#i was secretly hoping King Arthur would come back at that moment

[phd-in-bears]

Monarchies are only fun in fiction. But overthrowing a monarchy in real life could be very fun

#uk politics #king charles news #bbc #england #english politics #we should have stolen all our stuff back from the museum when they werent looking #princess diana #kate middleton #camilla #charles #king #queen #down with the monarchy #i was secretly hoping King Arthur would come back at that moment #could you imagine #uk #politics #uk police #scotland

[kimithesweetie]

Arthur Pendragon of Camelot (7Deadly Sins) Head Canons

This is my first attempt at writing headcanons. I've recently been rewatching the anime Seven Deadly Sins and have grown fond of King Arthur. After giving his character some thought this is what I came up with.

Has a strong passion for adventure. Likes to travel and find new discoveries.

Although he is very skilled with the sword and receives praise for it. He sometimes has doubts in his abilities and doesn't think he's all that great because he's yet to awaken his true potential.

Appreciates Merlin for her guidance, training, and staying by his side. Sometimes he wishes she'd let him have some space. He knows that she means well and is only looking out for his well being; but he wants the opportunity to be able to prove himself all on his own.

Looks up to Merlin for her wisdom, strength, feats, battle strategies, and abilities.

Cringes whenever others get the wrong idea about his relationship with Merlin. He has acknowledged her beauty and wit; however he just can't come to view her in a romantic or intimate light. It's simply because she's the only person he's ever had close to a maternal figure.

Has had a few moments where he almost had a slip of the tongue calling Merlin his Mother.

Is unaware of Escanor's jealousy towards him. Has tried to make small talk with him before but failed. When he finally got a break through he found delight in conversation and was given new combat tips.

He actually looks up to the Lion Sin in ways similar to how he looks up to Merlin.

Enjoys hearing Escanor recite his poetry during the evening time when ever the sins gather for drinks and food.

Secretly ships Merlin with Escanor. He has never seen her involved with any one before. However after seeing how fond the Lion Sin is of her, Arthur began to root for the tall, burly man in hopes that he'd win the Boar Sin over. If he wanted to see his mentor happy with anyone it would be Escanor.

Has nightmares about Cath from time to time. He's too proud to tell Merlin and sometimes has trouble going back to sleep when ever he has one.

Will get triggered when seeing a domestic cat walking towards him or within his vision in general. He's aware that their harmless, but the very sight of one reminds him of how Cath resembled an innocent animal and then transformed into a vicious bloodthirsty creature.

#anime and manga #seven deadly sins #four knights of the apocalypse #headcanons ; #hc #arthur pendragon #merlin 7ds #7 deadly sins anime #escanor x merlin #nanatsu no taizai #4kota anime #mokushiroku no yonkishi #Ironside #nnt #arthur nnt #ban nnt

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Something in the woods is stealing peoples’ Souls;

Merlin learns the hard way that he's a little more... fragmented, than normal people when he tries to solve the issue himself.

Part 2 (final part)

All of the Physicians in the town are being overrun.

Bodies keep showing up, still breathing, still perfectly functional, all seemingly unharmed... but they won’t wake up.

None of them will even twitch, as if, whilst the physical bodies were in perfect condition, there was something lacking somewhere, stopping any sort of higher brain function.

The King, his Knights, and even the Court Physician and his (newly titled) Co-Worker (as opposed to Apprentice), were baffled.

Medically, they had nothing to go on, all they could do was keep the bodies alive as best they could, and hope that some sort of solution could come about after some good old fashioned detective work.

Thankfully, it only took five days, and twelve comatose patients, for The King’s best Knights to realise that all of the... victims(?) had been found in a specific area of the woods just outside the city limits.

With such a distinct, and unexplainable issue, it was assumed (rightfully) that magic was involved somehow; whether it be some sort of creature, or yet another evil sorcerer hell-bent on revenge.

Which of course led to Merlin, one of the Court Physicians, and also (Secretly)TheMostPowerfulWarlockEver™, putting on his warmest clothes and sneaking out in the dead of night under the worried gaze of Gaius.

He did not come back.

Not that anyone but Gaius knew.

~

Early the next morning, King Arthur gathered his best Knights, Sirs Leon, Lancelot, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan, to go and hunt down whatever it was that was rendering his people permanently unconscious.

Gaius and Merlin had explained the previous day, when these plans were conceived, that Merlin would have to stay behind; Camelot’s Physicians were so overwhelmed with not only normal patients, but now twelve comatose bodies as well; they needed every pair of hands they could get. For once, Arthur was happy to leave his manservant behind. 

The man cared greatly for his people, and whilst he would love nothing more than to have Merlin at his side all day, every day, he knew that he was safer, and more needed, in the city.

It was meant to just be in case Merlin got injured and had to hide it, but Gaius did well to hide his worry when he waved them off, and didn’t mention that Merlin wasn’t even in the city, that they could be finding Merlin’s comatose body next.

It took the Gang barely half a day to get there, and they had supplies to last them a few days in the woods, if that’s what it came to, but they were all still tense.

They hadn't seen anything like this before. They had no idea what they were up against; there were no physical injuries to assess, no eye-witness accounts, nothing found in their blood or on their person. Just unconscious bodies that showed no sign of waking.

Thankfully, they found no more bodies as they methodically searched the forest, but they also found no sign of what was wrong.

Nothing seemed out of the ordinary: nothing attacked them, there was no blood, no destroyed areas, not even a scrap of evidence that something had even happened.

They finally stopped to make camp at sundown, dejected. Their mood definitely worsening with Elyan’s terrible cooking.

Gwaine was, of course, the most talkative:

“I know he’s needed or whatever, but are we sure we can’t go back and get Merlin? I’ve eaten a lot of gross shit over the years, but I’m not sure if I can take this for four more days.”

Elyan grumbles in embarrassment as the others snort, amused, and he throws a twig at Gwaine. It snaps in two across the knight’s face with a satisfying crack.

Arthur ignores the childish behaviour (something he can’t believe he has to do in the first place), shaking his head as he replies:

“No. The health of the people comes before your stomach. If Gaius says he’s needed in the city, then he stays in the city. Though I was surprised that he wasn’t there to wave us off.”

Gwaine smirks knowingly, and Percival puts a warning hand on his shoulder, but it does nothing to deter the knight as he waggles his eyebrows at The King.

Arthur flushes slightly, but he covers it quickly, not having time to retort before Gwaine opens his mouth again:

“Missing him, are you? Perhaps next time you should request that he stand on the battlements in a dress, and wave a handkerchief at us as we heroically ride out?”

Arthur throws a much larger twig (it’s more of a branch, really) in Gwaine’s direction, and this one knocks him off his seat, but before anyone can even snigger at him, Arthur loudly announces the watches and tells everyone to get some sleep.

~

The next day went much the same. 

That is, until late-afternoon.

The Knights were continuing their methodical search of the woods, once again finding themselves somehow tense and bored, when they came across a clearing that had clearly seen a gruesome battle.

Trees were uprooted, the ground was covered in deep holes and scorches, and there were even the occasional splashes of blood.

Which honestly raised more questions that it answered.

After thorough searching, they were hopeful. It looked like it had been some sort of fight between a sorcerer, and something... not human, some sort of creature. BUT, going by the tracks, the sorcerer had survived, and wandered off.

Was the sorcerer injured, or was the creature injured? If the sorcerer had walked off, injured or otherwise, where was the creature? Surely they should find the body of one or the other?

Another question that no one really wanted to ask: was this even related to the bodies?? Or had the Knights just stumbled onto something completely unrelated that they would inevitably get dragged into dealing with anyway?

Either way, they couldn’t ignore it, and with new-found motivation, they followed the tracks deeper into the woods, instead of setting up camp, like they had intended.

Whoever it was seemed to be wandering aimlessly. The blood trail slowly came to a stop, and it seemed that every step was stronger; as if whoever it were was gaining more energy from walking, as opposed to becoming more tired.

Still, whoever they found at the end of the tracks would be able to provide some sort of answer.

Eventually, after around two hours of diligently following the footsteps through the woods, Arthur signalled everyone to stop.

He wordlessly dismounts his horse, and gestures everyone to quietly do the same, before silently pointing ahead.

The knights look carefully to where he gestures, to see a man stood in the centre of a clearing, facing away from them.

They, still silent, draw their swords and sneak closer, but the man doesn’t move, doesn’t even twitch, and if it weren’t for the fact that he was stood upright, they would think him dead.

Arthur steps into the clearing, about twenty feet from the man, and furrows his brow. That looks like.... no... it can’t be, can it? He shakes the thoughts from his head, convinced that he’s just imagining things, but before he can make his presence known, the man turns around, as if he sensed them stood there.

All of them gasp and take a step back, immediately recognising Merlin.

But he’s... different.

He stands scarily still, unusual for a man who was constantly fidgeting or on the move.

His face is blank, and if he hadn’t been staring straight at them they would think he hadn’t noticed them at all, and whilst he stood as if uninjured, his tunic is ripped and blood-soaked.

But what draws everyone’s attention, was the bright golden glow of his eyes, highlighted especially by the quickly descending darkness of the evening.

Arthur brings his sword up slowly, taking a cautious step forward as he calls Merlin’s name.

Merlin simply tilts his head slightly, otherwise staying still, before stutteringly beginning to speak:

“Mer... lin... Merlin....... Merlin is... Merlin is...... Merlin is gone.”

It’s clear that something is deeply wrong with the manservant, but the way he spoke, as if he knew how but had never actually done it before, like he was still figuring it out, creeped the hell out of everyone.

His words as well, “Merlin is gone” do nothing but fill them with dread.

Lancelot steps forward quickly, moving to stand in front of Arthur, sword unsheathed but pointing at the ground. He was unsurprisingly less fearful of the golden irises, and recovered the quickest:

“What do you mean, “Merlin is gone”, gone where? Who are you?”

Merlin... or... not!Merlin, tilts his head further:

“Merlin is... gone. I... I... I want him... back.”

Lancelot gulps but before he can reply, Arthur breaks out of his stupor, and growls:

“What have you done with him?! Whatever you are, give him back!”

Merlin moves his gaze from Lancelot to Arthur, and takes a step forward, before bowing his head slightly, as if out of respect:

“You are... The Once and Future King... I want him back... you... you... you need him... back.”

The rest of the knights are fully freaked out now, but they hide it well, and gather slowly around Arthur. Lancelot scowls at them, holding a placating hand out. He really doesn’t want any of them to get jumpy and skewer Merlin. He takes another step towards the golden-eyed man:

“We all want Merlin back. The bodies, the same thing happened to you? Happened to Merlin?”

Not!Merlin nods slowly once again, looking back to Lancelot:

“It... took him... from me. I... I... I want him back.”

Lancelot returns his nod, letting out a deep breath:

“And who are you? What are you doing in Merlin’s body?”

Not!Merlin frowns slightly, as if confused, the first actual expression he’s pulled this whole time. It takes him a few moments to respond, and Lancelot is getting desperate; he can feel the knights behind him getting more and more jumpy, especially Arthur:

“I am... I... I have always been here... I am... I am... I am me. I am Merlin’s... and he is... mine... I want him... back. He is... mine.”

Lancelot tenses slightly. He has a feeling he knows what’s going on. Merlin talks about his magic sometimes, talks about it as if it’s... sentient. Described the way it’s always desperate to reach out to Arthur and the Knights and Gaius and Gwen, how it sometimes does things without his permission.

Lancelot gulps. This is bad. Merlin’s magic is walking around in his body without him there to control it. They were going to struggle to explain this away, as much as Merlin claimed Arthur was an idiot, it wasn’t completely true. Lancelot bit his lip, glancing back at the others as he re-sheaths his sword.

He knows there’s no way to get them to relax... unless... this might backfire terribly, but it also might be the only way to get them to calm down a little.

Lancelot frowns thoughtfully, and just before Arthur works up the nerve to say something else, he turns back to Not!Merlin:

“Do you mean us any harm?”

Not!Merlin once again tilts his head and frowns as if in confusion:

“No... Merlin is... Merlin is fond of... you. I.. I was made for... for The Once and Future King. I am... unable to hurt him.”

Lancelot nods, before saying slowly:

“Do you have any reason to lie to us?

The golden-eyed man shakes his head slowly, the glow seeming brighter as he replies:

“Why would I... I... lie? I could kill... you without a... second... second thought. I want Merlin... back.”

The knight nods one final time, looking back to the others to gauge their reactions. Their swords are still unsheathed, but lowered, their faces tense and concerned, but not angry. Lancelot supposes that’s the best he’s going to get at this point.

He lets out a rough sigh, running a hand through his hair as he looks back at the Warlock:

“You’re not Merlin. What do we call you, until we can get him back?”

Not!Merlin lets his gaze wonder to the knights, before finally landing on Arthur. His speech had been getting better with use, but he speaks slowly and keeps his stare on The King, as if curious to his reaction:

“I am... I am... I am part of him. I don’t... have a name. Call me... me... Emrys.”

Lancelot grits his teeth, and his eyes whip to Arthur, to see if he recognises the name.

With The King’s gasp, and widening eyes, Lancelot knows that he does recognise the name.

“You... you’re Emrys?? I thought Emrys was some all-powerful sorcerer, what are you doing in Merlin?”

Arthur is too distracted to notice Lancelot’s panic, but Leon, ever the observant one, is not, and frowns at the sudden fear on his fellow knight’s face.

Mer-... Emrys had already admitted that he wouldn’t lie, if Arthur keeps asking questions, he’ll figure it out. But before Lancelot can think of a solution, Emrys replies:

“Emrys is... is... our other... name. But I am not... Merlin. Not on my own. I want... want him back.”

Arthur looks taken aback, but before he can ask another question, Gwaine steps forward, giving Lancelot an unreadable look before:

“Right, well that’s all fine and dandy, but we need to set camp up and figure out what we’re going to do about... this.”

He gestures vaguely to Merlin’s body after sheathing his sword.

Arthur looks about ready to argue, but with another pointed look from Gwaine, Lancelot jumps into action:

“Gwaine’s right, we need to gather the horses and set up for the night. Here is probably alright, then we can come up with a plan to get Merlin back, and presumably, all of those other people.-”

He turns to Arthur, a sufficiently subservient expression on his face:

“-If you think that’s best, Sire?”

Gwaine rolls his eyes and scoffs at that, heading back to gather the horses from where they’d been left without further prompting. Arthur’s argumentative expression drops after a moment, and with one more mistrustful glance to Emrys, he nods, instructing the others to gather wood and get started on dinner.

Lancelot lets out a breath, but flushes slightly and tenses his jaw when he sees Leon giving him an inscrutable look. He turns away after a moment, under the pretence of helping Gwaine.

The moment Lancelot reaches Gwaine, a few metres into the treeline, the other knight quickly turns around and grabs his shoulders. He glances desperately back towards the clearing, and when he establishes that they’re the only two within earshot, roughly whispers:

“Please tell me you figured it out?? Because I’m not sure how the hell I’m going to keep Arthur from finding out on my own.”

Lancelot’s eyes widen, but his shock keeps him silent for only a few moments before Gwaine shakes his shoulders. He blinks away his surprise, whispering his response:

“You know?? Does Merlin know that you know?”

Gwaine shakes his head, finally letting go of Lance’s shoulders:

“No. I worked it out like twenty seconds ago, I’m sort of hoping that Arthur isn’t as quick as me. How long have you known?”

The other knight nods his head understandingly:

“About as long as I’ve known him, but I’ll explain later. This whole thing is... terrible. I don’t think our odds are good. Mer- Emrys won’t lie, and we won’t be able to stop Arthur from asking questions. He’s probably asking them now. We need to get the horses and get back.”

Gwaine nods roughly, and without another word, the two of them gather the reins of their six horses, and quickly make their way back to the clearing.

They had only been gone a few minutes, and in that time, firewood had been gathered and arranged. Elyan pulls a flint out of his pocket, and Lancelot widens his eyes as he sees Emrys tilt his head (still stood in the same place), moments before waving his hand casually.

The wood bursts into a roaring flame, and Emrys suddenly has four swords on him. Lancelot and Gwaine rush forward, standing in between Emrys and the other knights, holding their hands out as if in surrender. Gwaine speaks first:

“Hey! You might be freaked out by all of this, but that’s still Merlin’s body, and he needs it, so lets not poke holes in him, alright??”

Everyone bar Arthur lowers their swords, but before Gwaine can growl something out, Lancelot turns back to Emrys:

“Look, they’re all a little... unnerved, by magic, so maybe stop using it for now, yeah?”

Emrys tilts his head and furrows his brows again, and everyone stares at him in shock as he replies, not quite knowing what to make of his response:

“But I am magic. I am magic... incarnate. If I stop... I... I cease to exist. And Merlin... Merlin needs me. He needs me like... like... like humans need to breath. I can not just... stop. He would... would... we would die.”

Lancelot tightly shuts his eyes. There is officially NO way to explain this one away. Gods, Merlin is going to be so scared when he finds out.

After a few moments of shocked silence, Arthur finally squeaks out a:

“What??”

Gwaine quickly responds, before Emrys can reveal anymore:

“No. It's cruel to take Merlin’s secrets from him when he isn’t even here. We find Merlin, then you can ask your questions.-”

Arthur looks angry, like he wants to argue, but Gwaine takes a threatening step towards him, resting his hand on his sword at his hip as Lancelot and the other knights look on the scene with panic in their eyes. Gwaine growls out:

“-I said no, Princess. Everyone here knows I’m more loyal to Merlin than you, and that doesn’t stop just because he’s not here and you’re about to throw a temper tantrum.”

Arthur huffs, but lowers his sword as Gwaine glares at him, and Lancelot lets out a breath. The other knights follows The King’s lead, sheathing their swords and settling tensely around the fire.

Lancelot goes back to the horses, tying them down and removing saddlebags, with Leon’s help (and constant stare, which was an odd mix of concern and suspicion).

Gwaine points Emrys to a spot on the floor, and tells him to sit. The knight settles next to him protectively, his sword across his lap as he glares at Arthur on the other side of the fire.

The evening passes awkwardly, food being cooked and eaten in silence, no one quite sure what to say.

Arthur spends the whole time with a pinched look of frustration on his face, but the knights look to him as he takes a deep breath, his expression morphing into an odd mix of concern and accusation in the blink of an eye:

“How do we even know that the... Merlin, part of... part of you is alive? What happened to hi- to you? How do we get him back?”

Lancelot wants to be annoyed at his tone, but he poses valid questions. They still had no idea what actually happened or why or how they fixed it.

Emrys tilts his head, aiming his golden stare at Arthur:

“It is one of... of the Manducan, or The Eating Ones. They... are very rare, they steal... steal souls. Bodies can survive a short while.... a short while without them. Hence your... comatose patients. I am... we are, a little more... fragmented... than most. I contain too... too much power, so The Manducan took... only the human... human part.”

Everyone looks extremely worried at that, but Arthur’s face turns desperate as he rushes out:

“What do you mean, human?? What are you??”

They all stare at the raven-haired man as he speaks, his eyes focused on the King:

“We do not... know. Some call us a Lord, or a King. Others call us... call us... a God. In moments... of power, we... we hear prayers. It can be... disconcerting.”

The camp is silent for a while after that, everyone processing what had been said. Merlin heard people praying to him... not even Lancelot knew that, Merlin had never told him.

After around half a candle-mark, Leon breaks the silence to ask the questions that had been pushed to that back of their minds:

“How do we kill this creature, and what happens if we do? Can we get the souls back, undamaged?”

Emrys turns his golden gaze to the curly-haired knight as he replies:

“It is already... weakened. The Forever King needs to... strike... strike it with Excalibur. They hibernate for.... for centuries... and only return to this plane of existence to... collect food. If you... if you... if you kill it before it leaves, the souls will... will return...naturally.”

The knights all let out breaths of relief, but Arthur looks at his sword oddly, before muttering:

“What’s so special about my sword? And why do you keep calling me strange titles?”

Lancelot gulps, and Emrys tilts his head:

“You know of Emrys, but not of the... the prophecies?”

Arthur nods his head slowly, but Lancelot interrupts before Emrys can start the complicated process of explaining his and Arthur’s destinies:

“Perhaps that’s a... story, for when we have Merlin back in one piece. How do we track the creature?”

Arthur gives him a glare, before lowly saying:

“Do not think I do not notice you avoiding the subject, Sir Lancelot. You know of these prophecies?”

Lancelot grits his teeth, but gives a slow nod:

“Bits and pieces. Merlin isn’t fond of talking about it.-”

He raises a challenging eyebrow, still staring Arthur in the face, and everyone is take aback. Lancelot was never anything but respectful and polite to his King; this defiant look shocked them all:

“-You see, he’s spent his entire life in Camelot absolutely terrified that someone will overhear him, and have him burnt.”

Arthur took in a deep breath, hiding his guilt behind a blank façade, but before anyone can say anything, their gazes are drawn back to Emrys, who looks almost... mournful?

He nods his head slightly, and the sad look on his... on Merlin’s face, looks so out of place for someone so normally upbeat:

“He is... we, are constantly frightened. It is exhausting. I try to... to reassure us but... Merlin is... is... is always so scared, despite our power. We used to... to love flames, fire. Now it is... terrifying to us.”

Lancelot had kept his gaze on Arthur, and when The King looks back at him, his despair badly hidden, the knight simply shrugs one shoulder and nods slightly.

Arthur lets out a breath, and looks to his lap, whispering so quietly that the group barely hears him:

“He’s scared of... of me.”

