#Arthur is totally aware of what he wants

[imagine-to-be-a-pike]

Why did we make Merlin gay as a fandom? We know you guys are stupidly obsessed bi x gay but Merlin literally showed more interest in women than Arthur..Also "Arthur would be so inexperienced with men". Shut up, hes knight, they're all gay. Arthur was perfectly aware of himself, He stared at every guy , HE DEFENDED HIMSELF AGAINST EVERY WOMAN AROUND HIM

Like cmon, Merlin fandom, use your brain sometime

I wouldn't mind it if making Merlin gay didn't often end up feminizing him or make him UwU soft

[pathologicalreid]

hi!!! totally up to you if you want to write it (it maybe too self indulgent ahhhhh). but i was think of bau!reader (or bau!adjacent) who has known spencer for forever and has watched him "glow up"/become more confident and is now dating him, but is now more self-conscious that he will realize that he is totally out of her league since women are now hitting on him all the time and he is able to basically flip men in the field. something like that if you get the vibe? just a girlfriend who is worried her boyfriend will outgrow her and is scared they'll breakup. feel free to ignore! love your work sm!!!

a league of your own | S.R.

as your boyfriend seemingly evolves, you grow increasingly aware of the feeling of being left behind

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: flangst (heavy on the fluff, more like internalized angst) content warnings: in a bar but neither spencer nor reader are drinking, follows the events of 14x12 "hamelin", discusses the pronunciation of asmr word count: 1.4k a/n: self conscious reader is so important to me. this is for everyone who has a hard time naming their feelings. thank you for requesting!!

“He flipped him over the table?” You asked, raising your eyebrows as you looked up at Tara, who was talking about your boyfriend’s maneuvering of Arthur Brodie in the field. In passing, you had heard about the mark left on the suspect’s forehead, but you hadn’t heard the story of how he had gotten it – until now.

Bringing her cup to her lips, Tara nodded at you, her expression clarifying that it was as impressive as it sounded. You sighed at the newest addition to Spencer’s ever-evolving personality, it was hard not to think of them as grievances against you, but that’s what it felt like.

You looked over your shoulder to the bar, trying to scope out where he had disappeared to before you spotted a familiar mess of brown curls. From where you were standing, you could see him holding two drinks in his hands, but it wasn’t until he shifted his stance that you saw the girl that he was speaking with. “And that’s three,” Luke observed, shaking his head in disbelief as he watched the same scene as you.

Emily asked what he was talking about, but you tuned them out as you watched the interaction. You already knew this was the third woman to hit on him since the team entered the bar thirty minutes ago.

There was no mistaking it, your boyfriend was easy on the eyes, and you weren’t naïve enough to try to deny that fact. Still, you were having a hard time adjusting to seeing him garner exponentially more attention from people at the bar. “You better go get your man, or she might steal him away from you,” Luke taunted, nodding his head in the direction of the bar.

“What?” Your head snapped back in the direction of the bar, eyes wide as you peered across the bar where Spencer was talking animatedly to the blonde in front of him before he looked behind himself and gestured to you, prompting you to wave timidly at the both of them.

The girl sneered in your direction before spinning on her heel and trudging away, freeing your boyfriend to return to you at the table. “They didn’t have any limes, so they put a lemon in your Shirley Temple,” Spencer said apologetically, dropping a kiss on the part of your hair as he set the glass in front of you.

Shaking your head, you smiled up at him, “That’s fine, thank you.” You told him, placing your hand on the glass and spinning it to better access the straw.

If he noticed anything odd, he didn’t comment on it, instead deciding to contribute to Tara and Rossi’s conversation on ASMR.

As the team continued to chat around you, you just continued spinning your glass on the oak table, becoming more and more conscious of the way your thighs stuck to the leather booth. Your eyes only flicked up when you noticed people staring at you, “What?” You asked, heart racing as you had been caught daydreaming.

The five remaining members of your team at the table were all looking at you with similar curious looks, “Rossi’s headed out. He was just saying goodbye,” Penelope said, reaching across the table and awkwardly patting your hand.

“Oh,” you responded meekly, “Have a good night. Tell Krystall I said hi.” You shifted in your seat, the sound of your legs unsticking from the seat seemingly amplified tenfold in your self-conscious state.

As Dave made his way out, Spencer gestured for you to move over so he could sit next to you. Tara got up to get in line for the restroom and Luke and Garcia weaseled their way into one of their patented bickering matches, you nearly jumped when you felt Spencer’s hand settle on your thigh. “Alright,” he muttered, turning his head to you, “What’s up with you tonight?”

Frowning, you looked up at Spencer, brown eyes studying your face as he hunted for even the slightest hint of what had gotten into you. The only problem was you didn’t have a name for it yourself. It could be perceived as jealousy, but you weren’t concerned with anyone actually taking Spencer’s attention away from you, you were just feeling feelings. Unnamable feelings.

You brought your glass closer to you, the condensation being a welcome relief on your warm skin, pinching the straw as you took a sip of your drink. “Nothing’s up,” you said, stirring the lemon wedge around in your glass.

“Are you sure? You look flushed,” he said, pursing his lips thoughtfully before he gently pushed his water in your direction.

Brushing off his concern, you turned your attention to watching Luke and Garcia in an animated discussion on how to pronounce ASMR – Penelope insisted she was right, and Luke didn’t necessarily care either way. You only moved your gaze when the blonde from earlier passed by again, dragging her palm over Spencer’s shoulder, causing him to lean into you.

Flustered, you took a long sip of your drink before setting it back down, “Can we go?” You asked Spencer, pressing your lips together in a thin line as you looked at him expectantly.

As he began to put puzzle pieces together, he nodded, standing up and gathering your glasses to set them on the bar. You said your goodbyes before leading the way out and flipping Luke off as he called out something about protection, something that would have previously left Spencer embarrassed and stammering, but now made him chuckle as he held the door open for you.

Part of you was grateful for this sort of evolution in Spencer, he was, after all, more confident in every aspect of his life. Now waiting for the metro, you looked at him, longer hair, his work shirt unbuttoned at the top and pushed up to his elbows. The light breeze in the tunnel moved his hair as he crossed his arms in front of his chest, “Are you alright, love?”

Your shoulders drooped helplessly at the pet name, “You shoved a guy on a table?”

His face fell, “Is that what this is about? Me using force against a suspect?”

Quickly, you shook your head, “No, no. He pushed Tara, it’s not that at all,” you scrambled to reassure him, knowing he was afraid that his time in federal prison had made him a violent person. “It’s just… you shoved a guy onto a picnic table and you’re getting hit on by people in bars and you’re dressing differently and I’m just… me.” You hold your hands out as if you’re on display, looking down at the sundress you had thrown on and the sneakers you wore for comfort instead of style.

“Are you jealous that I’m getting attention from other people?” He asked, “Because I’ve never encouraged anyone.” That was true, last week a deputy sheriff had made a move on your boyfriend, and the only thing he had gotten in return was an earful on how you had made the deduction that eventually solved the case.

Bowing your head, you regretted ever saying anything in the first place, “No,” you groaned, “What’s that term for someone who can’t name their emotions? That’s me. Right now. At this moment.”

Spencer chuckled at your frustration, “It’s called alexithymia, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I’ve watched you change in front of my very own eyes in the last year, and I guess I’m just feeling left behind,” you admitted. “You’re a changed person and there’s nothing different about me.”

He tilted his head to the side curiously, “Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” you said desperately, hoping to get to the bottom of your conflicting emotions.

“Did you love me before?”

You froze, looking up at him, “Of course.”

He raised his eyebrows, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “And you love me now?”

Nodding, you stepped closer to him, “Very much so.”

“Then there’s nothing else I could possibly ask of you,” he told you, smiling as you blushed. “You don’t need to change in time with me, and – since we’re being honest – I’ve always felt like I’m the one lagging behind you. So, maybe I’ve just been playing catch-up.”

You frowned, moving even closer to him as the platform grew crowded, “Well, now I feel ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous,” he murmured, “Just human,” Spencer amended.

[lucy-literates]

Helloooo my favourite Arthur writer. In honour of the charity football match, here’s another request 😉

Arthur’s girlfriend comes home and as she opens the door she narrowly avoids getting hit in the face with a football. She finds Charles and Arthur playing with the ball INSIDE the house, because the charity football match is coming up and Charles has decided he is the expert and will train his little brother so that he doesn’t “disgrace the Leclerc name on the football pitch”. After the ball nearly hits Arthur’s helmet, a trophy and her for the third time she grabs the ball and demands they all go outside as she is taking over said training. Basically she runs rings around them and Arthur is in awe that he wasn’t aware how good she is & Charles tells him that he should just marry her and then she can take his place on the pitch as that’s the only way to keep the Leclerc football talent legacy alive…

Basically just the Leclerc brothers being the loveable dumbasses they are pls 🥺🩵

The Leclerc Legacy

A/N: I loved this, it is so cute. They are adorable dumbasses, and I think I managed to capture that. It is a little bit on the shorter side, but I think it works. Enjoy and, as always, my inbox is open :)

The moment you opened the front door, a blur of white and black whizzed past your face.

You blinked.

The football hit the hallway wall with a loud thud, knocking a picture frame crooked. A helmet tumbled off a side table. Somewhere in the distance, something that sounded suspiciously like a trophy hit the floor.

“WHAT—”

“C’est pas possible—Arthur, you were supposed to catch that!” came Charles’ unmistakable voice, thick with laughter and a total lack of remorse.

You stepped fully into the flat and stared.

There, in the middle of your living room, were Charles and Arthur — mid-football match. Inside. In socks. Arthur was still in half his Ferrari gear, helmet forgotten on a chair, and Charles was shirtless, like that somehow gave him the upper hand.

“I live here,” you said, holding the door behind you. “You do realize that, right?”

Arthur gave you a sheepish grin. “Hi, baby.”

“She almost got hit in the face, idiot,” Charles said, then turned to you. “You okay? That pass was meant to be low, but your boyfriend’s got the reaction speed of a baguette.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did it ever occur to you both that maybe — just maybe — playing football inside the house isn’t the best idea?”

Arthur scratched the back of his neck. “Char said I need training before the charity match. Apparently I’ll ‘disgrace the Leclerc name’ if I don’t improve.”

“He will,” Charles said, proudly. “So I offered to help. Big brother duties.”

“You just wanted an excuse to show off,” you muttered, ducking as the ball flew past your head again, this time knocking over Arthur’s helmet.

“Okay, that’s it.” You snatched the ball mid-roll before it could hit the wine rack. “Outside. Now.”

Charles frowned. “What? Why?”

“Because I’m taking over training before you destroy my apartment and Arthur’s confidence.”

Arthur laughed. “You play football now?”

You gave him a look. “Now? Honey, I was captain of my school team. Striker. National semis. Sit down.”

Arthur’s eyes widened.

Charles grinned, intrigued. “Alright then, let’s go. Prove it.”

Fifteen minutes later, the three of you were out on the nearest patch of grass. The moment the ball hit your foot, everything changed. You darted between the brothers like it was second nature — fast, fluid, composed. You nutmegged Arthur, spun past Charles, flicked the ball into the air, and volleyed it right between two trees that had become makeshift goals.

Silence.

Arthur blinked. “What just happened.”

Charles stared at you. “We are so screwed.”

You smirked, brushing hair from your face. “Any other questions?”

“No,” Charles muttered, grabbing the ball and handing it to Arthur. “You know what? You should just marry her and let her take your spot on the pitch. It’s the only way the Leclerc football legacy survives.”

Arthur was still watching you like you’d just discovered fire. “Where have you been hiding this?”

You leaned in close, grinning. “Wouldn’t want to destroy your ego too early in the relationship.”

Charles groaned. “Too late.”

Arthur grabbed your hand, looking borderline smitten. “Seriously. You’re amazing.”

“I know,” you said, tossing the ball back to him. “Now show me what you’ve got, Leclerc. You’ve got a legacy to uphold — and I’m not saving your ass in front of thousands unless you earn it.”

Charles clapped dramatically. “Oooh, she’s ruthless. I love her.”

Arthur just smiled, unable to take his eyes off you. “Yeah. Me too.”

Would you like a follow-up with post-match fluff, like Arthur being all cuddly and overwhelmed that his girlfriend is the coolest human alive?

Part 2

[livelaughleclerc]

Checkmate - AL50

Pairing: Arthur Leclerc x fem!reader

Summary: Arthur decides to teach you chess, little did he know his brother would get involved… cheating and dramatics ensue because we love a dramatic Leclerc 😉

Warnings: language

A/N: this is my first full fic I’m posting on here. I kinda love it and my mate told me it has everything I adore about Arthur in it, so apparently this is my love letter to him. I hope it has all your favourite things too and makes you smile 🩵 the “little booty ham sandwich” nickname is from a book called Honestly I’m Totally Faking It, which is amazing and you should definitely read. Comments give me life, even if it’s just an emoji. Thanks for reading! 😘

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

“Ok so the castle can move up and down and sideways…” said Arthur, fingers playing gently with the wooden piece in his hand.

“Castle? Original.”

“Well it’s called “tour” in French,” said Arthur, his accent becoming more pronounced, “but I don’t know how it is in English…”

“Castle it is,” you said grinning at him as he put the piece back on the board and picked up the next one.

A few weeks ago you had mentioned that you wished you knew how to play chess and Arthur had excitedly told you he would teach you. “Do not go to my brother, I am better. I will teach you,” he had said proudly. Today you didn’t have any plans, except your daily walk to your favourite coffee shop where Arthur insisted on buying your coffee and walking back holding your hand the whole way. When you got back, settled comfortably on the sofa, coffee in hand taking small sips with a sigh, Arthur had pulled out his chess board and announced it was time. For someone who was ridiculously competitive, he was very patient in his explanations, answering all your questions and telling you they weren’t stupid. He even set up little scenarios and walked you through them - how to checkmate his king, how to move your king out of checkmate and reminding you that pawns can only take pieces diagonally. He set up a final scenario on the board, placing the pieces carefully before looking up at you expectantly. “Ok so if I move my queen here, what would you do?” he asked, pointing at the dark wooden piece.

You looked at the board, frowning in concentration, as you tried to work out all the plays in your head. “What would I do? Um, this…” you said smiling as you leaned across the board to place a kiss on his soft lips. You pulled away, noting the blush spreading across his face. You had been together for a year now but you loved that you still had this effect on him. Sometimes you felt awkwardly subconscious in his world, filled with rich, beautiful people whilst you were more comfortable in jeans and hoodies but moments like this reminded you that what you and Arthur had was special.

“Yeah, that works,” Arthur mumbled, running his hand through his hair as he tried to regain his composure. He cleared his throat. “So you want to try a game, no pressure?”

Arthur began setting up the board ready as your phone lit up beside you. It was Charles.

“How is the chess going? Has he thrown the board yet?” You smiled to yourself, well aware of the brothers’ competitiveness, especially after Charles had proudly shown you his box of broken controllers from where Arthur or Pierre had beaten him (“the games never got finished because of the controllers so technically I didn’t lose…”).

