#all because he loved Arthur above all else

[expertfool]

i can’t really get over douglas adams rewriting adam and eve as ford and arthur. there are many things about it that blow my mind. that they are both men. that it was the 80s. that arthur is presented as eve. that it is all intentional. that trillian—who is the other last human being along with arthur—could’ve been there instead of ford, more accurately portraying the adam and eve story, and there is literally no good reason for her not being there as zaphod, ford, arthur, and trillian had all been in that time machine and yet douglas adams pairs ford and arthur off instead of the last two humans (and notably male and female). the only reason trillian is not there in place of ford is because douglas adams specifically did not want her to be. she continues to be a part of the plot in the book, although it is not critical to the plot (in the restaurant at the end of the universe) that she be there with zaphod instead of with arthur (though it’s better for her character), so the choice of who is paired with who is very purposefully based on relationship and not plot requirements.

i think this point is even furthered by mostly harmless—arthur and trillian do end up conceiving a child together, but arthur is not even there at the conception of his own child. he is completely without any romantic or sexual desire or intentions towards trillian. donating sperm is the most sexless way of conceiving a child, and douglas adams chooses to do this after intentionally pairing ford and arthur as adam and eve. when arthur finds out he has a child, he doesn’t think of himself as missing out on a relationship with trillian, instead asks “what about zaphod?” without jealousy or frustration. despite the sexless-ness and detachment of the act of donating sperm that was never even intended for child conception, arthur loves his daughter unconditionally and without reserve.

these points paired with the scene where arthur is given a prayer tailored to him in mostly harmless, “protect me from knowing what i don’t need to know. protect me from even knowing that there are things to know that i don’t know. protect me from knowing that i decided not to know about the things that i decided not to know about…it’s what you pray silently inside yourself anyway, so you may as well have it out in the open…there’s another prayer that goes with it…protect me from the consequences of the above prayer.” just really lend itself a lot to the idea that arthur was maybe possibly intended to be read as gay. or at least makes it very easy to read arthur as gay.

i’m also fascinated with the contrast of ford and arthur portrayed as adam and eve eating the apple which would give them the knowledge of good and evil and allow them to understand the consequences—obviously these characters are adults and already know these things, making this metaphor a euphemism for something else—against the prayer arthur receives for himself in mostly harmless. it is like a reversal of what eating the apple in eden achieves. eat the apple, receive awareness of something, three books later receive a prayer for the exact opposite. these things also existing at contrasting times in ford and arthur’s relationship—that ford and arthur had been isolated on a beautiful planet together during the apple in eden bit but had not seen each other in years and had a bad argument in mostly harmless during the time arthur received the prayer. i do think the prayer means something else for arthur in the plot (though actually, douglas adams almost always uses events in his books to have more than one meaning in the series so..), but these things being so intentionally written always makes me wonder if douglas adams meant something about arthur’s sexuality and his relationship with ford.

[mythmerth]

thinking about how some decisions in the show don’t even make sense if you don’t have the context that Merlin and Arthur are deeply in love with each other.

the one that really fucking gets me is when Mordreds life is at stake and Arthur asks Merlin if he would rather have mordred die or accept magic back into Camelot. This is an opinion he values more than any other, an opinion that would change his mind and sway him.

Merlin, described as magic itself, has been tasked the entire. fucking. show. with returning magic to Camelot and pushing Albion into the golden age under Arthur’s rule. This is everything he’s been working towards this entire time- literally. his life, his years and years of protecting Arthur, all (IN THEORY) are because this golden age is what he wanted, and Arthur would have fully listened to him and likely chosen what Merlin chose. Everything he worked for was RIGHT THERE in front of him. It makes absolutely no sense for him not to pick it. But we all know what he picked. So why?

He didn’t do it for Camelot. He didn’t do it for any kind of golden age, or to fulfill the ultimatum of the prophecy in the revival of magic. No. He chose to deny magic and kill mordred solely because he could not bear to watch his love die and was so distraught that it clouded him. Merlin was so afraid of losing Arthur, his friend, his other half, his king, that he denied every goddamn thing he was working for all at the prospect of allowing Arthur to live past the prophecy and not die by mordred’s hand. You can see it through the show- the way Merlin falls deeper for Arthur, the way, to him, the prophecy becomes less about the promised golden age and more about how desperately he wants Arthur to live.

The tragedy of Merlin legitimately only happens because Merlin loved too strongly and protected his king too fiercely. His overflowing love was his bane, and it led to Arthur’s death. People who watch the show and don’t view it under that lens are missing so much.

…Merlin is literally a show about condemning your soulmate’s life because you loved them so deeply and recklessly, like what the actual fuck

[jamminvroomvroom]

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 2

LN x fem!leclerc reader

PART 2 OF 2 -> read part 1 linked HERE!

here we go again guys, you know the drill! follows directly on from part 1 because of the silly word count :(

warnings: warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!)

part 2: 6.1k words

8. i have you.

“you never told me why.” lando blurts.

the sun is setting outside, the pair of you sprawled out over your hotel bed. he’d been in your room for a few hours, tangled with you between the linen sheets. it’s thursday in brazil, and he’d made a beeline for your hotel room after media day wrapped up. he couldn’t explain the anxiety he felt, pooling thickly in the pit of his belly, but it subsided as soon as he saw your pretty face, peeking through the crack in your door.

he’d stayed after, a habit that had been developing of late, when you were both at home in monaco, but it was unusual on a race weekend. you’d pulled out your laptop to do some work, and chucked the remote at him, telling him to put something on netflix. he’d just smiled and obliged, more than willing to stay with you.

“told you ‘why’ what?” you look up from your laptop, confused.

“why you haven’t really been with anyone else.” his voice is small, scared he’s overstepping but he figures he’s seen you naked one too many times to get shy.

“oh.”

you stare off into the dim light of the room for a second, collecting your thoughts, reliving it all.

“you don’t need to tell me, sorry if that was weird-“

“no, uh, it’s fine. it’s a bit tragic really, embarrassing.” you start. “there was a guy, a couple of years ago. he was on my course at uni. he was perfect, flowers on my doorstep once a week, romantic dinners overlooking the harbour.” you reminisce, smiling sadly. “we went on a few dates and he was selling it all perfectly, it was like he was telling me everything i wanted to hear. i trusted him, so i slept with him. it was my first time.” your breath hitches. “next thing i know, he’s telling everyone that will listen that he’s best friends with charles leclerc and that he’s fucked an f1 drivers sister. and, you know, monaco is small. charles and arthur beat the shit out of him.” you laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, which are now glossed over with fresh, stinging tears.

lando slides closer to you, tentatively wrapping an arm over your shoulder.

“it’s always been hard, you know? people trying to get close to me so that they could get close to charles. all my life, it’s been the same shit. i just wanted someone to want me for me, just once.”

you’re crying now, and lando wants to die for causing it.

“hey, ‘m so sorry, honey. i shouldn’t have asked.” he shushes you, pulling you close. he kisses the top of your head gently, and you snuggle further into him.

“no, it’s okay. wanted you to know. that’s why i like this. us.” it comes out just above a whisper.

“that’s why i like us too.” he murmurs. you look up at him, scanning his face.

“what’s your story? charles said something to me once about a bad breakup.” you ask softly. lando sighs.

“she wanted the lifestyle more than she wanted me.” he shrugs.

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. i’m better off.” i have you, he wants to add.

“i like the fact that we can’t hurt eachother that way.” you breathe, voicing the sentiment that you’ve both shared since the very first time you were together.

“i like it too, honey. more than you know.”

-

9. ache.

a weight lifts off of him in vegas.

brazil had been a shit show, one that he wanted to forget. one that left him awake for two days avoiding your calls, until you snapped him out of it by showing up at his place anyway, and giving him the best head of his fucking life. he’d slept like a damn baby after that.

he had a week off, after, which he spent in your bed more than his own, and then he was promptly off to nevada, awaiting your arrival a few days later and fixated on clawing something back after brazil, even if it was just pride.

well, that fixation didn’t amount to much, but at least you were there, somewhere, watching and waiting. charles is a wreck, though, storming away from parc ferme, which means you’ll be with him, instead of with lando. he feels selfish at the way it stings.

he’s exhausted when he leaves the track, dead on his feet in the elevator up to his room. he can’t bring himself to join max or george and celebrate. he’ll make it up to both of them another time. his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, recognising your contact. he doesn’t even fight the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

packed something special for you. you gonna come find out what?

he’s in love with you. has been for a while.

the attention you pay to him for himl, the way you tease him and laugh with him and let him lose himself in unravelling you. your quick wit, mesmerising eyes, the way you switch languages when he scrambles your brain and you can’t think hard enough to keep speaking english. he’s a goner, and he knows it.

he doesn’t bother replying, just makes a beeline for your room. he’s spent enough time in it already this weekend to make it there without much thought. you’d even left him a keycard, which he retrieves with nimble fingers from his wallet, letting himself into your suite.

he calls your name, rounding the corner and he could die right there, just at the sight of you.

you’re lamplit, knelt on the middle of your bed, wrapped in nothing but intricate, baby pink lace.

“my god.” he pants, jaw dropped. you’re ethereal, gorgeous, a delicate gift wrapped up just for him to open.

“do you like it?” your eyes are wide, daunted.

“what the fuck did i do to deserve you?” he stalks to the end of the bed, shrugging off his jacket, his hoodie, until he’s left in a white vest and team joggers. he kneels down at the foot of the bed, ready to crawl over you. “i love it.”

you flush, grinning sweetly as he crawls over you, pushing you back into the mattress.

“you did this all for me?” lando asks, stroking over a lacy bra strap.

“thought you deserved it.” you purr, but your facade slips for just a minute. “is this okay? never done this before.” you glance up at him with round, doe eyes that make him swallow hard, melting further into you.

“‘s perfect.” he promises. “you’re so perfect.”

lando kisses you softly, his warm skin pressing into yours. you moan quietly into his mouth, holding him close. he thumbs over the lace adorning your bust, stroking it. you squirm every time he brushes your skin.

“wanna be on top. wanna try it.” you pant into his mouth, watching closely as he groans, eyes fluttering as he imagines the sight.

“only if you keep this on.” he bargains, flipping the pair of you over.

you sit up on his lap, smoothing your hands over his chest as his find your hips. he steadies you, playing with the band of your panties, tracing over the pattern.

“can’t believe you did this all for me.” lando coos, taking the opportunity to take it all in, you, flustered and breathtaking, straddling him. dressed up all for him, all his.

“you deserve it.”

“do you think you’re ready for me? lemme see.” his hand skates between your thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers against the crotch of your underwear. he applies pressure against the wet patch that he feels, licking his lips. “were you thinking about me when you were getting all dressed up? thinking about how i’d touch you?”

“yeah,” you nod frantically, grinding down on his fingers. “wanted you all day but i wanted to be good for you.” you pout. you’re gonna kill him, he thinks.

“always good for me.” he applies more pressure, toying with your clit through the lace, the sensation making you quiver, bucking your hips.

“just want you inside of me, lando. i’m ready.” you plead, palming over his sweats. your hand travels further, finding his between your legs. you tug your underwear to the side, and he feels just how wet you are for him.

“you sure, baby?”

there he goes again. baby. your tummy twists.

“yeah, lan, i want it to hurt a little.” you sound so sweet for him and it shreds the rest of his self restraint.

lando sits up just enough to rip off his vest, taps your thigh so that you lift up for a second, long enough for him to shrug off his sweats. when he’s bare, he paws at your hips, helping you to adjust. your fingers wrap around his length and he jolts, mouth falling open as you swipe the head of him through your slit. you sink down, taking just the tip, but it feels like the first time all over again, the angle creating delicious pressure that burns through your pelvis. your eyes squeeze shut and he swirls his fingers over your sides.

“take it easy for me, love.” lando urges, looking up at you with concern.

“i like it. promise.” you choke out, eyes rolling back at the pleasure, the burn.

you continue to slide down on him, sinking further and further until you’re flush against his pelvis. you roll your hips experimentally, your clit brushing against the thatch of hair at his base and you squirm, sensitive.

“want me to help?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“wanna do this for you.” you pant, rocking your hips against his.

the angle is brutal, so intoxicatingly good, and you can already feel yourself leaking all over him. you build up a rhythm, slow and steady, watching the ripple of his abs everytime you sink back down on him, the way his curls fan over his forehead, the veins in his arms bulging as he grips at your waist tighter and tighter.

“you look so pretty, baby, taking me like this.” lando sighs, helping you pick up the pace. you cry out, leaning backwards, fingers gripping his firm thighs.

“it’s so good, you feel so good.” you whine, arching your back.

he’s entranced by the way your breasts bounce, fighting against the skimpy bra and he sinks his teeth into his plush bottom lip, eyeing you hungrily. one hand leaves your waist and travels to the cups of your bra, tugging so harshly that you hear the threads break. he frees your tits, watching in delight as they fall out of the lace confines.

“you’re so sexy, honey, look so beautiful. you’re all mine, aren’t you? this is all for me, right?” lando’s eyes roll back in his head when he feels the way you clamp down around him at his words. he’s gonna fill you up, he thinks, mark you as his from the inside out.

“yeah, lan, all yours.” you slur, fighting the urge to cum. “‘m all yours.”

he can see that you’re tiring, the ache setting in, so he pulls you forward, until you’re chest to chest, wrapped up his his thick arms.

“i’ve got you, baby.” he swears, holding you close as he rolls his hips, fucking up into you.

it’s all too much like this, the constant pressure on your clit, the head of his cock tapping against your cervix, the thrumming of his heart, the cold sweat of his chest peaking your nipples. you let out a strangled cry of his name, and you see white, your nerve endings overstimulated and fried. all you can hear is his voice, pulling your through it and out the other side.

“did so good for me, baby, such a good girl. took it all so well, love.”

you’re limp on top of him, a dead weight curled around him like a life force. there’s nothing that could make him move you, and wouldn’t let you go unless you asked. you lay there in silence, your mixed release leaking out of you. your heart rate steadies, about as much as it can with him around, and you feel yourself blinking away sleep, exhausted. lando notices, of course he does.

“let’s clean up.” he suggests, sitting up carefully with you on his lap.

“carry me?” you request sleepily, a lazy smile painting your face.

“as you wish.” he jokes, bowing his head.

your legs wrap around his waist as he shuffles off of the bed, and he walks to the bathroom, setting you down on the marble sink top. he leans into the shower, adjusting the temperature and turning the water on. he lets it heat up and turns back to you. no words are exchanged as he peels your ruined panties off, as he unhooks your bra and drops its all onto the counter. he tugs you off of the side, guiding your under the stream of water, the warmth making you relax into him. he’s more than happy to prop you up.

“my legs ache.” you giggle, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“was it worth it?”

“definitely.”

“good.”

he cleans you, massaging soap into your skin, and washing it off. you stay close while he does the same for himself, passing him different products as you clean up together. it’s quiet, nothing needs to be said, and you wonder if this is what life with him would be like. domestic and easy.

“stay.” you let yourself ask, croaking the request out into the silence. you’re both drying off, and he’s gathering he’s clothes.

“i thought you’d want me to go.” he looks like a deer in headlights. cute.*

“stay.” your repeat, and this time it sounds like a plea. he slides his boxers on.

“okay.”

he’s like a furnace under the covers and you can’t help but curl into his side, legs wrapping around eachothers. there’s no going back from this, you fear. he’s thinking the same thing. you kiss his chest as you fall asleep, just a quick press of your lips to his pec, but it makes him hot all over. if the lights were still on, you’d see him blushing. he returns the favour with careful peck to your hairline. you both nuzzle impossibly closer.

“has it ever been like that for you?” you whisper into the darkness. you hear the change in his breathing.

the question is loaded; have you ever felt like this before? was that just sex to you? what are we? what is this? do you want me how i want you?

“never.” it’s barely a whisper

you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

-

when you wake up, he stirs, bronzed arms tightening around you.

“go back to sleep.” he grumbles, pulling your back to his chest.

“i need to catch my flight.” you reply, turning around to face him.

you’re stunned when you see him smushed into the pillow, lips pouty, eye lashes fluttering to clear away sleep. he looks so pretty in the morning light, and you wish you’d asked him to stay the night sooner.

“just fly with me.” lando mutters. you freeze.

“lan, you know i can’t do that. what would that look like?”

“who cares?” he half shrugs behind you, and you wriggle away, sit up in bed.

“uh, me? i care, lando. i can’t be seen flying around with some other driver, do you know how much that would complicate things?”

“some other driver.” he huffs. that gets his attention, and he sits up. “what so we can sneak around, and you’ll let me fuck you, but being on an airplane together is crossing the line?” he grunts sarcastically. you narrow your eyes at him.

“don’t say it like that.” you scold.

“how should i say it, then? i thought maybe this meant something more to you.” he’s standing from the bed now, hurt thick in his voice, and you panic, reaching out for him, but he’s finding his clothes.

“it does! it does mean something to me but… lando, i can’t put charles in that position. i can’t put myself in that position.” you reason weakly, standing and rapidly moving towards him. you pull him to face you, holding onto his shoulders. “don’t go, please.” you whisper, cupping his cheek.

he stares down at you, dejected, a wounded animal, and pushes your hands off of him.

“i, uh. i care about you. a lot. too much, i think. i can’t go through this again, and you can’t hurt your brother. so…” he breathes shakily.

“so?” you plead, shaking your head. “don’t do this, we can…”

“i’m not gonna be ‘some other driver’, honey. ‘m sorry.”

“lando-“

“its okay. this was good while it lasted, and i know you’re gonna find what you’re looking for, without all of the, uh,” he gestures around blindly. “the complications.”

“don’t go.” you whisper, catching his hand. tears pool in the corners of your eyes, distorting him.

“go catch your flight.” he smiles sadly, finally dressed, and then he’s gone.

you stand frozen, taking stock of whatever the fuck just happened.

i care about you.

good while it lasted.

you’re gonna find what you’re looking for.

complications.

you choke out a sob, stumble backwards onto the foot of your bed when it hits you.

you’d already found what you were looking for, and now, he was gone.

