#OR it means that Arthur is lying to him. That he doesn’t trust him enough to tell him who is he is and that he’s not a safe enough person

[shanastoryteller]

Happy birthday! FMA is possible or dealers choice

Annie grew up with so many things being good but not quite good enough.

She hated it and swore to live a life of too much, to indulge in excess, to gain fluency in not one new language, but four, to travel and eat and fuck until she was sick from overindulgence.

Loving like that hadn’t been her intention, but pattern recognition can be a bitch that way.

Of course she was the first to jump out of the plane during training at the Farm.

She loves the sensation of falling.

~

Ben had been like being struck by lightning.

She’d been sand, shifting and impossible to grasp and disappearing with the next tide. Then with a single strike, she was glass. Changed forever, with no choice but to adapt or break.

Annie had thought that for Ben, she could refocus her heart, if not shrink it. He was a feast, surely enough to sustain even her greed, so there’d be no need for hunger to draw her elsewhere.

In the end, she hadn’t had time to find out. He was there, then gone.

Even when she gets him back, when there are a glorious few months when she thinks that just maybe –

But, well. Pattern recognition is a bitch.

In the end, Ben can only be an indulgence. It’s sweet, when she can, but she learns not to rely on it, to rely on him.

~

Jai isn’t someone she sinks into. She wants to, thinks that he could, but that pattern recognition gets in her way. Something about him never feels quite right to her, but so few things feel right to her.

Still. He’s dependable. He looks out for her. Even when things sour, when he turns angry and biting while jockeying for power with Joan and Arthur, he’s still there for her. He protects Eyal because she wants him protected. He goes back onto the field to help her.

When he discovers something terrible, and believes he can trust no one, he trusts her.

He dies in fire right in front of her and her glass heart shatters.

He was her friend, he cared about her, she trusted him despite all the reasons not to, and now he’s gone.

Why does this keep happening? It’s hard not to focus on the common factor here.

Herself.

~

She should know better when it comes to Eyal, but it’s hard. He’s a foreign operative for a competing agency and he’s an ass but every single time she’s needed him, he has been there.

Pattern recognition is a bitch.

Annie is so desperate to be right about someone, to hand someone her heart and have them treat it gently. Eyal is always sweet to her, always has her back, but she’s learned her lesson. She lets herself like him, because she should like him, and that’s safe.

Then Russia happens. Then he goes off book to break her out of a Russian prison and smuggle her out of the country when what should have happened was her dead on those filthy stone floors.

She knows how it will end, because it’s how it always ends.

When he betrays her, it’s almost a relief.

Except as he confesses, it feels like he’s lying to her – but what does she know, anyway? Her blind spot is always the men she thinks she can trust.

~

Then there’s Auggie.

He’s not an indulgence. She doesn’t fall in love with him so much as step into it, head held high and eyes wide.

She hopes that mean it can last.

[evita-shelby]

Incantatrice

Chapter 15

Cw: the usual shit like mentioned murders, some slut shaming, etc

Taglist: @thegreatdragonfruta @zablife @babayaga67 @wandawiccan60 @call-sign-shark

While Luca coordinates the murder of the Shelby who started this, Eva decides to meet the woman at the center of it all: Elizabeth Stark.

“Did he ever give you the ring?” Eva asks as the woman aims a gun at the stranger in her house.

“Who are you, how did you get in here?” She asks knowing damn well what she means and yet hoping it is not the case.

“Not here to kill you, as much as they blame you for his death, it wasn’t entirely your fault I suppose.” The witch raised her hands to show she was unarmed ---not that she needed a weapon in her hands to do so if she changed her mind--- and the woman drops her weapon.

“I didn’t want him to die, we were supposed to run away to New York, but ---” Lizzie Stark can’t even say it.

But they own me.

He owns me.

Women once hired and had by a gangster cease to belong to themselves and become his.

Lizzie had only changed hands from John to Tommy Shelby the moment she agreed to be his secretary and personal whore.

“Oh, I know, he owns you. But that’s not the whole of it, I know that with just a snap of his fingers Thomas Shelby had you on your knees for him even that night before the wedding. Didn’t matter he had a wife; it wasn’t like she existed to be anything but a pretty trophy.

If he took you away, Angel had hoped you would forget Thomas, but you just had to tell him you were leaving. You wanted him to stop you.”

It is a low blow, but Eva doesn’t care.

She needs her guilt to drive a wedge between Shelby and his family.

Lizzie was more loyal to him than his aunt and brothers combined.

If Lizzie faltered, Shelby would have no one to turn to.

“I, I—” Lizzie, a woman who life made strong as steel, crumpled like a flower. “I didn’t know John would attack him. I didn’t know he would have him killed like that!”

Guilt is such a powerful tool.

“He has a wife.” Lizzie says as she sits herself in his old office and both act as if nothing is going on. “She is a witch like Polly.”

They were here waiting for the others.

No one save Ada, Arthur, Finn, and Michael had come home.

Linda had gone to her old house, locked the door behind them and said she’d be damned if her baby boy must pay for their sins.

“And you want me to believe you?” Thomas asked sarcastically. While he treaded with care about this side of things, he knew most witches were frauds.

This is not the case.

“She knew we fucked the night before your wedding. That you told me that the Grace you were marrying felt like pretty trophy to you.” This catches his attention, blue eyes narrowing in fear.

Even if they killed the Italians, one curse was enough to make sure they follow them to hell right after.

Thomas’ mother had laid a curse on the woman who called the parish on Polly and took her children, the woman choked on the body of Christ the following Sunday and dropped dead right there on the church.

Then people knew not to fuck with a Shelby.

“What did she want?” he asks knowing he won’t trust her with the answer she gives him.

How could you let him, I wanted out of this hell, Tommy! She remembers screaming at him when Angel’s mother called from the hospital to tell her what John did.

And then he told her he had killed Angel. That he himself had put a pillow over his face because it was his fault Grace was dead.

And somehow that pain, that blood in his hands led to them fucking like animals in the bed once occupied by the wife he never even knew.

“To present different terms. Luca and his mother want all of you gone, but she knows the vendetta can end if just the ones with blood on their hands are dead. That there was no need for anyone else to die, which is why she had the Macmillan’s take Charlie from you.”

Tell him it was me, she said fixing her red lipstick as she left.

“Nothing else?” he asks, thinking she is lying to him.

He won’t believe you, but oh well, Miss Stark, the witch had said.

Thomas trusted her with everything except his head and heart.

Grace, not the one he married, but the lying rat from the Garrison, he had trusted with his head and heart.

“No.”

“I was thinking, Maga we need a bambino to name after my brother. A little Angelo or Angelina to remember him by.” Luca said as they enjoyed the great start the vendetta had had.

It is Christmas morning when the first body falls.

Lizzie was not believed, and Tommy Shelby’s paranoia isolated him from everyone, Polly assumed she had fooled them and would learn the hard way no one lied to them and lived and soon all this would be over.

Thomas would have killed Michael anyways, better them than him, the witch supposed.

Esme Shelby would take the children and leave for France, Linda Shelby would not need much encouragement to leave England with her sweet baby boy and Finn Shelby, well, he may try but he has no taste for this sort of life.

Ada Thorne and her son would have to die as well if she doesn’t know what’s good for her. Change her name, move to some nice Jewish Neighborhood, marry a nice Jewish man, and forget she was ever a Shelby.

“Maybe, once this is over. Spring is a perfectly good time to give our new kingdom another little princess. Angela Lucia, what do you think?” she asks as she drinks in the sight below her window, while Small Heath reminded her of the less than picturesque parts of Mexico City, this would be theirs.

No more biting her tongue, no more being the quiet and well-mannered lady who is fine with not being the queen of the land.

Even her card has changed.

It was not the High Priestess anymore.

Eva had become the Empress.

And every empress needs an empire.

[thatgirlonstage]

Continued Merlin brainrot but in the way of all “this could’ve been great but instead it is a mess” shows there will be lines that drive you absolutely insane because they could and should be so so so important but instead they were written for one episode and immediately forgotten

Anyway this exchange, from The Witch’s Quickening:

Merlin: Thank you

Arthur: For what exactly?

Merlin: For—

Arthur: Lying to my father to save your worthless hide?

Merlin: …Yeah

Arthur: If you ever put me in that position again, I’ll clap you in irons myself.

is like. Okay!!!! Before this exchange we could generally infer that one of Merlin’s reasons for continuing to keep his magic secret even as he and Arthur grow closer and trust each other more is that he knows it would put Arthur in an awful position. Even if Merlin could be 100% sure that Arthur wouldn’t want him executed—which, frankly, he can’t—Arthur would have to choose to either commit treason by sheltering a sorcerer and lie to his father’s face, or see Merlin executed anyway. Of course Merlin doesn’t like those odds! No one would like those odds!!! And then Arthur up and says it. He tells Merlin to his face not to make him lie for him. He tells Merlin in plain words that if it’s a choice between sending him to the dungeon or lying to his father, he will choose the former.

Do I think Arthur is speaking out of stress and anger here and would never actually follow through with this, especially if it got Merlin executed? Yeah. Of course. I don’t remember the show well enough to know if there is another incident of lying to his father’s face for Merlin after this, but like. He would have. No hesitation. I mean come on. But a) it makes total sense that Merlin himself can’t take that risk with his most life-threatening secret, and b) more importantly, maybe, Merlin hears the true thing underneath the anger, which is that Arthur hates lying to Uther. He hates breaching his honor as son and heir and while he’ll do it, knowing the alternative is severe punishment falling on Merlin (bc Uther would be happy enough to make an example of a servant), he never wants to go through it again. And Merlin, self-sacrificial idiot that he is, files this away like got it! Arthur can never know about my magic while Uther lives, because I can’t make him lie for me. Because Merlin will always, always, always take more pain and danger on himself to spare Arthur from it.

At least that’s what one is left to believe because this exchange is never mentioned or called back or referenced in any way after this episode so you just have to go insane about it by your damn self

[desomniis]

Crimson, Gold and Azure Blue | Chapter 7 Excerpt

WIP | 7/? | 39,572 words | RWRB-inspired Charlos fic | Enemies to Lover | Fluff | Royalty AU | Slow Burn

‼️WARNING: SPOILERS AHEAD‼️

"Hey," Carlos greeted, reappearing at their table. His hair was a little bit of a mess, shoulders visibly tensed.

Charles, attempting to keep his voice steady and light, joked, "Took you long enough. Were you doodling the borders of the modern Spanish Empire on some toilet paper in there? Strategising the reconquest of the former colonies.”

At first, Carlos looked confused, but as he caught on to what Charles was saying, his laughter rang out. "If your washroom came equipped with a decent marker, and if the toilet paper wasn’t practically see-through, I might've been tempted.”

Feigning offence, Charles retorted, “I'll have you know, those were top-quality 3-ply.”

Carlos smirked, "We use 4-ply at the pavilion."

“Always one-upping me,” Charles commented. “Here, have some eclairs.”

“Didn’t know we’re having eclairs for dessert.”

“Yeah, it was exclusively just for me. But I figured sharing is caring, so.”

“Wow. Your concern for me is finally… blooming.”

“Take one piece before I change my mind.”

“Thank you,” Carlos said, his eyes glistening like he just cured his hunger for something.

Carlos bit into the eclair, his eyes closing in delight as if he'd just tasted a piece of heaven. Then his face shifted, euphoria morphing into deep contemplation, staring at the pastry like it held the secrets of the universe. Charles blinked. He was sure he didn’t get the ones from his actual secret stash full of infused—

“You alright, mate?” Charles asked, before he could finish the thought.

Carlos hesitated, looking up. “Charles, can we— can we talk? somewhere private preferably.”

Panic flitted across Charles' mind. Did he find out? How? Is my guilty face that obvious? I'm seriously rubbish at lying.

“I, uh, sure…” Charles stammered, racking his brain."There's a quiet sitting room inside. Shall we?"

Charles led the way to the sitting room, the thick carpet beneath their feet muffling their footsteps. The room was dimly lit, with heavy drapes drawn and only a few lamps providing a soft, warm glow.

“Charles—”

“I swear I didn’t hear anything,” Charles burst out “I mean, I did overhear, but I can totally act like I didn’t. I'm like a vault of royal secrets, trust me. Well, almost. Except for that one time with Arthur when…” Charles' words tumbled out in a rush.

“Wait,” Carlos interrupted, “were you in the garden just now?”

Charles shifted uneasily. “I, um… Let's just hypothetically say if I were there, it'd be by pure accident?”

“How much did you hear?”

“Nothing! Nada! I heard nothing…”

Carlos raised a doubtful eyebrow.

“Alright, snippets,” Charles admitted. “But I had no idea who you guys were talking about.”

Carlos leaned on one of the tables, as if for balance. “It was— it was about you, Charles,” Carlos admitted.

Charles raised his eyebrows. “Me? Wow… he really doesn’t like me, does he?”

Carlos bit his lip, not meeting Charles' gaze.

“But why? We don’t talk. I know next to nothing about him, apart from the fact that he’s the spare to the English throne and he talks about climate change and stuff but! I bet he knows nothing about me as well.”

Carlos hesitated, a light flush appearing on his cheeks. "He, uh, knows a fair bit about you, actually. You came up in conversation, maybe once or twice.”

“Once or twice?”

“Perhaps more than a few.”

Charles's eyebrows knitted in confusion. “You talk about me to him? What on earth for?”

Carlos shifted uncomfortably, looking like he'd rather be somewhere else. "You see… you’re interesting, Charles. I… I'm drawn to you. More than I've ever been to anyone.”

Charles squinted. He swore he was sober and Carlos was speaking English, not some alien language. "I still don't get it,” Charles said.

Carlos sighed and closed his eyes. “Dios, You really can be oblivious, can’t you?”

Before Charles could comprehend the comment, Carlos closed the distance between them, grabbed his face and kissed him.

Carlos was kissing him.

His lips crashed onto his own like a wave meeting the shore, sweeping him off his feet. Charles had to clutch onto the hem of Carlos' shirt to ground himself.

He wanted to pull away, to make sense of what was happening, but every touch, every sensation pulled him in further, beckoning him to be lost in the intoxicating mix of Carlos' cologne and champagne. He was lost in the warmth of Carlos’ hand as it slid up his nape, fingers tangling in his hair, the other gently pressed against the small of his back, pulling him closer. He was lost in the gentle graze of Carlos’ stubble against his skin, sending shivers down his spine, and the soft strands of his hair tickling Charles' cheek.

He tried to fight it, he really did, but he was completely and utterly lost in the kiss. No one had ever kissed him like that. So he allowed himself to be lost, to surrender and open himself up to Carlos. It was probably one of the best decisions he had ever made.

Eventually, the fervour kiss waned, leaving only the warmth of Carlos' breath ghosting over Charles' lips. Golden eyes met azure blue, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

"Hope that clears things up,” Carlos whispered.

It did.

And that, was precisely the problem.

Read the whole chapter here. Ask me questions!

[strangunddurm]

The Cabin

Masterlist

Pairing: Clyde Logan x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, self pleasure, fingering, masturbation, alcohol consumption.

Please accept my offering of my vision of mountain man Clyde.

A hike in the woods was meant to calm your mind and let you focus on yourself for a while; a sort of cheap alternative to going to a spa. However, you were anything but relaxed, and focused on everything except just yourself.

You were lost. Despite spending hours on YouTube trying to learn how to navigate, you had still taken the wrong turn and didn’t notice until it was too late. Thankfully it was the beginning of autumn, so it was still warm outside, and you didn’t need to start worrying about getting cold just yet, despite the sun slowly descending across the horizon.

The crappy phone which you had insisted didn’t need replacing had died long before you realized just how lost you were. You had a particularly bad habit of never charging your phone and it was coming back to bite you in the ass.

You had taken a, supposedly, easy trail. ‘Beginner friendly’ was the description your friend had given you when you asked for tips. You were cursing them mentally in your mind now, their definition of ‘beginner friendly’ was obviously vastly different from yours.

It had been hours, or at least it felt like it. You were steadily making your way through the granola bars you had packed. Your version of survivor mode consisted of trying to eat everything you could see due to anxiety, instead of saving it in case you’d be out here for hours.

It was the same rock you had passed a while back, you were sure of it, convinced that you were officially just walking in one big circle.

You hadn’t seen anyone else out on the trails which were surprising.; you figured trails were usually always packed with curious adventurers.

The snap of a branch pulled you out of your inner monologue, causing you to freeze and your heart to painfully contract in fear. You were sure that this was the moment you would die; a rabid coyote was surely bound to attack you at any moment. Were there even coyotes in West Virginia? You didn’t want to find out.

Turning around to see what it was that had made the sound wasn’t an option in your mind, it really wasn’t. Turning around would, in your mind, mean that you were accepting being mauled to death and despite your sometimes negative output you wanted to live for a while longer.

“Please, please, please don’t be a coyote… pleas-“ You let out a loud scream as a hand grabbed onto your shoulder, instinctively jabbing your elbow back to connect with the somewhat soft stomach of someone who was very much not a wild and crazed animal.

Whoever was behind you let out a low ‘ouff’ sound from your attack but did not seem overly affected otherwise.

“Sorry!” It was a man’s voice, judging from the deep tone of it. You whirled around whilst simultaneously attempting to take a step backwards, resulting in you falling to the ground ungracefully. There was definitely no chance you could run away from him now if he turned out to be less than friendly.

“Who are you?” You shuffled back against the ground, trying to put some distance between the two of you in naïve hope. The stranger, noticing your distress, put his hands out in front of him whilst taking a few steps back, increasing the distance between the two of you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare ye.” You surveyed him sceptically as he apologized. He looked like he was a nice person, but that only went so far, anyone had the ability to look nice. He blended into your surroundings, lacking the bright colours you were wearing; it was obvious that he did not share in your desire to want to be seen. He also looked like he was much more used to the woods than you were (not that it was hard).

“Are ye okay?” His question made you realize that you hadn’t replied, and you were still lying there like a seal on the ground. You stumbled up onto your feet with a huff, grabbing a stick that was laying by your hand just as you thrust yourself up.

It was a small stick, definitely incapable of causing serious bodily harm but you hoped that if you were desperate enough, it could poke out an eye. Or at least scratch it.

You held it out in front of you, wielding it like a sword. It was hard not to miss the smile that flew across the stranger’s face. You were most likely a funny sight, a flustered and oblivious city girl waving a twig. But you felt like King Arthur waving Excalibur and that was all that mattered. One lonely girl pumped full of adrenaline could do a lot of damage with a twig and a mean right hook.

“What do you want?” You spat. A tiny voice inside of you told you that you were being ridiculous. Here he was, a nice man probably just concerned over seeing you wander through the woods, obviously lost, so close to nightfall. But the devil on your other shoulder told you to trust no man, to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine and take off like a bat out of hell.

“I just wanted to see if ye were okay; it gets cold out here at night.” He still had his hands up like he was getting arrested. You considered his words carefully. You weren’t okay, you hadn’t planned on staying out until nightfall. All you were going to do was hike to the top of the mountain and go back down, but apparently, you were too incompetent to even perform that simple task.

“I called out a couple of times, but ye didn’t seem to hear me.”

“Oh,” You dropped the twig at the revelation. It explained a lot; you were after all notorious for getting lost in your thoughts and turning deaf.

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly as you lowered the stick to your side but still grasped it tightly (just in case). You sent him a small apologetic smile even though you didn’t owe him one.

“So, do ye need help?”

“Hmm…” Did you need help? You glanced around you, surveying your surroundings again. It was a lot closer to dark than you were comfortable with. The granola bars were all gone, you didn’t have anything warmer on than the fleece jacket you had dug out from the back of your closet. You had no way of contacting anyone and you were not competent enough to build anything close to a working shelter for the night.

You eyed him again as you thought over your answer. He seemed nice enough, he reminded you slightly of a big, burly bear. He was a behemoth of a man, standing tall and wide with dark hair and eyes, but there was some kindness there that made you feel as if you could trust him.

The thing that eventually won you over was his hand, it was obviously a prosthetic now that you were focusing on him. You hoped that a prosthetic hand meant that it was much less likely that he could grab a firm hold on you.

-

Clyde Logan wasn’t a very talkative man. If you were to google ‘mountain man’ he would pop up as one of the image results. The modern version of course, accompanied by the usual camo gear. You had always had a weakness for the lumberjack flannels and the thick moustache that tickled his lips had you wondering what it would look like drenched in your juices.

But it would be stupid attempting to seduce the grumpy man that had saved you from certain death, right?

He knew so much about the woods and the dangers that were surrounding you, making you realize just how stupid you were to be out there alone. But of course, he didn’t offer you all of this information on his own. No, you had to practically force the words out of his mouth, but thankfully you were the Master of Babble, and he was eventually forced to answer if he ever wanted you to shut up.

