and, trying not to be impressed by the amount of power Emrys had unleashed just to frighten him, spoke again: «It is not too late, Arthur. Not too late to find the true path. Redeem yourself. No further chance shall be given,» falling on the ground just after, dead on the spot.

──────────

Merlin was piling stones one upon the other, his gaze lowered and what seemed similar to a prayer leaving his lips. As he heard Mordred approach, his work stopped, and his face suddenly snapped up to the druid’s direction. «What would the King say, Merlin? Sorcerers are not permitted marked graves. Not officially.»

The Consort frowned a bit, then released a quite shaky breath. «What Arthur doesn’t see can’t hurt him. And he’ll come around, eventually, just- give him time. You would have done the same.» At the misplaced druid’s apologies, Merlin shook his head, waiting for the rest of Mordred’s words that came into the form of: «He was one of us, after all. D’you really believe that?»

Merlin nodded, his -too-long- hair falling right in his eye. He thought of the last time he cut them- Arthur was the one that did it, his hands secure on the scissors and his fingertips cold that made him laugh so much. And now they were going to have a conversation with the Disir, and the Disir was going to tell everyone the truth. And there would be no more laughing alone on the big bed of the Kings’ bedroom.

«One day we’ll live in freedom again,» he said, his voice secure and just a tiny flick of power in his words to ease the young druid’s spirit. «Until then,» replied Mordred, his voice unsure but still less scared than before, «we go unmarked in death as in life.»

#word count: 3k+#merlin #merlin bbc #merthur #merthur fic #My WIP #wip #the disir #boolscanon #boolswriting

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fishoutofcamelot · 4 years

Note

Gwen knows everyone’s favorite flower and where to pick them and just when to bring them in to cheer them up... I feel fear now

Having grown up with them, Gwen first knew the favourite flowers of Leon and Elyan. They were boys and didn't think flowers were worth their time, but after a bit of persistence she managed to figure out what they liked: Leon liked chrysanthemums, and Elyan liked violet. So naturally she would go and pick them, then place bouquets in her friends' rooms whenever they were upset. It was something her father did for her mother, before she passed away.

Morgana liked flowers. Seeing them in her vase was calming, she said. She liked rhododendrons the best (although Gwen couldn't bear the sight of them after Morgana's betrayal).

When Merlin came to Camelot, they started picking flowers together. And somehow he managed to pull her out of her shell. Her friendship pool expanded, and she had more people to give flowers to.

Lancelot, butterfly weed. Arthur, amaryllis. Gwaine, hyacinth. Percival, goldenrod. And Gaius liked anything he could put into a medicine.

But Merlin was a bit more vague. He liked all the flowers, he said, and she was much the same way, so they each took turns giving each other big multi-flower, multi-coloured bouquets.

When Lancelot died, they had no body to burn. So they erected a little memorial in the woods, and every year she, Merlin, and Percival would make a pilgrimage to it and leave butterfly weeds there.

When she became queen, she had less time to go picking flowers, but Merlin always did his best to clear our her schedule every few weeks so they could go on a nice picnic into the woods together. It was nice.

Elyan was the next to die. She had been under enchantment during his funeral, and the fact she didn't bury him with a handful of violets is what first tipped off Merlin that something was amiss.

When Arthur died, Gwen started leaving buds of amaryllis around her and her husband's old shared chambers. Merlin almost had to ask her to stop, because the reminders were too painful, but he never had the heart to do so.

Percival started flower-picking with them after Camlann. For reasons they all knew but didn't dare speak of, he only ever brought hyacinths back.

Gaius was the next to go. They gave him an honourable funeral out on the lake, but it was so hard to see Merlin so near the point of breaking. She gave him a handful of sage and rosemary to remember his old guardian by.

Leon and Percival both died in the same war. Gwen was so busy organizing the funerals that she didn't have time to pick any flowers, nor did she have the emotional strength to stomach it. But as their bodies were laid out onto their respective funeral boats, she saw little bushels of chrysanthemuns and goldenrods clasped in their hands. If not for the years she'd spent learning to be a stoic queen, she would have collapsed into tears at the sight.

Years later, it was Gwen's turn to die. Merlin tried not to cry for her sake, as she hated to see him sad, but he couldn't help it.

"I think..." Gwen said weakly, her old age catching up to her. "...i think I have a favourite flower after all..."

His smile was wet and sad as he asked, "what is it?"

"Geranium," she whispered.

And in her final days, her room was aflush with nothing but geraniums. Magically conjured, of course. Her advisors and servants thought it excessive, but no one dared contradict a grieving, all-powerful warlock.

"Tell me," she rasped on the day before her death. "What's...your favourite...flower, Mer...lin?"

His nose scrunched in sober amusement. "I told you, Gwen. I love them all." He kissed her on the forehead, clutching her wrinkled hands between his young ones. He looked as youthful as he did 40 years ago.

"Just...pick one...clot...pole..."

It took him a few moments to decide, and the way his face was twisted you'd almost think it was the hardest choice of his life.

"Zinnia," he said at last. "I like zinnias."

And then Gwen died. And no one was there to comfort Merlin at her grave.

Many years later, he adopted the habit of going to the lake where everyone in the Round Table had been buried, and leaving a few lotus flowers there. As he'd been told, lotus flowers represented regeneration and rebirth. And he would sit there, weeping until the flowers all wilted, waiting in vain for his dreams to come true.

Thanks for the ask!

[Send me your fluffiest headcanons and Ill make them sad!]