“Your brother is being extremely sweet and patient. We are just about to play our first game!”

“Want some help? ;) take photos of the board and I’ll tell you where to move, and if I don’t know I’ll ask a bot. You will win and he will lose his mind haha.”

You looked up from your phone as Arthur was putting the last piece in place, trying to hide the shit-eating grin lighting up your face.

“Sure, why not?!” you messaged back before placing your phone back down and giving your boyfriend your full attention.

“Ok, white goes first,” he said, smiling encouragingly as he gestured to the board. You moved one of your central pawns two squares forward. He quickly moved one of his pawns forward too as you surreptitiously took a photo to send to Charles. The game continued like this, you moving your pieces and then taking a photo of the board just after Arthur made his move. You were sure he was going to question you being on your phone so much but he must have assumed you were checking the notes you had made on how the pieces move.

Arthur’s brows furrowed in concentration, bottom lip disappearing as he sucked it subconsciously whilst trying to work out his next move. Somehow you were coming up with great plays and he was more than a little proud. He knew you were intelligent and your visual memory would help you in chess but you were doing far better in your first game than he had imagined. He hoped it was beginner's luck because he couldn’t lose every game to you, he would never live it down with his brothers if so.

He moved his knight into position, “check. Remember that means that your king is under attack, so you have to move him or take out the danger,” he explained again. You quickly looked at your phone to see Charles’ reply. He had realised that telling you chess board lingo like ‘knight to C5,’ wasn’t going to work with a beginner so was instead sending you images of a chess board with the pieces exactly like yours and arrows indicating your move. It meant you didn’t have to spend ages looking at your phone to make your next move either. Arthur didn’t seem suspicious but it was getting harder to hide your smile and giggles from him.

“Why are you smiling like that?” he asked, meeting your gaze, blue eyes shining in the sunlight streaming through the window.

“I was just wondering if they have kiss or cuddle breaks in chess,” you said with a shrug.

“They do in Leclerc chess…”

“Oh yeah, how’s that different from normal chess then, Thur?”

He stood up and held his hands out to pull you up from the sofa, careful not to disturb the board resting on the middle cushion. “Like this…” he said, gently cupping your cheek before meeting your lips with his, his other hand carding through your hair gently.

The game continued, your boyfriend making his moves and you countering them with the positions Charles was sending you. Arthur stared miserably at your collection of his pieces. He knew losing pieces didn’t necessarily mean he was losing the game, but it didn’t bode well for him. “I am the best at chess,” he boasted confidently, “I cannot believe I am losing this badly. Something is very wrong.” He glared at the board as if it was somehow the fault of an inanimate object and you couldn’t help the laugh that escaped at his forlorn face.

“Sorry baby, maybe I am just a natural,” you replied, sticking your tongue out before laughing again. You glanced quickly at your phone where Charles had sent another message, “do this and then say check.” You moved your bishop as requested, “check.” You giggled, “that means your king is under attack…”

Arthur crossed his arms with a sigh, biceps bulging and momentarily stealing your attention as he muttered “thank you for that” under his breath. He took a while thinking before finally moving his king, hand running through his hair as he did so.

“Make this move, then say checkmate sucker. You lose,” you giggled at your phone. It was very clear where Arthur’s competitive nature came from.

“Stop laughing at me. This was supposed to be a nice relaxing game of chess and you ruined it!” he lamented.

“I’m sorry, have you met you? There is no such thing as relaxing game with you or any of your brothers, Leclerc! And actually on that note,” you paused to move your bishop again, “checkmate sucker, you lose.”

“Noooooooooooo!” Arthur yelled, face frozen in shock as he stared at you. You let him process his loss for a few minutes before speaking.

“Arthur, little Leclerc, mon cœur, little booty ham sandwich…”

He raised his eyebrows, “I am allowed to hate losing,” he stated matter of factly, ignoring the nicknames he usually loved.

“I know, it’s just…uh…I have a confession…”

“YOU CHEATED?!” he yelled, voice high pitched, hand flat against the side of his head, eyes wide in disbelief.

“I can’t believe this,” he said sadly, shaking his head, “you cheated. With help from my BROTHER.” Arthur’s theatrics were on full display, pretending he was utterly heartbroken at recent events.

“The betrayal - by two of the people I love THE MOST!” he exclaimed, clutching his heart and pulling a sad face as he fell dramatically backwards on the sofa. “I may never recover from this. I am traumatised FOR LIFE baby, FOR LIFE.” His hand was now tugging at his hair, his face a picture of anguish except for the crinkles round his eyes as he fought a giggle. “I thought my teaching was so good I had created a chess master but no. I created a cheater!”

“Wow, really? Acting like I haven’t seen you and Charles cheat in all those team challenges they have made you do over the years. Or that time you told me you cheated at poker because Charles was wearing his glasses and you could see his cards reflected in them…” You folded your arms with the grin of someone who was currently winning whatever the hell this was.

“That was a secret!” he yelled, launching himself at you, laughter escaping as he flew through the air. Seconds later he had you pinned under him, hands tickling your sides, eyes full of mischief. “Say you’re sorry for cheating!”

You were laughing so hard you could barely get the words out. “I’m…sorry…but it…was worth it” Arthur only tickled you more until you begged him to stop. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” you shrieked, stomach hurting from laughing so hard. His hands came to a stop on your waist, eyes gazing fondly as he beamed at you.

“You’ll just have to teach me again,” you said with a grin, “but Leclerc chess, not regular chess.”

“Did I mention that in Leclerc chess, if your last name isn’t Leclerc, you have to take off an item of clothing every time you lose a piece.”

“You absolutely do not, stop making shit up Thur!”

“Ah you’re right, sorry, it’s every time you make a move…”

“You are such a little shit, I swear!”

“But you love me for it,” he said, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching as he smiled, your favourite smile in the world.

“I do, I really really do.”

“Also, if you really hate that rule, I can always give you my last name,” he added with a wink.

[babybearnation]

cause i've got a soft spot (i've got it for you)

⎇paul aron x m!team boss!reader - you don't play favourites, but with paul... (smau) ⎇author's note: my first ever non-texts post and AHHH this is so nerve-wracking omd!! pls be nice to me PLS ⎇content warnings: team boss/racer relationship, hate comments, suggestive content, implied homophobia, arguing

Paul sighs, wiping his hands on his pants for the umpteenth time. His leg bounces restlessly and he's rather glad he got here after Arthur had already gone into the room to meet Y/n otherwise he's sure he would've annoyed his future teammate before the season could even start.

Paul's about to stand up and start pacing when the door clicks and swings open, Arthur walking out first. Paul watches as Arthur and Y/n exchange farewells before standing up and smiling when Y/n beckons him into the room.

"Paul, hi. Come on in." Y/n says. Paul crosses to the room, smiling as he enters the vast area. He's vaguely aware of the many thoughts he's having about Y/n and how young he is and how insanely attractive he is, but he's pushing them all down.

Professionalism, Paul, come on!

"So, welcome to the team." Y/n says as he sits down, folding his hands atop the desk as he smiles warmly at Paul. Paul finds himself flushing lightly, warmth lighting up his body.

"It's great to be here. Thank you for giving me this opportunity." Paul says, his words feeling thick and heavy on his tongue. Thank you doesn't feel good enough, but his English is clunky and he doesn't want to make a fool out of himself.

"Your post-season test with Alpine showed fantastic potential and we have the finances to invest in more... how shall I put this?" Y/n trails off, tapping his chin before shrugging. "More risky decisions, shall we say."

"Right." Paul says, an embarrassment flushing throughout his system. Do they really think he's gonna be that bad?

"Not that that's a reflection on you or Arthur, of course. I have my confidence firmly placed in both of your hands. But, well, you know how fans and higher ups can be." Y/n says, laughing softly. Paul latches onto the sound instantly, something flickering to life in his gut.

"I totally understand what you mean. Thank you for your confidence. I hope my performance can please you, Mr. Y/l/n." Paul says, all the drilled-in media training entwining with the words that drip from his tongue.

"Please, Paul, call me Y/n. I don't want this to feel like a job to you, but rather a family." Y/n smiles again and Paul finds himself naturally smiling back, all his previous nerves and professionalism replaced with a twisted sense of desire. "Now, about this family thing. Let's go get some lunch with the rest of the staff, shall we? I'm quite famished."

Paul thinks he might like it here.

liked by arthur_leclerc, cbaceracing, and 62,880 others

paularon_ Thank you to @/cbaceracing for signing me on as one of their 2025 drivers. I hope everyone is excited to see me on the grid next year. (And thank you @/aronralf for the silly cake).

comments

user1 let's go, paul on the f1 gridddddd

cbaceracing It's gotta be a good year when you've got Paul Aron on your team, huh @/hitechgp 😉 ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎ liked by paularon_ hitechgp Can't disagree with that, can we? 😉 liked by paularon_

user2 This is fucking insane, I'm so happy right now.

arthur_leclerc I look forward to racing with you next year, mate. liked by paularon_

user3 Arthur's gonna fucking run your shit into the dirt. You're awful. user1 ew, who asked you? user2 Jealousy gets you nowhere, mate 🙄

aronralf That cake was delicious, I think we can both agree. liked by paularon_ paularon_ Remind me who ate most of it again?

Y/n sighs, pacing back and forth as he drags his fingers through his hair. He probably shouldn't dishevel his appearance too much lest he come off as unprofessional or unattractive, but it's been his bad habit for years, so bad habit it shall remain.

His fingers drift down to his tie and he's just about to tug it loose and retie it when there's a knock at the door. He crosses over instantly, tugging it open with far too much excitement, smiling breathlessly when he spots Paul on the other side.

"Hello, come on in." Y/n says, stepping to one side to let Paul through. Paul greets him softly and enters the room, sitting in the chair closest to Y/n's one. Y/n's heart most resolutely does not flutter.

"What's happening? Is everything alright? You look like a mess, to be honest." Paul says. Y/n huffs out a laugh as he leans against the desk, gazing down at Paul.

"Something is plaguing me." Y/n says, wincing when a headache decides to form behind his eyelids. Why right now? When he looks at Paul again, the younger man has a troubled expression on his face.

"Is everything okay with the team?" Paul asks. Y/n wants to laugh. Paul's devotion to the team is already showing and Y/n hasn't even had to do anything to make it happen! It's adorable, it really is.

"Yes, yes, all good. It's more myself." Y/n says. The headache throbs and he reaches over the desk, snatching up his water bottle and drinking a greedy mouthful. A stray droplet trickles down his cheek and he wipes it away with a calculated finger.

"So what's wrong? Is there any way I can help? I mean... you must've called me here for a reason, right?" Paul says, as observant as ever. Y/n smiles softly at him.

"I was wondering if you'd like to go on a date with me." Y/n says, puffing his chest out in triumph. He did it, he said it, now hopefully he's not going to get rejected.

"I- is that not inappropriate? Won't people claim you favour me?" Paul sputters, his cheeks a delicate pink.

"I've held feelings for you for a while. No favouring claims have come out, have they?" Y/n says. He's practically baring the very depths of his soul to Paul right now, an embarrassing hue of red surely filling his face and trickling down his neck.

"That's true..." Paul says, looking away from Y/n's gaze. Y/n smiles and leans down, capturing one of Paul's hands in his own.

"You can say no. I won't react negatively, I promise." Y/n says. Paul nods stiltedly before smiling up at him.

"I'd love to go on a date with you, Y/n."

Every single member of staff who currently fill both Paul and Arthur's garages come pouring out as Paul crosses the line to start his final lap, Arthur hot on his tail. They cram along the fences and the walls around CB Ace Racing's pitbox as Y/n smiles at the screens in front of him.

A 1-2 finish. Every team boss's dream. Every team's dream. Whilst Arthur would surely wish he had finished first, Y/n knew he wouldn't hold that grudge and would celebrate just as hard, if not harder, than Paul would tonight.

One last corner. One last straight. One last bit.

"Paul Aron, you are the winner of the Silverstone Grand Prix!" Cheers and thunderous applause rise up throughout the pitlane as CB Ace staff pound the fences and hoot and holler in excitement over their hard work finally paying off. Paul's white and purple car continues on around the circuit as his radio crackles to life.

"We did it! I did it for you, CB Ace Racing! I did it for you, Callum! I did it for you, Y/n!" You smile as Paul thanks everyone, the tears that are probably soaking into the material of his balaclava audible through his voice.

"You did it, Paul. You did it." Y/n says, proud and triumphant. He listens to Arthur's radio and congratulates him as well before pulling his headphones off and slowly following the rest of his team over to parc fermé.

As he goes, Y/n thinks to himself about how big this was for them. A rookie team. Two rookie drivers. Hundreds of points and a handful of podiums under their belt. And now a win. It was a dream come true as well as a big fuck you to everyone who had doubted them.

Y/n lines up front and centre as he watches Paul pull into parc fermé, the white and purple of his car sparkling and practically iridescent under the British sun. Arthur's car comes next but Y/n isn't able to stare for long, Paul clambering out of his car seconds later.

Paul stands atop his car and cheers, all the mechanics and staff around Y/n cheering along too. Y/n claps, slowly and patiently, as he waits for Paul to get weighed. Before long, his helmet has been discarded and he starts running over.

Straight to Y/n.

"I did it!" Paul says as he all but collapses in Y/n's arms. Y/n holds him close, offering his hand to Arthur when the other man appears moments later. He rolls his eyes fondly at Paul and Y/n before moving over to congratulate the rest of the staff.

The interviews and the cool down room waiting period passed so quickly Y/n was almost sure he imagined them. Before long, however, he stands in a crowd of thousands, eyes fixed on his two drivers. On his boyfriend. On his staff. On the legacy they've created in only their first year. And there's still more to come.

As the Estonian and British national anthems fill the Silverstone circuit in rapid succession, Y/n feels ecstatic.

Paul knocks against the doorframe. Arthur's driver's room door is open, but Paul doesn't want to just barge in without getting some sort of consent.

"Paul! Come on in." Arthur says, looking up from his phone with a soft smile. Paul smiles in return and slowly enters the room, kicking the door shut behind him.

"Can we talk?"

"Of course." Arthur says, locking his phone and placing it to one side, all his attention fixed solely on Paul. It's a bit daunting. "What is up?"

"You know me and Y/n are dating right?" Paul says, watching as Arthur's eyes widen almost comically in shock. "That's a no then."

"No clue." Arthur clarifies, laughing softly. A small amount of tension bleeds from the atmosphere at that and Paul finds himself relaxing somewhat.

"Well we are and um, do you think it seems like he favours me?" Paul asks, wringing his hands together. The question was out there now, simmering in the air between them. Arthur hmm's, causing Paul to look up and meet his eyes.

"No, not at all. You two seem closer, but I've never felt like you were prioritised over me." Arthur says, shrugging with a wonky expression on his face.