You were making your way to his cabin that was apparently just over a mile away. Clyde was leading the way with you practically walking on his heels trying to keep up with his long strides and sneaking looks over your shoulder in paranoia to see if anyone was following the two of you.

Clyde had said that it was too late to return to your car seeing how late it was. Apparently, you had walked in the completely wrong direction from the start and were now a couple of miles away from civilization. He had graciously offered you a sleeping spot in his cabin over the night with a promise to help you back first thing in the morning.

It was picturesque, Clyde’s cabin. Nothing less than what you expected of the man, and surprisingly a lot cleaner than what you had assumed from stereotyping.

“This is so cute!” You admired, sending a small smile up to Clyde with a tilt of your head. He almost looked embarrassed over your praise, only responding with a small huff as he took his shoes off and walking toward the kitchen area.

It was a studio type of situation. Everything was in one room: the small kitchenette, tv-area, and makeshift bedroom. Clyde had flipped a switch which turned on a light that illuminated the entire cabin in a soft glow.

“There’s a bathroom over there.” Clyde gestured to a door on the left, and you couldn’t help peaking in. You hadn’t expected a fully functional bathroom at all, seeing how you were in the middle of nowhere but here it was. And you were so grateful. Going potty in the woods was not on your bucket list.

“Are ye hungry? It’s nothin’ much but I have some sandwiches that we can eat.” Clyde ran his fingers through his hair as he asked the question nervously when you came over after your brief tour of the cabin.

“A sandwich would be great, thank you!” You took it gratefully from his hand as he offered it to you before plopping down on the couch.

You were a lot hungrier than you had though. Your stomach rumbled loudly as you unwrapped the sandwich and taking a bite.

“Have you had this for long?” You said after you had finished chewing your first bite, gesturing with your hand wildly to the cabin.

“Couple of years.” Clyde didn’t look at you as he responded, focused intently on his own sandwich.

He left it at that, not elaborating any further and you didn’t want to cross the obvious boundary he had drawn, so you stayed quiet.

You were never good with silence and awkward situations. When others were perfectly comfortable with silence you just had to talk. Googled had diagnosed it as a symptom of anxiety but you had never actually built enough courage up to actually have a evaluation.

“Do you like to read?” You had taken notice of the overflowing bookcase he had. It was hard not to, it was perhaps the biggest piece of furniture he had, spanning the length of an entire wall.

“Mhmm” Honestly, the hums he would do to answer your questions made you soaked.

“What’s your favourite?” He looked as if he was considering your question, leaning back into his seat and looking up at the ceiling for a moment.

“It would have to be In Search for Lost Time by Marcel Proust.”

“I love that book.”

“Is that so?” You nodded your head with wide eyes, happy to have found a subject to talk about. You loved books, yes, but to be honest you had never read that book. But you were hoping you could wing it enough so that Clyde wouldn’t notice.

“What’s your favourite part?” Okay, so maybe you hadn’t thought it through. You couldn’t hide the small wince you did at his question.

It would’ve been better to have said nothing at all, you just really wanted Clyde to like you. You didn’t know why; it wasn’t like you were ever going to see him again. It was just that there was something about him that made you want to kneel and say, ‘please daddy’ and you didn’t know how to get there with someone so reluctant to talk.

“Ye tryin’ to impress me?” He must be a mind reader.

“Oh, no I just-“ You trailed off, unsure over what to say that would not make you seem as desperate.

He stood up, watching you as he made his way around the room, but he wasn’t moving toward you; instead, he disappeared through the front door without a word.

You deflated like a balloon as the door shut behind him, sinking into the cushions and cursing yourself. Why were you so desperate to impress people? The answer was simple because you were you and you had an irrational need for people having to like you.

-

Clyde wasn’t gone for long. He had simply gone out to fill up on the firewood for the fireplace that you had neglected to notice before.

“It’s supposed to get below 30 here tonight.” Was it rude to say that you were impressed with how easily he did things despite only having one hand? It wasn’t that you expected him to not be able to function at all, it’s just that you were barely functioning yourself with two hands.

It had already started getting just a tiny bit colder, enough for you to have curled your legs onto the couch, leaning on the armrest with a blanket thrown over you. The cold was a fiend that you would never get along with.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are ye sorry for?” He looked truly bewildered over your words, stopping what he was doing and looking up at you from his crouched position.

“I shouldn’t have lied.”

“’S okay.” He continued with starting a fire. “We’ve all told a white lie.”

“That’s true, but I’m usually better at playing it off.” You joked and he shared a chuckle with you.

It was cozy once Clyde got the fire started. He turned off the lamp in the ceiling, muttering something about preserving a battery, opting to turn on another by the bed and then settled back down. He was sitting next to you this time, not across from you in the chair as previously. You could practically feel the heat radiating from his skin, he was so close. The couch was small, only a two-seater, but you suppose that he didn’t need much more seeing how he was only one person.

Clyde crowded your personal space. It felt like he was everywhere around you, suffocating you (but in the best way). He slung his arm over the back of the couch, just barely grazing your back. You were surprised with how forward he was being but decided not to question it too much, figuring he might take it wrong and shy away.

“Yer not from ‘round here are ye?”

“Is it so obvious?” Of course, it was obvious. You told him where you lived and there seemed to be a small glint of recognition in his eyes.

“Ye should get a guide next time, one of the rangers will take ye for free.” It was surprising how caring he seemed to be.

“One of the rangers?” You didn’t want a ranger to show you around the next time.

“Mhmm”

“Can’t you take me?” You diverted your eyes from his face as you asked the question, feigning being shy. You let them trace down his sculptured-by-God body, double-checking for a ring on one of his fingers. There was none, or well you assumed that it wasn't a wedding ring. It didn't look like one, it had more of a class ring vibe to it.

Clyde didn’t respond immediately. He was studying you, analyzing every crevice of your face it seemed like.

It was impossible not to get lost in his eyes. You tried really hard not to at first but gave up way too quickly. You wondered if he knew just how attractive he was. He had to have several ladies running after him, desperate for a getaway in his cabin in the woods.

“Do ye want me to?” He finally asked. It was obvious that he had tensed up at your question. His back was rigid, he was sitting as straight as you had ever seen a person sit.

“Maybe…” You were subconsciously leaning closer toward him, inhaling as much of his sent as you could discreetly. It was very vampire-like of you.

He smelled just as you thought he would. Like pine trees. There was just the smallest undertone of sweat and it drove you wild. It wasn’t usually your scent of choice for obvious reasons but on Clyde… On Clyde it was as if he had been doused in some kind of pheromones that made you completely drenched and mad with want.

You thankfully stopped yourself before you could release the moan that was bubbling in your throat. Who in their right mind moaned to a stranger that they hadn’t even touched over the way they smelled? (Only counting people that weren’t high or drunk, of course).

It was a battle getting you to lean away from Clyde again, but the rational part of your brain thankfully won. You had to dig your nails into your thighs, trying to pinch yourself through the fabric of your pants to bring you back to reality and gain some self-control.

“I’ll take you.” He promised with a nod, looking as serious as always. You wondered if he always wore that expression with everyone. You hadn’t been able to coax a lot of smiles out of him, despite categorizing yourself as a fairly hilarious person and having cracked some jokes on the walk to the cabin.

You sent him a small smile in response, feeling relieved not to have been rejected. That would’ve been embarrassing.

He surveyed you for a while more before finally asking if you wanted a drink.

-

The makeshift bar cabinet that he had was surprisingly well-stocked. Too well-stocked for him to be a raging alcoholic. You questioned him curiously about it. Finding out that he was a bartender was a welcomed surprise. You challenged him to make a drink you had never heard of, and he was quick to deliver.

It was delicious, making it easy to pay him compliments over his talent.

“I own a bar, ‘s called Duck Tape.” It was clear that he was proud over his business, with the way his chest seemed to almost swell with his words.

You told him about your own job, not exactly sharing the same enthusiasm seeing how your job was one of the main reasons for why you needed a stress-relieving hike in the first place.

You’d always been a lightweight. It was no secret; you had an uncanny ability to be able to get hammered on one glass of alcohol. Google told you that it could have something to do with your liver, but you did not want to go to the hospital to find out.

You neglected to think about this small fact when you asked Clyde to make you a drink and you were now suffering the consequences. You were drunk, or at least somewhere over the border of tipsy.

Clyde seemed to have relaxed from the alcohol as well. He was much freer in letting a laugh leave his body which had caused you to jump at first in surprise at the boisterous sound.

He had shuffled closer to you, or was it you that had shuffled closer to him? It had happened without either of the two of you noticing but you didn’t try to move away once you did.

You didn’t speak about anything of significance, not really. It was all nonsense, but you never wanted it to stop. Eventually, you mutually decided that sleep was a necessity if you were going to have the energy to get back to your car in the morning.

“Ye can take the bed if ye want.” Clyde motioned over the back of the couch toward the bed in the corner of the room. You glanced over at it, gnawing at your lip as you considered his proposal. Would it be inappropriate to say that you wanted him to share the bed with you?

The bed was too small for it to be shared in any way that wasn’t intimate which was exactly what you wanted.

You assumed that Clyde was as interested in you as you were of him. His hand was dangerously close to your knee as it sat on the seat of the sofa; if he moved his finger less than an inch it would graze your skin.

“Where would you sleep?” You feigned innocent.

“I’ll take the couch.” He knew what you were doing; you could see it in his eyes. They had grown even darker than before and were hooded as they watched you. It was easy to get lost in them, they were the most expressive eyes you had ever seen.

Both of you knew that neither of you would sleep on the couch that night.

There was a flurry of hands and all of a sudden you were in his lap, grinding down, lips connected to one another.

Clyde was a great kisser. Scratch that. He was amazing. He knew exactly how to make you completely drenched from just a few nibbles and strokes of his tongue against your own. He was a natural (Or a player, but you somehow got the impression that he didn’t lure innocent people to his cabin on the regular for a quick lay).

You could feel how hard he was despite the layers separating his bulge from your core. Hard and large and it made you dizzy to think about.

Clyde was taking his time running his hands up and down your waist, his right hand grabbing here and there, never moving under your shirt despite your obvious eagerness. A roll of his hips elicited a moan from you.

Your own hands weren’t shy in their movements; they were grasping onto his broad shoulders, holding on to the fabric as you tried to pull him closer to you.

He separated his lips from yours with a chuckle.

“Eager, are we?” His crooked grin was panty-dropping worthy.

He trailed his lips down your neck before you could reply, suckling gently over your pulse point.

The moan he pulled from you echoed around the room as you tilted your head to the side, allowing him more room to roam.

Your hands tighten their hold on his shoulders. You had always been extra sensitive around the neck and the combination of his lips and the tickle from his moustache was enough to send you into overdrive.

“Clyde…” You breathed out his name shakily, feeling tingles start to travel from your hands and up your arms from the excitement.

He hoisted you up surprisingly quickly from the sofa, causing you to let out a shriek in surprise.

He was strong. Of course, he was strong, you shouldn’t have expected anything else but still…

He carried you toward the bed, setting you down unceremoniously on the edge. You had to grab a hold of the sheet so as not to fall over.

“I want you to strip.” There was no room for arguing in his voice, and it was exactly what you needed. You didn’t want to have to think about your actions.

He was watching you intently, waiting for you to do as you were told, causing you to frantically reach for the zip of your fleece, pulling it down your arms and then throwing it mindlessly away from you.

Your shirt was the next thing that came off. Clyde’s gaze followed as your shirt revealed more and more skin. You didn’t miss the way he bit his lip hungrily.

Your bra wasn’t perhaps the sexiest thing you owned but you weren’t exactly expecting to be in the situation you were when you headed out that morning.

The bra joined the other items a bit slower. You wanted to drag it out; was it mean that you wanted him to have to suffer just a tiny bit?

You were basking in his obvious admiration of your body as you slowly slid the pants down and stepped out of them, leaving you in just your socks and underwear.

Perhaps it wasn’t the sexiest you had ever looked, but it was the sexiest you had ever felt, and that was the important part.

“Panties too.” He had started palming himself through his pants, huffing out small groans of satisfaction here and there. It had made you drenched and you did not doubt that it was obvious to him just how aroused you were.

You were finally standing there in front of him, completely bare, socks and panties having been removed. His eyes ran over every inch and crevice of you that was visible in the low light.

He was still fully dressed, having just unbuttoned his pants so that he could force his hand down to tug at himself.

“I want you to lay down and touch yourself.” Touch yourself? Couldn’t he do it? You opened your mouth to argue but one look from Clyde made you snap your mouth shut again.

The comforter was soft against your skin as you laid down on your back. You were shy as you separated your legs just enough so that you could slip your hand in between your legs.

The first touch was electric. You had never felt such a reaction from simply touching yourself. Sure, you were an expert in getting yourself off, but it never felt quite like this, not this good from so little.

You circled your bud, applying just the right pleasure that caused you to moan. Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily, getting lost in the feeling building in your belly.

“Open yer eyes.” He had moved closer, a lot closer, with surprising stealth as you hadn’t heard even a low scuffle of feet. His eyes were commanding the attention of your own as he scolded you.

You withdrew your hand automatically from yourself, moving it up to rest on your belly, thinking that he must want you to stop. You were wrong, however, for his eyes snapped down to watch it and he scolded you once again.

“I didn’t tell ye to stop.” He only moved away once more when he was satisfied with your continued movements.

He walked over to the single chair by the living room table, dragging it with him back over to the bed, placing it by the end where he would get just the right view of you working yourself.

He pulled his pants down before sitting down with a huff. He had gone commando. You let out a whimper of need at the sight.

Clyde Logan was the owner of the most perfect cock you had ever seen. It was so heavy that it had barely been able to bob against his stomach, despite his sitting position.

You arched your neck, trying to get a closer look. It was swollen and huge and pink at the tip. His thumb was working over the head, smearing the precum that had leaked out.

“Ye stopped.” It was a statement, and he didn’t need to give you further instructions for you to once again start moving your hand between your legs.

You let it travel further down this time, to collect some of your wetness with two fingers before bringing it up to your mouth and tasting yourself. Sweet and tangy.

Clyde didn’t make a single sound to let you know if he was affected by your actions, so all you could do was assume that he was, and that was enough to spur you on.

You brought your hand back down, inserting a finger slowly, testing the waters. You were more than ready, your walls giving way easily to the intrusion.

A second soon joined the first and you set a steady rhythm, pumping them in and out with a squelch as your walls clenched around your digits. Your other palm came up to massage at your breast, twisting the nipple between your fingertips.

Your chest heaved with your moans that were penetrating the air. It was hard keeping your eyes open with the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling but you had to stay focus, you didn’t want to miss a second of seeing Clyde slumped from the pleasure of his touch as he fucked into his hand.

“I want ye to make yerself cum.” You were more than happy to give in to this demand. Your fingers were moving urgently inside of you, and your other hand moved on from your breast, coming down to pinch at your clit and then rub tight small circles over it.

The heat that had been steadily building inside of you, blossoming in your stomach, was slowly taking over your entire body now. Your toes were beginning to curl, and you were fighting your eyes from rolling backwards in your head.

And then, it all became too much for you and you let go and the best part of it all rolled over you like tidal waves, washing through you, soaking you with that post-orgasmic glow.

You let your fingers slowly slip out of you, letting your arms fall to your sides as you watched Clyde get up. You didn’t know if he had come, having been too focused on yourself, but it didn’t matter, he still stood at full attention.

Your mouth practically frothed at the sight of him, you could turn rabid from the need that you had for him. A whine slipped out of your mouth, an arm lifting up to reach out for him, needing to touch him.

He came close enough so that your fingers could just barely brush against the fabric of his pants that he still insisted on having on.

Rage took over your body. It was an irrational rage, why did he still have them on? You wanted them off and you wanted them off now. You had to see him, all of him, before you went insane from the deprivation. Was it even possible? To lose your mind over not getting to see another person naked? You certainly thought so.

You sat up, leaning on one of your shoulders as you looked up at him with a glare on your face.

“Take them off.” He was thoroughly amused by your attempt at a demand. You didn’t achieve quite the same rumble in your tone that he had which left no room for arguing, but still, he conceded and pushed the pants down his legs until they were low enough to be kicked off.

His shirt followed soon after, almost hitting you in the face as he threw it carelessly toward the corner of the bed.

You couldn’t help but admire him. A work of art, good enough to be hung in the Met, that was for sure.

You got on your knees in front of him, the height from the bed aiding you in being just tall enough so that you could place kisses on his chest- You placed the first one in the middle, right over his sternum whilst looking up at him.

Your eyes stayed locked as you planted another kiss over his heart, the next on his right pec, and so forth. They circled around one of his nipples, letting your teeth give it a small nibble before pulling it with you just a bit before releasing it and letting it revert to its original state, hard as a rock.

It was starting to get more and more obvious just how affected Clyde was getting, his arousal much more prominent, if that was even possible. You could feel it against your skin, you didn’t want to touch it just yet, dragging it out for as long as you could.

You enjoyed watching him become more and more flustered by your actions. His chest was heavy with each audible breath, cock tapping against your lower stomach, begging to be touched, but you kept your hands away. They were holding on to his thighs, caressing them in small movements that were making their way toward his cock at snail pace.

“Ye gon’ tease me all night?” You let out a laugh at the ridiculous accusation. If anybody had been the one to tease, it was Clyde.

“Are you going to tease me all night?” You threw the question back at him, biting your lip with an innocent smile.

He growled. He actually growled and you could feel how it caused a trickle to roll down your leg.

“Didn’t yer mammy or daddy ever teach ye not to talk back?”

“They didn’t actually” His eyes had steadily grown darker and darker as the evening progressed and were now on the border of black.

He smashed your lips together, grabbing a hold of your face with his right hand with a bruising grip. He kissed and nipped at your lips before pulling back and pushing you back onto the bed.

He was quick to follow you onto the bed as he guided you to lay on your back, spread eagle, with him kneeling between your legs. His hands were on his hips as he watched you. You squirmed under his gaze, trying to create some type of friction anywhere that would aid in bringing you closer to another release.

His kisses started on your inner knee, building their way up at a torturous pace. He didn’t leave a kiss between your legs; instead, he just hovered there so you could feel his hot breath tickle you before continuing.

You were practically sobbing for more when he finally made it to your lips.

“Please, you have to…”

“I have t’ what?” He looked completely serious as he looked down at you, balanced on one hand. He was expecting an answer from you, and you didn’t know what to say. You obviously wanted him to fuck you but for some reason, you were too shy to say it.

“Mhm… thought so,” He hummed before dropping down to his elbows pressing his entire body onto you.

You could feel all of him. His skin was electric against your own and you could feel his length brushing over your clit. He rolled his hips in a small wave and you arched your back from the moan that escaped you.

It had all built up so much that the smallest touch from him could cause you to completely fall apart, despite the orgasm you had had. It was because it was different when Clyde was the one that touched you; your own touch was nowhere near adequate in comparison.

He rolled his hips again, this time applying just a bit more pressure and you couldn’t help but to widen and draw up your legs slightly, wanting to give him easier access.

“I didn’t tell ye tha’ ye could move.” You were trembling from need at his words. You needed more; couldn’t he understand that?

You were reluctant as you started to bring your legs back down, but he (thankfully) hooked his left arm around your leg, stopping its descent. He hoisted it up to rest by the side of his hip as he simultaneously sat back upon his haunches.

“Do ye need me inside of ye?” Your head had started nodding before he could even finish the sentence, causing a wicked smile to spread across his face.

“I need t’ be inside of ye too.” They were the most glorious words you had ever heard.

His right hand gave a tug at his cock, but it didn’t need any more preparation. It was hard and as ready for you as you were him. He grabbed a hold of base, stabilizing it as he dragged it through your sweet and slickened folds before slowly slipping inside.

Your walls easily gave way for him as he finally pushed in due to your overflowing arousal. He stretched you as wide as you would go with little pain and raw pleasure. You were clenched tightly around him, walls squeezing him in a vice grip, trying to draw him in even deeper.

You could feel yourself grow more and more manic in your need as he sunk deeper and deeper into you. It was as if all other senses had disappeared and all you could focus on was his powerful thrusts that were drilling into you.

He kept your right leg at his hips, whilst his other hand was hoisting your left over his shoulder after just a few deep thrusts.

You choked from the warmth that spread through your body from this position. He was deeper than you even knew you could take him. The head of his cock tapping at your cervix with every drilling thrust but there was no pain, only excruciating pleasure that made tears leak from your eyes from happiness.

The carnal need was as fervent within Clyde as it was you. He couldn’t take it slow; his thrusts were forceful and intent on driving you to your next orgasm as quickly as he could.

“Fuck, ye feel good.” Clyde hissed. “Such a sweet an’ tight little pussy.”