#i spent more time than i should have researching flower symbolism #merlin bbc #merlin #bbc merlin #ask #fish post

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x-lilacgalacticfox-x · 4 years

Text

Drunk Gwaine & Flustered Merlin

Merlin was cleaning Arthur's clothes, like usual, bored out of his mind. He couldn't believe that the royal prat had given him work this late in the day, it was nearly dark, for goodness sake!

Finally, the ravenet finished cleaning, and stood up to head off to his chambers. Unfortunately for him, a young boy, a few years younger than the manservant, came running in.

"Are you, Merlin?" he asks, out of breath.

"Uh, yes, that's me," the warlock replies. "Why do you need me?"

"You're needed in the tavern," the boy answers.

Merlin's face falls into one of annoyance, and he complains, "It's Gwaine again, isn't it? I told him to stop using me to be his emergency contact for at the tavern." Merlin then sighs and shakes his head. He turns back to the boy and he says, "C'mon, we should head there before Gwaine does something stupid."

The boy nods and then rushes out of the room, the young warlock not for behind him.

~~~~

When the two arrive, Merlin's attention was quickly diverted to where his drunkard friend was. The man was hitting on a group of people, who clearly were rather annoyed at the presence of the drunk man.

Merlin sighs and walks over to the long haired man. He places a hand on the man's shoulder and he says, "C'mon, Gwaine. These people clearly do not want your company. Let's get you home."

"Merlin!" Gwaine exclaims, spinning around to look at his friend. He grins and wraps an arm around the boy's shoulders.

Merlin sighs and starts to walk towards the exit, holding onto his friend's arm, to make him walk with him. Gwaine frowns at being taken away from the bar, and he whines, "We can't leave yet, Merls! You only just got here!"

"Yes, I came here to get you home, so we gotta go," Merlin replies, rolling his eyes, as he continued to drag Gwaine towards the exit. "And would you please stop using me as an emergency contact?"

Gwaine doesn't get the chance to complain again, as they had already exited the tavern, and were slowly walking down the streets, towards the castle. Gwaine pouts, but lets Merlin take him away, as the other was used to doing this now.

About halfway there, Gwaine had supposedly gotten bored, so he turned his head and stared at Merlin. The boy didn't notice at first, as he was busy trying to get the half limp body of his mate towards the castle doors. When he did notice, he looked at Gwaine with a confused expression.

He sighs and looks forward again, and asks, "Why are you looking at me like that, Gwaine?"

"H've I ev'r told you 'ow pretty you 're?" Gwaine slurs, moving his free hand to trace younger's jawline.

Merlin flushes slightly, before he sighs, "Gwaine, men can't be pretty. And you should stop looking at me like that before someone notices."

"Maybe I w'nt them to no'ice?" Gwaine slurs, smirk dancing on his lips as he leans closer to the short haired man.

Merlin could feel Gwaine's hot breath on his neck, that still smelt like the mead he had been drinking a few moments ago. Merlin shivered at the feeling, a blush creeping up his neck.

Before Merlin could reply, a group of knights approached the two. Unfortunately for them- mostly Merlin, it was their friends. Merlin was glad it was dark, as he wasn't sure how he'd explain the blush he was wearing.

Most of the group looked at the two worriedly, as most didn't even know that Merlin was the one who always got the drunkard out of the tavern almost every night. However, Leon and Percival had knowing looks on their faces, as it was rather obvious to them that it was Merlin who helped out his friend. But, what caught Merlin's eye was Lancelot. He had a worried look on his face, but Merlin could tell, behind his eyes, that he was either jealous or angry. At what, Merlin didn't know.

"Is everything alright, Merlin?" Leon asked, seeing how Merlin was struggling to get Gwaine to his room.

"No, everything's not al'ight," Gwaine complains, before Merlin could even answer, with a pout on his lips. He lays his head on the sorcerer's shoulder and continues, "Merls doesn' thin' he's pretty. I keep tellin' him he is, bu' he keeps sayin' he ain't."

Leon's eyes widened and he looked between the two, obviously in shock, much like Elyan and Mordred. Percival just snickers, not surprised in the slightest, as he had heard Gwaine's drunken confessions about Merlin, more than once before. Lancelot however, seemed to get more frustrated, his hands clenching by his sides.

Merlin clears his throat, trying to ignore the bright red blush on his face, as he says, "A-alright. I think he needs to go to bed. Goodnight."

He starts to quickly walk away, dragging a complaining Gwaine along with him, ignoring the confused and worried Knights behind.

~~~~

Once they finally reach Gwaine's quarters in the castle, Merlin opens his door, and lets go of his arm. He blows out all of the lights, apart from the one at the door, so he could get out, then walks back to the other man.

"C'mon, time to sleep," Merlin says, going to take the man's arm in his hand, to take him to his bed.

Before he could even grip the man's arm, he was spun around and slammed into the wall beside the door.

Merlin's eyes widen as he sees Gwaine smirking at him. Gwaine leans against the younger of the two, moving so his mouth was beside Merlin's ear.

He whispers into the warlock's ear, "You know, I'm not as drunk as you thought, Merlin."

The boy gulps at the closeness of them and the hot air blown over his ear. He was unsure of what to say, but it didn't matter as he knew his voice wouldn't be reliable. A bright blush was dusting his neck and cheeks, and he knew he couldn't hide it anymore.

"I meant what I said earlier," Gwaine says, moving one of the hands that were situated on the boy's waist up to his neck. He plays with the strands of hair on his neck, as he whispers, "I'm surprised you hadn't noticed my advanced earlier, I wasn't exactly being subtle."

