#yeah percival got a little more intimate than usual in this one

[my-whumpy-little-heart]

Persistence - 8

No BTHB prompt for this part. Find the masterlist for this series here, or the previous part linked in the first line.

Tag list (dm or ask to be added or removed): @whump-tr0pes, @burtlederp, @castielamigos-whump-side-blog, @doitforthewhump, @shameless-whumper, @endless-whump, @theycomeinthrees, @faewhump

CW: creepy whumper, painful wound cleaning, mild gore for brief description of stitches, stockholm syndrome-y vibes (but the whumpee is just delirious, not attached), pet whump mention (again, not actually)

“You’re gonna make such a good mage for me, aren’t you? Just for me, that’s right…”

Somewhere just beneath the surface Floyd desperately wanted to shake his head no no no a thousand times over, but he settled for dry heaving onto the floor next to him before blacking out.

Floyd opened his eyes and everything set in slowly. Arms pressed against him and the cuts all along his body, holding him against someone’s chest. The sharp haze of pain clouded his senses, the world a buzz of noise and color around him.

Eventually he felt the ground rise up to meet his back once again, and he must have passed out again. When he woke, he was being moved around from behind.

“Wha… what’re you doin’...?” Everything was still bleary, but it looked like there was another person in the room standing right in front of him.

“Trying to help you,” he recognized Percival’s voice in his ear, “Now sit up before I drag you by your hair.”

Drowsily, Floyd rolled over and started slowly pushing himself up, but lethargy still clung to his autonomy. He slumped back to the ground, trying to peel his eyes open long enough to see the world spin around him, but it was too little too late. Fingers reached and twisted in his hair, and sharp sparks of pain jolted him to his senses.

The grip tightened and shoved him into a sitting position, Percival’s hands coming around to grab Floyd’s upper arms, an iron grasp pulling him to sit upright.

He blinked in surprise, still dazed by the sudden movement, and noticed that there really was a second person in the room. Narrow, tired eyes looked back at him, glancing before--He? She? He really couldn’t tell--turned back to the table in the corner of the room. His stomach churned at the memory of being strapped to that same table not even a day ago, and he leaned unwittingly back into his captor’s chest.

“Hey, hey, none of that now. Casey’s gonna stitch up those cuts, and you’re going to hold still for them so they don’t mess anything up,” Percival chided, shifting him closer as Floyd tried harder to pull away.

“Nnh- I… what do you mean they? There’s only one pers’n here…” he muttered, finally stilling when he realized he was far too weak to get away.

“Yes. Casey is one person, they go by they, and it’s in your best interest to respect that, Benedict,” he hissed.

“Don’t bother,” came a bored voice above, slurred and careless as they turned away from the table with supplies in hand, “it’s not like your pet’s gonna understand the fine intricacies of human decency.” Casey chuckled quietly to themself as Percival’s face twisted.

“Hey, this one’s not a pet. He’s just a pet project I’ve taken, ah, special interest in.” He pulled a hand through Floyd’s hair as he said it, pulling back on greasy red curls so the boy looked up with a shiver.

Casey stood over him, a needle with some sort of thread in one hand and a bottle of ale in the other. They bent down and he eyed the bottle warily, thirst threatening to overtake him. Alcohol wouldn’t do much to rehydrate him, but to have any liquid at all would be a blessing.

“See that, darling? I saved some ale just for you.”

“Yeah, whatever. Hold it still; it’s not gonna like this,” they sighed, uncorking the ale and kneeling up to get a better look at Floyd’s body. He shivered, feeling bare under their critical gaze. He cringed when they peeled his pants back from dried blood and cuts, rolling them up to have better access.

They reached back for the ale as Percival held him carefully still, and only when it lowered towards his legs did he realize it wasn’t to drink. Casey tipped the bottle and translucent red streaks poured over his legs, mixing with darker, viscous fluid and sliding neatly into slices all the way down to the deep wounds in his heels.

It was a small, cool pressure like the saltwater, but then it was hot and steaming and sharp and overwhelming. He could feel every single pinprick of pain as alcohol flared and raged, as opposed to the hazy, deafening torment of salt. His muscles locked up at the awful sensation, shivering as he clenched his jaw and tried to swallow down a cry. The breathy whimper that came out made him wish he’d just screamed instead.