Gwaine growls out an “Of course he is, you’re a Pen-.”, but he’s interrupted by Emrys:

“No. He would allow you to... to kill us. But we couldn’t bear to... to lose you.-”

He finishes his statement quietly, and Arthur looks up at him, tears in his eyes:

“-We don’t want to be sent away. Camelot is... is... is frightening. But it is also our... home.”

“I would never send you away. When we get Merlin back, you... you tell him that. Tell him he’s safe with me, with us, and always will be.”

Emrys tilts his head yet again:

“And my people? Will we be an... exception? Will you make us watch you... continue to persecute our people, whom we... we... we should be protecting? Merlin does... does not want to make a... hypocrite out of you.”

The knights look at him expectantly, and he blanches slightly as he looks away. The King gulps, before taking a deep breath and looking back, straightening his spine and looking confident:

“The laws will change. Crimes committed with magic will be judged the same as crimes committed without; it’s about time I faced the cruelties of my father.”

The corner of Emrys’ mouth tilts up briefly as he nods, but says nothing. Gwaine smirks, Leon and Lancelot give The King proud smiles, and Percival and Elyan look taken aback, before they relax into fond smiles of their own.

The evening had passed quickly, and with all of them exhausted, it’s decided that any further discussion on how to track this... Manducan, would happen in the morning.

All of the knights fall asleep quickly, finding the protective golden glow of Emrys’ unsleeping eyes both comforting and unsettling.

~

They all woke the next morning oddly refreshed, but the relaxed atmosphere didn’t last long when, one by one, the knights noticed Emrys sat unnervingly still, in the exact same spot as last night.

Only the occasional blink and shallow breathing proved that he was in fact alive, and not some sort of incredibly life-like statue.

Food was eaten, and camp broken quickly; the golden eyed not-quite-a-servant staying in his spot the whole time. 

Despite Emrys saying that the souls would be fine as long as they got there in time, they were still full of nervous energy, and wanted to get this over and done with as soon as possible. Not least of all because they had a lot, and I mean a LOT, of questions for Merlin... or... all of Merlin.

Emrys was pointed to Lancelot’s horse, and once he mounted in front of the knight, everyone looked at him expectantly. He simply tilted his head, and Arthur huffed:

“Well? How do we find this... creature? Can’t you-”

He waves his hand vaguely, and Leon is the only knight able to hide his snort at The King’s impression of magic.

Emrys nods in understanding, and extends his hand in front of him. A thin stream of light, like a glowing string floating in the air, extends from his palm, snaking through the trees.

He nods, this time in the direction of the light, and the knights urge their horses to begin a quick paced journey.

Conversation is sparse, but eventually the question on all of their minds is asked by Percival:

“If you could do that the whole time, track the Manducan I mean, why didn’t you?”

Emrys doesn’t look towards him, but the horses noticeably slow as everyone bunches together, curious about his answer:

“They are of a different... different plane. Magic can harm them but... but... but not kill. I was waiting for The Once and Future King to bring... bring Excalibur.”

Percival nods in understanding, but Leon frowns:

“Well... what about us? Will we not be able to harm it with our swords?”

Everyone copies his frown at that. They’re valid questions, and Arthur is silently grateful that Leon had the tactical mind to think of them:

“No. It will be safer for... for... for you to... wait. I can distract and injure it further until... The Once and Future King can... kill it.”

The knights looks worried at that, but Elyan is the first one to pipe up:

“We’re meant to just stand back and watch? Can’t we set a trap, or help distract it?”

Emrys shakes his head:

“It can not be trapped. Being too close would... would have adverse effects on... on... on your souls.”

Arthur looks back from his position at the head of the group with a frown on his face:

“Well what about my soul? I’m presumably going to have to get close to it in order to stab it?”

Emrys fixes his golden stare on The King, and tilts his head slightly in confusion:

“Your soul was forged through magic, it is marginally... immune. It will take a little... longer for... for... for your soul to react badly.”

Arthur nods, looking back to the front, muttering something about “having a time limit before my soul implodes or whatever. Great.”

Once the knights finish snickering at Arthur, Gwaine asks:

“Wait wait, if Excalibur is the only thing able to kill it, what are you doing out here?”

Emrys tilts his head, looking back to the knights:

“We were... unaware of that at the... the time. We only figured out what... it was, when we fought it.”

Everyone nods, all of them wondering just how many times Merlin had snuck out to take care of something, with none of them knowing about it. The list of questions they had for when Merlin was back in one piece was getting longer and longer, and no part of this conversation was helping the anxiety swirling in Lancelot’s stomach.

After another hour or so of silence, Elyan pipes up:

“I’m surprised no one has asked yet but... what does this thing look like? I know we’re following a trail or whatever, but what are we actually going to find at the end of it?”

“They shift sizes, though they always take... the form of a thick-”

Emrys is interrupted by Arthur pulling his horse to a sudden stop, and pointing through the trees ahead of his, harshly whispering:

“Black shadow??”

Everyone stops behind him and their gazes dart quickly to where Arthur gestures. Through the trees they see a large mass of deep black smoke.

The black tendrils seem to writhe in the air, and the knights can see vague impressions of limbs tipped with impossibly sharp claws darting out occasionally before retreating back into the fog.

The creature looks like evil in semi-corporeal form, and the usually strong-willed warriors take in stuttering breaths at the overwhelming instincts of “Unnatural, run run RUN!” screaming at them with every passing second.

The shadow doesn’t seem to have any front or back; being in a constantly shifting state, sometimes seeming to freeze, sometimes darting through the trees in a blur.

The knights have lost all colour in their faces, and their breath comes shallowly and quickly. Arthur gulps, tightening his grip on his sword as he whispers:

“Horse, or on foot?”

The sound of Emrys’ feet softly thudding on the undergrowth gives The King his answer, and he dismounts his horse slowly, trying to stop the shaking in his hands and legs.

He takes a deep breath as Emrys moves to stand behind him. His voice is shaking and desperate, as if he were a child reaching for help after a nightmare:

“How do I... what do I do, Merlin?”

Emrys tilts his head, but doesn’t say anything of the The King’s mistake:

“You need only get close enough to... deeply slice it. It is fragile in this... this realm. Cover your eyes when you... you do so, the light will be blinding. Do not let it... touch you. I am reluctant to admit that, after what it did to... to... to our soul, I do not know what it will... do to yours.”

Arthur takes another deep breath, and clears his throat slightly as he gives a firm nod. Time to be brave now, for his people, for Merlin.

The King can hear his knights dismount behind him and tie up the horses, ready to jump in and help at a moment’s notice, in spite of... whatever will happen to their souls. None of them are really sure they want to know, so none of them ask for details, and Arthur is unendingly grateful for their silent loyalty and bravery.

Emrys walks forward, past Arthur, and towards the creature. The King gulps before silently slipping off to the side; he doesn’t know how the creature sees (not having a head, or even eyes, as far as he can tell), but Emrys said he would distract it so... splitting up makes the most sense? 

The knights can tell the exact moment the creature notices Emrys walking towards it.

The tendrils of shadow seem to writhe even more frantically, and the fog bulges and retreats again, somehow giving the impression of anger, fear.

Emrys plants his feet strongly and raises a hand, summoning vines and roots from the ground with nought but a gesture; Arthur only gives himself a second to be distracted by the sight of Merlin so effortlessly doing magic before focussing back on the creature.

Everyone bar Emrys winces, and covers their ears as the beast lets out an ear piercing screech, moving judderingly towards the Warlock. The trees shake with the noise, and a few of Emrys’ magical attacks disintegrate into the air. He summons more, and snarls in concentration as the beast whips towards him.

Emrys rushes forward to meet the beast, and they clash in a burst of golden light and black shadow, each trying to take over the other. The shadows try to sneak around the Warlock, reaching towards the knights behind him, but they’re quickly halted in their tracks as cracks open in the ground, swallowing the fog before it can do any damage.

The golden light emanating from Emrys pulses brightly, and the creature is pushed back, the edges of its smoke disintegrating slowly into the air. It lets out another high pitched screech, and Arthur takes that as his cue; rushing silently forward, on the opposite side of the creature to Emrys, and swiping down precisely with Excalibur.

The knights see his attack coming, and step even further back, heeding Emrys’ warning and covering their eyes, Arthur doing so with his free hand as he brings the sword down. 

Excalibur cuts through the shadow with no resistance; the screech getting impossibly louder as the blade leaves a blindingly golden trail in it’s wake.

Emrys simply stands back to watch, but the pitch of the beast’s screech forces the knights to the floor, eyes tightly shut, and hands clamped over their ears.

Suddenly, the noise stops, and the shadows of the creature seem to disintegrate into nothing as the golden light of the wound takes over. The light recedes in on itself, before exploding outwards and fragmenting into pieces. The bulk of the fragments fly in the direction of Camelot, golden blurs through the trees, but one, the smallest and dullest (due to being only part of a soul, they assume) flies with speed straight towards Emrys.

The knights and their King finally look up, feeling oddly exhausted, to see Emrys take a staggered step back and grimace in pain as the light forces it’s way down his throat.

He falls to the floor, and the knights rush towards him as his muscles spasm and he begins to scream. His eyes are shut tightly and Lancelot quickly lunges forward to grab his wrists as his hands go to yank at his hair.

Everyone gathers around him, Lancelot yelling for them to hold him so he doesn’t hurt himself. They can only hope that Merlin is an exception, and this isn’t happening to the other victims back in Camelot. Lancelot keeps a hold of his wrists, and Arthur discards Excalibur in favour of holding down Merlin’s shoulders, whilst Elyan, Leon, and Gwaine hold down his hips and legs, and Percival wordlessly stands guard.

Merlin’s screaming dies down, and he stops thrashing so much (but stays tense), but the knights don’t let go just yet. He opens his bleary eyes, and whispers, so faintly they barely hear it:

“... Lance?”

The knight lets go of Merlin’s now limp wrists gently, and strokes a hand through the man’s raven hair:

“Yeah, I’m here Merlin. All back in once piece?

Merlin closes his eyes again, and goes fully slack as the others let go of him fully, nodding slowly as he gulps before groaning:

“Yeah, that fucking... hurt.”

Lancelot huffs out a gentle laugh, but before he can reply, Merlin gasps and quickly sits up. When his wide, panicked eyes land on the rest of the knights huddled around him, his breath deepens and he scrambles back frantically, only to run into Arthur, who grabs his shoulders.

Merlin whips his head around and rips himself from The King’s grip, stumbling to his feet and rushing back, away from the knights and into a tree.

His ears are deaf to everyone’s gentle reassurances that he was safe, and his eyes are blind to the hands held up in soft surrender. He sinks to the floor as his breathing gets even more frenzied and tears gather in his eyes, but before he can process that he was safe, the mix of memories triggers a blinding pain behind his eyes.

He gives a pained yelp and shuts his eyes tightly, bringing his hands to grip the sides of his head as he curls up on the floor. Merlin begins to groan again, and Lancelot desperately gestures for everyone to stay back as he kneels by Merlin’s side, pulling his hands away from his head again:

“You’re safe Merlin, no one’s going to hurt you, do you remember? We said that to the bit of you that was left.-”

Merlin doesn’t seem to hear him, but squeezes Lancelot’s hands painfully tight as he continues to groan, arching his spine:

“-Ok, ok, what’s wrong Merlin? Your head? We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong. Is it your... your soul?”

Merlin shakes his head slightly, groaning dying down, but still struggling to draw breath, still gripping Lance’s hands:

“Your magic?”

Another shake of the head has Lancelot beginning to panic a little; none of them have dealt with anything like this before, and he doesn’t know what’s wrong with his friend. He continues to try and comfort Merlin as he struggles to think of what else it could be, when Merlin begins forcing himself to take deep breaths, and stuttering out:

“Mem... memories.”

Lancelot takes a fortifying breath, and the others crowd a little closer, panicking for their friend:

“Memories? Ok, which ones? Memories from the bit of you that was wandering around, or memories from the bit of you that was in the creature?”

Thankfully, Merlin’s pain seems to be dying down slightly. His breath comes easier, but his eyes stay tightly shut and his muscles still spasm periodically as he grinds out:

“Both. Two sets of memories from... from the same time. Hurts. My. Brain.”

Lancelot huffs out another gentle laugh, rubbing his thumbs softly over the back of Merlin’s hands, and the others relax at the sight of Merlin’s pain lessening. Gwaine kneels down next to Lancelot, and quietly announces himself before beginning to run a gentle hand through Merlin’s hair.

This goes on for a few more minutes; the servant’s pain dwindling and his breathing evening out as his mind sorts the two sets of clashing memories and stitches the two pieces of his soul back together, Lancelot and Gwaine not stopping their soft ministrations for even a moment.

He finally relaxes fully, opening his eyes but not moving from his position on the floor as he gazes tiredly up at Arthur’s worried face, over Lancelot’s shoulder. His words comes out timidly, and Arthur has to stop himself flinching at the hint of fear in his voice:

“Did you mean it? Am I... safe?”

Arthur forces a soft smile on his face, hiding his worry, and gives Merlin a firm nod:

“I promise Merlin, you’re safe. None of us will hurt you.-”

Merlin smiles back at him, before nodding, and closing his eyes, drained from the ordeals of the last few days:

“-though you need to make sure your head is on straight at your earliest convenience, I’ll need your help to write that repeal.”

Arthur says it with a weak, teary grin, and Merlin chuckles slightly, nodding softly once more before drifting into a deep sleep, exhausted.

Lancelot mutters that he’s asleep, and the smile drops from Arthur’s face, his brow furrowing in worry as he crouches between his two knights, putting a hand to Merlin’s forehead:

“Will he be alright?”

Lancelot shrugs, biting his lip, and sporting a similar expression to The King as he replies:

“I’ve no clue. His soul was split in two, his magic was pushed to the limit in that fight, and his body didn’t rest at all or eat much for at least a day; he’s probably just exhausted, but we should get him back to Gaius.”

Elyan, Leon, and Percival move back to gather the horses without prompting, and within minutes the gang is racing back towards the city, Merlin’s unconscious form being held protectively in front of Arthur (his excuse being that Lancelot’s horse had already held the extra weight for half a day, and he’s The King, so he can do what he wants).

~

Thankfully, the creature had been between their camp and the city, so it only takes them around a day to get back. They took few breaks, and ate whilst they rode to save time. Despite not waking up the entire journey, Merlin’s breathing stayed alright, and he occasionally mumbled nonsense to himself, so the knights weren’t panicking too much.

They didn’t stop when night fell, and so finally pulled into the castle courtyard at around midnight. A guard was immediately sent to wake Gaius, and Percival wordlessly took Merlin from Arthur’s horse, only after The King had given him a short nod of approvable.

They got to the Physician’s chambers to see Gaius wide awake and bustling around the room, clearing a cot and gathering various potions and ingredients.

Percival gently set the manservant on the cot, and Gaius firmly demands that they all leave the room to give him space to work, choosing to ignore the fact that he had told them that Merlin was in the city, and that they definitely shouldn’t have come back with his exhausted, unconscious body.

Arthur notes that Gaius doesn’t react at all when Lancelot stays behind, but has to temper his frustration (and jealousy) when the Physician shoots the knight a concerned look when Arthur himself also refuses to leave.

Lancelot sighs, but gives Gaius a reassuring smile:

“It’s fine, Gaius, they all know about Merlin’s magic, he’s safe. We said we’d explain when we got Merlin back in one piece.”

Gaius sends The King a curious look, hiding his concern well before he seems to catch up on what Lancelot said:

“Back in one piece?”

Arthur moves closer as Lancelot nods and begins to speak, content to let the knight explain as long as he got to stand near Merlin:

“He said it was Manducan?-”

Gaius widens his eyes in surprise, but nods, continuing to mix together various herbs as he listens:

“-Apparently, Merlin’s power was too much for it to handle, so it took the non-magical part of his soul. We found Merlin’s body being controlled by his magic. It was... odd. He was still Merlin, you could hear it in the way he spoke, or the words he chose, but it wasn’t... all of him. Just the magic part. He wouldn’t lie to us, and was desperate to get the “Merlin” part of his soul back. Unless we spoke to him he just... sat there, blankly.”

Gaius hums thoughtfully, and he and Lancelot politely pretend not to notice Arthur reaching out to gently grab Merlin’s hand.

Finally, the physician finishes mixing his potion, and gently pours it into Merlin’s mouth, holding his nose shut and massaging his throat so it goes down properly. He sits back on his chair, glancing at Arthur quickly, before looking back to Lancelot:

“The other victims began to wake just under a day ago, so I’m assuming that the creature was... dealt with?-”

At Lancelot’s nod, he continues:

“-Did Merlin wake at all when his soul came together?”

Lancelot nods again, speaking quietly, feeling oddly like he doesn’t want to disturb Arthur softly rubbing his thumb over Merlin’s hand:

“Hmm. Briefly. He screamed for a while, whilst his soul... I don’t know, stitched itself back together? Then he panicked, because he knew his magic had been outed, then he was in pain again. He said having two sets of memories from the same time hurt. Then he was just exhausted, he passed out a few moments after the pain stopped.”

Gaius nods, and Arthur finally looks up, knowing that the explanation was over, and a conversation was about to happen. The Physician speaks:

“Humans are not made for that, it would have been painful for his mind to try to comprehend and organise two separate sets of simultaneous memories.”

Arthur speaks, his voice quiet, but obviously worried:

“Will he be alright? How long until he wakes?”

Gaius looks to him once more, giving The King an assessing gaze. When he spies no anger or deception in Arthur’s face, he relaxes his shoulders slightly, and sighs:

“He will be alright, he just needs rest. Both his body and his soul have been through a great deal, it will take a few days to a week for him to fully recover physically, though I can’t speak for his mental state.”

Arthur looks panicked, and Lancelot worries his lip between his teeth as Arthur asks:

“His mental state??”

Gaius finds himself sighing yet again as he asks:

“How lucid was he, between the bouts of pain?”

Lancelot rushes to answer:

“Very. He understood what I was saying, I think, he asked a question and understood our answer. He just seemed tired.”

Gaius gives the two men an exhausted smile, before softly saying:

“Then I imagine he will be fine. Go and get some rest, I will send for you if anything changes, though it’s unlikely that he’ll wake up at any point in the next two days or so.”

Lancelot nods, and moves towards the door, but Arthur stays put. Gaius raises an eyebrow, but moves forward and puts a comforting hand on his shoulder:

“He will be fine, Sire. And... everything he has done, every lie he has told, has been to keep you safe. He couldn’t bare to lose you.”

Arthur nods absentmindedly, before looking up to the Physician, and whispering:

“I couldn’t bare to lose him either. You... you promise he’ll be alright?”

Gaius nods and smiles, noting with relief the tearful desperation on The King’s face:

“I promise.”

Lancelot smiles fondly from his place stood at the door, but wipes it from his face as Arthur turns towards him. The two men leave out of the room, Gaius’ assessing eyes following them all the way.

The door shuts behind them softly, and Gaius lets out a breath he hadn’t even realised he had been holding, before running a hand gently through Merlin’s hair, and moving to settle in his own cot.

Of all the ways Arthur could find out about Merlin’s magic, out of Merlin’s control, Gaius never saw this coming, and though the pain Merlin felt was regretful, The Physician is grateful, that it went so well.

~

End of Part 1!!

Part two is already almost finished. It’s much shorter than this, and will be out at some point in the next few days!! Sorry this took so long lads, I’ve been really busy atm.

EDIT: I’ve actually just finished writing part 2!! It’s queued to be published at 12:30PM GMT tomorrow (09/05/21)

EDIT 2.0: PART 2 IS UP!!

Also I couldn’t find any mythical creatures that fit what I wanted, so I straight up just made one up ✌️

Head over to This List to let me know what you want me to work on next! :)

#merthur #gwencelot #bbc merlin #merlin #emrys #gaius #merlin emrys #merlin's soul is funky #bamf merlin #arthur #arthur pendragon #protective gwaine #protective lancelot #sir leon #leon #sir gwaine #gwaine #sir lancelot #lancelot #sir elyan #elyan #sir percival #percival #gwen #guinevere #magic reveal #merlin's magic revealed #camelot #knights #the knights of camelot

[arcadianstuff]

School rivals p.t 6

Next chapter is up !! Hope you enjoy

—————————-

To caught up in their own argument, your family didn’t notice you slip away from the living room whilst Toby and Claire were being distracted by the fight unfolding before them.

So quietly, you scampered out of the house, regretting not changing your clothes as you stepped out into the cold morning air. Finally, the sun had begun to rise bathing the world in her glorious golden glow. It made Douxie's eyes gleam as he turned to look up at you with an unexpectedly angry expression, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes gleaming with fury.

Hesitantly, you took a few steps towards him, stopping a metre in front of him. A lone bird swept up to the sky, as the two of you stared at each other on the street. Nobody else was up and about yet, the silence deafening. Desperate to say something or anything you went to speak, only for Douxie to completely lose his shit.

"I can’t believe you. I-I seriously can’t undertand what the fuck you think you were doing ?!" His voice rose in volume, going from a hateful whisper to angry shouts. He struggled to contain his fury any longer. From the moment his eyes had fallen on your returned form, he’d been both overwhelmed with happiness and anger. Part of him wanted to scream at you and the other just wanted to reach out and touch you, to make sure you were real.

"D-douxie.." you began to whisper, reaching out a hand which he only swatted away, the gesture stinging not only physically but mentally. His glare pierced right through to your soul. You’d seen him annoyed before, angry maybe. But never furious. Not like this.

