#king arthur fanfic

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!  

a/n: sorry my posting is outta whack, I’m in a hotel without a laptop charger so I’m doing my best✌🏼

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ  

SFW🌿

・You were not royalty. 

・Nor were you a princess/prince...

・You were what some called a privateer, and others... well, they just called you a pirate.

・But you didn’t care what they called you, as long as said people didn’t notice their valuables were missing

・Arthur thought he knew chaos, he was pretty chaotic himself. He was used to it, he grew up with it. Chaos was embedded into his very blood. 

・Yeah, and then he met you. 

・Maybe you felt safe to him; as if you reminded him of home, of his childhood. 

・But you were a hindrance to his trading on the seas, especially through certain ports; where you liked to plunder the most. 

・And King Arthur knew he had to do something about that. 

・He didn’t think it would end in a betrothal. 

・Well, when he first met you - that was the furthest concept from his mind. The first was anger, then impressed, mixed with a hint of jealousy. You had your freedom. 

・And although Arthur wouldn’t trade his position for the world, he did miss his freedom. 

・But leadership was in Arthur’s blood, so jealousy soon dissipated with responsibility taking its place

・You were an odd couple, well you still are. And many people question why the King would betroth himself to a criminal

・But your betrothal initially wasn’t about love- it was to unite your world with his, so that those seas were safe and other pirates would see Arthur as trustworthy

・So basically he’s marrying you for everyone’s peace 

・And then there was love. It peaked its head around the corner and then all at once, smothered the two of you. 

・Your love can feel overwhelming, and yet, it was something that you never wanted to lose

・You weren’t used to having such a secure person in your life. Someone who was bound to you, who would never leave you. 

・He proposed the idea the 4th time you met. On the first meeting, you nearly killed him. And on the second, he stormed off your ship. Something happened on the third that you couldn’t understand. And on the fourth ... well ... here you are

・You moved into the castle, although many of your belongings were still on your ship. Arthur swore to never take anything away from you, to never belittle you or take away your freedom. 

・In all honesty, you felt as if you had hit some kind of jackpot. And maybe you did feel a bit like a traitor for betrothing yourself to a King, but that meant extra protection for you and your crew. 

・You wear a (insert your favourite gem: ruby, emerald, sapphire, diamond, opal etc,) ring on your left-hand ring finger, which signifies your engagement to the King

・You already sleep in the same bed; with Arthur usually being the first to wake each morning. 

・He likes to kiss your forehead while you sleep

・You wear his clothes, and he loves it 

・And you’ve taken him sailing on your Frigate ship

・Your crew was wary of Arthur at first - they didn’t know what to expect, well they were expecting to be jailed for piracy. But Arthur’s motto has wrung true,:  “Why have enemies when you can have friends?”

Relationship Tropes: 

  Dumbass x Oh God I Guess That’s My Dumbass

Arthur: “Y/N NO!”  You: Y/N YES!!!” 

⸻

Arthur: Put it back

You: But -

Arthur: Put. It. Back.

Crazy Anti-Hero (You) x Hero Maintaining Their Partner Is On The Good Side (Arthur)

Troublemaker (You) x YOU DO YOU KEEP GETTING IN TROUBLE!? (Arthur)

[pendragonsclotpole]

question for my fellow merthur compatriots, i recently started reading a merlin canon fix-it where merlin’s modern name was emrys hunithson, and like i love that name, touching, meaningful. but that and another post on this website has me thinking about the lovely alternatives merlin might use as his name in a modern world.

like yeah, he could go by merlin emrys, merlin hunithson, emrys hunithson

but imagine if he took up the last name pendragon.

1500 years pass and merlin’s traveling the world as merlin pendragon, as emrys pendragon or better yet

ambrose pendragon.

merlin signs all his contracts and credit card receipts with the name a. pendragon.

arthur and the rest of the roundtable + gwen + morgana return but can’t find merlin. WHY?

because they’re looking for the wrong name.

[regulusrules]

So merlin is trending, huh? Here are 5 fics you should read about those immortal idiots

1. and it will set you free series by @andiwriteordie. Arguably my favourite fix-it from so, so long. The way the author introspected about their entire lifetime was unbelievably powerful. And the way they gave Arthur agency to have had a say in the whole "destiny" debacle from the very beginning.. oh my. So creative and so incredibly loving. Honestly, all of this author's works are works of art and it's a crime against the fandom how very underrated they are.