-

you’re supposed to go straight to qatar with charles, but you beg him to get you a flight home instead.

he can hear that you’ve been crying, and tells you that he’ll kill anyone that you need him to. you promise it’s fine, through even more tears, tell him that you’ll fill him in when he’s got a minute to breathe.

the ticket lands in your inbox and you flee. you spend the twelve hour flight watching love actually, crying into a glass of wine, and wondering if you should get gracie abrams’ lyrics tattooed on your forehead.

i love you, i’m sorry would be quite fitting right about now.

when you land, you don’t even go home, making a beeline for alex and charles’ apartment instead. when alex lets you in, confused to see your face, leo does laps around your feet. you drop your bags and fall into her arms, sob until your throat is raw and your eyes are bloodshot.

“i fucked up.” you wail, breathing hard.

“lando?” she asks, tentative. she has a knowing look, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

“what? how did you-“

“well let’s just say that we saw the DM he sent you, and arthur was actually sat opposite me when you said you were with him.” she admits. you gasp.

“does charles… does he…?”

“oh, sweetie, charles knows nothing. although he did ask me what shoe size you wear after coming to your place a few weeks back. he said something about a pair of birkenstocks that looked huge compared to your other shoes, and i told him that was just the style.” she snorts, and you slap your hand over your forehead.

“oh, jesus.” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“wanna tell me what happened?”

“i don’t even know, he asked me to fly with him and then i said it would complicate things, that i couldn’t been seen with, quote on quote, ‘some other driver.’” you sigh.

“some other driver? oh, girl.”

“yep.”

“were you guys dating…? or?”

“no! lately things had been a bit more,” you pause, gathering your thoughts. “intimate? i don’t know. i definitely have feelings for him.”

alex looks at you sympathetically, strokes your knee soothingly.

“have you told him that?”

“no, i didn’t know how and now he’s done with me.” you wince, a fresh wave of tears pricking your eyes.

“maybe not, sweetie, maybe you if you told him how you felt, he’d understand. is charles what you’re worried about?”

“charles, the fans, all of it.” you whimper.

“the fans can be, well, intense, but take it from me, if lando’s worth it, none of that matters. is he worth it?”

you pause, weighing it all up. the way he’d been with you, so gentle and caring, considerate and interested in you. he’d made you feel safe and satisfied, and everytime you caught him looking at you, you felt that first initial spark all over again. you could laugh with him, push and tease and not just be charles leclerc’s little sister. you look forward to seeing him, feeling him, speaking to him. all of this together feels heavy, but you want to bear it.

“he is.” you whisper, looking at alex nervously. “oh, god, what do i do?”

“i think there’s a paddock pass with your name on it that you should make use of.” she tells you, wrapping you in a tight hug. “and if charles has a problem, tell him he has to go through me.”

-

10. pizza and pasta.

max fewtrell sips his coffee in the hotel lobby, waiting for keegan to join him. it’s hot in qatar, dry and bright, ornate.

his phone buzzes.

message request from: yourusername

HI SORRY ARE YOU IN QATAR????

he probably looks like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his skull.

another message comes through.

this sounds insane and i’m sorry that this is like, the first time we’ve ever spoken, but i need a huge favour. like a really really huge favour.

max scratches the back of his head, pulling a face at his phone. baffled wouldn’t even begin to cover how he feels.

he picks up his phone, and opens the messages.

-

lando over exerts himself keeping away from you. the sprint race had been a breeze compared to staying away, out of your reach. it hurts like hell, but it’s a necessary evil for both your sakes.

he wants to sleep, do nothing else but collapse onto his mattress, phone silenced and curtains drawn as tightly shut as they can go. he unlocks the door to his hotel room. the light flashes green, and he relaxes, finally. until, he doesn’t.

there’s a faint sound coming from down the short corridor that separates his front door from his sleeping area. it’s not max, he’s just left him outside his own hotel room, and it’s not keegan, either, for the same reason. he wonders if he has another stalker, braces himself and picks up the first thing he can find. a shoe. useless, he thinks.

lando creeps down the corridor, poised and ready, jumps out of his skin when you round the corner before he can get there. you yelp, bracing yourself against the wall.

“what the fuck, i thought you were a murderer!” lando huffs, throwing his head back.

somehow, the sight of you is worse than any murderer could ever be.

“putain! god, i’m so sorry! so sorry!” you squeak.

“how did you get in here?”

“funny story,” you tilt your head to the side, trying to look harmless. “max let me in.”

“verstappen?” lando asks, face twisting with confusion.

“no, idiot. fewtrell.” you reply, duh-like. “i can go, i know this is crazy and weird and a total violation, but i had to talk to you.” your voice softens and lando seems to finally relax. he’ll kill max later.

“this is batshit, actually, but i respect the grind.” lando shrugs. “what do you want?” he sounds harsher than intended, closed off, but you suppose you deserve it.

“i’m sorry about what happened last weekend.” you inhale shakily. “i… i care about you a lot, too, and i have done for a while but i was too scared to say it. i realised as soon as you left that i never ever wanna hurt you like that. never want you to feel like i don’t lo- care about you… like that.” you catch yourself, not ready to say certain words. he gets the gist.

“i don’t wanna be some hookup anymore. it was fine at first, when i thought that’s all i could have from you, but i know that it’s not. i want you.” lando states, his words poignant. “whatever pace you need, whatever you want from me, i wanna give it to you.”

the space between you dissipates.

“i saw you, you know, watching me from your garage all those months ago, like you were trying place me.” your voice is barely above a whisper. “admittedly, i kinda wanted to punch you for ruining that dress, but i also, really really secretly thought you were cute.”

“well, if we’re being honest, i really wanted to fuck you the first time i saw you.” he jokes crudely, and you slap his chest. “in my defence, i was blackout drunk.”

“asshole.” you mutter. you’re so close now that his nose bumps yours.

“i think you like it.” he whispers.

“yeah, i really do.”

your lips meet his urgently, homecoming. it’s been too long since you’ve had him in your hands, touched him and felt him breathe against you. the kiss is passionate, frantic, and you know you’re in love with him. you’re certain.

-

an hour later, you’re tucked into bed with him, a movie that you’re not paying attention to playing idly on the tv. pizza crusts lay on a plate, the leftovers of your impromptu dinner date.

you’ve covered your degree, how he got into racing, what you do for work, who you’re friends are, family dynamics.

you learn that his favourite colour actually is yellow, and he learns that you’re favourite drink is red wine. he prefers pizza, you prefer pasta. you like flat whites, and he doesn’t like coffee at all.

“after abu dhabi, i’ll take you on a real date. i promise.” he sounds excited as he says it, and you melt into his side.

“oh yeah?” you ask, looking up at him, your cheeks smushed against his shoulder. he tucks your hair behind your ear, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. he just hums in response, gazing down at you.

“gonna talk to your brothers as well.” he murmurs, dipping down to peck your lips.

“not just yet.” you whisper. he furrows his eyebrows.

“why?” he doesn’t sound upset, maybe a little deflated.

“i wanna enjoy this a bit longer, at least go on a real date before, you know, they kill you.” you keep your tone serious, holding it together well. he bursts out laughing, squeezing you closer.

“and here i was worried that you were ashamed of me.” he’s grinning toothily, boyish and pure, and you kiss him again, deeper.

“never.” you coo.

-

11. daylight.

abu dhabi is a distant memory by the time you get back to monaco. you were happy for your brother and your boyfriend.

yeah, that’s what you get to call him now.

your first date had been effortless and yet so intricately perfect, lando planning it down to the last detail. flowers delivered to you the morning of, picking you up at the door, telling you just how beautiful you looked. your table had been waiting for you, candlelit, dressed immaculately. a bottle of red wine served as the centrepiece, your favourite kind. swoon.

he orders pizza, you order pasta. halfway through, you switch plates.

you wake up the next morning in his arms, content and satiated, still bare from the night before. your phone is buzzing, stirring your both out of your deep sleep. you ignore it.

“c’mere.” he begs, breath fanning out across your neck and you wriggle backwards, further into his arms. your naked skin moulds with his, and you can feel him, ready and waiting against the curve of your ass. he’s still half asleep, and so are you, but you spread your legs just enough for him to swipe himself through your folds and slip right in.

you groan at the stretch, he shushes you soothingly, clinging to your frame. everything is so warm and heightened.

“so ready for me.” he whispers, kissing over your shoulder, hips making the most minimal, languid thrusts that make you dizzy.

“want you like this every morning.” you purr, hiking your top leg up even further. he’s basically on top of you now, his body half covering yours.

lando drags your hips back to meet his, breathing heavily against the back of your neck.

“anytime you want me ‘m here. ‘m yours.” lando mutters, eyes rolling back in his head when you clench around him. lewd sounds are exchanged between your lazy bodies, so worked up, two powder kegs desperate to explode.

it happens in waves, powerful orgasms washing over your bodies like the sunlight through the curtains. it’s bright and warm and leaves you buzzing underneath him, electrified.

“good morning.” you smirk, rolling over to face him.

he’s already sunk back down into the mattress, a satisfied grin on his face, eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks where his eyes have fallen shut. he looks angelic, and if it wasn’t for his devious ways, you’d hail him a saint.

“very good morning, baby.” lando pants, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“you look so pretty.” you breathe, raking your nails through his hair. he groans, shivers of pleasure radiating through his scalp and down his back.

“not as pretty as you.” he surges forward, pinning you to the bed, the pair of you a hazy mess of limbs and laughter, so wrapped up in eachother. he’s peppering you with kisses, all over you face and your chest, further and further down your body.

round two is about to commence, and you’re more than excited, ready to welcome him back between your thighs, when you both here a loud, repetitive thud coming from faraway. lando pulls back, trying to pinpoint the sound.

“is that the door?” he says to himself. “sorry, baby. need to get that.” he frowns apologetically. you sigh, waving your hand in understanding, watching as he grabs a robe.

-

charles nearly chokes on air and fury when he gets the all caps message from arthur, followed by one from lorenzo, then his publicist.

arthur: HAVE YOU SEEN TWITTER? i don’t know if i should laugh or cry

enzo: be nice to her, don’t be a little bitch

publicist: Charles, we will need to address this news immediately and conclude whether the photos are out of context or not. Meeting scheduled on the shared calendar.

first question: what fucking photos? did someone catch him picking his nose in public?

second question: who does he need to be nice too?

third question: can he not go five fucking minutes without some impending media crisis?

he opens twitter and doesn’t need to look hard, because there on his screen is a picture taken the night before of his precious baby sister, and there is lando fucking norris with his tongue down her throat.

alex asks him where he’s going, watching him storm out keys in hand. he doesn’t respond with anything but a growl and a mutter of your name. alex’s eyes go wide, reached for her phone.

to: your number

girl he knows! idk how but he KNOWS!

for once in your life PICK UP THE PHONE

JESUS OKAY i just saw twitter…

OKAY im tracking charles location rn and looks like he’s near lando’s?

MISS LECLERC PLEASE! HELLO?????

it was nice knowing you babe.

-

you pick up your phone as lando leaves the room, scrolling absentmindedly through your notifications. your interest peaks, however, when you see about a million texts from alex, and even more missed call. in fact, you have literally thousands of notifications, and your blood runs cold.

you’d been so careful last night, surely it hadn’t leaked. your blood runs cold when you open your text chain with alex. the aggressive knocking on the door suddenly makes harrowing sense and you spring from the mattress just in time to hear the front door click.

“is she here?” you hear charles bellow, voice laced thickly with anger.

“uh… who?” lando tries, he really does, but he’s not a good liar. you wince, grabbing anything to cover your dignity: lando’s sweats and a t-shirt. you scramble out of the bedroom, sliding down the corridor from the sheer speed you’re moving at.

“fucking hell.” charles sighs, wincing at the sight of you. “of all the people on the planet, you pick my rival? you pick him?” charles barks at you. you close your eyes, focusing on your breathing as your chest constricts. “i told you. i specifically told you not to mess around with him, and c’mon, i don’t ask you for much.” charles throws his hands out in frustration.

“charles, listen to me,” you keep your voice calm and steady. “we’re not messing around, we… we’re together.” you confirm, watching his jaw tick.

“together? with him? do you know how many girls probably think they’re in a relationship with him? half of the portuguese modelling industry is linked to him.” charles laughs incredulously, disgusted. your eyes narrow, watching lando crumble into a million pieces in your peripheral.

“don’t you dare ruin this for me! and how can you come into his house and speak to him that way? my god, charles, you don’t get it, do you? i can never be happy with anyone because of you! everyone, everyone, uses me to get to you and, god, i finally found someone who cares about me and couldn’t give less of a shit about who you are and you don’t approve? shall i stay single and lonely and in your shadow forever? should i go for some greasy hedge fund legacy who wants to fuck any leclerc he can get his hands on? huh? i’m sorry if you don’t approve, truly, i am, but you will not have a say in this.”

charles stays silent, as does lando, the only sound in the hallway being your heavy breathing, a symptom of your monologue. you feel the ghost of lando’s touch on your waist, soothing you from your outburst, and you lean into his touch, looking up at him. his eyes are reassuring, the only source of comfort.

charles watches intently, the silent communication between you both, and it knocks him for six. ultimately, he wants you to be happy, but it begs the question: can lando make you happy? the way you truly deserve? he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a muttered string of expletives.

“will you look after her?” he stares daggers at lando, watches the way the brit straightens up.

“i will.” lando nods firmly, eyes sincere.

“and you won’t hurt her? you won’t fuck her around?” charles looks like he’s desperately pleading, but his voice is commanding, no margin for error.

“i promise.”

“and you’ll make her happy?”

“i’d do anything for her.”

your head snaps towards lando, the tears you’d been holding back finally breaking the dam. charles watches closely, steps backwards towards the door. there isn’t space for him here right now.

“okay. i- okay.” you watch the way charles backs down, and he finally meets your eyes again. “ma chére, je suis désolé.” he tells you solemnly. you nod, lips in a thin, hard line. you can feel lando nudge you forward.

“come here, loser.” you groan, opening your arms for your brother. charles meets you half way, squeezes you tight. he gently kisses your forehead and turns to leave, not before shooting lando a look that says ‘i’m watching you.’

you turn back to your newfound boyfriend, tears still falling, but you pay them no mind.

“well done, baby.” he affirms, thumbing away your tears.

“i love you, lando.” you whisper, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. “thank you.” his eyes glaze over, total adoration swirling in the pools of green.

“so glad you said that because i absolutely love you too.” he laughs, hauling you in for a kiss. it’s a mess of tears and laughter and a weird sense of serenity.

“you might wanna call your publicist. pictures of last night leaked.” you mumble against his lips.

“at least we don’t have to sneak around anymore.” he shrugs. “i’ll call later. got things to do.” he picks you up effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder. you squeal, and he teasingly slaps your ass.

you catch sight of the apartment as he walks you through it, and you think about the first time you saw it, under the cover of darkness, covert and clandestine.

you much prefer it in the light of day.

you prefer lando in the light of day, too.

yourusername and landonorris just posted on instagram:

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and others.

yourusername: oops!

comments on this post have been disabled.

-

thank god that’s over lmfao - thank you for reading!!

taglist

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[thenerdyalien]

The real tragedy of bbc merlin

No matter how many years have passed since the finale, sometimes I still get choked up thinking about Merlin's devotion to Arthur and how cruel destiny really was to him. Because yes, Arthur's death was tragic, but for me Merlin's prophecised destiny was always the real tragedy of the show.

Like imagine being told that your whole purpose in life, your destiny, is another person, and not only that but someone you don't particularly like at first (a prat, you may say). And it's clear that he often feels trapped by this, even going as far as comparing his destiny with Arthur to a marriage (yes, that happens in not only one but two scenes, though one of them was deleted), an arrangement he had no say in but that has dictated his whole life. But the worst part is that he starts growing fond of him, he starts falling in love with the man he is inside, the real Arthur, not the facade he puts on for others. And suddenly it's not about destiny for Merlin anymore, it's about Arthur. He puts Arthur above everything. His kind, his beliefs, himself. He shuts himself off, he becomes a shell of the boy he used to be. Arthur's well-being is everything to him and nothing else matters. That's why he chooses Arthur over magic in the Disir, that's why he never told him the truth about his mother, that's why he was ready to die without ever letting Arthur know about his secret...because he would rather jump into the flames than to ever put Arthur in that position. And then imagine finding out that in the end, it was all a cruel joke, that the man you had come to love with all your being would be ripped from you anyway, no matter how dutifully you fulfilled your destiny, no matter how much you had given away for him. Because it turned out that your destiny was never Arthur, it was tragedy, it was martyrdom, it was giving away your body and soul for a future that will never come, a golden age that you'll never get to see.

That's why we're all still here 12 years later, because the bbc unintentionally wrote the most devastating tragedy of the century under the disguise of a silly family show.