"Oh thank god. I was so worried someone would think that was the case. People are already getting suspicious about us on Twitter." Paul says, all the tension seeping from his shoulders, allowing him to practically melt against the wall behind him.

"Ah, Twitter rumours. The place of all good F1 commentary." Arthur snarks, both of them laughing at the idiocy of his words.

"That's an understatement."

liked by paularon_, arthur_leclerc and 20,072 others

y/n.cbace Sorry everyone, but this one's mine. (Bonus Arthur with Paul at the end I guess? 🙄)

tagged paularon_, arthur_leclerc

comments

paularon_ Love you, kallikene 🤍 liked by y/n.cbace y/n.cbace Love you more 😘

arthur_leclerc What's that supposed to mean 😐 liked by y/n.cbace y/n.cbace Nothingggg! I love you equally, just in different ways! arthur_leclerc Uh-huh, sure 😒 liked by y/n.cbace

neonpinkleds I TOLD Y'ALL MOTHERFUCKERS !!!!

user3 Eugh, the only reason you got the seat is because you're fucking the team principal. user1 Just say you're jealous you're not getting your dick wet🙄 liked by y/n.cbace

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[rdr2gifs]

''the morning light, when it comes to me, it was there but I could not see''

Arthur’s life was profoundly shaped by his self-hatred, lack of self-worth and disbelief in the existence of kindness in a seemingly dark and cruel world.

I strongly disagree with the statement that Arthur only became a ‘’better’’ man after being diagnosed with tb. His struggle with his true/inner self is apparent as early as chapter one. ‘’You are not who you think you are, sir… which is lucky’’

He has lived a rough life, raised by criminals and surrounded by violence ever since he was born. It was installed in him early that his value lied within being a violent enforcer and he has lived this life since, knowing nothing else. As a highly aware person, Arthur's actions weight heavy on his soul. He accepts that his actions have consequences. He knows that a person who has caused so much suffering is not meant to have happiness in life. His way of life has caused him to believe that he is not worthy of love or redemption. He doesn’t want to believe that a person like him could be capable of any good. (a thing to note here is that imo, Arthur’s actions near his death weren’t attempts at redemption but rather a strong desire to do right and possibly be his true self.) This is why he keeps living as he does as it’s the only thing he’s ever known, it’s the thing that brings him profit, praise from the person he looks up to and he is already damned so he might as well continue living this life anyway.

The internal problem Arthur faces is that this violent, cruel way of life doesn’t align with what I’d call his true self/ideals. He is torn between the harsh reality he has known and an unconscious yearning for righteousness/love. To be able to carry on with his actions he must enforce certain ideals within himself, such as: I am bad, ugly, nasty, ignorant, mean etc. He also decides to see the dark side of reality, telling himself that the world is a grim dark place and this is just as things were meant to be. This is why he feels so uncomfortable being complimented for his good deeds, because a bad rotten person like him should not be able to do good. It breaks the image he has built for himself and he doesn’t want that happening. This can be seen a lot during the ‘’Money Lending and Other Sins’’ missions where he is unusually mean (even for his standards) to each of the debtors. Imo, he acts this way because he must truly convince himself of being a terrible man to be able to carry out a job which revolts him so badly. In the last debt collecting mission with J. John Weathers, it can be seen in his face/expressions how much he is struggling to put on a tough, uncaring, heartless act. He needs to maintain a ruthless persona to survive in the world he knows. He must convince himself of his own cruelty.

''Forgive me, but that's the problem. You don't know you.''

Contrary to Arthur’s beliefs, he is a naturally kind-hearted person who is unconsciously drawn towards kindness. And yes, even before he was diagnosed with tb. This can be seen in the people he respects the most and, in his willingness to help strangers (notice how he often does unnecessary acts of service for total strangers such as: carrying their things, holding out hands etc. even though they had already troubled him). Despite the life he has lived, Arthur does not enjoy violence, he does not enjoy hurting people. He doesn’t want to dominate over others. He thinks mostly about others and not about himself. This fact alone is very telling of his character.

He writes about Charles, a man who he truly respects: ‘’He’s a better man than me. He does not need to think to be good. It comes naturally to him, like right is deep within as opposed to this conflict between GOOD↔EVIL that rages within me.’’ A man who is not struggling with his inner self would not have written this. To me this clearly implies an inner desire to be a better man. He writes about his mentors: ‘’I love Dutch like a father, but in many ways, I love Hosea even more. He’s kind and fair and like a human being. Dutch is something else.’’ Clearly showing a preference for Hosea who is of a more gentle nature and shows genuine kindness. Unsurprisingly, these are the people who see through his dumb/though act and encourage him to drop it.

When he comes across Brother Dorkins for the first time, he writes: ‘’(he)was one of those innocent people who make you feel better about human beings and about yourself a little. Must be odd to see all that goodness in the world. Place always seemed dark and brutal to me.’’ Expressing how he does not see goodness in the world, implying lack of good examples/kindness/good experiences in his life. Yet, the monk leaves an impression and imo, this encounter (seeing genuine goodness) disrupts Arthur’s perception of what the world truly is. ‘’Just as evil begat evil your whole life long, so good may begat good’’ (what strengthens my belief in this, is the following, symbolic scene of Arthur realising the consequences of his actions right after picking up a crucifix. He was aware of them before sure, but is unable to truly ignore them now having seen it right in front of his eyes). If only Arthur was presented with more examples of goodness in his life.

''You have it in you... I can tell!''

His desire to do as much good as possible after realising he won’t live long is instant. This would not be the mindset of someone who did not already possess kindness in his heart. ‘’Know glory and forget about shame.’’ Arthur’s shame and self-loathing caused by his previous actions were what was holding him back from allowing kindness into his life. Knowing that he has limited time left has not made him into someone he wasn’t before. The diagnosis was a catalyst, allowing him to embrace that love/goodness truly does exist and accelerate the process of chipping away from the persona he has made for himself. This was a newfound understanding for him as in the past he was rejecting any notion of kindess. In himself and perhaps the whole existence of it. ‘’You keep hidden all that matters, even from yourself.’’

After being diagnosed, he writes: ‘’What kind of a man have I been? What kind of a man am I? What world is this we live in? A land of fury or a place of love? Am I being prepared for eternal damnation? Am I past any kind of saving? Is that all fairytales? Man ain’t got much good in him. I ain’t got no good in me… I don’t think and yet I see goodness. I see it. If not in me, in good folk. In Abigail and her love for Jack. In that silly monk. In Downes, I guess. Begging not for himself but for the poor, even though he was near starving himself. Maybe I don’t want salvation. Part of me has always longed for death.’’ This entry perfectly shows how deep Arthur’s self-loathing goes and just how much it has damaged him. As his journal allows a look into his true feelings, he truly does not see a single good thing about himself. He knew for a long time that the way he lives is detestable but he could not let go of it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because it’s all that he has ever known. He didn’t believe in anything else. This sudden acceptance of goodness has allowed him to see clearly, which was obscured from him before, and for the first time, enabled him to act free of past regrets for what is right.

⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪

Arthur’s redemption is not about becoming a good man. It is about finding the strength to change and recognise your true self despite a lifetime of self-loathing and breaking free from destructive beliefs of the past.

In Arthurian legends a stag is a symbol of the unending quest of spiritual knowledge/enligtenment

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

updated and improved "all the fears want arthur lester carnally" list

(part 2/john-focused list here)

just a general tally of influence/Marks arthur would have received if you were playing by TMA rules. enhanced with further contemplation and with some peer review from @luci-z-wont-shut-up thankyouuu

the eye

VERY dedicated private investigator. consistently more invested in Solving The Mystery than, like, Remaining Alive

has not had a single moment of privacy since the series started bc there's this other asshole parked in his eyes watching and judging him 24/7. granted this never seems to like, bother him overmuch, bc he's usually got bigger problems than whether john is watching him strip, but still

was magic-stalked by the KIY and his cult throughout season 1

also kayne was watching his whole life and taking notes to roast him about his trauma later. apparently

something something metanarrative implications of an audience gathering around just to watch you suffer

scratch in The Nightmare watching his dreams and bad memories with fascination?

the spiral

possessed by a god of madness (twice) (three times?) (possibly more depending on how you count?)

was held hostage in a fake dream-realm mental institution with fucked up architecture so one of the aforementioned madness gods could pry information out of him (which also gets cryptically described as "Here, there, everywhere, nowhere. Anywhere." which is sooo the spiral-coded)

the king’s interference/manipulation in part 18, similar to above

scratch and lillith’s nightmares?

relies on someone else to be his eyes so there's always the lingering background awareness that he may be missing or outright misrepresenting information & consequently he can't trust what he sees

the end

he's died.

multiple times.

there's also the omnipresent threats on his life but mostly just that. like. he's been The Ended. doesn't get much more direct than that

the stranger

i still think "losing parts of your body to another consciousness while they are still attached to you" is VERY the stranger type activities

the king in S1 turning any weak-willed bystanders against him so any stranger could turn into a threat without warning

also, the king and scratch posing as normal people, even people he knows sometimes!

a lot of addison gave the sense of being surrounded by people who saw him as Other and could not be trusted

orbited by a cast of nonhuman Entities remaking their identities into something closer to humanity for one reason or another (john, yellow, scratch, kayne) and frequently not quite hitting the mark (ty luci)

the lonely

general sense of alienation from his peers that started young and—just vibe checking here, just taking a general temperature—doesn't seem to have gotten much better over time

"I want him safe." / "You want him back." / "...Yes." <- guy who can totally handle being alone

john left and he went fully off the deep end in the span of like, a day

it's just one of those things that i think he hates and is terrified of but also is constantly haunted by

the desolation

the whole vibe of the death/destruction specifically of things that could have brought meaning to the world, or people who had a lot to live for and could have touched other lives and had an effect on others, is... um. (gestures vaguely at the. all of them)

the whole “boy playing with matches, escaping unscathed while the house burns down” thing in part 20… also v v desocore both symbolically and literally

will do LITERALLY ANYTHING to avoid losing anyone else.

also pain. i feel like pain takes a thematic backseat but it is still a part of the desolation and good lord is this man in so much pain basically all the time

physically burning an object with emotional significance to a friend and in doing so burning their relationship to ashes out of anger at said friend's happiness (william)

physically burning an object with emotional significance to himself after having intentionally cut someone he cared abt out of his life, sacrificing that last connection to save himself (oscar's letter)

one time he did an arson at an in-progress building site and left a guy bleeding out in the ruins!! desolation come get your juice

also independently invented molotovs so he could use them to kill a different thing which was perhaps divine inspiration straight from the lightless flame itself??

the slaughter

start with parker's death and just work your way down from there tbh

the butcher confrontation "Whose life did you take without provocation, without threat? Who did you kill that was innocent?" vs the slaughter's "random, senseless, unmotivated violence"

also knowing that pain and death are coming but not where or when or how. Yup 👍

just. in general. he has been wading through his own and other people's blood in equal measure since the start of the damn show

got. slaughtered. the s5 finale feels. pretty slaughter aligned. imo.

the vast

timelines! go confront how meaningless your entire life is in the face of the uncaring multiverse! have a quick crisis about it! fuck meaning!

i still don't have a whole lot for this one tbh

he can't stop falling off things obviously but i don't think he's particularly scared of that. i think he's resigned to it. balance is a fickle beast and he has accepted that it does not return his affections.

one time a kraken almost drowned him?

the buried

known claustrophobe!

almost got pinned in a cave, unable to move, on multiple different occasions!

this man and caves in general have a very very bad relationship. they keep making him be underground and then terrible things happen to him down there.

the GUILT. suffocating life-destroying inescapable guilt. that’s buried af

drowning goes here also :)

the dark

"Funny. Before all of this, I used to fear the dark. Not in any crippling way, but – but now it’s… well, now it’s no different." (part 12)

used to be unnerved by the dark and now he is blind. checks out

the whole forest with the dark young in part 49

also, the dark world. it's in the name, baby. that's more john's fear but i think it has to rub off on him at least a little bit

the corruption

eeeeverything that happened with the witch. she tried to use him to breed maggots. now that's what i call Corrupt™

horig, also

mother darkness calls him “pestilence” and “spoils from a rotten tree” when they talk, which. hm.

obsessive, almost self-destructive levels of devotion to an entity that killed his friend and wrecked his life. listen i'm supportive i think they're perfect for each other in an ESH way i'm just saying this probably also falls into the corruption's purview (ty luci)

ESPECIALLY considering john lives in his body like a parasite. not trying to be derogatory here but like, on an objective level. he is stealing his body parts. and arthur loves him. again, incredibly on-brand for the corruption

the web

he Doesn't Like Being Told What To Do >:[

ongoing vendetta against cult shit for this exact reason. the idea of not having fully free will seems to be very actively and deeply concerning for him

"I am the captain of my soul" and so on and so forth

john's (variably successful) attempts to manipulate him over the course of the show

more materially, having your body parts physically taken and moved by another is also sorta the web

patreon decisions... what if the web was a fuckton of tiny lil spiders that just sorta nudged you in one direction or another on occasion

got literally brainwormed by The Creature back in addison (twice!)

the flesh

Michael Fucking Faust.

also, had to bite his own finger off before that. in case you needed or wanted some bonus points

kind of also the witch again, in terms of having your personhood disregarded in favor of simply being Meat to other beings to feed on

the hunt

HOO BOY has he ever been Hunted. so many times by so many different things. take your fucking pick

also: "You are hunting." / "Predators need to be hunted." <- basically an active prayer to the hunt

this man is prey animal rage incarnate honestly. go!! lose yourself in the bloodlust!! kill them before they can kill you!!!!

john would really appreciate it if he was a little Less cozy with the hunt tbh :(

the extinction

i'm actually not counting this one bc it doesn't take avatars and also doesn't rrrreally exist yet

he's lived through a world war and a pandemic. how's that. i think that's as good as it gets.

CONCLUSION: i still think arthur should go shake hands with the vast and get carried off by a bird and hope that gets the rest of these assholes to fuck off. i think it's his best bet atp.

[merlinmylove]

Chapter three is up now!!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63826411/chapters/163670266

🖤🖤🖤🖤

There will be four chapters in total. Eventually.

Thank you for everything x

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@bogslob @ballpit-bar

Merlin had left Camelot on a Sunday afternoon. He had spent the whole day on horseback, trying to make as much headway as possible. Tracking Gaius’s steps was nearly impossible, even with magic, for it was just another dead end anywhere he looked.

He had no idea where Gaius would’ve gone had he left on his own, but if he had been kidnapped like he suspected, then Morgana would be keeping him somewhere hidden with magic.

He searched The Valley of the Fallen Kings, but he found nothing besides bandits and wolves. Morgana's hut was abandoned, and it looked like it had not been used since the fomorrah incident.

The day turned into night, and Merlin made himself a little camp. Hengroen was tied with a loose rope to a tree, and he made a small fire. In his rush to leave the citadel, he forgot to bring food with him, but he had picked enough herbs in his life to recognise edible plants. Nuts, berries, and even a small fish from the river nearby. He was pretty satisfied.