Floyd gasped deep, hitching breaths when it finally faded into a dull thrum up and down his leg. It was done, and he took his time to calm down before the stitching started. He could make it through this, and maybe mercifully pass out once it was over.

Casey’s hands wrapped around his ankles, and Percival’s around his shoulders, and he’d been spun around before he could protest. His back now faced out, and that left him staring forward into his captor. Agitated cuts on his legs pressed into the floor under him, but he couldn’t shift before he felt the unmistakable sensation of more liquid rolling down his injured back.

Before Floyd could even think, his hands were fisted in Percival’s shirt, head pressed to his chest, and eyes screwed shut as ale seeped quickly into the deepest wounds. This time he let himself shout when it sank in, writhing against the pain. Percival’s chest shook with laughter he couldn’t hear. His arms circled around Floyd’s back in an awful mockery of a hug, hands skimming over cuts and fingers with long, cracked nails pressing cruelly into them. He yelped and shivered every time, feeling them slip under his skin where he never should have been able to feel.

“You do know there’s no point in me cleaning its cuts if you just stick your dirty fingers right back in them afterwards, right?” Casey grumbled, busying themselves with threading the needle. Percival laughed again and moved his hands back up to massage at Floyd’s shoulders.

“Let up, Casey,” he clicked his silver tongue, waving them off, “didn’t you see him? The first hint of pain and he came to me to support him. I think it’s sweet.”

Floyd shivered uncomfortably, flushed with embarrassment and anger. Of course he used Percival to support himself; that freak was the one holding him in the first place. He didn’t have another option.

“...wish it wasn’t you,” he muttered, too scared to confront his captor with anything else he was thinking.

“Oh, Benedict, you poor thing,” Percival pouted maliciously, cupping Floyd’s chin in his hands and tilting it up to look him in the eyes. “There’s nobody else here who would even bother to hold you while you cry. Is seeing my face really such a price to pay?”

He averted his eyes in a silent concession.

“Then why didn’t you just say so in the first place?!” he exclaimed, the shift in his tone just startling enough to drag Floyd’s gaze back up to him. “I can do that for you, darling.”

Percival’s eyes flashed with hot, swirling magenta tones before he faded from vision. He… he turned invisible. That wasn’t what Floyd wanted at all.

“...alright, I’m just gonna start on the stitches so this doesn’t take forever. Hold it still,” they sighed, placing a light hand over one of the wider cuts and positioning the readied needle. Percival pushed his captive back against his chest, looping arms under his shoulders and nodded.

“Go on,” he gestured.

Face buried in his captor’s chest, he struggled to draw deep breaths before the needle slid in, tugging through the corner of a slice. It felt… wrong. It didn’t hurt so much as it tingled, sending his stomach fluttering at the sensation. He held his breath as the next stitch slipped through, slick now with his own blood, pulling sickeningly at skin as the last one tightened further.

Stitches painted a canvas across his back, moving on to another when they closed the first wound. Slowly, Floyd felt himself falling out. His tense muscles went limp, only jumping at occasional deep pricks of the needle, and he closed his eyes. If he imagined hard enough, he could almost pretend the sturdy frame he was curled up against wasn’t his captor, but Ray. The long strings of hair that tickled the back of his neck were Ray’s dark curls, and the sharp scent left on his shirt wasn’t vinegar, but the salty, sandy smell of everything Ray wore.

Slowly, his hands loosened from fists in Ray’s shirt, and wrapped around his midsection in an embrace that the recipient leaned eagerly into. He could hardly feel the needle sliding through his skin anymore, and focused more and more on the comfort of his captain, holding him close after this terrifying nightmare was over. Kind, and warm, and soothing, like a father to his son…

“Alright, that’s it. I could get the ones on its legs, but they’re small and I’m bored,” Casey said, pulling Floyd back to reality. He blinked, realizing that the man he was up against was visible once again and the illusion shattered. He had been hugging Percival,and burying himself in that awful vinegar scent, and feeling his arms around him. At the smug look on his tormentor’s face, Floyd let go of him as quickly as possible and scrambled as far away as his sluggish limbs could get him. He’d just willingly hugged the man who kidnapped and fucking tortured him, and imagined he was someone he admired.