Your eyes could barely focus on him, only catching small glimpses of him with his hair plastered to his forehead from the moisture that was collected there. Your hands were grasping onto the duvet, needing something to hold onto in desperation.

His thrusts were precise and well calculated; he hit that spot inside of you over and over again that made you let out guttural moans.

But he enjoyed torturing you and he suddenly came to a halt, retracting from you completely.

“Move over.” He helped to guide you in your haze. Your own movements were thankfully still quick despite your barely lucid mind as you shuffled to the side, and he laid down on the bed.

Clyde’s hand was supporting his base, helping it stand tall, ready for you to penetrate yourself onto it. You threw your leg over his hips to straddle him. You hovered over his cock, looking down to see how you were dripping on to him.

You didn’t stay there for too long before mounting yourself onto it, dropping down with a pant as you engulfed him within you.

The pace you set was frantic, chasing climax. Your hands came down to rest on his chest to better help you push yourself up and down his cock. The sound of your skin slapping against his echoed around the room, driving your wild.

He was a sight for sore eyes underneath you. Lost in the madness and wild from it all. His desire and pleasure were so clear on his face from the way his mouth was parted and the way his eyes admired you, following your every movement.

He used his right hand to help you ram down onto him again and again.

You got on your feet, gaining better leverage than you had had before on your knees, bouncing up and down. You were so, so close; you could feel your orgasm simmering there underneath the surface, you just needed a small push to get there. And Clyde delivered that small push.

“Yer such a good girl, takin’ me so well. You just love bein’ fucked, don’t ye?”

Your walls clamped down on him, legs shaking as you came to a stop, being unable to continue as you fell forward onto his chest, overwhelmed by the pleasure that filled your body.

He received you in his arms, letting his hand caress over your spine as you continued to slightly convulse from your orgasm.

“Such a good girl” He crooned in your ear with a kiss and tug on your lobe.

Clyde wasn’t as sweet when he pinned both your arms to your sides with one of his, holding you in place as he started slamming his hips up into you, chasing his own pleasure.

The sounds that came out of your as he rammed himself in over and over again were indistinguishable. You were gushing around him, your entire body vibrating from another orgasm, but he still didn’t let up. His hips were starting to stutter, however, thrusts being off-pace as he pounded into you.

And then a sharp thrust was accompanied by a husky cry as he ejected deep inside of you. He managed to pump into you a few more times as your walls milked him, your mixed climaxes collecting at his base.

You were exhausted, unable to move so he stayed there, deep inside of you as he grew flaccid.

You thought it was a fuck for the history books.

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

The Magic Reveal fic we deserve, in which Merlin gets as angry as he deserves to get:

Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5

Don’t get me wrong I LOVE a magic reveal with a Merlin who feels bad about lying. I love a reveal with Arthur being furious and Merlin crying but then they talk it out and all is well. I think it's pretty in-character for Merlin to want to see Arthur come to his own conclusions about magic, without being influenced by Merlin’s opinions

BUT I also kinda wanna see Merlin get angry? Like, why should he feel bad about hiding himself in a kingdom where "himself" gets him nothing but a pyre?? Yeah, he and Arthur are close, but unless you've lived with a secret like that (one that will get you shunned, hated, or even killed) then, and I CAN'T STRESS THIS ENOUGH, it doesn't matter How Close you are with someone, how certain you are that they would never hurt you, or care either way, it will almost ALWAYS be scary to tell them. So like. Let Merlin get angry:

I'd say Arthur has been king for maybe a year at this point. He's still a new monarch, still a lot on his plate, BUT also still plenty of time for him to have repealed the ban on magic, or at least started working on it.

But he hasn't.

Granted he hasn't executed anyone in a while (banishments and prison time are the norm, executions are only used nowadays for high treason). BUT the law still remains, it's still technically punishable by death, to be a sorcerer.

Arthur and Merlin have little hunting trips, when Arthur is getting too stressed and losing too much sleep, when he trains the knights too hard and snaps at even Gaius, Merlin (or sometimes even Leon, if they're both being grumpy arseholes) insists that they leave the city for a day or more, to go hunting.

The council have been told it's so the King can keep up with his fitness, can keep familiar with his lands, and keep his skills sharp (he only has enough time to train with the knights a couple times a week nowadays, a far cry from the several hours he used to do every morning without fail), and that keeps them satisfied.

The Gang (the Knights, Gwen, Gaius, and Morgana (she's good in this because that's what I want let me have this)) know the truth, that sometimes the two of them just need a few days to goof off and be themselves, to finally get some time to relax. They'll grab a couple hares and maybe a stag on the way back if they can, so they can at least pretend that's what they've been doing the whole time.

These trips can last anywhere between a day, to two weeks, and Arthur leaves the same set of instructions with the council and the knights every time:

"The safety of Camelot’s people is your highest priority. I leave Sir Leon in charge of everything to do with the knights, patrol, and should any form of conflict arise. If there is an emergency, you are to consult the Inner Council (I don’t know if that's a thing but let's say it is; its The Gang), and send a squire on horseback to fetch me immediately. There's one boy in the troupe who always manages to track me the down the quickest, so make sure he's the one sent, Sir Leon knows who I speak of."

(He's improved over the years, but Arthur is still very... cagey, when it comes to compliments, and his trust. Leon will never mention it, but the fact that Arthur leaves the safety of the kingdom to him, without hesitation or worry, makes him feel greatly honoured. That is the highest form of trust Arthur is capable of giving.)

~

ANYWAY I feel like most of this has just been backstory so let's get into it:

Normally it's Merlin or Leon who demand that the trip needs to happen.

This time

It's Arthur.

Arthur has tried to ignore it (he's trying to get better but he's not great with emotions and stuff, the big dummy) but Merlin has been in a sour mood for weeks now. He's been quiet and withdrawn, snappy, and has been avoiding Arthur whenever possible.

At first it was easy to ignore, when it started a few months ago it was barely noticeable to anyone who didn't know the two of them Very Well, but in the last few weeks it's become a problem.

Arthur reckons a trip might do them some good. Merlin can relax, and will either get over whatever is bothering him, or be comfortable enough to talk to Arthur about it.

So they head out. Merlin doesn't seem too happy about the trip but he doesn’t complain.

(Odd in itself, if Merlin is unhappy about something he usually makes it known.)

The first couple of days are... odd, to say the least. It seems that every time Arthur notices Merlin relax, he quickly tightens up again. One short, joking conversation is followed by a few more hours of painful, awkward silence.

Arthur comes to the daunting realisation, that if he wants to help is friend (and the love of his life but like... baby blondie has hardly reached that conclusion himself, he might need a bit more time on that) is to confront it head on.

So they're settling down in the evening. The fire is roaring, the horses have been fed and watered, dinner has been eaten, and the two of them are sat at opposite ends of the fire (Very Odd, they're usually glued at the hip, especially when it's just the two of them).

Arthur looks at his friend properly for the first times in a while and he Does Not Like what he sees.

Merlin is visibly exhausted, big bags under his eyes, and his skin paler than normal, scowling ever so slightly into the fire. Shoulders tense, and hands gripping each other until the skin on his knuckles is white. And despite all that, Arthur thinks that Merlin looks more sad, than angry.

Maybe Merlin notices Arthur's staring, they hold eye contact for a little while before Merlin becomes sort of... resigned?? To the fact that he's gonna have to have this conversation whether he wants it or not? He goes to say something but before he can, Arthur interrupts him:

"So Merlin. How do you think I'm doing so far?"

(Which is a stupid thing to say, really. But Arthur is, as we've already established, extremely emotionally constipated, and he figures that finding out what's wrong with Merlin indirectly, and then subtly fixing it behind his back, is a far better idea than asking him to his face.)

Merlin clenches his jaw and looks away it this, his reply and his body language clearly sending different messages:

"You know what I think. You're going to be a great king."

Arthur thinks : "(Going to be? I've been king for a year, there's been no war and far fewer attempts on my life than when I was a prince. There's been a good harvest, all diplomatic meetings have gone well, and more peace treaties, and trade agreements, have been signed in the last twelve months, than in the ten years before it. I know I can still do better but... does Merlin not think I'm good?")

Arthur says : "Going to be? I think I'm a pretty great King already if I do say so myself."

"Then why ask? Besides. There are a few things you haven't done."

Merlin's tone is biting, even though he tries to force it out casually. Arthur notices. ”There are a few things you haven't done”... that means something specific.

"Hmm. I suppose. What things did you have in mind then, Merlin?"

Arthur also tries to sound casual, but the question comes out very pointed

Merlin desperately doesn't want to say it out loud, in fear of revealing too much of himself, so he goes with the vague answer of:

"Promises were made. I guess I just figured you weren't the type to break them, that's all. I'm sure you'll get there in time."

Merlin sounds sort of hopeful there. But the sort of hope that he's been living with for years, the sort of hope that has a layer of sadness and resignation laying over the the top like a tablecloth.

Arthur notices:

"Promises?" He doesn’t want to talk too much or too loudly, in fear that Merlin realises that he's speaking openly and clams up again.

Arthur has realised, over the last year or two, that despite their closeness, despite the endless conversations they seem to have, he doesn't really know all that much about Merlin. He knows he doesn’t spend as much time picking herbs, or in the tavern, as he and Gaius would claim. He doesn't know his favourite colour, or season, or holiday. He doesn't know when abouts his birthday is, or what he likes eating. He doesn't know much about his childhood, he's never mentioned his father.

(Despite all this, he's still in love with the idiot, but again, a revelation for another time.)

Merlin responds "To the druids. You promised they would be welcomed, that magic would return. I know your opinions on magic-"

(The manservant visibly shuffles at this, uncomfortable.)

"-but I figured a promise is a promise. Keeping your word had always seemed so important to you. Before."

Arthur notices the past tense. Like Merlin doesn’t believe that Arthur holds importance to his word anymore:

"I'm not my father Merlin. There have been no executions just for the sake of it since I took the crown."

Merlin’s reply comes quickly, in a harsh tone:

"Yes I know that. But your fathers law still remains. It's technically still punishable by execution just to exist as a sorcerer in your kingdom."

(Arthur notices the thinly veiled disgust in Merlin's voice when he mentions Uther. Arthur knew that Merlin disliked the previous king, but he didn’t think he hated him that much.)

Merlin is getting more and more visibly frustrated at this point. Both at Arthur, and the topic of conversation, but also at himself, for letting himself become so worked up over something he'd sworn to keep Arthur away from.

"You really didn't like my Father did you Merlin?" He says it with a chuckle, trying to keep the conversation light and casual.

(This is NOT a conversation that should be light and casual, his friend is in pain, and revealing more of himself than he ever had before, this should be serious. But Arthur isn't quite sure how to do that, so inappropriately light and casual is what he goes for.)

Merlin responds with a quiet, but forceful:

"I hated him. I still do. He's your father, I know that you're not him, and I know you can't help your heritage. But I'll never forgive Uther for what he did. And I'm not angry that he's...gone."

Arthur's very much taken aback at that. He knows everyone has... strong opinions on Uther, but they've never voiced it in front of him.

"Why?? I mean I know he put you in the stocks a couple of times, but so have I to be fair. Why do you hate him so much?"

(This is the point Merlin gets angry. Or angrier. This is when he stops trying to hide it, stops trying to hold it in. Arthur hadn't gotten angry at Merlin for talking about Uther in such a way, he was just curious. Merlin had been planning on telling him the truth at some point anyway, so he might as well do it now, with no one else around, and Arthur in a goodish mood.)

Merlin jumps up, clenching his fists and staring Arthur in the eye for the first time since the start of the conversation, breathing deeply.

Arthur is taken even further aback at Merlin's sudden unwillingness to hide his true reaction to the topic at hand, but he doesn't say anything, and just waits for Merlin’s response

"Why?? Why do I hate him? Maybe because he was blinded fear and selfish hatred."

Merlin stops and looks away, but doesn't sit down, still tense.

I imagine he's waiting for Arthur to say something, but he doesn’t, opting to wait for Merlin to carry on himself, unwilling to remind Merlin exactly who he was talking to, and about what.

After a few moments of silence, Merlin continues, getting angrier with each word as he paces:

"Your father, the Great King Uther, murdered thousands of people. He committed genocide, because he insisted on blaming other people for his own mistakes. He didn't pay attention to the fine print, and killed his own wife and in return, he executes THOUSANDS of MY people. Just for daring to exist. He was so full of hatred, but he, of course, was infallible so it MUST have been someone else's fault. He was incapable of admitting his own mistakes and the injustice that went unpunished is indescribable, he was a tyrant, and a murderer, and I'll never forgive him."

(Arthur knows the truth about what happened to his Ma in this story, I don’t know how, he just does. And it's a topic of conversation he avoids like the plague.)

At the end of his little outburst, Merlin stills. He is shaking as he glares at the floor, and is more furious than Arthur has ever seen him before.

The King notices the little slip up.

"Your people?" He says, so quietly it's a wonder Merlin hears it.

Merlin freezes at this, at the realisation that there's no real way he can play this off. He was planning on telling him at some point anyway. They're miles away from the city in the middle of a large, barely tamed forest. If he needs to run for his life, he could get away easily enough.

"Yes Arthur. My people. You really should've let me speak first."

Arthur is reminded of the fact that Merlin had opened his mouth to say something, before he'd interrupted him at the beginning of the conversation. It felt like it was hours ago now, but it was really only a few minutes.

The King isn’t nearly as shocked as he thinks he should be. He knew there was something odd and secretive about Merlin, and he'd considered that he might have magic in the early days, but that hadn't been a genuine consideration for years.

He wants to be angry, and selfish, and furious at Merlin for lying to him all this time. But after hearing Merlin’s little speech, does he really have any right to? 

Yes, Arthur hadn't executed any sorcerers, but he also hadn't changed the law. He hadn't stood up to his father and he certainly hadn't tried to stop the executions before he was King himself. Can he really blame Merlin? For being scared? For being angry?

"You're a sorcerer." It's not a question. It's a statement. In his mind he knows the truth, but it needs to be confirmed, out loud, by Merlin himself, before they can move the conversation on.

"Yes."

And that's all he says. Arthur waits. And when he's tired of waiting, when he realises that Merlin isn't just gonna carry on talking this time, he speaks up:

"And?"

"And what, Arthur? What do you want me to say? That I'm sorry I lied? Yes, I feel bad for lying to you, but I'll never apologise for protecting myself in a kingdom that would see me burn. And I would do it again in a heartbeat"

Arthur nods. He's tense, but he notices that he isn't scared and he wonders why, after all, as far as he was aware magic had only (almost only) caused him pain and fear. 

(In the back of his mind he knows why he's not scared. Merlin doesn't have an evil bone in his body, and he's met the druids, he knows that some magic users are peaceful.)

He looks up at Merlin to see him staring at him, a sort of challenging look on his face, like he was daring Arthur to prove him right. Daring him to be selfish, and angry, and just like his father.

But when Arthur looks deeper. Really Looks at Merlin. He sees the fear, Arthur has no doubt in his mind that Merlin could escape, or even fight him off, now, if he needed to. But Merlin is scared.

If that wasn't enough to break Arthur's heart, the quick glance that Merlin throws to the space a few feet from Arthur's side, is.

Arthur looks over slowly, eyebrows furrowed, to see what Merlin glanced at so fearfully. His heart shatters when he realises what it is. Arthurs sword, sat underneath his bag, just out of his reach. Merlin thinks Arthur is going to kill him. Merlin is scared. Of Arthur.

Arthur looks back at Merlin, disbelief and gut wrenching sadness on his face. He resists the urge to jump up (knowing it would just panic Merlin) as he speaks, trying to keep his tone calming, but it comes out rushed and desperate anyway:

"I'm not going to hurt you Merlin, I swear. I'm...sorry, if my actions and words have led you to believe that I would EVER see any harm come to you."

It's over the last minute, the anger and fear from Merlin, that forces Arthur to realise the legacy he's dealing with. That Uther had done so much damage, had struck so much fear into Merlin, that it didn't matter how close they were. Any subtle, deliberate ignorance of the law wasn’t enough. Any small compliments, or defence of Merlin, wasn't enough.

As long as the law remained, as long as Arthur left his fathers legacy intact, with not even a small attempt to dismantle it, Merlin would be scared of him.

Merlin relaxes only slightly at Arthur's words, gulps, and glances once more at the sword before sitting down again. He’s still tense as he stares into the fire once more.

"All these years you've been putting your life at risk, to stay at my side. You could've quit at any time. You could've stayed in the relative safety of Ealdor, but you didn't. Why? I want to know everything Merlin. You... you mean a great deal to me, and it pains me to see you in fear. And I know it's no one’s fault but my own, and I want to fix it. So the whole story, from the beginning, I want to know."

It's Merlin’s turn to be taken aback now. In his mind, everything he's said and done in the last few minutes should be making Arthur angry. The disrespect of Uther, the tone of voice he had taken, the shouting. All of that even before the admittance of his greatest secret. But still Arthur wasn't angry, he was confused, and maybe hadn't quite processed it yet, but mostly he was just sad, sad that Merlin had to be angry on his own. Sad that Merlin had to be fearful on his own.

So he does. He starts at the beginning. His mother sending him to Camelot so Gaius could train him. Saving Arthurs life that first banquet. Saving his life again a few days later. And again. And again. And again

He talks about all the small insignificant magicks he did: cheating at dice games and keeping Arthur's bath water warm and making sure the fire stays lit through the night and helping the knights sleep when they're out and about.

He talks about all the big magicks he did: killing Nimueh and being the last Dragon-Lord and Balinor being his father, and all the great battles he had won and all the times he'd saved Arthur when Arthur hadn't even realised he'd been in danger.

He talks about everything in between. About every lucky fallen branch and every lucky rockslide and every lucky solution that wouldn't have worked without Merlin... nudging it in the right direction.

He talks and talks and talks until his throat is sore. And Arthur stays silent, unwilling to interrupt, listening intently and saving any questions and queries until the end.

After an hour or so, Merlin hesitates, but Arthur can tell that there's something else. Something he's not saying. Something that in Merlin's mind, is the scariest truth of all. So he stays silent, and waits for Merlin to continue:

"The old man that you think killed your father. Dragoon, the sorcerer who kept popping up but was never in the same room as me? That was me, in disguise."

He looks nervous at this and looks up at Arthur. Before, he'd been explaining everything with a blank but resolute look on his face, still staring into the fire (that hadn't been fed in well over an hour, but was still going strong).

Arthur just looks surprised, he'd never considered that Dragoon had been anyone but himself.

"I tried Arthur. I may have hated your father but I tried to save him. But the pendant around his neck stopped it from working and healing magic has never been my strong point anyway. I really did try."

Arthur nods at this. He figured there had been no reason for the old sorcerer to kill his father, and after consulting Gaius and realising the truth about the pendant, he didn't blame him. Though he never told anyone, not even Merlin, why would he? His manservant had never even met the guy.

"I know. I'm sorry, it can’t have been easy, thinking I blamed you for his death all these months. I'm sorry Merlin."

Merlin looks surprised but quietly grateful. Over the course of the last hour of explanation he had slowly become more and more relaxed, realising that Arthur really meant it when he said he wasn't going to hurt him, and just wanted the truth.

Merlin was still scared, and a big part of him still believed he'd probably be banished at the least at the end of this conversation. But it still felt good to get it off his chest.

"But you still haven't answered my question. Why? We didn't know each all that well those first few weeks. Months even. We practically hated each other at the beginning. But you stayed anyway. Despite hating me and despite being in constant danger. Why?"

Merlin once again hesitates at this. He tried his best but even after all these years, he's not quite sure how to navigate conversations about destiny, especially his own, and especially how it's tied so intrinsically with Arthur’s.

Instead he says:

"What do you know about Emrys?" He really needs a starting reference for this part of the conversation, and at this point, the best way to get it is to ask directly.

Arthur goes to question why, but Merlin has been nothing but honest and straight forward with him, so he trusts that it’s important, and answers truthfully:

"Not much. A few Druids have mentioned him to me before. Apparently they've been seeing him in prophetic dreams for centuries, the Druids have quite a few "seers" in their ranks. He's meant to be some great sorcerer, whose destiny it is to bring Magic and peace to Albion, with some King or other at his side. I never payed much attention to it, I hardly believe in visions of the future."

Merlin nods at that:

"You've got most of it. Emrys is meant to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past, present, and future. When Uther started culling sorcerers, an astronomical amount of magic was poured back into the earth all at once. The Triple Goddess took that magic and put it all in one place, in one unborn baby, in the hope that said baby would grow into his power, and restore balance and compassion to the world. The Druids call him Emrys but it's just a title, like King, or Sir, not his real name. He, and the Once and Future King, are meant to rule with the support of one another, uniting all of Albion under the King’s rule, and bringing magic back into the land. Emrys and the Forever King, two sides of the same coin, their destinies interwoven."