Inside of you, you felt your own patience shortening. Much like a candle being lit a sudden burst of anger came over you.

"You know what ! I saved you and my brother so you could at least be grateful for that ! You selfish piece of shit !" The distance between you closed, as you grabbed the collar of his jacket and practically shoved your face into his. His own hands came up to your shoulders, and the two of you glared at each other with such hatred and emotion it felt like you were on fire.

"Grateful ? Grateful ?" He let out a bitter laugh, the sound causing your blood to boil. How dare he laugh at the fact you sacrificed your life for him ? The absolute prick ! His dark eyes bore into yours as he spat his words out, the venom coating them laid thick.

"You’re so ducking stupid sometimes (Y/n). Always so impulsive and hard headed. Didn’t you think what it would be like for me ? Or for Jim ? Huh ? If you’d died !" His voice tore through the street, the birds in the nearby streets scared into the air at the volume of his shouting. A flock of crows fled to the air, their dark forms contrasting with the soft glow of the pale sky.

"I-I...we would’ve all died. Better it was just me than all three of us ! I’d not regret what I did ! I’m not sorry !" Your faces were centimetres apart as you screamed back, voice cracking as you felt your emotions beginning to drown you.

"It wouldn’t have been better ! I-it W-wouldn’t.." Douxie’s voice was hoarse as he choked out his last words, the screaming having left his throat raw. The tears that had been threatening to burst all night finally started to tumble out of his dark eyes, spilling down his cheeks that were red with anger.

The man finally broke, letting out a soft sob as he collapsed into your arms, the gesture catching you a little by surprise.

"I don’t know what I would’ve done if you hadn’t come back...I can’t.." he mumbled into your hair, which was beginning to dampen as his tears stained the locks. You buried your head into his neck. The hug was somehow so right, it didn’t matter that you hated each other, it didn’t matter that he despised you and you loathed him. The hug felt natural.

You couldn’t quite hear his last words, muffled by your shoulder.

"Douxie what did you say ?" You whispered soothingly, anger vanished at the sight of the first test. A part of you was still furious at his reaction, but a greater part of you was singing at the feeling of being in his arms.

"I-I need you here (Y/n). Don’t ever do that again." He spoke with so much sincerity, and pulled away to look straight into your eyes. You found it quite overwhelming.

Hesitating for a second, you didn’t bother to think twice and leant up, cupping his cheek as you placed a soft kiss to it. The gesture was short lived but had a profound effect on him as his cheeks instantly pinked. It was a little salty from the tears but you were too embarrassed to care.

"I promise I won’t Douxie." Your voice was soft, he’d never heard you speak so gently before. The two of you normally argued, berated each other, joked or insulted the other. This was different, not bad just different. He kinda liked it.

For a moment, you two stood there, basked in the morning sunlight as it trickled through the trees and onto the pavement. He reached out tentatively and took your hand, smiling a little as you squeezed his. He’d been dreading asking this next question, because honestly it was just to good to be true that you’d managed to survive. If he asked how, he was afraid the miracle would be ruined. There’d be some horrifying revelation. Or he was secretly afraid he was getting his hopes up, and they’d be shattered. Because he knew of only one wizard with the power to cheat death.

"I need to ask (Y/n)." The sudden shift in atmosphere has you on edge a little, his words serious and cold. "How did you survive ?"

———————————-

"It was weird. One moment I was experiencing the worst pain of my life and the next I awoke in this place...this other world." Your words had everybody on the edge of their seats, as they listened to you. Jim and you had made the gang breakfast, and they were sitting around the dining table as you spoke. You sat at the head of the table with a plate of untouched pancakes in front of you.

Blinky and Aaargh had come back to join you after visiting troll market to make sure that Bellroc and Skrael were checked on. They wanted to be sure the two were dead. There was also the issue of the resurrected gumm-gumms.

Jim was sat closest to you, his eyes widening at your words. No one dared to interrupt, curious and saddened.

"It was quite pretty, everything seemed to glow a little. It was like heaven. Maybe it actually was," you chuckled a little at your words, though a bit bitterly, "This man was there. At the time I didn’t realise it, but I’m pretty sure it was Merlin."

The whole room gasped at that, displeased expression crossing your family’s faces. Toby's usually happy expression faltered masked with the same anger that had twisted Claire’s pretty face. Even the two trolls looked agitated, Aargh in particular. It was only Douxie and Archie who appeared shocked, even a little hopeful.

"Actually he..he had a message for you Douxie." You looked at the boy to your right, who nearly spat his orange juice back into the cup at your words. You would’ve laughed if not for the severity of the situation.

"He wanted me to tell you that he’s proud of you, that he wishes he had more time to watch you grow into the man you are today." As you delivered the wizards message, a crestfallen expression had Douxie fighting back tears, the only reason why he wasn’t crying was because he was surrounded by people. Claire patted her teachers back sympathetically, knowing how much the man mattered to Douxie.

You hated yourself for the next thing you had to say, wishing you wouldn’t have to ruin the atmosphere like this. It hurt to have to burden your family with more bad news.

"That’s not all...he also gave me a warning. There’s something coming, he didn’t say what, just that it was evil and...he seemed afraid." At your words, a chorus of grumbles and gasp echoed in the room.

"Of course he doesn’t give any damn details." Jim grumbled, shaking his head at the cryptic wizard he disabled throughly.

"He did give me one piece of advice. Actually this is what I need to know about. Mum did dad have English heritage ?" Your question had the ginger woman pursing her lips as she thought hard for a second.

"I think so on his mother’s side, why dear ?" You sighed at her confirmation.

"Well apparently, we’re descended from Arthur Pendragon, who’s apparently a real fucking person but I shouldn’t be surprised.” Whereas you were just incredulous at this point the others erupted with a mix excitement and disbelief.

"Dude that’s so cool ! Jimbo you’re royalty !" Toby clapped his friend on the back, his best friend not quite as excited to be related to such an awful king. The man had tried to kill him once for gods sake.

"B-but I couldn’t remove Excalibur ? How can we be related to him ?" Jim didn’t undertand how the sword in the stone wouldn’t budge for him if he was directly related to Arthur. It made no sense, unless...

"No way..."he breathed out watching as a grim smile graced your lips.

"Yep. He’s given me instruction to retrieve the blade. He says we’ll need it to win the war that’s coming.." you sunk back into your chair, looking sadly at the untouched pancakes that were soggy from the syrup.

Only a week ago you’d been a normal girl, ready to move away from cramped home town and explore the world. You had big dreams and hopes, a desire to see everything and experience all the world had to offer. Soccer captain, A* student, part time waitress turned magical being with a great great great great like a hundred more great grandfather who was a king. Fucking spectacular. How had your brother lived these two lives simultaneously and so well ? You had to applaud him for that.

"Well it’s clear, Miss (Y/n), though Merlin can be a tricky character sometimes, he’s clearly warning us and if he believes you should wield the sword then you should." Blinky spoke up, a contemplative expression on his face. There were dark times ahead of them and it had the old troll worried. He only hoped they could prepare themselves in time.

"No !" Out of nowhere Douxie’s voice burst forth, rattling the table as he stood up abruptly from the chair.

Everybody paused to stare at him at his outburst, a mixture of confused and worried expressions in their faces. You in particular looked at him with confusion.

"I mean...it’s not safe. The sword is bad luck. Look at what happens to the last guy who wielded it." Calming down he slumped back down into his seat, hands clenching into fists so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He wanted to trust Merlín, he really did and he knew should but seriously ? You’d only known about this world for like a week had been kidnapped, enslaved and then died. Now you were talking about wielding a sword and leading them into war. So yeah he was a little against it.

“Guys, we all know how well...difficult Merlín can be. You know I’m not the biggest fan of him, but if he’s warning us about a war then we need to prepare for it.” To your surprise Jim was the one who came to your defence. Honestly you’d expected him to react similarly to Douxie, refusing to let you go and fight.

It was nice to see your little brother defend you.

“Jim’s right. We’ve done this before and we’ll do it again. Together we can win.” Claire stood next to him, linking hands with him and sharing a smile.

There was a chorus of cheers from the people around you even your mum smiled at you in support. However Douxie still looked conflicted, the tension vivible in his shoulders.

“Come on Casperan. Don’t lose it on me now.” You tried to joke, squeezing his shoulder sympathetically. The man gazed from your hand on his shoulder to your reassuring eyes and felt his resolve falter.

“Okay, just don’t die on me again love.” He placed a hand over the one on his shoulder and felt himself relax at the warmth of your touch.

“Well then Ms. (Y/n) let’s go get Exaclibur !” Blinky chuckled as he spoke, glad to see everyone in a good mood as he spoke. It had been a difficult couple of days but now there looked like there was light at the end of the tunnel.

“Umm sorry to burst your bubble you guys. But you have school in like an hour. And no I can’t send in another note sorry kiddos.” Barbara’s words shattered the excited atmosphere and a chorus of groans left the younger teenagers.

You however smirked at Douxie, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“You ever been on a motorcycle?”

———————

Tell me if you want a part seven !! Hope you enjoyed

#douxie x reader #trollhunters #douxie #tales of arcadia #toa #hisirdoux casperan x reader #toa hisirdoux #toa wizards

[hopelesslygazingthestars]

In Valentines Day spirit... a lil love... and a lil angst.

Fools And Love.

Since long before Ashara’s flower blossomed, she knew that love made fools of men. There were many that came and went, fell over themselves and professed love for her pretty eyes and tinkling laugh. Even a Dornish prince had played the fool for her and sworn off marriage, and instead pursued fleeting desires.

Elia broke her promises and chose Rhaegar. When she uttered the rejection, Ashara literally heard her ribcage crack from the explosion beneath her chest. She had finally conjured up the confidence to confess long-hidden feelings and Elia gave a response she never foresaw. Her sweet Elia, the one she trusted above all others, and the one that loved her like none. The irony was not lost in that, at the beginning, she had wanted to apologize in advance because she thought it would be her to accidently break Elia’s heart and run, just like she always had. Yet, in the end, it was Elia who ripped her heart out and abandoned her.

It was only in Elia’s abandonment that Ashara realised she never healed what was broken inside of her. Elia was the tourniquet to her being, and without her, she was left bleeding on the cold, hard ground.

First, came an agonising emptiness which left her powerless to rise from her bed. Then, a volatile rage she unleashed on anything in her proximity. Next, she chased an oblivion in endless goblets of wine. Lastly, came the venomous desperation, which had her acting out for Elia’s attention in the most foolish ways.

After a long confinement, when Elia had not come chasing as usual, Ashara returned to court like a hurricane, on the centre stage of the Realm’s biggest and most extravagant tourney.

Lord Whent’s tourney at Harrenhal attracted nobility from every hill, river and rock in Westeros. From the sour lords of winter to the prickly roses of the Reach; to the stags of Storm’s End, to the old keeper of the Mountains of the Moon. Even Mad King Aerys, looking haggard and unhinged, crawled out of the dragon’s den for the first time in years, much to Rhaegar’s dismay. However, noticeably, the lions of the Rock were nowhere to be seen, except the newly knighted golden cub, Ser Jaime.

The tourney was as much a political event as it was an athletic melee. Treason was in the air, and the Great Houses of Westeros had more in mind than jousting, archery, and merrymaking. Ashara knew of the great efforts Rhaegar and Elia underwent to secretly fund the tourney in guise of calling a Great Council and initiating Rhaegar’s ascension to the Iron Throne.

After the opening ceremonies, when the dancing walls were hung with magnificent tapestries, each emblazoned with the symbols of the Great Houses, the psychological games began. Aerys made his own power plays and officially named Ser Jaime the youngest knight in kingsguard history. A clear spite at his Hand, thereby claiming the heir to the Rock his own.

Nonetheless, Ashara had plots of her own in mind. Driven by foolish attempts of attention seeking and many a cup of heady Dornish Reds, Ashara dragged Prince Oberyn up after a long evening of introductions and tedious niceties.

“Now, come. Let us show these stiff Northerners how to dance properly, my prince!”

Always ready for mischief, Oberyn set aside his wine before Ashara swept him to the centre of the dance floor.

Ashara expected the many eyes which stalked them, the distrust for the Dornish and their strange ways was something she was long accustomed to. Yet, there was only one pair of dark orbs Ashara cared to attract.

She took one of Oberyn’s serpents and waved to the musicians, who picked up their instruments and began to liven up.

The technicoloured red and blue serpent slithered up her arm and down her exposed mid riff.

Ashara was a foolish maid in love, recklessly seeking the love she was deathly afraid of losing. When she gazed up at the princely couple, seemingly besotted with one another, she knew she would sooner withstand Elia’s blazing rage than her careful distance.

She brought the serpent’s head close to her face and stuck out her tongue as its forked one did the same. The music swelled and she began to mirror its movements seductively as Oberyn stalked around her gyrating form. She moved with a slow and sensuous purpose as the snake coiled around her and slithered into Oberyn’s grip. Her body wove itself lithely in tandem with the growing rhythm of the seductive beats.

To dance was her freedom, to dance was to become a shooting star, and in the crumbling ruins of Harrenhal, Ashara came alive for the first time in so long.

Her movements flowed with a dazzling grace that took away the breath of every person in her audience. She felt her soul become one with the music and she unleashed her emotions into the dance; heartbreak, jealousy, longing. In that moment, she needed to dance as badly as she needed to breath. She wanted to shine and be seen in the darkness.

When she noticed that Elia’s attention remained on her husband, despite the audience she drew, Ashara grew more desperate. She was determined to draw such spectacle that Elia had to do something. Anything. It was not a well thought out strategy, merely a frantic attempt to salvage what had been shattered between them.

When the song ended and the applause came, Ser Barristan the Bold, stepped out another fool in love.

“Lady Ashara, I must insist on the honour of dancing with you. I am no great dancer, but I am certain your talents will more than make up for my lack of skill.”

She nearly declined until she caught Elia curiously watching her. She took it as a small victory and laughed loudly, throwing her head back.

“Ser Barristan, the honour is all mine.”

She took his offered hand, and it was the first of many. She danced with an entire host of men; princes, knights, and lords alike. Ashara was in her element, gliding close to whichever man she held close in her long arms and dared hope to see vexation in Elia’s expression.

She chased Elia and they chased her.

The men would take and so would she, for it was clear love was not meant for Ashara. These men would flirt and dance, perhaps even take her to bed, or to wed, but she knew none of them meant to see her beyond the violet eyes and fair golden skin. The only eyes which had ever seen her were so dark she could scarcely breath sometimes, and now they were blinded by fire.

Despite the sparing glances, Elia made no movement towards her, and Ashara descended further.

She left behind willing partners looking forlorn as she bounced to her next conquests. She flirted outrageously and was vitalised by the scandalised looks.

She was entirely content to continue her path of self-destruction until she saw dark grey eyes watching her. She noticed them follow her as she danced with Barristan, Prince Lewyn, Ethan Glover and Jon Connington. Always watching yet without hungry lust as some, or barely disguised disgust as the others.

She knew he was a Northman from the rigid way he sat between the boisterous young storm lord Robert Baratheon and his patron, old Jon Arryn, the Lord of the Vale.

Her curiosity fell away when from the corner of her eye, she saw Elia gaze over at her before whispering something to Arthur, and when he walked over to her, she felt victorious in her rebellion.

Yet, those hopes were quickly dampened.

“Did she send you here?” She asked.

Arthur sighed and looked at her apologetically.

“No.”

Elia did not want her. Ashara feared that this new meek woman that was Rhaegar’s wife would never love her like Elia of Dorne had.

Were things the way they once were, Elia would have risen from her seat and joined in the merriment long ago, propriety be damned. Ashara yearned for Dornish nights and Rhoynar rhythms, of small soft hands and blood orange scented kisses.

Ashara was taken out of her reverie and reminded of exactly where she was. On the dancefloor of a crumbling castle with near enough every pair of eyes on her except the ones she wished for.

Arthur gently caught her hand.

“Sister, dance with me,” he prompted.

She knew Arthur’s intentions were to soothe her suffering as he always had. For the pleading in his expression, she accepted the request and rocked with him to the slowing tune.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it now, but you will learn to breathe again without her,” he explained interrupting the stillness between them.

“I don’t want anything without her.” She answered petulantly, cursing herself for sounding like a spoilt child.

She felt more childish when he leaned back slightly and peeped down at her seriously.

“Ashara, you have to learn to live for yourself, not for anyone else, not even for her. For so long you held love with an iron grip but at arm’s length. You could have had your sweet Elia long ago. Inevitably, it would still have ended the same way because duty was always going to call for the prized sun of Dorne…”

His words stirred something uncomfortable inside her. They were difficult truths to accept. She made many excuses for why she waited so long to reveal the depth of her feelings. It always came down to her own inadequacy and inability to feel deserving of love.

“…You deserve love, Asha. Just because it no longer resides where you believed it to, does not mean it is not out there for you,” he finished.

Deep down she still felt like the neglected child that begged for scraps of her mother’s attention – like the abused girl that was sullied long ago.

It was an arduous and complicated set of issues to settle, but for the first time, Ashara was confronted with the truth.

“I don’t know who I am without her,” she admitted.

“Then perhaps you ought to find out.”

She took a moment and considered Arthur’s suggestion.

She wondered if it truly was time to attempt to move on. It left her chest feeling tight because it was something she never even fathomed to consider before. It was in the unknown to exist anywhere that was not Elia’s side.

Before she could respond, she was swiftly whisked into the arms of another, the charming Brandon Stark. He had made himself as well known as the young storm lord that evening, and it would be a lie to say her eye had not wondered to him during the introductions.

“Lady Ashara,” he greeted with a mischievous smirk and mirth gleaming in his eyes.

She feigned disapproval but continued gliding along with him despite it.

“The Sword of the Morning will not take too kindly to that, lord Brandon. I fear you may have made yourself a formidable enemy in the lists tomorrow.”

Brandon was not typical of the stony-faced Northmen. He was bold and confident, which she found attractive, although she would never admit that aloud; there was a cockiness to him that raised her defences.

“It’s just harmless fun, why should he make an enemy out of me?” He countered.

He acknowledged Arthur and nodded in respect, although the twinkle in his eye remained.

“You have a sister do you not – how pleased would you be if a man took off with her?”

The smugness fell from his expression momentarily.

“I suppose for her honour, he would become my enemy,” he answered gazing towards a young dark-haired girl Ashara assumed to be his sister.

She was a pretty thing, with the same teasing glint in her eyes as Brandon.

“Then what makes you exempt from my brother’s wrath?”

His knowing smirk returned as he peered at her with his grey eyes, and she hated how it made her blush.

“For a start, you think me quite handsome, and you enjoy me.” He winked with a growing grin.

Ashara laughed despite herself.

“And that’s enough to warrant his forgiveness?” She countered.

He shrugged playfully before brushing her hair back from her shoulder, with just the right look of heat in his eyes and moving in so close she could feel his lean body pressed up against her.

“Then perhaps I ought to give him better reason to make me his enemy.”

She pretended to be indifferent to Brandon’s seduction. It would not do to allow someone with an ego like his know how much power he had. Thus, she refused to lean in or seem too keen.

“You’re very sure of yourself.”

“As are you, Ashara.” He looked pointedly at the men that stood peeved in the wake of her abandonment.

“If you came over to insult me Brandon, you can surely return.” She scolded as she recoiled.

Ashara was not a stranger to rumours, men and women alike often set their tongues wagging over tall tales about her. Unlike Dorne, the rest of Westeros were prude little creatures when it came to pleasures, but she would be damned if the would-be Warden of the North, who had his own whispers of lovers and bastards, would question her integrity.

“My lady please forgive my impertinence. In fact, I truly came here to request a dance of you, with a man far more honourable than me.”

Confusion washed through her, but strangely, she was intrigued. Man after man had taken what they wanted from her this night, and it was odd that one remained reserved.

“That won’t take much… but go on, who is this poor fellow?”

A wide grin spread across his features.

“My young brother is too shy to approach you. Don’t be so hard him. Whilst I was blessed with all the charm in the family, he is good and honourable, a man worthy of your time.” He spoke with pride.

As audacious as Brandon had been, it was evident now that it was act to make his brother appear the better man.

“Very well, but I shall decide that for myself.”

Brandon returned to his table and Ashara was surprised to find that his shy brother was the stiff Northman that had been watching her all night.

Ashara could not help but chuckle endearingly when she saw the younger Stark’s back stiffen and panic wash across his features as Brandon whispered to him.

The young Stark was not as tall as his brother, just of a height with her; he kept his long hair tied back messily, and unlike Brandon, wore simple clothing unadorned with any marks of House Stark.

It would be difficult to guess they were brothers if their features were not so similar, and even then, where Brandon was always smiling, the young Stark already had frown lines across his brow.

“My lady, I thank you for the honour of a dance,” he greeted, inclining his head rigidly, and offering his hand.

She took his hand and led him to the dancefloor.

It was awkward at first, because even at their slow pace, it was clear Stark did not have the grace of a dancer. She rearranged his hands until they were in the correct position, and led the steps, anything to occupy herself from meeting his mystifyingly intense gaze.

“Do you happen to have a name?” She wondered, once they swayed in rhythm to the languid tune.

“I do.” He answered, adding nothing further even as Ashara tilted her head in curiosity.

“You’re not very talkative, are you?”

“If you might give me your name, I shall give you mine.” He said unsmiling.

When she finally met his expectant stare, she saw the beginnings of a smile pulling at his cheeks, and something akin to intrigue flared inside her.

In that moment, instead of seeking Elia, she found herself regarding Stark, questioning if he was not shy at all, but instead, reservedly confident.