Anger flashed in Percival’s eyes, and he flew forward kneeling right over Floyd and catching his shoulders to keep him from moving any further.

“Don’t. Tear. Your. Stitches.” he seethed. “Casey worked very hard to make sure you don’t bleed out or get very, very sick aside from what I’m going to do to you. So, if you ruined their work this quickly after getting it done, I’d be loath to let you get away without severe punishment.”

He left the threat hanging in the air, but Floyd nodded quickly, face still flaming. He didn’t need examples. He already had them bruised, cut, chafed, and slowly scarring across his body. He didn’t need any more. Percival smiled, dismissing Casey before he spoke.

“Perfect. How do you feel about a meal, then?”

Next part

[wtfisgoingonanymore]

Birthdays In Camelot

Sooooooooo three of my very good and very dear friends had their birthday and I wanted to do something for them. I know this isn’t much, but 1. I am dead inside and school continues to kill me, and 2. …yeah. I’m dead inside. I just wanted to dedicate a little something to you three amazing beautiful perfect angels because you guys are some of the best people ever and you’re always so kind and nice to me. I wanted to return the favor somehow someway. I probablyyyy should’ve made three separate ones for each of you, but I have multiple papers to finish up for next week. I’ll try and do better next time, but for now this is all I have.

So!!! in the spirit of @gayfirebender @thatone-nerdygirl and @junemo10 , this is for you.

Birthdays:

Birthdays are a big thing for Merlin. When he was in Ealdor, he and his mother didn’t really have enough money to celebrate in a big way.

It was usually a slightly better porridge or a new tunic if they were REALLY lucky.

So when Merlin started earning his wages, he immediately looked for the best present he could ever get his mother and then he one upped it the next year

It started out with a delicious meal stolen from the royal cook herself and worked it’s way up to a dress that looked simple enough for a peasant but felt like it was made for a queen

Having ties to Arthur sure helped that out

SO! because of Merlin’s love for birthdays, you know he goes all out for all his friends

It makes Percival so. soft. whenever Merlin skips to him on his birthday and gives him a present

His favorite, by far, is when Merlin gave him an amazing little tree that he takes care off very well. (It’s a magical bonzai.)

Elyan is excited for his birthday cause Merlin gave him the best gifts. His favorite is definitely the new armor design that Merlin drew up based on different knights from different kingdoms. Elyan made it and uses it for himself and himself only.

Leon was very surprised to get a gift from Merlin. It was long long ago when Arthur was still prince and they barely spoke at all.

He was surprised to catch him in his room- setting down a basket full of large bottles.

Merlin was a blushing embarrassed mess at being caught. He and Leon had never had a proper conversation since before that.

He stuttered his way to explain that he knew Leon was constantly aching from past battle wounds, so he made large batches of Gaius’ special salves and potions for Leon to use. That is objectively the best gift Merlin ever got for him because of the memory that came with it.

However, Merlin setting him up on a date with George will soon be the best one yet.

Gwen is a pouty baby because “Merlin! You didn’t have to get me anything! I’m already happy with our friendship.”

She accepts the gifts anyway. Her favorite is definitely the specially made and designed family seal that is dedicated to her father. She cried so much and keeps it with her all the time

Gwaine. Ohhhhh Gwaine. His gifts started out fun, you know? A pint of mead, Finally being able to take Merlin out for a pint, A fully paid night of drinking. Those sort of stuff

But then Merlin goes and starts writing him all these long ass letters. All these letters that talk about how much Merlin appreciates him and how great of a person he is

And Gwaine never fails to ugly cry on those letters. He keeps them all in a special box- it remains his most prized possession.

Lancelot counted himself lucky. With Magic now an available option, Merlin gave Lancelot the best of the best presents from day one of their friendship.

His absolute favorite present, however, is the magichand made knight’s armor, outfit, and sword that Merlin made for him after becoming a knight. It was enchanted too because obviously

Gaius, like Lancelot, got some of the best gifts ever with the help of magic.

Merlin gave him tons of very exotic and new herbs and plants to work with. He’d summon them from a land far away just for Gaius and then plant them somewhere, so he’d have more.