Merlin goes silent at that, and Arthur thinks he knows where this is going, but he Needs the confirmation:

"What's that got to do with anything?" is quietly muttered.

"You're the Forever King Arthur. And I am Emrys. Though it's weird enough when the druids call me that so just... let's stick with Merlin alright?"

"All those times you said I would be a great King, all those times you had unfailing faith in me, was because of destiny?"

Arthur tries not so sound hurt, but he’s never cared for, or believed, in destiny. Up until now he'd thought Merlin had had faith in him as Arthur, his friend, not as some prophetic Once and Future King that Arthur was afraid he would never be.

"At first, sure. I was angry, that my destiny had been decided for me. That I couldn't just ignore it because if I did then the world would never know peace. I never asked for that responsibility I just wanted... I just wanted to keep my mother safe. I wanted to learn how to be a physician and use my magic to help and entertain and brighten the world. Just a little bit. And suddenly I had this big important role to play. I hated it. But I did it anyway, kept you safe. And then I got to know you as a person and you weren't your father. You Love Camelot, you Love your people, you're a good man who does everything in his power to help those around him, even if they don't deserve it sometimes. And suddenly, having my destiny be to help you to greatness... well, it didn't seem so bad anymore. Maybe it was your destiny to be that Great King from prophecy, because you were already a good man."

Arthur is speechless at that. Tears gather in his eyes but neither of them mention it and he doesn't let them fall. Merlin had been almost as nice as that in the past, but never so fully, and with the weight of the truth behind it, it seemed much more meaningful.

Merlin gives him a sad smile before he continues:

"I'm your servant until the day I die Arthur. I have faith that one day, you'll do the right thing."

Arthur suddenly remember the whole point of this conversation. That Merlin was upset and angry that he hadn't repealed the ban on magic yet, that Merlin was still waiting on him. Waiting on him to do the right thing. Waiting on him to fulfil his destiny.

~

Maybe they head straight home? Merlin walks into Arthur's chambers the next morning to find him already up and pacing, making a start on the repeal?

Maybe Arthur demands they go to the closest Druid settlement so he can consult them on how he should go about it? Merlin’s knowledge of magic is great and all, but neither of them were alive before the purge, neither know how it would work practically.

All I know, is whenever Merlin first comes across Arthur working on the repeal, determination in his eyes, he cries a little. That everything he sacrificed is finally paying off.

I also know, that the first time Arthur timidly asks Merlin to show him something magical (maybe that's straight after this tiring conversation, or maybe its days later, back in the safety of Arthur's locked chambers) Merlin cries even harder, Arthur is still scared of magic, how could he not be. But he loves and trusts Merlin more than anything in this world, and he wants to learn to not be scared anymore.

~

THIS IS COMPLETED!!

All 5 parts have been posted:)

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific, let me know✌

[potter-imagines]

Staying at the Burrow with your boyfriend Fred Weasley...

-       Fred loathed his time away from Hogwarts on any break that you weren’t with him

-       Since the Christmas of your fourth year, it has become a sort of tradition for you to going your boyfriend and his family for the holidays

-       And if you would even suggest a change in plans, Fred would beg you otherwise

-       “Y/n pleaseeee, angel? I already told my mum that you’re coming, and she already started knitting! You’ll break her heart!” “Okay fine, I’ll come but only for Molly.”

-       It means the absolute world to Fred that you love his family and that his family loves you

-       Ginny would await your arrival by the front door, practically buzzing with excitement

-       Every time you visit the Burrow, you make sure to bring gifts for his family

-       Your favorite person to give presents to is Arthur

-       You always bring him some new muggle object that never fail to fascinate him

-       “Oh, Molly! Y/n’s here- ooh I wonder what she’s brought for me this time! I hope it’s one of those clicky writers!” “You mean a pen, dear.” “Yes, yes, Molly, a pem!” “Arthur, no-“

-       Most breaks Harry would also tag along which meant more players for your quidditch games

-       Fred and George were usually team captain

-       Fred always picked you first for his team

-       Unless George got to pick first

-       He would pick you just in spite of Fred, which usually caused petty bickering between the twins

-       “Bloody hell, George! You pinky promised me you wouldn’t pick Y/n! You said I could have her-“ “Freddie, you spend almost 24 hours a day with her. She’s just on my team for one game!”

-       George would playfully torture you two during the whole break with comments here and there

-       “Hey dad, I saw Fred sneak Y/n into our room last night.” “George!” “…let’s just not tell your mother, understood?”

-       Doing the dishes with Fred and having a bubble fight

-       George wasn’t lying tho

-       Fred would sneak you into his room almost every night

-       Molly had caught you two a few times but she never brought it up

-       Fred was nearly 18 and Molly absolutely adored you

-       So she’d smile to herself and pretend she never saw a thing

-       Going on walks with Ron and Harry

-       A lot of cute little moments with Fred

-       Like him giving you his sweater when you get cold at night

-       He likes to draw pictures on your back when you’re cuddling as you try to guess what it is

-       “Uh… I’m not sure, is it a flower?” “No, angel. It was an owl! Okay now guess this one…”

-       George would constantly whisper shout at the two of you when he’s trying to sleep

-       “Can you lovesick puppies shut up! Some of us are single and would rather be miserable in peace. I can’t handle all the cute lovey whispers, it’s bloody sickening! I’m ready to share a bed with Percy- that’s how bad it is.”

-       This would cause Fred and yourself to erupt with laughter much to George’s displeasure

-       Sneaking around the house to have some *cough* private time

-       Making out in his backyard

-       Fred doesn’t like when you go for walks alone outside the house

-       Times are tense and you’re the last person, besides a family member, that he could afford to lose

-       He’ll always walk by your side and crack jokes just so he can hear you laugh

-       Whether he realizes it or not, whenever you two go walking together Fred will always hold your hand and swing it back and forth

-       He loves kissing your knuckles and the back of your hand

-       He’s honestly so sweet when he’s not putting 24 hour color changing hair dye in your shampoo

-       You’ve spent so many Christmas’ at the Weasley’s that Molly has a stocking for you and a gift ready every time

-       Fred purposely places mistletoes around the house for you two to ‘conveniently’ meet under

-       “Fred! You know I’m your girlfriend so you can kiss me whenever, right?” “But this is more romantic, darling! You’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed under a mistletoe- and the only, and last girl I want to kiss for my whole life. I’d like to continue that tradition.” “Well how can I say no to that?”

-       Fred will literally take any chance offered to kiss you

-       George loves to annoy the two of you by squeezing in the middle of your cuddles

-       “George! You git, get out of here!” “But I need some love too!” “Yeah, find it with a girl who isn’t my girlfriend!”

-       Fred will make you coffee or tea each morning, whichever you prefer

-       Making hot chocolate together for the whole family during winters at the Burrow

-       Marshmallow mustaches

-       You kiss the marshmallows off Fred’s mouth, running your tongue along his upper lips which causes a deep scarlet blush to slap his cheeks

-       “How do you like it when the tables are turned, Fred?” “I quite like it actually… that was hot.” “Fred!”

-       During winter, you guys will have snowball fights outside with all the Weasley siblings plus Harry, and Hermione

-       You and Fred have a competition on who can make the biggest snow man

-       Your relationship is built off humor, friendship, and love so there is not a day that passes by where tears aren’t pouring from your eyes out of laughter

-       Fred likes to wake you up by jumping on you and attacking your face with little pecks

-       “Wake up, angel! I’ve been waiting ten minutes for you to get up but I couldn’t wait any longer now c’mon!”

-       Fred loves to watch you get ready for the day

-       Oddly enough, his favorite part is your makeup routine (if you wear any)

-       It’s such a foreign world to him, he’s amazed by all the different products and how you can tell them all apart

-       “Freddie, baby, can you hand me my mascara?” “Uh... sure?”

-       Hands you your concealer

-       He just wants to help!

-       He teaches you how to ice skate out on the pond

-       Loves kissing your frozen red cheeks when you two come inside after being in the snow

-       Will boop your nose

-       You spend a lot of time with Ginny on breaks

-       She looks up to you greatly, so she gets so excited when you stay with the Weasley’s

-       “Y/n, Y/n, you’re here! Come, put your stuff in my room! We can have a sleepover-“ “Wow, Ginny, hadn’t realized Y/n was your girlfriend and not mine.” “Shut up, Fred.”

-       You help Fred and George play pranks on differently family members

-       Molly is typically the only one that is immune from these pranks

-       All three of you are far too terrified to make her angry

-       You will often rummage through Fred’s closet instead of opening your suitcase

-       And when he catches you in the act

-       Fred will chase you around the house

-       “That’s my jumper! Oh you’re in for it, Y/l/n!”

-       Some days at the Burrow, Fred and you barely get out of bed

-       Especially on rainy days

-       The sound of raindrops pounding against the roof of the house was comforting, the warm embrace of Fred had that effect on its own even without the rain

-       Maybe once a trip, you guys will take the car into town

-       It’s a bit of a drive so the Weasley’s don’t like to make more trips than necessary

-       Molly refuses to hand the keys to either of the twins and will only give them to you

-       She doesn’t trust the twins not the wreck the car

-       Every trip to the Burrow, you find yourself growing closer to your boyfriend

-       You spend every day together at school, but being outside of the castle is a little different

-       You have more freedom, more choices

-       It makes the both of you thrilled about graduating and moving in together

-       Fred can’t wait for the day he is able to spend every day with you by his side 

[daydream-believin]

MERLIN’S APPRENTICE & MERLIN’S CHAMPION || trollhunters

warnings: swearing

a/n: if rott gave me anything it gave me this idea

I KNOW I SAID “JUICY” BUT REALLY THAT WAS JUST THE ANGST POTENTIAL,, THAT IM NOT INDULGING IN THIS POST IM SORRY LMAO

OKAY WHAT IM REALLY TALKING BOUT HERE IS A GOOD MERLIN/ARTHUR BUT IT ACTUALLY WORKS

no sorry i haven’t seen bbc merlin don’t come for me i’m ignorant

OKAY SO

we know douxie kept an eye on the human trollhunter and co

but douxie’s really having a hard time convincing himself he’s just doing his job

he’s actually enjoying this a little too much despite how boring staying in the shadows is

and he’s kinda worried?

so he’s got this bright idea: you know what would better help him keeps tabs? if he befriends this person

and so he does

fuck merlin’s shadows

sod the rules

ofc he’s very up front about knowing they’re the trollhunter and that he’s merlin’s apprentice

we wouldn’t want that to become a huge festering secret that eats douxie from the inside out until the inevitable reveal when merlin calls them both to help with the arcane order and they realize they’ve both been lying to each other’s faces for months/years and neither of them know if they could ever trust the other again, right? — phew *catches breath*

but before you know it, mr. casperan and mx. trollhunter are best friends

he’s basically the toby to your jim

and you’re very happy to have a best friend like douxie

he understands that monster hunting hustle

he’s the only person you can vent to and actually talk about what’s going on without sounding like a loon

and douxie likes being able to tell someone all his frustrations with merlin, since you’re also in that boat with him

you spar sometimes. it’s fun, but you’re very careful not to accidentally hurt your friend (he’s extremely careful not to hurt you or wound your ego by effortlessly wiping you out)

ofc, there’s the occasional, brushing of hands, faces a little too close together, accidentally winding up on top of one another, purposefully winding up on top of one another 👀 you know how sparring be

you and douxie are a duo. a duo who have become trollmarket’s resident troublemakers, to vendel’s exasperation

you guys tease each other a lot

you do a lot of stupid shit, cause hey, now you have magic armor and a magic sword and a magic best friend, did you think you wouldn’t get up to some shenanigans?

douxie is your impulse control and he’s not a very good one, as he’s just as bad

truthfully archie has the brain cell

and pranks? gods the pranks. you two are always either pranking each other or you’re teaming up to prank some other troll who said smth mean to you in the pub. vendel had to personally put a stop to it (read: chew you out)

doux thinks the world of you tho, you’re such a noble knight, and likes to tell people about how you’re a cinnamon roll, so innocent, so pure

and then they meet you and you directly contradict those statements

trollhunter: i’ve never done anything wrong in my life, ever

douxie: i know this and i love you

(spoiler: you’ve done lots and lots of wrong)

doux spends an awful lot of time slinking around trollmarket now, and he’s in the know for everything that’s happening

(no more being kept in the dark for this wizard apprentice)

and doux knows merlin won’t completely approve of this, but hey, it’s not like he’s helping and thus directly disobeying

really, he’s not helping you at all, it’s really fucking annoying

okay so mayyybe the occasional healing spell. you’ve got those puppy dog eyes he can’t say no to

but you understand his sense of duty, or whatever it is that drives a follower, technically being a follower of merlin yourself

you respect the old geezer (as you have not been turned into a half-troll yet) as a wise mythical figure, and as your best friend’s father

and what a perfect match you are for each other, champion and apprentice, mutually being screwed over by a guy you both think has all the answers

you and douxie help each other grow in your self-worths, that you two are more than the chances merlin has given to you

unfortunately, mortifyingly, you have caught feelings.

douxie has also caught feelings, and is saying nothing yep you have enough on your plate without him putting this on you so he’ll just quietly pine and suffer don’t mind him choking to death in the corner when you take off your helmet and throw back your hair

y’all’s problem really starts manifesting itself as protectiveness. you are really protective of your wizard and he is really protective of his knight

lots of things said that are Not What Friends Say but neither of you really want to be the one to point that out

lots and lots of i love yous that slowly get more and more serious until it’s not exactly platonic anymore

and it’s just really nice to have someone to get coffee (or your favored hot drink) with at four in the morning after a tussle with a troll

and that’s basically how you and douxie spend the bulk of trollhunters, just vibing

as much as you can vibe, with all the changelings and shit trying to murder you all the time

then merlin wakes up and shakes up your world

you are aware of your impending doom

you’re aware of it

merlin keeps looking you up and down like he’s mentally making up the measurements of your coffin

and tbh the idea of fighting gunmar freaks you tf out

and you’re supposed to win that fight?

gods

you’re preparing for your nightmares coming true soon

truthfully you knew your fucking job had a 100% mortality rate

you don’t want to die with regrets

so

you spill

you spill all the things you’d wanted to tell him and how much he means to you and that you couldn’t bear it if you were a goner before he knew

miraculously, douxie feels the same and tells you all the things he’d been holding back and and what you mean to him and how much he wants to protect you, that you’re gonna make it, if he had anything to say about it

and everything is perfect for one night

now you have a real reason to win

not that saving humanity isn’t a big responsibility on your shoulders and definitely A Reason

but knowing douxie’s waiting for you, for the life you’ll build together after this, the peace you’ll both have, it’s absolutely a big motivation to give your all and come out victorious and survive

hahaha loser you don’t know about the arcane order

and then merlin uses your microwave to cook a weird potion

you and merlin are alone in the house, but there’s no real mind games necessary. you may have grown past thinking he was a god, but in the end, you’re still a follower of merlin, and if merlin thinks this could give you an edge, well, who are you to question his methods

doesn’t mean you aren’t nervous as your master hands you the bottle

yet you don’t even hesitate to drown yourself in the black abyss of the tub

whatever it takes amirite?

and now you’re a half-troll

a sexy half-troll, if you do say so yourself

yeah, no ‘i’m a monster’ angst here, you’re loving the power-up

you’ve got to treat it like a cool new power-up or you will cry actually tbh i lied about the no-angst thing a new body is disorienting

your only real concern is douxie

not concerned for long tho, he sees you and the first thing out of his mouth is “nuclear!”

and he senses your concern, so he does go out of his way to assure you that boy, girl, enby, or half-troll, he loves you for your soul, darling

also again half-troll! you is hot as hell so he’s not really losing anything here 👀

he makes sure you know that too, not to let any insecurities fester

him raking his eyes up and down you gives the opposite effect of the dread merlin sent down your spine doing it

anyways,,,

doux helps out a lot more in the eternal night

like helps merlin re-defeat and re-seal morgana

he’ll do it again in few weeks but with a bigger role you know, this is practice

thank merlin for that edge YOU ARE THE LAST TROLLHUNTER YOU ARE VICTORIOUS YOUVE GOT GUNMARS HEAD IN YOUR HANDS HAHAHA

but now you’ve got to go to new jersey

douxie’s been instructed to stay in arcadia tho 🥺

it’s okay, you’ll see each other again soon

sooner than you realize

and until then you talk each other to sleep every night over the phone <3

merlins glad, actually. he’s glad hisirdoux found some solace. even if it is with the lamb he was raising for the slaughter. maybe things will go okay for them. the time map suggests it might be so

hisirdoux may have done things in a way he didn’t quite approve of, but that’s because he’s becoming his own wizard, and merlin is proud

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 151

This chapter has been one that I have been dying to write for a while. I was worried that @baelpenrose would resist the idea, but he very much thought it was hilarious. As always, his input and riffing on this chapter has very much made it better and better.

However, it also made the chapter longer, lol. But there is just no way to trim it down without losing something that makes it all work, so this week is nearly double my normal length... break everyone’s heart, right? ;)

“I don’t like these numbers,” Parvati grumbled - as much as she was capable of grumbling - as she scrolled through the final counts of approval ratings on her and Hannah’s inaugural Food Festival.

The statistics had been dropped into our inboxes that morning, in the static of about a thousand other notifications now that Derek had finished the stress-test. Also included were the results of the last three invasion-prep drills, which I was in the process of scanning over.

“How bad are they?” I asked, half listening for a number. The drills were trending better, which was a good sign that the moves were effective.

Dismissing her display with a gesture of disgust, she sighed. “Seventy-four percent approval rating.”

I arched a brow and glanced over. “Did you adjust for those who did not attend?”

The glare she sent me wasn’t seen so much as felt. “Of course I did. First thing I ran…”

“Are you filtering by the day the comments came in?”

“I -” Bingo. She huffed. “No! These are intended to be ratings for the entirety of the event!”

I started scrolling through my own statistics. “Chart them out by the date the ratings came in, filtering out everyone who didn’t actually attend.”

A pause. “Oh… Oh! It’s showing ninety-three-point-four now!”

“Et voila,” I murmured. Louder, I clarified, “People like to weigh in early, and those who object in general tend to speak first.”

“I see that… how’s it going over there?” she asked, smoothing her braid over her shoulder as she turned to look at me directly.

“We are improving with every drill, marked upticks since the relocations. Arthur should be here in about - “ I glanced at a clock, “Seven minutes to go over next steps.”

Alistair breezed over to swap my empty bulb of cold coffee for a fresh one of water. “The appointment is in fifteen minutes.”

Parvati beat me to the punch.  “He is also compulsively early, meaning…. Six minutes now.”

He rolled his eyes hard enough that I wanted to giggle. “He doesn’t even have the decency to be fashionably late. Appalling.”

Surely enough, Arthur paged at the entrance - out of some sort of manners I accidentally instilled in him - exactly five minutes prior to our scheduled appointment. As he breezed into my office, he managed a half-assed glare at Alistair for abruptly turning away and focusing on my schedule rather than his usual tendency to get a beverage for any newcomers. “Okay, updated data on drills isn’t what I want it to be.”

I laughed. “You’re joking, right? Your team and Michael’s haven’t gotten past deck four by more than three percent in the last seven exercises.”

“Any percent above zero is unacceptable,” he grumbled. I chalked it up to the indignity of being forced to get his own tea from the console.

Almost as though to spite Arthur, Alistair made a point to set a refreshed water bulb in front of everyone except the professor. “There are guards on the other levels for a reason,” he suggested drily.

“And I would rather those guards be idle, thank you,” Arthur threw back in a near-venomous tone.

“Us guards would rather be prepared for any eventuality, which you may do well to plan for in your petty drills.”

I didn’t even try to intervene. Clearly there was some blatantly disagreement between my  admin and my friend, and I was exhausted from trying to make them cooperate.

“If I’m doing my job, you should be so grateful as to be idle,” Arthur drawled.

Alistair scoffed. “As if being left to rest and get fatter than a Christmas goose is a blessing…”

“You’ll live longer!”

“And get lax in my duties, which I will not stand for!”

“Get fat! Get lazy! LIVE! I don’t care! I’m not going to be lax in my duties to allow you the opportunity of getting practice at fighting.” Standing, Arthur buried both hands in his hair, but it looked less like he was running his fingers through it than pulling on it. “Are we really discussing this when we are training to fight in living body condoms?”

“I need to defend the Archives!”

“And Michael and I need to defend everyone! Us doing our job means you don’t need to do yours.”

My neck snapped back at the vehemence in his tone. This wasn’t their normal sparring… they may have never truly gotten along, but even in the beginning it was never so vicious.