2. Smile and Pretend by Fulgance. Yes fine I know I can't keep on recommending this author's Beauty in the Ashes of Our Lives every time I get the chance. But really, this one was just as amazing. My soft heart flutters for any and all Arthur-Finds-Out fics. Especially those where he lets Merlin come to him with it instead. aaaah. This fic is definitely one of the top tiers of the category.

3. To you I swear my solemn oaths by @regulusrules. Again, yes I know I should stop flouncing around My heart is readily yours every time I get the chance. It's my hyperfixation on fics that hyperfixate over Arthur, forgive me. TYISMSO was my first ever fic in the fandom, and I always look back at it with pride of how much faith I tried to breathe between them. They were in love, your honour. God I love those two idiots so much.

4. Fathom Me Out by @supercalvin. I don't know about you, but to me this is a requirement for our fandom. If you haven't read this fic, you haven't read anything. It is absolute brilliance— in writing, in the plot, in their characterization.. absolutely everything.

5. Still I Surface in Morning Light by @queerofthedagger. Scar reveal, but make it so good that you never stop thinking about it. I can hands-down say it's one of the best scar reveal fics I've read in this fandom. It's so intricately written and their conversations are otherworldly. The despair and love you see here.. a masterpiece.

[bellastepa]

God i LOVE men in pain and his personal mental breakdown

[flight-of-fantasy]

People when they see BBC Merlin and Merthur are still performing well on lists of TV shows and popular ships in 2022

[gaiussleechtank]

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

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

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

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

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

How could he when Merlin was everything that he loved?

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

“Merlin?” Arthur broke their silence.

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

“I’m in love with you.” Oh, fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Merlin swallows and seemed to choke back tears.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t.”

He froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[georgies-ftts]

I love the CourtSorcerer!Merlin depictions where he’s wearing deep blue regal robes that fit him perfectly with dark trousers and leather boots that aren’t falling apart and his hair is longer and bushy and crowns his head perfectly

and Arthur believes he’s is a god sent to him by some omnipotent power and looks at him like he’s his entire world but still treats him as if he is the lanky manservant that he met all those years ago but the moment they are alone together he worships the ground that Merlin walks on and let’s his emotions fall from his face like a rain because he knows that Merlin, no matter what, can always tell what’s going through his mind

And Arthur gives Merlin a crown of silver that matches his robes perfectly, and the crown is a laurel that circles his hair and doesn’t meet in the front so his hair protrudes out and Arthur wants to play with the strands but he holds himself back and only stares because that’s all he can do without reaching his hand out to do something that the court would definitely shun him for later on

and Arthur watches as Merlin’s eyes glow molten gold and he declares it as his favourite colour and Arthur allows himself to see Merlin as he truly his, the other half of the same coin, half of his soul, his sorcerer. The man that waltz into camelot all those years ago and challenged him with gusto, the one that stood by his side through every challenge, every battle, that saved his life countless times without ever seeking any form of appraisal and Arthur stands in awe as Merlin’s power throttles onwards and Arthur let’s it happen with a smile ghosting his face because his Merlin, despite everything he was taught to believe, would never ever hurt him and now i’m just writing my own fanfiction from everything that i love but i devour it every. single. time.

[creepslayer7]

Ghost King and King of Atlantis: Best of Buds

I think that ghost king Danny phantom and arthur curry (especially the Jason mamoa version) would be best buds immediately upon meeting and would always complain about their duties/’coworkers’ / and king stuff

They would also slack off together all the time lol

Both: Half human(tho different circumstances)

Suddenly kings

One foot in the human realm/surface and each of their own worlds(Atlantis, the ghost zone)

Think kings stuff is boring/stuffy

Bond over crude language and insulting stuck ups that the other rulers (Diana, Orm,ect) judge them for

Would much rather just float around in quite away from responsibilities/spend time in humans world/on the surface

Probably the only two royalty that went to highschool (Kor'i, Diana, Orm, Mera, Hawkman, ect) idk if hawkman is royalty tho 🤷‍♀️

I also really like the thought that they need to spend time nurturing both their halves

Ie. They can't spend 100% of their time with the humans or in the sea/ghost zone cuz that hurts them but they also can't stay away from the humans or their other worlds for the same reason

Both love cheese burgers and wish their respective other worlds had them

[moonyplatt]

And like the cycle of the year, we begin again ~ Mini comic (part 1)

Hi !! I finally come with the promised comic 😁 I started it several months ago, and although there have been days when I haven't known how to move forward, I have had a lot of support from @ineffablesbooks GRACIAS AMIGA!! We are both big fans of Merlin and especially of the INCREDIBLE fanfic that @katherynefromphilly wrote. I don't know what I would have done after finishing s5 without this story, so thank you so much, I love how you write Merlin and Arthur. Anyway, I hope you like this comic as much as I liked doing it. Stay tone, because this is only the first part!! So in a few days there will be part 2, I also don't rule out making more mini comics of other scenes in the future, so wait for it, I hope you like it and enjoy it!!