Gwaine had moved back to look at Merlin's face when he had said the last sentence, which menat he saw the warlock squirm and flush brighter.

Gwaine smirks and waists no more time, before he smashed their lips together.

Merlin freezes at first, unsure of how to register this whole interaction, unsure of if this really was his 'friend' doing this, or whether it was the drink.

Merlin realised, he simply didn't care. He quickly started kissing the other wrapping his arm's around the brunet's neck.

Gwaine moves his hand into Merlin's hair and gently tugs, earning a surprised moan from him. Gwaine smirks and uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into the magic user's mouth, using it to explore the other's mouth.

Merlin was so in the moment, he didn't even realise his magic was bubbling to the surface, until he heard a loud smash.

The two quickly jumped away from one another and turned towards the sound. There was a smashed pot by Gwaine's bedside.

The two stared at each other for a while. Merlin was getting more and more worried that Gwaine would figure out it was him, with each second they stood their staring.

"Well whatever that was, it was clearly my drunken state," Gwaine says, shrugging. "Best be off to bed before I collapse, eh?"

Gwaine chuckles, patting the man's shoulder, before flopping onto the bed and immediately falling asleep.

Merlin sighs in relief, then quickly exits, before Gwaine could change his mind.

As he was walking back to his and Gaius' chambers, he couldn't help but trace his lips with his fingers, still able to feel the other man's lips on his own.

#Gwaine being a shit #Drunk Gwaine #Mead #Merlin #Merlin Emrys #Magic #Gwaine being Gwaine #Gwaine flirting #MerlinxGwaine #MerGwaine

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emrysarthurpendragon · 4 years

Text

Please !

Merlin sighed as he followed Arthur to yet another hunting trip. Why those nobles feel the need to kill innocent animals, he couldn’t tell but as the king’s manservant he must follow the prat everywhere. Oh and of course, they were alone. Arthur wanted them to be together, with no knights around for once. It’s not like Merlin could even save Uther’s son by using his magic freely. The young king still had no idea of how powerful he was, and, in all honesty, Merlin liked it that way. After all, tricking Arthur was much easier with his blond friend not knowing what was happening to him. As usual, Merlin ended up mumbling and Arthur laughed at his behaviour, calling him a girl and various flattering names.

“You know, Arthur, there is nothing bad at being a girl. I can’t decipher why you think it’s an insult.”

“That’s because you know nothing about them, Merlin. Girls are delicate things. Always in need of help from a brave knight.”

“Oh really? Says the man who got save by both Gwen and Morgana, several times if I may add,” Merlin laughed, earning a death glare from his master.

No. Please, stop.

They were laughing together, giggling after they locked a drunker Gwaine in a cupboard, with nothing except his underwear on. Servants and guards rolled their eyes, smiling at their king’s antics. They all notice how the boy went from pompous to gentle, kind and caring. Thanks to a mere manservant. A boy born in Ealdor and with a noble heart. They rushed together in the large corridors, crashing into the king’s room and laughing on the floor.

“Merlin, you are such a bad influence!” Arthur snorted, rolling on his side so he can face Merlin. The farmer boy was still red, trying his best to find his breath between fits of laughers. “I would have never done that with my father around.”

“Your father, shall he rest in peace, was a killjoy. Plus, Gwaine deserves this. He started undressing in front of the whole tavern.”

“Remind me to never get drunk around you,” Arthur said, before collapsing on the floor for more giggles.

No more … please. I can’t. Not anymore. Make it stop!

“Merlin? Was that … was that magic?” a voice asked from behind. The warlock froze, turning oh so slowly. He met Arthur’s gaze, filled with betrayal. His blue eyes showed all his emotions. It was night, they were in the middle of nowhere and after a nightmare, Merlin woke and went for a walk. He never thought Arthur would follow him. The king had been fast asleep when he left their camp.

“You’re dreaming Arthur, it’s nothing but a dream. Can you imagine me, Merlin, having magic? When I can’t even lie to your face for ordinary things?” it seemed to work. Arthur significantly relaxed and laugh.

“You’re right. I guess my mind is just telling me how magic you are, to me.”

“What … what do you mean?” Merlin stuttered; eyes wide when the blond gently took his hands in his owns. Was it warm, or were his cheeks just suddenly burning? Oh, these stars had been there before, in Arthur’s eyes, or were they a new addition? Meh. This sound too romantic. Such a girl thing to think, if he quoted Arthur.

“I mean, since this is my dream, I am allowed to do this…” he murmured, leaning close until their lips touched. Merlin shivered, shock, but locked his arms around the king’s waist. Their kiss lasted forever but still not long enough. They panted, looking into each other’s souls, with a stupid smile on their lips.

No. No. I don’t want to remember … make it turn into ashes. Please. I can’t breathe…

Lake Avalon. Finally. Merlin felt exhausted after carrying Arthur for so long. His king was dying, but if there were still hope, Merlin would do anything to save his master. His friend. His brother. The one he could never have or dream of. As he carefully placed his charge on the green grass, a hand blocked his movements.

“Merlin, stop, please.”

Merlin looked Arthur through tears. This was all his fault. He messed up because he thought Destiny was nothing, but a legend told by an old dragon. He picked the wrong path, the wrong options and now, the Once and Future King was dying. A gentle, bloodied hand strokes his cheek, chasing a few tears but they were quickly replaced by fresher ones. Growing weaker by the minutes, Arthur still held a certain authority and Merlin waited. Unable to talk.