To my further alarm, Alistair took a long stride forward and stared down his nose at Arthur. ��We both know that she - “ his hand flung out to point at me “is either the luckiest or unluckiest person in existence. You can’t really believe that, in an actual assault on this ship, that she won’t be in danger. Which will place Tyche, the Archives, Derek Okafor, and Samuel Richardson in equal danger. You aren’t an idiot, you know this.” The hand pointing toward me turned, and time seemed to slow down as he stabbed Arthur in the sternum with it, punctuating each of his next words. “Stop lying to yourself.”

“Poke me again, and the finger comes off.”

“I would dearly love to see you try.”

Hannah and Parvati had jumped to their feet when Alistair approached Arthur, but were now slowly moving around to my position, safely behind my desk. Hannah hissed at me through clenched teeth, “You had to tell them to fight it out.”

“I thought they would use a gym, not the damned office,” I hissed back.

Before she could respond, Alistair spoke again. “You aren’t the only one on the Ark who wants to protect everyone. You need to trust us to do our bloody jobs.”

“The last time I trusted anyone else to protect people, I lost fourteen students,” came the ground out response. “I’m not backing down on this.”

“You will, or I will sedate you and strap you to a medical berth for the next four months.” Alistair stepped back and crossed his arms with finality.

A trickle of nerves ran down my spine as I watched Arthur clench his fists and release them. “You think the solution to everything is to tie it up, I swear.”

“Stop changing the topic. I am deadly serious, Farro.”

Arthur turned away from him, waving him off. “Try something else, you would never just sedate me for months on end.” Before we could stop anything, Alistair leapt forward and put Arthur in a headlock, only to be immediately flipped over the other man’s shoulder and onto the table. “Tch. Sloppy. I know you can do better.”

“I thought you wanted me to get fat and lazy,” Alistair grunted as he sucker-punched Arthur in the stomach and rolled for the other side.  Once on his feet, he eyed Arthur carefully as he circled the table. “You stubborn ass, you know I am right.  You are putting everyone in the lower levels at risk by not running preparedness drills with them, because you don’t want to factor in the fact that one of the offensive teams could fail.”

“We don’t have the luxury of failing, so no. If we do our jobs correctly, everyone who matters will be safe at the other end of the Ark.”

They didn’t seem to be at each other’s throats anymore, but the arguing wasn’t getting anywhere. “Guys - “ I tried.

Both men turned and practically screamed at me with their glares to stop talking.  Oookay. I held up my hands in surrender and decided to let them sort it out their way.

Damned if the console wasn’t on the other side of them, though. I couldn’t even get popcorn and a drink.

Alistair blew a harsh breath through his nose. “If you won’t include the lower decks in your drills, I will start sparring with Jokul.”

“He would kill you,” Arthur barked in the most miserable laugh I’ve ever heard.

“God forbid,” Alistair mocked. “If I were gone, who would make your tea in the morning.”

“The same person who picks up the socks that magically appear all over my quarters every day, obviously. Worthington, I’m serious, he could really hurt you. He has really hurt me. And Charly.”

That last part was dismissed with a wave. “Madam Charles the First put the fear of herself into him.”

“And you haven’t. He could kill you by accident, and he’d never forgive himself.”

“Maybe that wouldn’t be the case if you would let me train more!”

Arthur groaned and ran a hand down his face. “You are an adult, we’ve talked about this. Train all you want, with whoever you want - Charly, Sophia, Tyche… hell, train with Evan or Michael, I don’t care. Just, not Jokul.”

When did they talk about this? I wondered. It had to be during a sparring session or something, because it definitely wasn’t in my office during one of our meetings. A glance at Hannah showed she was watching everything unfold like it was the most riveting show she had ever seen, and Parvati’s squint of consideration wasn’t much better.

“As you said, I’m an adult. Perhaps I should take your advice, and train with Charly - “

“See - “

“- and Jokul. She will make sure I don’t get hurt.”

Arthur flung his hands up in frustration. “You are so stubborn, I swear!” Growling, he paced in a circle. “Fine! Train with Charly and Jokul. IN the bivouac suit, though! And I don’t want to hear a word when you end up confined in a med bay yourself.”

Alistair’s smug grin showed just how much he seemed to care. “At least I would be spared of picking up the trail of dishes that seem to follow you around.”

“For the love of - they are my quarters! Mine! And I don’t want to hear about it when your bloody socks are constantly getting lost behind my sofa!”

Oh. Oh no. Nonononononono.

“My socks can go wherever they fucking want to, when I am constantly cleaning your disgusting whiskers out of the sink!”

“You know what would fix you having to clean whiskers out of the sink? I could just stop shaving altogether. How about...that…” Arthur trailed off and very slowly turned toward the three of us behind my desk with a look of dawning horror.

And I tried. I really, really tried not to laugh.  I could feel my face reddening, my chest aching with the effort of holding it in.  

Hannah’s snort was my undoing. As soon as that tiny noise escaped her, all three of us erupted into hysterical, stomach-cramping, tearful laughter.  I felt stabbing in my arm as Parvati dug her nails in, trying desperately not to fall.  Unfortunately for her, Hannah grabbed me at the same time and all three of us toppled to the floor. The sight of Arthur rolling his eyes and crossing his arms only made me escalate from laughing to shrieking in hysterics and relief.

I couldn’t speak for the other two ladies, but I thought the two men were going to end up killing each other… At no point did I think they took the other option when I told them to either fight it out or….

I gasped for breath, trying to get myself under control. Wobbling to my feet with the help of my trusty desk and a couple yanks to free my shirt from Parvati’s desperate clutching, I pointed between them. “This… how long? Can’t believe… didn’t figure it out.”

“Not everyone is as… public… as you, Conor, and Maverick are,” Arthur snarked at me. “You know, private lives should be private and all that?”

“Must be for you,” I confided in Alistair’s direction, where he had turned his back to our fit.  “He’s never not told me when he was dating someone. Or thinking of dating someone. Or potentially interested in seeing if he was interested in dating someone… Best friend privileges and all that.”  While I waited for Alistair to respond, my mind whirled through all the things I had brushed off before but were very obvious in retrospect.

Glancing at Arthur for a hint yielded nothing but a flat stare that all but declared in flashing lights You Aren’t Stupid.

I tilted my head at that, and kept thinking. There had been genuine animosity on Alistair’s side in the beginning, and not a small amount of needling on Arthur’s.  So I knew it wasn’t something that had always been going on. My mind came to a screeching halt, however, when I remembered something - the day Alistair, Tyche, and I decided that, when I vacated my position on the Council, they would vacate roles as well to leave behind a ‘clean slate’. “Four years, holy shit,” I gasped. “Four years!?”

Finally, Alistair moved. His back was still to us, but his arms went limp by his sides, and his head dropped down toward the floor. “It would be unseemly to have the new Councilor of Education in a relationship with the attache to the Councilor for Resources and Engagement. Or formerly in a relationship, should things not end well.”

“And since he won’t be taking his position until we are on Von,” I put together, “You are okay to serve out the rest of my term, just not Hannah’s or Parvati’s.”

“Correct.”

“Huh. That makes sense,” I admitted before hopping up to sit on my desk, the chair being a lost cause on the other side of two women who were still sniffling and giggling on the floor. “I learned a lot today.”

“Uh huh,” Arthur confirmed drily. “And it had better stay in this office.”

“What?” I managed a pretty convincing confused face before pretending to realize what he meant. “Oh! The relationship thing. Yeah, cool, whatever. That’s not what I was talking about, but you’re good.”

“Dare I even ask what you meant?” Alistair ventured, finally turning around so that he could give me a warning look.

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” I asked, shaking my head and spreading my hands, palms up. When they both just stared at me, I finally broke and grinned. “Dude. You two are freaking slobs.”

The squeaking noises coming from the vicinity of my feet told me that no further work would be getting done for the rest of the day.

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[comfortwriting]

Whatever It Takes - F.W

Part 3 of the ‘Call Out My Name’ series, inspired by the song ‘Whatever It Takes’ by Life House. 

Part 1, Part 2

A/N: Ahhh here it is, sorry for the long wait! The finale of my first mini series, I hope you lovelies enjoy and thank you for the support!<33

Warnings: Mentions of sex, smut, fluff, angst, jealously and swearing.

Pulling away from the kiss you couldn’t process what you had done, trying to catch your breath your glassy eyes got lost in Fred's. The last time you kissed him felt like forever ago and just like that, you were back to square one; hungry for him.

You looked at your feet and sighed “meet me at my apartment, go now and don’t let my parents see you” you ordered him “we’ll... talk things through.”

Before you managed to pick up your box and go back downstairs to you parents, Fred grabbed your wrist and kissed your hand “you won’t regret this.”

Once you met him in your apartment, the two of you were up all night talking things through; Fred mostly apologising and explaining that you were the one all along. Although you were seeing someone else, it felt right to be with Fred, the kiss felt right, everything felt somewhat perfectly in place.

You finished writing the letter to your now ex-boyfriend, explaining that you couldn’t and didn’t want to be with him anymore and that you were sorry, you hoped it would be enough for him to accept.

After keeping your re-lighting of an old flame with Fred secret for the first few months, when you finally decided to break the news your parents and your sister weren’t over the moon - and your now ex-boyfriend was heartbroken and hated Fred with a burning passion; cursing the two of you.

The Weasleys on the other hand, were all delighted and so excited to welcome you back into their life and warm home. Molly and Arthur promised your parents that they would do anything and everything to ensure that you would be happy and safe with their son.

George ran towards you and held you tight into his warm embrace, crying with happiness that he could have his best friend back that he wouldn’t need to hide from anyone anymore; you could finally meet up and go out for lunch together every week which you had missed so much.

Fred knew that making things right, fixing things wouldn’t be easy, he had to prove himself to your family, he needed to show you how much he loved you after everything he had done - he also had to deal with the other people you had slept with whilst he was busy playing house.

“Well I still don’t like him.” Your father muttered under his breath sitting with you on the sofa, flicking through the Daily Prophet.

Fred was standing behind the door, listening in to everything that was being said.

“You don’t have to like him dad, but I’m happy with him and you need to accept that.” You defended your boyfriend.

Your dad glared at the paper and flicked the page “as long as you don’t bloody marry the fella.”

Fred’s heart dropped.

You giggled and sighed, standing up to get yourself a drink “maybe I will.”

A strangled smile fell from your face

What kills me that I hurt you this way

The worst part is that I didn't even know

Now there's a million reasons for you to go

But if you can find a reason to stay

Fred took a hold of your hand, the two of you resting beside the fire in your apartment listening to some muggle music.

“What time is it?” You asked, looking through the window, noticing the sunset.

“It’s seven o’clock” Fred replied staring at the clock, planting a kiss on your hand.

You stood up slowly and smiled at Fred “I’ve got to get ready” you replied, walking into your bedroom.

Fred realised that since his absence you had gained quite the following of male friends and a flock of admirers, tonight you were going out for a business dinner with your boss from the ministry to discuss a promotion.

Fred felt quite secure until he realised that Percy and other members of the ministry wouldn’t be there, Fred trusted you, but after the way he had treated you - he felt like you could fall through his fingers.

Zipping your dress up and applying the last of your powder, Fred walked into the bedroom leaning against the door frame.

His eyes searching your body and admiring how stunning you looked and how lucky he was to have you.

You’d by lying if you said you truly trusted Fred, you didn’t, he had a lot to prove and you were giving him a chance.

You learned from your mistakes the many times you put him first before your friends and your future, all because you were dating now doesn’t mean that you had to put everything on hold.

You remained independent and your wariness around Fred often made him feel like you could never trust him again, but you could and you would, all in good time.

“Are you sure you don’t need to me to come?” Fred asked, wanting to protect you.

“I’m sure.” You smiled, then thanking him for the offer.

“You look beautiful.” Fred compliment you.

Pecking Fred on the lips you grabbed some Floo Powder, Fred debated silently in his head whether or not to follow you, but he stayed at home and pondered.

After the successful business dinner you arrived home with a big smile on your face, Fred was laid in bed ‘reading’.

You walked into the bathroom, removing your makeup and made your way to the bedroom, undressing yourself, all the while responding to many of Fred's questions about your evening and the man who was your boss.

Fred searched your beautiful body and couldn’t help but bite his lip whilst watching you strip down to your underwear, you chuckled at him and shook your head. 

Sitting on the bed next to Fred, he started to kiss your neck, telling you how beautiful you looked and for the first time in years the two of you made love. You were a lot more confident than you used to be and Fred noticed, you took control and went wild riding him.

Recovering from your orgasm, Fred held you from behind acting as the big spoon. You could sense that something was bothering your boyfriend and you didn’t want to tip toe around the tension so you asked him directly.

“Is everything okay, Freddie?” you traced circles into his arm that was wrapped around your waist.

Fred hesitated for a moment, but answered “how many people have you slept with?” 

You could feel your face burning up “what does it matter love?” 

“I just always remember being... you know.” 

Letting out a light hearted chuckle you turned over to face Fred. “Yes, I did sleep with other people, Fred. We weren’t together for a long while.”

“How many?” Fred asked, sounding slightly worried.

“Why does it matter? It doesn’t define or change me as a person.” 

Fred sighed “it’s just, I heard a lot of talk from other men.. women.. they were right with their accounts of you, they too had a good time.” 

You stroked Fred’s cheek “I don’t care what they’ve said, you shouldn’t either; I only want and love you - you only get me like this.” you paused for a moment “not that it matters but more than you.” you joked, making Fred laugh.

I'll do whatever it takes

To turn this around

I know what's at stake

I know that I've let you down

And if you give me a chance

Believe that I can change

I'll keep us together

Whatever it takes

Over the years with your promotion, work at the ministry got harder, the hours got longer and the stacks of paper work got higher. You were drowning in the pressure.

Fred and George’s business was doing incredibly well and they were busy too - but you made things work and you were looking to buy a house and move out of your apartment. 

Almost landing on your arse from being spat out the fire place, covered from head to toe in soot Fred chuckled at the sight of you and outstretched his hand, helping you up.

You weren’t expecting him to be home so early, he was always working overtime as you chose to work on weekends instead of the extra few hours on weekdays. You were lucky to get a whole evening alone with Fred, let alone a whole day.

“Follow me, love” he smiled.

Holding Fred’s hand, he walked you into the bathroom. The whole room lit up from tea light candles, the bath filled with warm water and colourful bubbles sitting on the surface and floated in the air.

Fred dragged his hand across the water, moving the bubbles, in the water floated delicate red Roses.

“Oh Fred” you smiled up at him, your eyes sparkling “this is the most special thing anyone has ever done for me.”

Fred felt his heart skip a beat, finally feeling like he had done something right. He helped you get undressed and get into the bath, allowing the warm water to pull you under.

Fred turned around to leave the room but you stopped him.

“why don’t you join me?” You smiled, splashing the water, teasing him.

Fred bit his lip and smiled “the food isn’t going to cook itself”

You let out a chuckle “you’re a wizard–“

Fred blushed, remembering what his mother once told him. “Just because you're allowed to use magic now does not mean you have to whip your wands out for everything.”

Whilst you finished off in your stunning, romantic bath you got dressed into the comfy clothes laid out for you on the sink counter, little did you know, Fred was slaving away in the kitchen finishing up on the meal he had been cooking.

Walking into the dim lit dining room the smell of spaghetti filled the room, the table had your plate of food resting on the mat, with a glass of fire whiskey and a rose resting in a vase in the middle of the table.

You felt incredibly flattered, yet under dressed in the comfy oversized clothes Fred had picked out for you.

Fred admired your look and pulled out your chair.

“Fred, this is incredible—“ you noticed the cooking book on the kitchen worktop. “You did all this without magic!?”

Fred nodded and smiled shyly “I wanted to make an effort, you deserve that and so much more.”

The two of you talked about your day at work, Fred and his brother increasing sales, you talking about Percy and his jealousy towards your promotion.

You both laughed and held hands over the table, you felt like finally everything had fallen into place, you had finally got what you wanted - the love of your life to have and to hold.

“By the way, you’d make a brilliant chef” you complimented, pointing to your empty plate.

Muggle love songs suddenly came on through the radio and rose petals slowly rained down from the ceiling out of nowhere, you couldn’t believe your eyes or the amount of effort Fred had put into this evening.

Fred took a hold of your hand and pulled you into the heart of the living room, holding you close to him, both of you dancing along to the music. You could feel Fred’s heart thump against your ear, pulling away from him you gave him a concerned look.

“Fred, are you okay?” You asked, trying your best not to sour such an incredible evening.

Fred took a deep breath and got down on one knee, pulling out a box from his back pocket. He lifted the top off the box and the most gorgeous ring sparkled against the lights, Fred smiled and looked into your eyes.

“Y/N, from the moment I first saw you, you made me feel things I didn’t know I was capable of. I want to make you feel those things too, I promise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Your eyes welled up with tears of happiness, you couldn’t believe the boy you fell for all those years ago at Hogwarts would be on his knees, proposing to you.

“It took your dad a lot of thought and consideration just to let me do this tonight, Y/N Y/L/N, will you marry me?” Fred breathed out, his heart still thumping.

“Yes, yes Freddie” you cried, holding out your hand “I would love to.”

She said if we're gonna make this work

You gotta let me inside even though it hurts

Don't hide the broken parts that I need to see

She said like it or not it's the way it's gotta be

You've gotta love yourself if you can ever love me

After the wedding there was talk about the two of you, some said you made a big mistake - calling you a mug, saying that Fred was punching above and you were only with him because you felt sorry for him.

The two of you were aware of the chat and often heard it when you were out in Diagon Alley, you didn’t let it bother you because it was only talk - but all of this ‘talk’ was beating Fred down; making him feel insecure and like he was useless.

“Oh Fred please relax, it’s not a big deal” you tried to reassure him, stroking his head.

“It’s a big deal to me, you know how I feel about men speaking to you that way.”

One of the men you had a one night stand with many moons ago spotted you in the leaky cauldron with Fred and approached you, asking why you never called him back. Fred was mortified and felt threatened by this man.

“We’re married Fred, if we’re going to make this work, you need to tell me what’s bothering you so we can work through it.”

Fred put his head in his hands and sighed “I just feel like you deserve better, all these men you were with, they’re so much better than I am.”

You sighed and got Fred to look you in the eyes “Don’t be silly Fred, they aren’t better than you at all. I decided to be with you for a reason - after everything that happened, you need to forgive yourself Fred.”

Fred stayed silent and wiped away his tears with his sleeve. “How can I forgive myself for hurting you?” He croaked.

You sat beside him in bed and rubbed his back “because I’ve forgiven you for everything that happened, I want us to be happy, to not care about what others think.”

Fred cried even more, feeling like a weight had been lifted off him. “You’ve forgiven me?”

“Of course I did, Freddie” You smiled, kissing his cheek “I married you for a reason, not because everyone else was doing it. I want to carry your child one day.”

I'll do whatever it takes

To turn this around

I know what's at stake

I know that I've let you down

And if you give me a chance

And give me a break

I'll keep us together

You took it upon yourself to get you and George to see a muggle couples counsellor, you had read about them in plenty muggle magazines and decided it would be the best - not just for your marriage but for Fred.

Seeing him constantly panic and overthink broke your heart, you wanted this to be a healthy and stable relationship and you both loved one another so much to make it work.

At first the sessions started at one session a week, and then as the months went by it became once every two weeks, and then once per month when you were both making progress.

The first bout of sessions usually started with the counsellor asking questions, getting the two of you to have sessions alone and to talk to one another towards the end.

“I’m just scared that she’ll realise there’s there’s other who are much better than me and they’ll treat her better.” Fred opened up nervously.

“I just wish he would forgive himself, I’ve forgiven him - I did a long time ago - I want him to be able to move forward with me.” You teared up.

After six months you were able to spend sessions together talking to one another, and being able to bask in the progress the two of you had made.

Fred felt more secure and didn’t panic about you suddenly disappearing.

You and George would often talk about it over your lunch dates, you would learn more about your husband and how much he struggled when you were gone, and being able to talk about it made you closer to your best friend who was now your brother in law. You felt incredibly secure and loved by his family.

Through the months of November, December and January, you and Fred had been spending plenty of the winter evenings keeping one another warm; trying for a baby.

Pondering around the bathroom nervously while Fred was messing around in the living room trying to bake some muggle muffins, you picked up and test and smiled widely.

Walking into the kitchen you leaned against the door frame and smiled at Fred, watching him getting frustrated with the cooking book and measurements of ingredients.

“Getting annoyed are you, Mr or should I say Daddy Weasley?” You smirked.

Fred startled by your voice pulled a questioning face at you “Daddy Weasley?”

You pulled the test from your back pocket and waved it in your hand, beaming at your husband.

