krzyktty101

[krzyktty101]

Stony fans, please help me find this fic?

I'm trying to remember story where Steve and Tony are together with a young baby or toddler, and Tony trips and smashes his head into a fireplace mantel while holding the baby?

[krzyktty101]

Arthur: my father was wrong

Arthur: magic is fun when you do it to me

Arthur: *flirty*

Merlin:

Merlin: I've literally killed people -

[krzyktty101]

October 6: (Alt Choice) "Self Care is Important"

(The ladies of the Toasterverse, Making the best choices)

When she’d first seen these shoes, she’d fallen instantly in love.

It was the sort of love tinged with bone-deep certainty, there was no doubt in her mind, in her heart, that these were the most perfect pair of shoes she’d ever seen.  They were sleek and elegant, crafted by a master’s hand and designed by an artist that harbored a touch of madness.  Every curve was perfect, every choice deliberate.

They fit her like they’d been made for her, and she always found herself reaching for them when she needed a little extra confidence, a little extra height to stare down some six foot plus asshole with a smug smile and a misogynistic attitude.  They’d cost a fortune and had made that back for her with interest by letting her stride into a hundred different board rooms and ball rooms and conference rooms with her shoulders back, her head high, and her smile honed to a razor’s edge.

Which was, she knew, a lot to put on a pair of shoes, no matter how pretty they were.  She knew that.  But as her mom used to say, ‘if it works, it’s not stupid.’  So it wasn’t stupid.  The shoes were her favorites and they did help, when she needed them to help.

And right now, she’d rather walk barefoot over hot coals than put them on.

Pepper leaned back in her chair, her aching legs stretched out in front of her.  Her feet burned, and no amount of pain killers had made a dent in the steady ache.  Everything else was numb, but her feet refused to get with the game.

It was late, and she was was tired, and all she had to do was put on her goddamn favorite shoes and go home.

Pepper took a deep breath.  “Right,” she said, her fingers digging into the arms of her chair.  “Come on, Potts.  This day is finally over.  You didn’t cry even once, and we’re sure as hell not going to start now, when it’s all over.”

The phone on her desk chimed.  “Ms. Potts?”

Pepper’s head fell back, her eyes squeezing shut.  She took a slow, deep breath, and pressed her fingers together in front of her.  “Yes,” she said, and she was proud of herself, that sounded almost normal.

“You have a visitor.”

Pepper gave the phone an incredulous look. “I do not,” she said, and that was enough of a threat to force her to her feet.  “I’m sorry, Bambi, but my last appointment was two hours ago, and both you and I need to go home.”  She leaned over to collect her heels, scooping them up by the straps.  “They can come back in the morning, or the next financial quarter, I truly do not care.”

The door to her office opened, and Pepper looked up, warmth washing over her in an instant.  “You-” she said, her voice stern, “do not have an appointment.”

“Check again,” Natasha said as Bambi walked behind her, making gestures towards the door.

“I’m soooooo sorry, Ms. Potts,” Bambi warbled, her pink pantsuit as fresh as it had been first thing this morning.  Not a white hair on her head was out of place, and she tipped her head back, giving Natasha a faux glare through her cat’s eye glasses.  “She barged right in.”  She pressed a hand to her bosom.  “Shall I call security?”

“Oooo, can we?” Natasha asked, boosting herself up to perch on the edge of Pepper’s deck.  “I haven’t had a good work out in a couple of hours.”

“I’ll take it as an extreme compliment that you think that our security staff would pose any sort of workout for you,” Pepper said.  She smiled at Bambi.  “I’ll deal with her.  Please go home.  Paying your overtime is going to bankrupt us at this point.”

Bambi smiled.  “My Paris trip fund thanks you, in any case.”  She pointed a finger at Natasha.  “You.  No trouble from you.”

Natasha smiled back.  “Well, there goes my plans for the evening,” she said, leaning over to brush a gentle kiss over the older lady’s cheek.  “I’ll send you those pictures you asked for.”