“It appears you already know who I am.” She answered with a cock of her brow.

“I would rather get the name from the lady herself than the fame which precedes her.”

Ashara found herself pleasantly surprised by their exchange.

“I am Lady Ashara Dayne, lord Stark.”

“Thankfully, I shall never be lord Stark… I am Eddard Stark, although you may call Ned.”

A teeth-baring grin spread, and his face transformed. She found herself strangely attracted to the quiet wolf.

“Ned.” She said testing out the syllables on her tongue.

The song picked up pace, as did she.

Her feet struck the floor in perfect synchronisation with the building tempo and his pursued with every step. Ned’s grey eyes shone behind the shy expression as they advanced, retreated and pirouetted.

The rapidly enclosing space between them felt electric and burning. There was something she could not explain about this quiet Northman, who stared into her eyes as if he could see past all that she armoured herself with and saw the frightened girl inside. She felt admired, as one might the stars on a clear night.

“Why do you keep staring at me?” She finally asked, fascinated in his unravelling scrutiny of her.

His answer made the flirtatious grin fall from her face.

“You have danced and laughed quite a lot tonight… But I can’t help by notice, you don’t seem all that happy, my lady.”

Shaken, she abruptly halted her movements.

She remembered the pain in her chest and found Elia across the room, glaring at her with fire behind her eyes. She was confused because this was what she initially wanted, but now she had it, it felt nothing like victory. For with Ned, for just a moment, she put aside her heartache… and breathed.

“You’re very perceptive.” She answered, a slow panic filling her.

“I’ve said the wrong thing.” He commented apologetically, noticing the change in her.

She looked up at him wide-eyed, contemplating the stirring emotions inside her.

For reasons unclear to herself, she lurched to kiss him, but he pulled away just as quickly.

Embarrassment filled her and she exploded into blazing anger.

“Is this not what you wanted, Ned – to say you had an easy Dornish wench to your brother and friends?” She spat turning to walk away.

He chased her before she could escape, appearing ahead desperately.

“I meant no disrespect, lady Ashara. I would never dishonour you in such a way, only when I kiss you, I want it to be because you want it, not because you think that’s what I want.” He interrupted.

That he could read her so easily, and was not scared away by it, terrified her. Just like she always did, she crumbled under her fears and lashed out.

“What honour is there in getting your brother to do your courting? I pity you Ned, that’s why I danced with you.”

He flushed in embarrassment, and deep down, Ashara was ashamed for it.

“Then allow me to rectify my actions, may I do something no other has done today?”

Despite her urgent need to flee, she was intrigued.

“Go on.”

“Will you come sit with me, Ashara?”

“What?”

Again, she was surprised by this strange Northman.

“I want to get to know you, is that so hard to believe?”

She carefully maintained a neutral expression. Yet, even in that, he read her disbelief.

“Come on, Ashara, get to know me, take a chance on a fool in love.” He pleaded.

Love.

The word spun around in her head, and she realised, for the first time, it was something she truly yearned for.

Warmth began to spread through her blood and hammering seized her chest.

“I-I…”

Despite her epiphany, her tongue fumbled in her mouth. She did not know how to articulate such desires and succumbed to old behaviours.

“…I can’t. I’m sorry.”

Without a single glance back she fled, a maid made a fool by love.

#asoiaf fic #fanfic #ashara dayne #elia martell #dorne #house martell #elia x ashara #arthur dayne #game of thrones #ned stark #ned x ashara #house dayne #got fic #brandon stark #Brandon x ashara

[pendragon-ally]

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

[blog-for-merlin]

I Can Count His Goosebumps

Author's Note: You will quickly come to realise that I can't write endings for shit but apparently a writer is his own worst critic so, idk.

Lots of of fluff and if touch is your love language, you'll get it. That said, enjoy!!

♡♡♡

"This is a cave, Arthur!"

"Oh Merlin, so dramatic! Cave... inn... they're virtually the same thing," Arthur grins with that glint in his eye which manages to simultaneously worry and please Merlin at the same time. The king doesn't tend to grin like that very often these days. There isn't much to take pleasure in. Even Gwaine's mindless idiocies failed them to the point that the knight rarely did much else than his duties.

The satisfaction of having prompted a smile from the king quickly dissipates as Merlin remembers the issue at hand. He crosses his arms, "I'm not sleeping here," he scoffs.

"Stop being a whinge, Merlin. Look," Arthur waves in the general direction of the floor, "Firm ground to rest on," he gestures to the roof of the hollow, "And a shelter from the rain. What more could you want?"

As if coordinated, a fat droplet plummets from the ceiling onto the king's face. Merlin stifles his giggle—he's not going to let Arthur think he's been convinced. A shiver runs down the his spine and he huddles tighter into himself. The winters seem to be getting more and more unbearable as the years go by, "It's cold."

Arthur groans, too tired to tease his manservant any further. Patience seems to be rationed as of late. Not just for the king, but for everyone. The gloom of Morgana's death seems to sweep over the entire kingdom. The ugliness of who she transformed into doesn't easily erase who she once was, the darling of Camelot. Swiftly, Arthur whips off his cloak and throws it at Merlin, "There. Now will you please stop complaining and just get some rest? If we're to reach Ealdor by the evening, we have to leave at first light."

He unties his scabbard belt, setting it down and attempts to seek out a dry spot to sleep on the damp ground, finding only a small space against the back wall, hardly enough to fit two men. It's not like we haven't slept in worse, Arthur thinks, remembering an uncomfortable night involving a dead rabbit, a tight hanging net, limbs intertwined so closely it felt like they were extensions of each other. A secretly fond memory from times long past. What would he have done if there wasn't a rabbit wasn't trapped between them? If there was less distance, if their faces were mere millimetres apart, if they'd felt each other's breath on their faces. What would he have done then?

Merlin's voice startles him from the rather inappropriate wanderings of his mind, "You know Arthur, you still haven't given me back that cloak I gave you,"

The king pivots to face Merlin who is wrapped adorably in his cloak, only some unkempt tufts of hair and twiggy feet poking out from the scarlet fabric, "What cloak?"

"My cloak. The blue one. The only blue cloak you have?" The king feigns confusion.

Merlin huffs and rolls his eyes, Arthur can be so childish at times, in an irritatingly endearing way that makes you forget that he's the head of an entire kingdom, "The one that you keep wearing to your hunts and getting dirty and then never returning because it needs to be washed?"

"Oh right, that one," Arthur smirks sheepishly, tugging at the back of his hair, "It's dirty,"

"Yes, I bet it is."

"Wait a minute, you know I'm the king here, right?" Arthur grabs his scabbard and throws it on the dry space in the back as Merlin follows him.

"That's what they tell me,"

"You can't talk back to me like that, Merlin. That's treason."

"If you were going to arrest me every time I committed 'treason', Arthur, I'd be long gone by now." Which was true enough, Arthur figures, as he takes Merlin's satchel from him and throws it next to his own while Merlin tries not to trip on the cloak or the slippery rock.

"Perhaps I should have, then," Arthur mutters, settling himself down next to the cave wall. Merlin pauses a moment as he realises that the tiny space next to Arthur is the only remaining hint of dryness left on the cavern floor, "Arthur!" he exclaims in dismay, "How on Earth am I going to fit here?"

"Oh shut up Merlin, you're scrawny,"

"I'm not that scrawny!"

"You're just going to have to make it work, then, aren't you?" Merlin's eyes are blazing now, and he's not amused.

"Arthur I didn't ask you to come to Ealdor with me, I could have come on my own; I've come to Ealdor a hundred times on my own already. If I were on my own, perhaps I wouldn't have to sleep in a cave in the middle of who-knows-where on the soaking ground," Arthur should be furious at his manservant's words by now, but Merlin's cheeks are turning pink to match the cocoon of cloak around them in a way that Arthur can't help being charmed by, and it doesn't sound like Merlin is slowing down at all to give him a chance to butt in, " In fact, I'd probably be there already, in dry clothes and with a full belly. So if you don't move your giant bum over right now, you prat, and give me the side of the wall, I'm leaving."

If the cold wasn't making Merlin breathless enough yet, that mouthful of a rant definitely did. Not managing to muster up any more than a tired chuckle and an "Okay, okay... calm down Merlin," Arthur shuffles himself away from the wall and lets Merlin pull himself over into his place.

Merlin gets grumpy when he's tired, and it had been a long day. This is enough to convince Arthur to let his manservant off, just this once. In reality, Arthur knows that 'just this once' has happened at least six times in the the past two months alone. Clearly, Merlin isn't as feeling as nonchalant about his sister's passing as he tries to let on. Sighing, Arthur removes his jacket, folding it into a pillow and wriggles down onto his side. He pushes himself as far away from the slimy moss as he can, digging his back into Merlin's. The unexpected contact, which is not unpleasant in the slightest, draws out a gasp from the king, which he hopes was drowned out by the sound of the pouring rain outside.

"Arthur, you're squishing me,"

"Oh would you stop complaining?" Arthur grunts. He spins himself around so that he's facing Merlin's back, draped in his own cloak. His breath hitches as he imagines Merlin huddled under the hills and valleys of red made by the fabric.

The sheerness of his shirt under it, so sheer and wet that it might as well not be there at all. He tries not to think about the paleness of his skin, and the goosebumps that must be all over it in this freezing cold. He lets out a breath he didn't realise he was holding and with it, a shiver.

Merlin feels, no, senses, Arthur's head near him. He goes as still as a stone. They're so close. But not close enough. The distance is excruciating. He feels the king's shudder and realises his privilege––not so much a privilege, but a barrier. Darn cloak. "You're cold," he says, as bluntly as he can muster.

"What? No I'm–" Arthur is cut off by another shudder.

Arthur watches as his servant struggles to unwrap himself from the cloak. Should he refuse? He is the king, after all, perhaps he does want the cloak. But these thoughts are not what appear at the forefront of Arthur's brain. Skin. All he can see is skin. Skin everywhere. So close. So damn close. "Here, take it."

It does have goosebumps, his skin. A hell of a lot of them. And he's shuddering like a flag in the wind, "It's fine, Merlin. You need it more than me."

"You're the king. Gods forbid, I get arrested. Isn't that right, Your Highness?" Merlin throws the cloak to Arthur, who seems to be fixated on his back. His now almost bare back. He shifts himself, moving himself back, ever so slightly, closer to Arthur. Not close enough.

Gods, Arthur. Pull yourself together. It's Merlin we're talking about. The king clears his throat, "We'll share," he announces, as nonchalantly as possible and throws the cloak over the two of them, shifting closer still, his arm arching over Merlin's shuddering body, touching ever so slightly. He can count the goosebumps now. One, two, three four, five... if he moves his head just a tiny bit more...

Arthur's hair feels soft and inviting on Merlin's back, as if enticing him, and his breath––hot and cold at the same time. Not close enough. One small movement and it'll be his lips. Without thought, Merlin seizes the king's wrist where he's holding the cloak over them, bringing it into himself in an embrace. Or into a trap? He pushes himself back into Arthur, feeling both bodies yield to the touch. Merlin keeps Arthur's hand, strangely warm, clasped tightly in his own, pressed against his chest.

Skin. SO much skin. Arthur lets Merlin push his body into him. He lets his back press into his lips. At least that's what he tells himself. He's only avoiding resistance, not participating. You can't be participating if you don't have control. And Arthur has no control, none at all. Only his body does. Only his lips. Only his hands, his chest. And so he lets his arms wrap around Merlin's stomach pulling him in tighter, closer. He lets his lips wander all over his back, searching for the skin, skin, more skin under his shirt.

Merlin feels Arthur's lips running all over his back, as if they're searching for something lost, desperate to find it. And they do, as Arthur's mouth finds itself immersed in Merlin's shoulder. Merlin forced his lips to stay closed as to not make a noise, and a deep breath is all that he allows to escape. He dares not turn back, he can't face Arthur, not like this. He lets himself bask in the darkness of the night and the secrecy of the pounding rain outside the cave. He wonders what this means, all of it. This fire is his heart, what will it amount to?

Arthur lets his lips, and hands and body and the flame in his heart take control. He lets himself forget everything. Camelot, Morgana, everyone. For Him. For His skin. For His touch, he'll let himself forget the whole world.

And under warmth of that flimsy red cloak, in that small cave, on that rainy night, the two flames finally collided. And no one could have guessed how much damage it would cause.

♡♡♡

#merthur #touch #bbc merlin #fanfic #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #love language #merlin #merlin bbc #writing #fic #shorts

[where-dreamers-go]

“For You” Sir Percival x Lady!Reader

(A/N: Requested to be a more specific reader. Thank you for requesting.

Summary: A Lady of Camelot’s court who is quite close to Sir Percival, yet loves him from a distance.

I’ve been wanting to finish this for what is probably weeks now, but I really needed to be in the right headspace for it. I didn’t want to type up fluff while feeling blah. I love fluff too much for that. So~ here we go~! I hope you’re well!

Word Count: 2,332 )

The heels of your shoes clicked across the floor as you walked further away from your chambers. You were in a great need to stretch your legs. Thankfully, the castle was quite large.

Halls, rooms, and windows were etched into your mind. You grew up in Camelot and could walk its halls with your eyes shut. As a Lady of the Court you were allowed to roam as you pleased. To speak to whomever you wanted. That wasn’t quite you. Yes, you were a noble, however you were rather quiet and not one to walk up to someone directly to speak. In the very least, you were grateful that your position did not force you to speak when you did not wish to.

In clean and pressed clothes, you tentatively entered an occupied hall. Not too busy, but enough to remind you that you were not the only being roaming the castle that morning. Your eyes peered to every movement for quick evaluation. Searching for a familiar face. You secretly hoped to see Sir Percival.

There was something about the reserved and caring knight that brought an involuntary smile to your lips. The very image in your mind at times evoked the expression.

It was by chance most days that you would encounter the knight. Knights’ and guards’ schedules for the day were secret. You would never seek the information. The thoughts never occurred and it would be most selfish. You were happy with the surprise of seeing Sir Percival when you did. He was busy with knight duties. Yet, you both managed to become close. Quite close to something new.

Your fingers brushed against the fabric of your clothes. There was an additional energy in the air. Unknown and quick. It made you a fraction anxious.

The halls were louder. Chatter and movement.

You followed where your feet carried you and wondered what was happening. Your eyes watched a group of guards move from one hall to the next, to go outside no doubt.

Preoccupied with your thoughts, Sir Percival had the opportunity to walk close enough, still at a distance.

Catching movement in front of you, you took in a quick breath of air.

Sir Percival was walking your way. Red cape billowing and framing his metal armor.

You smiled and weren’t quite sure what to do. Finding your feet were no longer moving you through the hallway, they were not even moving to meet him half way. You could only watch as he soon stood in front of you.

“My lady.” Sir Percival bowed with a soft smile on his face.

You nodded briefly, forcing your shoulders not to meet your ears.

“Hello, Sir Percival.” You greeted. You always were glad when you found your voice whenever you wanted to speak with him. A positive light in your day to share words with him.

“You’re well, I hope?”

“I am.” You answered quickly.

“That’s comforting to hear.”

“How are you?”

His eyes remained on your face as a couple of knights walked passed. The smile on his lips faltered.

“I must join the other knights to end a threat outside of the city. We are leaving soon. I’m afraid…I’m not sure how long we will be away. Not every knight is going of course, so there is no need to worry about safety.”

“The length of time away is not what I worry about.” You said quietly. Clasping your hands together tightly, you saw as more knights clad in armor and deep red capes strode by.

“I wish you victory and a safe return,” you looked up into his kind eyes.

Hands lifted yours and covered them warmly. His thumbs caressed your skin softly.

“Take care, my lady. I will be back soon.” Leaning down, Percival pressed a chaste kiss to the top of your hand.

You felt the skin instantly warm across your face. A tug in your chest spread an extra warmth over your skin. At that moment you weren’t even aware of your feet on the floor.

Another smile and a bow were directed to you before Percival joined the knights. They left the hall and gathered outside.

Oh, how you loved him from afar.

You wished more than anything for his horse to bring him back as swift as a breeze on the sea. Even if the thoughts of reuniting made your palms sweaty, it was what you wanted. Safety for Percival. Safety for all that inhabited Camelot.

. . .

King Arthur and the knights had yet to return. It had been about three days.

In that span of time, you had managed to worry more than recommended by the Court Physician and the floor of your chambers were likely to ware from your pacing.

True, the knights had journeyed passed the walls before and even seen a share of battles. They had even been away from Camelot for far longer than three days on other occasions. The dangers had been greater on those days.

Knowing the past did not soothe your worries nor the fears in your mind. Not having many duties of your own allowed more time for the worries to come out to the forefront of your thoughts. You were concerned for those who you knew, those who protected the kingdom, and one man who filled both categories.

You had left your chambers earlier to distract yourself. Happy to find a reminder why everything was alright. To know that things were as they should be. That not all would turn out so poorly. You needed to remind yourself of hope.

The halls bustled with activity and busy people who took ahold of your attention as you had taken a different route. Offering your mind something new. Even if it was only for short bursts of time. You would take it.

Along a hall, you walked by a pair of castle servants cleaning some decorations. Their rags had seen their fair share of chores and the servants as well. The pair chatted to themselves, hardly paying any mind to you.

Castle gossip was not something your ears liked to pick up on.

You were almost out of earshot when of the pair when you heard something about the knights’ return. You stopped.

“—be here soon, I take it.”

“Have to be walking through the gates already.”

You practically leaped to your toes when you heard the two speaking. A smile spreading across your lips as you turned in their direction to—

“Pity not all of them are returning.”

“What do you mean? …someone was killed?”

“Aye, one of the tall ones.”

Overhearing the piece of a conversation took the air and warmth out of you.

“…The poor thing. You’d think someone of that stature would be fine.”

“Protecting the kingdom so selfless.”

A hand on your abdomen, you found breathing incredibly difficult. Near impossible. Eyes unfocused, your feet stumbled elsewhere.

“No,” you murmured.

How could their words be true? How could they be truly wrong?

“Percival.”

Rumors could be altered. Truth could sound different to others.

Your feet had taken you to another part of the castle where an open window overlooked a courtyard. Red capes and horses gathering. The knights had indeed returned.

Through the force of your forearm, you leaned heavily against the window. The outside air reawakened your senses and brought you back to the present. Out in the world, your eyes focused on the bright light blue sky. Calm and clear.

You shook your head. You were a Lady of the Court. You needed to see their return. It was one of your duties, was it not? You gathered knowledge from trustworthy sources not by rumor.

Forcing yourself to move, you stood straight without a wobble in your knees. You were going to see the protectors of Camelot return, to pay respects. To see with your own eyes what was true.

In a matter of minutes you had exited a large wooden door. Your determined steps kept your head held higher than your heart felt.

Out in the courtyard, the knights were dismounting their horses. Gwen was there, looking tall and proud at the foot of the steps.

You stood quietly out to the side about a few steps shy of the cobblestones—until your eyes happily recognized a tall knight. Sir Percival standing at his full height. He was there. Alive. Smiling even.

Your shoulders slacked even as your hands gripped tightly together.

Sir Percival smiled widely as he made eye contact with you. Leaving his horse for a stablehand to take care of, he made his way to you in long strides.

“My lady.” He said as he reached the steps.

“You’re alright,” you took a step down as he stood on the lower steps in front of you.

“Of course.” He paused. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I—um,” you stumbled over your words. “I had heard that someone was…that someone was killed and—.”

“No,” he quickly interrupted. Percival walked up another step. “No one was killed. A few cuts and scrapes, but we’re all fine. I promise.”

You nodded, words too heavy to speak out loud.

With another step up, Percival brought you into a hug just as you felt the tears threatening to fall from your eyes. Covering your vision and hiding you from the false claims that tried hurting you deep, he held you. Head tucked away underneath his own, he quietly reassured you that everything was alright. Tears were allowed to be shed whether for happiness or for the fear that disappeared from your system.

“There is no need to worry. All is well,” Percival whispered. “I can not be taken away from you so easily.”

Slowly, you pulled back enough to clearly see his face. Soft and caring.

“I have so much in life that I wish to have, to be.” He searched your eyes, more vulnerable than you had ever seen him. “More than anyone and more than anything now…I love you.”

Tears brimmed your eyelids once more. Your fingers could not gain a firm grip on the chainmail around the knight’s torso.

He raised a thumb to your face and wiped away a stray tear.

You had not expected his words. How could you? There had been no courting. Nothing official. Nothing firm other than a strong friendship that bended in such affectionate ways.

“Do…do you love me?” His voice was barely a whisper.

Your lips pressed tightly together for a moment. The emotions of the moment mixing with the relief you had already felt.

“Yes,” you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “I do love you.”

He grinned brightly. Arms pulling you close again.

“You love me,” Percival leaned down and gave your cheek a chaste, but meaningful kiss.

He loves me, you thought.

There had been such a change in emotions and knowledge in simply ten minutes that you were unsure of what to do with yourself. Yet you were not one to complain about the results.

. . .

Walking through the halls of Camelot, you passed the occasional person. Their steps sounding off of the floor. Hurried steps behind you alerted you of someone approaching.

Before you turned down another hall on your way to the library, a voice called out your name.

You turned around and immediately stopped as you clasped your hands together. You were surprised to see Sir Percival. Yet happy nonetheless.

The surprise perhaps was not from seeing just him, however a handful of wildflowers in his hand.

Flowers. He has flowers.

“Percival,” you smiled. “On another mission?”

“In a way.” The knight held his head high. “For you. If you’d like.”