Merlin spent the whole following Monday scrying for Gaius, searching for Gaius, and scavenging Morgana’s hut. He couldn’t find anything of use, nor could he find Gaius. 

Night came again, and as he made camp, Merlin mourned the loss of Arthur. In his selfish mind, he knew he could live without Gaius, but never without Arthur. The sad truth is that Gaius was most likely already dead, or near dying, if he was hurt or alone in the woods. Merlin kicked a stone into the fire.

As he lay down to sleep, Merlin wondered if Arthur would miss him the way he did. He feels as if he cut out his heart and left it behind in Camelot. Not being around his King was discouraging and strange. Like a phantom pain. A part of him was missing, and his heart was bleeding from the loss.

Every so often, Merlin had seen something he wanted to show Arthur and the knights: an owl, a fox, a cute bird, and every time he had turned around to point them out was just another reminder of what he’d lost.

Unable to help himself, Merlin thought about Arthur. He thought of the way Arthur's eyes crinkle when he laughs and how his teeth are a little crooked. Merlin thought about his laugh, how it was such a delightful thing to hear, and how much he always looked forward to hearing it. He closed his eyes, and reminisced on the many times he’s made a fool of himself just to hear his favourite laugh in the world.

Once he began thinking about Arthur, he couldn’t stop. Merlin thought about how Arthur was so strong, both emotionally and physically. To bear the weight of the crown in such a graceful way, to always put others before himself, to carry the guilt and the burden of being Uther’s son all while honouring his mother's memory…

Arthur Pendragon was truly an extraordinary man, and Merlin was honoured to serve him.

His physical strength was also immense. A born fighter and warrior. A true knight. Merlin had spent hours massaging his muscles and thighs with hot oil to ease the pain from training. Merlin was well aware of Arthur’s muscles. The way his shirts always stretch around his shoulders and upper arms. He had mended many of Arthur’s shirts when they inevitably tore because of his muscles.

Now, Merlin had never been as dense as Arthur liked to believe. Contrary to popular belief, he did have a brain between his giant ears. And he knew full well that his feelings for the King were more than platonic. But it was also more than just romantic. Arthur meant everything to him in a way that was impossible to explain to others. 

And he had tried — Lancelot came closest to understanding, what with him giving up on Gwen so she could marry Arthur. He sacrificed his own chance at love so she could be happy with another man. But in the end, she had chosen him, and they were immensely happy together. 

Merlin had worried about Gwen not becoming the Once and Future Queen and what this would mean for the prophecy, but Camelot and Albion were still standing, so he assumed her role as Arthur’s advisor was fulfilling a part of the prophecy.

Merlin tossed around in his bedroll. He regretted not speaking to his friends before he left, but he also knew that if he did, they would persuade him to stay, and it would all have been for nothing.

Merlin missed Arthur like a limb. He missed the way the knights laughed and talked. He missed the way Arthur would tease him whenever he got spooked by the wind rustling the leaves, but he would still let Merlin sleep first.

He considered scrying on Arthur to see if he was doing alright, but he was too afraid of any potential heartbreak, so he decided not to. He hoped and prayed that Gwaine and Lancelot were still keeping an eye on Agravaine, like they promised to do months ago.

This had been his main concern when leaving. The idea of not having eyes on Agravaine at all times was horrifying, but right now, Morgana was a bigger threat. And if he could find Gaius, he could find her.

He tucked himself into the bedroll, looked over at the fire, and sighed. As much as he believed he had made the right choice in leaving Camelot, his heart ached for Arthur.

Merlin felt a salty tear fall down his cheek as he whispered into the cold, still night. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

—

During the night, while Merlin dreamt of golden hair and crooked teeth, a man hit him over the head and dragged him away from his camp.

 — 

Back in Camelot, Arthur was sobbing.

Two days have gone by with no sign of Merlin. He missed Merlin like he missed his mother. There was a constant pain in his chest, a throbbing headache pushing behind his eyes, and his throat was swollen from grinding his teeth in anger.

Agravaine had escaped yesterday, killing three guards and leaving a trail of blood in his wake. His men had died while Arthur had been out searching the woods again for Merlin. The truth was unavoidable now; Merlin had been right. Gaius was innocent and missing, and his uncle had likely orchestrated the whole ordeal.

Arthur stared out of his window as his hand rubbed his knuckles against his sternum. The pressure reminded him that he was, somehow, still breathing and alive. It was the second night in a row he’d been wide awake, missing Merlin. 

Leon had been nagging him all day about getting some sleep, but he couldn’t: Arthur had spent the day cleaning and tidying up the physician's chambers. It was his duty.

Farris’s amended contract gave him his own chambers, as well as two assistants. They were in the process of hiring other physicians, but the main workspace needed to be readied before any real work could proceed. And so Arthur had spent hours breaking his back cleaning it up. 

He thought back on the revelations he’d uncovered earlier in the day; In the middle of picking up books from the floor, one had fallen open, and Arthur’s worldview changed again.

From the dusty page, a unicom stared at him in wondrous beauty. He remembered the plague that befell Camelot after he had slain one. As he read down the page on the creature it struck him instantly — this was a book about magical creatures. And he was reading it, not unlike what he’d done years before when the griffin attacked or when the dorocha swept across the sky. 

This book, which held so much useful information, was not unlike the ones he had just sentenced Gaius for. Information, which he had used himself for the betterment of his Kingdom, had sentenced others to death. 

Arthur had looked up at the half-empty bookshelves, most of their contents where scattered across the floor. How many of these books had saved his life, or that of his kingdom’s? How many of these books would sentence someone to the pyre, but instead they’ve been kept safely in here? With his father's knowledge and permission.

How many of the potions and draughts Gaius had made him over the years were old druid recipes? He had studied magics alongside the ancient sorcerers of the old religion; surely some knowledge remained and was still used. Gaius had seemingly kept touch with some, like Dragoon, because whenever the King needed help, he always seemed to have an answer.

He felt like such a fool! Why had his father never told him of this? Why had he been expected to figure this out himself while simultaneously being told that any book on the topic of magic was an evil in itself with only one acceptable punishment?!

He had fallen to the floor in exhaustion, and in his frustration, he never got up. It was Gwen who found Arthur many hours later. She had listened to him rant with effortless ease, and after a while she took his hand in hers and made him listen.

“When the law is unjust, innocents die.”

Arthur flinched, but he knew it was true. These last two days had proved that several times over. And while he was rightfully scared of magic, he had always thought his father's paranoia was a tad too strong, and he was too eager to light a pyre. Over the years, Arthur had pleaded the case of banishment over execution for several minor cases, but Uther accused him of being too soft. 

Gwen's soft hand had played with his hair. He sat on the floor, leaning against her on the bench. The silk of her dress was a gentless he needed in the moment. Even though their relationship was over, the respect and love they shared were still present. Gwen would always be his trusted confidant and a great friend.

Gwen had told him about her nightmares. “I still dream that I am trapped in that cell, awaiting my death by fire, for how could I prove a negative? I never enchanted you, nor did I use magic to heal my father, but the king was convinced, and so I stood no chance. I was to burn for a crime I never committed.”

This had made him feel sick, and in an attempt to get away from the truth, he had left the workspace. He had holed himself up in his rooms ever since. Thinking about Merlin and Gaius, about his father, and all those who had burned for crimes they had no way of proving they didn’t do.

Arthur rubbed a hand across his jaw. His stubble was growing longer, irritating his skin, but he had never trusted anyone other than Merlin so close to his neck with a blade, and so the beard grew. As he couldn't be bothered to do it himself, it had grown rather quickly.

Eventually, Arthur fell asleep by the window, his head leaning against the stone walls.

— 

Two days go by. No Merlin, no Gaius.

Arthur was drowning in grief and anguish. Everywhere he looked, he saw another one of his father's failings and his own for not noticing them sooner. Everywhere he looked he saw memories of Merlin, as if the man haunted him and his castle walls.

Studip, honourable, kindhearted Merlin, who cried at baby birds but also ran headfirst into battle with no armor. Merlin, who never left his side, who acted like his anchor, keeping him steady and grounded. Without him, Arthur felt like a ship drifting away aimlessly, hoping desperately to find his way back to shore.

A nameless servant woke him up with perfect politeness. The curtains were opened, the table laid out, his clothes ironed and dried, and Arthur’s schedule had been updated. He hated it.

He missed Merlin’s nonsensical prattle. The way he pushed the curtains open so hard they would occasionally fall off the hooks. The way he threatened to eat his food unless Arthur hurried up, but in the very same breath called him fat and spoiled. Merlin had no sense of decorum and Arthur loved it.

Arthur dressed himself, for the idea of someone other than Merlin seeing him in such an intimate manner disgusted him. As he pulled his tunic on, he missed the feeling of Merlin's long, knobbly fingers and the way he would, accidentally, brush against his shoulders and chest. Completely accidentally, of course, and never lasting too long either.

Camelot felt like a vast nothingness. Merlin’s laugh and incorrigible voice was everywhere he looked. From the sun-faded bedlinen, to the empty chair next to hisown, to the sound of footsteps in the hallways — His castle was haunted with memories of his friend. 

Because that’s what they were, even if Arthur rarely admitted to it. More even, but he had yet to admit this to himself.

Everywhere he looked he saw a staunch reminder of what he has lost. Of whom he had lost. For in losing Merlin, he had lost a part of himself.

Lancelot had stayed by his side for most of the time these last few days. When questioned, he simply shrugged his shoulders. “I made a promise to Merlin five years ago. He made me swear to keep you alive should anything happen to him.” 

Arthur chuckled humourlessly. “Funny, I made Leon swear the same thing about him seven years ago.”

—

It’s been four days since Merlin left. On Wednesday evening, Arthur had joined some of his knights in their evening shift. He needed the distraction, and walking up and down the battlements was fitting. He craved something to keep his mind off of his missing manservant.

Arthur walked the battlements with his hands clenched tightly. Something inside him, his paranoia or perhaps his soldier's training, told him that Camelot was in danger. Arthur walked determinedly, keeping his eyes focused, awaiting danger.

That evening, while the sky was still somewhat clear from the moonlight, his suspicions proved right.

A dragon appeared on the horizon. Over the treetops it came flying towards Camelot and seemed to land in a forest clearing not too far away. Warning bells rang out, knights ran towards the armoury, and Arthur swallowed his panic as he mounted his horse. 

“For Camelot!”

The King of Camelot rode out with his knights. While the dragon had yet to attack, the sight of it sitting so close to the Kingdom's border was terrifying. Forty knights rode quickly, armored as best they could with spears and crossbows, while their King led the way.

The men buried their fear and donned their pride. The last time a dragon attacked Camelot, a hundred people perished, and they were surely marching toward their own deaths in an attempt to keep their home safe.

As Arthur got closer to the clearing he saw the same dragon Merlin told him he had killed four years ago. 

The great beast was standing on three legs, wings relaxed on the ground, as he held something in his right claw. “Peace, King Arthur.” The dragon spoke in a growling voice, its giant head lowering towards him. Bowing respectfully.

Arthur froze in fear at the sound of the very living dragon saying his name. He gripped his spear as he dismounted. Up close with the beast again, he could see the very teeth and eyes he used to have nightmares about.

“It can speak?” He heard from behind him.

“It has a name, Sir Leon.” The dragon huffed, annoyed, and leaned in even closer to the king and knights. “I need your help, young king.” He said with veneration.

Arthur, feeling more lost than ever before, especially with the knowledge that Merlin had lied to him about killing the dragon, dropped his spear. “Me?” He choked.

The dragon lifted his right arm and moved his giant claw towards him. Knights began to surround him with swords and shields, but he didn't let them. For he could see what is in the dragon's claw.

It was Hunith. 

Hunith laid carefully in between the beast's clawed foot. She looked badly wounded and pale.

Gentler than Arthur thought possible, the dragon lowered the woman’s body into the dewy grass. Arthur was on her in seconds, checking for a sign of life. Despite the obvious bruises and pale skin, she had a pulse, she was breathing. She was alive. 

“What have you done to her?!” Arthur shouted at the dragon, whose face was still close to his. It flared its nostrils, and smoke puffed out.

“I’ve done nothing to her.” He retaliated, moving his head backwards, allowing Lancelot and Elyan closer access to her body. They checked her over quickly, Lancelot rubbing her wrists for warmth while Elyan shielded her from the onlookers.

“The witch took her to The Dark Tower, torturing her with dark magic, giving her hellish hallucinations and nightmares.” Arthur listened as the dragon explained.

The witch. Morgana. Morgana had done this.

“How could she do this?” Arthur whispered as he looked at the woman he secretly loved as if she were his own mother. Morgana had once spoken so highly of Hunith, of how she raised Merlin all on her own. To think that she had done this…it was unbelievable.

“Why did she do this?” That was probably the better question. Aside from torturing Merlin and further angering Arthur, what other reason was there to hurt such a lovely woman?

“Information, young king. It’s a powerful tool as you know well. The right information in the wrong hands can be the downfall of a kingdom.” The dragon spoke as if it had lived a hundred lifetimes, witnessing the rise and fall of empires.

“But what could Hunith possibly know that Morgana would have any use of?” Leon asked the dragon, his spear was still aimed at it. 

“More than you can imagine, I think, young knight.” He turned his attention back to Arthur, who was desperately guarding Hunith's body. He was at a loss for words. With Merlin missing, he could not afford to lose Hunith too. Not her.

“How did you find her, and why? How do you know her?” Elyan asked as he gently stroked Huntihs sleeping face. She must’ve been spelled asleep, Arthur realised. For she slept soundly, despite her injuries.

“My lord tasked me to watch over her, and I did. But Morgana was quick and clever —  she snuck in during the darkness of night and took her. The torture used on her will have addled her mind. I have healed her physical injuries as best I can. But she will need proper care and rest.”

Care and rest that a dragon cannot provide. But Arthur could. So that’s why it came. The dragon wanted Arthur to keep her safe. But Arthur was still left with more questions. The dragon, who really should be dead, spoke of a lord. But he had buried Balinors body himself.

“Tell me, who is your lord? Balinor is dead — and you should be too!” If another dragonlord was out there and in control of a great dragon, it would be a terrible thing for Camelot.

“Look into your heart, young king. Who do you think my lord is?” The dragon suggested, and Arthur felt his heart shatter impossibly further. He realised in an instant who the dragonlord had to be.

Merlin was with him that night. It was Merlin who had insisted on coming with him to fight the dragon. It was Merlin who had told him the dragon was dead. 

“Merlin.” He answered himself and ignored the look of distress the knights surrounding him made.

“I always knew you were smarter than Uther, for he never realised what was right beneath his nose. Merlin is a dragonlord, and a rather powerful one at that. He inherited his powers from his father, just like you inherited the throne from yours.” Kilgharrah smarts.

“His father?” He choked.

“Yes, I believe you met him.” 

Arthur was suddenly reminded of the moment when Merlin cradled the dead dragonlord in his arms and stifled his sobs. His friend had been so heartbroken by the man’s death, but Arthur had only assumed it was grief over Camelot's future. 