“See that you do,” Bambi said, with a firm nod.  “If I don’t have a few good candids of Mr. Stark for the employee banquet, I’ll never be able to show my face in the secretarial pool again.”  She looked at Pepper.  “Please consider taking a day off tomorrow.”

“I couldn’t possibly, it would make my personal assistant’s life hell.”

Bambi sniffed, her chin coming up.  “I think that she knows how to do her job,”  she said.  “Good night, Ms. Potts.”

“Good night, Mrs. Arbogast,” Pepper said, barely getting the words out before the office door was shutting behind her assistant.  She looked at Natasha, her smile melting away.  “What has he done now?”

“Many things, I’m sure, none of which are remotely your problem.”  Natasha hopped down from her desk.  “Come along, we have a presentation for you in the board room.”  She reached out, taking Pepper’s shoes from her. “You have to learn to have a pair of ugly loafers in your desk drawer.”

“THat would be admitting defeat,” Pepper said.  She probably shouldn’t walk through the office barefoot.   But a spy had just stolen her shoes and she was the boss.  Who was going to tell her no?  She fell into step behind Natasha.  “Seriously, why are you here?”

“Because we have the internet, and you’ve had a hell of a day,” Natasha said.  Her eyes tipped in Pepper’s direction.  “How are we doing?”

“I won,” Pepper said, and she could taste blood on those words.

“Fuck right you did,” Natasha said, leading the way down the hallway to a conference room.  She threw the door open and waved Pepper in.

Curious, Pepper looked around the doorframe.  She was somehow not surprised to find half the seats filled.  “How did you people get in here?”

“Told them we were selling Girl Scout cookies at the front desk, and they let us right in,” Anna said.  She leaned back in her chair, her feet crossed on the table in front of her.  “These chairs are great.”

“She’s not wrong.”  Jane was adjusting the height/tilt function on her chair, bouncing in place.  “Look, they have a massage function.”

Maria stared straight ahead, her arms crossed over her chest, her face stony.  “Because board members are soft.”

“We could be soft, too, you know,” Bobbi pointed out.  She was sitting cross legged in her chair, one elbow braced on the arm.  “I would not object.”

“We do not have the budget,” Natasha said, dropping into a chair next to an unfamiliar lady with dark skin and huge, brown eyes.  Natasha gestured at her.  “Pepper, this is Nakia, she’s from the Wakandan delegation and had the misfortune to be in SHIELD science today while the power point was being created.”  She looked at Nakia.  “Nakie, this is Pepper.  She has zero combat skills but that does not in any way make her incapable of killing people who get in her way.”

Nakia laughed, giving Pepper a wide, bright smile.  “So pleased to meet you,” she said, extending one elegant hand.  “I apologize for my presence, I am here purely to provide moral support to Darcy.”

Pepper took her hand, giving it a firm shake.  “I’d say you’re welcome to join this pack of jackals, but that sounds more like a curse than a greeting.”

“I shall take it in the manner it was clearly intended.”

“I appreciate it.”  Pepper took a seat at the head of the table.  Darcy was standing at the far end, dressed in a lab coat and holding a remote for the projector.  Pepper arched an eyebrow at her.  “Power point?”

“Power point,” Darcy confirmed with a firm nod.  She snapped her fingers.  “Dim the lights, please.”  And as the lights went down, she turned on the video screen behind her, revealing a slide that read, ‘Self-Care for the Modern CEO.’  Pepper covered her mouth with one hand to hide her smile.  “Good evening.  Thank you all for joining us here tonight.”

“I wasn’t given a choice,” Maria said, her voice flat.

“And I appreciate that!”  Darcy pointed at her.  “Teamwork.  It makes the dream work.”

Maria stared at her, doing her absolute best to keep a straight face.  “I keep you around as a potential hostage, you know that, right?”

“And as long as it doesn't affect my my 401K, I could not care less,” Darcy told her, and someone started laughing.  Pepper was pretty sure it was Anna.  “Ms. Potts, due to the-”  She paused, and made some finger quotes.  “Troubles today, we are here for some lady support, bonding and self care.”