[whydon-twego]

Merlin is expressing his displeasure so that the whole castle can hear him while Arthur lies in bed and rolls his eyes because the situation seems truly ridiculous to him.

"You are an idiot! An imbecile! A dollop-head! What the hell were you thinking of-?"

"Merlin, really, do we have to discuss this much longer? As you can see I'm perfectly fine."

Merlin's eyes go golden for a few seconds and Arthur rolls his eyes but shuts his mouth.

"Perfectly fine? You don't look perfectly fine to me because your side is bleeding and I just pulled an arrow out of it!"

Arthur wants to retort that in all the years of their acquaintance he has suffered far worse and that, really, he is fine but Merlin does not allow him to open his mouth.

"It could have been a poisoned arrow. It could have hit you in the stomach and then what would we have done, huh? It could have been a cursed arrow and you could have suffered for days while I tried to figure out how to cure you. Where the hell did you get the idea of putting yourself between me and a damn arrow?!"

Arthur is unimpressed by that speech and lies better in bed because he knows his court sorcerer won't let him go anywhere, at least not that day. "It could have been anything but in the end, it was a very normal arrow," Merlin is about to interrupt him but Arthur doesn't give him time "and even if it had been any of those things you listed it wouldn't have changed anything. I don't care if you are the most powerful sorcerer to ever walk the face of the earth, Merlin, before all this you are my friend and if I see you are in danger I will do everything in my power to save you"

Merlin tightens his lips and lowers his eyes to Arthur's wound as he runs a medicated cream of some kind over it.

"It's because you're an idiot, that's why," Merlin's voice is a bit broken as he tries not to start sobbing because he doesn't want to hear that he's such a girl from Arthur, not at this moment.

But his king apparently really is an idiot.

A brave, stupid, loyal, dollop-head, altruistic idiot.

Merlin could never have hoped for a better King. Or friend.

[author-morgan]

Title: Daylight Rating: M Pairing: Arthur x fem!Reader Summary: Arthur always knew you and he would make a fine match. ...hiding all of our sins from the daylight... I've now collected all(?) your husbands for my infinity gauntlets. a late merry christmas and an early valentines for you boo. @mrsragnarlodbrok.

“SORRY,” ARTHUR MUTTERS, “hands are rough.” He noticed how you pulled away from his calloused touch as he pressed the stained damp cloth against the bloody wound on the back of your shoulder—remnants of an arrow after Bedivere and the Mage helped him dig out the bodkin point. It’d likely been meant for him in the heat of the battle and he cursed himself seeing you fall nigh feet from him, pulled away to shelter by his kingsguard. Even with the power of Excalibur, he’d been unable to protect you—an age-old promise broken.

You lift your gaze from the charred stone floor, looking at your reflections in a fogged-over mirror on the opposite side of the room. Focus has his brows furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line. “You always say that,” you tell him, words slurred from the pain, exhaustion, and strongwine, and voice rougher than normal. This isn’t the first time Arthur Pendragon has tended your hurts and woes, and at this rate you doubt it’ll be the last.

Dried blood and sweat washed away, Arthur picks up the piece of tree bark with a salve prepared by the Mage to stave off the pain for a while and keep the wound from festering. Then, Arthur binds the wound with fresh linen and wipes his hands, kneeling in front of you—hands resting on your hips. You lay your hand on his cheek, thumb sweeping across his cheek, marred with dirt and soot. Leaning toward him, he meets you halfway, and you set your lips on his—a soft, fleeting kiss like the touch of butterfly wings.

“Thank you, Arthur,” you tell him, fingertips mindlessly combing through the scruff on his jaw. He straightens to full height but does so with a grimace. “You’re sure you’re not hurt?” You ask again.

“Just bruises,” he assures you, and this time, it seems like he’s being truthful, besides the few scratches on his hands and the slim, already scabbed-over, cut on his forehead. 