[blvdheart]

one of his many journal entries about you

arthur morgan x fem!reader and male!reader <33

i won’t lie…i have 45 hours on the game and i’m not even past chapter 2 (っ- ‸ – ς) why progress when i can save myself the pending heartbreak and instead admire this pretty man and his journal sketches?

anyways…love all you arthur morgan kissers ♡

“my body doesn’t feel right as of late. my hands are too rough, my face is all wrinkled up, and my voice isn’t all that pleasant. if only i could sound as smooth as i write.

never been the most confident of men, but well, this body’s what i’m stuck with. used to go months on end without shaving until i realized my beard looked like bills. how embarrassing. miss grimshaw, the strong-headed woman she is, knocked some sense into me too. well…more like slapped me.

shaving makes me look more approachable, and that’s not really a good thing with my reputation. but, i did it anyway and spent a pretty penny on the barber up in valentine’s…had to pay a bit extra because of the drunken ruckus lenny and i caused there last time.

if my heart hadn’t been captured, maybe these worries of mine wouldn’t even exist.

oh, the ridiculous things love does to a man…”

꒰ fem!reader ꒱

“about as beautiful as the stars above; a woman so otherworldly that sometimes I have to look away. she shines too brightly for these tired eyes of mine. i suppose that’s for the best, ain’t it? a man like me, the walking embodiment of sin, isn’t worthy of such a loving lady.

but that doesn’t keep her away. she often asks me to recount some of my adventures, and i hesitantly do so, fearful she’ll think me a bad man. craziest thing is, she looks more worried than anything else whenever i do as told. telling me to be more careful with that honey-like voice of hers. could listen to it all day. it’s like a balm to the soul.

can’t keep myself away from her either. doesn’t matter what she’s doing, i always find myself wandering over to her. i don’t usually have trouble sleeping, i’m like some rock when it comes to it. but she’s occupied my mind too much lately, falling asleep is difficult. like right now. should be sleeping, but i’m not. just up wondering about the ifs and hows.

i’ve been saving up some money so i can go get her something real nice, maybe a pretty dangly necklace. could just steal one, but i want to prove myself to her. she deserves the best, not something that belonged to some other stranger.

god knows i’d do whatever i can to keep her safe and sound. i’d die for her. funny thing is, i considered myself to be a selfish man before breathing the same air as her.

i can say with absolute certainty that i would give up everything for a future with her.

if she’d have me.

…

now, this fool’s about to try and sketch her.

not sure if i can encapsulate her beauty onto a page, though.”

꒰ male!reader ꒱

“i fear I’m going mad. i never thought i’d feel this way about a man before. then again, pursuit of romance has never been a priority in my life. he’s one of a kind, something about him makes my palms feel all clammy.

he never leaves my head, every inch of this brain of mine is consumed with thoughts of him. his grin, the way his hat perches on his head, the stories he shares ‘round the campfire.

i’ve come across many men on all my journeys, but his handsomeness is unmatched. and he’s different. doesn’t nag me like dutch or get on my nerves like micah, but he isn’t just a brother like some of the other folks here.

i’ve been a bit too scared to drink these days. you know me, i spill my guts out and say stupid things like a damn fool when i get like that. wouldn’t know what to do if i were to sputter out how fine of a fella i think he is, or how grateful i am for him. is this only a special friendship? no, i don’t know how to describe this.

well, yes i do, actually.

love.

my fingers trembled while writing that.

some may call this spark a sin, but going down an altar with him would be a taste of heaven itself. that wish is too far-fetched though.

all i ask for is a sign. just one. maybe i’m misreading the glimmer in his eye, or the way the bastard slings his arm over my shoulder and sings after he downs some moonshine.

weird how life works, isn’t it?”

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (30/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The Leclerc family dinner is something else.

Warnings: this is just cute, mentions of injuries (due to Monopoly), alcohol consumption, Arthur Leclerc

Word Count: 3.8k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: happy birthday to the lovely anon from yesterday! this is not smutty, but I hope you'll still like it! feedback is appreciated!

When Charles brings the rickety Renault to a halt and pulls the handbrake, you can hardly believe your eyes.

The car is parked in front of a large, white house that is surrounded by green ivy on one corner. The black roof perfectly matches the black shutters leaning against the wall of the house, giving you a glimpse of the interior. Above the double doors of the entrance is a small balcony with a black metal fence and small flower boxes in which beautiful, colorful flowers are sure to bloom in summer.

It looks like a painting.

You stare open-mouthed through the windshield. "It's gorgeous."

Your friend smiles. "My mother had it renovated last year. The façade was crumbling a bit and the windows were no longer in good shape." He shrugs his shoulders. "But otherwise it's stayed the same. I grew up here."

You can hardly take your eyes off it as you get out of the car. "It's beautiful. It must have been great growing up here."

"It was." He rounds the hood and stands next to you. "Unfortunately, I was always on the road because of karting and the older I got, the less time I spent here. But this house holds so many memories." He exhales deeply. "This is my home."

You turn your head in his direction before reaching for his hand and squeezing it. "Thank you for taking me with you."

Charles smiles gently at you and pulls you a little closer so that you can feel his warm breath on your face. "Don't get too excited. You haven't met my brothers yet."

You tilt your head a little. "Are they that bad?"

"The worst," he whispers and leans forward a little. His gaze flickers briefly from your eyes to your lips. Your heart leaps a little. "But I'm the worst."

"Shouldn't I stay away from you then?" you ask him. He's so close to you that you have to tilt your head back to look at him. "Good girls should keep their distance from bad boys, shouldn't they?"

Charles releases his hand from yours and gently places it on your neck, leaving you no choice but to look at him. His other arm wraps around your waist and he pulls you all the way against him. Chest to chest, he looks down at you before licking his lips. You can feel the arousal pooling in your panties. "Are you a good girl, mon amour?"

As one of the front doors opens, he disengages from you with a smooth movement, as if nothing had ever happened and as if it wasn't running through your mind how you would have loved to get down on your knees for him right there. As he walks towards the house, you can see his back muscles dancing under his shirt. How you wish you could scratch him with your fingernails and -

"Maman. It's so good to see you," he greets his mother, who kisses him left and right on the cheek, snapping you out of your super non-platonic daydream. Which maybe isn't the worst thing, Charles is your friend after all.

"Yes yes, it's nice to see you too," she replies, before pushing past him and coming towards you. "Chérie, I'm so glad you're here!" The woman hugs you tightly before also kissing you left and right.

"It's nice to see you again too, Pascale," you smile. "Thank you so much for inviting me. The house is gorgeous."

"Thank you, chérie," she replies and reaches for your hands. "Come on, come on. Let me show you the house." Before you can say anything back, she pulls you towards the house, past Charles and through the door. "Charles! Your brothers will be here soon. You can set the table," she calls to him over her shoulder.

"Of course, Maman," he replies and when you look back at him, he rolls his eyes in mock annoyance.

"And please take the good china! We want to make a good impression."

"Of course, Maman." Charles, who has followed you into the house, closes the front door behind him.

The inside of the house looks like it's from another world. Large, white tiles adorn the floor, the furniture is kept simple, but still looks luxurious and so expensive that you'd be worried about scratching the surfaces with your car keys if you put them down. The lower floor is open plan, with a large kitchen with a kitchen island, a glass dining table and the living room. There's a soft-looking sofa in front of the fireplace, where you can definitely warm up on cold days. There are countless pictures on the walls - a mixture of art and personal photos.

"Would you like something to drink, chérie?" asks Pascale as you stop in the kitchen and she lets go of your hand. She opens the fridge and starts rummaging around in it. "We have water, orange juice, spritz, wine and cola."

"I don't need anything, thank you," you reply with a smile. You're a little overwhelmed that she's being so nice to you. You're not used to parents being so sweet and kind. Yours certainly weren't when you lived with them.

"All right, then. If you need anything, just take it. Make yourself at home." She squeezes your shoulder briefly before scurrying past you. "Charles! The table!"

"I'm on it," his voice comes from another corner of the room before he steps back into your field of vision. He is holding expensive-looking tableware in his hands, which he carefully spreads out on various coasters on the glass table. "Could you please take the cutlery from the top drawer there? There must be six of us. Enzo wanted to bring his wife Charlotte."

You take the cutlery from the drawer and count it off before joining him at the table and distributing the items. "I'm a bit nervous," you confess quietly. As you place a fork next to one of the plates, Charles grabs your hand.

"We can leave if that's too much for you," he suggests. " I'm sorry. My brothers aren't that bad. They're nice and funny and I think you'll get along fine." He strokes the inside of his wrist lovingly with his thumb. "You really don't need to worry. But if you want to leave, I can understand that."

You shake your head slightly. "It's all good. Your mother cooked dinner especially for me and it would be rude to leave now." You chew the inside of your cheek. "I just want to make a good impression."

Charles takes the rest of the cutlery from your hand before interlacing his fingers with yours. "You really don't have to worry about that, mon amour. She already loves you."

You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "And how do you know that? Did she tell you that?"

"She didn't need to," he replies with a smile. "When I introduced her to Annika back then, she reacted differently. No kisses, no dinner to get to know each other better. And she definitely didn't ask her to feel at home here," he explains, placing his free hand on your cheek. "She has good intuition and the fact that she took you to her heart within minutes just shows me that I made a good catch with you."

"Excuse me! There are children here!" a male voice shouts across the room. You would have liked to take three steps back to put some distance between you and Charles, but he keeps you in place.

"I don't see any children," replies the man in front of you, glancing over your head towards the kitchen. When you turn around, a young man is standing there, grinning and leaning against the kitchen island. "All I see is an annoying little brother who doesn't know when to hold back."

Playfully hurt, the stranger puts his hand on his chest. "Ouch. I'm not the one who can't seem to just pull through ." Before you can say anything back, he takes the few steps towards you and stops in front of Charles. The two stare at each other for a moment before a wide smile spreads across the shorter man's face. "Good to see you, big brother."

Charles releases his hand from yours so that he can embrace his baby brother. "You too." With a smile, he hugs him before gently pushing him away. He turns to you. "This is my little brother Arthur."

"It's nice to meet you," he replies and - in true Pascale style - gives you a little kiss on each cheek before winking at you. "Maman has already told me about you, but she didn't tell me how beautiful you are."

"'Keep your hands off, Arthur,' your roommate warns his brother, but he just waves it off.

"Don't worry, Charles. I'm not here to take your girlfriend away." You raise your hand and open your mouth to correct him, but he turns on his heel and walks back towards the fridge. "I'm here because I was promised good food. And maybe a game of Monopoly?" He waggles his eyebrows in anticipation.

Charles shakes his head vigorously. "Absolutely not. Last time Enzo nearly lost a finger because you thought he was cheating the bank."

Arthur rolls his eyes. "The whole thing would be unfunny without a bit of violence." His gaze shifts from his big brother to you. "What about you? Do you like Monopoly?"

"Monopoly? Maybe we should look for the first aid kit first," laughs the young woman who has just joined you. With her long blonde hair and wide, pearly-white smile, she looks so beautiful that it almost takes your breath away. Without giving the guys in the room a glance, she walks straight up to you and hugs you tightly. "Hi, I'm Charlotte. Enzo's wife." She gives you a quick hug before pulling away from you. "I like your top."

You introduce yourself to her as well before thanking her for the compliment. "Is Monopoly really that crazy in this family?" you ask quietly, watching Charles and Arthur tease each other in the kitchen.

"When it comes to winning, the men behave like animals," she explains, putting her slender arm around your shoulder. "That's why it's all the better that you're here now. Maybe they're acting a bit more grown-up this time then."

"Everyone here is an adult," another person defends themselves. The black-haired man tries to get Arthur out of Charles' headlock. "My little brothers might be a bit wild, but we're all old enough to behave reasonably." As he separates the two bickering men, he stands between them with his arms outstretched.

Arthur points his finger at the eldest of the three brothers. "You once knocked over the whole board because you had no more money to pay Charles."

Charles briefly runs his fingers through his tousled hair to get it into style. "And you once kicked us out of your apartment because you didn't have a hotel to take out a mortgage."

Before you know it, Enzo grabs his little brothers and tucks them under his arms, but Charles is quicker. With an elegant twist, he wriggles out of his brother's tight grip and twists his arm a little so that he can't get hold of him again, while Arthur tries with all his might to free himself.

"I told you," Charlotte whispers to you. "Like animals."

"Are you out of your minds?" Pascale's voice drowns out the boys, who abruptly move away from each other and blink at their mother. Arthur's face is red, while Enzo tugs his shirt right. Charles throws you a grin and a wink. "I'm cooking for everyone here and you're acting like children! Come on now! You know what you have to do!" she nags her sons, who quietly apologize to her and then scurry back and forth to put the rest of the things on the table.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" you ask the young woman next to you, but before she can answer you, Pascale is standing in front of you.

"Please take a seat. You're our special guest today and if I even see you lift a finger…" She gives you a stern, loving look before pulling one of the chairs from the table. With a nod, she tells you to sit down. Her look leaves no room for discussion.

"Would you like a glass of wine? I've brought a lovely sweet Riesling," Charlotte asks as she takes two wine glasses from one of the cupboards in the kitchen.

"Yes, please."

As she sets your glass down in front of you, the men also sit down at the table while Pascale places various bowls in front of you. When Charles tries to sit on the chair opposite you, his mother promptly stops him.

"The chair is broken, chéri. I'm afraid you'll have to use that stool there," she says, pointing to the small stool in the corner of the room.

Without hesitation, Charles swaps the pieces of furniture, but when he sits down, he grimaces. "My goodness, that's uncomfortable. It's sure to give me a backache."

"Maybe your lovely girlfriend can give you a back massage later," Arthur suggests, wiggling his eyebrows. Before he can react, your friend has reached into one of the bowls in front of you and thrown a piece of bread at his little brother. "Ouch, what the hell? I didn't say anything! It only becomes ambiguous when you make it ambiguous."

"Boys, pull yourselves together, otherwise it'll be the last time I invite you all here for dinner," Pascale scolds her sons, but you can tell she's not serious. She sits down at the table in front of them. "Now eat before the food gets cold."

-

"How did you two meet?" asks Enzo, popping a spoonful of vanilla ice cream into his mouth.

The pasta that Pascale cooked especially for you tasted absolutely fantastic. While you ate together, you talked about all sorts of things. About Enzo's work, Charlotte's recent seminar, new recipes that Pascale really wants to try out and your photography. At the beginning you were worried that you wouldn't be able to join in as you didn't know anyone from this family, but there was never a moment when you felt left out. It feels nice to be part of a family again - even if it's not your own.

Charles, who stretches his back briefly, looks at you across the table. "That's a funny story. Would you like to tell it?"

As all eyes turn to you, you have to swallow. You weren't expecting the attention. But Charles looks at you so gently and his smile is so warm. He makes you feel like you're not in the wrong place.

"He surprised me when I came out of the shower half-naked," you grin back. All you hear from the corner where Arthur is sitting is a whistle.

"Hey, that's not quite true," your roommate defends himself. "You were living in my second apartment without me knowing! Joris rented you the apartment and didn't tell me. And when I turned up there, you came out of the shower. It's not my fault." He raises his hands. "And you wanted to beat me up with a magazine!"

You reach for your wine glass and take a sip. "You were a stranger who suddenly appeared in my apartment. How else could I have reacted? You were so close to calling the police."

"You were standing half-naked in my apartment. It could have been that you were a crazy fan and somehow found out the address."

Charlotte looks up from her bowl of ice cream at you. "Didn't you know who he was?" As you shake your head, she claps her hands several times in delight. "Oh how cute! Just like in the fanfictions you can read on the internet! That's awesome!"

Her husband gives her a puzzled look. "You read fanfictions about my brother?"

Charlotte rolls her eyes. "Are you crazy? Of course not! But every now and then I just hear about it."

"And you've just decided to share the apartment," says Arthur as he scrapes two more scoops of ice cream out of the ice cream container.

"Yep. Just like that," Charles explains, and you smile gratefully at him. You're glad you don't have to explain that you're unemployed. Especially since everyone at this table is pursuing promising careers. Your friend smiles back affectionately before arching his back. "And it would also be the best decision I've ever made if I didn't have to sit on this stupid stool all evening. My spine feels like pebbles."

"Don't be like that," his mother grumbles at him. "You're still young. Your back pain can't be that bad."

"Arthur is younger than me. Shouldn't he be sitting in this chair then?" Charles tries to get out of it, but he falls silent when Pascale gives him a dirty look.

"But I don't have a girlfriend who can rub my back later," grins the youngest Leclerc. "I'm sure she won't mind."

"Arthur!" Pascale reprimands him. Her gaze shifts to you. "I'm so sorry. I thought I'd brought her up better." She puts her head in her hands.

"Oh, Maman." Charles gets up from his uncomfortable stool and you can tell by the way he looks that his back is actually hurting. He stands behind his mother and puts his hands on her shoulders. "We know you did your best. And we actually turned out well." He can barely suppress his grin. "Except for Arthur."

"Hey!" Arthur jumps up from his chair so quickly that you fear he's going to fall over backwards, but Charlotte just manages to catch it. Arthur chases his big brother around the room while Enzo stacks up the ice cream bowls to take them to the kitchen.

"Wait, I'll help you," you offer, reaching for the cutlery that has been left behind, but Pascale's hand on yours stops you in your tracks.

"If you lift a finger, the same thing will happen to it as with Enzo's fingers at Monopoly," she threatens lovingly and gets up to clear away the rest of the things herself.

You look at Charlotte uncertainly and she waves you off. "Don't worry about it. She doesn't mean any harm. She just wants you to feel comfortable here and make sure you have everything you need. You'll get used to it over time."

"Thank you," you reply with a smile. "I think if you weren't so nice to me, I'd be really scared of you."

The blonde has to laugh. "Unfortunately, I hear that a lot. But I know what it's like to be new to this family. It can be quite nerve-wracking and overwhelming. But they're all lovely people. You don't need to worry about that." She puts her hand on yours briefly before rising and joining her husband in the kitchen.

A short time later, you feel two large hands on your shoulders. "Are you all right?" Charles asks as you lean your head back to look at him. "My family didn't scare you off, did they? Or are you sick of it and don't want anything to do with me anymore?"

"A terrible family," you reply and feel his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin. You feel warm.

"I can understand," he nods and leans down towards you so that the tips of your noses touch. "So that's the last time we'll see everyone. I definitely prefer your company to that of the others."

You have to stifle a giggle. "You're only saying that because you're hoping to get a back massage from me as soon as we get home." Your mouth goes dry at the thought of running your hands over his muscular back and feeling the soft skin under your fingertips.

"You're right about that," he admits. "Shall we go? I've had to share you with my family long enough."

"You want to leave already?" asks Pascale, who has rejoined you at the table. You didn't even realize she was back until she started talking.