She raised the remote.  “And as such, we have some options.”  She changed the slide.  “Option 1: The Classique.”  She folded her hands behind her back as text and pictures filled the screen.  “I know a 24 hour Korean Spa less than 30 minutes from here.   

“We can bake in a sauna hot enough to scorch your leg hair off, drink fresh pressed organic juices, and soak in a salt bath until your pores beg for mercy.  Mud pack facials, massages, and if we slip the lady at the front desk a twenty, she’ll get us take out from a hole in the wall that will make you swear off salad for life.”

Pepper grinned.  “Tempting,” she said, in her best executive voice.  “But I’ll be asleep in under ten minutes.”

“Understandable.”  Darcy nodded.  “Option 2.”  She changed the slide.  “The Homegrown.”  She paced up and down at the other end of the table.  “We go back to Stark Tower, we order a pile of pizza, I’ll dump the meatballs I made into a crockpot, and we’ll have a dozen quarts of ice cream brought in.  

“Then we lock ourselves in the theater, have Jarvis put a ‘no boys allowed’ lock on the door, and watch your choice of-”  She clicked the remote.  “One, a 90s Romcom of extremely dubious quality.”

“No,” Bobbi said.

“Complete with drinking game,” Darcy told her.

“Okay, slightly nore acceptable.”

“Two, a movie you had a great deal of affection for as a teenager that you knew wasn’t very good, but you’ve still got a soft spot for,” Darcy said.

“Veto,” Jane said, burying her face in her folded arms.

“ALSO with drinking game,” Darcy told her.

“The answer is still no.”

“Three,” Darcy said, ignoring that, “A Hallmark Holiday Movie.  With appropriate mockery.”

Everyone disliked that.  Pepper ignored the howls of displeasure, trying her best not to laugh.  “Tony would get in somehow.”

“I’d say impossible, but honestly, that is listed under the potential downsides of this particular plan,” Darcy said with a nod.  “Harris promised to distract him, but that will not last long.”

“He’s a good man to attempt it.”  Pepper gestured at the screen.  “Next option.”

“Option 3: The Bachelorette.”  Darcy changed the slide.  “We go to Atlantic City, hit a 24 dessert buffet, buy tacky clothing and become a menace to public safety.”

“Ooooooh, tempting,” Pepper said.  “Tell you what, we can save that for a long weekend, I’ll get us a ludicrously overpriced suite somewhere.”

“Excellent.  All right, then, option 4.”  Darcy flipped the slide.  “Hooters.”

“HOOTERS HOOTERS HOOTERS,” Anna chanted, pumping a fist over her head.

“What is a Hooters?” Nakia asked Natasha.

“Terrible American restaurant chain where they make the waitresses wear very revealing outfits mostly patronized by men who like sports, mediocre chicken wings, and breasts,” Natasha told her.

“HOOTERS HOOTERS HOOTERS.”  Bobbi joined Anna, both of them yelling at each other across the table.  

“Do we like these things?” Nakia asked Jane, grinning.

“We like making skeevy men very, very uncomfortable,” Jane said, serene about it.  “And how all the waitstaff love us the most.  The burgers are decent.  And someone will eventually try to hit on Natasha.  And then she will offer to fight them in the parking lot.”

“Oh, I do like fighting people in parking lots,” Nakia said.

“No one is going to fight anyone in a parking lot,” Maria said, rubbing her forehead.

“I got a postcard from Julietta, our favorite server, she’s on break from school and-”  Darcy pointed both index fingers at Pepper.  “She made the Dean’s list.”

“Well, that does is the deciding factor.”  Pepper held out her hand.  “Romanov.  Give me my shoes.  I have people to step on.”

“Hooooooooooooooters,” Anna crowed, spinning her chair.

Maria sighed, and everyone pretended not to see the smile on her face.  “I’ll bring the minivan around.”