Arthur sits next to you on the edge of the bed, looking toward the open balcony. You both can hear the joyous shouts and chants. Bedivere and the others will only be able to satiate the men for so long. They will want to hear from the one who led them to victory. From the Born King. “They’ll be waiting for you to give a speech,” you tell him. 

“They’re waiting to go headfirst into the barrels of grog,” he amends, but if the out-of-tune songs are anything to go off of...  

“Sounds like they already have,” you laugh. Tonight, there will be revelries for the victory against Vortigern and his forces. In the following days, there’ll be feasts to honor the fallen and growing lists of preparations for a coronation. But right now, Arthur Pendragon doesn’t want to be a king just yet. Right now, he’s content just to be Arthur the street rat, especially when you lean your head against his shoulder and link your fingers through his—and then he’s certain there’s no one else in all of England for him except you.

“HIDING FROM ME? Or everyone else?” Your head quickly swivels to the side, only to relax at the sight of Arthur approaching. You cannot help but wonder how he isn’t cold. He's not dressed anywhere near as layered or warm as he should be for the winter evening, but somehow, he manages to look cozy even in just a scarlet linen-and-wool doublet. Stepping back, your eyes flit up to the scarlet-tinged leaves, still clinging to the branches of the white-bark birch, before looking beyond to the fresh falling snow. 

He stops at your side and looks up, too. “Was just thinking about what a bad influence you’ve been on my person,” you tell him, a small half-smirk creeping onto your features. Arthur tilts his head back in amused question, then stares up at the leaves and the silver sliver of the moon peeking through the winter clouds. “As I recall, I was an innocent girl before you came along and ruined all that.”

His blue eyes narrow, arms crossing over his chest. “You’ll have to refresh my memory on how I did that, darlin’.” He moves a little closer, and you sense his ploy, twisting and ducking when he moves to grab you. 

You face him with brows raised, smiling. “Such a brute,” you taunt, “grabbing at innocent girls in the castle courtyards at night. Is that any way for the King of England to behave?” 

Arthur only rolls his eyes, trying to smother another smirk, and this time, he catches your arm as you move around him. It takes little strength to move you how he wants—pressing you into the trunk of the great tree at the heart of the courtyard. His hands press against the smooth bark beside your head as he leans in enough to look down at you. The glint in his eyes is mirthful, but there’s something else shining in his gaze too—you’ve seen that look a dozen times now, and you’re almost afeared to think about what it can mean. “Maybe you have a point,” he drawls, wearing that crooked, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter.

Your laugh almost catches him off guard. His hand slips down to run gently along your waist, the other toys with the hair at the side of your head. You lean back into the tree more, relaxing as your hands find his waist to rest on. “My father sends his kind, innocent daughter to study in Londinium, and what does this strong, noble boy do?” Arthur raises his brow. “He shoves her against a wall in an alleyway because he has no reasonable way of expressing his feelings with words.” He was just a street rat orphan and you were the daughter of some fancy lord from far away—opposites in nigh every way but more alike than you ever could have imagined. “I was never the same after that.”

His head dips down into the crook of your neck, nose training across your throat and inhaling the scent of roses and lavender. “No,” he smiles, voice low—more of a muttering husk—lips twitching as he pulls back, glancing to your lips and up, “but you’re more fun now.” Your expression falls flat, and Arthur laughs. It’s nigh impossible not to grin or melt at the sound and how little it seems you’ve heard it of late—and by Merlin’s beard, he’s impossibly handsome with laugh lines crinkling the edges of his eyes and a lopsided smile. Leaning further into him, his breath dances across your cheek, the back of his fingers brushing along your neck. 

You exhale shakily, and Arthur teases you again with light presses of his lips along your jaw and neck—hands smoothing up and down your waist as he does. For a moment, your hands find their way to his chest before you remember how open the courtyard is and that anyone can happen upon the two of you like this. Glancing around, you breathe his name in a flustered whisper, hand pressing against his chest—the last thing a new king needs is rumors to turn into scandal. 

Arthur takes a step back, giving you both room, but then there’s a new glint in his eyes. The playful mirth disappears from his cornflower eyes, replaced by something more serious—kingly, even. It’s something he’s been thinking about for years. Maybe even since the two of you first met by happenstance in the streets of Londinium and struck up an odd friendship. But over the years, Arthur thinks he cannot just call you a friend, not anymore. What he feels runs deeper than that, and given his newfound title and responsibilities...“I’ve been thinking,” he starts.