But Merlin had grieved for himself. Grieved because he had just found and lost his father. Because he couldn't tell Arthur. He couldn’t grieve Balinor — his father — because of Arthur’s father.

Everyone looked on in shock at the Dragon's words. Everyone, except —

“You knew.” Arthur accused his knight.

Lancelot sighed and nodded. “Yes, my Lord. I have known about Merlin’s ancestry for three years now. I have also met Kilgharrah once before; he saved our life from the dorocha. It was Merlin’s power over the wyverns that caused one to fly into the open veil that dreadful night at the Isle of the Blessed. Merlin sacrificed one of his kin to save us.”

Everyone listened as Lancelot explained. Arthur was conflicted and confused, but he had no time to process any of this. He turned back to the dragon leering above him. “And Morgana, what happened to her?” He needed to know. If the dragon, Kilgharrah seemed to be his name, had rescued Huntih from Morgana's dark magic, surely a magical battle had taken place.

“The witch was still on fire when I left her, but I fear her power might yet keep her alive. She will be scornful and angry. But she must be fearing that the great Emrys is working against her.” The dragon seemed to snigger at this. Arthur didn’t know what to make of this statement, but he was happy to hear the dragon had enacted some revenge against Morgana.

As the dragon leaned in closer and sniffed Huith one last time, everyone braced themselves. Now, eye level with Arthur, he spoke. “I entrust her into your care now, Arthur Pendragon.” It was a threat, and everyone knew it.

“I will guard her with my life.” 

“Good. Or else there will be hell to pay.” The dragon flared his giant razor-sharp fangs before taking a step back and leaping up into the sky. Within moments, he became nothing more than a bat-like figure in the dark. He disappeared behind the clouds and was gone.

“Sire, do we stay in await of a fight?” Sir Kay looked nervously up at the sky. Arthur didn’t know how to explain it but he knew the right answer. If Merlin was the dragons' lord, then he knew Camelot would be safe.

“No, the dragon is gone, and he will not be back tonight. We need to bring Hunith back to the castle. I need two long and sturdy branches, we’ll carry her in our capes.” He ordered.

They make an improvised stretcher with their capes and the branches the knights have found. Placing Hunith carefully onto the red fabric, four knights lifted her up. They would have to carry her on foot as they couldn't risk another head injury from the unsteadiness of horse riding.

Arthur walked first, feeling the weight of his guilt and shame as he carried his beloved mother figure home. He looked up at the starry sky and begged whatever gods or goddesses that may be listening to please save Merlin. 

“Please, let him live.”

— 

Somewhere, Merlin screams in agony.

[tenebraevesper]

The Tourney and Chivalric Romance (Lansoni)

This is a story idea that came to my mind after feeling the need for more Lansoni (Sonic X Sir Lancelot) content. Depending on the reader, this can be a scenario where Sonic is stuck in Camelot permanently or temporary (if you're into Doomed Lansoni).

The first scenario would be where Sir Lancelot has developed feelings for King Sonic, participating later on in a tourney alongside other knights, where the winner is given a crown of blue roses to give it to the fair maiden who caught his eye, basically crowning her the Queen of Love and Beauty. Lancelot, who only has eyes for Sonic and is well aware what his gesture means, promptly gives the crown to the King while telling him that it is a sign of his loyalty and devotion (and love, but he doesn't mention the latter), while Sonic is flustered, but appreciates it.

Meanwhile, part of the audience, mainly the ladies who believed they'd be given the crown, are pissed off about the whole thing, only to get drowned by a vocal crowd of shippers who believe that the King and his Knight have a tragic romance going on and are totally cool with them getting together, even making up scenarios about their affair because they're all into the idea of courtly love. However, they also keep the whole thing a secret, determined to protect their relationship. Cue shenanigans where the shippers misinterpret any friendly gestures between Sonic and Lancelot as romantic, while also never intervening in anything and admiring them for afar. Sonic and Lancelot, on the other hand, are completely oblivious to the fact that people are shipping them and just carry on like normal.

Another scenario I had on mind would be the Arthur/Lancelot/Guinevere Love Triangle, which Sonic knows about because he actually read the book before he ended up here, even though he has figured that not everything in the SaTBK World is one-to-one. Still, he decides to prevent a tragedy from happening by making sure that Guinevere (Rouge's counterpart) is just his friend in this world, while also making it clear to Lancelot that he fully supports him in his romantic pursuits, while also hiding his own crush on the Knight.

Unknown to Sonic, Lancelot fully ignores Guinevere because he is head over heels in love with Sonic and while he at first believes Sonic has a thing for Guinevere, the King's support and a clarification about them being friends allows him to confess his own feelings, so Lansoni can happen without any tragedies occuring.

Meanwhile, the main reason why Guinevere is even at the court is because she wanted to see some rare gems in the royal treasury (she has Rouge's trait of being interested in jewelry) and is also well aware of the ongoing Lansoni ship, which she fully supports because she gets to tease the two about their relationship. She had also been chased away several times from the treasury by Sir Gawain, switching her interest to him, with the former being annoyed and flustered by her teasing. Cue the SaTBK version of Knuxouge happening.

All in all, Merlina's prophecy of Lancelot and Gawain's feud tearing the kingdom apart doesn't happen... or does it?

#Sonic Cyber Revolution (Masterlist)

[fxndxm-axg]

Breaking My Silence…

I hate how Low Honor Arthur is treated as some dom daddy pervert. More dominant than mid-high honor would be? Yes, he’s extremely selfish when LH, so it makes sense to assume he’s gonna take what he wants from his partner during sex. (This part is def more personal-opinionated of me) I would say he’s a “firm” dom, although that’s not a real thing pre-say lol. Definitely uses less ropes and cuffs and blindfolds as fics make him out to do, haha. Could be a soft dom potentially, based on the partner, I think. Maybe when he’s softer he’s more teasing and playful with a flustered bottom? Totally see it. But a pervert? Groping y/n in camp, being crass and filthy to/about y/n around people, etc? I can’t stand it. Even when LH, Arthur respects women (as much as a man can in 1899), and works alongside them. His antagonize lines towards women which are sexist can be enacted with any honor level, and the peeping-tom stranger events are completely done by player choice.

But fuck it bro it’s your life /ref 💀 and I get the appeal to some extent. But I just think that especially perverted-Arthur hc’s are some weird projections and fundamentally misconstrue the character. I’m not trying to be the hc police, because you’re allowed to interpret and enjoy media how you want! I’m just saying what I don’t enjoy with some interpretations of Arthur Morgan’s characterization….. This is all silly and goonerish because we’re speculating a fictional cowboys would-be sex life so that’s what I mean. I’m self aware to how stupid all of this is LMAOO but I hope my two cents is interesting.

Anyways here’s a pic of Arthur I took that is quintessential LH dom daddy pervert Arthur Morgan-core

[novankenn]

What kind of drunk do you think Salem is?

Interesting... I wonder? MWHAHAHAHAHA let my brain CREATE!!!

/==/

Cinder's face was ashen with dread. She had just received a notice from Watts, that their Queen... Salem would be visiting to "inspect" Cinder's operations in Vale. Only one problem, aside from the fact that evil incarnate was going to be dropping in for a friendly visit... Salem apparently had arrive and has been in Vale for a full fourteen hours!

Cinder pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration, trying to calm herself down as she picture whether she was going to immolate Watt's balls or his hair first. The sound of her scroll ringing, drew her from her pleasant plotting of Arthur Watts demise.

Cinder: Roman? What are you...

Roman: I found your boss lady...

Cinder: What? Where? How? WHERE?

Roman: Ah... which of those questions do you really want answered first?

Cinder: WHERE?

Roman: Junior's Club.

Cinder: Say what?!?

Roman: She's at Junior's Club... (hung up on)

Cinder: EMERALD! MERCURY! TO JUNIOR'S NOW!!!

/==/

It took the trio ten minutes to get from the safe house to Junior's. The bouncers well aware of who they were stepped aside instantly to let them enter. Inside they found the place packed with costumed party goers...

Mercury: Well that accounts for the lack of city wide panic...

Cinder: Just find her and start BEGGING as soo as you do!

Emerald: Uh... um... Cinder?

Cinder: WHAT?!?

Emerald: Over there...

Cinder followed the direction of Emerald's outstretched hand and blanched. There straddling the knees of a young blond man was her boss... the Queen of the Grimm.

Mercury: Is she letting him do body shots?

Cinder: Preposterous! She would never...

Emerald: Yep! That was a booby-shot if I ever saw one.

Cinder: Ah... urkk... arrrr... let's... let's go.

The trio shouldered their way through those party goers that stood, or rather danced between them and their destination. Cinder ground her teeth as the closer they became the more truthful Mercury's observation was. Salem, the Queen of the Grimm. Evil Incarnate, an Immortal Witch of unparalleled power was allowing some blond haired buffoon to pluck shot glasses from between her breasts with his... mouth.

Salem: (hic) Soooo... much (hic) funny! (hic)

????: (hic) you... you... (hic) is beau... beauti... beautiful! (hic)

Cinder: Ahem! Miss...

Salem: CINDY! (hic)

Cinder: ...

Mercury: ...

Emerald: ...

Cinder and her associates watches as Salem, Evil Incarnate struggled to rise from her perch on the young man's lap, only to stumble and pull the young man from his seat and send them both crashing to the floor... and erupt in a fit of giggles and laughter.

Cinder: Cindy?

Mercury: ...

Emerald: ...

Salem: (hic) you... you... (hic) were... were... um (hic)... um...

????: right? (hic)

Salem: (hic) Yeppers! (hic)

The highly intoxicated pair struggled to their feet, and stood there grinning drunkenly at each other as they weaved, totally ignoring the presence of Cinder, Emerald and Mercury.

Salem: Dances (hic) Jauney? (hic)

Jaune: (hic) Okay! (hic)

Cinder: ...

Emerald: ...

Mercury: ...

The pair vanished into the crowd on the dance floor.

/==/

Seventeen hours later, Cinder and her team were forced to exfil Salem from not only the motel room she had shacked up in, but also Vale's proper. The whole ordeal throwing Cinder's careful preparations out the window.

/== 3 Months Later ==/

Mercury is sitting with Jaune at a "Noodles are Us" stall. The two having become fast friends after the events of that fated night.

Mercury: So how was she when you met her?

Jaune: Sad, lonely. She needed someone to talk to, and cheer her up.

Mercury: Oh... cheer her up? Is that what you kids are calling it?

Jaune: (blushing) I said I was...

The clatter of a something plastic landing on the counter interrupted Jaune's rebuttal. He turned his head and smiled.

Jaune: Cindy! Would you like to...

Cinder said nothing but pointed to the counter and the plastic object she had tossed there. Confused Jaune picked it up... and then fainted.

Cinder: Please pick him up, and bring him with you. We're leaving.

Mercury: Huh? What's going on? What about the plan?

Cinder: Cancelled. Now please pick up the Queen's "Baby-Daddy" and let's get out of here.

Mercury: ...

/==/

Utter & Complete Insanity Story Collection

/==/

A/N So I think I went off the rails here... and missed the mark... but ENJOY!

[ask2ps]

2p Italy and 1p England would be besties. I can see they shit talking people and being a general menace/chaotic evil together. You can see it as ship if you want to, but I like to see it as platonic/found family. Two chaotic evil creatures bonding over the fact that they’re both menaces to society.

/lh /nay

You know, since 2P!Italy goes into the 1P world first, he and 1P!England actually have a LOT of time to interact!

As my mind turns, I consider the following:

Arthur is definitely amused at first by "Feliciano" suddenly acting kind of different. They've never been particularly close, because Feliciano's... (gestures) er, joviality doesn't really settle well with Arthur. He'd appreciate the change of pace with 2P!Italy. Misery loves company, and 2P!Italy is nothing if not miserable.

Of course, it couldn't be too obvious: a fun part of the 2P!Takeover to me is that (with some poor actor exceptions hem hem PRUSSIA hem hem) it's hard to tell who has been taken over and who hasn't. Really fuels into the paranoia later.

In the beginning, I could see them being pals for sure. But I also consider both of them too closed-off and distrusting to really get close to one another. For the following reasons:

2P!England is sure to let each and every nation know that the 1Ps are, like, totally evil** and whatnot. So 2P!Italy isn't interested in getting too attached to "England's Evil Twin." (you see, of course, the joke is that, actually, Oliver is evil or something?) 2P!Italy regards everything that the 1P's do with quiet scrutiny... (except for 1P!Romano, of course, but that's for later.)

2P!Italy also isn't really excited on getting attached to someone who is going to cease to exist soon, overwritten by his ACTUAL Good Friend England. (Yeah, I imagine 2P!Italy and 2P!England are friends. And as we've seen, 2P!England is kind of jealous of his counterpart, and 2P!Italy knows not to get too close for that reason.)

On the other hand, while England initially takes "Feliciano's" changes in stride, that's only because he's the first. When it happens again, and again, and again-- and it finally occurs to the 1Ps that hey maybe something weird is happening? -- it quits being endearing and starts being frightening. So. Friendship over. Not that it ever truly began. For reasons not even related to the 2P!Takeover, he's just a grumpy old man with trust issues and a lot of self loathing. He didn't trust "Feliciano" when he was too nice, why would he trust him when he's getting a sudden mean streak?

TLDR: They could definitely be chaotic friends. In another universe, that friendship might even have some truth to it. But with the circumstances being what they are (2P!Italy is possessing Feliciano's body to help with a plan that will result in Arthur's eventual "death," and on some level Arthur is aware that something is wrong with "Feliciano,") the fun doesn't last long. A very interesting thought nonetheless, and a little bittersweet. Thank you Anon!

[lucy-literates]

Soooooo …. Y/N goes in another country to stay at a friends house (a boy friend) and when she arrived at his place he found out that he “double booked” his guest room and Y/n has to sleep with Arthur leclerc and in the middle of the night she woked up because Arthur was playing with her pussy in his sleep and when she tried to pull his hand out but he woked up then and they start to fuck (you can make the be bratty with each other that day before sleeping together)(extra smut pleaaaaaase)

I love your work I’ve been having this scenario in my mind for a long time ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ hope to read it made by you❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

A/N: OH MY GOD ANON! YES!! I love it. This is beautiful. I had the time of my life writing this. I hope you enjoy it! Inbox is open :)

Double Booked

⚠️ Content Warning: This fic includes explicit sexual content and consensual dynamics involving sleep-touching that escalates into mutual sex with clear awareness and consent. It also includes dominant/submissive tension, name-calling (brat, good girl), and light choking. Please read responsibly.

The moment you arrived at Theo’s house in the French countryside, suitcase in hand and jetlag lingering like a fog, you knew something was off.

Not just the way he scratched the back of his neck nervously, or how he kept glancing toward the hallway—but how he said, “Sooo, tiny change of plans.”

You raised a brow. “What did you do?”