“I love them.” You retrieved the flowers delicately.

“And…,” he cleared his throat. “If you would permit, I would be honored to promise myself to you. For us to be together.”

From his other hand, Percival’s open palm revealed a simple ring.

Your gaze quickly met his eyes, questioning.

“A ring?”

“Yes. A promise.”

“You promise?”

“I do so promise, my lady.”

“Then we promise together.”

Percival’s grin reappeared as you allowed him to slip the ring on one of your fingers.

“To us,” he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles. Offering his arm, you held his arm as he soon lead you in the direction you had been walking.

Not even three paces into another hall, had the pair of you been spotted by Sir Gwaine and Sir Elyan.

“Ah, hello, (Y/N), Percival.” Sir Gwaine smirked. “Caught you after a date?”

Percival chuckled softly at his friends words while you avoided their gazes.

“It’s good to see you two spending time together.” Sir Elyan genuinely voiced.

“Sure, but Percival’s been spending so much time away from us. One day he might forget to put on his cape.”

“It’s better than forgetting my sword,” Percival quipped.

“Yet you might forget us,” Sir Gwaine mocked hurt, a hand over his chest.

You hunched closer to Percival, cheeks feeling like they were beside a fire from the jests provided by the knights.

“I don’t think anyone could forget you, Gwaine,” Elyan commented.

The three knights laughed together. It was joyous and in fun.

You peeked up at the group.

“Congratulations, my lady,” Sir Elyan bowed shortly. “Percival means well and he does care for you greatly.”

“Aye and good luck, Lady (Y/N),” Sir Gwaine smirked as he patted Percival’s other arm.

With nods and smiles, the two knights went along their way, however not before Sir Gwaine gave a thumbs up.

“Are you alright?” Percival asked, his free hand placed upon yours that held his arm.

“I am. Teasing is not something I am accustomed to.”

“No need to worry. They would not do anything against your honor.”

You smiled up at him.

“I know,” you whispered.

His hand found where the promise ring sat around your finger and he smiled.

“I will honor you and protect your honor for as long as I live.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~

DreamerDragon Tags: @pilindilofgondor  @cubedtriangle

#request #requested #sir percival x reader #Sir Percival #bbc merlin fanfiction #knight of the round table #Percival x reader #where dreamers go #Camelot #bbc merlin

[up-in-my-bunghole]

Dear writers of BBC’s Merlin:

It would be such a pleasure if you would just grow the fuck up and deal with the romantic and sexual tension you’ve created between Merlin and Arthur and just let them be gay for each other, you cowards.

Here’s some ideas to spice up the show with some Merthur content:

Merlin loses control of his magic after losing a great deal (probably a loved one) and he makes an explosion of destructive magic around him in his distress and he can’t calm it back down again. People try to approach him but they only end up flung aside, and they have no idea how to handle him. Until Arthur comes in, and he starts to walk toward Merlin successfully. Everyone sits silent as they watch, Arthur only focused on his friend as he comes face to face with his golden eyes and blue sparks of heat (I imagine an electric blowout). Slowly, Arthur talks to him in a way that only he can do, actually being sincere and gentle with his words (although a few jabs slip, it doesn’t hurt Merlin’s feelings or make it worse, bc that’s just who Arthur is). He reaches out and takes his hand, feeling the prickle of sparks in his palm, but Merlin starts to settle with his presence, the glow in his eyes flickering ever so slightly. Eventually, Arthur comes in to hug him and bring him down all the way, and Merlin is back to normal.   

                                                                       Another magic one would be when Arthur is surrounded and has no hope for survival against his enemies, but Merlin stands in front of him just as they unleash their forces and deflects them all with a blast wave of pure power. He picks them off one by one, ruthlessly to save his king. After no one else is left standing or breathing in front of Merlin, he turns around to see Arthur completely blown away with a dismal “wow” and he gets up to kiss him as his reward.

A scene where Merlin and Arthur stand together at the final battle, gazing into the eye of the storm and knowing the chance that they will live to tell the tale is near impossible. With their last moments of solemnity, they link their hands, lean their foreheads together, and say their last goodbyes before they charge out into war.

For the past few days, Merlin has been getting these mystical pains (like a headache or some magical shit like that), and it’s been hindering him from completing his duties. Arthur notices it and bashes him for it, calling him a wimp and a girl. Merlin has a snarky remark to throw back in the beginning, but soon he doesn’t have the energy to respond. Over the days, he becomes more and more reclusive, and although Arthur notices, he doesn’t let up from his chores. Until one day, when he’s yelling at Merlin about the state of his bed chambers, Merlin yells out in delirious pain and then collapses with it, crying out in agony before passing out. Gaius is called to see him and he discovers that he has an inflammation of his meninges (the jello around the brain) ((or some other illness like that)) and Arthur finally realizes all the harm he’s done and how far he pushes Merlin. Once he recovers, Arthur apologizes and makes up for his shit behavior.

After all of Merlin’s rough battles and adventures and losses, Arthur is once again being a stick up his ass and walloping him about petty shit when Merlin has had enough. He snaps. Instead of taking all of Arthur’s insulting nagging, he fights back this time. Merlin is thrashing out at him, yelling and clawing with a fury in his eyes that almost flashes gold as he spills with rage. He lets go of all of it, all of the strife and pain and anger and loss. Hot, burning tears scald his cheeks, and he burns with them. Once it’s all out, once his tears can no longer pour and his voice has gone raw, he stuffs it back up, turns away from Arthur, and leaves him in his bedchamber with a stiff goodbye. All night, Arthur lays awake with Merlin’s voice in his head, haunted by his profound suffering that he was barely aware of. The next day, when Merlin silently serves his breakfast and starts to straighten up his linens, he whispers and ‘I’m sorry’ just behind him. Merlin only murmurs that it’s fine and an apology of his own for lashing out, but Arthur doesn’t take it. He turns Merlin around to face him, and he sees all the pain from yesterday still stowed away in his eyes. The only thing he can think to do is pull him to his chest and give him a hug with another ‘I’m sorry’ said next to Merlin’s ear. He can’t hold it all in anymore, and Merlin grips back with a choked, relieved sigh. Arthur says to never speak of this again. Merlin nods, but he can’t help but smile. Arthur smiles. too.

Or, Arthur comes storming into his chambers with his head about to explode with rage after a fight with his father, and a devastating loss. Merlin is in there polishing his armor or something when he sees stuff flying across the room and hears Arthur just about roaring in fury. When Merlin asks him what in the hell he’s on about, he gets a full face of a furious, unhinged Arthur. He’s throwing things, he’s tugging his hair, and he’s completely losing control.With every time that Merlin tries to talk some sense into him, he only burns up more until Merlin finally yells at him to please tell him what’s going on, and Arthur starts to yell again, but he can’t help it anymore. He starts to cry from everything his father has done, and everything he’s seen happen by his order and stood by. The things he’d done by his fathers side, even if it hurt his soul, and of course, his mother. He couldn’t take any more of it. Arthur can’t hide the tears welling in his eyes, Merlin stunned into worried silence at his outburst. After he lets Arthur have a moment, Merlin walks up to him and wraps his arms around his king, and just hugs him, letting Arthur let it all out. Once he’s settled enough and Merlin lets him go, Arthur whispers a thank you, to which he replies ‘of course, Sire’.

Just imagine that Merlin is secretly sparring with the other knights of the round table (probably Gwaine and Lancelot) to kick Arthur in the ass later. His time off is spent in the fields with a sword in hand, and Merlin has gotten pretty good. As Arthur is prowling the castle for his servant, he finds himself in the training yard to see Merlin with Gwaine, sparring. At first Arthur laughs, as he’s expecting Merlin’s rear end pummeled to the ground in the next few seconds. But Merlin has gotten quick, and although his clumsy demeanor is ever present, he’s actually very smooth. Arthur freezes right then and there as Merlin sweeps Gwaine off his feet and presses the sword to his chest, suddenly feeling flushed. When Merlin finds out that Arthur had been watching the whole time (with an awkward, witty little wave) Arthur can’t find the words, only nodding to him and turning tail. Merlin’s face soon turns red after, and Gwaine is a little shit about it and fucks around with Merlin and teases him endlessly.

Or, another fun one. Merlin got some shit or something spilled on him and he rushes into his room to get changed. Unbeknownst to Arthur, who speeds past Gaius and into Merlin’s room to behold.... Merlin, in nothing but his undergarments. And holy shit, Arthur was not prepared to see that. Merlin never takes off his tunic, much less his trousers. Never. Arthur hadn’t even seen his bare skin past his forearms. So to see his chest in plain sight, and his stomach and hips and shoulders and thighs is just... *poof*. Arthur has lost it. Merlin turns around and notices him there and yanks his sheet to his chest with a confused hello, trying to hide his red cheeks. Arthur is quick with a bullshit explanation and hightails it the fuck out, and both of them can’t stop blushing.  Before a tournament, when Merlin is preparing Arthur in the tent after they had a little fight that Arthur suspects Merlin is still a little mad about (well, not really a fight, just an altercation that has Merlin debating about sharing his feelings), Arthur is prodding and poking at him and all but begging him to banter with him. But, Merlin stays mostly silent while securing his armor. No matter how many insults he throws at Merlin, his mouth stays shut. As a last attempt to wring out some of Merlin’s humor or at least a smile, Arthur asks, “a kiss for good luck?”.  Merlin is actually stunned by his question at first, but he thinks about it for a moment. And after some awkward consideration and then a last thought of ‘fuck it’, Merlin tugs his chains and smacks his lips against Arthur’s, hot and wet and sudden and tight for the most shocking 6 seconds of Arthur’s life and then Merlin shoves him out of the tent and into the sparring match and Arthur is just O__o (I got this from a cool fanart comic, I can’t find it anymore tho, so the idea isn’t mine)

After Arthur finds out about Merlin’s magic and has returned from the lake (about a year later), he’s still a little weary of his sorcery, but he’s still curious. And once Merlin has had enough of his tip toeing, he finally sits him down in his chambers and shows him how amazing magic can really be. With a wave of his hand and some old, gentle words, Merlin conjures a ball of soft blue light that forms a dragon swirling around above Merlin’s fingers. Unlike the other times Arthur has seen dragons depicted, this one is graceful, and it seems docile as it floats over him. He’s enchanted with it, leaning in to look at it more closely. That’s when Merlin asked if he wanted to try something. He nodded, and Arthur’s hands were taken into Merlin’s with an incantation, and then he held a luminescent dragon in his hand as well. It dances around his head as he begins to smile.Ever since that faithful day Arthur keeps asking for Merlin to show him more magic, and every time he asks, Merlin smiles, too.

Can you tell I’m a fan of Merthur?

After Uther is dead, Arthur is shut off from the rest of the world, and not even the love of Camelot could bring him back. Merlin doesn’t say anything about it, silently supporting him with little acts, but not broaching him about it. One night, Merlin comes into Arthur’s bedchambers to see it completely tarnished. Clothes and trinkets thrown about askew, the sheets and curtains torn and discarded on the floor, and Arthur sitting on the floor with his arms resting on his knees, one of the most painful looks Merlin has ever seen trapped behind his eyes. Still, Merlin says nothing as he shuffles over to where Arthur is haphazardly collapsed on the floor, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. And he doesn’t say a word as he offers his hand, palm up, between them to where Arthur can see. Merlin doesn’t need to ask, and Arthur doesn’t need to answer as he tangles their fingers together. They speak without using their voices there, neither of them pushing, but both feeling a pull. Arthur’s tears start to fall, with Merlin squeezing his hand through them. Slowly, Merlin scoots closer until Arthur’s head is resting on his. They spend the entire night like that, the world outside a blur. No one bothers them, and no one comes to wake up the King, his head resting on Merlin’s shoulder. 

Merlin is pushed into the lake. During an ambush from Morgana and her forces, Merlin is knocked into the freezing water, cracking the ice and slipping under. It’s Lancelot that sees his neckerchief on the water surface and a pale body sinking through, racing against the splitting ice to reach him. He almost doesn’t grab him in time, but by partly submerging himself, he’s able to grab a hold on one of Merlin’s stiff arms and haul him over the surface. After hearing the lake’s surface break, Arthur knows something bad had happened, but he couldn’t actually go over and investigate until Morgana’s soldiers are on the ground in front of him. Once he does, he sees the red fabric damp and frosted on the water, and his heart frosts over with it. Merlin’s lips are blue like his fingertips, all the life drained from his skin. He’s not breathing. Now Arthur’s hands are shaking as he feels over Merlin’s cold skin for a pulse. He can’t feel one, but he won’t give up. He can’t. So he tries to give Merlin some of his warmth, rubbing over his arms and sides and rolling him over. He rips off his cloak and wraps him in it, but the fabric is soaked through in seconds. He pleads to the gods, begs them not to take him, not him, please. His tears burn hot in anger and desperation as he finally shakes his limp body and yells at him, orders him to live. Just then, Merlin’s fingers twitch, and not soon after he’s coughing up lake water onto himself, body now fully wracked with shaking as a burst of his magic forces his heart to beat, and for him to take in a breath. 

#merthur #merlin x arthur #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon x merlin emrys #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #fanfiction #ish #yes #yes I am going to write all of these #they all need hugs

[rosedavid]

For the ficlets for Merthur please. Lazy morning kisses before they’ve even opened their eyes, still mumbling half-incoherently, not wanting to wake up & routine kisses where the other person presents their cheek/forehead for the hello/goodbye kiss without even looking up from what they’re doing.

thank you so much!!! I loved writing this :) hope you enjoy!

...

Routine

It’s funny how Merlin’s routines have changed over the years. Merlin likes routine. He likes the ability to expect what’s coming, the comfort in monotony. A lot of people think that knights and nobles thrive on the unexpected, the perilous situations where you have to act fast. After all, that’s what being a knight is, isn’t it? Risking your life to protect the kingdom on a moment’s whim. But Merlin’s found the exact opposite of what most people expect, especially in the King himself.

As Merlin has discovered, much like himself, Arthur appreciates the calm days. The days when they go through routine like normal, starting with Merlin’s bright arrival and Arthur’s petulant groan at being awoken. It’s the small things that make the routine, as well. The way Arthur always likes Merlin to put his right side through clothes before the left, or the way Arthur always pretends not to notice when Merlin sneaks some blueberries off of his plate. As important as saving the kingdom is, both Arthur and Merlin come to appreciate routine.

Before coming to Camelot, Merlin’s routine looked a lot different, of course. Certainly not as rigid, but a routine, nonetheless. His mother would wake him, always commenting on how he shouldn’t be sleeping in and letting himself get lazy (even though she secretly let him sleep in extra sometimes). Merlin would help with various chores, different everyday but still chores. Mother would certainly chastise him about his use of magic at least once. Then, after attending to his mother, he often went to help others around the village. Will would join him, and they would skive off, as children often do.

Merlin would never have expected his routine to change back when he still lived in Ealdor, just like he never expected it to change again in Camelot. The thing about change is, it can come slowly or all at once. For Merlin, packing up and moving to Camelot to suddenly become a manservant to the Prince was definitely a change that happened suddenly, with hardly any warning. Throughout the years, though, as he continued to live and work under Arthur, things changed subtly. At first, Merlin thought Arthur was a giant prat (now, he’s just a prat sometimes), while Arthur thought low of Merlin, like a piece of grass stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Over time, their friendship formed. Without realizing it at first, they both came to enjoy each other’s company, to relish in it. And throughout the years, they’ve grown even closer, which brings them to that morning, when Merlin realizes that his routine has changed yet again.

Now, his routine starts not in his single bed in the Physician’s chambers, but rather in the very spacious bed he shares with Arthur. As the roosters begin to call out, and thin stripes of light filter through the spaces in the curtains, Arthur and Merlin wake. Neither make a move to get up, still lost in their sleepy hazes. Despite the huge bed, they always stay right beside each other throughout the night, limbs entangled in some fashion.

Both on the brink of sleeping again yet knowing they have to get up, they nuzzle into each other. Nearly silent voices mumble incoherently to each other as they protest even the thought of moving. But deep in their guts, they know they have to wake. Eyes still closed, Merlin will press sleepy kisses along Arthur’s face and down his neck. Arthur grumbles, of course, muttering, “Just a few more minutes…”

Eventually, though, Arthur gives in. He’ll roll up into a sitting position, hair sticking out every which way, and stretch with a satisfied noise. Merlin follows suit, rubbing sleep out of his eyes. Still attempting to wake fully, Arthur mumbles out a sleepy, “Good morning,” a smile curling on his lips as he watches Merlin stumble around their chambers in his half-awake state.

As the King and the Court Sorcerer, they always have a busy day ahead of them, oftentimes forcing them to be apart from each other for many waking hours at a time. They eat breakfast together if they have time. And they still bicker like school children, one habit that neither of them will ever shake.

One of Merlin’s favorite parts of their routine, surprisingly, is the goodbye. When Merlin, invested in a new protection spell, automatically finds himself presenting his cheek for Arthur to kiss in parting without even glancing up. Or, when Merlin needs to tutor some of the sorcerers in Camelot, Arthur leans slightly forward for a peck to the head.

When their paths do cross again later that day, the same thing often happens. A compulsory peck expected by both without even realizing it.

And Merlin knows that their routine will probably change again, and continue to change. That’s just how life works, he supposes. But Merlin has to admit that for now, this routine is his favorite by far.

...

Read some more of my fanfictions here

#merthur #merthur fanfic #merthur fic #merthur fanfiction #merlin #merlin bbc #bbc merlin #fanfiction #merlin emrys #arthur pendragon #fluff #prompts #asks #anonymous #answered

[degrassi-fanatic]

Knight’s Widow

Gwen does not know how much time has passed since the funeral. All she knows is that the flames that were once raging against the wood of the pyre have now died down. In its place, remains only the ashes of Lancelot’s earthly possessions. From where she is standing in front of what is left of the funeral pyre, she sees that the moon is already high up in the night sky behind the structures of Camelot.

As if her body has just registered it is night time, a shiver runs through Gwen’s whole body. Her flimsy skirts are not enough to protect against the cool summer nights. Had she been in any other circumstance, she would have already been on her way back home.

She doesn’t dare to go home today, though; she knows the only thing waiting for her at home are Lancelot’s belongings scattered around their once shared home. If she goes back home, all she will find is sorrow and Gwen likes to think she’s dealt with enough of that for a lifetime.

On their own accord, her palms come up to rub against the sides of her arms in an attempt to warm her up. The cold metal of the ring on her left hand is felt through the fabric of her sleeves.

All of a sudden, she feels a heavy fabric spread across her shoulders. In the pale moonlight, she can see the tell tale red of a knight’s cloak floating around by her feet.

At the sight of it, she bites back a cry because Lancelot used to do the exact same thing, he used to drape his cloak over Gwen.

The habit had begun last winter. The two of them had taken a stroll out in the forest only for the first snow to fall and cut their little outing short. Fortunately for Lancelot, seeing as he ran cold no matter what the season was, he had worn layers of tunics and thick woolen socks. Gwen, on the other hand, was still dressed in her thin maidservant skirts and open top flats.

At the sight of her, Lancelot had unclasped his cloak and swaddled her in the fabric. Without another thought, he picked up Gwen in his arms and rushed back towards Camelot. Ignoring all of Gwen’s protests as he did so. He knew that she secretly liked how doting he was.

Blinking back the memory, she finds Arthur standing next to her. Looking out to the long extinguished pyre. From the corner of her eye, she can spot him fiddling with his own wedding band resting on his ring finger.

“His last thoughts were about you.” Arthur murmurs as he is unable or unwilling, she does not know, to look her in the eye, “He told all of us to take care of you. To love you enough that you will not feel his absence.”

“I will always feel his absence.”

She will feel his absence in their home, even long after she's put away his possessions to keep her from bursting out in tears at the sight. She will feel his absence when she sees all of the knights lined up at the gates of Camelot for another quest, and how they're will be a gap between Gwaine and Leon because Arthur could not bear to replace Lancelot. Gwen will feel his absence for the rest of her life.

As she fiddles with her wedding ring, Gwen thinks she will not remarry, not for the life of her. She doesn't know if she can. How could she? How could she settle for anyone else after having lived less than a lifetime with Lancelot?

She loved him— No, she loves him with her whole being. No one else would ever come close to him. For her, there was only ever him.

“I think in all the time I have known him, I never told him I loved him.” she confesses as she clutches onto the lining on the inside of the cloak, “Never those exact words.”

Finally, Arthur turns to look at her. His eyes are rimmed red and Gwen is reminded that Lancelot was more than her husband, he was Arthur’s friend.

“Trust me, Gwen. He knew.” he says, his voice coming out choked, “It was implied.”

“When?”

“Everyday.” he answers, truthfully, “From the moment you two met.”

What were the last words Lancelot ever heard from her? Were they enough to remind Lancelot that he was loved, that he will always be loved?

Her throat starts to get watery as she recalls the last thing she ever uttered to him.

She hadn’t told him to be safe or that she needed him to come back or that he had to take care of himself.

No, Gwen had told him to take care of the knights. Gwen had made him promise her that he would look after their friends, their family.

“He died for me.” Gwen rasps out as water fills her eyes, “When you were all about to leave, I asked him to look after you. All of you.

“Why?” Arthurs asks as his voice breaks on the syllable, his face full of anguish, “Why would you ask him to do that?”

An inappropriate chuckle escapes her throat as she turns away from Arthur to look out at the pyre once more, in hopes that if she stares for long enough Lancelot just might come back to her.