“And does it pay well?” You quip in a poor attempt to lighten the now solemn mood.

He rolls his eyes, exasperated, unable to hide how his lips quirk upwards. “Would you let me finish?” And so you do, unsure what he must say or ask that warrants such a dramatic change in his usual demeanor. Arthur reaches for your hand, the rough pads of his fingers curling around and into your palm. He stoops forward, lips brushing against your knuckles—reverent. “I’d like you to stay,” he breathes, straightening back to full height. Your brows furrow. “Here,” he adds, “with me.”

You know what he is asking of you—marriage—and it should be an easy answer. Yes, of course. You’ve loved Arthur since before you knew what the word truly meant. But given the events of the last few months and the precipitousness of his proposal, you’re left speechless, heart beating in your throat until all you can do is run to the haven of your chambers with tears pricking your eyes.

A LOUD KNOCK on the great wooden door echoes in your bedchambers. You rouse from sleep, righting the oversized tunic hanging off one shoulder in an attempt to appear decent at the late hour. Part of you already knows who will be waiting on the other side, but when you crack open the door, it still surprises you to find him standing before you—wearing only a loose, nigh threadbare tunic and pair of dark britches. “Arthur,” you greet, rubbing the sleep from your eyes before motioning for him to come in.

There’s still an uneasy air between you after the earlier events and conversation in the courtyard—his proposal. “I shouldn’t’ve….” he starts as you do. “I should not...” You both fall silent, eyes searching the other’s face for an indication of who will be the first to speak, the first to act, but there’s only silence. 

“Yes,” you quickly tell him—the shock of his initial proposal has faded, and now you’ve never been more certain about something in your life. You still can’t say what it is that caused you to react in such a way—Arthur’s the only man you’ve ever loved, the only person you could have ever thought of having a life with, even before all this Born King shite. The answer is ‘yes.’ It had always been. 

“Yes?” He repeats with furrowed brows, not sure he’s heard you correctly.  “I’ll stay” —you reach to comb your fingers through his close-shorn beard, and he leans into the touch— “with you.” Forever.

He smiles, and it’s as though a great weight has been lifted from his shoulders. Arthur cradles your face in his hands, thumbs running over your cheekbones. You smile for him, and he leans toward you, closing the distance. His lips are on yours in an instant.

You answer his kiss, slowly at first, then with more fervor when you settle your hands on either side of his neck, drawing yourself closer. Parting, you press your forehead against his and meet his heated stare. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say that?” Arthur asks, breathless.

Then he’s kissing you again and again—hands straying to your waist and backside, pulling you closer, tighter. And it fans the embers burning low in your belly to flames. Arthur breaks the kiss with an anguished groan—fighting a losing war with himself. He brushes back the hair falling in front of your face, the rough pad of his thumb running over your lips. “Tell me to stop,” he mutters—it’s almost a plea. And then he’s adrift in your soft and dark gaze, knowing if you do nothing to stop this, he’ll be acting on countless years of love and pent-up desire.

“No,” you breathe, catching his wrist and sliding his hand up from your neck—peppering his fingertips with gentle kisses. He watches you, lips parted and heart aching. Closing your eyes, you draw in a slow breath, and with a final kiss to his palm, you guide his hand to rest on one of your clothed breasts.

“Arthur.” You speak his name as though it is a quiet prayer. “I want you.” He pulls on the string at the neck of your nightshirt, loosening it until the gauzy material falls off your shoulders—puddling around your ankles, 

Though bare, you still hold his clear blue gaze. He goes silent as he draws in a sharp breath—eyes dart over the length of your body. His eyes darken, though, a mix of lust and adoration. “Think this is the longest you’ve been qui–” He cuts you off with a kiss, and one of his hands rises to cradle your cheek—the side of your neck again—and his lips coax yours open.

You sigh into his mouth, hands instinctively dipping under the hem of his roughspun tunic, fingertips trailing over the taut muscles of his abdomen and the scar on his ribs. Arthur breaks the kiss, quickly shrugging off his shirt, and lets the undyed piece of wool fall to the floor.  

Then, suddenly, he lifts you off your feet effortlessly. You hastily grip his shoulders for balance until he lays you on the bed—standing back to take off his trousers, and you watch him with a weird mixture of hunger and wistfulness as he strips. Arthur kicks aside his discarded clothes, then crawls onto the bed, making room for himself between your thighs—his clear and cold gaze burning with the warmth of the Sun and never once straying from yours.