But the best one by far is the new equipment Merlin got for him. Each and everyone had words painted or etched onto it: “Best Father Figure” “Best Physcian” “Best Mentor”. It was nice little reminders that touched Gaius’ heart constantly

Before Morgana left, Merlin’s gift to her were not at all the exquisite gifts that she normally got. No, it was much much better.

Merlin always gave her a peasant’s dress and snuck her out to explore the lower town with him. They’d buy little random trinkets and food and then go out to play and eat in a forest clearing far away from the tyranny and the hate and the duties of royalty.

She didn’t realize until later on that those were the best presents because Merlin always took her to a place where magic was most alive and beautiful and calming and thriving.

Arthur’s birthday was always a tricky one for Merlin. This was his other half and the man he was kinda a little bit very in love with- it had to be perfect.

But in the end, it didn’t really take much thinking at all. This was his other half and the man he was very much in love after all.

Arthur would never be able to decide what his favorite gift from Merlin was. Anything that man gave him, he absolutely loved with all his heart

He didn’t know if it was the refurbished painting of his mother or the tiny farm that was set up for the both of them when they needed a break or maybe all the necklaces and letters and bracelets and tunics Merlin crafted especially for him.

He does know which one he takes especially good care of- even more so than his farm and painting. The most precious gift Merlin has ever given him: His magical heart.

And so obviously, Merlin had to have the best birthday of them all. While everyone got him nice gifts too, they had to give him the best one after a very stressful and bumpy magic and love revealing year.

Normally, it would’ve been a feast. Arthur knew that was definitely not the case. This was Merlin- he wanted it small and intimate.

They set up the nice round table dinner with just their group of friends.

Merlin was already crying when they brought them there.

After eating, they’d all give their gifts to him one by one. Just seeing his friends line up made Merlin cry with appreciation again. Arthur made him sit on the throne for this one.

Percival grinned wide as he gave Merlin pots of the most beautiful flowers and herbs that would typically be needed in potion making.

Elyan was practically bouncing off the walls as he presented a staff he made alongside the druids.

Gwen had to shove Elyan out of the way to present the very special hand made outfits she made for him- fit for royalty.

Leon smiled and chuckled as he gave him the exact same potions and salves Merlin gave to him that first time because now he knew that Merlin needed it too.

Gwaine smirked and stuck his tongue out as he went out and brought back Hunith with him. While they were greeting each other, he slipped his very long and more tear-inducing letter with the rest of Merlin’s gift.

Gaius smiled as he gave Merlin a key. A key to his new magical workshop that Gaius and his very bad back worked on. Later on, Merlin would cry in there as he read all the labels Gaius put everywhere: “Best Son” “Best Warlock” “Best Student” “My Best Merlin.”

Arthur was nervous ash he walked up to Merlin. He tried to speak three times before sighing in defeat. He handed him a scroll that officially declared the magic ban lifted.

Merlin was sobbing at that point. He didn’t know how it could get any better really.

Except that Morgana burst in with a gust of wind in a true dramatic fashion.

Everyone was on defense immediately as they turned to face her.

They all let out different gasps and choked sobs when they were not faced with a wild haired all black outfit Morgana, but with a Morgana in a peasant dress, a basket in hand full of knickknacks and food, and tears in her eyes.

Later on in the night when Merlin slipped into Arthur’s arms, he got his final greatest present.

Ygraine’s ring and four words.

“Will you marry me?”

[stronglyobsessed]

A one sentence prompt, if you choose to use it... "Did you really think I wouldn't find out?" I'm open to any of the ships, but Perciwin for shits and giggles if you really want a challenge.

Thank you so much! Some perciwin for you, darling <3

---

“Eggsy,” Percival whispered softly. His breath was warm, a soft breeze against his ear. Eggsy inclined into the lips, hoping he’d indulge in a soft kiss, and stretched out.

“Hey babe.” Eggsy yawned. He wasn’t sure what time it was. He had tried to wait up, knowing Percival was due home from his mission sometime after nine that night, and ended up knocked out on the couch.

A debrief with Arthur and Merlin could take a few hours, give or take, depending on the success of the assignment. Last he checked with Merlin all was well, and Eggsy could expect Percival back roughly around midnight.