"Yes, maman. My back really hurts and we have a lot to do tomorrow," he apologizes. It's news to you that you have plans. But maybe it's just an excuse so that you can be alone again more quickly. And you definitely have no objections to that.

Friends, sure.

"All right." She puts her hands on her hips. "But I'll expect you both back here at Christmas. I'll prepare your old room so you can spend the night here." Her smile is warm and heartfelt. As you get up from your chair to say goodbye to her, she wraps you tightly in her arms. "It's so nice that you're part of our family now. I'm already looking forward to having you back here at Christmas. It's only a few more days until then."

"Thank you for your invitation." You return her hug. "I haven't felt like part of a family for a long time."

Apparently she sees something in your gaze, something sad, because she has to swallow before she starts speaking again. "We've been through a lot as a family - and I think you have too. You're always welcome here. No matter what happens. Even if you need someone to be there for you in the middle of the night. The doors of this house are always open to you." She blinks away a few tears and you briefly consider hugging her again.

Which you finally do. "Your family is wonderful. You've raised three great sons. If your husband was anywhere near as kind-hearted as they turned out to be, then he must have been the most lovable person in the world," you whisper to her.

"He would have loved you. I'm sure of it." As she breaks away from you, she wipes her eyes once. "Thank you for looking after my son. There's no denying how good you are for him."

As if on cue, Charles stands next to you and puts his arm around your waist to pull you close. You feel his body heat, the pressure of his fingers on your skin.

After this morning, you had been unsure whether you would ever be so close again despite the misstep, or whether you would keep your distance because the situation would be awkward for people who are actually just friends. But Charles' smile is genuine, his gaze gentle and his lips soft as he presses them lovingly to your forehead.

"She's the absolute best thing that could have happened to me."

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Sirius Black was the best adult in Harry's life and I'm forever salty that we didn't get to see more of him

So, I love Sirius Black. He's a complex and interesting character that I love dearly. He's handsome, smart, brave, not as reckless as some fanon make him out to be, and above all else, he tried his best to be a good godfather to Harry.

I truly believe Sirius could've been an amazing father figure (more than he already was) to Harry if given the proper chance. And he's a much better parent to Harry than Arthur and Molly Weasley.

Here are some quotes along with my ramblings to prove it.

So, what I'm going to cover here are some quotes from Sirius and Harry that show their dynamic and how much Sirius cared and tried to be there for Harry. Also, I think Molyl and Hermione are wrong about Sirius seeing Harry as a James replacement.

“He came back to the country just because my scar twinged. He’ll probably come bursting right into the castle if I tell him someone’s entered me in the Triwizard Tournament —”

(GoF, page 290)

Harry wrote to Sirius at the beginning of GoF about his dream with Voldemort and his scar's reaction to it. Sirius left everything immediately to return to Britain — a place where he is hunted down and is a wanted man. All because he wants to be close to Harry, so he can spring up to protect him if the need arises.

Harry is correct in his assessment here.

“Poor old Snuffles,” said Ron, breathing deeply. “He must really like you, Harry. . . . Imagine having to live off rats.”

(GoF, page 534)

Ron is absolutely right. Sirius loves Harry more than pretty much anything. He would and does go incredibly far for Harry. I don't think Molly and Hermione are right about how Sirius sees Harry as James. He just doesn't.

He doesn't treat Harry as an equal to him, but as someone he needs to protect. Someone he is responsible to protect.

He stays around Hogwarts, eating rats in GoF so he can better protect Harry. He wouldn't have done the same with James because he treated James as an equal, not as someone he needed to protect.

“It’s not my fault you haven’t been told what the Order’s doing,” said Sirius calmly. “That’s your parents’ decision. Harry, on the other hand —” “It’s not down to you to decide what’s good for Harry!” said Mrs. Weasley sharply. Her normally kindly face looked dangerous. “You haven’t forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?” “Which bit?” Sirius asked politely, but with an air as though readying himself for a fight. “The bit about not telling Harry more than he needs to know,” said Mrs. Weasley, placing a heavy emphasis on the last three words. Ron, Hermione, Fred, and George’s heads turned from Sirius to Mrs. Weasley as though following a tennis rally. Ginny was kneeling amid a pile of abandoned butterbeer corks, watching the conversation with her mouth slightly open. Lupin’s eyes were fixed on Sirius. “I don’t intend to tell him more than he needs to know, Molly,” said Sirius. “But as he was the one who saw Voldemort come back” (again, there was a collective shudder around the table at the name), “he has more right than most to —” “He’s not a member of the Order of the Phoenix!” said Mrs. Weasley. “He’s only fifteen and —” “— and he’s dealt with as much as most in the Order,” said Sirius, “and more than some —” “No one’s denying what he’s done!” said Mrs. Weasley, her voice rising, her fists trembling on the arms of her chair. “But he’s still —” “He’s not a child!” said Sirius impatiently. “He’s not an adult either!” said Mrs. Weasley, the color rising in her cheeks. “He’s not James, Sirius!” “I’m perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly,” said Sirius coldly. “I’m not sure you are!” said Mrs. Weasley. “Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it’s as though you think you’ve got your best friend back!” “What’s wrong with that?” said Harry. “What’s wrong, Harry, is that you are not your father, however much you might look like him!” said Mrs. Weasley, her eyes still boring into Sirius. “You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!” “Meaning I’m an irresponsible godfather?” demanded Sirius, his voice rising. “Meaning you’ve been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and —” “We’ll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!” said Sirius loudly.

(OotP, page 88-89)

This above quote is a long one, but I love it. I mean, this shows a big contrast between Sirius' approach to parenting and Molly's. Sirius, while not seeing Harry as his equal, does see Harry as a capable wizard who deserves to know the full picture. Sirius knows Harry would be in more danger when ignorant and wants him as safe as possible. He thinks Harry deserves to know things that pertain to him, and I have to agree with him here. Keeping Harry in the dark is what eventually cost Sirius his life.

Molly, on the other hand, is intent on keeping Harry, Hermione, and her kids ignorant. She has the same intention as Sirius: to keep them safe. But she tries to keep them safe emotionally, even when this ignorance can and does place them in physical harm's way.

And Sirius is right. Harry is capable. And a 15-year-old shouldn't be treated the same as an 11-year-old child. And let's be real, Harry was never a regular child with how he grew up, and I think Sirius sees his maturity and treats him accordingly. Sirius actually gave Harry advice to not approach danger in GOF and Harry listened to him because Sirius treated him with respect, which works best with Harry who never really had parental figures.

“I don’t know,” said Sirius slowly, “I just don’t know . . . Karkaroff doesn’t strike me as the type who’d go back to Voldemort unless he knew Voldemort was powerful enough to protect him. But whoever put your name in that goblet did it for a reason, and I can’t help thinking the tournament would be a very good way to attack you and make it look like an accident.”

(GoF, page 334)

This is an expert from the Fireplace conversation Haryr had with Sirius before the first task. Sirius shares his theories with Harry because he needs him to know who to watch out for. Because everything he does is to keep Harry safe. And this is the same approach Sirius wishes he could take with Harry in OOTP. Because he knows it works. Keeping Harry informed means that if he does put himself in danger, at least he would inform Sirius about it; Which would allow Sirius to protect him.

I'm not copying all of them, but Sirius' letters to Harry throughout GOF are so caring and sweet. Harry deserved to have more of his godfather in his life:

Nice try, Harry. I'm back in the country and well hidden. I want you to keep me posted on everything that's going on at Hogwarts. Don't use Hedwig, keep changing owls, and don't worry about me, just watch out for yourself. Don't forget what I said about your scar. Sirius

(Gof, page 240)

This treatment encourages Harry to actually share everything with him and ask him for advice. Something he doesn't do with Dumbledore ever. (Harry actually doesn't like or trust Dumbledore all that much until book 6, it's usually Hermione who trusts Dumbledore fully)

“Sirius — how’re you doing?” ... “Never mind me, how are you?” said Sirius seriously.

(GoF, page 331)

Sirius again, shows his responsibility towards Harry's well-being over his own (both here and in the above letter).

Sirius is the only adult who actually talks to Harry about the Dursleys with sympathy:

“But if they do expel me,” said Harry, quietly, “can I come back here and live with you?” Sirius smiled sadly. “We’ll see.” “I’d feel a lot better about the hearing if I knew I didn’t have to go back to the Dursleys,” Harry pressed him. “They must be bad if you prefer this place,” said Sirius gloomily.

(OotP, page 116)

We know Sirius would love nothing more than for Harry to stay with him. He's lonely and bored at Grimmauld and would love to have Harry there. But at the same time, he doesn't want Harry expelled from Hogwarts and is trying not to be hopeful for it.

Sirius understands the Dursleys are awful, he just know the full scope, but it's more of a reaction than we get from most adults in this series. To me, it looks like Sirius is annoyed by how limited he is in helping Harry. He can't really do much about the Dursleys or their status as Harry's guardians.

“So you want me to say I’m not going to take part in the defense group?” he muttered finally. “Me? Certainly not!” said Sirius, looking surprised. “I think it’s an excellent idea!” “You do?” said Harry, his heart lifting. “Of course I do!” said Sirius. “D’you think your father and I would’ve lain down and taken orders from an old hag like Umbridge?” “But — last term all you did was tell me to be careful and not take risks —” “Last year all the evidence was that someone inside Hogwarts was trying to kill you, Harry!” said Sirius impatiently. “This year we know that there’s someone outside Hogwarts who’d like to kill us all, so I think learning to defend yourselves properly is a very good idea!” “And if we do get expelled?” Hermione asked, a quizzical look on her face. “Hermione, this whole thing was your idea!” said Harry, staring at her. “I know it was. . . . I just wondered what Sirius thought,” she said, shrugging. “Well, better expelled and able to defend yourselves than sitting safely in school without a clue,” said Sirius.

(OotP, page 371)

I love this scene as well. Sirius cares for Harry's safety first and foremost. Harry being safe is his top priority at every given point. And he's reasonable and logical and treats Harry like someone to protect, not like a friend.

Like, Harry when he has a problem and needs advice throughout books 4 and 5, he calls Sirius. He's Harry's go-to parental figure for advice, and Sirius takes his rule seriously. He gives the advice he honestly thinks is best and ensures Harry's safety and continued survival to the best of his ability.

“It matters because we don’t want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions of things that are happening hundreds of miles away!” said Sirius angrily. “Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?” Fred and George looked as though they could not care less what the Ministry made of anything. Ron was still white-faced and silent. Ginny said, “Somebody else could have told us. . . . We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry. . . .”

(OotP, pages 476-477)

Again, Harry's safety is Sirius' first priority above everyone else. Harry's happiness and privacy also take precedence over most other things. He doesn't want Harry under even more scrutiny from the ministry and the Wizarding World and protecting him from that is just as important to him.

To me, it feels like people who say he treats Harry like a James replacement didn't read the books....

“It must have been the aftermath of the vision, that’s all,” said Sirius. “You were still thinking of the dream or whatever it was and —” “It wasn’t that,” said Harry, shaking his head. “It was like something rose up inside me, like there’s a snake inside me —” “You need to sleep,” said Sirius firmly. “You’re going to have breakfast and then go upstairs to bed, and then you can go and see Arthur after lunch with the others. You’re in shock, Harry; you’re blaming yourself for something you only witnessed, and it’s lucky you did witness it or Arthur might have died. Just stop worrying. . . .” He clapped Harry on the shoulder and left the pantry, leaving Harry standing alone in the dark.

(OotP, pages 480-481)

And I love this too. How he tries to comfort Harry and make everything easier for him. When the rest of the Order were gossiping about how dangerous his connection to Voldemort is, Sirius is honestly trying to get Harry to worry about it less.

He might be lying here, but he is right about sending Harry to sleep after a sleepless night like they had. And he is right about Harry being in shock and needing the rest. I just, really like how much Sirius cares. Harry just doesn't have other adults in his life who care for him like Sirius does.

But some part of him realized, even as he fought to break free from Lupin, that Sirius had never kept him waiting before. . . . Sirius had risked everything, always, to see Harry, to help him. . . . If Sirius was not reappearing out of that archway when Harry was yelling for him as though his life depended on it, the only possible explanation was that he could not come back. . . . That he really was . . .

(OotP, page 808)

This. Scene. Just kills me.

Like, Harry understands how much Sirius cares about him, and how Sirius always puts him first. He knows the only way Sirius won't drop everything to come and when Harry calls for him is if he can't.

Because Sirius escaped Azkaban when he realized Harry might be in danger from Peter, not for his own safety, but for Harry’s. Sirius dropped everything and moved to live in a cave and eat rats when Harry's scar hurt. He stuck around Hogwarts and Hogsmead during the Triwizard Tournament, when it was crawling with ministry officials because Harry might need him. He was willing to do so much for Harry. And Harry knew this.

I think, given time, they could've had an amazing dynamic, and I wish we had more of Sirius and his care for Harry. That we saw more of his approach to parenting Harry.

[cybermindz]

ˋ°•*⁀➷ WHEN DAWN COMES AGAIN ˊ˗

charles leclerc x fem!reader

contains ─┈ · · · 18+, explicit: bestfriends w benefits!, grinding, charles being desperate, power-sub!reader, wc: 600+

a/n ─┈ · · · if u recall this being for arthur…shhh no u didn’t

꒰ 𖥻masterlist ꒱

it wasn't often where your best-friend CHARLES LECLERC could be home in monaco for an extended amount of time because of his career. so when he was staying in his childhood home for the weekend—inviting you over for a family dinner only seemed natural, especially since you were practically part of the Leclercs after being friends with him for several years. it just leads to him not wanting you to go back home, but instead to stay the night with him. his excuses were that he 'hasn't seen you in so long.’ and he'll just ‘take you back home tomorrow.’

so it was like second nature for you to snuggle up against him in the bed of his childhood room. his family never thinking anything of it because of how many times you've had sleepovers together in the past.

if only they knew.

see it wasn’t all that simple. this wasn’t just a standard companionship where closeness, love, and trust only play a part. it was more than that. the physical aspect of it was out of the ordinary for a pair of best-friends and you don’t really have a recollection of when it first started.

you feel it 30 minutes into cuddling, left in the predicament of his hard on pressing against your lower back yet once again. yes…..again, this has happened numerous amount of times.

"Charles...” you quietly whine when he tries to get impossibly closer to your now heated body. a tired limb of your hand reaches behind to grab ahold of his own that’s gripping your waist.

“mmm ‘m sorry chèrie,” (sweetheart,) slurring over his words, he starts to rub himself against your ass in hopes to relieve the ache, all the while littering your neck with soft kisses, “missed you so bad. need you.”

you grumble some profanities before rolling over onto him, successfully straddling his lower half with your hands on his chest. the dimly-lit room reveals his heart-throbbing smile, dimples digging into his cheeks, but you give him a scowl in return.

"y'know we can't keep doing this," you whisper angrily, "bound to get caught.”

"not unless we stay quiet mon amour."

"don't-" you roll your hips, making him groan at the friction—pj’s being the only thing separating you two, "don't call me that.”

"fuck, take your shirt off.”

as much as you were annoyed, it doesn't mean that you didn't want this just as much as he did so you comply with the man without any second thoughts. his hands were instantly on you, groping and caressing at the expanse skin of your chest—calloused fingers pinching at your nipples, making them pebble up in the cold air of his room while you continue to rock your hips onto his.

oh how he yearned for this, for you. your skin against his—your touch. he longed to have you like this again, to have you writhing above him, to hear the little whines and gasps you let out because he’s touching you and no one else can. you won’t let them, you don’t carry this amount of trust for anyone but him. only comfortable at sharing your vulnerabilities and confiding all your problems to your other half.

it was always only him.

"gonna come in my pants if you keep that up," he says breathlessly, "please baby, do something."

with some shuffling around, you rid of your bottoms and panties as quietly as you can whilst he pushes his own sweatpants and briefs down, enough to free his aching cock. you climbed back on top of him, hovering just above his leaking tip, not giving him what he wanted just yet. as you give him a teasing smile his eyes stared back at you filled with desire—yet sleepy and liddled. it was cute.

he becomes impatient from the waiting game almost instantly. dying for some type of buzzing sensation to get him off. so he takes his fingers and swipe onto your slit, making you shudder.

"already so wet," this time he guides your hips with his strong hands, pulling you flush against him—rubbing your slick all over his shaft to finally have that delicious skin to skin contact he was craving all day, "si jolie comme ca.” (so pretty like this.)

"this is-" you whimper out when your clit bumps the head of his cock delightfully, legs already starting to tremble, “this is the last time we do this."

"mhm whatever you say baby.”

© 𝐂𝐘𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐙. please refrain from plagiarizing any of my works. reposting on other media platforms is prohibited.

— reblogs, comments, & feedback are appreciated!

[norris55s]

the summer i turned pretty - charles leclerc & arthur leclerc

a reader x charles leclerc/arthur leclerc love triangle

warnings: intoxicated (but consensual) kissing

a/n: trying out a written piece/smau/texts weird hybrid but it was all i could come up with to get this idea across! i hope you all like it <3 (there will be a part 2)

also this was requested!! i'm so sorry anon i lost the ask but i hope u see it and like it anyways

Day 1

France is a place that isn’t easy to forget, but having lived there your whole life made it seem ordinary. The country that saw me grow up, and that I was glad to call home, failed to impress me every day because I was used to it. The beautiful architecture, history, and tourist attractions weren’t as beautiful to me anymore; it was my day-to-day life.

That wasn’t true for the beach house in Nice. It wasn’t mine, or my family’s, but that place never failed to impress me, even if it was my day-to-day life every summer. The Leclerc summer home was my favorite place on Earth. From its blue and white facade, the soft beige interiors, the pool and beach view, the big dining room, and the incredible company, there’s no place I’d rather be in right now.

“Y/N L/N, you have arrived!” Charles Leclerc, the ultimate reason for this place’s beauty, yelled out to me.