“It’s not your fault. Do you understand? It’s mine, for killing Mordred’s love. It’s my mistake and … and I knew better because … because the one I love … also has magic…”

No more. I’m begging you…

Merlin had been crying for hours now. Arthur’s body had burned hours ago, floating on Lake Avalon and to the lands of the deceased. But still, his last words ran, echoing in the warlock’s mind.

“The one I love … also has magic…” he had said, coughing blood, his lips turning a deep red. “I love you, Merlin. Your powers can’t change that. I… I was not dreaming … that night. When … when I kissed you. I’ve always known…” his eyes had seemed heavier after that, but he opened them again, saying words he never dares to think before. “Thank you. My wish is … for you to live a long, happy life … and … and shall we meet again… I hope we will live in a time where … where I can claim loving you … in the open. To the entire world…”

The words vanished but the warlock never stopped crying. Not when he finally stood from the ground. Not when he walked for days to the Isle of the Blessed. Not when memories of his friends’ bodies appeared in his mind, reminding him of his failure. He faced the Source, an important statue of a woman, Mother of Magic. Touching the stone, he felt her powers and begged her to help him. To kill him and save him from all these memories. Instead, she started replaying them in his mind. All the good and bad moments. His entire life revolved around that man, Arthur. She finally stopped after Arthur’s dying words and felt her burning gaze in his very soul.

“You are the product of magic, Merlin. As such, you were born with the gift of immortality. Your soul and body are bond to remain alive.”

“A gift, or a curse?” the warlock spat, feeling the Source swift with unease. Apparently, the Powerful Mother never planned for her only child to have a midlife crisis. Or whatever was happening now. “What am I supposed to do? Go one? Watch the world change, get attach to new people and then again watch them die? What’s the point?”

“The point is … one day, I don’t know when, Arthur will come back, and he’ll need your help. The kingdom is safe for now, but dangers may rise again and with them, the once and future king will be rebirth.”

“But if I can’t die … please, I’m begging you … take my memories about Arthur. Take them all. Arthur is my destiny. I’ll find him, no matter what.”

“You won’t be the same, Merlin. You need them all. Magic, memories, pains and happy moments. They make you the unique person you are. I can’t allow this.”

“Get it out!” Merlin screamed, falling on his knees in a pleading posture. His powers, controlled by his raw emotions, started acting on their own accords. They knew, just like the warlock, that a life without Arthur was not worth living. From a corner of his mind, the Source of all magic beg for him to calm down, but he couldn’t. The overwhelming pain took over and his eyes burned gold. His magic found a spell, something long forgotten, not to be used again. The words flew freely. A huge, heavy door slammed shut. Merlin fell limp.

Days later, a brunet man opened his eyes on an island. The Isle of the Blest, if he were correct. All the buildings were on the floor, mere ruins in an isolated place. He felt confused, as he thought there was a statue just here not long before. Of course, there was indeed a stoned face among the debris, but he barely showed any interest to it. What caught his attention, though, was a sword. A sword in a stone. Placing his hand on it, he felt something in his finger. Like a tickle. Something calling for him. Begging him. As soon as the curiosity came, fear overcame everything, and he stepped back. Whatever was held a prisoner under the stone, sealed with the strange sword, had to remain here.

This man’s name was Merlin, he was sure of it. He was not special. He heard legends about magic, about some supernatural powers that suddenly vanished one day. He found these legends fun. As if something like magic could ever excited. Still, one sure was certain: for an unknown reason, he never ages or die. He’d been murdered or accidentally killed several times but, every single time, he wakes again when the witching hour comes. He’s Merlin Emrys, the only immortal in the world.

#whumptober2020 #no.6 #get it out #no more #stop please #merlinbbc #fanfic #bruises tw #major character death tw #memory loss tw #metaphoric suicide tw #sfw

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theres-a-goldensky · 5 years

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32 + 6 Good Omens Fic Recs

There have been so many good stories to come out of the Good Omens fandom that I thought I should finally go about making a rec list and give credit to the ones that have given me the most joy.

As ever, feel free to reblog and check out my other rec lists for the following fandoms:

The Untamed list one and two - various pairings, mostly Wangxian

IT chapter 2 list one and two - Reddie

Various BL Series fic (fandoms: Love By Chance, TharnType, 2Moons series, My Engineer, Until We Meet Again, 2gether, History3: Trapped)

Or just head over to my bookmarks on AO3.

All fics are completed. All fics are Aziraphale/Crowley.

** denotes a favorite

1. you knew my name on sight by brinnanza - “This wasn’t me, you know,” Crowley says, the words out of his mouth before he’s made the conscious choice to utter them. “Not just the library, but the whole civil war. You know me; I’ve mostly been getting drunk at Bacchanals.”

“I know,” says Aziraphale. (general, 8,300 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale knows Crowley, perhaps even better than he knows himself. This is a bittersweet story about two human shaped-beings who love the Earth, even when it hurts.

2. End with Hope by PepperPrints - In 537 A.D., the Black Knight enters King Arthur's Tournament of Champions, with quite disastrous consequences, and Sir Aziraphale of the Round Table takes it upon himself to intervene -- which, naturally, also turns out to be quite disastrous in itself. (explicit, 15,888 words)

Reccer’s note: Such great pining from Crowley here. This is a really meaty story with a satisfying ending and a gorgeous sex scene, but it definitely leaves me wishing for a modern sequel to see what happens next.