“Mmm,” Percival hummed. His lips never touched Eggsy, yet he was still intimately close, but laid a hand to Eggsy’s chest and trailed down.

Eggsy smiled sleepy, keeping his eyes closed because it was more fun, and let out something close to a purr on an exhale.

“Frisky,” he whispered delightfully, cock began to fill in response. “Thought you’d want to sleep.”

They usually only had the post-mission ‘you survived’ sex the next day, all dependent on how they felt. And it seemed like his older lover was feeling rather good. All things considered. A week in the Sahara desert usually sapped Eggsy to no end, but it seemed his boyfriend had better stamina than Eggsy. A sore thought, since he was twenty eight and all.

“Oh...it seems frisky alright.” Eggsy giggled. Guess it were going to be a kinky night, then.

“Babe,” he moaned when Percival’s touch left him, wanting more. “Gonna tie me up?”

Percival made a noise in the back of his throat, something that sounded close to a growl, that sent the blood rushing to Eggsy’s dick, filling it further.

“I might, but it will not be for fun.” Suddenly a weight was lifted off of his lap, leaving the once warm spot cool and unwelcome. An unpleasant meow filled the room and Eggsy’s eyes snapped open. “So,” Percival started, holding the orange tabby kitten to his chest. “Who’s the new house guest?”

Eggsy gulped. Percival’s face was blank, completely free of any emotion, which meant he was fucking pissed.

“I...uh...” Eggsy stammered while he fumbled to sit up, damn near falling off the couch as he did, and watched his boyfriend.

Charlie seemed to like Percival. He licked his chin, rubbing it a bit and purred so damn loud you could likely hear him down the street.

“Charlie likes you,” Eggsy observed, unthinkingly. Which was the wrong thing to say, for damn sure, as Percival’s eyes blazed.

Yet he didn’t bring any harm to the small feline, in fact loved on it as if it were already part of the family.

“How long?” Percival inquired, scratching the underside of Charlie’s chin with a forefinger. “Aren’t you sweet,” he cooed.

“Two weeks,” Eggsy admitted.

“Pardon me?” That was Percival’s way of saying ‘what the fuck’ in the most polite way ever. “You’ve had this animal in our home, for two weeks?” Eggsy nodded. “I was only gone for a week,” Percival reminded him, his voice rose just above speaking level.

Oh fuck. Eggsy wouldn’t be allowed to come for a month, he just knew it.

“Hid him in Daisy’s room.” The guest bed was set up for sleepovers with Daisy. “Litter and everything.”

“Hmm,” Percival hummed, taking a seat beside Eggsy, and allowed Charlie to crawl around his lap. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out?” Percival wondered, dangling a few digits as Charlie pounced and jumped to attack them.

He could tell it irritated Percival he hadn’t noticed before.

“No,” Eggsy admitted. “Was gonna tell you when you came home, but we sorta kipped on the sofa.”

Percival gave him a bland, yet patient, gaze. “We talked about this, Eggsy. I said three months before I got another kitten. Three months is what I need to properly grieve the death of Henry, and Patrick before him.”

Eggsy nodded. “But were just three weeks under that, yeah? And he was all alone!” He defended. “Found him in a wet, sodden box on my run one morning. Was gonna hide him until three months was up.” He respected Percival’s need for time, but he weren’t leaving that poor, dirty and thin little kitten to die.

“Such a soft heart,” Percival allowed, running his palm along Charlie’s back. The kitten circled his left thigh twice and settled in a small, furry ball and fell asleep. “He is charming,” he admitted.

“I’m sorry,” Eggsy whispered.

“I know.”

“Don’t be mad.”

Percival sighed. “I’m not mad, Eggsy. Your intentions were good, always are.”

Eggsy grinned as Percival scooped him close for a soft, tender proper welcome home kiss, and tucked him to his side. 

A few moments passed as they watched Charlie sleep, exchanging a few delicate kisses, nuzzling cheeks and provided cozy touches, when Eggsy finally said, “I ain’t coming for a month, huh?”

“Correct.”

Eggsy groaned but figured there were worse punishments. Besides, Percival loved Charlie; it had been the right call.