[krzyktty101]

reblog if you believe fanfics are as valid as books that were published and sold by authors who write as their main careers. I'm trying to prove a point

[krzyktty101]

Reblog this if you would not only accept, but welcome fan art, moodboards, etc. of your fics

All of these used to be so common for people to show their appreciation of different fics and authors, and I think it’s a shame people don’t do it anymore. I love seeing fan work for my fics!!

[krzyktty101]

Tony spread his hands wide, grinning. “As Phil likes to say, we have this under control.” That’s when the alarms went off. “See, this is why no one trusts you,” Tony said to Phil, even as Steve shot out of the kitchen, running full speed for the stairs.

Tony jinxes them (chp. 1)

You or Someone Like You by scifigrl47 (AO3) Avengers (Marvel Movies) – Teen – Steve Rogers/Tony Stark #Alternate Universe #Multiverse #Fluff #Angst #Lost children #Found Family #Kidfic #DJ Stark

Bad things happen when you punch holes in the fabric of time and space. Things get lost.

Including things that really, really shouldn’t be misplaced.

Part 9 of the Tales of the Bots series (AO3)

Note: This is a restricted story and requires an AO3 account in order to read

[krzyktty101]

"Waa why aren't fandoms fun anymore" because you keep policing people's headcanons, make fun of cosplayers,make fun of selfshipers, make fun of beginner artists and just make fun of people for having fun 😐

[krzyktty101]

There comes a time in every Robins life where they realize that crying will actually get them out of this.

[krzyktty101]

Btw if anyone ever has any headcanons of any DC characters (not just batfam) or just wants to rant abt your faves this is an open invite to send them to my asks I'd love to see them

More batfam twitter shenanigans here

Image descriptions in alt text, taglist under the cut

Taglist: @scarlettauthor @searchingforthelamps @aceisferal @lady-bizarre @nana-mizu-shiki @reality-itself-but-magic @humanoidluv @shortstorylover @luckybyrdrobyn @ginevraxrogers @universal-travel-er @timpendragon @limeskittlesaredecent @illburnyouontheceiling @half-emptyjuicebox @genderlessblomber @i-suc-at-art @somniphobicfox @ultra-stormsaga @procrastinators-folly @folk-ever-lore @marinafanning @tzuyu132132 @sackofsadstuff @notarobot-lastichecked @blankliferain @kking13 @blackholegladiator @formulaonebuff @blackholegladiator @wrongwaykelly @smiling-through-sadness @cygnusdoesthings @lyninabin @justabilingualchileangirl @atlasaurelius @xxrougefangxx @fictional-love21 @kittyplayz1 @bae-graphomaniac @rusty-lake-resident @spawn0fsatan @savetheupholstery @lostsomewhereinthegarden @dead-potato-monster @its-a-dam-blue-brick @elamimax @ja50nt0ddwa5h3r3 (continued in replies due to tag limit)

[krzyktty101]

October 3: Chilly Fall Day

(Harris/Darcy, Toasterverse All prompts can be found under Sci's Fictober)

“Let’s go for a walk.”

Harris paused in the act of moving bacon to a paper towel to drain.  He looked over his shoulder as Darcy padded into the kitchen, still rubbing her hair with a towel.  She grinned at him, her cheeks flushed from her shower, an oversized t-shirt hanging low over her hips.  “What?” he asked at last.

“I think we should go for a walk today,” Darcy said, walking up behind him.  She reached around his side, trying to sneak a piece of bacon, and he moved the plate out of reach.  Laughing, she retreated.  “C’mon.  We don’t have any other plans, right?”

“I have plans,” Harris pointed out.  “They involve my couch and a remote and my cat and maybe a pizza.”

“Does that count as a plan?” Darcy opened a cabinet, grabbing some plates and stacking glasses on top.  “It sounds more like what you do when you don’t have a plan.”

“It’s a solid plan.”  Harris reached for the carton of eggs.  “Fried egg?”