“I might’ve accidentally double-booked the guest room.”

Your arms crossed. “You what?”

“It’s just for a couple nights! I totally forgot Arthur was staying too. His testing got rescheduled—”

You groaned, half-expecting a prank. “So what am I supposed to do? Sleep in the bathtub?”

He gave you an innocent smile that screamed guilt. “You two can share the bed. It’s a queen.”

Arthur appeared in the doorway like he’d been summoned by chaos. Shirtless, smug, curls damp from a shower.

“Salut, bébé,” he said with a smirk. “Miss me?”

You gave him a flat look. “Didn’t know I was about to be spooned against my will by a Ferrari junior driver.”

He winked. “Don’t knock it till you try it.”

By the time you both crawled into the bed, the air was thick with bratty tension.

You stole the side of the bed with the outlet, stole the blanket, and stole his peace when you said, “No hard-ons on my back, Leclerc. I mean it.”

Arthur just laughed, turned off the light, and rolled toward you with zero shame. “No promises, bébé. You smell too good to behave.”

You don’t know what time it is when you wake—only that your thighs are damp, your pulse is thudding, and Arthur’s hand is between your legs.

At first you freeze, unsure if it’s a dream.

But then his fingers move. Lazy and slow, sliding up and down the damp seam of your underwear like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“Arthur,” you whisper, not sure whether to push him away or grind into his hand. “You’re dreaming.”

He hums behind you, still half-asleep, fingers pressing firmer now. He cups you fully, then slides two fingers past your waistband without warning.

“Arthur.” Firmer this time. You grab his wrist to stop him—but his eyes flutter open, and for a second you see nothing but confusion.

Then heat. Then a grin.

“Oh,” he says, voice low and wrecked from sleep. “You’re wet.”

You glare. “You were touching me in your sleep.”

“And you were soaking.” He leans in, lips grazing your neck. “Don’t act like you didn’t like it.”

“I should slap you.” But your voice betrays you—it’s breathy.

“Do it after I make you come.”

He flips you over before you can argue, sliding down the bed so his head is between your thighs, tugging your sleep shorts and underwear off in one smooth pull.

“Open your legs, chérie,” he murmurs. “Don’t make me ask twice.”

You hesitate—half from the shock, half from the fact that your best friend’s house is quiet outside the door—but Arthur slips two fingers along your slick folds, and you gasp, arching into him instinctively.

“There she is,” he grins. “So fuckin’ needy.”

You want to slap him. You also want to ride his face.

He hooks your knees over his shoulders and dives in—his tongue hot and hungry, licking a firm stripe from your entrance to your clit. When you moan, he groans too, like he’s addicted to the taste of you already.

You fist the sheets. “Don’t stop—”

He pulls back just enough to say, “Say please.”

“Fuck off.”

Wrong answer.

He delivers a light smack to your thigh, just enough to make you gasp.

“Try again, princesse.”

You grit your teeth, chest heaving. “Please, Arthur. Please make me come.”

He smiles like you just handed him the key to the city. “Good girl.”

Then he’s back at it, mouth working your clit while two fingers slide deep inside you—crooking, curling, fucking into that spot that makes your hips buck helplessly. Your orgasm builds too fast, too sharp, heat pooling low in your belly like he’s lighting you from the inside out.

But just before you tip over the edge—he stops.

You whine in protest, grabbing his curls, tugging hard. “Why the hell did you—”

“I like when you beg,” he says, voice smug, fingers stroking your inner thigh like he owns you. “Beg again and maybe I’ll let you come.”

“Arthur, I swear to God—”

He cuts you off with his mouth on yours—wet, messy, tasting like you. He grabs your throat with one hand, not tight, just firm enough to make your breath hitch.

“You think I didn’t notice you staring at me all day?” he whispers. “Acting like a brat, talking back, rolling your eyes—” he grinds his hips against you, and fuck, he’s hard, “—you were dying for me to put you in your place.”

He pulls back to look at you—flushed, panting, tangled in the sheets.

“Say you want me.”

“I want you,” you gasp. “Please, Arthur. I need you.”

He doesn’t hesitate.

He lines up and pushes in—slow but deep, burying himself in one steady thrust that knocks the air from your lungs.

Fuck, he’s thick. You claw at his back, choking on a moan as he bottoms out.

He grins against your jaw. “So tight for me, bébé. Like your pussy was made for my cock.”

He starts moving—deep, punishing strokes, each one driving you closer to the edge he’d cruelly denied you earlier. The bed creaks under his pace, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer and a threat all at once.

Your fingers dig into his shoulders. “Harder—please—”

His rhythm falters. “Yeah? You gonna come all over my cock like a good girl?”

“Yes, fuck, yes—”

Arthur reaches between you, rubbing your clit just the way you like—fast, desperate circles that push you over the edge with a cry. Your orgasm crashes through you in a wave, thighs shaking, nails sinking into his skin.

He fucks you through it, growling curses in French against your throat, until he can’t hold back anymore—his thrusts go sloppy, his breath stutters, and he comes hard with your name on his lips, buried deep inside you.

You both lie there, bodies tangled, slick with sweat and heat. The room is quiet except for your breath and the slow calming of your hearts.

Arthur finally speaks, voice low and teasing. “So... do I get the good side of the bed now?”

You smack his chest.

He laughs, pulling you tighter into his arms. “Just saying. If you’re going to sleep next to me with that pretty pussy—this is always going to happen.”

You roll your eyes, already smiling. “Guess I better stay on my side then.”

He kisses your forehead, smug as ever. “Try, mon ange. Try.”

[phantom-of-the-501st]

Arthur's death and the collapse of the gang: How did it impact Charles?

Time for sad(ish) rambles!

Content warning for mentions of alcoholism and death.

A while ago I saw a post on this app from someone who said that Charles grieved Arthur longer than he knew him and while I was aware that that was the case, seeing it so bluntly stated has forever altered my brain chemistry and I have not emotionally recovered since. So now I’m going to go on a ramble and make you guys bear the brunt of that pain with me! (Including you @the-bi-space-ace )

Now as a big Charles fan, I always get excited seeing him again in the epilogue, but there’s always been a part of that story that has stood out to me, and that’s the fact that out of everyone in the gang, one of the people who is hit the hardest by it’s collapse is Charles, a man who had only been a part of it for several months. And in my attempts to understand why, it has always taken me down an interesting exploration of Charles as a character, one that I want to share my ramblings on. Welcome to my TedTalk on the story of Charles Smith.

Charles’ Background

We're gonna start near the beginning because it's important. Charles has not had the best life: his mum was taken when he was young, he lost his mother's tribe which he used to be a part of (and now has no idea if it even still exists), his father turned to drink, and Charles ran away as a young teen, subsequently spending much of his life alone. For over half of his life he's been running as a lone ranger, living as a black Indigenous man in the late 1800s, a time that was far from accepting. He lost everything and as a result, has never really fit in anywhere.

And all of this is the basis for why Charles was hit so hard by the events of the game. It underpins his entire story arc.

We don't know the full details of Charles’ past, but he certainly never had it easy. He's spent his entire life on the end of racist abuse, will have been no stranger to what people thought of him as an afroindegnous man, and has likely experienced many of the awful things that happened to people of colour at the time (and while there's never any confirmation in the game, it isn't entirely out of the realm of possibility that Charles ended up in a reform school at some point in his life).

He would have been treated as an outcast. And part of this plays into why he's so reserved. Charles has to be incredibly careful about who he opens up to and about who he trusts. Even within the gang there are people who view him negatively because of his heritage and so he has to be incredibly careful within the group as well. He lives in a society that deems him as someone that has no place and it is one of the key things that underpins Charles’ struggle to find a sense of belonging.

Charles’ Struggles with Finding a Place in the World

Charles himself admits that he struggles to understand what his purpose is: where he's supposed to be what he's supposed to do. He finds it really difficult to find a place where he fits in. And honestly, it's to be totally expected.

This is a man who has had everything taken from him. His family, his home, his childhood. Charles lost everything. He's someone who had to grow up too quickly in a world that stripped him of every part of his life that gave him any sense of belonging. He has no family, no friends, he's an outcast in society, he can't open up to people out of fear for his own safety. How can a man who lives in a world like that feel like he belongs there?

Charles on the outside seems like someone whose incredibly competent and confident, someone who won't back down in a fight, who will help those who need helping, who isn't afraid to defend those who need defending, and can stay calm in the face of it all. And he is all of those things. But he's also someone who is incredibly lost.

He's incredibly competent, but likely doubts his ability to protect people because of how many people he has lost. He appears confident on the outside and yet he has lived a life where he always has to be looking over his shoulder and be very wary of everyone. He won't back down in a fight but he carries the emotional weight of those choices and actions deep within him. He will always help those who need helping, but likely feels he can never help enough, that there's so much suffering that is entirely out of his control to fix. He'll defend those who need defending but has also found himself defending people he realises he probably never should have (Dutch for example). And he's not calm all the time, he's angry and frustrated and has a short temper but works to keep those emotions under control as much as he can because letting those emotions burst free rarely results in good outcomes.

I've never understood the argument that Charles is emotionless or stoic. He's far from it. He's a man I believe feels very deeply and very strongly, who holds the weight of the world on his shoulders in a way that's far heavier than I think any of us will ever truly understand. He's reserved, keeps many feelings close to his chest. He doesn't wear his heart on his sleeve, but as mentioned earlier, why would he? In a world that has driven him to loneliness, why would he be so open with people?

Finding the Gang

So where does the gang (and in a more focused sense, Arthur) fit in to all of this?

Well, for Charles, this is the first time in many years where he's felt a sense of belonging. No, not everyone welcomed him in with open arms, and he does tend to keep many at arms length with his walls kept firmly up, but he has a purpose, and a group of people who have (to a certain extent) taken him in. The gang is the closest thing Charles has had to a family in a very long time and it likely felt like things were starting to fall into place a little bit. I don't think he ever felt completely comfortable and at home, but it was somewhere for him to belong after spending most of his life being cast out by society. They're a group of people who exist in a world that doesn't want them, and part of that resonates with him because that's what his life has been for so long.

(SIDE NOTE: That's not to say that they're all treated the same way by society. Charles does not share the privileges that many of the other gang members have and as a result has to he more cautious about things than some of the others. For example, Charles is fully aware that Arthur is more likely to be able to have some influence over what happens to the Wapiti Tribe on the basis that he is white and far more likely to be listened to. It will never be an even playing field, no matter how understanding members of the gang may be).

And among all of those is Arthur. I've rambled before about how much these two trust each other and how insane it is in some ways. Arthur became someone Charles trusted enough that he was willing to share his concerns about Dutch with a man who had been raised by him and stood loyal to him for over twenty years. Charles went to Arthur about the Wapiti Tribe because he was the person he trusted most to help. They had each other's backs through incredibly tough times.

“Charles, will you ride with me?”

“Always.”

Despite spending most of his life pushed out by society and living for many years alone, Charles not only had a family, but a close friend he could trust. There were others he grew to care about too: Lenny, Hosea, Sadie, John, Abigail, Jack, just to name a few. Yes he was closer to some than others, but they were still his family in a way. But Arthur was the closest Charles had been to anyone in a long time (as far as we know) and one of the people he had the strongest connection with (in whichever way you view it because I'm not going to try and put labels on it).

Not only was Arthur someone Charles could trust, but he made sure to let Charles know that he was appreciated: letting him know how much the gang needed him, telling him he was glad to have him around, expressing his thanks about Charles having is back. Arthur always made it clear that Charles had a place with them and that was something Charles had not had for much of his life. For someone who has always struggled to work out where he's supposed to be in the world and whether he's even supposed to belong, having someone say “I'm glad you're here and I don't know where we'd be without you” is so important. Through all of it's messes, the gang was Charles’ home.

Which is why it's such a tragedy that it didn't last.

The Collapse of the Gang and a Loss of a Best Friend

Charles, a man struggling to find his place in the world, finds a home ans a family, somewhere where he might finally belong.

And then he loses it all.

Charles’ whole life has felt like the universe telling him he doesn't belong. He lost his mother, his tribe, his father, his home, all by the time he was just thirteen years old. He was alone for years, in a world that never wanted him. And then when be finally finds a place to belong, all of that is taken from him too.

I always wondered why Charles was one of the people who struggled the most after the gang collapsed because he's one of the people who has been there for the shortest amount of time. Many of the others manage to find their way; Tilly got married and was starting a family, Mary-Beth became an author, Pearson found a job at the general store, and John, Abigail and Jack finally started to settle down into a life (we're going to ignore the events of the first game for the time being). And then there's Charles, who is throwing fights for money.

For Charles, the collapse of the gang must have been confirmation that he didn't belong. If he truly had a place in the world then why was everything always being taken from him?

And to lose Arthur in the midst of it all. Charles found someone he could trust, who he could rely on. A man that, despite everything that the group was going through, would hopefully have his back for years to come. Even without the Van der Linde gang, Arthur was likely someone Charles could rely on after it all. But that was never to be.

As I said earlier, Charles has always had to be careful about who he opens up to and who he expresses his emotions and concerns to because the wrong person would weaponise them against him. But Charles found someone he could trust, someone he was willing to share his vulnerabilities with. He began letting his walls down around Arthur only to lose him within just a matter of months. And Charles was the one who buried him.

Think about this for a moment. Charles lost his best friend, made the decision to go all the way back and bury him somewhere he knew Arthur wanted to be (bearing in mind the man has been on top of a mountain for (at least) several days and is going to be in horrendous shape), went through the effort of carving out a proper gravestone for him, and then also makes sure to tell Mary where Arthur was buried so that the people in Arthur's life could mourn him properly and get closure. Charles put himself through what would have been an incredibly traumatic set of events to make sure that this friend got the burial he deserved. I don't even want to imagine how difficult that would have been for him.

(I'm also going to quickly throw in an idea that Noshir himself has mentioned before, which is that Charles’ mother used to sing him lullabies, which he then sung to himself as he buried Arthur. It's a possibility that has broken a piece of me into many pieces that I don't think I will ever put together again but it just encapsulates how tragic this whole experience was).

The collapse of the gang and the loss of Arthur once again left Charles alone in the world, unsure of his place or where to go. A feeling of hopelessness so deep that he was still struggling to find his place in the world eight years later.

Rekindling Old Friendships and New Hope

Thankfully, Charles’ story does not end (as of right now) in complete tragedy. Throughout the epilogue, we begin to see Charles find stability again. Working on John and Abigail's ranch gives him a sense of purpose. He forms stronger friendships with the Marstons, Sadie, and even Uncle, once again giving him people to trust, a place where he feels he has a right to be.

But what I find even more moving is Charles’ acceptance that that isn't where he should stay. His place isn't at the Marston's home, it's out in the world somewhere with his own family. After having everything torn away from him for much of his life, and after being repeatedly thrown out into the world with no clear sense of direction, Charles is finally in a position where he has the agency to make that decision for himself. He takes that step not because he's forced to but because he understands that that is what he needs to do. It's on his own authority and while we don't know exactly what happens to Charles next, seeing him finally have that agency over his life and that understanding of where he needs to go after feeling so lost for so long is honestly the best place I could hope for Charles to be at the end of the game.