3. Fraternizing by kalpurna - Aziraphale has an unexpected house guest. Crowley disapproves. (explicit, 5,720 words)

Reccer’s note: A curious young angel comes down from Heaven to investigate what things are like on Earth. He asks a lot of very...awkward questions about Aziraphale and Crowley’s relationship. It seems to diverge from canon in that Heaven knows about Aziraphale working with Crowley and sort of looks the other way.

4. Some strangeness in the proportion by trailingoff - ‘I assume your punishment involved the destruction of the demon, but I am not aware of the details,’ says the Angel. ‘The description was redacted from your file and labelled “Highly Classified” with a red stamp.’

*Aziraphale is trying to mourn in peace, but the cause of his grief keeps bothering him. (teen, 11,461 words)

Reccer’s note: Heavy angst warning. This one hurt, but in the best way. Angst with a happy ending. Gabriel figures out the best way to hurt Aziraphale: he makes Crowley into another soulless angel. This story contains grieving and suicidal ideation and attempted suicide. Aziraphale does not take Crowley’s passing well.

5. In Style by shinyopals - ‘You can’t get kidnapped by the forces of Hell looking like that!’ insists Crowley. ‘I have certain standards to maintain!’

Letting someone else drive your body is weird enough without them accidentally ruining your look. Luckily Crowley's around to fix things. (general, 2,124 words)

Reccer’s note: I am an absolute sucker for stories about playing with hair or massage or any kind of pleasant, comforting touching, and this is a great one. I liked Crowley’s voice in this, and the whole thing was very sweet and cozy.

6. Birds of a Feather by idiopathicsmile - “Isn’t this nice?” says Aziraphale with badly feigned casualness the next time Crowley stops by for a late night drink.

Crowley is all set to reply, words lined up in his mouth waiting to go, when Aziraphale adds, “I mean, all of the books and furniture and bottles of wine and things?”

Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals. (teen, 3608 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale decides to go all in on courting Crowley, but Crowley is entirely befuddled by what is happening. Some nice mutual pining here, followed by a bit of supernatural, glowy sex.

7. By Definition by idiopathicsmile - Aziraphale has certainly dabbled in the world of carnal delights over the years, most notably in the late nineteenth century, when a certain infernal adversary was enjoying a century-long nap and seemingly the only way to pass the time had been to develop some hobbies. (explicit, 3074 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale is not that into sex, but he’s VERY into Crowley and watching him come apart beneath him. And Crowley is VERY interested in, you know, having that happen. So things work out quite nicely. Even though the physical sensations of sex don’t do much for him, the author does a nice job of showing how Aziraphale still luxuriates in watching Crowley. It’s super hot. Crowley agrees.

8. I am not scared of the elements by sparklespiff - After the loveliest meal of his entire existence, Aziraphale followed Crowley back to the Bentley. He wondered if it would be too forward to try to hold Crowley's free hand, or if he ought to wait for Crowley to reach out. Probably he should wait. Crowley had done the asking, after all, and would better know what he was doing. And anyway, riding in the Bentley was dangerous enough without removing one of Crowley's hands from doing something theoretically necessary for the operation of an automobile.

or: Two occult/ethereal beings with one (1) brain cell between them attempt to end 6000 years of pining. (general, 3609 words)

Reccer’s note: Aziraphale thinks it’s go time after the events of the show, but Crowley believes that Aziraphale has once again put on the brakes. They’re working at cross-purposes, but they both want the same thing. Eventually it all works out.

9. attachment by artenon - 1941. Crowley is hurt more than he lets on from walking on the consecrated ground of the church. Aziraphale takes care of him while grappling with the realization that he's in love with Crowley. (teen, 4455 words)

A bit of mild hurt/comfort. It’s always nice when stories have Aziraphale helping Crowley, because it’s often the other way around. And you can never go wrong with a good h/c.

10. speeding up by tamerofdarkstars - Crowley stopped calculating the minute shifts required to bring his knee into contact with Aziraphale’s and looked instead at the divine being next to him currently licking butter off his fingers.

“Wait. You picked this because you thought I’d like it?” (general, 1725 words)

Reccer’s note: This is one of the shortest fics on the list, but what it lacks in length, it makes up for in utter preciousness. So many pure ‘what if I held his hand??’ thoughts.

11.** Five Times Crowley Fails To Demonically Seduce Anyone, And One Time He Doesn't Need To by shinyopals - 'I need you to tell me how to find a human willing to have sex with me, and then how to persuade them to actually do it in the least unpleasant way possible for everyone involved. If I don’t manage at least one seduction, I’m going to get recalled back Down There.’

Aziraphale stared at Crowley for a moment. ‘I think…’ he said delicately, ‘that we should have that drink.’ (mature, 11,166 words)

Reccer’s note: Oh, the feelings. The feelings. Crowley is forced by Hell to engage in some human seduction, when all he wants to do is be seduced by Aziraphale. The pining. The light angst. The gorgeous ending. Read this story.

12. ** Anywhere You Want to Go by Aria - Aziraphale knew Crowley liked him. He'd known it with a horrible clarity since around 1100, which was at least a thousand years after the first time he'd thought of kissing Crowley, and some eight hundred and odd before it occurred to him that the specific quality of Crowley's regard could be very dangerous for both of them, if they actually admitted their feelings aloud.

It was also two weeks since any of that had mattered at all anymore. (explicit, 9990 words)

Reccer’s note: I wish this story was about 10,000 words longer. The sweet and slow coming together here is lovely. This is a South Downs cottage story, where, after everything, Aziraphale is finally ready to face his feelings for Crowley and Crowley’s feelings for him in return. Crowley’s disbelieving, besotted, overwhelmed reaction is my new favorite thing in this fandom.