You gaze tensely at his face as he studies you. His expression is greedy and appreciative, and the firelight glowing in his eyes just makes him look all the more ardent, and the longer he stares at you without doing anything, the more restless you are for him to act. You want his touch, his cock, his lips on yours, and all he’s giving you is this appreciative greedy stare, and it’s not enough.

Arthur kisses you again, and then he leans away from your lips and kisses the angle of your jaw. His mouth travels to the side of your neck, and your pulse flutters in your throat. His lips are surprisingly soft, and as his mouth trails from your neck to your collarbone, the delicacy of his kisses makes you feel lightheaded —a mix of pleasure and disbelief. 

He nuzzles your collarbone, then places a kiss just above the swell of your breast, and you arch helplessly toward his mouth. The heat of his breath wafting over your breast, making your nipples go taut with anticipation, and when the scruff of Arthur’s beard brushes over your nipple, you jolt and make a helpless little mewling sound. You twine your fingers into his golden hair, trying to hold him in place against you. But Arthur shoots you a quick smile, then shuffles lower on the bed still and kisses your breast —and you twist your hips, hands slipping from his hair to his shoulders.  

A sob leaves your throat—not a crying kind of sob, but an instinctive noise tore from your throat without your permission. He lifts his mouth from your breast and smiles at you, and you stare stupidly at his handsome face—the spark in his clear eyes and the boyish smirk twisting his lips.

Arthur palms your breast and squeezes gently. He shuffles lower still on the bed and places a sweet, open-mouthed kiss on your navel, and your sense of surreal disbelief ratchets to a nearly unbearable degree. His mouth drifts lower now, the scruff of his beard tickling your belly as he presses his lips to the skin below your navel and eases your thighs further apart.

Arthur places a kiss between your legs, and your mind goes blank with pleasure. 

“You alright, darlin’?” He smirks. You stare at him, too stunned by pleasure to find a clever response. Instead, riled by the teasing sparkle in his face, you spread your knees wide. His gaze drops between your legs, and his expression darkens with interest as he places his hands on your knees—stroking up to your thighs. He places another firm, wet kiss between your legs, and a helpless moan leaves your lips, and he hums with approval, a smug, half-growly little hum.  

You gasp in a breath, realizing you haven’t been breathing at all. Arthur lifts his head to look you in the eye. “Relax, love,” he croons, smoothing his palm over your belly as he laps at your cunt with slow hot sweeping strokes of his tongue. It’s not long before a finger presses into you, working you slowly open.

Your hips jerk softly along with his movements, and there’s unspoken interest in his gaze as he stares down at you, relentless in his efforts to see you come undone. His tongue and lips are at your clit, fingers stroking and curling deep within you. You jolt, and then he moves slower, dragging over the sensitive spots he’s discovered inside you and leaving your nerves tingling with every touch.

Pleasure washes over you in waves, making your calves twitch, your fingertips feel numb, and that high-pitched mewling noise leaves your throat. Overwhelmed—enraptured—you buck your hips toward his face and clench your fingers convulsively in his hair, and he keeps licking and kissing you until you can’t take it anymore. You pull on his hair to stop him, and he finally pulls away, lips glistening in the moonlight and fading glow of the firelight. “Enough,” you groan. “Need you.” It’s nigh a broken plea.

You shudder as he moves, situating himself between your thighs, calloused fingers dipping into your cunt to gather your slick and spread on his hard cock as he strokes himself. “Arthur, please,” you whimper, impatient, and he won’t keep you waiting.

He slides his cock through your folds before his angle changes just slightly, and on the next pass, your breath stutters as his cockhead presses just inside you—barely splitting you open. Arthur’s hand grabs your hip and angles you up just a bit so he can slide deeper inside you, and you cling onto his biceps—feeling his scars press into your palms and admiring the way his muscles flex under your touch. 

Arthur hisses through his teeth when he fully seats himself inside your warmth, then releases his breath slowly and smiles at you. “You’re lovely,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours, pressing the back of your hands into the mattress. From the moment Arthur first saw you in the Londinium streets, he knew your fates were intertwined—just as your bodies and hands were now. He trembles at this personal heaven, then draws his hips back, starting to move.

You laugh breathlessly, mindlessly. “Charmer,” you pant, hooking your legs around his waist. You roll into his thrusts, pulling him deeper. His ragged breaths and grunts mingle with your sighs of pleasure—panting scarcely keeping up with your racing heart. 