I'm sure he thinks about the gang a lot and the people who were a part of his life, even if only for a brief time. Hosea, Lenny, Arthur of course. People who have shaped Charles into who he is now. Do I like to believe that Arthur's unwavering belief in Charles is something that the man holds with him to remind him that he really does have a place in the world? Yes. I do. But I do also think that Charles’ growth is down to much of his own learning, understanding and reconciling. Though only knowing each other a short time, Arthur was an integral piece in the puzzle of Charles’ life.

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Whale Song - Orm Marius X Female Reader

Title: Whale Song

Orm Marius X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Clark (Mentioned), Bruce (Mentioned), Arthur, Damian (Mentioned), Orm's father (Mentioned), and the Justice League (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 5,189

Warnings: Somewhat enemies to lovers, mild cursing, movie canon violence briefly mentioned, post-Aquaman and the Lost Kingdom, during post-credits, italics used, book reference, banter, flirting, teasing, mentioned prejudice, slight angst, and fluff

You were upset. No, more than upset, pissed off. Annoyed. Furious. Normally you would get calls from Clark or Bruce, but never Arthur Curry - Aquaman. As his hologram figure shot out of your watch, you immediately frowned. Only having recently joined the Justice League, Arthur was known for causing a bit of trouble. You were both very different from each other. You were one for talking to people, and he liked using his fists.

But when Arthur called you, it normally meant that he wanted something, needed you to do something for him while he was stuck down in the ocean doing his Kingly duties. All high and mighty. Well, you were fed up. The last time he asked you for something, you were pulled into a small battle, and you owed him twenty bucks - you weren't one to bet, but against Arthur, it was hard to not take part. You loved to see his face when he lost. And he lost most of the time.

But you knew that you were a pretty sensible person to go to when anyone needed anything. You were bright and always mindful. You were brilliant, having gone to Harvard before moving to the big city - Metropolis.

It wasn't long after you found yourself in the company of the world's strongest heroes. With your intellect and specific set of skills, both Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne thought you could be an invaluable member of the Justice League. Though, instead of fighting on the front lines, you would offer advice and wisdom when needed - along with helping the team with the tech that you created. 

So, it didn't come as a surprise when Arthur called you on your 'Super Watch' as you called it, when you made it for you and the team. He came to you when he needed advice, which was a lot. If it had been anyone else, you would've been more than willing to help. But it was Arthur. However, you were willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I need to cash in that favor." He said. There was no greeting - no pleasantries. Just straight to business. Like he usually did when he needed something. 

You rolled your eyes. If only you hadn't asked him to take you to see a Humpback Whale - him with his Kingly Atlantis powers. It had always been a dream of yours, and why wouldn't you take a chance to experience something new and amazing like that? During the time, in awe of the giant Humpback before you, asking for that favor was totally worth it. 

However, at the moment, you didn't want to know what he wanted. There were so many things that he could possibly want. But, it was the weekend. Saturday. Not the day for you to play babysitter for some superpowered superhero. You already had to watch over Damian Wayne. You loved the kid, but you didn’t really think babysitting was your thing. "What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to mask the impatience in your voice. "I have a book I need to get to..."

"I need you to watch over somebody for me." He answered, seemingly aware of your impatience as he continued with a small grin on his face, "I believe that you heard that my brother has joined the surface world. He'll be needing some help adjusting and I think you-"

"Oh, no, no, no," You interrupted, shaking your head as you glared daggers at the hologram before you, "I am not babysitting your murderous brother." You ran a hand through your hair, "Do you know how much damage control I had to do when he tried to kill us surface-dwellers? It took me weeks to fix all that he did - with little help by the way!" You pointed an accusatory finger at him, "I already have a tough time babysitting the supers, I am not babysitting him too."

He sighed heavily. "Look, I know that this is a bit of a big favor-"

You scoffed, "A bit?"

"And I understand that being around new people is not exactly fun for you-"

You couldn't help but roll your eyes again, "Not just that, Art, I am not like you and the other supers. If your brother tries anything, I won't be able to stop him."

"He won't try anything," Arthur grinned, "He's changed, dude. He's not the same as he was over a year ago." 

You nodded, taking another glance at the sky outside your window. "That's good if what you say is true." You agreed hesitantly. "If I am going to do this, and if," You emphasized, letting out a deep breath, "How am I going to find him in the first place? I don't know what he looks like or even where he is. On top of that, I don't even know what his name is."

Arthur gave a small nod. "His name is Orm. I believe he is residing in Metropolis at the moment. For the past couple of weeks, he's been going from city to city, with what little Atlantean money he has left on him. I'll send you a description of his appearance. That'll help, but I think you'll know it's him when you see him."

"Really?" You asked, resting your hand on your hip, "I'll know?" But, Arthur said nothing, only giving you that 'know-it-all' look before hanging up the hologram call. 

Huffing, you dropped your hands, only to raise them to your face and rub your cheeks; overall pretty annoyed. Freezing, you cursed at yourself, forgetting to ask how long you'll be watching over this Orm. 

~~~

Sitting on a small bench, you adjusted your open book, glancing down at the pages. But, instead of reading about a boy and his little sister who fell down a laundry chute and into a strange underground world, you let your eyes wander across the sheet of printer paper that you placed in between the pages. Hiding the fact that you were looking for someone by pretending to read. Your eyes scanned around the page slowly, trying to memorize what Arthur gave you. How could you possibly find this man? Especially with what Arthur had given you to help you find him? Metropolis was huge!

Looking up, your eyes quickly settled on someone in front of you at an outside restaurant, there was a man; tall - seemingly - and blonde; eating a burger. Immediately as your eyes landed on him, you knew. Arthur was right. This was definitely him. 

You suddenly stood, shutting your hardcover book with a snap before walking across the street. Your eyes again locked onto his frame, watching as he continued to chow down on the large burger in his hands. It confused and unnerved you, but the closer you were getting to the man, the more your heart began to race. And it may or may not have been because you thought this Orm was rather attractive. Arthur's family had some good ass genes. 

Before you could even figure out what you were supposed to say, you took a seat across from him; the metal of the chair's legs scraping against the concrete ground sharply. The younger Atlantean prince paused his chewing, his crystal blue eyes staring at you with confusion and obvious caution. You understood that if anyone sat before you while you were trying to enjoy your lunch, you probably would've reacted the same way.

"Hello," You began, immediately inwardly cringing at how awkward your own voice sounded, "Um, I'm Y/N." You watched as he continued chewing, though slowly, his eyes continuing to look over you; still wary. "I'm friends with your brother. He asked me to help you, uh, get used to the surface."

At that, Orm huffed, setting down his burger; annoyed. "I do not need any help." He spoke, his voice firm, but smooth; a shiver ran down your spine. “How did you find me?” Without another word, you pulled the paper from Arthur out of the book, showing it to him. Orm’s eyes widened before narrowing, “Is that supposed to portray me?” He asked, gesturing to the crude drawing of himself - drawn by none other than Arthur himself - you could tell that Orm was not fond of the portrayal at all.

You gave him a deadpanned look, mentally finding this whole interaction very funny - funnily enough. But, you still had work to do. "Listen, I don't really want to do this either. I'd rather be at home reading. But, I owe him a favor and I'm a woman of my word. I understand that you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, but you are technically a fish out of water in this situation. There are going to be things here on the surface that you won't be able to navigate." You let out a breath, rubbing your temple with two fingers, "So please, let me at least help you with a few things that are mandatory for those that live on land."

After a few moments of silence, Orm squared his jaw as he rubbed his hands clean of the burger's grease with a napkin. The silence between the both of you was unnerving and tense, but you fought through it, not wanting to back down. Even though you were rather annoyed by this whole fiasco, you were a good person, and you weren't about to let a guy with an attitude ruin things for himself just because of his pride or whatever.

"Fine." He grumbled finally, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "What must I do then?

"Well," You began, gesturing to the side of his burger where you saw a pair of bug legs sticking out, "We have a lot to cover."

~~~

For the next couple of weeks, you began teaching Orm about the surface world, though he was rather hesitant to follow your instructions. In the beginning, he complained and made small comments here or there, but Orm seemed to have noticed your no-nonsense nature. He didn't complain anymore after another firm talking-to, and you found out afterwards that he was a rather fast learner. He had no consistent place to live, moving from hotel to hotel, you knew he could only do that for so long; plus you knew from experience that some hotels were less than ideal to stay in, especially ones that were located near the center of the city. 

Therefore, you decided that Orm staying in one of your homes, near the shore in California, was a more ideal option for him. And if you were being honest with yourself, you were beginning to enjoy the youngest Atlantean prince's company; far more than Arthur's, that was for sure.

During the time that Orm has been staying in your humble abode, you made sure to keep him up with the latest tech, which was far different than in Atlantis, you were sure. From the toaster, blender, microwave, and even computer, you made sure that Orm had at least some, if not all, basic knowledge on the appliances around the house. As said before, Orm was an incredibly quick learner, having mastered most of everything within a matter of days.

However, what you did not expect was for you to begin to like him.

~~~

It had been a long night. You were sending email after email to some of your closest contacts and employees, making sure that they were keeping your empire afloat all the while you were on your "vacation" away from Metropolis. Some of your employees tried to get you to enjoy your so-called vacation, but it was hard to just not check up on how things were doing. 

It was well past midnight, reading and re-reading past emails, and checking your phone every now and then, waiting for the familiar notification sound to go off signaling a new text message to come through. You frowned as you set your phone down on the desk beside your computer, letting out a sigh. You leaned your elbows on the table, rubbing your eyes with the palms of your hands, tired and absolutely exhausted. 

Standing up, you shut your laptop and headed to the kitchen, quickly making yourself a small cup of tea; praying that it would hopefully help you go to sleep. You silently wandered around your seaside home, faintly hearing the ocean waves crash upon the shore. Taking a small sip of your tea, you hummed as it warmed your throat before pushing the back door open and stepping outside. 

The warm breeze made you smile, as did the smell of the salty ocean a couple hundred feet away from you. It was hard to see it, but you could see the moon reflecting off the waves. Resting your forearms against the wooden railing of the porch, you occasionally sipped your tea while enjoying the quiet.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" The smooth, yet low voice asked, startling you slightly.

Raising a hand to your chest, you let out a deep breath as you swiftly turned to see Orm standing a foot or so behind you; arms clasped behind him. His eyes never met yours, the deep blues staring right back at the raging waves. 

"Of course." You replied softly, as he did, turning to look back at the ocean in question, "It always is."

Orm wandered over, taking the spot next to you before speaking, "Do you enjoy the ocean?" He asked, his question surprising you slightly, but you didn't hesitate to answer.

"Yes." You replied, "Ever since I was a kid." Taking a sip of your tea, you swallowed before continuing, "I always lived in the city. I hardly got to see the ocean, we- my family rarely went to the beach. But that never stopped me from loving it." You shuffled one of your feet, the soul of your slipper slipping against the white wood. Looking up, you finally made eye contact with him, "What about you? I mean, you lived in the ocean most of your life, what's it like?" You asked, your curiosity clear in your tone.

He looked at you, his sharp eyes almost glowing from the moon's rays in the darkness of the night. "It is wonderful." He replied simply, looking back out towards the sea once more. "But, I cannot really describe it; it is not something one can explain simply." You gave a nod, as he shifted uncomfortably in his stance. "You had spoken that helping me acclimate to the surface was a favor owed to Arthur, correct?"

You nodded once more, "Yes, it was," You began, glancing over at him only to see that Orm was already looking at you, "Though, to be perfectly honest, his favor was much bigger than mine was." You chuckled lightly, scratching the back of your neck as you stared into his blue eyes.

He tilted his head curiously, "Is that so?" He questioned, 

"Well, yes-" You bit your lip, shifting in your position as you glanced back at the horizon, "I just asked to see a whale." 

At that, Orm raised an eyebrow, "A whale?"

You hummed in confirmation, "Yep, I just wanted to see a whale. I really like whales. And sharks. But I like whales the most. They sleep upright which is super cool. They are just so fascinating." You gushed, a bright smile slowly spreading onto your face before you cleared your throat, "I mean, you must’ve noticed. I have like ten paintings of whales in there." You finished, gesturing back at the house with a nod of your head, feeling a bit embarrassed by your small rant. Meeting Orm’s gaze once again, you swore that you saw a small smile on his face, but before you could fully confirm it with yourself, he hummed before looking back at the ocean.

"Was it all that you hoped?" He then asked.

"Yeah, definitely. When I was available, he took me to Maine and used his ocean magic to summon a Humpback Whale." The memory of seeing that whale made your chest swell with pride. You smiled as you watched the waves ripple gently across the sand. "When it breached the water, I felt as if I took my first breath. It was the nicest thing Arthur has done for me."

Orm felt a pang in his chest, a wave of jealousy washing over him, making him shift in his stance, his grip on his hand behind his back tightening. For the past month or so, Orm had grown accustomed to being around you, and he had found himself liking you quite a bit despite how much he disliked humans. It wasn't something he'd admit to anyone else aside from himself, but you managed to make him feel a little better, more relaxed, even. And, he actually enjoyed spending time with you. "Does Arthur do nice things for you usually?" Orm inquired, attempting to push down his jealousy.

You shook your head, "Nope, never." You laughed lightly, before placing both hands on the railing, leaning forward slightly, "He usually likes to tease me, you know, joke around. I find him annoying most of the time." You admitted, "But, I should thank him next time I see him in person." You yawned, grabbing your empty cup from the wooden railing with one hand as Orm turned to look at you properly.

"Thank him?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing together ever so slightly as you paused at the back door, your back facing him.

"Yeah." You responded softly, shrugging one shoulder, "If he didn't ask me to help you, I never would've met you." There was silence between the two of you for a few moments until you turned your head to look back over at him, meeting those same deep blue eyes that seemed to stare right into your very soul. You took the moment to let your eyes travel over his handsome features: the light stubble along his jawline, his blonde hair combed perfectly, the softness of his skin, and his lips. You could have stayed longer looking at him, staring at the man who unknowingly caused so much pain in your heart, but you could not allow yourself to continue. Instead, you quickly averted your eyes, clearing your throat awkwardly, "I'm going to head to bed. Goodnight, Orm." You said before ducking back inside.

"Goodnight, Y/N." Orm muttered, his voice low as he stared at the back door, where your figure had disappeared into, his blue eyes lingering on the door for a moment before he sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. It wasn't long until he looked back at the crashing ocean, his eyebrows furrowed. 

When Orm found himself living with you at your beach house, he did his best to keep his distance, avoiding you as much as he could when you weren't trying to teach him the ways of the surface-dwellers. His stubbornness was also partly due to the fact that he was brought up in such a way to hate surface-dwellers; to despise them as a whole, and everything they stood for. But, even still, he couldn't bring himself to truly dislike you. Despite the nagging of his father's words echoing in his mind whenever he was close to you. He felt... something towards you. Something different; something new.