13. human childcare for the occult (and ethereal) by suzukiblu - The Dowlings miraculously need a nanny and a gardener at the same time, and Aziraphale suggests they flip for it. Crowley takes one moment to picture Aziraphale nannying anyone and calls dibs. It’s not that Aziraphale’s terrible with humans, he’s just, well. Terrible with humans. Truly, truly terrible.

He doesn’t want to deal with Aziraphale getting metaphorically guillotined or kicking up security’s paranoia, basically. A gardener can be a little odd, and no one will notice or care. Except Warlock, perhaps, as the only other person with any real reason to spend much time out on the lawn, but Warlock’s the one they want noticing so that’ll be fine, Crowley’s sure.

Even if it does make him cringe a little, leaving Aziraphale in charge of the plants. (general, 11,954 words)

Reccer’s note: As with all nanny/gardener stories, you need to mentally erase Aziraphale’s horrifying gardener disguise from your brain in order to enjoy this. But this tale of Crowley and Aziraphale becoming “godfathers” to Warlock and making a cozy little life together at the Dowlings is wonderful.

14. Naps and Other Surprises by out_there - The angel is a surprisingly good kisser. All soft lips and gentle sighs, and the careful graze of fingertips along Crowley's jaw. But there's also the scrape of fingernails at the nape of his neck, the pins and needles shiver it sends down his spine, the slightest catch of teeth on his lower lip. (explicit, 4,312 words)

Reccer’s note: Another slow and cozy fic that starts with Aziraphale slowly and carefully giving Crowley a massage and ends with him slowly and carefully eating Crowley out. Pretty nice day for Crowley tbh.

15 & 16. Ineffable Endearments series by TheLadyZephyr - So far this series includes two stories: Four times Crowley called Aziraphale "sweetheart" without noticing (and One time he did) and Four times Crowley fails to cope with Aziraphale using a pet name (and One time he starts to get used to it)

(not rated, 6,130 words total for the series)

Reccer’s note: Look, if you’re going to do the pet names things, I think you have to really lean into it, and that’s what this author does. It’s sweet how adorably flustered they each get in these stories. So fluffy.

17. An Angel who did not so much Fall In Love as Settle Into It Gradually by TheLadyZephyr - Crowley was standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets, looking a little lost. Aziraphale eyed the distance between them. Five steps. Five steps, and six thousand years, and a battlefield spanning an eternity.

The story of the little moments over the millennia that shape an angel’s regard for a demon, and the way he slowly, with great reluctance but inevitable surety, falls in love. (general, 7,548 words)

Reccer’s note: I wish more stories would span the centuries the way that this one does. There’s so much material ripe for a good love story in it, and this author seems to understand that. Slow burn that I wish was a little slower, but still left me satisfied, especially the kiss at the end, when Aziraphale literally says “fuck it.”

18. get religion quick (cause you're looking divine) by brinnanza - So it was fine. Even if Crowley couldn’t love him, he clearly liked him well enough, and that was almost the same thing.

It no doubt would have continued to be fine, or at least fine-adjacent, were it not for a narrowly averted apocalypse and several bottles of a really quite nice Riesling Aziraphale had found in the back room of his newly restored bookshop. (general, 4,285 words)

Reccer’s note: Why, why, why aren’t there more stories with Aziraphale being sure that Crowley can’t love him? This is wonderful seeing the pining from the other side. And of course Aziraphale is completely wrong and completely silly, but that just makes it better. Stars in my eyes for this one.

19. Wings and How to Hide Them by triedunture - Crowley's been annoyingly in love for six thousand years. What's another lifetime between friends?

Or: Aziraphale definitely fucks and isn't that just perfect? (Mature,10,134 words)

Reccer’s note: Crowley knows that Aziraphale has sex, so he assumes it must just be him he doesn’t want. Aziraphale, meanwhile, assumes that Crowley just isn’t Into That. 6000 years of Crowley pining. I will honestly never get enough of this trope. Not ever. I will die wanting more.

20. the first week of the rest of their lives by Deputychairman - “Port gives the worst hangovers in the world, did you know that?” Crowley slurred when the bottle was all gone. “Don’t know who got credit for that one. Nice drink, lovely drink, shame it makes you want to die in the morning.”

“Such a shame,” Aziraphale agreed sadly, watching Crowley stretch out on his sofa. He did like port. He liked Crowley stretched out on his sofa, too. (mature, 4,618 words)

Reccer’s note: The world doesn’t end, but Aziraphale needs a bit of time to ease himself into the idea of a life with Crowley. Crowley obliges him, as ever. I like the way that the sex feels inevitable here, like they’re just falling naturally into it. I also like that Crowley is the one to ravish Aziraphale first.

21. Not So Blue by pineapplecrushface - Aziraphale presses his suit. Crowley mostly has a lot of questions. (mature, 5,501 words)

Reccer’s note: After the events of the show, things start to change and Crowley doesn’t know if he’s quite ready for it. The way that Crowley comes to recognize Aziraphale’s feelings for what they are was so beautiful.

22. Almost Human Moments by shinyopals - The fact that Crowley's largest contribution to saving the world had been to encourage a scared child was an uncomfortable fact that he was endeavouring to bottle up. He was actually doing quite well at bottling it up because of all the other uncomfortable facts he was currently dealing with that he couldn’t even begin to figure out how to bottle up.

Such as: Hell was going to find him, and make him pay.