He huffs in amusement. “Can’t say that’s something I get called often,” Arthur says as he pumps his hips slowly, teasing you and pleasing you almost more than you can bear. Then he lowers his lips to yours in a kiss—there’s something sweet on his tongue, like honey wine. 

His whole body begins moving, surging, and writhing against yours. One of his hands releases yours and caresses your cheek before he slides it down your body. Without thought, your body arches into his hand as it moves, ripening under his touch—thoughts clouded by lust and love. His fingers find your clit at the same time his mouth latches to your neck.

Another guttural cry bursts from your lips. He’s pounding into you now, and he’s still holding your hand while his other grips your hip. Your breathing is loud, and so is his, and his hand is tightening on your fingers. He drags in a breath, then expels it in a strained groan.

He shudders, then pounds into you hard, twice, thrice, and then he pauses with his cock deep inside of you. His jaw clenches, and his grip on your hip is so tight that it’s almost painful, but you like it—just as much as you like the guttural sound he makes as he shudders in completion. A few long seconds later, he gasps in a breath, then sighs and releases your hand. “Fuck,” he groans, holding his weight above you on shaking arms. 

You beckon him to lie atop you, his golden head pillowed on your breasts as his breathing steadies, sighing when you kiss his hair and whisper a quiet, I love you, for him to relish. He stays sheathed inside your warmth, unwilling to part just yet. “I love you,” he murmurs in turn, never tiring of how you smile when he says the words. Sighing, he rolls to the side, and you whine at the loss of him and the empty feeling between your thighs.

He lays on his side, and you pillow your head on his outstretched arm, nuzzling close against his chest and threading one of your legs through his. Arthur presses his cheek to the crown of your head and strokes your hair as the first dregs of daylight break over the horizon, shining upon England, Camelot, and his future wife and queen.

[Forever taglist: @certifiedlittleshit / @erzsebetrosztoczy / @hereforreadandwrite / @mrsragnarlodbrok / @rigshak ] if your name is italicized, tumblr would not let me tag you. if you’d like to be added to my forever taglist, or any other character/fandom taglist, just let me know with this Google Form!

[larluce]

AU where Merlin is Arthur's familiar

Firstly, for everyone that doesn't know, in European folklore of the medieval and early modern periods, familiars were believed to be supernatural entities or spiritual guardians that would protect or assist witches and cunning folk in their practice of magic. They're almost always represented as some kind of animal, like a cat or a bird, sometimes a demon.

So, having that cleared up, how would Merlin be a familiar and how would he be Arthur's familiar of all people when Arthur isn't a sorcerer?

That's the thing, in this AU a group of evil druids or sorcerers find out about Merlin's identity earlier and his whereabouts while he is still in Ealdor. Not wanting Emry's magic to be under the command of some prophesied king and desiring that power to themselves, they kidnapped him and make a ritual to turn him into a familiar (a merlin especifically). They also erase his memory so Merlin doesn't remember he was ever human. Just when they where about to bond the bird to the sorcerer/druid leader to have Emrys magic under their command, Merlin manages to escape. He doesn't know who he is or where to go, he just knows he has to go far away from there.

Somehow, probably through his run away ordeal, familiar Merlin ends up in Camelot's castle, with an injured wing. He's chirping in pain when the young prince finds him in his yard.

Arthur: (covering his ears) Why are you making so much noise? Shut up! (looking closely) Wait! you're hurt? (picks him up carefully) I think your wing is broken. (Merlin chirps louder) Alright, alright! I'll find help. (runs as fast as he can) Gaius! Gaius!

The court physician bandages the bird's wing, but he can't take care of it due to his work, so Arthur does it. He makes a place for the bird in his room and feeds it. He tries to not get attached to it knowing the bird will have to return to its natural environment as soon as it recovers. However, after the bird's wing is healed, it doesn't want to leave, not matter how many times Arthur frees it in the forest, it always comes back, so finally Arthur decides to keep it. He has a bit of a fight with his father, because he never let Arthur have a pet, but after the bird protects the prince of a witch that was in disguise by stinging her eyes out, the king finally allows the prince to keep it. The prince, very happy, brings the bird to his chambers.