~~~

The next morning, you were up bright and early, heading downstairs to grab yourself a cup of coffee. Humming a soft, upbeat tune, you shimmied around the kitchen as you poured yourself some coffee; adding cream and sugar.

Glancing around the kitchen, and tilting your body to the side to peer into the dining room, your humming came to a stop. Usually, at the time that you came down for coffee, Orm had already figured out how to make his breakfast. Which usually consisted of eggs, bacon, and tea. 

Frowning, you furrowed your eyebrows, glancing at the clock on the wall before finishing up stirring your tea. Grabbing the warm mug into your dominant hand, you pulled the edges of your cardigan closer around you; the mornings were always so chilly, being so close to the ocean and all. 

Stepping out onto the back porch, you paused. There was Orm, leaning against the wooden beam of your railing - just as he did the night before. He was dressed for the day, in the Surface-Dweller attire you helped him buy. Sometimes, it was hard to believe that he wasn't from the surface world, he fit in so perfectly. His forearms were resting against the railing, slightly bent at the hip, his stormy blue eyes staring off into the crashing waves of the ocean only a couple of mere hundred feet in front of him. You leaned against the doorframe, worrying on your bottom lip. He must have missed his home - Atlantis - you knew that he did. You couldn’t imagine leaving your home, being forced to never return, in fear of imprisonment or even death. Even though you and Orm had a pretty rough beginning, your heart broke for him. 

Your mind raced with possible ideas of how to try and cheer him up, your eyes flickering down at the wooden porch floorboard, spotting bits of sand sprinkled around here and there from your many adventures from the shore. You allowed your gaze to flicker back to the Atlantean man, studying the contours of the side of his face closely, taking in every detail. His brows furrowed tightly together, his lips slightly pursed in deep thought. He was so... Beautiful. Especially as the morning sun filtered into his hair, shining upon the blonde strands, causing them to appear almost white. 

You blinked for a moment, shaking your head slightly as you focused back on trying to come up with an idea to cheer the man up. And then, it hit you. A surge of excitement rushed through you, making your skin buzz slightly at just the idea. Making yourself known, you walked over, taking your place beside him as he had done last night for you. 

"Hey," You spoke up softly, setting your mug down on the railing, your fingers curling around the ceramic; warming them. "Good morning."

Orm turned his head, his gaze landing on yours before he returned his attention to the ocean, "Good morning."

You sighed, turning your gaze to stare at the ocean yourself, shuffling one of your socked feet against the wooden floorboards. "Have you eaten?" You breathed out, raising your cup to take a sip.

"Yes," Orm muttered, glancing at you briefly, "And you?"

You shook your head slightly, taking another sip, "No," You spoke against the rim of your mug, "I have not yet." You suddenly felt nervous, as the words that you had wished to say slithered on the tip of your tongue. "I was wondering if you'd like to go on an adventure with me?" You asked, turning your head to look back up at him, his eyes meeting yours. 

"An adventure?" He repeated, raising a single eyebrow.

You nodded, unable to stop a smile from spreading on your face, "Yeah, well, I was thinking, you've been cooped up in this house for far too long." You placed your mug aside, turning your body to face him, your eyes bright. "So..." You trailed off, tilting your head to the side a bit - trying to read him, he seemed curious. "What'd ya say?"

"Where is it that you would like to take me?" He asked then, sounding curious and yet, hesitant. 

"It's a surprise." You answered quickly - your excitement obvious - before grabbing your mug and speeding back inside. Pausing at the door, you braced your hand against the doorframe, looking back over at him. "You'll love it. I swear."

~~~

"May I open my eyes now?" Orm asked as you helped him out of your car, his hand covering his eyes, as you had asked him to do. From stepping out of the car, Orm could feel the difference in the air; it was warmer out, and he could still smell the salt of the ocean. And yet, he had no idea where you were taking him. 

"No yet," Orm felt you take his other unoccupied arm, your two hands intertwining as you led him away from your parked car towards what he assumed was the entrance of something.

Orm hummed, the hand over his eyes twitching slightly from the urge to just look, "You are not leading me to my death, are you?" He asked, his tone laced with amusement.

"Hmm, no." You played along as you pulled open one of the double doors, leading him inside, "I wouldn't have you stay with me, for almost four months, just to take you to some secondary location to kill you." Your words made Orm chuckle as you began to drag him further into whatever mysterious place you had taken him to.

As Orm followed blindly beside you, he tried to tighten his hearing, seeing if he could pick up anything around him. For the most part, he didn't hear any signs that anyone else might be around. As far as he could tell, it was only the two of you. He couldn't help but wonder, why the sudden trip? With a gentle tug, he felt you come to a stop, one of your hands dropping from his arm. 

"Okay," You breathed out, "You can look now." Dropping his hand, Orm blinked his eyes rapidly, before they widened. So... This was where you were taking him. An aquarium. The water from the aquarium tunnel reflected on the walls in a kaleidoscope effect, tinting in stunning blues and greens. Fish, some sharks, and even a few stingrays of all species swam about everywhere. The underwater tunnel gave off a soothing atmosphere, as if the water itself was saying; 'Welcome.' His eyes followed the graceful movements of the sea creatures above, his ocean-blue eyes flickering from fish to fish, his lips parted slightly. You broke your gaze from the tunnel, turning to look up at Orm, your smile slowly dropping as you took notice of the expression on his face. It was hard to decipher it, your mind beginning to overwhelm you with 'what ifs' and terrible doubts. "Do you not like it?" You asked softly, your voice filled with uncertainty. Orm swallowed hard, but you continued, "I mean, of course, you might hate it." You began to ramble, running a hand through your hair, looking anywhere else but at him, "I mean, this is technically like a prison for fish. But, I assure you, I practically built this aquarium - all the fish have all the food they could possibly want, all the space-" Orm looked down at you, watching as you continued to stumble over your words, “I know you must have been feeling homesick, and I know you can't really go into the ocean, so I thought that you might like it here-”

“Y/N.” He finally spoke, interrupting your rant, “Thank you.” The words seemed to have easily slid off his tongue, his eyes softening as you stared up at him with those eyes of yours. 

“So, I haven't upset you?” You asked, pulling your bottom lip under your teeth once more. 

Orm shook his head, reaching up with his hand, his thumb gently brushed against your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth, freeing it; you felt your cheeks heat at the touch, your eyes fluttering momentarily as the warmth of his finger pressed against your bottom lip. “You have not upset me.” Orm tried to reassure you, giving you that smile of his that made your heart flutter. “In fact, this must be the best surprise I have ever received.” 

“Really?” Your eyes lit up, your smile growing, and at Orm's nod, you sighed, “Wow…” Turning back to look at the fish swimming in the large aquarium glass around you, you spoke once more. “Beautiful, isn't it?” You mimicked his own words from two days prior.

"Yes," Orm muttered, "Very beautiful…” 

Looking up at him, you were surprised to find Orm already looking down at you. You felt your breath hitch, again, unable to look away as his eyes bore down into yours with such intensity. His eyebrows furrowed slightly, a faint crease appearing on his forehead. The air around you grew thick, and it wasn't until Orm reached out, cupping your cheek with one hand, that you finally realized just how much closer your faces were than usual. And yet, you did nothing to pull back. Instead, you simply held your breath, your gaze locked onto his, as his thumb ran along your cheek, his fingers tangling themselves in your hair slightly, drawing you closer to him.

His brows furrowed deeper, his eyes darkening slightly as he gazed down at you. His lips parted slightly, a breath leaving him, before he leaned forward; his lips barely brushing against yours. Slowly, hesitantly, he closed the distance between the two of you. Your eyes fluttered shut as his hand slid down from your cheek to cradle your neck, keeping you close. Your arms wrapped around his middle, your fingers gripping tightly at the fabric of his sweater - you never wanted this moment to end.

The kiss lasted mere moments before you both pulled apart, unable to stop yourselves from smiling at each other. Orm felt an immense sense of happiness overtake him as his blue eyes met yours, his cheeks tinted a soft pink. "Arthur was right," He said - mentally hating the words that seemed to slip so easily from his lips - his hand moved to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb grazing across the shell of your ear.

You couldn't help but let out a small chuckle, raising one hand to press his palm into your cheek, "Arthur was right about what?" You narrowed your eyes playfully, "He's hardly right about anything."

Orm let out a deep sigh, silently agreeing with you, "The surface world is not as terrible as I always believed and was told." He smiled down at you, his hand falling from your cheek to take your hand in his, "You have proven that. As well as Arthur.” You tilted your head to the side lightly, letting out another laugh before shaking your head; Orm's smile quickly turned into a small, anxious frown, "Don't tell Arthur I said that."

"I won't." You promised, your eyes crinkling as you laughed out your words, "He wouldn't shut up about it if I did." Orm chuckled as he nodded his head as you interlaced your fingers with his, "So..." You trailed off, "Do you want to see the rest of the aquarium? I rented it out for the next two hours. So, we got the whole place to ourselves." You waved your free hand in the air, gesturing to the long empty tunnel that led the way to the rest of the aquarium.

"Lead the way." Orm smiled, squeezing your hand in his own gently as he allowed himself to be guided by you; he would follow you wherever you went.

---

Main Masterlist | DC Masterlist

[mysticsublimeperson]

Part 1 >>

Merlin was disappointed, but mostly at himself. He always knew that Arthur would never actually be in a relationship with him, he will humor Merlin sure, he would tell people as long as they didn’t know Uther, and there weren’t risks of his father finding out, he would say that he loved Merlin but then did shit like this all the time. He would cancel plans and dates, and once even a week long trip that they had planned in favor of his father, and his company. Sometimes he would even cancel Merlin to have a date with one of the girls that Uther threw his way.

Usually it didn’t bother him that much, of course it hurt but he had known Arthur for most of their lives, they had been friends before… whatever they were now, he had always been like this and Merlin had always permitted it. He guess he never thought about asking for a change before, so that’s also his fault.

But he had been trying, it was sad enough when Arthur missed his birthday dinner Merlin had cooked, because his father had booked a flight to France, but he could understand it, it was his birthday, it was normal to spend it with one’s family. He made a point to tell him, tell him he was sad about this stuff, tell him when a plan was important to him, tell him when his words were too harsh or hurtful. It usually didn’t stick, they were to used to say shit jokingly but a few things he did, and he’ll try his best to keep his promises unless Uther was in the picture.

He knew the situation with his father was tense at best, Arthur had always fought for his approval, and, aware or not, that was still his primary concern. He knew he had no right to get between their relationship, and knew he would be losing that battle before it began. He didn’t doubt Arthur’s feelings for him, but he could not help but doubt whether they were worth fighting for in his mind. In the end Merlin had always been there, he had always been prone to forgiveness, because he cared for Arthur above all, in the moment he didn’t really notice but in retrospect he really didn’t put much of a fight.

But he had done it this time. He had made sure his voice was heard. He had said that this night was important to him, he had made sure to tell him to save the date in advance and to explain several times what this night was about and what was important to him. He made sure Arthur knew the date, the time, the place, the dress code and the reason.

Merlin was excited.

His organization and research were going to be awarded, and if it all went well he may end the night with the funding necessary to keep the NGO going and even maybe expand some projects.

But then Arthur had wrote, “my father is in town” and then a couple of minutes later “sorry”

When Uther was in town, that meant that night he had to have a dinner with his children, a boring and stuffy dinner in a top restaurant to expensive for Merlin to even look at, and sometime he invited the daughters of some friend of his just for them to get to know each other.

He breathed slowly, looking at the message, here in front of the theater where the Gala was going to take place, dressed up all fancy. Trying to decide how to convey in a text message all the things that he was feeling.

He was going to be awarded, celebrated god damn it. It was unfair, it was terribly unfair for Arthur to do this just before the Gala, he was supposed to be happy and now he only wanted to go home.

He had wanted to share this moment with him and maybe He had also hoped to show off a little, Arthur was a very important person by definition. Maybe he had wanted to show Arthur that Merlin also had value.

But none of that mattered now.

He had gone to the Gala, alone. Regretting the moment he decided to invite Arthur instead of Gwen, he had put a smile on his face and turned off his phone, he had drunk Champagne and eating those mini tart of savory food with strange textures and tried to enjoy the evening with his colleagues. He had gone up the stage a grand total of three times, one to present, the other two to receive the great honor that were those awards. He had smiled, and changed the speech on the go to not mention “one special more than a friend” he had answered the questions of the reporters and declined the offer of his colleagues to extend the evening.

And now he was there. In a bench in a park eating a Kebap in a too-fancy-for-this place suit, next to a fancy bag, which contained two fancy boxes of two really important awards, while questioning his relationship.

He had seen cases like this all the time, he dedicated his life to help people in this kinds of situations, more or less, his relationship wasn’t dangerous of violent, and he was very much independent but the root of the problem was the same. The relationship was destined for failure.

They clearly wanted different things.

They had different ideologies, and priorities.

It was a disaster waiting to happen.

But it hurts so much.

He was freezing, but he still ordered another Kebap, he hadn’t been able to eat because of the nerves all day and it was catching with him.

He needed to make a decision.

He couldn’t keep going like this.

This was supposed to be a happy night.

He walked up to his flat, quietly thinking to find Arthur sitting in front of his door.

“Where were you?” Arthur accused upon seen him.

Merlin let his eyebrows go up. Trying to remember that it was early in the morning, and his neighbors were sleeping.

“Shit, sorry… it’s just… I been calling you and…”

“Get away from the door Arthur” he let the voice come out angry but he didn’t really want to talk right now.

“Of course, yeah, sorry” If this were any other situation, Merlin would had joked about the fact that Arthur never tended to say sorry, but right now that made him rather sad.

He opened the door and walked inside, and blocked the way when Arthur tried to do the same, just letting his tired expression do the job, he was way too tired and he had eaten two Kebap in a shop open at 2 am, and was starting to regret it.

“Merlin, I… Look I know today… I am sorry Merlin, it was a shit show at work, and my father came at the worst possible moment and…” he said trying to coax his way into the flat, but Merlin didn’t move “Can I enter? I think we need to talk… I need to apologize properly and explain my self and…”

“No” he stoped the Arthur’s babbling “It’s been a rather long day, and I want to rest” his voice was maybe a bit too loud and hard “and I don’t wanna talk right now” he added honestly.

“Ok.. yeah, I understand” he clearly didn’t, but at least was trying to or having a stroke, either way not Merlin problem right now. “Can I..?”

“Go home Arthur” Merlin stopped Arthur again.

“I hoped this was it” Arthur said sharp. And Merlin didn’t have the fight to shout all the shit he wanted to say.

“Not while your father is in town”

Merlin closed the door. He stunned Arthur enough to do it without a fight. And he could only hope that he had the common decency to not bring his door down at four in the morning. He had wanted to do a lot, but he was way to tired, physically and emotionally so he just laid off the bed and slept.