After the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, Crowley broods, Aziraphale thinks, and somehow they manage to muddle through. (teen, 6,701 words)

Reccer’s note: The visceral and immediate reaction that Crowley has to the idea of Aziraphale going down to Hell was so lovely. There’s also some very intense hand holding that really pushes my buttons. The world needs more desperate hand holding.

23. ** Ever After by ArabellaFaith - We all know they're in love. But maybe, now that the head offices are off their backs, Crowley and Aziraphale can actually DO something about it.

A rambling descent into love confessions, sexual exploration, and what it means for these two to live happily ever after. (explicit, 16,450 words)

Reccer’s note: So much sex. So much really, really good sex. Desperate sex. First time sex. Sex with feelings Is there anything better in fanfic? I really don’t think so.

24 & 25. ** It’s Not The End of the World, Dear series by jessthereckless - Series includes two stories so far: Lie Back And Think Of Dinner and Still My Heart Has Wings

After averting the apocalypse, Crowley and Aziraphale re-examine their relationship and reach the obvious conclusion: they're retired, they're in love and they're damn well going to enjoy it. Providing, of course, that they can stay out of trouble. (mature, 20,745 words total for the series)

Reccer’s note: WHY ISN’T THERE MORE MAGICAL SEX IN THIS FANDOM? I want literally earth-shattering orgasms, give them to me, people. These stories are so good, because the author packs so much feeling and sensuality into every agonized scene between them. There’s desperation, there’s so much love, and there’s really weird-but-hot sex.

26. Taking the Liberty by CartWrite - After swapping bodies (but before their respective sides come for them), Aziraphale spends the night in Crowley's flat trying to figure out how to talk, walk, and be convincing as Crowley. Trouble is, he's such a convincing Crowley, he starts to convince himself to... well. Things get out of hand. (explicit, 3,463 words)

Reccer’s note: Is it really masturbation if you’re bodyswapped with the guy you’ve spent 6000 years pretending not to be obsessed with? Asking for a friend.

27. a city wall and a trampoline by kafkian - In their cottage in the South Downs, when Crowley eventually succeeds in getting Aziraphale to use a laptop, it takes Aziraphale literal hours to get past the default Windows screensavers of picturesque locations because 'oh, look, isn't it lovely, Crowley!'

5 times Crowley knows he’s in love with Aziraphale + 1 time he knows the reverse. (teen, 4,727 words)

Reccer’s note: Crowley just being so endlessly fond of Aziraphale fills me with so much joy. And it’s here again. It’s technically five times that he knows he’s in love with Aziraphale, but it’s also five times that Crowley tries so hard to make Aziraphale happy.

28. A Home at the Beginning of the World by stereobone - "Oh," Aziraphale says. "I think Crowley might have moved in with me." (explicit, 5,867 words)

Reccer’s note: A visit with Anathema and Newt helps Aziraphale realize some very clear things that he’s been missing.

29. Too Generous by rfsmiley - “You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged; but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever.”

Or: what happened after the [ we all got hit by a ] bus scene (aka "you could stay at my place, if you like")....(teen, 1,501 words)

Reccer’s note: Crowley offers Aziraphale the bed, and Aziraphale suggests that there would be room for two. Contains slinky Crowley, which there should just be more of in the world.

30. His Banner Over Me by pineapplecrushface - Three of Aziraphale's excellent ideas, and how Crowley (very casually) obliges him, as a friend does. (explicit, 5475 words)

Reccer’s note: Handjobs. Just...truly excellent mutual handjobs. \

And finally, because this is my blog and I can, here is a list of my own stories for after you finish all the recs above:

1. The Seduction Malfunction - “Disguise yourself,” Hastur said. “Pretend you’re a priest, or better yet, an altar boy. Their lot can’t resist an altar boy.”

Crowley held in a hysterical bubble of laughter as he imagined Aziraphale’s horrified face at being confronted with Crowley disguised as a lascivious altar boy. He’d feed him soup and give him a good talking to before sending him on his way.

Crowley gets orders to seduce Aziraphale to the dark side. It goes about as well as you might expect. (teen, 5,441 words)

2. Transference - There was always a low level hum of attraction and lust in the air when Crowley was around. In fact, Aziraphale couldn’t recall a single time, after their first meeting on the wall, when he hadn’t watched Crowley dazzle and transfix every poor human that they encountered. He’d even seen Eve give him the eye when he was in his human form, back in the day, and she’d been with child at the time.

Aziraphale couldn’t blame them for falling victim to Crowley’s considerable wiles. He was a demon, after all. Tempting was in the job description. Plus, he’d clearly designed his human form to be utterly irresistible to all humans, from his eye-catching hair down to his stylish clothing. It was overkill, if you asked Aziraphale. But then, he supposed, overkill wasn’t really a thing with demons.

Aziraphale would win a gold medal in Mental Gymnastics. (mature, 4,282 words)

3. Step in the Bright Lights - The angel was holding court on the walking path surrounded by a passel of small children and their bored parents. He wore an absolutely ridiculous magician’s costume, complete with a top hat, cape, black wand, and a painted on mustache above his upper lip that had Crowley recoiling in horror. On a table in front of Aziraphale was a sign that proclaimed: THE AMAZING MISTER FELL AND HIS REMARKABLE FEATS OF PRESTIDIGITATION.

He almost turned right around, but then Aziraphale spotted him and waved enthusiastically, stopping in the middle of a bit involving some handkerchiefs coming out of his sleeve to greet him.

“Oh, look, children! It’s the Amazing Mr. Fell’s very special assistant, Signor Crowley!”