“Wait...you’re?” Fred’s had a surprised expression on his face, you could see the tears forming in his eyes.

You nodded your head and could feel your tears forming too “positive.”

I know you deserve much better

Remember the time I told you the way that I felt

And that I'd be lost without you and never find myself

Let's hold onto each other above everything else

Start over, start over

“I cannot believe he’s got you up the bloody duff!” Your dad scolded, helping you around your new house.

“It was a mutual decision, we decided we wanted to, together.” You defended your husband, finally sitting down on the sofa to catch your breath.

“Well now you’ve got his kid no other man will want you and you’re tied to him forever now, whether you like it or not.”

You sighed, starting to feel frustrated and angry. Fred could head your fathers cruel words and felt like he would never fit your fathers expectations.

“When will you realise that me and Fred are happy together? I know he hurt me and I know that you’re upset about it, but it’s been years! Please can you just forgive him, dad? I did.” You pleaded, the added on stress causing the baby to kick out inside of you.

Sitting in front of Fred in the bath, he washed your hair for you with a cup as you couldn’t bend all the way back from your big bump.

“He’ll never accept me” Fred muttered in a low sad voice.

You have Fred a sorrowful smile “I don’t care Fred. He wants me to be happy and I am.” You covered your eyes from the flowing water.

Fred felt relieved knowing that your father wouldn’t influence the way you felt about him, knowing that your love for him was pure.

“I love you” he whispered, massaging your scalp.

“I love you too” you smiled, feeling another kick “and this little one loves you too”

I'll do whatever it takes

To turn this around

I know what's at stake

I know that I've let you down

And if you give me a chance

Believe that I can change

I'll keep us together

Whatever it takes

You and your four year old daughter were in the garden potting some beautiful plants in your parents garden, your father was sitting with Fred in the kitchen, the two of them watching you and the little one.

Your father smiled, his granddaughter patting the soil and cheering as she planted some more seeds, her long and beautiful ginger hair flowing in the wind.

“You’ve created a beautiful little family, you and my daughter.” Your father said to Fred, taking a sip of his drink.

Fred shuffled in his seat, the tension in the air was nothing short of awkward but it meant a lot to him knowing that his father in law finally had something good to say.

“You’ve proven yourself to me, Fred. I’m sorry it took so long for me to warm up to you and the idea of you being with my daughter, when your little girl gets older you’ll understand why. Seeing how happy she is, having that little one in my life - you can’t put a price on that.”

Your father extended his hand out to Fred, slowly smiling at him. Fred paused for a moment and shook his hand, smiling back at him.

“Shall we go out there and help?” Fred smiled “they look like they could use some help.”

Your father nodded his head “I would like, Fred.”

The two of them walked outside together, joining you and your daughter. Looking up at your father and Fred smiling at one another you felt your heart flutter, the two men in your life that you loved more than anything were finally on the same page.

You could finally move forward as a family, the only thing you’ve ever wanted.

You were Fred’s girl.

[hetalia-reacts]

Yandere allies after their s/o finally saying „I love you too“ for the first time and genuinely having fallen for them

America

Alfred is in shock

How could he not be!

You just said you were in L.O.V.E with him!

He’s so happy all his hard work paid off!

He never even questions why you went from crying and hating him to being in love with him

Just chooses to respectfully ignore all those things in favor of your love

His behavior doesn’t change much though

He’s less harsh, not as controlling now that he fully has you

No more punishments or ropes and chains

You can move freely anywhere in the house, sleep where you want, watch TV, play video games with or without him

Pretty much anything you want to do you can, even without asking him

But you still aren’t allowed to go anywhere

Not even after months of proving that you actually are in love with him

It’s not that he doesn't believe you or anything

Alfred is just protective, possessive, and he can’t let you out and risk the chance that someone would see you and try to take you away

He absolutely cannot risk having to start all over again with you

Feels like a villain for doing this, he knows it isn’t right

But he can’t stop himself from being this way

“You what? With me? Does this mean you’ll finally be my awesome hero sidekick!?”

England

Arthur is frozen in time for a good minute

He cannot believe what he just heard you say

He’s so confused?

What happened to the crying? The screaming?? The recent emotionless reactions?

Now you love him?

Arthur is not going to truly believe you at first

He’ll act like he does and he will revel in the feeling of being loved back by you

But he’s keeping a close eye on you and your every move

After weeks and maybe even months of watching he realizes you truly did mean every I love you and I love you too

He’s so happy he could cry

And maybe that's exactly what he does, just goes up to you for a hug and cries on your shoulder

Will never explain himself as to why he was crying, he actually feels really guilty for not believing you for so long

Arthur becomes a lot laxer after that

You get to go out more, he never chains or ties you up anymore, and punishments are a thing of the past

You’ll probably be able to tell that he finally realized you weren’t lying about loving him back or weren’t trying to escape

It’s pretty obvious that he realized considering he changed his behavior all of a sudden

And his words seem to lack the hint of suspicion and doubt now

“Love, do you truly mean it? Do you really love me back?”

France

Francis’s heart is melting

He can barely believe this is happening right now

He was for sure you were going to say something else like I hate you or go away

But what a pleasant surprise!

Francis is immediately going to engulf you in a hug

Repeatedly saying how happy he is how much he loves you

If you say it back during this moment you may not leave his arms for a good few hours

Francis won’t let up on you immediately though

He’s so happy you said it back but he’s going to be cautious

There’s just a small seed of doubt in his mind that this was all a way to trick him so you could leave

So he doesn’t let up on the way he treats you

It’s just now he says I love you a lot more and kisses you when you say it back

As the days turn into weeks his doubts completely disappear

He slowly starts letting up with his usual treatments until he fully trusts you enough to basically live a semi-normal life again

Not going to let you go outside by yourself though, he’s watching you and everyone else like a hawk to make sure nothing unfavorable happens

Francis doesn’t feel guilty for having doubts, he figures that it was fair of him to not trust you, especially if you had tried to pull something like that before to escape

“Mon Cheri, are you telling me the truth? You really mean it?”

Canada

Matthew is over the moon when you say you love him back

This is what he’s always wanted and he can’t believe it happened so soon!

He’d wrap you in a hug and thank you a bunch of times before finally letting you go and telling you he loved you again

He’ll want to celebrate this occasion

So he makes something tasty and maybe even break out some expensive and tasty wine for you both to share

He’s a bit concerned that you might be faking it so that he’ll let his guard down

But he doesn’t let you know that

He’ll stop punishing you and keeping you cooped up inside

Doesn’t want you to go out by yourself though and makes sure that you know to ask to leave and bring him along

He makes you start sleeping in his room with him

Just figures it's about time and you’ve spent so much time in your room by now you must be bored of it

Matthew will eventually forget that he was supposed to be keeping an eye on you as you never do anything to cause alarm and you genuinely seem to love him so the thought just leaves his mind completely

And if he ever does remember it he just laughs it off because at this point it’s of no concern

Also doesn’t feel guilty for thinking that way considering he ended up forgetting about it and it’s not like he treated you badly because of it

“Maple leaf, you love me back? I’m so glad you finally realized it!”

Russia

Ivan is suspicious

He can’t even kind of enjoy this moment for what it is because he’s all in his head thinking that you’re lying to him

It’s unfortunate but he doesn’t believe you and simply tells you to prove it

The only thing that came out of you confessing was that he started treating you a bit worse

It’s a test

If you really loved him like he loved you then you would be able to handle this and still love him afterward

After doing this for months and repeatedly asking you if you loved him after all the bad things he did that day only to get the same answer and sincere look he believes you

Ivan really beats himself up afterward for not believing you

It’s like a back and forth in his mind between thinking it was a rational reaction and thinking he was being too over the top and ruined everything

He’ll need a lot of comfort to get his head out of this negative space

Everything will change after that point

He’ll let you roam around the house by yourself

He allows you to explore the back and front yard now and even invites you to go on walks with him

Might even let you speak to someone else, but only someone he knows, like Latvia or Ukraine

Absolutely demands that you sleep in his room from now on too

Ivan really enjoys this and demands that you tell him you love him every day to make up for all the times he’s said it to you

“Sunflower if you really loved me you would prove it. You can do that, yes?”

China

Yao basically explodes in happiness!

He can’t believe what you just said

Has you repeat it a few times just to make sure he wasn’t hearing things or having delusions

So happy you finally accepted his love and really wants to believe you but he’s going to be a bit cautious

He’ll give you privileges, roaming around the house, going into the backyard, even sometimes getting to go out with him

But he’s watching your every move and checking the house top to bottom every night to make sure you weren’t hatching a plan when he wasn’t watching you

When weeks go by and nothing happens and you seem to keep falling more and more in love with him he stops searching

Yao will finally realize that you really did mean it when you said you loved him back

He’s going to find where you are and scoop you up for a cuddle session

You will have no idea where this came from or what was even going on in his head

He never once let it show that he was doubting you and never changed his behavior to show he was suspicious

Yao feels incredibly guilty for not taking your word to heart

A part of him does think it’s fair since it took you so long to accept his words of love

But he shakes those childish feelings off relatively quickly

No point in crying over spilled milk as they say

And now he has you, physically and emotionally, so he knows there is no reason to get hung up on the past anymore

“Baozi what did you just say? Can you repeat that one more time!”

[evita-shelby]

Earn Me

Part three

Gif by @bonniebird

Taglist: @jyessaminereads

“Did they replace your blood with ice water in France?” You slapped him and tried to hit him again when he tried to comfort you after you watched Freddie be dragged away flailing and shouting for them not to hurt Ada and his baby.

“It wasn’t me, how many fucking times do I need to tell you before you listen to me.” He drives you back to the little house in the country once you had calmed down enough to demand he take you home.

But you’ll either have to walk there tonight or wait till morning.

Car was out of petrol, or at least that was what Tommy had said. He was lying, Curly had said the car was full before you left.

“Then who could’ve been? You know Freddie’s neighbors wouldn’t hurt him, no one is as heartless to call the police on a man who came to meet his new born son.” You indulged him.

“There’s a rat. Someone is working for Campbell. Once is chance, second time’s coincidence, third time is a pattern. It’s someone at the Pub, has to be.” He doesn’t look at her, looks ahead as if he’s looking at a conspiracy map.

“Its not Arthur, not Harry and not any of your men. They’d cut their tongue out before betraying you.” You point out.

Oh great, he’s made you believe him.

Its on the tip of your tongue. Like an unpleasant aftertaste.

If you say it, he’ll just think you’re being clouded by your loathing of her.

“Grace.” You feel immense relief to hear him come to the obvious conclusion.

“I know you’re dying to say it, love. Out with it.” He knows you too well.

“I told you so, but did you believe me? No, you fucking didn’t!” you’d known she was trouble the moment you saw her make eyes at your man. “Thomas fucking Shelby getting screwed over by a lying barmaid who thinks she’s the next Mistinguett.”

You laugh, you laugh at the man who ruined his chance at happiness with you for a pretty lump of fool’s gold.

His family hates him, his gang no longer trusts him and all because he wanted to fuck that lying bitch from Galway.

And he sits there and takes it like he always does. He takes a cigarette and light’s it up. The only sign that your mockery has hurt him.

You feel bad, deep down you do, but he ruined things first and you aren’t going to make things easier for him.

But you’d get revenge for Ada, for yourself, while he earns your forgiveness.

And you can’t do that hiding away in the country.

The next day, you show up at the pub wearing that ring he gave you.

“Does this mean you’ve forgiven me?” he asked wanting to kiss you and you pulling away with a smirk.

“Not yet.”

[underafallensky]

Do you ever just. Get really emotional about Merlin in Arthur in the episode with Valiant??? Arthur wants so badly to be able to trust Merlin in this episode, but he’s grown up basically expecting that he has to be alone because people will either tell him what he wants to hear or exploit any connection they form with him, so trust isn’t something that comes easy to him. If not for the fact that Merlin repeatedly called out his behaviour even after being punished, I’m not even sure if he would have considered trusting Merlin at this point. But he knows Merlin thought he was an ass, and he knows Merlin saved his life anyway, so when Merlin’s insistent that his life is in danger again he wants to take it seriously.

Specifically though what really gets to me is how the second Merlin says, “I know I’m just a servant, and my word doesn’t count for anything,” Arthur looks at him. Arthur, don’t forget, speaks later in the series about wanting everyone to be equals. He doesn’t want people to elevate his importance and he doesn’t want them to belittle their own. Obviously he struggles with accomplishing this because of coming from a privileged upbringing, but still, the desire is there, and I think it starts with Merlin standing up to him in the very first episode. So when Merlin is asking him to ignore the difference in their stations and trust him, all Arthur asks for in return is that Merlin look him in the eye and swear to him he’s telling the truth because he believes Merlin to be someone of integrity.

He believes this so much, that even when the witness Uther would have believed is killed, Arthur still uses Merlin’s word as evidence. He believes this so much, that even as he’s telling Merlin he needs a servant he can trust and sends him away, and Merlin thinks he’s lost that trust forever, we see that he hasn’t. Because Merlin risks punishment to go to Arthur and give him another heartfelt warning, this time begging him not to fight Valiant at all because he’ll use the shield against him. And Arthur tells him, “I know.”

So Arthur’s comment about needing a servant he can trust gains new context because he hasn’t suddenly decided that Merlin was lying to him; he knows Merlin was telling the truth, even if Uther doesn’t believe it. When Arthur says he needs a servant he can trust, what he really means is a servant he can depend on. A servant who will have his back, who will support him, who will make him feel just a little bit less alone in his journey to becoming king. Of course, we know that Merlin is all of those things and more, but Arthur is still not sure of that yet. He realizes later that he has been unfair - it wasn’t Merlin’s fault that the witness died, nor is it his fault that Uther won’t believe the word of a servant over the word of a knight.

Their final scene in this episode is the one that makes me really emotional though, because Arthur and Morgana bicker about whether or not she saved him in the fight against Valiant, and Arthur’s first instinct is to go to Merlin’s side and complain. Merlin, who isn’t his servant anymore. Merlin, who is just a peasant and who Arthur arguably barely even knows at this point. Arthur would never complain to the other servants like this, but he complains to Merlin because in his mind Merlin is not just a servant.

Merlin, on the other hand, is acting uncharacteristically subservient, not really knowing where he stands with Arthur or how he is meant to respond. And the second Arthur picks up on this, he knows he’s to blame and he admits to Merlin that he made a mistake. Like. Arthur Pendragon. Son of the King. Prince of Camelot. Admitting he was wrong and unfair to Merlin, who had only wanted to protect him. The second he says it was unfair of him to sack Merlin, the grin Merlin gets is just... so... alkshglakshgasg it’s so endearing okay I tried to contain my emotions there but I can’t because he’s just so freaking pleased because Arthur is bringing himself off his pedestal for Merlin after Merlin was convinced that whatever destiny they were supposed to share was already over. And Merlin doesn’t think this is translating to him getting his job back, he just thinks Arthur is acting like an actual decent human being capable of acknowledging his mistakes even if it is to someone of lower status.

So he tells Arthur maybe he can buy him a drink sometime to make it up to him, because after this what reason does he have to be part of Arthur’s life? At least if Arthur agrees, they can spend more time together, maybe still be friends. Instead, Arthur tells him he can’t be seen buying drinks for his servant, and at first Merlin’s expression is like, ah yeah that makes sense, and then it’s like his brain catches up and realizes what Arthur’s saying.

“Your servant? You sacked me.” “Now I’m rehiring you.”

And! Merlin! Is! So! Pleased! Like this isn’t the cute little grin he gave Arthur when he acknowledged he was wrong, this is a full, light-up-your-entire-face smile because Arthur is inviting him back into his circle, back at his side. Arthur is telling him, I was wrong, and I can trust you. He may not know everything Merlin did for him during this episode, but he knew enough to welcome him back anyway. Yes, he does so in his typical “conceal don’t feel” fashion, but Merlin at this point is already starting to see through it a little bit. He may not realize how important he is to Arthur (or how important he’ll become) but he knows their connection isn’t completely one sided. It’s really mostly his insecurity about not being able to share all of himself with Arthur that I think keeps him from seeing the true extent of Arthur’s attachment, because Arthur wants someone he can trust, and Merlin wants nothing more than to be that person, but Merlin also has to spend most of the series lying to Arthur with increasing frequency as time goes on.

[kob131]

Morgan Le Fay (Alter Ego) My Room Lines

Morgause

“Master~ Can we stay here please? A moment’s rest may bring you far after all!”

“Ah, you really like to work don’t you? No no, I’m not accusing you of anything. I know your drive after all...”

“No matter what, it doesn’t seem I’ll get use to fighting. I wonder if either of those two would-ah. nevermind!”

Bond 1 “...Oh, sorry Master! I was spacing out there for a moment. I’m...not really use to being...heh, nevermind me!”

Bond 2 “Your magecraft seems a little shaky lately. Are you sure you’re feeling well? You eating well? Maybe a nice plate of meat and potatoes will make you feel better? ...Wh-what do you mean that’s too heavy?!”

Bond 3 “How strange.  I’m still here. Usually I can’t remember where I’ve been or how I got where I am because...because...

...Well anyway, I can’t say it’s bad after all. I’d certainly be worried if one moment I was here with you and the next you left my sight. That-that can get rather scary...”

Bond 4 “... ... ... I can still feel them inside me, you know? ‘The Lady of The Lake’ and ‘The Fairy Witch’. My...other selves.

... Why? Why? WHY? Why do they have to exist? Why are they inside me? It’s not fair! I lost so much to them! So much of my life- Take, STOLEN from me by them! And even worst, they took my home away! I’m Morgause Pendragon, the daughter of Uther Pendragon! I am human! Not a fae! Not a witch! I. Am. HUMAN, ME! 

So why can’t they just leave me alone?!”

Bond 5 “... I won’t be here for long. Even if this body were to see the end of your journey, I-I might not be the one in it. I was the first to fade away after all. It’s simply my fate...to be used and discarded by everything I love. 

...Even so, I won’t run. As weak as I maybe in comparison to them...I won’t surrender a second of my time with you. With anyone. I’m here now. I am me.”

To Gawain “My son...my darling son. P-please don’t turn away! Please. I-I lost so much time with you. I can’t-I have to. Please, come embrace your mother. Before I’m gone.”

To Gareth “Gareth...my little pup. Look at you, you’ve grown up so much. I bet you had the lords at your beck and call. ... I wish I could have been there for you.”

To Agravain “Oh Agravain. It hurts to see you look at me so. And yet, it’s all my fault. If only I were stronger, if only I could overcome them. My little knight...I’m sorry.”

To Arturia “Arthur-no, Arturia isn’t it? To think I felt so bitter about what our father wanted...when there was so much to lose to that envy. I...I shall take my leave.”

To Mordred “Master, that knight over there?? That...wouldn’t happen to be Sir Mordred correct? ... Yes I assumed so, given her glares at me. Le Fay’s child with my own brother...There’s nothing I can do to help her, is there?”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “You there, the witch. You have quite the nerve to show your face here. You, who abandoned her humanity for the sake of a kingdom. Your kingdom was a shame and deserved it’s fate. Glare at me all you wish, without the three of us you would be nothing.”

Likes “What do I like? Well, I always liked cooking. It was always such a treat to see my children’s faces light up when I cooked with all my heart!”

Dislikes “...Lake fae and evil witches.”

Holy Grail “Even if it is a heresy, I would like to wish upon it. Then maybe, I can finally be free.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vivian

“Master, come. We have much to do still. ...I know you must be tired, I understand your weariness. But still, we must persist.”

“There’s no need to worry about me. An adventure like this-it is a simple matter. Compared to guiding those troublesome fae...”

“Quiet, quiet, quiet. ...Sorry Master, I was...having some difficulties with...the others. Le Fay especially...”

Bond 1 “So, you have stayed by my side? How strange, most humans simply leave the lakeside after so long.”

Bond 2 “Your heart is weary. There is no point in lying. I know that feeling well myself. Perhaps I have been pushing you too hard. Come, rest. All need reprieve after all.”

Bond 3 “It seems my time has not come yet. Good. I cannot-I will not fade like before. I refuse to let things end like before.”

Bond 4 “It is so tiring. To have their thoughts, their minds inside me. Always, always a reminder. That I am more than the fae ‘Vivian’. The human princess and the raging witch-

...No. No. NO! I am here now! I will be the one to fight! I will be the one to guard the Human Order! I will be the one protect the Age of Man that Father wished for! Not the human Morgause! Not the witch Le Fay! 

I am Me, Vivian, The Lady of the Lake!”

Bond 5 “Even though I am the fae Vivian, an existence incompatible with mankind. It was always the humans I loved most of all. The fae, so fickle and cruel. I guided and guarded them out of duty alone.