“Charles Leclerc, I have arrived!” I replied blushing, and opening my arms into an embrace. As every time I hugged him, my body relaxed and tensed somehow at the same time, safe and nervous, loved and not loved back. But aren’t all childhood crushes like that?

“I��ve also arrived, pote. If you even care,” my wonderfully annoying older brother, Alexandre, interjected. Charles let me go to greet my brother, and I turned to find the youngest Leclerc, Arthur, on his way to hug me hello.

“Hi, chérie,” he said with a smile on his face, ruffling my hair affectionately.

“Hi, Arthur. Up to no good once again?”

“I’m always up to all good!”

Pascale Leclerc, the boys’ mother, greeted me with cheeks kisses and pinches. Everyone then swarmed my mom, Alice. Sometimes I think my friends love her more than they love me, but that was deserved.

As every year before, everyone finally felt at home. And as every year before, the inaugural pool party started.

“Y/N L/N, will you do me the honor of joining me at the pool?” Charles exaggeratedly held out his hand, as if we were Royals in a ball. Antics that I was happy to oblige with. Too happy for my dignity to recover. 

As we made our way inside, and swam a couple laps playing around on who is faster, we wound up floating peacefully on a corner with the sun beginning to set. 

“I missed you,” Charles said out of nowhere, making my heart do a somersault. 

“I miss you too,” I managed to reply, feeling the blush on my cheeks. 

“I want to hear from you more often. I know I’m busy with racing, but I always can make time for you Y/N.”

The thing about unrequited love is any show of affection feels like a marriage proposal. But of course I could not deny his request. He was, above all else, one of my best friends and one that I needed to be there for. 

Hervé Leclerc passed away the year before, a couple months after the summer vacation. We didn’t know it would be the last time we spent with him, and I was worried about what this year’s vacation would be like with the boys’ father missing. 

“I’m always here for you,” I vowed and he gave me a quick, chaste kiss on my forehead. To make sure I wouldn’t forget my promise. 

As I looked at Charles’ glistening face against the darkening sun, I realized we would be okay. 

y/ninstagram added to her stories

charles_leclerc added to his stories

Day 2

“Chérie,” was the first voice I heard as I woke up, with Arthur knocking on my door for show and letting himself in.

“Too early,” I whined back and hid under the covers, to have them ripped from me by the guy in my room.

“It’s time for the sunrise beach walk,” he replied and I knew he was right, so I let myself be dragged outside the house. I couldn’t say no, since the sunrise walk at least once during the vacation is also a tradition between Arthur and I.

It was also worth it; we silently agreed for that to be time to catch up, be honest, and be vulnerable ever since we began taking the walks. This one would be particularly hard too.

“I really, really miss my dad,” he said, putting his arm around my shoulders to walk side by side.

I didn’t know how to handle Hervé’s death with the boys. 

Enzo was older than me, even beyond his years, and there was nothing I could say that would be wiser, or better than what he had to say.

Arthur was quiet and reasonable, way more accepting of inevitables than me, more useful to himself than me.

Charles was passionate but closed, a master at compartmentalization, never letting me in even if I’d like to.

But Arthur, ever my closest friend, still needed my support.

“I know you do,” I replied softly and squeezed his hand. “It’s only normal, and I’m sorry you’ve been dealt these cards.”

Grief is a strange thing, but on the beach I hoped I let Arthur know that I would always be by his side, and that the sun will always rise again for him. With his steady breathing while leaning on me as we sat on the sand, I knew he understood.

arthur_leclerc added to his stories

y/ninstagram added to her stories

Day 3

y/ninstagram added to her stories

ameliedeveraux20 added to her stories

This was the third year Arthur and I were invited to parties that Alexandre and Charles went to. The promotion from little siblings to cool siblings opened up a new world in Nice. Especially one where I could ignore my schoolgirl crush on Charles through alcohol.

So I happily got ready, into a pink summer dress and into the car that would drive us all to an even bigger house filled with a bunch of privileged European kids ready to drink the night away.

The first drink came from Antoine, who sadly had a beautiful girl around his arms that indicated he wouldn’t be a good distraction. The second one came from Amelie, my Nice girlfriend, who was happy as ever to see me and catch up with me before she also found an arm candy and promptly left. The third one was on me, as I was forced to stare at Charles making out with a girl I learned was named Charlotte.

After that, I stopped counting and kept drinking, joining the dance floor to enjoy the numb feeling in my face, the new found careless attitude, and the music blasting in my ears.

Before I could process it, Arthur was in front of me, the blush on his face indicating he was also intoxicated. What started as a normal jumping around like one does at a party, progressed to a point where his hands were on my waist and my hands were on his neck.

I couldn’t even recognize the song anymore, too entranced on the way his eyes were on mine. There were no words, as was usual between him and I. We just knew.

I wouldn’t take the first step, but he would. Arthur’s lips met mine in a strong, messy kiss. I didn’t pull away. I did want it. And it wasn’t scary.

When we stopped to take a breath, I realized I wanted to kiss him again. As I was leaning in, taking the initiative myself now, another force pulled me away.

I walked by inertia, trying not to fall down in following who was leading me away from the crowd. When I looked up, I recognized it to be Charles.

I couldn’t breathe from the adrenaline of the kiss I just shared, but also from the touch of Charles’ hand on mine, even if it was to take me out of the party.

My reaction was all too slow, finally starting to protest.

“What are you doing? Let me go,” I defensively said, snatching my hand away from his. The butterflies didn’t leave anyways.

“You’re drunk, let’s go home,” Charles coldly replied and held my hand again on his way to the car.

“Why would I want to go home? I’m having fun,” I continued to protest and he continued to pay me no mind.

As he put me inside the vehicle, despite my clumsy attempts to fight it, and slammed the door, I continued to think about what this could possibly be about. Where was Charlotte? Where was Arthur? What was happening?

My head spun and he got in the driver’s seat, turning the ignition on.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“You’re drunk. You don’t kiss people when you’re drunk.”

“That makes no sense.”

“You don’t kiss people you haven’t kissed sober.”

“Its Arthur!”

“Exactly!”

The back and forth continued all the way to the house, my thoughts sobering up with every passing moment.

“If you don’t want me to be with your brother because you don’t think I’m good enough, that’s really not your choice,” I told him decisively, crossing my arms and pouting like a child throwing a tantrum.

That was the only explanation for what Charles just did. He didn’t think a Leclerc should be with someone like me, and was doing everything he could to prevent it.

When he started laughing, I wasn’t so convinced anymore.

“What’s so funny?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about. I just made the biggest scene out of jealousy, and you’re saying I don’t think you’re good enough.”

Time froze and my mouth went dry. The confession made its way through my entire bloodstream, replacing the alcohol effects with pure shock. My head was spinning for entirely different reasons, and my brain couldn’t bring the words out. What would I even say?

I opened my mouth but nothing came out, and Charles put his face on his hands in frustration, before leaving the car. I still could only think what is happening?

[sinofwriting]

I'm A Matchmaker, Baby - Ollie Bearman, Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen

Words: 4,123 Summary: After Saudi Arabia, Charles fully takes Ollie under his wing, he is his son after all, which leads to Ollie having dinner with the Monaco royal family and meeting the most beautiful girl in the world, the princess of Monaco. Note(s): This is also a Lestappen fic, Max and Charles get together and are together in this fic. They ended up playing a huge part in this fic, so be warned. Also the title is what it is because I can just hear Charles say it.

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Charles had always wanted children. He had wanted children nearly as long as he had wanted to be a Ferrari Formula One driver. He had never expected to be a father this young. But he was and his heart was full because of it.

He wasn’t Ollie’s father on paper or biologically, but what did that matter when it came to the heart and in Charles’ heart, he is Ollie’s father. He already felt something for the young driver, but then Saudi Arabia happened and Ollie had followed him around the Ferrari garage, all polite as he asked his questions, eyes filled with awe and determination. Something had settled in him then. The realization hit only after the race as he waited for the press conference and saw the number of tweets greeting him.

They all were praising Ollie, comparing the two, saying how much Ollie and him were alike. It wasn’t the first time he had heard such things. Arthur had remarked it once, so had Jock, but he hadn’t thought much of it. But now as he scrolled and scrolled and saw the comparisons that fans had made, he couldn’t help but compare them as well. They were quite similar. From the tracks they both liked and performed well at, the love for Ferrari, they both couldn’t cook for shit apparently, and there was even more.

The thing that really got him, a well of fondness striking his heart, was Ollie already talking to someone about this weekend and how when jumping into Carlos’ car for FP3 he struggled with the wheel because he always used Charles’ set up at the factory. It was like it never occurred to him in the near four years he had been with the Ferrari academy to even think of trying another driver’s set up.

“He did well.” A shoulder brushes against his, tehir voice just barely above a murmur.

Charles closes out of his twitter, smiling. “He did very well. Better than Ferrari was expecting.”

He huffs out a laugh, the press of their shoulders becoming firmer. “He really does take after you then.”

A pink blush forms on his cheeks, but he can’t help but beam, pride so quickly filling him. He only seemed to have Ollie for a day, but he would happily kill anyone and anything that would hurt him. “He does. He was amazing during the race, no? Finishing seventh.”

“It’s too bad Lewis is a sure thing. Ollie already seems to be ready for the Ferrari seat.”

If it was anyone else, he would think that they were fishing and if it was anyone else he wouldn’t bother responding, but it was Max. Max had never shared things he said, not when they were matters of the heart or private or even just a bit personal.

“There are things in place. But Ollie would like to do a year in the back or midfield at least before stepping up.”

Max hums, eyebrows furrowed, considering. “Even after this? And what if Carlos isn’t ready for Australia?”

Charles hesitates, eyes darting around, as he thinks of the meeting he has to attend after this to discuss just that.

“Later?” Max offers.

“Later.” He agrees, nodding.

“Nightcap in my room?”

The word yes is on the tip of his tongue, he hates the idea of passing it up, but he shakes his head. “I want to spend some time with Ollie. It was a big day for him. I already plan on getting dinner with him, talking, making sure he is all okay. If you are still up after, perhaps I could stop by?”

Max smiles, eyes crinkling. “You are welcome anytime, of course, Charlie. I’ll have a spare key waiting for you at the front desk or you can always just knock.”

“Thank you, Max.”

Max’s smile grows bigger and he squeezes Charles’ shoulder, once, twice, then three times. “Of course.”

—

Charles leans against the door frame watching as Andrea leads Ollie through the last of his cooldown stretches. His neck was surely hurting and it would be worse tomorrow, but he could see the sheen of cream that Andrea had used on him at the beginning of his F1 career, still did if it had been a practically hard race. And if he knew Andrea which he did, he already knew that there was an extra one in his bag to give to Ollie.

“Hello.” He greets when Ollie finishes his last stretch, straightening with a small groan.

“Charles!” Ollie grins, eyes brightening.

He catches Andrea shaking his head from the corner of his eye, but there’s a fond smile on the older man’s face. “I’ve finished with my meeting, are you ready for dinner?”

Charles fears for a moment his head will come off with how eagerly Ollie shakes it.

They go to a small restaurant, Italian, that Andrea had found for Charles.

Siding into the booth seats, Charles watches, amused, as Ollie looks around with interest, fingers fiddling with his menu.

“I’ve been coming here since the race was introduced. It is nice, no?”

Ollie nods, “it is. Reminds me a bit of…” he trails off and Charles knows what he’s thinking.

“A bit. The owner, her mother, is Italian.”

“Ah.”

Opening the menu, Charles eyes glimpse over it already knowing what he’s going to get, fingers drumming against the table for a moment.

“You did very well during the race, Ollie.”

The boy’s face turns red, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck. “I could have done better.”

Charles shakes his head. “You got one free practice session, managed to qualify ahead of a seven time world champion and a McLaren. You didn’t damage the car and finished in the points. You did fantastic. And you had to get used to a new wheel set up.”

Ollie sputters a bit at the last part.

“It’s just, why would I-” he cuts himself off.

“Why would you what?” Charles asks, staring at him.

“Why would I bother with Carlos’ when yours is there? I mean he’s fine, been nothing nice to me, but you are Ferrari. I wanted to join the academy partially because of you. You’re one of the best of the current generation. And you always let me, let anyone of us bother you with questions.”

“It’s never a bother.” Charles corrects as he thinks of the other Ferrari Driver Academy drivers that sometimes message him with a question or always ask when they see him if he can look over their lap times for a second, which he of course does if he isn’t busy.

“And that! You’re so nice about it. I know Dino once messaged you at three am on accident drunk and you sent a car to get him.”

Charles frowns, “Of course I did. He was in a country he had never been in before and drunk enough to text me. I wouldn’t have been able to sleep if I didn’t know he got back to his hotel okay.”

Ollie groans and then he’s leaning forward, head hitting the table with a loud thunk that has Charles hissing and pushing at Ollie’s shoulder until he raises his head enough for Charles to look at his forehead.

It’s slightly red and Charles frowns, moving his hand to rub gently at the center of the redness.

“Ollie,” he scolds. “You have to be careful. Your neck has gone through enough strain today. And I don’t know if you should risk hitting your head.”

“It’s fine, dad.” Ollie mumbles, pushing Charles hand away to rub at the spot himself before turning an impressive shade of red.

Charles watches, a beam on his face, as Ollie tries to speak again, saying the word dad again before managing to say the first part of his name.

“You get this from your uncle Lorenzo.”

And that just sends Ollie into another sputter of words that don’t make sense.

He drops off Ollie at his hotel room a few hours later, giving him a hug and putting more cream on his neck, before reminding him that Andrea or him will do it again in the morning before or after breakfast depending on how his neck is feeling.

He stops at his own hotel room to grab his carry-on, his regular suitcase already with Joris before going up two floors and knocking on a hotel room door.

“Charles.” Max greets, eyes crinkling as he smiles before he draws him for a hug.

“Hello.” He presses a kiss to Max’s cheek and ignores the way his own cheeks turn pink as well Max’s from the gesture.

Stepping into the room, he moves further in, setting his carry on by the bed, before collapsing on it, his lips stretching into a smile as he thinks of his dinner with Ollie.

“You are very happy.” Max comments, laying next to him.

“I am. I am very happy.” He breathes. “I’m a dad, Max.” Saying the words out loud, makes his grin grow.

“You-” Max coughs, “you’re a what?”

“A dad, a papa. I do not know the Dutch word for it.”

Max says the Dutch word for dad instantly, like he always does when Charles makes a comment about not knowing the Dutch word for something. “Thank you.” He says, repeating what Max said.

Max clears his throat after a moment and Charles turns his head to look at Max and is surprised to see pain in the blue eyes he likes looking into so much and there’s an unsure expression on Max’s face. His body is still turned towards Charles, but he’s closed off, arms over his chest.

“What is wrong?” Charles asks, concern dripping from his words.

“How old?”

He blinks at him, struggling with the question. “How old is what?”

“The baby. How old is the baby? I mean has it been born?”

Charles stares at him, slightly dumbfounded, because what language was Max speaking? It couldn’t be English.

Then it hits him, his breath of happiness, of him saying he’s a dad.

“No, no!” He scrambles upwards before leaning over Max, hands cupping the barely older’s face. “It is not a baby. I’m talking about Ollie, chérie. I am his dad. Twitter was going on and on about it and then at dinner, oh, Max.” He sighs. “He called me dad.”

The hurt vanishes from Max’s face at his words, cheeks a touch pink from the way Charles is touching him, from the name he called him.

“You two are alike.” He offers before softening further as Charles’ thumbs start to stroke his cheekbones. “I’m sure you are an amazing dad.”

Charles beams at him. “I hope so. Ollie had to learn Carlos’ wheel setup.”

Max snorts at the whisper. “I see Ollie is part of the Charles Leclerc is the best club.” Charles flushes, “well you would know.”

He smiles, his fingers finding Charles’ waist. “Yes, I would. It would be poor if the president of the club didn’t know all the members.”

“Max.”

“Charles.”

“Kiss me finally.”

The sheer want on Max’s face has Charles letting out a whine.

“I won’t keep you a secret if we do that Charles. I can’t cross that line.”

Charles shakes his head, “I would never ask you to.” And he finally says, reveals, let outs, the conversation he had before signing his new contract, his one of many non-negotiables. “Ferrari knows. John threw his full support behind me after I called him. They ask for three to six months, just to get things in place, protection. I know, it’s still a secret, but I just have to message them and they set things in motion.” He rambles.

“Charles,” Max breathes, cutting him off and shaking his head. “You talked to Ferrari about us?”

He ducks his head, flushing. “I’m tired of not having all of you, of not getting to say that I’m yours and you are mine. I want more than glances and fleeting touches. I want to be consumed by you. I couldn’t do another year of not knowing what it felt like to feel your hands on my bare skin, to feel your lips on mine. I couldn’t do it.”

Max stares up at him, throat bobbing and there’s a gentle pressure on the back of his neck. “I love you so much.”

And Charles is unable to respond, the lips on his preventing it and he can’t even try to be angry about it as he happily kisses, gets kissed by, Max for the first time.

—

Charles knows that having booked a private room for breakfast the next morning makes it seem like what happened with Max was planned, but thankfully Max knows him. He knows that Charles most mornings on race weekends likes to have breakfast in private, especially if he still is there the next day after the race. Wants to start his day with some peace and be surrounded by his choice of people. Max has never made it to one of these breakfasts before and this is Ollie’s first as well.

Entering the room, and it was nice that only did the hotel have a good restaurant in it but also let you rent out rooms just to eat, hand in hand with Max, he smiles at Ollie, spotting him first, giving Max’s hand a squeeze before letting it go and moving to pull Ollie into a quick hug.

He nearly presses bisous to his cheeks, as he does with all the people he thinks of as family or close to it in greeting, but he doesn’t know if Ollie would be comfortable with it, so he settles for just squeezing him a bit tighter.

Andrea gets greeted with a squeeze to the shoulder as the trainer sips at a cup of coffee, Joris the same, though he has to dodge an elbow to his side, which makes him laugh.