“Yes, please,” Darcy said, balancing everything against her hip with one hand and fishing silverware out of the drawer with the other.  “And it’s a back up plan.  At best.”

“Okay, maybe,” Harris admitted.  He cracked an egg against the counter and broke it into the pan, waiting for it to settle before reaching for a second one.  “But counter point, it’s cold out there.”

“It’s barely autumn,” Darcy said, setting the table.   When everything was laid out, she pulled the towel off of her head, giving her damp curls a quick shake.  “You barely need a jacket.”

“I always need a jacket.”  Harris checked the heat.  “Except when I’m here.  With my cat and a nice blanket.”

“We can do that tomorrow,” Darcy said.  “For once, we’re up early, and we have no plans and I want to put on something cute and go outside and walk around.”  She opened the fridge, grabbing the orange juice.  “Okay if I make toast?”

“Yeah, there should be some cinnamon swirl bread in there.  Grab the butter?”

“As if I would forget the butter,” Darcy said, her nose firmly in the air.  She shook the orange juice in hs direction.  “There’s not much time to take advantage of autumn, Harris, I have to take advantage of it when I can.”

“It’s three months, just like the other seasons, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, but I can only be fashionable in autumn.  Thus, I’d like to leave your apartment.”  

Harris stopped in place, the spatula hanging in mid air.  He took a deep breath.  Released it.  “Explain.”

“Okay.” She dropped a couple of slices of bread into the toaster and pushed down the lever with a little too much enthusiasm.  “Winter.  Great.  Love winter.”

“No, you don’t,” Harris said, arms folded over his chest.  “If you had a choice, you would retreat into a literal pile of pillows and blankets and not come out for three months.”

“Yeah, fuck SHIELD for turning down my work from home proposal last November.”  She broke a banana off from the bunch and tossed it on the cutting board.  “But fashionably, winter is fine.  I look good in a soft sweater and a dumb knit hat with a pompom on top, you know?”  

She slid a knife from the block and cut the banana in half with one firm strike.  Harris tried not to wince.  “I do know,” he said, resisting the urge to mess with his eggs.  “No one can work a dumb hat with half your confidence.”

Darcy grinned.  “I”m choosing to take that as a compliment, just so you know.”

“Exactly as intended.”  Harris reached for the handle of the air fryer basket.  “So what does that-”

“So winter is good, but when you’re already someone a bit on the zaftig side-”  Darcy, gave a little bump and grind with her hips and Harris lost track of what he was doing with the air fryer for a second.  “You really don’t need three additional layers and a puffer jacket on top of everything, and it’s hard to be cute when there’s about three square inches of your face showing between your scarf and your hat.”

“Don’t know what you mean, does wonders for me,” Harris said.  He gave the potatoes a shake and put the basket back.  A couple more minutes.  “Boots?”

“Clompy boots with waffle soles,” Darcy said, and she sounded properly morose.  “So it’s not great.  Then you’ve got spring, and spring, you can ditch the thick jacket sometimes, and wear floral prints and pastels and all that shit because it might not look good on you but you’re so sick of gray, dirty, half-melted snowbanks that slapping a crocus pattern across your tits is a coping mechanism.”

Harris grinned at his eggs.  “Are you sure this is a universal problem, because it sounds kind of like were’ getting into some real particulars here and-”

“I swear to god I will make a twitter poll next March and you can eat those words, MacIntyre.  The women of this city are about ready to chew through the drywall long before the first sixty degree day.  Sometime in mid February, everyone thinks they can wear pastel yellow and let me tell you-”  She paused, pointing the knife at him.  “They cannot.”

“Right,” Harris said.  He pointed at the fruit bowl.  “Apples?”  She reached for one, and Harris went back to the eggs.  “But other than that-”

“Spring.  Rain.” Darcy sliced the apple with a couple of quick passes of the knife.  “You can be in the cutest outfit in the world and once it starts pouring, you’re just going to look like a pastel drowned rat, runny mascara and all.”

Harris nodded.  “So spring is, what, cute but ill-advised?”