“Because all of you have a self-sacrificing streak. I was worried about one of you, or God forbid all of you, dying. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another friend.” she explains as her gaze moves up to the night sky, “One already dealt me a mortal blow.

“Never in a million years, did I think Lancelot would adopt that penchant for death the rest of you had apparently been born with.”

It was true. Though the rest of the knights were family and tried their best to remain largely unharmed, they didn’t have a wife waiting for them to come back alive and whole. They had the allowance of acting reckless and, in Gwen’s opinion, stupid.

Lancelot couldn’t afford to take unnecessary risks for he had Gwen waiting at the gates of Camelot each time he came back. He had always swore to Gwen he would come back home to her, for her. For the most part, she bitterly thinks as she looks out at the ashes that were once her husband's sword, he kept his promise.

“I’m sorry I killed your husband.” he whispers.

Gwen wonders how many times Arthur had to say that to a knight’s widow.

“You didn’t kill my husband.” she says with a sigh, “I think you and I both know that nothing was going to stop Lancelot from walking into the veil. People call him noble, I call him stubborn.”

“He was one of the best men I ever knew.” Arthur admits.

To Gwen, he was the best man she had ever known but that alone had been his downfall. His sense of nobility, loyalty, chivalry was what had damned him in the end. All she had done was ask for a favour and she had sent him on the path down to his death.

God, Gwen had damned him.

The tears that were welling up in her eyes since the funeral had finally made their descent down her cheeks. A sob erupts out of her chest, wracking against the bones of her rib cage. She buries her face into her palms as she attempts to control the hiccuping cries leaving her. It's all in vain, however.

Without a moment's delay, Arthur collects her shaking frame into a hug, and she feels his arms wrap around her shoulders. Her hands claw against his back as she perches her chin on his shoulder. Tears fall down onto his tunic as she hears Arthur let out hushed reassurances. A second later his palm comes up to smooth down Gwen’s hair only serving to make her cry harder.

Gwen should pull away. It’s improper for the King, the married King, to be seen embracing the widow maidservant of one of his fallen knights, in the middle of Camelot. It would tarnish Arthur’s reputation and it would have Gwen even more on the outskirts with the serving staff of the castle.

Gwen should pull away but she doesn’t.

She just lost her husband, everything feels like it’s falling apart at the seams and she just needs her friend to help keep her together. For all the King's horses and all the King's men couldn't put the Knight’s widow back together again, she thinks to herself as she presses her nose down into Arthur’s tunic.

#merlin #guinevere #lancelot #gwencelot #~fic~

[quillyfied]

Mega Good Omens Fic Rec Post 1

OH BOY Y’ALL IT’S HERE

This is the first string of fics I would wholeheartedly recommend from my bookmarks (probably first of three, we’ll see). There are 65 fics sorted into 9 categories: Jaunts Through History/Canon; South Downs; Post-Apocalypse; Bus Ride/Night Before/Heaven and Hell; AU/UA (UA is Universe Alternate, where everything is the same, just...a bit to the left. I feel like that term has more nuance, idk); Soft; Touch-Starved/Body Worship/Wings; Bonus; H/C /Whump/BAMF. These will be the same categories for every fic rec post in this vein. I try to include warnings for sex and gore, if applicable, but please check the tags of each fic before you read, just in case.

Mega GOmens Fic Rec Post MASTER

PLEASE LET ME KNOW IF I BROKE A LINK OR MISATTRIBUTED SOMETHING.

I don’t read explicit works and I’m not a big fan of Human!AUs so there’s not any of those, but there’s a bit of just about everything else. Please enjoy! Hope the ReadMore works, sorry for folks on mobile if it doesn’t!

JAUNTS THROUGH HISTORY/CANON

1. Bright With His Splendour – Daegaer (T, specifically book-verse. This is an exquisite look at the developments in Crowley himself, especially as it relates to his war-related traumas in the War in Heaven and later WWI. The Arrangement is Aziraphale’s idea here, which is awesome. Highly emotional and visceral.)

2. Whatever Road We Choose – @ri-writing (T, the one where Aziraphale gets jumped by some demons and Crowley nurses him back to health, and Aziraphale has to confront his worldview when he realizes Heaven never responded to his call for help. Quiet and powerful as Aziraphale starts to realize Crowley isn’t everything he thought he was and maybe Heaven isn’t, either.)

3. Linked – @chekhov (T, the one where Crowley shows up in Bukhara and Aziraphale has to pretend to capture him so his angel intern doesn’t destroy Crowley entirely. Has a lot of fun moments and emotional growth in play. And yearning. Lots and lots of yearning.)

4. The Demon Favourite – @kanna-ophelia (T, the one where Crowley is posing as a nobleman and manages to build himself a little ramshackle family, and Aziraphale takes care of them when Crowley gets himself discorporated. Extremely tender, lots of Crowley cooing over babies.)

5. Akashic Records – @penig (Generally G, one T, the series where Crowley is head-over-heels from the start and broadcasts it loudly, and Aziraphale is in Panic Protective Mode. The series is gorgeous and vibrant, the characterizations are so spot-on and yet fresh, the dialogue is perfect, the character growth is delicious. I can’t gush enough about this one.)

6. But The Old Love Was Not So – BuggreAlleThis (G, the one written in the style of Le Morte d’Arthur about Aziraphale’s final few days in the court of King Arthur. Hilarious with the promise of emotional pain to come in the second half.)

7. flightless bird (dumb, wild, and free) – JennaCupcakes (@veganthranduil) (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale make out for half of history while Aziraphale has an ongoing existential crisis about being a broken angel. Poignant, sensual, culminates in a deliciously fraught confrontation where Aziraphale has to finally sort himself out and Crowley says some hard but true things. I once spent three hours trying to find this fic again without remembering the title so now it’s kinda ingrained.)

8. Nanny Knows Best – @patricianandclerk (M, rest of series is T, the one where Crowley endures some truly horrible experiences while serving as Warlock’s nanny. Adorable relationship between Warlock and Crowley, and it’s only getting better. The dynamic with Aziraphale is nuanced and beautiful. Rating for sexual harassment and groping, and it’s a bit of a difficult read at times during those moments, so be careful.)

9. The Holy Essence of Experience – Dragonsquill (T, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley have loved each other almost since the beginning, but have been very careful to not put a name to it. The yearning is real and so gorgeous. The scene just before they come up with their plan to avert Armageddon haunts me.)

10. The Arrangement – @writeonclara (T, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley try to get a handle on this sex thing. Non-explicit, hilarious, and unique! I can only assume the rating will probably be going up, which makes me sad because it’s hard to find nonexplicit fics that still deal with what sex brings to a relationship, but what’s written for now is well worth it.)

11. And After – @randomacts13 (T, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale work through their self-worth and have lots of flashbacks. The first one involves Crowley taking care of a seed that keeps dying and leaving another seed behind, which is not at all feeding into his self-hatred; the second has Crowley and Warlock gluing coins to the sidewalk; the third is about Aziraphale on a one-way flight to Complete Mental Breakdown if he doesn’t get some help for his anxiety and repressed emotions soon.)

12. The road to rapture has a lot of pit stops – emmagrant01 (E but only for the sixth chapter, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley have shared five kisses throughout history and one where they meant it. People like me who don’t like explicit material can skip Chapter 6 (or just read until they smooch) and go straight to the epilogue. The rest of it is amazing; every kiss is believable in context and has such good lead-up. Very romantic, very good.)

13. Round and Round the Garden – SanSanFanFan (G, the one where Brother Francis and Nanny Ashtoreth get up to some hanky-panky beneath a willow tree while Warlock sleeps in his pram. Just sweet and silly fluff.)

14. Flecks of Light and Dark – volunteerfd (T, the one where Aziraphale learns to deal with his emotions. Has a really beautiful recurring thing of Crowley and Aziraphale making up stories of who they’d be if they were human, and Aziraphale doing his best to do good and help even when Heaven ties his hands.)

15. Before the Water Rises – VitreousHumor (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale become friends while helping a village make rafts to escape the Flood. Has a lot of really cute moments and some pretty exquisite romantic tension.)

16. Beneath the Stars – @brooklynbabybucky (G, the one where Crowley asks Aziraphale to cut his hair. Just has some really lovely imagery and a sweet bonding moment.)

17. lit in the darkness – @toedenandbackagain (M, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale share a bed sometimes throughout history. Warnings for some sexual content in chapters 7 and 14, but each chapter has its own warnings in the description. Presents some beautiful bonding moments and the absolute finest pining known to man.)

 SOUTH DOWNS

18. The Play’s the Thing – volunteerfd (G, the one where Aziraphale is cast in the local production of Hamlet and Crowley is trying his best to be supportive of his truly awful actor husband. Hilarious and light and absolutely a classic.)

19. Parsley, Thyme, Sage, Daffodils – @mostweakhamlets (NR, the one where Aziraphale has a cooking YouTube channel and Crowley is camera-shy. Tackles PTSD in a really thoughtful way and is Peak Soft Cottage Husbands aesthetic, it really packs in the most warm fuzzies in a small package.)

20. to carthage then i came – @lvslie (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale move to the South Downs and learn to work through their issues around being together and being their own people after cutting ties with Heaven and Hell. Poetic, poignant, the last chapter is a thing of absolute beauty. Very heavily symbolic, that one.)

21. A Better Place for Us to Be – @befuddledmackem (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale tour a particular cottage. Deeply emotional, the Absolute Best Real Estate Pr0n if you also secretly watch HGTV and weep, has completely ruined any future house-buying opportunity I might have because nothing will be this sweet and perfect.)

22. Something We Were Withholding Made Us Weak – trieduntrue (M, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale move to the South Downs and very carefully orbit into something more like a relationship. Exquisite tension, beautifully-done pining and slow-burn, really fun bits of world building. M is for a sex scene at the very end but it’s easy to skip over, it’s small.)

23. reasons wretched and divine – @stammiviktor (T, the one where Crowley storms out after a fight and finds himself in an actual conversation with God. Highly emotional and a great look into Crowley’s head, both in how he feels about God and how he feels about Aziraphale.)

24. The Sprawl of Life – @dietraumerei (T and G, the series where Crowley and Aziraphale settle into village life quite well. Has sex-positive asexual characters, which is fun (brief note about that: it’s not explicit, but the places it happens, there is clear leadup and it can get a bit intense, so take care of yourselves). Has touches of angst that balance beautifully with the fluff, lots of BAMF Aziraphale for the soul.)

25. Seashells and Fingerpainting – Vagabond (@waffleironbiddingwar) (T, and I recommend this one specifically from the series, can be read independently: the one where Gabriel is sent to the South Downs for a time out. This is quite possibly the best Gabriel character study I have ever seen; it’s tender and heartbreaking and somehow you find yourself rooting for Gabriel to figure out why he’s being punished despite yourself. All the warm fuzzies. All of them. Read the whole series, it’s great!)

 POST-APOCALYPSE

26. Laugh When It Sinks In – @tenoko1 (G, the one where Crowley helps Aziraphale build a home in the bookshop flat. Another one that feeds right into my interior decorating itch. So sweet and uplifting, will absolutely make you feel proud of Aziraphale.)

27. Chosen and Unchosen – Bookwormgal (T, the one where the kids have to go save Aziraphale and Crowley from Heaven and Hell. Has some EXCELLENT Warlock characterization and some really good tension between him and Adam, and the angst is properly upsetting. A right good adventure romp that’s really starting to ramp up.)

28. Resonance – Macx (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale become something Else. Good world building, beautiful romance, and Gabriel getting told off. Love how Crowley and Aziraphale growing into their new roles is handled, and how Adam unexpectedly ties in at the end.)

29. Falling Heavenward – @kanna-ophelia (T, the one where Crowley unexpectedly has to win his angel back because of a really twisty deal with Heaven. This one is a pretty wild ride, but I would say the centerpiece is Fallen Gabriel, who becomes Asmodeus. It becomes a battle for Aziraphale’s heart, though Asmodeus isn’t in it for the feels so much as the revenge, obviously. Really interesting premise and something to read if rooting for Crowley is a way you like to spend your time.)

30. A Leisurely Stroll Down – Saturniidae (@Saturniiddae) (M, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale have to fight for their relationship. Has some sexual content that isn’t explicit, and gore that really sort of is. I have thrown things and cried a little at this one, but that was the price for reading while it was still updating. Absolutely gorgeous in every way. Also has God speaking through a household object and it’s hilarious.)

31. From God’s Perspective – Unfortunately (T, the one where God comes down personally to interfere in Her children’s business. The absolute best portrayal of God in any fic ever, really humanizes her in the best ways. I love how she interacts with her angel and demon children. It’s almost more of a character study of God than anything. And yes, the Sound of Music is sung.)

 BUS RIDE/NIGHT BEFORE/HEAVEN AND HELL

32. Worth Knowing – summersage (T, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley discuss the Fall and manage Miltonian angel sex despite it. Has a take on how the Fall works that I was thinking about but couldn’t find words for until this fic, and it’s absolutely fantastic. The Miltonian angel sex is esoteric and weird and not at all erotic, but it is beautiful. The mortifying ordeal of being KNOWN indeed.)

33. Legendary Lovers; Your Hand in Mine – @tenoko1 (G, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale regroup in a hotel instead of his flat and have a bit of a knock-down-drag-out. Crowley is angry and scared and so in love he can’t stand it, and Aziraphale is practically going at light speed in confronting and knocking down his own barriers, and it’s highly emotionally charged and wonderful.)

 AU/UA

34. Love of My Life – @ellewrites4 (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale get together very early and make it work all throughout history. Gorgeous romance, and the fallout from the Holy Water caper and the bandstand breakup are EXQUISITE. Peak emotional turmoil, sweet boundary negotiation, forgiveness and love and anxiety and fear—just delicious.)

35. True Love and High Adventure – @grifalinas (T, the one that’s a Princess Bride au. Absolutely on-point casting, wonderful writing style, the perfect escape fic for a little while. Incomplete but still worth the read.)

36. Inverse Omens – @amuseoffyre (T, the one where Aziraphale is a demon with a p0_rn shop and Crowley is an angel running a community center from a bombed-out church. Y’all recommended this to me on my demon!Aziraphale rating post, and it’s AMAZING. Perfect characterization and a wonderful retelling. Warning for Chapters 11 and 12, Aziraphale’s Nanny Ashtoreth messes with the Dowling parents in far more direct ways and there’s scenes of Mr. Dowling jerking it, so take care, friendos. Also Aziraphale makes the filthiest double entendres and it’s delightful. Also also Crowley needs all the hugs.)

37. A Blaze of Light – @wingedspirit (T, the one where Crowley is Raphael and he and Aziraphale make a Pact instead of an Arrangement. This one is a wild adventure, friends, and a riveting one. The Pact puts an interesting spin on their developing relationship, and by the time it gets to TV canon, it’s already off the rails in the best ways. Also Crowley has some pretty heavy depression that manifests in his former Archangel-level powers blowing up a bit, which is cool. Should be wrapping up soon and I’m pumped for it!)

38. it’s high time that you love me, cause you do it so well – mygalfriday (T, the one where Crowley can’t physically say the word “love” but can diddly dang well show it if he wants. Already super sweet but the confession scene at the end is just incredible.)

39. Hold the Line – sum_nemo (T, the one that’s a Pacific Rim AU. I adore PacRim, you guys, and this one is just *chef’s kiss*. Puts Crowley as Raleigh (lost his twin sister copilot) and Aziraphale as Mako and includes a pretty painful shared past between them, which is already simmering and delicious. Can’t wait to see where this one goes.)

40. The Truth Remains – @wanderingalicewrites (NR, the one where Crowley was Raphael, had a good relationship with his siblings, was in love with Aziraphale, and knew he was destined to Fall. Aziraphale is still in mourning for Raphael and Crowley is still working out the point of his existence, so there’s some very good pining and existential dread up in the mix. A highly interesting take on the situation and very, very good at punching you in the feels with the flashbacks to Heaven and how different things are now, especially with the other Archangels. LOL it just updated while I was writing this and I am UNDONE, I am in PAIN, the bandstand scene always hurts but NOT LIKE THIS. ALSO MORE ARCHANGEL FEELS, HOW DID THIS HAPPEN)

41. Everything Dark and Unseen – @enjambament (M, the one that’s a Psyche and Eros retelling. After the Fall but before Eden, Heaven and Hell need a truce, so they marry Crowley and Aziraphale to keep the peace in a symbolic sort of binding. A beautiful romance, an excellent action sequence, the cutest OC creatures, the best OC angels, and I wish there was a continuation of how canon progressed with this monumental change in their history bc I am THIRSTY for more. Rated M for a kinda-sorta sexy scene but there’s not really Efforts sooo…it’s more sensual than sexual? I guess? Either way, highly recommended.)

42. The Name of the Star is Wormwood – LusBeatha (T, the one where Crowley was Raphael and the Fruit of Knowledge of Good and Evil was a fly agaric mushroom. It is exactly as eccentric as it sounds, but presented in such a way that it actually makes sense. It jumps around in time, but the storyline taking place in the present is looking like Armageddon 2.0. Beautifully written, great take on canon.)

43. Sticks and Stones – @justkeeptrekkin (T, the one where Crowley takes on the guise of Casanova while trying to get over Aziraphale and Aziraphale shows up, whoops. GORGEOUS imagery, the most scrumptious pining, and if y’all appreciated the 2005 Pride and Prejudice dance scene, the one in here will about blow that one out of the water, if you can believe it. Knocked the breath right out of me.)

44. Yearning to Hold You Close – @guanin (T, the one where Aziraphale has a relationship with King Richard and asks Crowley to help save him, and there is a big sticky mess of feelings when they realize Richard and Crowley look almost exactly alike. In part inspired by David Tennant playing Richard II. A delicious, delicious emotional quandary where Crowley and Richard both wonder if Aziraphale only loves them because they look like each other, and Aziraphale doesn’t know how to say what he feels. Very sweet, very emotionally fraught.)

 SOFT

45. Just This Once – @julia-writes-fanfic (T, the one where Crowley and Aziraphale kiss in the 90s and it’s amazing. The drunk 90s kiss is already good, but them revisiting it sober in 2010 makes both even better.)

46. A Sky Full of Stars – @kedreeva (G, the one where Aziraphale takes Crowley someplace where they can see the cosmos. The first GOmens fic I ever bookmarked, so I felt like including it, because it’s unbelievably sweet and has amazing visuals.)

47. The Serpent and the Seagull – @ineffably-good (G and T, the series where Aziraphale misses Crowley so he gets a little pet snake. Frederick the snake is among the best of the GOmens OCs, hilarious and foul-mouthed and once Crowley starts being able to understand him, it only gets better. Frederick likes helping his pets work their problems out so they’ll leave him alone to sleep. It’s extremely cute.)

48. The Discerning Black Swan – @lwtis (T, the one where Crowley is definitely not projecting on a black swan desperately trying to court a white mute swan in St James’ Park. I love how Crowley interfaces with his emotional problems through the swan, and the visual of the two swans is gorgeous.)

49. What A Demon Dreams – @whatawriterwields (G, the one where Crowley has some weird dreams, dude. I love the symbolism and the imagery in this one, it’s really vivid. It’s hard to pull off a concept like this so I respect how the author is able to do it and make it work.)

 TOUCH STARVED/WINGS/BODY WORSHIP

50. Sunlight – crorvid (M, the one where Aziraphale is a touch-starved angel. Doesn’t deserve the M rating, in my opinion, but Aziraphale does feel the touching during their makeouts very intensely and it’s incredibly satisfying.)

51. The Curious Attractiveness of Others – @giddygeek (T, the one where Crowley finally gets to groom Aziraphale’s wings and Aziraphale gets to show Crowley how tender that can be. Another one with some great world building tucked into the corners, and emotionally satisfying grooming.)

52. Broken Wings – werebear (@werebeary) (T and M, the series where wing grooming is incredibly intimate and I got the vapors from the tenderness. Also the first time I saw anything about preen glands. The second one is rated M because the preening gets a bit…intense. Not sexual, exactly, but it’s close. Very passionate.)

53. Birthmark – Linebreaker (G, the one where Crowley has a scar on his lower back and a sad story to go with it. This one needs a bit of a harder rating, imo, and there’s one line that’s a bit Much, but otherwise it’s a sad and beautiful look at a potential reason why Crowley hates the fourteenth century so much. Lots of Crowley body worship packed into few words, very satisfying.)

54. They Are A Pale Picture of You – @ineffablefool (T, the one where they go for a walk during winter and things are just Soft. Ineffablefool has a wealth of body-positive asexual GOmens fics, but I think I like this one best, it’s sweet and adorable and some jerk who insults Aziraphale’s weight rightly gets the worst day of his life. Also Crowley compares Aziraphale in his winter wear to a plump little bird and it’s cute imagery.)

 BONUS

55. Ineffable Bureaucracy Drabbles – Shift7 (T, the series of short fics where Gabriel and Beelzebub are kinda-sorta falling into friendship and being very judicious about it. Lots of paperwork, very orderly.)

56. Ineffable Bureaucracy – @eshnoazot (T and G, a series of longer fics where Gabriel and Beelzebub are navigating a careful arrangement of their own. Still lots of paperwork, of course, but there’s also emotional friction and conflict resolution. Excellent characterizations. Wednesday night Thai and Friendship night is a+++++. Gabriel deffo called a board meeting to talk about his feelings.)

57. A Bentley Sang in Berkeley Square – CastielHamilton (G, the one where the Bentley is sentient and a good, good girl. She is doing her best and I love her. Basically the series from her point of view.)