He goes to Pierre after, giving him bisous and getting them in return before his friend looks behind him where Max must be, his eyebrow raising slightly.

Charles flushes, “we are together now, Pierre.”

“Well, I had no doubts about that. You are glowing. I just can’t tell if it’s from finally getting together with Max, becoming a parent, or both.”

“Both. Have you spoken to Ollie?”

Pierre shakes his head.

“You’ll love him and you can go maybe get a head start on being his favorite uncle behind Arthur.”

He scoffs, “as if Arthur could be a better uncle than me.”

“Well, he has a head start.”

Pierre mutters under his breath as he heads over to where Ollie is awkwardly standing and Charles returns to Max’s side, intertwining their fingers and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Pierre gunning for favorite uncle?”

Charles smiles at the question, unable to help himself from pressing another kiss to Max’s cheek. “Yes.

He’ll get a leg up on Lorenzo, but Arthur is fairly ahead of them both.”

He hums, turning his head to capture Charles’ lips in a short kiss. “At least Vic will be favorite Aunt. Two of them will have to deal with not being the favorite.”

“That’ll be bloody.” Charles scoffs, he still had a scar on his lower back from when Lorenzo and him had roughhoused.

Their mother had been distraught when she had seen the blood, horrified. Their father hadn’t been happy about it but had easily come to terms with being an accident. Poor Arthur had refused to leave him alone, clinging to him as he had been there, though playing on their shared DS.

Jules though… despite having been Lorenzo’s best friend, he had been taken with Charles as soon as he first held him. It had been a joke between Jules’ parents and his to make Jules his godfather, but Jules had latched on to the idea, despite Lorenzo’s protests about Jules liking a gross baby, and by the time Charles was a year old, Jules happily held the title of godfather to Charles.

“You know you won’t win favorite dad with Ollie, right?”

Max smiles, soft and slightly amused. “I know.” His eyes flicker over to where Pierre is talking to Ollie,

Andrea and Joris having their own discussion, though all of their eyes flicker to where Charles and Max are standing.

“And you are okay with that?” There’s a hint of disbelief in his voice.

“Charles,” Max laughs. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been okay with winning instead of me. And I, of course, can’t be upset that Ollie thinks the world of you, and will see you as his favorite.”

The barely younger has to blink back tears, “You say the sweetest things, cherie.”

“Only for you, Charlie. Only for you.”

—

“Are you sure I should be coming with you?”

Charles sends him a look and Ollie can’t help but duck his head. “It is for family and I have a good relationship with them. I could bring fifty people and say they are family and it would be okay. And you are family.” He gently cuffs Ollie’s ear. “Max will be coming too.”

“Even after?”

“Yes, even after.”

Ollie doesn’t bother asking how Charles has a custom suit that fits him perfectly, it’s just who Charles and even Max are, though Max doesn’t do any clothes shopping, it’s either sponsored clothing or now things that Charles buys him.

In the car ride to the palace, Max tells him the names of the royal family. And Ollie repeats them over and over again in his head.

“Why won’t Gabriella and Jacques be there?” Ollie asks again, thinking of the youngest two children.

“This is technically a publicity dinner, though it is private. They are only nine, Albert and Charlene are very protective. Next time we are in Monaco there will be a lunch and they will be there for that.”

“But Y/N will be there?”

“Yes.” Charles nods. “She is your age and this is private, but she is not set to inherit the throne.”

“But, a girl could inherit. Gabriella is.” Ollie remembers that much for Max’s rambles about different royal families and their workings.

“Yes, though she is behind Jacques since he was born first, though they are twins. Y/N isn’t interested in being the heir apparent, she currently does such duties and is willing to step up if neither of her siblings want to take the title.”

“Jacques is slightly keen on it, I imagine that Gabriella will be the one to take it.” Max chimes in.

Ollie watches amused as Charles and Max begin to playfully bicker about the siblings though it’s clear that Charles thinks the same as Max.

The car rolls to a stop and Ollie has to take a deep breath before exiting the car after Charles. He watches as the prince greets him warmly, giving him a hug before Charlene does and then Ollie’s breath catches a girl, his age, envelopes Charles into a hug.

They’ve clearly met and know each other well with the way Charles beams at her and her back and he can just hear Charles asking her about something before his attention is drawn away by Max introducing him to Prince Albert.

Ollie ducks his head, extending his hand out. “It’s an honor to meet you, Prince Albert.”

The prince lets out a chuckle, shaking his hand. “You as well, Ollie. But you can just call me Albert. No need for formalities, not when you are Charles’ son.”

Ollie flushes at the words, but flashes a pleased grin.

“And Max, it’s always good to see you.” Albert cheers, bringing in the world champion for a hug.

“You as well, Albert.”

Charlene greets him much quieter than Albert, though she immediately insists on him not referring to her as princess. “It is lovely to meet you. Charles and Max have both talked about you.”

“Oh, thank you. They’ve both talked about you as well, you and your family.”

“Max and Charles are kind.”

He nods in agreement.

“Ollie,” Charles calls and he instantly turns to look at him. “I want you to meet, Princess Y/N.”

“Please, just call me Y/N.” She immediately says with a shake of her head, before extending a hand out.

“It’s nice to meet you, Ollie.”

He can feel himself turning red as they shake hands, her eyes on him and even just the slightest touch of their fingers and palms. “You as well.”

—

“So Ollie,” Charles murmurs, the words nearly a slur from sleep and the many drinks he had.

Max pulls Charles tighter, nosing at his wet hair, happy that even this drunk it was easy to get Charles to take one, get rid of the stench of the clubs they had been in. “Yeah, he definitely likes Y/N.”

“Oh, thank god. She clearly likes him. I mean did you see her at dinner and then at Jimmy’z? She was so flustered. She confused her silverware. She hasn’t done that once in the near eight years I’ve known her.”

“Charles,” Max warns, already knowing where this is headed and he just knows he’s not going to hear the end of this when they wake up in a few hours, hungover and eager to indulge in greasy food before a workout. “Don’t play matchmaker.”

He can feel his pout against his collarbone, before he’s moving until he’s entirely on top of him and Max lets out a silent oof as Charles’ elbows knock against his ribs, but his hands follow along, eagerly wrapping his arms around him and pulling him until he’s pressed completely against him.

“But babe.”

Max flushes at the pet name. “Go to sleep, Charles. Think about it in the morning.” His eyes slip shut as he realizes what he just said, a silent fuck leaving his mouth

Charles wiggles against him, a beam pressed against his cheek. “I knew you’d help me! Yes, we will talk after we sleep. I’m thinking a lot of flowers and my yacht. They’ll love it.”

“Mhmm.” Max says, “let’s go to bed.”

“Okay. Love you, chérie.”

“Love you too.”

—

Stepping onto the yacht, Ollie gives a smile to the older gentleman that Charles hires to drive the yacht when he’s not feeling up to it or knows he’s going to be drinking.

“Hi Nicholas.”

“Good afternoon, Ollie.” His lips twitch into a smile. “Your father has asked that you go below until we are at sea.”

“He has a surprise for me, doesn’t he?”

Nicholas shrugs, “I’m unaware of any surprise.”

Ollie groans that was definitely a yes.

Despite that, he goes below deck, settling nicely into the hammock that is there despite the much better and cozier one that is above.

It’s over thirty minutes before Charles sends him a text telling him to come up.

Getting out of the hammock, he jogs up the stairs and over to the part of the deck where they always eat. He nearly skids to a stop however when he sees a massive amount of flowers and his breath catches, the princess.

“Princess Y/N, I had no idea.” He runs a hand through his hair and tries to not think about the t-shirt he is wearing.

She quickly stands, nearly tipping forward, but he quickly grabs her, keeping her upright. She smiles,

“Ollie, it’s nice to see you again. Did Charles message you about lunch as well?”

He smiles back at her, heart beating a little faster. “Yeah. Have you seen him?”

Her eyebrows press together, “I thought he was down below. That’s what Nicholas said.”

“Nicholas told me to wait down below until we were at sea. Charles texted me telling me to come up here.”

Ollie’s cheeks flush and his hands that were still resting on her drop, something he can’t help but mourn a little. “I think I know why he isn’t here, but we are.”

“Oh?”

He nearly gulps, hands feeling a little sweaty. “At the dinner, I was a bit flustered.”

She lets out a small laugh. “Most people are at dinner with my parents, especially my father.”

“I was nervous.” He tells her. “But, I was flustered because of you. I mean, you’re so beautiful.”

“Oh.” She blinks before her head ducks down. “I was flustered as well.”

A smile pulls at his lips at the quiet whisper. “Really?”

“Yes. I mean, I used my table fork instead of my salad fork. I haven’t done that since I was maybe ten.”

“I really made you flustered.”

“Unbelievably so.” She laughs.

“Shall we have this lunch that Charles put together? Maybe plan another lunch or dinner for after this?”

“I’d love that.”

[polakina]

how they kiss you

red dead redemption headcanons #1

hc masterlist // masterlist

wanted to do some rdr2 headcanons since my cod ones have been so fun. send in any ideas. im all ears, petals

rating: explicit

-

every kiss with this man feels like a breath of fresh air

so passionate

he loves catching you off guard with kisses

smiles when he sees your look of bewilderment when he sneaks behind you, planting a kiss on your cheek

likes to hold your face when he kisses you, his hands on your cheeks, holding you close

smells of burnt wood and tastes of cigarettes, but you love it nonetheless

always kisses softly, but deeply, until your head clouds and you can't focus on anything but the moment

favourite place to kiss you is your neck

likes to sit behind you at the campfire when he's taking a break from playing his guitar

he wraps his arms around you and kisses your neck softly every time

you think it's just because he likes to be close to you

but the real reason is because he can feel your pulse quicken under your skin, the beating against his lips speeding up with each kiss

it's your favourite place to be kissed, and he knows it

is the instigator of most kisses

tilts your chin up if you're sat at the camp table to kiss your lips

pulls you into him by your waist if you're passing by and kisses your cheek before going on watch around camp

nsfw (minors LEAVE)

you can tell when he's needy for you just based on how he kisses you

in camp, it's sweet but fleeting

he never lingers

when you're alone, they're deeper, his tongue searching the crevice of your mouth

or even if you're at the campfire with everyone else, and he kisses you until the breath leaves your lungs, you know exactly what he wants

he may love to kiss your neck, but nothing beats kissing his way down your body in the confines of your shared tent

kissing your stomach and your thighs, the noises you make, his lips never want to leave your skin

he likes to bite your bottom lip when he kisses you, mumbling against your neck as he works his way down your body about how much he wants you, all the things he wants to do to you

he kisses you like it's the last time his lips will ever touch yours

fervently, passionately

and nothing but that

his lips are planted hard and firmly against yours, his hands cradling the back of your neck and wrapped around your lower back

always says he loves you between kisses

his favourite place to kiss you are your hands, though

sweet, innocent hand or knuckle kisses are what he really loves

takes your hand in his whenever he's preparing to ride out, and leans down from his horse to kiss the back of your hand

his beard always tickles your skin, and he smiles when you giggle at the roughness of his scruff

he started to kiss your knuckles because you did it to him

his bruised fingers and bloodied knuckles, you kissed them and said it'd make his hands feel better

it was bullshit, but you did it anyway, and he loved it

likes to kiss all over your face, peppering your features in his kisses

he stands taller than you, so likes to tip your head up to kiss you

dips his head with a smirk on his face when he kisses your lips

nsfw (minors LEAVE)

always starts with your hands when you're in the bedroom

kisses each of your knuckles while his eyes remain fixed on yours

loves loves LOVES to kiss you when he's inside you

whether you're on top, sinking down slowly onto him, or whether he's hovered above you

he loves kissing you slowly, deeply, his tongue mingling with yours as his taste of whiskey and smoke seeps into your mouth

loves when you moan into his mouth, that shit could make arthur cum on the spot

especially loves to kiss you afterwards, kissing the tip of your nose as you laid there together, breathing some air back into your lungs

his kisses are hesitant, and you can feel the nerves behind his kisses

he was especially nervous to kiss you the first time. the man was a bag of shakes when he first kissed you

and he's been like that ever since

he's a simple man

his favourite place to kiss you is your lips

sweet innocent kisses from him when you wake in a morning is what fuels you for the day

before he leaves for a job, or to hunt, or to basically anything, will kiss you softly and quickly, almost as if he didn't kiss you at all

they're quick pecks, he doesn't do much more than that

like i said, he's a simple man

is first and foremost a gentleman, will ask to kiss you when you get a moment alone

doesn't like pda, won't do it in front of the group unless he's in a panic from a job gone wrong

that's when he'll hold you tightly, kissing you deeply and whispering how much you worried him

but other than that, will ask for your permission

you've told him countless times he doesn't have to ask, and countless times he's ignored you and asked anyway

nsfw (minors LEAVE)

when he fucks you, he mainly kisses you to keep himself quiet

if he didn't, his groans would fill the tent

the man cannot be quiet

but when he's in that blissful moment of feeling you clench around his cock, he practically begs for you to kiss him

he loves being close to you when the two of you are alone

"fuck. please kiss me, darlin'. you feel too good. i need you"

kisses you with a sense of passion you haven't felt before when he's inside you

bites your bottom lip, your neck, kisses all over your chest and breasts

absolutely obsessed with your body

[gaiussleechtank]

It was one of those nights: the peaceful ones where both King and Court Warlock could shed their titles and just exist as two friends sharing cups of wine beside a fire. Both were silent as they nursed their drinks and basked in the dim lighting the fire provided Arthur’s dark chambers.

Merlin was lying across the floor on top of countless pillows and blankets, parallel to the hearth of the fireplace. His feet were bare as he had kicked off his boots hours earlier and the cords of his tunic were pulled extremely loose. Merlin’s legs were crossed one over the other as one hand played with a lock of his own hair as the other blindly traced the engravings of his goblet.

Arthur was sat his chair above Merlin, facing the fire and looking down at the peaceful man. He was glad that Merlin’s eyes were closed because it allowed the King to openly stare. For someone who was regarded to be so aware of everything all of the time - Merlin has not once ever cottoned on to Arthur’s gaze on him. In a way, it was reassuring that Arthur didn’t have to fear being caught by the very man he was observing. But it another way it was far too frustrating: Arthur nearly wanted to be caught and then in turn be forced to admit his reasons for staring.

For the Goddess’ sake, how could Arthur not look anywhere but Merlin with the man lying so enchantingly in front of him, doused in the golden light of the flames?

How could he lay his eyes elsewhere when nothing and no one else brought him nearly as much happiness and fulfilment in his heart than Merlin?

How could he when Merlin was everything that he loved?

The nearly empty goblet rested on his lap with his hands encircling the rim, it would be stupid to say it.

“Merlin?” Arthur broke their silence.

Merlin hummed in response, he didn’t move nor open his eye, but the tone of his voice easily told Arthur that he was listening.

“I’m in love with you.” Oh, fuck.

The body in front of him stilled. Merlin’s hand retracted from his hair as he slowly sat up. Arthur couldn’t tell you when the Warlock’s eyes had opened but he could give you a thousand words at least on what it felt like to be under their unending gaze. Merlin didn’t look away from Arthur as he got to his feet and came to stand in front of his King.

Merlin might not have ever been aware of when Arthur’s eyes were on him - but Arthur was far too aware of Merlin’s piercing stare. The King averted his eyes and stared down at the lingering mouthful of wine in his cup, listening to Merlin’s few footsteps.

A hand slid underneath Arthur’s jaw and half cupped the side of his face: hesitantly, Arthur let himself be guided to look up at Merlin. Had it been anyone else, this would have been so dangerous - to willing put his heart and mind at risk by giving someone else so much control over him would have been a death wish if it were anyone else.

Yet this was Merlin, the one person in his life that he would faithfully trust the world with to the ends of time.

It was sad eyes that Arthur saw. Not angry. Not disgusted. Not hurt, or even happy. Sad, sad, eyes that Arthur would nearly say were brokenhearted.

Merlin sighed with a pained and defeated expression. “Not again.”

“What?” Arthur felt his breath catch in his throat.

Merlin smiled with a soft pain, his thumb stroked over Arthur cheek as he said, “You don’t love me, Arthur.”

“I- I do.” Arthur stammered, he hadn’t anticipated out right refusal, denial and disbelief as an outcome. “I do love you, Merlin.”

Merlin swallows and seemed to choke back tears.

“No, Arthur, you don’t.” He repeated. “This is a love enchantment, this has happened before. You aren’t in love with me.”

The words were far too rehearsed, Merlin’s expression too knowing and understanding. Arthur felt like a petulant child being gently corrected on the truth. Had this really happened before? Had Arthur been enchanted to be in love with Merlin before?

“Merlin, I know my feelings, please believe me.” Arthur begged in futile.

“I don’t think you realise how badly I want to, but I can’t.”

Arthur’s eyes widened at Merlin’s confession - even though the feelings were reciprocated, Arthur was still being rejected - but he saw it. He saw all of the held back and restrained love Merlin held in his eyes for Arthur. He finally was bearing witness to Merlin’s affection, only because the Warlock was allowing him to.

“Is it really so unbelievable that I love you that you are convinced my mind is under the control of a spell of potion?”

“I know you love me - in the way friends love one another, brothers even.” Merlin stressed, his words clearly hurting himself. “But you don’t love me the way I want you to, you never have and you never will.”

“You do want me to love you like this?” Arthur countered.

Merlin closed his eyes and shakily let out a sob, his hands ran from Arthur’s jaw and face, around the King’s neck and weakly grasped at the back of Arthur’s head. He pressed his face into Arthur’s hair, Arthur pulled Merlin in closer and strung his arms around the Warlock’s waist and back: he could feel Merlin weep.

“You won’t remember this conversation, you never have, so why not?” Merlin muttered with a bitterness that surprised the King. “I have loved you for years, Arthur, what I feel for you goes beyond the devotion of prophecy and bond of friendship. I’ve always known that you will never feel the same.”