“Harsh, but true,” Darcy said with a grin as the toaster popped.  She reached for the toast and the butter..  “And that gets us to Summer.”

“Right.  Short skirts and a lot of plunging necklines,” Harris mused, his voice dreamy.  “Little strappy sandals.”

Darcy grinned at him.  “Are you done?”

“Crop tops,” he rushed out.  “Okay.  I’m-  Wait, no, no, bikinis.”  He slapped a hand on the counter.  “Okay.  Now I’m done.”

“Bitch, when have you seen me in a bikini?” Darcy asked, and she was laughing.

“Every night.  In my dreams.”  Harris ducked when she threw a tea towel at him.  Laughing, he grabbed a pot lid, holding it up in front of him like a shield.   “Ha! Do your worst!”

“Pretty sure my ‘worst’ actually involves a bikini,” Darcy mused.  “I’ll consider a tankini.”

“I will give you my credit card right now.”  Harris flipped the eggs.  “Don’t tempt me.”

“You’re good for my ego,” Darcy said, sliding the sliced apples onto a plate.  “So summer’s good because all the cute clothes, all the designer sunglasses and big, floppy hats.”

“I am seeing exactly zero down sides here,” Harris agreed.

“Humidity that’s like trying to breathe through a wet sock and temperatures so high that it’s like being baked alive when you expose any part of your skin to direct sunlight,” Darcy said, her voice dire.

“Okay, so that’s not the-”

She leaned over the kitchen island, her mouth set in a scowl.  “Boob sweat.”

The snort of laughter caught him so off guard that he nearly dropped the pan.  Struggling to pull himself together, he made the mistake of looking at Darcy, who stared at him, stone faced, and cupped her boobs in her hands.

Harris lost it. 

He managed to get the pan back on the burner before he doubled over, laughing hysterically as me made a futile grab for the counter.  He missed and toppled over, laughing all the way down.  His ass hit the tile, and he just sat there, laughing so hard that his stomach hurt..

Darcy looked around the end of the kitchen island.  “Has anyone told you that you have the exact sens of humor of a twelve year old boy?” she asked, and despite the question, there was a certain smugness to her smile. 

“Fuck you,” Harris managed, between little eruptions of giggles.  “You’re hysterical.”

Darcy flipped her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her hand.  “Yes, thank you, I know,” she said, stepping over Harris’s legs to collect the eggs.  She smiled down at him.  “So summer has its pros and cons.”

“Right,” Harris said, resting his head on the cabinet door.  “And that leaves-”

“Autumn.”  Darcy gave a firm nod.  “Autumn, the time of cute little ankle boots and super soft leggings and the kind of plaid wool skirts that fall just right.”  She posed for a moment with the frying pan, one foot tucked behind the other, a hip popped, her head back.  “The softest sweaters, and little crop top jackets and tartan scarves that frame your face and make your neck seem long and elegant.”

Harris smiled up at her, one knee drawn up so he could rest an arm on it.  “I see you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

She did a little spinning step, setting the pan on the island.  “Let’s go apple picking.”

Harris pretended to consider that.  “Does Central Park offer that now?”

“We can leave this city, you now.”  She leaned over.  “Let’s go.  We can pick apples and choose a pumpkin straight from the fields and eat apple cider donuts and go to arts festivals and take pictures of the fall foliage.”

“We’re taking pictures of dead leaves now?” Harris asked, rolling to his feet.  “Why?”

“Instaaaaaaaaagram,” Darcy sing-songed.  She folded her arms on the island and leaned her chin on them, peering up at him from under fluttering lashes.  “Let’s go.  Fall is calling.”

He gave up, and he’d never felt better about giving up in his life.  “Breakfast first.  Then we’ll brave Autumn in New York.”

Darcy smiled at him.  “I always loved that song.”

He nodded, and reached for the bacon.  “It’s growing on me.”

[krzyktty101]

Merlin is out again, fighting monsters, returning home covered in blood.