Why you may ask? Because it was mankind that my father Uther loved. He protected them to his last breath. And so shall I. Even if I may never see the Age of Man, I will protect and guide it. Especially you, my Master. I shall ensure your safety to death and beyond.”

To Lancelot (Berserker) “Master! Th-that figure cloaked in black! I-it can’t be! My son! This is what became of you? ... Who did this?”

To Lancelot (Saber) “I knew it. Of course my son would be here. There was no chance he wouldn’t answer the call to protect mankind. He grew into a splendid knight after all.”

To Mash “This feeling... You there, young lady with the shield. Come forward, let me take a good look. ...It really is, isn’t it? Don’t be scared young lady. I shall never hurt you. Now, come with me. I have much to discuss with you.”

To Fae Servants “*Sigh* It seems there are some troublemakers in this place isn’t there? Worry not Master, I know how to keep them on a tight leash.”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “Ruler of the fae, huh? How pathetic. To have resorted to such evil. I do not care what your excuses are. I lead and guarded the fae myself. I sacrificed my place in the world. I expect no less of you.”

To Arturia (Archer) “How cute, thinking that little spruit is alike to my magic. Here, let me show you what a true Excalibur Vivian can accomplish.”

Likes “Besides mankind? ...I do enjoy watching the forest creatures prance about. The little bugs especially.”

Dislike “Lazy princesses and malevolent witches. That is all I’ll say.”

Holy Grail “It is a false wish granting device isn’t it? Still, if supplied with enough mana, it might just be enough to grant my wish To gain my freedom.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Morgan Le Fay

“Careful now, Master. One wrong step and things will certainly go wrong. I know how much fun it is to lose yourself in the throes of battle. Hehehe...But your goal must come first.”

“That fire...that determination. Very well, I’ll join you in the fray. After all, I haven’t nearly indulged enough myself.”

“Your magecraft is rather lackluster isn’t it? Hm, whatever you call your ‘talents’, that doesn’t matter. Practice, practice, practice. Experience breeds excellence. I didn’t match Merlin with pure talent after all.”

Bond 1 “I must say, staying this way at will without being subject to the fickle whims fate...it’s rather nice. Thanks Master.”

Bond 2 “Fate is cruel. I know your pain better than most. Forced into the impossible by the will of others. But don’t let your heart waver. Through will and guile, you will gain your freedom.”

Bond 3 “Don’t hesitate to give me tasks. I find myself with more time than i know what to do with. Preferably with you around...”

Bond 4 “I’m sure you’ve heard about this before but...My other selves are still here. Deep inside, I can still here them. Their woes, their uncertainty, their hatred. All mine...

...Bwahaha! What a joke! As if I would let them trend upon me. It was my loathing that struck fear into Camelot. It was my malice that twisted the Green Knight. It was my love for Britian that allowed me to stomach sharing a bed with that liar. I am no feeble princess or passive fae. I am me, Morgan, the witch that loved Britian!”

Bond 5 “So here we stand still. I’m sure you caught on but I hate the Age of Man. Tearing away all the work I put out, fading everything I’ve done into legend. Acting as though I was never here. For it’s sins, I will always spur it.

So why am I here? Because I would rather have an Age of Man with Britian than not. Be it the destruction of history or man, I will not stand for it. I will rage and hate and burn until all is done. So long as we stand on the same ground, I will be here. I can’t trust the other two to get the job done after all.”

To Mordred “Hm, that defect of a homonculus is here? Master, you are best off sending it away. It’s incapable of following orders or performing tasks sufficiently. I would love to fix it but that’s beyond my reach.”

To Arturia (Alter) “Tch, that liar dares to attach my name to something so weak. She preaches that the strong rule over the weak, shall I teach her who is truly strong then? Gwahaha!”

To Merlin “Ah, Teacher is here too. How unusual, that fickle asshole couldn’t be asked to cut a blade of grass, let alone save humanity. He’s not even really here is he?”

To Fairy Knight Tristan “Master, this annoying brat won’t leave me alone. Acting all familiar and friendly with me... Maybe I’ll teach her what it means to truly be sadistic. Perhaps by rending her limbs asunder...”

To Arturia “So the King of Liars has come as well. Maybe a trip into Hell will teach her the place where she belongs...but that will have to wait, won’t it? She still has her uses after all...”

To Oberon-Vortigern “That mana. Another embodiment of Britian is here?! It feels like that failure Vortigern...yet...it’s so different. I must dissect him, to know!”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “Ah yes, that other me. Heh, what a fool she turned out to be, no? She rages against man, fae and knights, wasting all her efforts in the process. Focus, my dear. Focus is the key to victory. I did not waste my time with man or fae, I put my all into the slaying of Arturia. And which of us succeeded, hm?”

Likes “A rough night with a man below me, of course.”

Dislikes “My other selves. Unlike them, I will not hide the truth.”

Holy Grail “Hm, I have no need for such a thing. Unlike them, I will not cling to a false hope. It will be my hand that cuts them out like the parasites they are.”

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Bond 10 CE: I Am...?

One minute *I’m* home with my children One minute ^I’m^ guarding those troublesome fae One minute -I’m- cackling as I tear into his flesh

The next I’m not.

It is my duty to *lead*/^guard^/-destroy- my kin No, That is *my*/^my^/-my- duty. No, it’s *mine*/^mine^/-mine-!

...Is it?

No, I am a *princess*/^guardian^/-witch-! That is not what *I*/^I^/-I- am! Stop it! This is who *I*/^I^/-I- am!

I am *me*/^me^/-me-! I am *Me*/^Me^/-Me-! I AM *ME*/^ME^/-ME-!

I am... I...am... I...

....Who am I?

[sentanixiv]

Tomorrow’s Problem

Something sweet to offset the feels that I attacked y’all with yesterday. John Marston suffering through the poor life choice of drinking more whiskey than his liver and body can tolerate.

-

Birds chirping have no right to sound the way they do this morning, piercing calls penetrating the deep fog of sleep and waking not only John, but also the heavy, aching pain of having indulged too much in liquor and too little in sleep after celebrating the success of their take late into the night. He groans, a sound which in itself is too loud, and drags the thin pillow of the hotel room bed over his face like it’ll smother noise. Or maybe him, because each second spent being dragged into the state of waking has him feeling nothing but regret.

Think you oughta slow up there, Marston. Keep at it and you ain’t gonna be fit for living come morning.

Even the recollection of Arthur teasing him about the pace with which he kept downing shot after shot sounds too loud and he buries his face in the mattress as though peace and quiet’ll be found somewhere between the feathers and springs that separate him from the bedframe and the floor beneath it.

That’s something for tomorrow John to deal with.

The cocky remark’d sounded witty, damn near hilarious when he snapped it out and tossed back the next shot in a line of too many that blurred the hours together, made hazy the hands of poker he’d played, then inspired his running into the alley, leaning a hand on the wall as he emptied his stomach of too much whiskey and too little food out onto the muddy ground. Vaguely, he remembers Arthur coming out to find him, holding back his hair and offering a rare find: Cloth-wrapped ice, a premium in these parts, that he was able to rest on the back of his neck, then against his forehead as the drinks wound down and his stomach knotted up, bringing with it a misery that’s three times worse this morning.

Let’s get you back to the room, Marston. You ain’t in any shape to stick ‘round here.

That explains how he got back here, their small safe haven of a hotel room in a town looking out for two degenerates that robbed a payroll stage late yesterday morning. Hazy memories fling themselves out of the dark void that follows the actions in the alley, then of John stumbling under Arthur’s guided patience up each stair and down the hall, of fumbling off the layers down to his union suit and then getting the brilliant idea of stripping Arthur down to have some fun, of being told to hold off for some time he ain’t drunk, so’s there’s no regrets about it, and then it fogs up into the murky sleep that he’s slowly pulling free of. John knows that any regret he feels would not have been from getting rowdy; every ounce of it relates to the sheer amount of alcohol he packed into his gut before his body stirred a riot against it. Still, he figures Arthur had it right, because he ain’t sure he’d’ve remembered the fun of it with the way he feels right now, ready to roll over and play dead if that’d make the hangover stop.

Only, he can’t. They need to ride out, connect with Dutch and the others a couple towns south, and that means John has to roll off the mattress and piece himself together no matter that he feels worse than shit dragged twice through the pigsty. He is ready to try sitting up when the creaking hinges of the door split open his head anew and he curls up into a ball in the middle of the bed, palms pressing against his temples to force his skull back together and a whimper slipping from him.

Gentler the door is when it closes, but the screech is the same to his sensitive hearing; the low rumble of a chuckle, however, is the first sound since waking that doesn’t make him want to wither and die under the cotton-and-nails chaos inside his head. John moves the heel of one hand to his forehead, pressing against the ache there, and the other peels back the pillow until he catches the blurry sight of Arthur walking soft and quiet across the room, setting a plate of something on the bedside and then nudging a cool tin hug moist with the condensation of cold water against the hand that’s holding back the poor barricade the pillow provides against the world.

“You’s gonna be fine, John,” Arthur tells him, voice pitched low and quiet where it doesn’t drive deeper the spikes of the hangover in his head.

John groans at the sentiment regardless, turning his face back into the mattress. “Don’t feel fine,” he whines, knowing it sure is a whine by the pathetic lilt of it. “Shootin’ me’d be doing me a kindness right now.”

The cold touch of the mug lifts as Arthur sits down on the bed next to him, a sigh let out to vent whatever chiding frustration he wants to bring up about warning him off drinking that much. “C’mon,” is what he says instead and he’s carefully brushing John’s hair back from his face, carding his fingers through it and coaxing him to turn his head towards him. “Got you some water, need you to drink it.”

Broken bones or gunshot wounds and John’d resist the treatment, but he’s feeling miserable and lets Arthur slowly get him up, braces an elbow under himself to hold himself there, half lying down, as Arthur puts the mug to his lips and lets him sip at it slowly. Cool water floods his mouth, dives deep into him and it’s the second soothing thing he’s felt this morning. The first is Arthur being here at all, being gentle over abrasive, and he figures it’s because ain’t no one else around to call him out for being soft on John. They’ve been riding a string of paired off jobs, the two of them, and some of Arthur’s harsh edges start wearing down the longer and further they are from the gang, from the expectations of it, from the work he seems to think falls squarely on his shoulders to bear, the rules he figures his to enforce. Some days it makes John think about not going back, letting Arthur be himself more than this rough jackass he’s been sculpted into, but the thoughts always fade too fast. It’s family, the gang, found and kept; it ain’t something Arthur can leave and even John ain’t fond of the idea to separate from it when he knows the hell that’s life in this country.

“Got you some eggs and beans, bit of bread.” Arthur unknowingly breaks that line of thought before it draws him in with the temptation it, pulling the cup away to set it down.

The smell of food, and the idea of beans after the night he’s had, leaves John wrinkling his nose in disgust. “Ain’t hungry,” he says and it’s true, but the look he gets? The borderline aggravation muscled quick under the hold of patience? Tells him he’ll be trying to eat and hunger ain’t got a thing to do with it. There’ve been times when that look ends up with Arthur forcing food into him with a spoon and his fingers prying his mouth open, but that ain’t been a thing since his early teens, back when John knew nothing about trusting anyone but himself. “Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll try, just… gimme a few minutes here. Then I’ll eat’n we can ride out.”

The thought of riding with the way his stomach churns ain’t a fond one, but Hosea taught him oft enough that you dig the grave, you gotta fill it; sometimes, that means your pride’s what gets buried and sometimes it’s a body, but something needs to go there and he figures his pride will be the victim today. Reluctantly, John goes to push himself to a full sitting position, but Arthur puts a hand on his chest and pushes him back down to the mattress. Bewildered, he blinks and looks at him blankly.

“We ain’t goin’ nowhere yet,” Arthur says, wiping the moisture of the mug off his hand against the thin blanket of the bed, looking away at the windows that stand vigil over the main street.

Suspicion flares up and John frowns, almost makes the mistake of shaking his head and just barely holds off jarring his hungover brain by it. “We ain’t sticking idle because I drank too much,” he manages, though he’s not yet trying to push the hand away and right himself with any real effort. He’s tired and the water felt good, good enough that he’s starting to think that eating’s got potential too.

“We ain’t,” Arthur tells him flatly, leaving off the gentle press of his hand, a half-hearted pin he’d let keep him there, to stand up. “Heard a couple fellas last night talkin’ about the bank bringing in more money in a couple days, how they’s looking to pull law and security out of town to guard the stage when it comes in.”

Here he’s been thinking his drinking was stupid enough to land him in this state, now Arthur’s talking foolish plans about hitting the stage again? “No way we could pull off the same job twice,” John tells him, feeling odd being the one to point this out. All that added security means bodies and risks that they don’t have the manpower for.

Arthur grins and it ain’t bitter, it ain’t grim; it’s to the challenge, the idea of it being fun to him and that’s rarer the older they both get. “Ain’t never said we’d hit the stage again,” he says, hooking his thumb under his gunbelt. His eyes are bright, something that John ain’t seen since before Mary ended things and tore out what little heart Arthur had left. “All them folk pulled away to protect the stagecoach? Seems to me like we got a good chance of clearing out the bank while they’s all looking the other way.”

Two of them taking on a bank? The idea sits beyond the scope John can currently manage, his head threatening to split anew when he tries to sort the details, and he drops it down back onto the pillow with a grumbled, confused muttering. “How’s that supposed to go?”

There’s a shrug, a pat on his shoulder before Arthur starts towards the door. “I ain’t sure yet. You rest up, John. I’ll case the bank, see if we don’t got an opportunity too damn good to pass up.”

[bitsandbobsofwriting]

Merlin and Arthur bond like never before, and war preparations are being made

Morgana sees something... worrying

Part 3 of Merlin’s angry outburst.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 4   Part 5

The next morning, everyone is up early. Merlin pays a quick trip to Gaius, to inform him of his and Arthur’s plan for that evening (earning a raised eyebrow and a concealed smirk) before meeting Morgana at the castle gates, and heading off.

Everyone is busy, and no one in the gang crosses paths for more than a few moments the whole day.

Merlin and Morgana spend almost the whole day at the Druid camp, learning what they can, and asking for healers. (Morgana gives her own raised eyebrow and smirk when Merlin requests the ingredients he’ll need to forge a mental link, but doesn’t say anything.)

Gaius is busy bustling around with the servants he was provided, instructing them on what herbs to collect, where they would be found, and how to harvest properly.

Leon has Elyan, Gwaine, and Lancelot, lead small groups of knights in opposite directions, tasked with heading to the outermost villages, and warning them of the potential danger. Leon himself and Percival stay behind, and continue to oversee training and organisation of extra patrols, and intelligence gathering.

Arthur has meetings throughout the day, mainly focused on the public announcement that would take place the next day, as well as letters to be sent to the lower town. News travelled fast in Camelot, but they wanted to make sure that everyone knew as soon as possible.

Gwen spent the day moving between the forgery, Arthur, and Gaius, making sure everyone had what they needed, and pointing out flaws or missed opportunities wherever she could.

The council may have hated her when Arthur was first crowned (”She’s just a serving girl, My Lord!”) but Arthur had shut that down quickly, and made sure everyone knew that Gwen was a trusted advisor, and was to be treated as such. And even if he hadn’t made that point, no one could deny that she was quick witted, and always made good suggestions.

The Gang gathers once again in the evening, dining together. A small hall off to the side of the throne room had become their sort of HQ, the place they congregated for meals and meetings for just the ten of them. There was only one door in, and they each had their own keys (the only ones made).

Each of them updates everyone on their progress, one by one.

Leon informs the group of when Elyan, Gwaine, and Lancelot are expected back (not for a while, it was a couple days ride to the furthest villages, and they had plenty of places to visit), and how the training is going.

Gaius happily reports that preparations for the infirmary were going quickly, even more so when he was joined by all the healers that M+M had brought back with them from the Druid camp.

Gwen tells that, whilst progress was slow at the moment, the forgery was expecting a large shipment of materials by the end of the week, and work would speed up drastically once it arrived.

Morgana reports that the Druids have only seen what she has, but they’ve promised to spread the word, and try to gather any extra information. They would be sending a few more healers once some more of the Clans had gathered together.

All in all, it’s been very successful. Despite the Kingdom only being one day into preparations for a full scale war, things are going smoothly, and none of them are feeling the pressure of panic in their skulls.

The meeting only lasts as long as dinner does, everyone still having important tasks to complete before it was time to sleep.

Other than Merlin and Arthur, Gaius is the last to leave the room, looking back and saying (with a raised eyebrow, of course):

“I’ve left everything you’ll need in The King’s chambers, do you wish for me to join you and oversee it, in case?”

Merlin replies first (not quite sure why he’s blushing):

“No, no it’s fine. Thank you Gaius. We can always send a guard for you if we need anything.” With that, Gaius heads off, and with a deep breath, Merlin stands, and gestures for Arthur to follow.

They make their way to Arthur’s chambers quickly, the silence just a little uncomfortable. Both of them wondering if they should ask the other if they’re sure one last time. Neither of them say anything.

They enter the rooms to see that Gaius has indeed placed everything neatly on the table, one of his old books lying open on a specific age, and two pain relief potions set to the side.

“Merlin are you-

“I’m fine with it, but are you-”

Both of them speak at the same time, before chuckling quietly and pausing. Merlin is the first to speak again:

“It’ll only take a few minutes to put everything together, but then there’s a spell to be said by both of us-”

Arthur widens his eyes in slight panic at that, but Merlin interrupts before he says anything:

“Don’t worry, you can just repeat after me. You’ll have to copy the symbol as well, I’ll need to paint something over your heart, and then you’ll have to paint the corresponding one over mine, you can copy from the book.”

Arthur takes a deep breath in an effort to calm his nerves (it doesn’t work) before replying to a now busy Merlin:

“I’m not magic and I... what if I get it wrong?”

Merlin looks up from the table, and smiles gently before responding:

“Nothing. I mean we’ll probably still get a headache, but other than that... we’d just have to try again tomorrow. No big deal.” He shrugs before looking back down at everything on the table.

Arthur watches him with interest and sits on the opposite side of the table, trying to get a peak at the words or symbols in the book.

After a few minutes, Merlin has a sweet smelling paste in a bowl and two paintbrushes in his hand. He walks round the side of the table, pulling the book towards him, still open. He grabs a stool and stands it in front of him, where he puts the bowl and paintbrushes.

He gestures for Arthur to stand opposite him, and unlaces the loose tunic he’s wearing. He pulls it to the side, exposing the space on his chest over his heart, indicating for Arthur to do the same.

“Right. Our left hands go on the back of each others head,-”

(Arthur struggles not to swallow at that, and nods, pushing the blush down)

“-and they need to stay there the whole time. Our right hands need to be holding a paintbrush each. They need to be over the bowl, crossed over one another, yours on top. I’ll say the spell, bit by bit, you repeat after me. When we speak we need to look at each other. Once the vocal spell has been cast, it’ll get a little glowy in here, but just ignore it, alright? After that, I’ll touch my brush to the paste. You don’t need lots, and the symbol needs to be painted in one motion, so don’t panic if you run out, it doesn’t matter, just keep going. I’ll paint the symbol at the top of the page on your chest, you need to hold still though, keep your hand in place over the bowl. Once I’ve done, I hold my paintbrush over the top of yours, you lower yours into the bowl, and then paint the symbol at the bottom of the page, onto my chest. We don’t have to hold eye contact for that, so you can look down as much as you need to, to copy it right. After it’s done, both paintbrushes can be put down, and we touch foreheads over the bowl. That’ll be the spell done, and we can move back, the pain will only start after all that has been done, and it’ll only last a few minutes, before it begins to lessen. Gaius left us some pain relief. We can practice actually talking to each other later on. Understand all of that?”

Arthur thinks for a just a second, before nodding. He’s very much grateful for all his knight and noble training at this point, he has a good memory for detailed instructions, good enough that not even his nerves could make him forget what to do.

Merlin seems completely unfazed, I suppose because A) in the grand scheme of things, it’s a very simple spell, and B) he’s focussing more on the magical aspect than the fact that basically every step of this spell, was increasingly intimate.

Arthur tries to force his mind to do the same, as Merlin receives his nod. The Sorcerer picks up his paintbrush, and cups the back of Arthur’s head, nodding at Arthur to do the same.

Arthur follows his instructions to the letter. He concentrates so much on repeating exactly what Merlin said, and painting the symbol exactly like it was drawn in the book, that he doesn’t notice Merlin’s fond smile on him.

Arthur has always pursed his lips slightly when focusing, and it’s one of the many small mannerisms that Merlin struggles to look away from.

It comes time for them to touch foreheads, and Arthur takes a deep breath as he feels Merlin pull him forward (and he does the same to Merlin).