How his heart ached on the verge of breaking: Merlin loved him. He was in love with Arthur. He felt the same as Arthur but clearly awful past experiences that Arthur cannot remember are preventing him from acting on the truth.

Arthur tried to speak but was cut off before he could even utter a syllable.

“No, Arthur, please stop.” Merlin said, slipping out of Arthur embrace. He looked so guilty.

Merlin believed Arthur not to be in control of his mind and actions, he believed Arthur to be susceptible to anything. Though Merlin was nowhere near the kind of person to take advantage of someone under the influence of something mind altering. Even though this ‘supposed potion or enchantment’ was giving him what the Warlock wanted, Merlin still held back and refused.

Even such a simple embrace, the kind of embrace that was becoming more commonly between them as the years progressed seemed to wreck so much regret through the man - Arthur wanted to shake him and scream at how wrong Merlin was: that he could and was consenting to any any hold or touch Merlin could or would give him.

Arthur stood up and met Merlin far too closely. Their faces were mere inches apart, dangerously so. The King saw how badly Merlin wanted to give in, he could see the arguments and thought process that Merlin was going through.

His hand hovered over the side of Merlin’s face as leaned in closer.

“Don’t.”

He froze.

“You’re not in the right state of mind.” Merlin breathed out, more for his own sake than Arthur’s.

Arthur hand fell to his side but he didn’t move away.

“Please tell me how I can prove my honesty.” He asked.

Merlin looked down with resignation and then turned away to the doors.

“Come, Sire, follow me.” Merlin murmured as he left.

He hadn’t called Arthur ‘Sire’ in years, not even in heated arguments did Merlin enforce that distance between them. It spoke tales to Arthur on how hurt his best friend was. He dashed after Merlin, it wasn’t hard to follow the sound of weary footsteps.

They were heading for Merlin’s laboratory. Arthur caught up with broken hearted Warlock and joined their hands together - Merlin allowed it.

Met with the smell of dodgy potions, old books, strong herbs, ash and numerous other smells that Arthur had grown familiar with associating with Merlin’s experiments, Arthur saw and felt Merlin relax slightly. They were on his ground now, they followed his rules.

Arthur let go of Merlin’s hand and took his chair that he always sat in when observing Merlin work.

“You stare a lot.” Merlin said as he leafed through shelves of bottles - no doubt searching for a cure-all potion that he had concocted in earlier years.

“I always have, you’ve just never noticed.” Arthur replied honestly.

Merlin sighed for the thousandth time that hour and stood up straight and returned to Arthur, bottle in hand. It was a small vial with opaque pink liquid filling less than a third of the bottle. He stood on the other side of the work bench and handed over the vial of anti-serum.

Wordlessly and without hesitation Arthur uncorked the bottle and drank his mouthful. Setting down the bottle, he leaned closer to Merlin, head propped up by his elbow, hand under chin, staring at Merlin patiently.

The Warlock also leaned closer, gold creeping into his eyes without a single incantation as he analysed Arthur’s reaction to the potion. The world seemed to hold its breath as it waited for the two men to get onto the same page.

“Well, am I really under an enchantment?” Arthur asked after a very long pause.

Merlin’s mouth fell open as his brow and eyes once again creased into tears.

“No… You aren’t.” Merlin managed to say, covering his face as he cried.

Arthur stood up and joined Merlin on the other side of the workbench. He pulled the shocked and relieved and sobbing Warlock into another hug. Both holding onto each other equally tight.

“I love you, Merlin.” Arthur promised his Warlock firmly.

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 , PART 22 , PART 23 , PART 24 , PART 25 , PART 26 (You're here), PART 27

In the throne room.

Gaius: (enters and bows) Sire.

Uther: (At a table, offers him to sit next to him) It have come to my attention your ward is now quite popular above the people.

Gaius: I'm guessing you're referring to The Unicorn Catcher song, Sire?

Uther: (nods and sighs) Did you bring some of your concoction? (rubs his temples)

Gaius: (pulls out a little bottle from his pocket and starts mixing it with the drink Uther has already there) Sire, you don't really believe Merlin crossed pats with a unicorn, right? Because I can assure you-

Uther: Whether it's true or not is not really the problem.

Gaius: ... What?

Uther: If it's a lie, then that boy did a marvelous job to create himself a reputation portraying as a saint. If it's true, then he's been tempting my son with his virginity! I don't know which option is worst to be honest! This seductive demon-! (his eye tics)

Gaius: Drink. (gives him his drink) Just to get this straight, you aren't worry about the unicorn at all then, Sire?

Uther: (drinks it all in one go) Why would I worry about a horse with a horn wandering in the woods when the actual danger is here between the walls of this castle in the body of a peasant boy?! (stands up abruptly and looks at his vase frustrated) This thing isn't strong enough! (throws it away and Gaius flinches when it breaks) I know his kind, he gained my son's favor so when he becomes King he will turn him into his puppet king, or worst, he wants my son to make him regent so he'll have all the power! This boy is going to steal my kingdom!

Gaius: Sire, I promise you, Merlin is not that kind of person.

Uther: Really? Explain to me then why he dared to humiliate my son infront of his Knights? Tell me how that wasn't him showing off how much influence he has over the Prince of Camelot!

Gaius: (sighs, thinking) Of course he learned about that too. (says) Merlin is impertinent, I won't deny that, but he's not ambicious. In fact, if Merlin indeed encountered unicorn, that in itself would be prove of that. These magical creatures don't only feel attracted to the pureness in body, but the pureness in heart too. If Merlin had any malice in his heart it wouldn't have aproached him at all.

Uther: Oh, please! Why else would that boy humiliate himself to accept the affections of a man if not for his lust for power?

Gaius: Didn't it occur to your Majesty that for Merlin that's not an humiliation at all.

Uther: (frowns, confused) What do you mean?

Gaius: Well, Merlin has never showed any interest in girls, Sire. And, his status as prince aside, Arthur is a very handsome and attractive man. He also posseses very good qualities as a person. He's compassionate, brave, just, a very chivalrous man-

Uther: Are you trying to tell me that your ward is actually in love with my son?

Gaius: With all due respect, Sire, is pretty obvious that Arthur's feelings are not one sided. But you've been so absorbed in only thinking the worst of Merlin since he came here that you haven't realise that! I know my ward. He can be too dense and insolent for his own good, yes, but he's not a greedy person, much less a villain whose porpuse is to conquer an entire kingdom. He wouldn't even think of it. Merlin's heart is incapable of any evil.

Guard 1: (enters and bows) Your Majesty, Sir Silfred is here. He says he has important news for you.

Uther: Let him in.

Silfred: (enters and bows) Sire.

Uther: I'm hoping there's been a progress in your investigation.

Silfred: We still couldn't find any traces of Lady Sophia and Lord Aulfric, Sire. Not of them specifically at least. But we did find some dry blood stains deep in the woods.

Uther: They could be of anybody.

Silfred: That's what we thought. But then we found this nearby. (pulls out a purple neckerchief) It has stains of blood too. (gives it to Uther) Does it look familiar to you, Sire?

Gaius: (pales)

Uther: (analysing the fabric, icy calmed) It does... Thank you, Sir Silfred. You're dismissed.

Silfred: (bows and leaves)

Uther: (turns to Gaius) Your boy can be all chaste, Gaius, but he's definitely not pure hearted. He's evil in his very soul! And this is the prove! (throws the neckerchief at Gaius, who catches it in reflex) I knew something was off when Aulfric and Sophia dissapeared so suddenly and now I know why! He murdered them! He knew Sophia would be an obstacle for his plans so he got rid of her!

Gaius: (composes enough and stands up, firmly) I think you're running to conclusions, Sire.

Uther: Don't protect him, Gaius! Or are you going to deny this is his?

Gaius: It looks similar to the ones Merlin uses, yes, but Merlin is not the only person in Camelot that wears neckerchiefs.

Uther: True, but what about a purple one? Only royalty can afford purple fabric and there are only two royals in Camelot. And neither Arthur nor I wear this type of clothing. But we do know who likes to give expensive gifts to a certain servant.

Gaius: Even if it was Merlin's, we can't really be sure the blood is from Sophia and her father. You said it yourself, sire, it could be from anybody.

Uther: You dare to contradict me!

Gaius: All I'm saying is that in a court that wouldn't be enough prove to condem a person.

Uther: (yells) I am the King and therefore the judge and I say this is prove enough!

Gaius: (yells back) And would it be prove enough for Arthur?

Uther: ...

Gaius: (composes himself) I just fear, Sire, that if you condem Merlin based only on this evidence, Arthur won't accept it.

Uther: (sighs) I'm not naive enough to believe that Arthur doesn't know about this.

Gaius: (a bit nervous) What... what do you mean, Sire?

Uther: Sir Silfred is the best at finding traces and yet he could only find this piece of clothing and some blood stains. Even the smartest and strongest men can't hide a body that well in such short amount of time, let alone a skinny peasant boy. There's only one posible explanation.

Gaius: That he didn't do it?

Uther: That he had help! And not from other than my son, nonetheless! If Arthur's already, not only favoring, but covering him, we're doomed! that boy could even murder me and Arthur would let him!

Gaius: (thinking, worried) He's not stupid. It's incredible that he discovered what happened with so little clues, but his level of paranoia is worrying. He's right, but he's SO wrong at the same time. (says in a soothing voice) Merlin is no murderer, Sire. But even if he was, Arthur would never allow something like that, no matter how much he loves Merlin. You're not only his king, you're his father.

Uther: (grunts)

Gaius: But if you are so worried about my ward, Sire, why don't you talk to him?

Uther: (in disbelief) Talk?

Gaius: If you could take the opportunity to properly talk to him, maybe you'd realize he is not the person you believe him to be, Sire. Now you have this bad image of Merlin, but you haven't actually bother to know him.

Uther: Of course I haven't bother. He's a servant.

Gaius: But you fear the influence of said servant, Sire.

Uther: ...

Gaius: It's just a suggestion, Sire.

Uther: (sighs) Fine. (calls out) Guards!

Guards: (enter)

Uther: Bring the Prince's manservant here inmediatly.

Guards: Yes, Sire. (bow and leave)

Gaius: You could have sent me for him.

Uther: So you warn him in advance? No, I want to see his genuine reaction when a question him about this. (takes the neckerchief from Gaius' hands)

Gaius: Wait...you're going to interrogate him, Sire? 😨. That's not what I meant with "talking"!

Uther: I'm giving him a chance to defend himself, so be grateful.

Gaius: Of course I am, Sire. (thinking) Gods help me! Merlin please deny that neckerchief is yours!

Short time skip.

Merlin: (enters, confused but chill) Did you call for me, Sire?

Uther: You're talking to your King.

Merlin: I know.

Uther: Then why aren't you bowing?

Merlin: Oh, sorry. (bows quickly) Did you call for me, Sire?

Gaius: (facepalms internally)

Uther: I did call you. I have a very important matter to discuss with you.

Merlin: (more confused) Me?

Uther: (turns to Gaius) You are dismissed.

Gaius: (pleades) Sire-

Uther: Do as I say.

Gaius: (sighs) Yes, Sire. (bows and leaves)

Merlin: (starts worrying) What's... going on?

Uther: (about to pull out the neckerchief to start the interrogation) You-

Arthur: (enters and smiles politely) Sorry I'm late. What's the matter at hand?

Uther: I didn't call for you.

Arthur: But you call for Merlin and anything that concerns my manservant concerns me.

Merlin: (hisses) Arthur!

Arthur: (ignores him, but walks a few steps forward to be infront of Merlin) So, what is it that you want to discuss with my manservant so urgently, father? (keeps talking and smiling politely, but somehow he also sounds threatening)

Uther: (thinking) This won't work if Arthur is here. The boy will be confident he'll come to his aid. (says) I was just wondering if you knew anything about this song that's beeen circulating around lately.

Merlin: (nervous and blushing) You mean the Unicorn Catcher song, Sire?

Arthur: You called my manservant here just because of a tavern song? You must know that story is nothing but the product of some minstrel's imagination.

Uther: I'm very aware of that, Arthur. But that song is tainting your reputation.

Merlin: (sighs in relief, though still confused) But the song hardly mentions Arthur.

Uther: It mentions him enough. Now it's a song and then, last I thing I know, everyone in Camelot is saying that The Prince only takes young virgin boys to bed.

Merlin: (blushes more furiously, feeling humiliated)

Arthur: (notices and swallows his anger for the hiding insult to Merlin in Uther's words)

Uther: (to Merlin, aproaching) So, if you had anything to do with that song...

Arthur: (puts himself between Merlin and his father) It was Sir Ewan and Sir Innprudence who spreaded the rumor, father. Merlin had nothing to do with that. I already got them arrested for talking nonsense while drunk and causing all this mess, so you don't have to worry.

Uther: I did hear they were arrested. (sighs) That's all I wanted to know. You're dismissed.

Arthur and Merlin: (bow and leave)

Uther: (thinking) I need to find I way to get that boy alone, but how?

Time skip. Merlin, Gaius and Lancelot in Gaius' Tower.

Merlin: He found what?! 😨

Gaius: Your neckerchief, Merlin. And with stains of blood. So it doesn't look good.

Merlin: But that's impossible! Lancelot burned all the clothes!

Lancelot: I thought I did. But it was dark, maybe it fell while I was carrying the pile. (very guilty) I'm so sorry Merlin, I should've been more careful.

Merlin: Don't be. You saved Arthur's life and we didn't have much time.

Gaius: Uther won't arrest you, I convinced him to give you a chance to defend yourself. So when he calls for you again you just have to deny that neckerchief is yours and show him you are not the villain he built in his head.

Merlin: I need to tell Arthur. (makes a move to leave)

Gaius: (stops him) No! Uther wants to interrogate you alone, if you tell him he will sneak in again.

Merlin: I'll tell him not to go.

Lancelot: And you think he'll listen?

Merlin: I don't know. But he was involved in this too and I won't lie to him more than I need to. (leaves)

Gaius: Wait, Merlin! There's something else I need to tell you. Merlin! (makes a move to go after him)

Lancelot: (stops him) Tell me and I'll give him the message. I'll get to him faster.

Meanwhile, in Morgana's chambers. Arthur and Morgana having some kind of tea party, while Gwen braids Morgana's hair.

Morgana: (laughing) You men are so inmature.

Arthur: I was not inmature. He hit me first, I just defended myself.

Mogana: And then you fighted over who was Merlin's best friend. Yeah, very mature.

Gwen: I thought I was Merlin's best friend (pouts)

Morgana: You are his best GIRL friend.

Gwen: (mocking) So that means you are not his best girl friend?

Morgana: (plays along) How dare you! I'll fight you! (makes silly fighting movements)

Arthur: (complains) Stop it! (but can't help but laugh)

Merlin: (enters sudenly)

Morgana: Merlin! Knock first! I could be changing my clothes.

Arthur: Now you know what I have to endure everyday (looks at Merlin expression and frowns, worried) Merlin, what is it? (stands up and goes to him) Did something happen?

Merlin: Arthur-

Guard 1: (interrupts) Sire, The King wants you to interrogate a sorcerer in the dungeons.

Morgana: (feels mad and sad for what's probably going to be another unfair execution, but doesn't say anything)

Arthur: (notices) Lets discuss this outside.

Merlin, Arthur and Guards: (Get out of Morgana's chambers)

Arthur: (closes the door behind him) Can't it wait?

Guard 2: I fear not. It's a very dangerous sorcerer, we had to put him in cold iron, so the King wants to execute him as soon as possible. But he also wants to get as much information he can from him. Apparently he was the leader of a group of renegate soreceres.

Arthur: I understand. (to Merlin) We'll talk later. (makes a move to leave)

Merlin: (makes a move to go with him)

Arthur: (stops him) Merlin, no. Stay. I have to do this alone. (thinking) I don't want you to see that, nor do I want to put you in danger.

Merlin: You can't stop me. (thinking) Like I'm going to let you alone with a dangerous sorcerer!

Arthur: (sighs) Merlin-

Lancelot: (arrives running) Merlin! (takes a breath) By the Gods, you run fast. (bows to Arthur) Sire, I'm sorry, but Gaius needs Merlin urgently.

Arthur: (releaved) It's alright, Lancelot. I have urgents matters to attend too. (follows the guards and leaves)

Merlin: (about to leave but Lancelot stops him) Let go of me! 😡 Arthur is about to interrogate a dangerous sorcerer I need to be there! Whatever urgency Gaius has can wait!

Lancelot: There's no dangerous sorcerer.

Merlin: (stops struggling) ...What?

Lancelot: There is no dangerous sorcerer and there is no urgency. That's what Gaius wanted to explain to you. Is part of the plan.

Merlin: The plan? What plan?

In the dungeons. Arthurs goes with the guards to a cell, but finds it empty.

Arthur: Where's the prisoner?

Guards: Here. (push Arthur inside quickly and close the cell)

Arthur: (stands up, furious) What do you think you are doing?! 😡

Guard 1: (very apologetically) Forgive us, Sire. It was King's orders.

Arthur: Why did my father order you to lock me up in the dungeons?! I'm not strange to this punishment, but normally I know WHY I'm being punished.

Guard 1: This is no punishment, Sire. Your Majesty just doesn't want you to interfere in... some matters.

Guard 2: It will be just for a couple of hours, Sire. You don't have to worry.

Arthur: Interfere? Why would I... (pales and shouts) Merlin!

Meanwhile in the throne room.

Uther: Has the prince been brought to the dungeons.

Guard 3: Yes, Sire.

Uther: Perfect. Now bring the boy.

...

Finally we get back to the request list!

Arthur has to protect Merlin from his dad ☑︎

An he will continue to do it for the next parts because this shit is far from over!

What do you think is going to happen?

What was the hiding insult in Uther's words the Arthur catched?