The guards don't recognise him, so they refuse to let him in and Merlin's magic is too tired to flick them out of the way.

Instead, he climbs up the windowsill on the outside (because he's physically fine, just his magic is used up.)

He finds an open window and more or less collapses into Arthur's arms.

Arthur, who couldn't sleep and just stared at the moon, startles as this blood covered intruder gets in. Instinct kicks in, and he - embraces the man? What took Arthur's instincts less than a moment, takes Arthur a second glance to recognize his manservant.

Arthur: Merlin, what the hell?

Merlin: oh, hey, Arthur. Thanks for letting me in, the guards wouldn't.

Arthur: how the heck did you get up here?

Merlin: ... I ... Climbed?

Arthur: in the dead of night and - why the fuck are you covered in blood?

Merlin: haha, you should see the other guy

[krzyktty101]

vintage superbat

[krzyktty101]

merlin gets sick. like. bad sick. maybe its a curse maybe its natural idk all i know is that merlin gets sick. he has a fever so high he is somewhat delirious. his whole body hurts. he feels like death. he ends up traversing the castle to enter arthur’s chambers and climbs into bed next to him. he was in pain and felt like shit and in his delirious state, he went to the one person who could always offer him comfort. arthur wakes to find merlin curled up next to him, his tunic fisted tightly in his hand as if to keep arthur where he was. gaius quietly walks in and extracts merlin from the bed, apologizing and explaining that merlin was ill and delirious with the fever. merlin is being tugged out of bed, away from arthur.

he’s fighting as best he can which, considering he’s sick, isn’t that good as gaius doesn’t even blink. then merlin is being dragged across the room, away from arthur and his body heat which was chasing away the chills and his touch was easing his pain. merlin starts complaining, whining more like, about how he wants arthur. gaius apologizes again and says he’ll send for a replacement to serve him before finally getting merlin out of arthur’s chambers and back to his own bed. gaius steps out for an hour to retrieve herbs from the town and returns to finds arthur curled around merlin in his little cot in his room, merlin fisting arthur’s tunic and arthur’s hand rubbing up and down merlin’s back.

[krzyktty101]

Merlin’s face scrunched up, and Arthur assiduously avoided thinking about how cute his nose was when it got all wrinkled like that. “Am I late to dress you for training, my lord? I thought that was later.”

“You aren’t, and—for heaven’s sake, Merlin, don’t use my title like that.” Arthur shoved a hand in his hair.

“Like what?”

“So … so seriously. Like you mean it.”

Merlin’s eyes widened enough that Arthur thought they might pop out of his head. “Um, of course I mean it, sire.”

“No! Ugh, you should be calling me, I don’t know, clotpole, or dollop-head!” Grimacing, Arthur dropped heavily onto a wooden bench.

Merlin stood rooted to the spot, surveying him warily. “You … want me to insult you?”

ao3 is still being a little wonky, but chapter 5 of Raise My Hands, Paint My Spirit Gold is up!

[krzyktty101]

in a world of boys, he’s a gentleman <3

need an au of them in the modern day where arthur really is just a chivalrous guy and is trying to court merlin but merlin is Dumb and cant connect the dots

[krzyktty101]

I'm trying to find one of the first modern merthur fanfics that I ever read over 10 years ago. It was a modern royalty fic, and I think Merlin was some sort of staffer (maybe?). I remember there being a large portion where Merlin moved into Arthur's residence during their relationship starting??? I feel like I read it on fanfic.net??? Help 😭

[krzyktty101]

Noble: When I'd heard that Prince Consort Merlin used to be a peasant I'll admit I had my concerns but he is quite the proper gentleman. He's polite, respectful, always uses the proper titles, he's- Arthur: Mad at me Noble: Excuse me, Sire? Arthur: He's mad at me. He only ever puts on this performance of being the perfect consort when he's mad at me, he knows it drives me crazy Merlin: Is there anything you need from me before I retire to my chambers Sire? Arthur: You can tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it and you can go back to insulting me