Aziraphale picks up some new hobbies. Crowley has no chill. (teen, 3,311 words)

4. Something To Talk About - He had the sudden and almost overwhelming desire to reach out and take Crowley’s hand. An absurd notion, of course. In 6000 years, Crowley had never shown any inclination towards physical affection for Aziraphale, despite their shared feelings. Aziraphale had long ago accepted that any gentle touch from him would have Crowley stepping hastily away and otherwise ignoring Aziraphale’s attempts. Or at least he had accepted it, until their delicate status quo had been disrupted.

Aziraphale jumps to some very inaccurate conclusions. (explicit, 3,664 words)

5. To Rest My Weary Soul - “Are you saying I feel like this because of my time in Hell? I thought you meant moral consequences.”

“Since when do I give a toss about moral consequences, angel? No, you’ve got a Hell hangover. Must have hit once the adrenaline wore off,” Crowley answered.

“Hell hangover?” Aziraphale repeated incredulously.

Aziraphale's trip down to Hell leaves him worse for wear. (teen, 3,945 words)

Bonus: Podfic by FayJay

6. Taking the Long Way - Crawley nodded down at the sweaty humans undulating in a frightfully uncomfortable-looking position below them. “Mating,” he clarified. “One of God’s better ideas, if you ask me. Looks like it could be fun.”

“Does it?” Aziraphale asked doubtfully. “It’s all a bit sticky for my tastes. I think She had the right of it with plants. Pollination seems much more sensible.”

It takes Aziraphale 6000 years to catch up. (explicit, 6,919 words)

#good omens #good omens fic #fic recs #reclist #ineffable husbands #ineffable husbands fic rec #ineffable husbands fic #aziraphale/crowley

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gusulanbaby · 4 years

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GO Advent Calendar | Day 26

Day 26 | Family & Friends

To say the last night had been short was the understatement of the century.

After Warlock had calmed down, Aziraphale had led him to the guestroom so he could change into his pajamas and join them in the living room afterwards.

Crowley had taken the opportunity and put on a shirt himself. When he came back, his love sat on the couch, still not able to form a coherent sentence.

“I am not dreaming, Angel, am I?” he had asked after a while and Aziraphale had shaken his head.

“This is all real, dearest.”

Warlock returned, slumped down between them and leaned into Crowley’s side. Without further ado, Crowley turned on the TV and they watched one of those silly Christmas movies.

Aziraphale tried to read, but he caught himself more than once watching his beloved and their former antichrist. The boy seemed to be content, not even questioning once why his nanny suddenly was a man, or why Aziraphale looked so different. Warlock fell asleep when the movie was halfway through, and when Aziraphale wanted to rise and carry him to bed, Crowley waved him off and so Aziraphale pulled a blanket over Warlock before he snuggled against Crowley’s other side.

~*~

They fell asleep as that and Crowley woke with a loud groan and a stiff neck. Both, Warlock and his angel, were still sleeping and he enjoyed the quietness and the warm feeling of love that surrounded him. ‘This is what true happiness must feel, huh?’ Crowley mused.

He carded his fingers through Warlock’s dark hair. He would never admit it openly, but he had missed his little hellspawn very much. He also missed the Them and Adam. Yeah, alright, he loved kids …

With a loud sigh, he bent down and woke his angel with a soft kiss. It was a rare occasion that Aziraphale fell asleep too, but when he did he was definitely no morning person. He grumbled slightly before he pushed himself up and blinked drowsily at Crowley.

“Good morning, Angel.” Crowley gave his love another kiss. “We should get started, our guests will arrive soon.”

Aziraphale grumbled again and rose to his feet.

“You should wake Warlock too,” he mumbled as he made his way to the bathroom.

Crowley caressed Warlock’s cheek. “Wake up hellspawn. Your friends will be here shortly.”

Warlock’s eyelids fluttered slightly before he opened them. He gave Crowley a small smile.

“You’re still here, Nanny,” he whispered happily. “It’s not a dream?”

“No, it’s no dream. You are really here.”

Warlock stretched a bit and Crowley patted his tummy. “Let’s get going,” he said happily.

~*~

The others arrived all together. Anathema, Newt, the Them, Adam, Deidre and Arthur Young, and shortly after them newlywed Mr. and Mrs. Shadwell. Crowley’s flat had never been filled with so much life.

The children and he sat in the living room, playing Monopoly, while Aziraphale entertained the adults. It was the best day since their trials, since they had confessed their love to each other.

Warlock wanted to stay with them until his mother came back, and it needed a lot of coaxing from Adam and the Young’s that he went with them. Crowley had to promise him that they would see each other again soon.

~*~

When Aziraphale and he lay in bed later that evening, Crowley curled up next to him.

“Do you think we will stay in contact with Warlock?”

Aziraphale turned his head to his love. “Why should we not? As long as he wants to have us in his life, we will.”

Crowley placed his hand on Aziraphale’s chest. “Thank you, Angel.”

“What for?”

“For loving me. For making me the happiest demon on earth. For making me feel like I do.”

Aziraphale turned on his side and kissed Crowley lovingly. “I love you too, my dear."

And Aziraphale would do, as long as God would let him.

-The End-

~💕~

That's it!

The last day of the 'Good Omens Fanfiction Advent Calendar' 2019

I hope you all had fun reading it. For me, it has been big fun to write & share it with you. Thank you so so much for all your lovely comments & kudos!

I wish you all a good start for 2020 & may it be a good year for all of you! Maybe we see us then as well 💖

Stay save my sweetlings!

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