58. Fairest and Fallen – VitreousHumor (T, the series where Beelzebub and Gabriel encounter each other a few times and Gabriel tries his best to remember their shared pre-Fall history. Poignant, sad, and beautiful.)

59. Observer Effect – SquarePudding (T, the series where the Grigori in charge of recording Aziraphale’s Earthly movements starts to ship him and Crowley and records their romance. The Grigori, Rezathaniel, is a precious baby who needs to develop a better palate outside of “greasy literal garbage” and has 0 chill when it comes to their ship. They’re kind of like a celebrity blogger at this point but watching their character growth in the first story is very sweet.)

60. Soul of Vellum, Heart of Chrome – @29-pieces (G, the one where the Bentley and the Bookshop are sentient and very protective of their owners. This one is going to KILL ME with the plot I wasn’t expecting—Heaven and Hell are hunting Aziraphale and Crowley down again, so the Bentley and the Bookshop do their best to help. They’re doing so good and I’m so proud of them, it’s not their fault things went a bit south. Precious beans. Good, good things.)

61. Real Fire and Brimstone Stuff – @jessikast (G, the one where college-age Warlock helps accidentally summon his Nanny and a lot of things start to make sense. A very sweet story about Warlock getting closure and getting back in touch with Crowley and Aziraphale through the weirdest means possible.)

 H/C /WHUMP/BAMF

62. Broken Hallelujah – @atlantis-is-burning (T, the one where Hastur comes to kill Aziraphale and Crowley and it’s ugly, folks. It is kinda gory and it is injury-ridden and painful, very touch-and-go for a bit. It ends well, though, and Hastur gets his, which is the Best. Tore me up one side and down the other in all the best ways.)

63. Fall Here – @marbledwings (T, the one where Aziraphale and Crowley are easing into a relationship in fits and starts, and then Crowley gets snatched. This one was AGONIZING to wait for it to update, so be glad it’s complete, because it gets pretty dark for a while. Be warned of torture, though it’s mostly implied and it’s the aftermath that’s dealt with most. It absolutely sticks the landing at the end, and has a great characterization of Michael.)

64. how deep the sand – Handful_of_Silence (G, the series where Aziraphale is trapped in a glass bubble in a wizard’s basement for fifty years and the ensuing aftermath. Feels mostly book-verse, but there are some cues from the show. Intense and realistic and emotional and heavy, drags you through the darkness and you appreciate the light all the more for it. A beautiful story.)

65. you taught me how to love, (it’s me who taught you how to stop) – @clankclunk (G, or the one where Aziraphale comes to find out that you can’t just rush into a relationship after six thousand years of repression. This one is absolutely murdering me. The angst is real. The hurt is real. I’m hoping the fluff and comfort promised in the tags is coming soon because WOW. Has a fantastically haunting view of what happens to angels, who are highly emotive beings, when they fall into depression. And Crowley’s adverse reactions to praise and love are so realistic and painful. Ouch.)

#good omens #good omens fic recs #mega gomens fic rec list #guys i'm so tired but it's so worth it #i love all of these #can't wait to rec more later

[ravenfirelair]

Long review of my thoughts on wizards. *spoilers*

so yeah, I finally finished the final series in the tales of arcadia series: wizards and oh boy, was it a lot to take in. while overall it was good, but there some problems here and there. first, for the most part it did feel rushed, I really feels like content that could have been made for 2 seasons was squashed down into one. Why they even didn’t bother with a second season is beyond me. At times there was so much going on it was hard to keep up with it all. I did like douxie as the main character, I’m glad this series focused more on him to flesh out his character more. 

With morgana it feels like she switches sides to drastically too much, she goes from magic is good, we must protect all magical creatures to destroy all humans to I need to save my brother king arthur too much. Plus it was weird that when the arcane order pulled her out of the shadow realm she didn’t want to fight anymore and just wanted to be at peace. You would think she would be more hellbent on revenge after the ending of trollhunters. As for steve, at first I was excited to see him in the poster to see what he does in the show, and I honesty a was a bit disappointed, he doesn't do that much at all besides get in the way and be annoying and he is just kind of there without serving much of a purpose. Usually his annoyingness was toned down in trollhunters and 3 below, but in wizards it was upped to 100 percent and it gets really cringe worthy at points. In all honesty I would of liked it better if toby was the one that fell through into the time travel portal with douxie and the others, it would of served better narrative to the story to have the original trio back together and toby would have been a less useless character. Plus I feel toby and jim’s relationship has gotten servery sidelined since claire came more into the picture.

I liked the idea of hex tech, a secret society of wizards secretly working as tech repair people, i wished that idea was explored more in the series and to know exactly how many people are secretly wizards in arcadia. I liked this series portrayal of the lady of the lake, certainly different from what you would expect. I really liked the dragon character as well, I hope to see more of him in the movie. I was kind of disappointed only one 3 below character showed up in this and was not involved more in the story and it was not the big crossover we were hoping would happen in the series, but then again there is the movie going out, so maybe the big crossover is saved for then. And yeah, that means no tronos in this, which is disappointing, but not surprising, but a lot of other people’s favorites characters only got small cameos or didn’t show up at all. so I feel like I was not the only who got shafted, but then again like I said, movie coming on the way so maybe all the characters we missed in wizards will show up there. I think the show was certainly bold to kill off both king arthur and merlin in the short time frame of the series. Killing off mostly important characters seems to be a theme in this series.  I did like how the show gave a little bit backstory on Arrrgh and blinky, how arrrgh became good and became friends with blinky, that was nice.

This series had me really conflicted on merlin, he is still very much an ass throughout the series, but this series did show some really good moments of him too, like how he really cares for douxie and wants him to succeed at being a powerful wizard and in the end was willing to sacrifice his life for his apprentice.  And that merlin and douxie did have a good relationship, even if merlin was a strict grumpy old cunt sometimes. I know it doesn't excuse him for the horrible shit he did to jim and the bad decisions he has made, but still it did show that merlin did had a heart. Another thing I’m really conflicted about is jim turning back into a normal human at the end, on one hand yes, I’m glad jim can finally go back to his normal life, but on the other hand it made the tough decision merlin placed on him seem to have less impact and all the stuff merlin said about the change being permanent kind of meaningless. And yeah, I felt the magical tear from claire was kind of cliché. But then again it’s a kids show and most kid shows can’t get away with sad endings. Overall, I thought the series was pretty good, didn’t really reach all my expectations, but I thought it did good enough job to further wrap up the story.

I did feel the ending of the series left a lot of unanswered questions, like who are this arcane order and what to they want? I want to know more about the genesis seals and how they are used to destroy the world? How does jim and the others continue that fight without the amulet? Without the amulet, does that mean there will be no more trollhunters? Why couldn’t jim pull Excalibur out of the stone? Did the other trolls ever reach their new home in new jersey? Will the rest of the characters really show up in the final movie? Hopefully all these questions will get answered in the final movie coming out.

#wizards #trollhunters #3below #tales of arcadia #toafandom #toaseriesreview #tvseriesreview #finalreview

[drkfought]

    ─         the  mirrors  surrounding  you  did  as  they  were  meant  to ,  reflecting  back  a  spitting  image  of  colin  morgan    -    but  it’s  clear  something  is  wrong  from  the  moment  that  a  vision  of  𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨  𝘧𝘰𝘳  𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘳  strikes  you .    perhaps  it  was  a  passing  daydream  in  the  frenzy  of  the  funhouse .    you  reassure  yourself    -    you’re  𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐍 ,   a  𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺  𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵  year  old  𝗣𝗛𝗬𝗦𝗜𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗡  whose  virtue  lies  in  your   + cunningness   &   + loyalty ,  although  you’ve  been  told  that  you  tend  to  be  quite   - elusive   &  - deceitful ,  and you’re associated with  𝒎𝒐𝒍𝒕𝒆𝒏  𝒈𝒐𝒍𝒅  𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈  𝒃𝒆𝒉𝒊𝒏𝒅  𝒄𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒓  𝒆𝒚𝒆𝒔 ,   𝒂  𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒇𝒖𝒍  𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆  𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒅  𝒕𝒐  𝒂𝒏  𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕  𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍 ,  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒆𝒔𝒕  𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒘  𝒄𝒂𝒔𝒕  𝒃𝒚  𝒕𝒉𝒆  𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒕  𝒐𝒇  𝒍𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 ,  by  those  around  you .    suddenly,  however,  you’ve found  𝐀  𝐑𝐄𝐃  𝐍𝐄𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅  on  your  person    -    was  that  always  there ?     from  the  moment  you  leave  the  funhouse ,  memories  from  your  life  in  𝙗𝙗𝙘'𝙨  𝙢𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙣   have  begun  to  return   -   leaving  whoever  you  had  been  before  in  the  mirror’s  reflection  behind  you .    you  can  almost  hear  𝚆𝙷𝙸𝚃𝙴  𝙻𝙸𝙴   by  𝚃𝙷𝙴  𝙻𝚄𝙼𝙸𝙽𝙴𝙴𝚁𝚂  following  in  your  wake .

it’s  basically  tradition  for  me  at  this  point  to  pick  up  merlin  anywhere  i  go .    that’s  my  comfort  character  your  honor .    i’m  picky  with  how  i  play  him   &   hope  you  like  him  but  i  truly  love  him  so  much .

full name :     merlin  ambrosius  wyllt . alises :   emrys .   dragoon  the  great .   magic  itself .   prince  of  enchanters . age :   twenty  eight . gender & pronouns :   non  binary ,  he / they . sexual & romantic orientation :    pansexual / panromantic . species :   sorcerer / magic  personified . identifying  marks :    tba .

     ─        𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍  𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 .

born  on  in  the  village  of  ealdor  to  a  simple  farm  maiden ,  merlin  seemed  quite  unimportant  to  most  anyone .   his  mother ,  however ,  knew  differently  when ,  behind  closed  doors ,  her  son  was  magically  moving  objects  since  before  he  could  walk .     knowing  that  her  son’s  abilities  would  mean  a  death  sentence  over  his  head  ever  since  king  uther  declared  magic  illegal  in  the  great  purge ,  merlin’s  mother  was  sure  to  keep  his  abilities  hidden  from  anyone .    however ,  she  knew  his  skill   &   life  was  always  meant  for  more  than  ealdor .   when  he  was  eighteen  she  helped  him  pack  his  things   &   sent  him  away  to  camelot  to  live  with  an  old  friend :  gaius ,  the  court  physician .

once  in  camelot ,  merlin  found  himself  thrust  into  his  own  destiny  when  following  the  call  of  a  strange  voice  led  him  to  a  dragon  imprisoned  below  the  castle .   the  dragon ,  kilgharrah ,  informed  merlin  of  how  he  was  to  protect  the  young  prince  arthur  to  becoming  king  &  uniting  the  lands  of  albion .    though  merlin  initially  refused ,  having  been  throughly  unimpressed  with  what  he  knew  of  arthur ,  fate  had  other  plans .     after  stopping  an  assasination  attempt  on  arthur  during  a  feast  later ,  merlin  is  given  work  in  the  castle  as  a  reward  &  is  named  arthur’s  personal  manservent .     the  both  of  them  are  displeased  with  the  situation  at  first ,  but  as  years  pass  they  form  an  unlikely   &   inseparable  friendship .

though  unable  to tell  arthur  about  his  magic ,  seeing  as  arthur’s  view  of  it  had  been  tainted  by  his  father  uther ,  merlin  still  committed  to  his  destiny   &   secretly  protected  arthur  from  the  shadows  from  any  threat .   though  decisions  were  often  tough ,  merlin  did  the  best  he  could   &   eventually  arthur  did  take  the  throne  as  king .   it  seemed ,  almost ,  like  everything  was  going  as  it  was  supposed  to .   all  up  until  a  fateful  night  at  the  battle  of  camlann .   though  merlin  was  able  to  drive  back  the  opposing  forces   &   even  defeat  morgana ,  arthur’s  traitorous  half  sister ,  arthur  still  became  mortally  wounded  in  the  battle .    merlin  confessed  to  his  magic  to  arthur   &   gained  the  king’s  forgiveness  but  still  was  unable  to  save  his  life .   arthur  died  in  merlin’s  arms .    &   as  merlin  was  being  told  that  arthur  would  return  again  one  day  when  albion’s  need  was  greatest ,  it  came  to  his  realization  that  this  failure  was  exactly  what  his  destiny  was  leading  up  to .   he  simply  was  never  told  the  end .  

over  a  thousand  years  have  passed  after  arthur’s  death .    the  king  has  yet  to  return .   but  merlin ,  bound  by  destiny ,  still  waits  for  him .

    ─        𝐀𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐃  𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 .

merlin  is  an  only  child .   his  father  was  never  in  the  picture ,  left  before  his  mother  even  knew  she  was  pregnant ,  but  with  how  doting  his  mother  has  always  been  this  fact  hasn’t  bothered  him  very  much .    after  all ,  his  mother  was  never  entirely  alone .    she  had  a  close  family  friend  who  helped  raise  him   &   there  was  also  his  aunt   &   his  younger  cousin ,  simon .     he  never  felt  himself  to  be  a  lonely  child  by  any  means .    

he  grew  up  in  a  small  town  in  wales   &   was  fairly  well  liked .   people ,  if  anything ,  were  amused  by  how  mischievous  he  could  be .   he  was  a  trouble  maker  without  even  trying  much .     he  got  into  odd  fights  against  a  handful  of  bullies  but  he  knew  how  to  dodge  the  right  way  to  wear  them  out  most  of  the  time .    he  seemed  quite  very  unassuming ,  with  high  cheekbones   &   ears  too  big  for  his  head ,  but  merlin  had  always  been  quite  surprisingly  crafty .

he  went  to  school  in  america  for  medicine ,  something  that  his  mother’s  family  friend  had  always  brought  him  interested  in ,  &  came  out  with  good  or ,  at  least ,  average  grades  without  much  effort .    had  his  PhD  by  twenty  six    &   has  now  lived  in  alucard  for  two  years  working  as  a  general  physician .

   ─        𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑  𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 .

important  note  on  how  i  play  merlin :   he  is  not  just  “ the  greatest  sorcerer  to  ever  walk  the  earth ”    he  is  also  literally  magic  personified .   “ magic  itself ” ,   as  he’s  called  in  canon .    magic  put  into  a  human  form .    his  magic  is  extremely  powerful  with  very  few  limitations .

anyway .   he’s  goofy  a  lot ,  enough  that  he’s  rarely  taken  seriously ,  but  it’s  a  good  facade  for  him  because  he’s  also  almost  always  lying  when  he  can  be .    it  comes  like  a  second  nature  to  him .    most  don’t  think  much  of  him  because  he’s  pretty  unassuming  but  some  are  astoundingly  interested  by  him .   no  in  between .

remembers  waiting  for  arthur  for  fifteen  hundred  years .   is  a  little  bitter   &   pessimistic  because  of  this .

gets  moody  bc  he  failed  arthur  :/  

the  most  suspicious  bitch .   dude  trusts  almost  no  one .

has  a  slight  gambling  issue .   cheats  often .  counts  cards .

ill  add  more  later  as  i  think  of  it .

#merlin: intro #duality.intro

[dc-x-readers]

Arthur’s Future (Arthur Curry x Reader)

I quick fluffy piece fo Arthur Curry, because I love this man all too much! Hope ya’ll enjoy

You and Arthur were lying in bed, your legs entangled, holding each others hands. It had been a nice night, dinner, a trip to the beach which ended in a skinny dip, a round of hot rough sex. It had been perfect, and now you both lay in a post-cotial high just thinking and absorbing the quiet.

You both lay on your back, both silent, lost in your own thoughts. Ideas came and went through your mind.

“Do you ever think about the future?” You asked into the darkness, you weren’t sure why you were thinking about it, but it crossed your mind lazily and you figured you share your thoughts.

Arthur didn’t turn to look at you, his gaze remained on the ceiling, but he smiled his beautiful smile, “Course I do, all the time.”

You nodded, and for a moment you wondered if he would expand on what he was saying. Tell you about the future he planned. You hoped so, because you wanted to know if you were a part in it. If he saw this relationship, which was a strong eight months in, as something more long term.

Of course Arthur didn’t leave you to ponder to long, he starting talking again, “My future is perfect. I have a beautiful family, a wife who I adore more than the world, a couple of kids running around. I want three, the older two will be boys and the youngest is a little girl-”

“You can’t chose the gender of your babies.” You interrupted laughing a little.

“It’s my future, I can chose the gender of my babies if I want.” Arthur laughed, he squeezed your hand in the darkness, “Where was I? Oh right, three kids, two dogs, they should really be golden retrievers, they are really good family dogs. I think we should live along the ocean, so I can attend to my duties down in Atlantis but still make it home every night to be with you and the kids.”

You flipped to your side, absently running your finger over his chest, drawing imaginary patterns. He really did think about the future, had it all planned out, and he saw you there, every step of the way. It made you want to choke up, because you were scared. He is the king of Atlantis, you always worried that his role below the surface would overshadow his love for you. You worried that he would go down below the surface to a place where you couldn’t follow.

Arthur didn’t notice your thoughts, because he continued on, “My brother will come up for family birthdays, and he will pretend to be annoyed by the kids, but he will secretly love everything about them. He will probably bring the most pimped out gifts just to one-up me. And Mera, she will be like an aunt to the kids, she will protect them with her life, and she will probably take them to do things that we don’t approve of, because she’s the fun aunt you know?”

You smiled thinking about that future, with a big happy family. It was right up Arthur’s alley to want all that, even though he pretends to be steeley and tough.

“Hmm… sounds like you have it all planned out.” You murmured, “Have you got names for the kids and the dogs?”

Arthur laughed, his chest rumbling as he did, “Of course not, we need to work on that together.”

Together.

You liked that word, together.

The future seemed to be much brighter with the word together in it. And you smiled in the darkness before slipping off to sleep, dreaming of Arthur’s ideal future.

#Arthur Curry #arthur curry x reader #arthur curry imagine #aquaman imagine #aqua man x reader #aquaman x reader #aqua man imagine #DC comics #DC comcis #dc comic imagine #dc comics x reader #dc cinematic universe #dc comics reader insert

[is-this-a-skam-account]

“King of Los Angeles”

People go to Los Angeles for a good time. People move to Los Angeles in search of stardom. But no one is from Los Angeles, unless you’re Lucas Lallemant.

These are the three main principles of the city every person there understands. You must also understand, if you move to Los Angeles, that the city is practically run by LLuv, the night club owned by none other than Lucas Lallemant himself. He is somewhat of a mystery around the city. Some people believe that he actually exist, and some people believe he is just a tale of a guy created by a gang to run LLuv. Stories spread like rapid fire about Lallemant, of things that he may or may not have done. Some say he bought the Elephant Man’s Bones, others say he sold his soul to the devil for his wealth. However, there is one consensus among all versions of Lucas Lallemant: that he can get whomever wherever and whenever he wants.

If you ever get the opportunity to walk into LLuv you have a one in a hundred chance to run into Lucas Lallemant. At least that’s what tales say. Or maybe you will catch a glimpse of his face from across the room, and if you’re lucky enough those blue eyes might even lock onto yours.

But for all of Lucas’s friends, half that stuff being spread around is complete bullshit. Sure, Lucas does enjoy a good one night stand every week or so. Well, okay, really like every other night. But they also know that Lucas can be super down to Earth (when he wants to be) and even though he likes to fool around, he secretly thinks about settling down (Lucas thinks he is smart enough to hide his secret longings from his friends, but they can see through him).

When Lucas isn’t at the club, he’s with his friends lying out on the beach, getting coffee, hanging with his friends in their shared flat (he would be too lonely living by himself), or he is too busy being helplessly in love with the owner of a small florist shop along the water.

“Jesus Christ, just go talk to him, Lucas!” Yann whines at Lucas one day as they are walking along the beach and he catches Lucas sneaking a glance inside the small shop.

“Wha-! I wasn’t…” Lucas looks between Arthur and Basile, hoping for them to back him up, but they stare at him with the same look as Yann, “I wasn’t staring at him. I was...admiring from afar.” Lucas finishes and proceeds to stuff his face with ice cream.

“Wow, you are so in denial,” Arthur laughs, “you’re even more in denial than Basile when he still thinks he has a chance with Daphne.”

“Hey!” Basile exclaims.

Arthur rolls his eyes, “oh, please, she’s the bars top bartender, and you think you actually have a shot?”

Lucas laughs at his friends shenanigans. He really appreciates chill days like these, when he can live just a normal twenty-four-year-olds life. He actually enjoys eating crap-tastic frozen yogurt because all the girls who live in Los Angeles are too worried about every calorie that goes into their body.

“But, seriously, Lucas. Just like, I don’t know, invite him to the bar or something,” Yann says with a shrug.

Lucas laughs, “yeah, right. Do you remember the last time I tried to talk to him? I tried saying one long-stemmed red rose, and it came out ‘one pong-stimmed reed…’ I couldn’t even finish the order I was too embarrassed! I just burst into flames and got the hell out of there. And yet you expect me to invite him to LLuv?”

“And yet you have no trouble hitting on guys when they are at the club, huh. I mean, seriously, you are sort of a slut in there, Lucas-”

Arthur hits Basile in the chest, cutting him off, “I think what Basile is trying to say was that you have a lot of, um, confidence when you’re in the bar and yet you just lose all of it when you talk to that guy?”

“Well, yeah, but that’s only because I know the guys in LLuv actually have an interest in me! I can read their body language and the look in their eyes is always the same, but with him,” Lucas nods his head in the direction of the store, “I don’t know. Whenever he looks at me it’s like my skin tingles and I forget English.”