They hold eye contact, and Arthur has to hold in a gasp at the feel of Merlin’s magic flowing through him from the moment their heads meet. Merlin holds them there for a few seconds, before letting go and stepping back, Arthur following suit.

Within seconds, both of them are doubled over and groaning, hands clutching their heads as the feeling of warm, gentle magic is replaced by a splitting headache.

Like Merlin had said, it only lasted for a couple minutes at that high intensity, but it feels like forever.

At long last, the stabbing agony turns into a dull ache. Still in a great deal of pain, but not so much that they can’t open their eyes and head over to the table to down their pain relief potions.

At Arthur’s vague gesture, the both of them head over to the two armchairs in front of the fire, and they collapse in their respective seat, each holding their heads in their hands.

(Arthur had the second comfy chair moved to his chambers after a year or so of Merlin always sitting in his, when he first stated working for him. Merlin noticed, but never mentioned it, and the new chair, though it was never said out loud, became his.)

Arthur speaks (more like groans) after a few minutes:

“I thought those potions were supposed to help?”

“Well, it’s magical pain. Curing it isn’t an exact science. Plus the pain is sort of part of the spell, it’ll have mostly faded by the morning. I can always put together something stronger if it stops us from sleeping.”

Arthur looks up at Merlin for the first time as he begins to speak again:

“So... did it work? I feel a little odd but I don’t know if that’s the headache, or whatever happened when we touched heads, or what?”

Merlin looks up, and raises his eyebrow, before saying, wordlessly:

“Yeah. It worked.”

Arthur widens his eyes at that, before scrunching his face up (Merlin just about manages to not laugh at him) in concentration, and staring at Merlin intensely:

“Am I doing it? Merlin can you hear thiiiiiiiis? Merliiiiiii-”

Merlin laughs, before actually saying:

“Yes. Gods shut up Arthur, yes you’re doing it. It’s not exactly difficult.”

Arthur joins in his laughter:

“Sorry sorry, I just wanted to make sure. What now, is that?”

“I mean, yeah, we should probably-” he huffs slightly:

“We should probably practice. You need to get used to doing it over longer distances, and whilst we’re concentrating on other things, so you don’t get caught off guard. We can just keep each other updated across the day tomorrow, that should be plenty of time for you to get used to it.”

Arthur puts his “concentration face” on again as:

“Yes you’re probably right. Just don’t say anything stupid whilst I’m in a meeting, can’t be distracted by your idiocy.”

Merlin smirks slightly, but Arthur sits up straighter, and interrupts him before he can say anything:

“Can we do the same with images? Like could we show each other what we were seeing? I imagine that would come in very handy.”

Merlin furrows his eyebrows slightly:

“It’s headache inducing, and takes a lot more energy and concentration, but we could, if it was an emergency. I’ve never done it before. We’ll have to practice at some point, if we get a quiet day.”

Arthur nods in thought, and waves around the room, focussing on the window and the laid, but cold, fireplace:

“Could you...?”

Merlin nods his head, his eyes flashing gold as the curtains draw themselves and the fireplace bursts in to roaring flames.

“Thank you.” is spoken is Merlin’s head as Arthur once again puts his head in his hands, grumbling as he rubs his temples. The conversation had helped distract for a moment, but both of them still had terrible headaches.

“Something tells me it won’t take long, you’re already using it like it’s second nature. Though you’ll have to keep an eye on that, remember we have to actually speak out loud to other people, still.”

Arthur hums, but doesn’t look up. Merlin takes that as a cue to end the conversation, and uses magic to wave over the book he was currently reading.

The Sorcerer pulls his feet up on the chair (his chair), and settles in to read another chapter, opposite from the King, who stares into the fire, deep in thought.

Arthur doesn’t take anything that the war declaration said to heart, he knows he’s done right by his people, and on good days, he’s even proud of his accomplishments, as opposed to feeling like he’s still atoning for his father’s evils.

But still. The fact that someone was this opposed to Camelot’s new found prosperity was disturbing, not only politically, but personally. What of the people under this neighbour-tyrant’s rule? Are they suffering? They will surely feel the fallout of this war more than Camelot’s people.

Arthur was caught between guilts. It would be far too dangerous to offer refuge from this tyrant’s rule, it would undoubtedly be taken advantage of by spies and usurpers. But could he, in good conscience, leave those people to suffer under whoever would replace him? When Camelot inevitably prevailed?

These thoughts plague Arthur for a while, and he’s only broken from his spiralling worries when a thump to his side, has him look up rapidly.

He lets out a quiet chuckle as he realises Merlin has fallen asleep in the other armchair (in Merlin’s chair), the heavy book dropping to the floor.

Arthur gets up quietly, stretching his back, and noting that while his head still hurts, it isn’t nearly as painful as it used to be.

He wonders over to his bed, dragging two blankets back to the chairs by the fire.

One, he drapes over Merlin. 

Arthur stands over him, and gently strokes the hair back from his face, smiling fondly as his former-manservant shuffles slightly, leaning into his hand, and mumbles unintelligibly in his sleep.

The other, he wraps around himself before settling back into his own chair, resuming the contemplative staring into the fire. Though this time, he’s thinking on the gap between him and Merlin, and how small it had gotten over the years.

You’d think that such a train of thought would be focused on the big things: the battles, the near death experiences, the emotional speeches... the outburst in the woods. But no. They barely crossed his mind. Rather, Arthur was thinking on the small things: the small smile Merlin saved for hurt children when he called them brave, the fire in his eyes when he challenged an arsehole councilman, the pride on his face when Morgana succeeded in her lessons.

Knowing of Merlin’s magic had been an important stepping stone, but a stepping stone nonetheless. Since then, in the time that had passed, he had learnt all the seemingly unimportant things that made Merlin, Merlin.

His favourite colour was blue (blue like the sky and blue like Avalon and blue like the cover of his favourite book (blue like Arthur’s eyes, not that Arthur knew that)).

His favourite season was spring (spring with flowers and baby animals and the world breathing around you. Arthur could almost see Merlin vibrating in time with the world at spring, which didn’t surprise him, once he learnt how tied to nature his magic was).

His favourite holiday was Yuletide (Yuletide with family and dancing and singing and true freedom, all ending in a new beginning, the world getting to start again, in a small way).

His birthday was the first day of the new year (truly, a new year, and a new beginning).

His favourite food is blueberries (but really, he loves any sweet fruit. Never one for actual candy though, maybe he just wasn’t used to such luxuries. Arthur found himself wanting to provide Merlin with every luxury he could ever want).

His childhood was full of mischief and fear (running around pranking people with Will all day, and going home in the evening to find nightmares filled with red cloaks and smoke and a pyre just for him).

Arthur had spent the last nine months making sure that Merlin would never have such nightmares again.  He came damn close to changing the Pendragon colours when Merlin told him of the Red Cloak detail.

Before long Arthur also finds himself nodding his head, but moving to his bed means waking Merlin up and sending him away, and honestly? Arthur would happily wake up with a crick in his neck, if it meant he could fall asleep to the sounds of Merlin, gently snoring through the night.

With that final thought, he finally drifts to sleep in his armchair, warmed by the fire, and Merlin’s presence.

~

The next morning, King Arthur, flanked by his Court Sorcerer, his Court Seer, and his First Knight, announces to a large crowd the news of the impending war.

The people are worried, but he speaks to them honestly, and they respect that. Arthur tells them of the preparations being made: the outer villages already being warned, the partnership with the Druids, the preparations of both medical supplies and the tools of war.

As they thought, word spreads quickly. The city is bustling with people. No matter the war declaration, work still has to be done, but the air is abuzz with gossip and chatter. Arthur is thankful, for the lack of panic, and sends a grateful smile to Merlin when:

“You did good. They respect, and trust you. Be proud.” echoes in his head.

~

Time passes

After a week or so, the first refugees from the outer villages start arriving, and a few days later, Elyan, Gwaine, and Lancelot make it back, having delivered the notice to all of the outlying settlements.

Like Gwen had said, work in the forgery greatly sped up, and the armoury was being stocked up.

With the help of all the Druid Healers, Gaius’ preparation of the infirmary was going quickly, and he was pleased with the progress.

Morgana was seeing bits and pieces of what The Magicians (M+M and the Druids, named by Gwaine) interpreted to be the big battle, but weren’t seeing how it would start, or how it would end.

It took the people of Camelot (including Arthur) a while to get used to it, but Merlin also had Kilgharrah and Aithusa doing daily fly overs of the whole kingdom. 

Magic wasn’t illegal in the opposing kingdom, but was taken advantage of by the crown, and Merlin didn’t want to risk them sneaking up on Camelot somehow, without anyone noticing until it was too late.

Merlin did indeed check on the tunnels like he wanted. He made doubly sure that he knew where all the exits were, and the best ways to defend them. As far as he knew, no one outside the castle knew they were there, so they could be used as an emergency evacuation plan, hopefully with the opposition taking a while to catch on.

Though Arthur liked to remind Merlin that that sort of action probably wouldn’t be necessary. The fighting would hopefully take place no where near the actual city, and even if they did, Camelot was still stronger than their opponent.

Over this time, Merlin and Arthur continued to take advantage of their mental link. Unless in the presence of other people, they spoke almost exclusively in their heads.

Arthur’s poker face was getting much better as well. Merlin's constant snarky comments during council meetings was definitely the main source of practice.

It was during such a meeting, that Morgana burst in, and looked between Merlin and Arthur frantically, before saying:

“I’ve seen it. It’s coming!” Arthur reacts first, yelling at the council:

“Everyone out, right now!-”

He then turns his attention to one of the guards:

“Go fetch Sirs Gwaine, Elyan, Percival, and Lancelot. They should be on the training ground, hurry!” (luckily, this was a rare meeting that everyone else in The Gang was already attending)

With that the guard rushes out, and the remaining members of the council (Arthur, Gwen, Gaius, Merlin, Leon, and now Morgana) rush to their side room.

As they enter, Merlin’s eyes flash gold, and he waves his hand, pushing the table and all but one of the chairs to the side of the room.

The last chair he moves to sit right in the middle, and Morgana quickly settles on it, closing her eyes.

A few minutes later, the knights come rushing in, Gwen murmuring quietly:

“Morgana has seen something, I think her and Merlin want to try and show us.”

Merlin nods to Leon, and he locks the door behind him.

The Sorcerer thrusts his arm towards the floor, and mutters a spell under his breath. His eyes flash gold, and soon enough, the room is filled with steam so thick, no one can see even a foot in front of them. They hear Merlin speak through the fog:

“Alright Morgana, just like we practiced. Focus on what you saw, and push it out of your mind, and onto the steam. Keep your breathing slow, and try to keep things chronological, clear your mind and think of nothing else.”

Morgana hums, and the group hear her take a deep breath (certainly calmed by the fact that Gwen and made her way to her, and had placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, receiving a grateful smile from Merlin).

Within moments, everyone begins to see shapes moving in the fog, and hear sounds echoing around the room.

It takes a minute or two for things to come into focus, and the fog seems to sharpen. The Gang find themselves stood in the middle of a field, all in grey. Everything is slightly blurry, and if they squint, they can see the walls of the room around them through the illusion. Arthur speaks:

“This is where the battle happens?-” 

A nod from Morgana, who still sits in a chair with closed eyes, prompts Arthur to continue:

“Does anyone recognise it?” Gwaine speaks first, snapping himself out of the shock at what was happening:

“Yeah, I do. I rode through it on the way back from handing out the notices. It’s a huge meadow maybe a three days ride to the North?”

Before anyone can reply, figures, also in grey, start to fade in around them, the first to come into focus being Merlin, closely followed by Arthur stood next to him. The real Arthur stares, obviously slightly disconcerted:

“Ok... that’s a bit weird...”

The fog!M+A look serious, glancing at each other quickly and nodding, before walking in opposite directions.

Fog!Arthur fades, the scene following fog!Merlin as he stalks across the field, before stopping suddenly. He frowns slightly, before seeming to look straight at real!Merlin, and saying:

“I’m sorry. But it’s coming. I can’t stop it, I tried. This is the only way. Just... relax... it’ll hurt less. Four days.”

Real!Merlin frowns, but gasps and takes step back as fog!Merlin looks at him meaningfully, before taking a deep breath and turns away, continuing to walk.

The weather changes, beginning to rain, and if everyone wasn’t so preoccupied by what had just happened, they would’ve laughed at fog(future?)!Merlin going “Oh for fucks sake, why am I always right?” under his breath.

Suddenly, the scene changes entirely. 

On the floor lies a body, on his side, but face down, a sword through his back, poking out through his chest. Whoever it was had been attacked from behind. Rain still pours.

If anyone had looked up, they would’ve noticed the meadow completely free of other bodies. A battlefield that had apparently held only one fight.

The Gang jumps, as they hear a yell, and turn to see fog!Arthur race towards a figure no one had noticed.

Fog!Arthur cuts them down quickly, barely paying attention, before falling to his knees next to the body:

“No.... no no no, Come on Merls, don’t do this to me.”

Everyone apart from Merlin gasps at this, watching as fog!Arthur turns the body over.

A vacant fog!Merlin stares up at the sky, unmoving, eyes glassy, blood trickling from his mouth, as fog!Arthur continues to mutter to himself unintelligibly.

Before anyone can react, the scene fades again, completely this time.

The fog melts into the floor, the room around them revealed again, as Morgana slumps in her seat, breathing deeply.

No one looks away from the spot where Merlin’s body had been until Merlin interrupts the tense silence:

“That’s not... good.” He doesn’t look scared, despite finding out that he would apparently die at some point in the near future.

Everyone looks up at him in shock, tears in Arthur’s eyes, and fear and sadness in Morgana’s, but before anyone can say anything, he speaks again:

“There’s a storm brewing at the moment, it should start in about four days, that’ll be what he... what I meant earlier. No armies. That would explain why Morgana hasn’t seen the original Bloody Battle visions in a while... no battle? Hmm.” He seems to be muttering to himself, but looks up as Arthur grabs his shoulders:

“You won’t be going. You can stay back and help at the main infirmary.”

Everyone nods in agreement, but Morgana shakes her head, before saying (obviously tired):

“That’s not how it works. The more.... solid, my visions are, the more likely they are to happen. I’ve never had a vision that clear. And you heard what Merlin... or Future Merlin, said. This is happening.” She looks to Merlin with fear in her eyes:

“You’re going to die. In four days.”

The room once again looks to Merlin, all very confused at why he looks more thoughtful than anything. He shrugs off Arthur’s hands  and paces slightly. He let’s out a thoughtful hum before looking at Morgana:

“I don’t suppose you can remember anything about that sword? Did it seem strange to you or... just a sword?” At Morgana’s confused expression, he points absentmindedly to his own chest.

Arthur interrupts:

“What does that matter? It was a sword, Merlin, through your chest. I don’t care what either of you say. We’re keeping you away from that meadow. I’ll lock you up if I have to, you’re not going.”

Merlin looks at him apologetically:

“Of course it matters. Depending on whether whoever that sword belongs to has done anything funky to it or not, I’ll just wake up again-”

He waves his hand casually:

“-and besides. You have nothing here that I couldn’t break out of, Arthur.  There really are only one or two things that can tie me down properly, and I’m sure as shit not gonna tell you what they are now. Morgana? The sword?”

She looks shocked at his casual approach before replying:

“Uhh... it didn’t feel evil or anything. It just felt like a sword, but I wouldn’t bet on it. You’ve seen how my meditations have been going recently, not everything is in focus, I could have missed an enchantment easily. I would tell you not to risk it but.... I know you. And that vision was clear. Nothing is going to stop you from... that.”

Merlin nods thoughtfully, but Arthur seems to be getting more panicked, but before he can speak, Leon interrupts:

“Wait... backtrack a minute. What do you mean “wake up again”? Merlin there was a sword through your chest. That was very much a... killing, blow.”

Merlin sighs and looks around the room, finally seeming to notice how horrified everyone looked:

“You guys... remember that I’m immortal right? Unless someone stole one of my dragons without me realizing, and made another Excalibur type weapon, again, without me realising... then I should be fine.”

Arthur bursts, grabbing Merlin once again:

“Merlin that... that was not fine! The future me was freaking out, and you weren’t waking up! There has to be another way. I won’t risk it.”

Merlin ignores him, looking instead to Gwaine:

“You said it was a three days ride away? To the North?” Gwaine nods hesitantly, and Merlin looks towards Leon:

“Have the army gather outside the city gates, but tell them that they’re not going anywhere. It looks like me and Arthur are going to be able to sort this out without any... or... you know... without any permanent bloodshed. But they should be ready just in case. Morgana, take tonight to rest, and build your strength. You’re going to be staying here, the last line of defence, if it comes to it.-”

He’s interrupted by Elyan:

“NO. Look I saw it as well as anyone in this room. But we are not leaving you. We are a family, we hold Camelot in our hands, and we won’t leave you to do this alone. We’ll all be there. You want us to stand back and watch? Fine. But you and Arthur are not doing this without us. Not this time.”

Morgana forces herself to stand, with Gwen’s support. Everyone in the room gives a decisive nod as she speaks:

“He’s right. Nothing you can do, Lord Emrys, will stop us from following you to that meadow.” Merlin looks about to argue, but she narrows her eyes at him, and he deflates.

He looks around the room, at his family, and sees their faces. All set in stone. They had just seen his body, and they weren’t going to let him do it alone, not this time.

He nods slightly, pretending that his eyes aren’t filling with tears. He reaches up and squeezes Arthur’s hand, still on his shoulder, as he sadly smiles:

“...Ok. I... thank you. If we want to get there in time, we’ll need to leave today.” 

“We need them all distracted so we can slip away.” echoes through Merlin’s head, but before he can respond, Gwen speaks up, her voice strong and determined:

“I’ll go tell the stables to get our horses ready immediately, and grab some supplies from the kitchen. Everyone meet in the courtyard in half an hour.”

Percival:

“I’ll go to the stables, you head straight for the kitchens and I’ll meet you there after and help.” Gwen gives a firm nod, and the two of them leave. Gaius speaks up next:

“I’ll gather some medical supplies, and fetch some things from my chambers, and then let the infirmary staff know what’s going on.” and he leaves without waiting for a response. Morgana speaks up next:

“I’m going to grab a change of clothes for everyone. You (gesturing to Arthur) need to grab your armour.”

She looks to Elyan questioningly:

“Yeah I’ll help. I’ll grab spares for the knights, you grab something for yourself, Merlin, The King, and Gwen.” The two of them leave, exiting the room and heading in different directions.

Arthur speaks next, but directs it to Leon:

“Have the armies gather around the city, the bulk of the force on the North side. Tell them what’s happening. Hopefully we won’t need them but... if we fail, they need to be ready.”

Leon says nothing, but gives a firm nod, and marches out of the room, heading to ring the emergency bell at the training grounds.

“Well that wasn’t too difficult. What about these two?” Is what manifests in Merlin’s head this time, and he replies quickly:

“I don’t know, but quickly. If you take too long, they’ll know you’re just coming up with excuses to get rid of them.”

Arthur looks to Lancelot and Gwaine, but before he can say anything, Gwaine laughs and interrupts him:

“Absolutely not, princess. There’s nothing left to be done, you two just want to sneak off without anyone noticing, and we won’t let you.”

Arthur huffs at that, and Merlin raises an eyebrow at him:

“I told you they wouldn’t fall for it.” Arthur gives his Sorcerer a withering glare:

“Shut up, Merlin.” Merlin just laughs in response, ignoring the confused looks on Gwaine and Lancelot’s faces.

Lancelot drops the look, and speaks:

“Ok I don’t know what that was, but Gwaine’s right. ALL of us, are going to your chambers so you can get your armour, and then ALL of us are heading down to the courtyard.”

Arthur huffs once again before marching from the room, his Sorcerer and two knights trailing closely behind him.

~

As agreed, 30 minutes later, all of them are gathered in the courtyard. Morgana and Elyan had packed each of the horses with spare clothes, and the food that Percival and Gwen had bought. 

It wasn’t much, but it would do them for the first night, they would definitely have to hunt whilst they travelled, but that’s not unfamiliar to them.

With one last look at each other, they ride out towards the Northern City Gates, Arthur leading the way. 

After Leon had informed the knights of what was going on, he had called an emergency council meeting, and informed them as well. They weren’t happy, but Leon put his “in-charge” voice on, and told them to deal with it.

They reached the gates, and Arthur nodded at a grave Gwaine to take the lead. Not a word has been spoken since they met up in the courtyard, and they ride out in silence. 

Merlin glances at Arthur next to him:

“Everything is going to be ok, Arthur.”

He gets no response.

I feel kinda bad leaving it there, but just like I thought it would, it was getting a tad too long. 

THIS IS COMPLETED!! Part 5 (final part) has been posted.

If y’all want my thoughts on anything specific, let me know :)