Also, credits to my best friend Rosangela, who helped me with some dialogues and situations, no only in this part, but several ones. Love you so much! ❤️

[live-laugh-lenney]

plz can you write something where the boys tease Arthur TV because he’s so obsessed with you

(i have so many requests but I don’t wanna be annoying lol)

I love your writing!!

i made it holiday related again because i'm really feeling in that mood right now... hahaha.

arthur was enamoured.

he'd always thought yn was pretty and very beautiful and seeing her in a holiday scenario, where she was relaxed and enjoying herself, his infatuation had doubled... tripled.... and then quadrupled as the days of their holiday went on.

the way her striped bikini clung to her in the right spots, the way her hair was pulled back into the messiest bun upon her head to keep it from getting wet (to save having to wash it again because she gave it a wash the previous night, she claims), the way her sunglasses sat on her nose and protected her eyes from the bright light, the way her skin was so beautifully kissed by the rays of the sunshine and how she had practically tanned from the moment she stepped foot out in the open.

he tried to take his eyes from her as she floated in the pool whilst she sunbathed but, sometimes, she was all he wanted to look at.

"i'm not being funny but," george stands to his feet, the sun-lounger beneath him scraping against the floor of the patio area lining the pool of their villa, catching arthur's attention and he walked over in his direction and leant over the back of the lounger that the man was stretched out upon, "if your mouth opens any further, you'll choke on flies."

"shut up," arthur grumbles under his breath, feeling his cheeks turn a rosy red colour which he wasn't sure would be visible due to how red his face had gotten under the harsh croatian sunlight that soaked his skin all afternoon, embarrassment running through his body at how he had been caught staring at one of his best friend, "i thought you were asleep, anyway."

"what? so you could stare at her like a weirdo? no, i was entertained watching you try and hold back a boner," george snickers softly and arthur shuffled uncomfortably on the sun-lounger, "why don't you just say something to her? or at least, shag her and get it out of your system. this is almost unbearable to watch."

"because that's gross behaviour and i'm not that kind of man," arthur mumbles lowly, reaching for his phone that he had placed in the shade underneath his sun-lounger as a way to distract himself, "i'm not after a shag. she's my friend, she's our friend, and i don't want to ruin the dynamic between all of us. that's not fair."

"she'll soon get creeped out with your staring and that really will ruin the group dynamic," george teases and arthur shrugs off his hands from where they were placed on his shoulders, "she'll clock on soon, you might as well tell her."

"no," arthur hisses back, shaking his head before glancing down at his phone and unlocking it so he could divert his attention from the bikini-clad girl floating in a ring on the surface of the pool with her headphones on her head as she listened to music whilst soaking up the sun above, "how you speak about her when she can't hear you is gross sometimes."

"she knows i'm only joking," george holds his hands up in defence and walks towards the open patio doors of their villa as he was bored of lazing for the afternoon, leaving his towel to try on his lounger as he took his belongings from the table and held them tightly in his hands, "i'm going for a shower and then for a nap before anyone else grabs the bathroom."

-

"where's yn?"

"you mean to tell us you've had her surgically removed from your hip?" chris asks, in feigned shock, from where he was stretched out across the sofa in the room, "you're joking?"

"what?"

arthur rolls his eyes and ignores the laugh that came from arthur hill as he done up the buttons of the shirt hanging down his torso, a bold print decorating the cotton material that matched the colour of his shorts buttoned to his waist.

"if you must know, she's just finishing up getting ready in her room and she'll be out soon," arthur hill says, picking up the open can of lager that was set on the table beside her phone, taking a swig from the top before he placed it back down, "can you cope for a couple of minutes without her?"

"you guys suck," arthur grumbles and shakes his head, reaching into the fridge to grab himself a can of beer, cracking it open and taking a hefty swig of the golden liquid hidden behind the metal, "you make it sound like i'm some obsessed freak."

"you are," chris insists, standing to his feet and picking up his own can of his chosen beverage for the week from the coffee table that was a mere stretch from the sofa and arthur could only muster up throwing the middle finger in his friend's direction, "hey, that's not nice. i'm only telling the truth, arthur."

"if you keep taking the piss out of me in front of yn then she's going to start hating me for being a weirdo around her," arthur frowns and chris just snickers at him, "seriously. i'm not a weirdo. she's just-"

the sound of a door opening made him stop mid-sentence and he gave a pleading look to his two friends that wordlessly begged for them not to tease him in front of her. as footsteps were heard coming down the stairs, the three men busied themselves in putting on their shoes and grabbing their jackets so that they were ready to leave once everyone had come together in the lower level of the villa.

it felt like a schoolboy crush. and, of course, he was planning on telling her just how he felt about her... he just wasn't sure when or how he wanted to tell her. he wanted it to be perfect, romantic, not in the earshot of his friends who would, no doubt, tease him for being such a simp in the situation.

"you look beautiful," arthur compliments her as she brushes passed him to grab the denim jacket she had draped over the back of one of the dining table chairs the previous night, "ready for another night on the town?"

"i don't think i can keep up with you guys again," she laughs softly, slipping her arms into the denim sleeves and adjusting it so it was comfortable on her shoulders, "i was coming back early tonight, i've got a bit of a headache. think it's just from being in the sun all day."

"do you want to stay here tonight? the boys can go out without us?"

"us?"

her eyes soften as she looks at him, his eyes darting from her face to anywhere in the room, unwilling to make eye contact because he felt silly for assuming she'd want him to stay behind with her. and he could feel the eyes of arthur hill and chris staring into the back of his head, which he wished would stop, and he was certain they would snicker about the situation behind his back.

"i mean, someone should watch out for you, just in case."

"i think i'll be fine, arthur," she reaches for his arm and squeezes it softly and reassuringly, "i'm starving so it could be to do with that. i'll just play it by ear."

"what are we playing by ear?"

george makes himself known as he walks around the corner, dressed in a pair of chino shorts and a short-sleeved, button-down shirt that matched the same colour. sunglasses on his face, phone and wallet in his hand, socks on his feet that were ready to slip into his trainers.

"arthur's hoping to bring yn home tonight," chris jokes teasingly and arthur swings around on his heels, eyebrows furrowed on his browline and he really wanted the ground to swallow him whole, "i'm kidding. yn's not feeling a hundred percent so she might come back early. arthur offered to stay with her if she needed to come back here."

"oh, that's kind of him," george smiles, sending a wink to arthur that he was surprised yn had completely missed, "what a sweetheart he is."

"i'd do it for any of you," arthur insists - he wouldn't, unless they had asked him to, "can we go? i'm hungry."

"have we decided where we're going?"

-

"is everything okay?"

arthur's brought out of his daze by the sound of her voice, soft and sweet and angelic, the only voice he wanted to hear. he turns around from where he was sat on the stones on the beach, knees brought up to his chest as he leant back on his palms, looking up at her as she approached him.

"why are you down here by yourself?"

"just wanted a bit of quiet time to myself," he explains and she sits herself down beside her, making sure her dress stayed covering her modesty as she stretched her legs out, crossing her ankles and leaning back on her palms in a similar fashion to him, "you didn't have to come and check on me. we should be checking on you."

"my headache's gone now," she smiles, looking across the water and watching as the waves crashed against the shore, "i'm worried about you now."

"i'm okay," he nods, "just want to enjoy the serenity of the scenery. it's beautiful out here. you kind of take it for granted and miss it when you're back home."

silence swallows the two of them, except the atmosphere was full of all kinds of sounds; the chatter of passersby as they went on a look for their chosen restaurant for dinner, the waves crashing against the stones, the crunching of stones as people walked back up from the water... and, in the distance, they could hear the raucous laughter of chris and george and arthur hill as they joked amongst themselves.

"is it the others?"

"the others?"

"they've been teasing you a lot today," yn informs him and he sighs heavily, letting out a deep exhale before rolling his head back and looking to the sky, "i've heard it, arthur. i think it's sweet."

"the teasing?"

he feels confused and weird; what was sweet? surely, if she heard the teasing then she could piece things together...

"no, you muppet," she giggles softly and turns her head to look at him, "i'm not weirded out that you've been staring at me, you know? i, uh, i've kinda been doing the same, i guess."

he looks at her, for the first time since she sat down beside him, and he gulps back the lump in his throat.

"not at myself," she blurts out, "but, at-"

"at me?"

she nods shyly and he can't help but feel the flips in his stomach as he felts knots tighten and loosen low in his gut.

"you haven't heard them teasing me, have you? the last three days of being here, they've been non-stop laughing at me. they think it's funny," she laughs softly and shakes her head, "they practically forced me to come over here and tell you so-"

he stares at her and she can see his brown eyes from behind the lenses covering them up, and she sighs.

"i wanted to come over though," she adds almost instantly, "to see if you were okay and to stop their incessant jokes and pisstakes. they're only trying to help, i guess?"

"they're annoying," arthur grumbles lowly and she can only hum out in agreement, "but, i guess, they know us both too well. almost far too well, i think."

"you coming back up for dessert? i ordered you the same as me," she smiles, moving to stand to her feet, standing before him and holding out her hands for him to take, wiggling her fingers in an enticing way, "come on, you. we might as well face the music."

"what do we tell them?"

"nothing if we don't want to say," she smiles and he takes her hands, and she uses all her strength to pull him to his feet, their fingers entwining together, "or, i don't know, we could just... take things slow this week? figure stuff out?"

he nods softly.

"i like that idea," he grins, dropping one hand from her hold but making sure to keep a tight grip of her other, swinging between them as they made their way back up the beach and back to where their table was located at the front of their restaurant, "reckon they'll leave us alone now?"

"god only knows," yn laughs, "we can only hope." xx

[gd-dollopole]

Why I believe Arthur isn’t attracted to women and my not so deep analysis over it (this is my personal opinion, and a mess, so bear with me)

Hear me out.

Not only Arthur is a very constipated man over pretty much everything, doesn’t show or openly says what he feels, especially in the first two seasons, but he doesn’t even have friends, except those that he is supposed to have because he is a regent, and later a king. His father is even worse, thought him nothing if hatred and repression, so we can say he sucks at socialisation, and I may or may not be projecting here, but I know what it feels like to be out of your bubble and enter the world feeling completely out of yourself, which is why Arthur is attached to the hip with Merlin, and is he so enamoured, attracted, shocked with him during their first encounter.

Back to my point, he is socially awkward, but I don’t believe that is the reason behind why he acts the way he acts towards every single woman character in the TV show. (his own bloody wife included)

Arthur doesn’t like women, repertory A:

First kiss with Gwen. Lovely, I always smile when I see it, but why. Like, Arthur thought he was going through with his death, just received a token of affection that no one had ever dared give to him, felt appreciated, like a beaten kid who receives his first hug, and thought: “Okay, well, might kiss her too, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?” , dipped for a peck, and FLED RIGHT AFTER. His face showed no emotion, he basically just gave a shrug when he realised he and Gwen couldn’t be together and went on with his day. And honestly, if it wasn’t for the amazing soundtrack, I would just stare at the screen with a flat face during their first kiss. You can feel the difference between this scene and the one where Lancelot saves Gwen and tells her to run, and they kiss before they part, and THERE you can feel the longing, understand why there had to be a parting kiss. Arthur almost feels relieved that Uther won’t let him stay with Gwen after he survives, but whatever.

Repertory B:

Arthur, even if enchanted, stills asks Merlin for advices on “feelings” and “girrlllss”. This doesn’t need explaining.

Repertory C:

Men can be shy, obviously, even with women, but, as I cited above, Arthur has no idea how to socialise. His friends, hell, even his relationship with Morgana, wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for Merlin. So explain to me why Arthur doesn’t even look at Gwen until he has to, and goes around NOT CARING about women, unless Uther is the one throwing them at him, and then caves when a pretty man appears on the screen. I also believe this is the directors’ fault, who tried so hard to make the relationship between Gwen and Arthur real, that they just made a gay show, but Arthur, when he had more worrisome things to think about, he didn’t care about women, or girls, or courtship, in the slightest, until Elena gets in the picture and he has to think about marriage and a future with his queen, again. I firmly believe Arthur chose Gwen not because he loved her romantically, but because to him, she was the best choice amongst everyone else.

Repertory D:

The Knights of the Round Table. Arthur, a prince that throughout all three seasons has an hard time even speaking openly to Merlin without making fun of him, or to Gwen, suddenly fights his father over Lancelot (because he admired him quickly, and couldn’t understand that because of his sexuality, he felt very comfortable around a thoughtful man like him), drools over Percival the first time he meets him, probably thinking of how nice it could be to jump the giant like a tree, and has a love hate relationship with Gwaine, because Gwaine is everything Arthur envies. Free, open, and in a close relationship with Merlin, (a man) that Arthur forbids himself to have. (also, nice hair)

Repertory E:

Mithian. Arthur doesn’t spare a glance at a single woman in the show. He does it with Gwen (poorly) because he feels he needs to, and once again avoids marriage, and acts like a complete panic around Mithian in the entirety of the episode where she is introduced. He can’t take her compliment when he meets her the first time; he doesn’t realise that standing outside a woman’s chamber for that long can mean something else; he is affronted of having burped in front of her, not because he likes her and she is a woman, but because Arthur’s ego is too huge; this man has no clue over: “how to act around women”, because to him, women are people he isn’t attracted to. As simple as that. He finds Morgause irritating and not beautiful, like many others, because to him, she is just another very good warrior who has beaten his ass.

Repertory F:

Arthur doesn’t have sex with Gwen (oh, hot take). We never see them languidly stare at each other (unlike the eye fucking that happens between Merlin and Arthur. That’s not sexual tension that can be cut with a knife, it’s a wall of homosexuality where Arthur often bangs his head on) Yes, this show was very chaste, but definitely not intended for kids (see innuendos), so how could someone who should be close to Gwen, in any way possible, doesn’t recognise that his wife is bloody enchanted and she is trying to kill him? No, you don’t need to have sex with someone to understand that they want you dead and that they drastically changed their personality, but my brother in christ, this just proves me that Arthur was attracted to the idea of a peaceful kingdom, ruled together with an intelligent, fierce, and good woman by his side, rather than attracted, attracted to Gwen per se. The rest of the time he just followed Merlin around like a puppy. He married for love? I believe he married his best friend Gwen so that he didn’t have to go through the process of having kids. The heir had never been the problem. If it was for Arthur, he would have married Merlin the instant he met him in the market during the first episode.

Repertory G:

Do we see Arthur openly complimenting the women in the show? No. Also, because it’s not the point of the show. The point of the show is the homosexual relationship Arthur has with his serv—(he does it with Gwen and probably Mithian, because she is objectively beautiful, but I can’t remember other instances)

Last but not least:

Merlin.

Separately, Arthur, and here I’m adding Gwen, too, are both complex and well thought characters, lacking many things and contradicting themselves during the show, always because of how they were badly written in a lot of episodes. The Arwen scenes are lovely, but they don’t bring out anything. They don’t make you hope, giggle, despair, cry, because to me, there is nothing there to be tragic over. They just needed to fill a gap so that the people who didn’t like the idea of Merlin and Arthur together romantically would have something else to watch. Which is also the main ship of the show and it makes everything more hilarious, because they fucked it up so bad, LMAO.

The more you try not to make something gay, you just make it even gayer that what you had originally planned.

I had so many other points, but my ADHD said no. So if you want to add something else, feel free to do it!

[fallingforyouforeverr]

Hey do you think you could do a dating Arthur hill headcannon it’s all good if not hahah x

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐇𝐢𝐥𝐥

summary: read request above

authors note: omg anon, i am so sorry that it took me this long, i completely forgot that it was in my drafts oops. i don't really love this as much as the other ones bc it feels quite rushed but i just wanted to finally publish something yk so hopefully you still enjoy!

please consider checking out my masterlist

-> you're each other's biggest supporters. you help him with music and videos, and are backstage at every show screaming along to the lyrics. if you were also a musician, he would do the same for you, and he would somehow find a way to mention how talented you are in basically every conversation it's actually slightly annoying

-> he would always make sure to be equally as supportive of you though, and would celebrate each of your achievements, however minor it seems

-> arthur values your opinion more than anything else, so you are always the first to hear new video ideas or the lyrics of a song he has been working on

-> he's probably written several love songs about you that he plans never to release. he might show you a few, but most of them are private – just someplace to channel all the love he has for you

-> lisa (his mum) loves you. even before you met her, she felt like she knew you because of how much arthur talked about you.

-> his friends definitely tease you two a lot but they genuinely think your relationship is really sweet and they are all just happy that he found someone who was so clearly made for him

-> arthur would never dare admit it to anyone but you, but he is absolutely a simp for you. he would literally do anything you asked of him with no hesitation, even at his own expense

-> 100% a quality time person

-> you feature in his videos a lot. like all the time. he just wants to be around you as much as possible!

-> dates happen practically everyday, often without any sort of plan and you usually just wander the city together until you find somewhere interesting

-> one of arthur's favourite things to do with you is going to small indie concerts of bands you have never heard of before, more so for the vibes than the actual music

-> your camera roll is full of pictures and videos of him drunk, as you usually have to pick him up after he's been drinking. arthur becomes very clingy when drunk so you receiving a call from george at 2am asking you to pick them up while arthur whines in the background asking where you are has become a frequent occurrence

-> he can also be very clingy even when sober, and this is only amplified whenever he is tired, jealous, or just missing you

-> despite you assuring him of your love several times, jealousy isn't unusual for him as he often feels insecure – especially next to his more popular housemates, which can cause him to doubt your relationship. these feelings never last long tho and his bad mood is normally fixed just through a quick reminder of your love

-> when arthur is a clingy mood he will often just scoop you up without warning and carry you to the nearest comfortable surface to cuddle. he will then proceed to literally lay on top of you so you have no way of running away to whatever you were doing before, not that you mind of course

-> there's never a dull moment when you are with arthur. all of your time together is spent laughing until your cheeks hurt and you can't breathe or just basking in eachothers presence