Yann huffs and suddenly he is pulling Lucas by the arm back towards the shop, “that’s it, I’m talking for you.”

Lucas can smell the flower shop before he sees it, the welcoming smell calms Lucas only for a moment before Yann flips him around to face the inside of the shop. The front of the shop is completely open, revealing the inside to passer bys. Lucas thought the layout of the shop was really interesting. The multi-colored bins of flowers always catches your eye as you walk past, and the fact that it practically opens up into the street is so inviting you just feel drawn in.

“Excuse us!” Yann yells after a couple seconds of standing there with no one coming to the front desk.

Lucas is about to dash away and out of Yann’s reach when the man he was loathing (and yet wishing) to see emerges somewhere from the back. As his eyes lay on them a smile cracks its way onto his face. “Hey! What can I help you with?” He says and Lucas doesn’t miss the way his eyes check roam up and down his body.

‘You’re so pretty,’ Lucas wants to say, but thankfully his voice has stopped working. He swears this guy gets prettier and prettier every day. His hair is extra ruffled today, like he had just shaken it with his hands, and Lucas wants nothing more than to grip it in his fingers. The way he licks his lips is positively outrageous, and Lucas feels himself getting pulled in closer and closer. It should be illegal to look that good and also work in a flower shop. It’s like a double hit to the heart and eyes. And don’t get Lucas started on those rings. Big and clunky and so, so hot. Lucas wonders what they would feel like pushed against his rim and-

“Hi,” Yann says and rips Lucas out of his thoughts, “I’m Yann and this is Lucas. He wanted to invite you to his night club tonight, you may have heard of it, it goes by the name LLuv.” Lucas doesn’t miss the way the guys eyes widen just slightly. And even though Yann is the one speaking, his eyes stay trained on Lucas, “if we can get your name, we will be more than happy to put you down on the guest list.”

“Oh, sure,” the guy swallows for a second and Lucas tracks the motion, suddenly his own mouth feeling very dry, “uh, it’s Eliott Demaury.”

“Great! Thanks, dude, see you later!” Yann says and excuses them with a wave.

“What the hell was that?!” Lucas yells once they were out of earshot.

“That was me saving your ass,” Yann says.

It’s like any normal Saturday night for LLuv. It’s crowded, people taking shots, people disappearing into the bathrooms together, people dancing and humping each other on the dance floor. Except that it’s not like any normal Saturday night because Lucas is looking for a very specific face among the crowd. Or maybe a tuft of wild hair. Or the shine of very recognizable rings on long fingers.

“Will you calm down?” Arthur yells over the music as he finishes off his drink, “he’s going to show.”

“You don’t know that!” Lucas shoots back, “I mean, what if clubs aren’t his thing? Or what if he thinks that I’m just some young, dumb Los Angeles douchebag?”

“He doesn’t think that, Lucas,” Yann begins, but his attention is immediately taken by a girl who walks by. He licks his lips at her and she cocks her head towards the exit. Lucas rolls his eyes and turns away from his friends.

They obviously won’t be of much help.

Lucas finally decides to descend the stairs from his reserved portion of the club. He sets his drink down on the stairwell as he maneuvers his way past the couples who are vigorously making out. Going into the crowd of dancy-drunk people is a rarity for Lucas, as he doesn’t like to feel sweaty strangers on all sides of him, but he is looking for anything to take his mind off a guy with the initials of ED. Even as the alcohol pumps through his veins and the beat of the music starts to match the beat of his heart, images of a flower shop flash across his mind. He still only sees Eliott standing there, a golden smile on his face. He vividly sees the veins that curve around Eliott’s arms, and the lean muscles underneath.

Lucas feels strong hands grab his waist, and he is pulled back towards a broad chest. He doesn’t fight the motion and the guys hands help them move to the pulse of the music. They sway their hips, and Lucas even backs up further into the guys touch. Lucas wraps his left arm around the guys neck, and lays his other hand over the firm grip on his waist. He nearly moans when he feels a set of teeth nip at the skin on his neck. Damn, this guy wasn’t holding back. He shivers when the guy lets one of his hands roam up the front of Lucas’s shirt, exploring and mapping out the skin there.

Lucas spins himself around when the song changes. He is about to lean up and kiss the guy when he freezes in his movement. “Eliott?” he asks breathlessly. Well, really he wasn’t asking if it was Eliott, because he would recognize those eyes anywhere (even if half his face is covered by a mask).

Lucas can practically see the grin forming on his lips. Eliott pulls away the mask, and, yup, he’s grinning. “Hey, Lucas.”

“Um, I-” Lucas doesn’t know what to say.

Eliott laughs, which is barely audible above the blaring music, “I know, I’m so breathtaking you’re at a loss for words.”

Lucas shakes his head and snaps himself out of his daze, “no, sorry, I just wasn’t expecting you to come.”

“What? And miss the chance to dance and hang out with a guy as cute as you? Never.” Eliott says, answering his own question and squeezing Lucas’s hips as he does so.

Lucas blushes, which he hopes isn’t visible in the low lights, but his hopes are crushed when one of Eliott’s hands comes up and wipes at the apple of his cheek. And damn the metal of his rings feel even better than what Lucas could have ever imagined, “you’re extra cute when you blush,” Eliott mutters.

Lucas doesn’t think he can hold back anymore so he stands on his toes, closing the gap between them. He feels Eliott stiffen, and for a second he thinks he made a big mistake, but then they both melt into it. At first it is just a few kisses with lips closed, it’s new and exciting and it’s all about the exploration. But then Eliott’s tongue swipes against Lucas’s bottom lip, and Lucas is so gone for this boy he immediately opens up. Eliott’s right hand comes up and he wraps his fingers in Lucas’s hair, pulling just enough to elicit a moan from the shorter boy. The other hand presses against Lucas’s lower back pushing them closer, closer.

Lucas is unraveling. His mind feels like it’s in molasses, and all his movements feel like they are underwater. But his skin feels electric. All his nerve endings are alive and pointing towards Eliott, like sunflowers pointed towards the sun. Lucas just needs, he needs to keep kissing Eliott, or he thinks he might actually die.

But then Eliott pulls away briefly, “I don’t do relationships,” Eliott mutters against his lips.

Lucas bites his lip for a second, trying to think of a way to respond that wouldn’t crush his own heart but also get Eliott’s lips on his as soon as possible, “yeah, yeah, me neither,” Lucas manages. He immediately regrets his choice, and he can practically hear his heart breaking, but those beautifully sculpted lips on his right afterwards to ease the pain for even just a second.

The Uber ride back to Lucas’s flat is full of light touches. Eliott sliding his leg closer to Lucas’s so that their knees brush. Or Lucas’s hand being placed high up on Eliott’s thigh. Or Lucas brushing their shoulders together to grab Eliott’s attention before running his tongue over his bottom lip.

Lucas can tell that Eliott is absolutely gone for him as well. At least for tonight he is, Lucas doesn’t know what tomorrow will bring. But as soon as they are in the elevator, Eliott has him pinned against the wall. Mouths making out messily with teeth and tongue. They rub together and Lucas moans at the slight friction supplied from his jeans. Lucas can’t help but wonder ‘where have you been all my life?’ when Eliott sucks on his neck, leaving what Lucas knows will be a good-sized hickey by tomorrow morning.

They stumble through the hall, making as much noise as a teenager who is absolutely wasted and getting home at two in the morning. They clamor into the apartment after Lucas had fumbled with his keys for a solid two minutes, all because Eliott couldn’t keep his hands off him for one second. It’s Lucas’s turn to pin Eliott against the wall as they enter his apartment. Eliott doesn’t protest, well not verbally because his tongue is too far down Lucas’s throat, but after a few seconds he flips them around. He steps closer to Lucas, pressing a thigh in between Lucas’s legs and slides. Lucas doesn’t hold back the deep-rooted moan that slips from his mouth, and Eliott doesn’t waste a second in sealing that moan between their lips.

Before Lucas even realizes what’s going on, Eliott has his hands on his thighs and hoists him into the air. He instinctively wraps his legs around Eliott’s waist. Lucas trails his hands up underneath Eliott’s shirt, and quickly decides that he just wants it off completely. He discards the shirt somewhere along the hallway leading to his room and is so, so happy to have it out of the way.

“Third door on the left,” Lucas rushes out before Eliott’s lips are on his again.

Eliott follows his directions and takes them into Lucas’s room. He places Lucas down on his bed before turning back around to close the door. Lucas already has his shirt off by the time Eliott looks back over at him. His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at how ethereal Eliott looks in the darkly-lit room. Lucas lets his eyes trail down Eliott’s toned torso, and they catch on a tattoo that reads ‘Life’. Lucas thinks he falls in love with that tattoo as well.

“You are so beautiful, Lucas,” Eliott nearly whispers as he sinks onto the bed atop Lucas.

“I could say the same for you,” Lucas says as he looks at Eliott through his eyelashes.

Before Eliott can protest Lucas flips them over. He straddles Eliott’s waist and grinds down, just once, enough to make the older boy sigh into a moan. Lucas hums and leans down placing a chaste kiss to Eliott’s lips. Then he trails kisses down, down. He pays a little more attention to the tattoo there, nipping at it and kissing it, before he moves along. When he gets to Eliott’s jeans he unbuttons them and unzips them. Lucas pulls them away and immediately takes Eliott into his mouth. Lucas thinks he will forever replay the moan pulled from Eliott’s mouth as he does so. And the way Eliott rolls his head back, exposing the skin of his neck around his adam’s apple sends Lucas’s mind straight out the window.

“Shit, baby,” Eliott nearly hisses and he reaches a hard to grip on Lucas’s hair. Lucas closes his eyes at the feeling of the hand massaging his scalp as he bobs his head. Urging him on. Lucas pushes himself down until his nose is buried in Eliott’s coarse hair, making them both moan. When he pulls away Eliott rushes to connect their lips, even if Lucas’s mouth is salty. “You’re so fucking hot,” Eliott says hurriedly, “now get on all fours.”

Lucas smirks and quirks an eyebrow as he does so. Eliott wastes no time in pulling Lucas’s jeans away, discarding them somewhere in the room. “Lube?” Eliott asks.

“Top drawer,” Lucas says and motions towards the nightstand.

Lucas only hears the sound of the bottle before a finger is being pressed to his entrance. One by one the fingers slide in, and holy shit those rings feel even better than Lucas would have ever thought they could. He’s cussing into a pillow that he holds to his face, because with every thrust of his fingers Eliott manages to hit his prostate again and again. It’s driving him mad. Pretty soon, Lucas thinks, he is just going to be a pile of malleable play-doh.

But then his fingers are out and Lucas is being flipped around. He holds the pillow to his face, knowing full well that his cheeks probably look like tomatoes right about now. But then Eliott’s gruff voice says, “baby, I want to see your face,” and who is Lucas to deny him of that?

As soon as Lucas pulls the pillow away he feels Eliott sliding in. Lucas curses and bites his bottom lip as Eliott mutters encouraging things in his ear, “good boy, you’re doing so good. You feel so tight, Lucas. Beautiful.” Those words alone already have Lucas on the brink of coming.

Once Lucas feels them flush against each other, there is only about a two second pause before Eliott starts moving. At first it’s slow and steamy. It takes Eliott only a few thrusts to find Lucas’s prostate, but once he does Lucas is completely gone. Lucas has left the building. He doesn’t even register how loud he is being until Eliott whispers next to his ear, “you have the prettiest fucking voice ever, Lucas. I want to hear everything.”

Towards the end Eliott’s pace starts getting more erratic, and Lucas is practically pleading for release. Eliott is more than happy to give it to him as he hits his prostate one final time, pushing Lucas over the edge and he follows shortly after.

Eliott collapses on top of Lucas, and they both let their breathing steady out before Eliott pulls out and they go to actually lay down. Lucas turns over on his side and Eliott immediately comes up and spoons Lucas from behind. He practically melts at the loving circles Eliott makes on his skin as they lay together.

“You’re really good,” Lucas says with a laugh after a while.

Eliott hums, “only cause you made me that way. I would be surprised if you have a voice tomorrow with how loud you were moaning.”

Lucas kicks Eliott’s legs with his, “hey, rude. I was trying to compliment you.”

“As was I,” he pauses, “you paid a lot of attention to my tattoo, do you like it that much?”

Lucas shrugs and shifts a little further back into Eliott’s touch, “I think it’s cute. What’s the meaning behind it?”

“It’s just to remind me to take life day by day. To not rush into life with a thought process that could one day destroy me.”

“Take everything minute by minute,” Lucas mutters.

“Exactly, that’s what my mom said to me when I got the tattoo. How did you know?”

Lucas smiles, “because that’s what my mom tells me.”

The next day Lucas wakes up with Eliott’s arms still around him, and he decides to wake Eliott up with a...special treat, which Eliott seemed very pleased with. They washed up together, and Lucas thinks that is the best shower-sex he has ever had. After which they made breakfast. Well, actually Lucas took over making breakfast when Eliott set off the smoke alarms while trying to make something called a ‘PONI.’ They lazed around the apartment that morning and Lucas decided to put on some Netflix to watch one of his favorite comedians. And just a little tip: don’t try making out while watching a comedian because one of you, or both of you, will end of laughing and completely ruin the moment. Eliott said he had Sunday off work, so they decided to venture around the city together. They got some hot dogs and fountain drinks from a truck, walked around the beach (don’t get Lucas started on how cute Eliott was when he helped a little girl make her sand-castle), and they went down to the fair to ride the ferris wheel together. Every place they went Lucas had to remind himself that it’s not a date. It’s not a date.

“Did you move to the city?” Eliott asks when they get towards the top of the ferris wheel.

Lucas shakes his head as he takes a sip of his fountain drink, “no, my parents moved to Los Angeles and decided to raise me here. I never left.”

“Oh, your name sounds really French, I thought you might’ve moved here from France.”

Lucas laughs, “you’re one to talk, Demaury.”

Eliott laughs as well, “well, fair enough, but I did actually move here from France.”

“No way!”

“Yes way,” Eliott smiles, “I still have a hint of an accent, but it’s mostly gone from the few years I’ve lived here.”

“Speak French to me, baby,” Lucas jokes.

Eliott rolls his eyes. He pauses before placing a hand on Lucas’s upper thigh and slowly leaning in. He licks his lips and Lucas forgets how to breathe, “vous êtes si stupide, pourquoi est-ce vous qui a capturé par coeur.”

Lucas frowns at him, “did you just call me stupid?”

Eliott laughs and leans away, “something along those lines, yeah.”

Lucas is all too aware of the hand still resting on his thigh.

Life goes on like normal after that Sunday with Eliott. Well, it does for at least a couple weeks. Lucas spends the weekdays preparing the club and bar, and on weekends it’s packed tight at LLuv. He makes out sloppily with a few guys the first weekend. Guys that, if you squint your eyes in the right lighting, look somewhat like Eliott. It shouldn’t matter to Lucas that Eliott had asked for something casual, because he’s Lucas Lallemant! He’s a playboy who made himself a millionaire by the age of 22! He can get whoever he wants, he doesn’t have to wait for one flower-shop boy to come and kiss him to make him feel better.

Lucas maintains this thought-process the first two weeks, but by the third he’s holed himself away in his room. He debates on whether or not to go down to the flower shop and talk to Eliott, to tell him that he is looking for something more serious for the first time in his life. But he quickly shooes away the idea, knowing that Eliott treated it as more of a one night stand. Yet it still hurts. It hurts because it’s true that Lucas hasn’t really wanted someone in a more serious sense since his crush on Yann. Maybe he shouldn’t have slept with Eliott at all, maybe that’s where he went wrong. But Eliott probably still would have refused seeking a more serious relationship even if they hadn’t slept together.

It’s when Lucas is about to open his third chocolate bar one Saturday night, three weeks after his one night stand with Eliott, that there is a knock at his door.

“Come in,” Lucas says and his voice is hoarse with lack of use.

Yann walks in and he braces himself behind the door, like there is a chance that Lucas could attack him, “hey, how you holding up?” Yann asks once he’s all in the room. He sits at the edge of Lucas’s bed and gives him those stupid pity eyes.

“Nothing much. Did you know that bees don’t have ears?”

That makes Yann smile, “I didn’t ask what you were up to, Lucas.”

“Oh, right,” Lucas sighs, “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem that fine.”

“Jee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean, Lucas!” Yann huffs as he lays down, “you can’t let Eliott get to you. He’s just some guy. But you, Lucas, are special! You’re the one and only Lucas Lallemant.”

“What if I don’t want to be ‘Lucas Lallemant’ though? What if I want to be sad that a guy I’ve been falling in love with for the past few months told me he doesn’t want anything serious? Is that too much to ask? That I just be normal for a change?”

“You have that right, Lucas,” Yann replies, “I’m just saying that...that Eliott doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

Lucas looks at his friend, “I wish he did. Maybe he would actually come back then.”

Yann laughs, “come on, let’s go get some pity-food.”

“Ugh, yes! I need some pity-food right about now, with maybe a little self-loathing on top.”

Yann takes them to their favorite open 24 hours Mexican restaurant. It’s run by a really cranky old guy, but that’s just part of the charm. Lucas gets an enchilada and Yann gets an order of their extreme nachos. How Yann manages to eat that thing while walking is beyond him. They walk for what feels like forever as they weave through the Los Angeles street. Lucas realizes they are headed towards the beach, towards Eliott’s shop, all too late and is about to backtrack when Yann grabs his arm. He’s practically pulling Lucas along, forcing his feet to move by skidding them against the sidewalk.

“Yann, stop! I really don’t want to see him!” Lucas yells.

“How do you even know where I’m taking you?!”

“I know! You’ve been my best friend for years, I think I know you by now! But after today I don’t know if you’re still my best friend!”

Yann rolls his eyes, “you are such a drama queen. We already passed his shop a few streets ago, would you just chill?!”

Lucas looks over his shoulder, squinting his eyes to make out the stores behind them, and to his surprise they did in fact already pass Eliott’s store. Hm. Something still seems fish-y.

“Alright, fine,” Lucas says and yanks his arm away from Yann’s reach, “I’ll keep walking with you...I guess.”

They make their way out onto the dock. It’s something that reminds him of his day with Eliott.

Okay, he seriously needs to get over this guy.

They make it all the way to the end and rest there for a few minutes so they both have a chance to finish their food. He’s missed days like this. Days where he’s just hanging out with his best friend, living cliche Los Angeles, but it’s still nice. He stares out at the water as the sun goes down. It’s like postcard beautiful out today, and Lucas is trying to soak it all in while he can. He closes his eyes and breathes in. He hears people laughing overtop the murmur of the crowd behind him. He likes listening to the soft eb and flow of the water hitting the dock. This was exactly what he needed.

“Thanks, Yann,” Lucas says after a while, eyes still closed. He speaks in just above a whisper, scared that anything louder would break the fragility of the moment.

“I’ll pass on the message to him later,” a voice says.

Lucas’s eyes shoot open, because that is definitely not Yann’s voice. He turns his head so fast he thinks he gets minor whiplash. “Fuck, Eliott, what are you doing here?” Lucas’s voice only cracks once, which he counts as a victory.

“Yann contacted me,” Eliott says, as if that clears everything up.

Lucas frowns, “I’m going to kill that bastard.”

“What, you didn’t want to see me?” Eliott asks as he leans forward on the ledge.

Lucas sighs, “not really, it was hard enough trying to forget what you looked like the first time, now I have to do it all over again!” Lucas says exasperated, and is about to turn around and storm off but Eliott’s hand wraps around his arm.

“Wait, Lucas, I was, I was actually the one who contacted Yann.” Lucas raises an eyebrow at him, signaling him to proceed, “I contacted him because I realize how stupid I was. I-I told you that I’m not one for relationships because I was scared of getting my own heart broken. I fell in love with you the first time I saw you walk by. You didn’t see me, at least I don’t think you did, because you were laughing at something one of your friends said. But I saw you. You were all I saw, actually. But, I know the type of guy you are from the stories I’ve heard of you, and I thought that...I thought that if I was the one who put a barrier between us it would hurt less. But I was so, so wrong.”

“Yeah, you were,” Lucas says bluntly, “everyone thinks they know who I am from the stories. From the tales people tell about me. I don’t want to be that guy that Los Angeles makes me out to be.” Lucas pauses not sure how to proceed, “I was falling in love with you. And it was scary, I will say that, but it was also exhilarating. It was the first time I had really let myself feel that way about someone, and then I let myself have a one night stand with you, because I thought that I would never get another chance. But I just crumbled.” Lucas didn’t notice he was crying until Eliott raises a hand and wipe the tear away.

“I’m sorry, Lucas,” Eliott whispers, “I wish I could turn back time. I wish I could go back however many minutes we lost and just start over. I hope that you can give me a second chance, and if time is what you need I can give that to you. But please make it sooner than later.”

Lucas smiles at that and wraps his hand around Eliott’s wrist, slowly pulling his hand away, “we can restart,” Lucas sniffles and sticks his hand out towards Eliott, “I’m Lucas.”

Eliott smiles and takes Lucas’s hand, “Eliott, and may I just say, you are truly breathtaking.”

“And you are super cheesy.”

“I try my best.”

Lucas laughs, “so, I believe that someone I met owes me at least 40,000 minutes. Do you have that kind of time?”

“For you? Anything.”

#skam france #skam france season 3 #skam #elu #skam eliott #eliott #eliott demaury #lucas #lucas lallament #yann #basile #arthur