Arthur: (with Merlin in his forearm) Now the you're oficially my pet- (the bird chirps in protest) Well, my, eh... animal companion? (the bird deadpans) We'll work on that later. The point is, I should probably give you a name. (the bird moves its wings, excited) What about...bird? (the bird shakes it's head) Yeah, I've been calling you that from the start, so no. hmmm. What about falcon? Gaius says you're a falcon, though you're too small to be one, honestly. (the bird chirps, offended). I should just call you falcon or little falcon. No, it's still too long. Lil' falc? No. hmmmm. I think Gaius said you were a especific kind of falcon? How was it? Mar... Mer...Merloni? Merlon... Merlin! That was it. I'll call you Merlin.

Without knowing, Arthur just finished the last step of the ritual: naming the familiar, and with that, becoming the familiar's master. When the bond is created, a flash of light blinds him and, suddenly, the bird is replaced by a boy, who now is sitting on him, while he's spread on the floor.

Arthur: (looking up, shocked) What the fu-

Merlin: (looking down, confused) Arthur! Why are you smaller now? Wait... I can talk? (brings his hand to his face surprised) And I have... hands? Where are my wings? (panicking) Arthur, I lost my wings! And my feathers!(crying)NOOOOO!

Arthur: Merlin? That's.. you? Merlin? Mer...Merlin, shut up! (Merlin stops crying) And get off me! (shoves Merlin aside) How did this happen?

Merlin: You think I know?! Maybe that witch cursed me to be as ugly as you as a revenge for turning her blind. (sobs) My wings, my beautiful wings.

Arthur: (offended) Excuse me? Is not like you were a "handsome" bird either, you poor excuse of a falcon.

Merlin: How would you know, human with so little imagination that names his bird after their species?

After their stupid fight, they go to Gaius, in secret, of course. They can't have the king knowing the prince's bird was cursed. The physician does his investigation and, after Merlin discovers he can turn to his bird form and his human form at will and do some magic stuff, he concludes Merlin is, in fact, a familiar.

Gaius: Incredible! I thought they were a myth. It's said they're spiritual guardians of magic itself and that just the most powerful sorcerers could summond one and tamed them to become even more powerful.

Merlin: No... it can't be. I'm just a bird! I can't be a magical creature! I can't!

Arthur: (Knowing Merlin's scared due to his father laws and believes) Merlin. It's okay.

Merlin: (crying, almost hysterical) NO! I'm not a monster! I swear! I'm not evil!

Arthur: I know. Human, bird or familiar, or whatever, you're a good person. Well, a good being. Nothing is going to change that and nothing is going to happen to you, alright?

Merlin: (calms down) alright (snifs)

Arthur: But we need you to remember. Do you have any memory of you being anything but a bird?

Merlin: No, I've always been a bird. Although... (thoughtful) I don't... remember being a chick before.

Arthur: A what?!

Gaius: He means a baby bird.

Arthur: Oh, right (blushes). I knew that.

Merlin: Yeah, my very first memory is just before I came to Camelot, when... I was trap in a... cage. (he trembles at the memory) There were humans with capes, I think. They said they wanted to... control me, to had me at their mercy. I don't know what they wanted to do with me but I escaped. I thought I wouldn't make it. (with tears in his eyes) I was.. so scared.

Gaius: They must be the sorcerers that summonded you.

Merlin: Great. So not only I'm some magical entity but I'm sorcerer's slave now?

Arthur: (fiercely) You are NOT a slave! You are... ("mine" he is about to say, but stops) your own.

Merlin: (suddenly scared) What if they look for me?!

Arthur: I won't let them take you. I promise.

Gaius: And I don't think you have to worry about being some sorcerer's slave, Merlin. If you were bonded to one, you wouldn't have been able to escape in the first place.

Merlin: That means... (hopeful) I'm free?

Gaius: And in Camelot where magic is forbidden, so you're safer as you can be. You'll just have to keep pretending you're a bird, if that's not a problem with you.

Merlin: I'm completly fine with that.

Arthur: (joyful) And me! (composes himself) I mean, I like him better when he can't talk. (Merlin frowns at him)

Times goes by. At first, Merlin stays in his bird form and tries not to do magic, because, apparently he's been doing magic all this time without knowing (honestly, how was he supposed to know all the things he accidentally broke or dirt in Arthur's room were repaired and cleaned by him? He just thought Arthur has very efficient servants!). But it becomes impossible, not only because not doing magic makes him sick, but Arthur keeps running into danger time and time again, so he has to use magic to protect him. Arthur scolds him everytime he does that, he doesn't want his friend to be discover, but eventually it becomes rutine. Also, Merlin starts to take his human form more and more frecuently, because he needs Arthur to understand him, sometimes to give him a piece of his mind, to warn of some danger he finds out, or simply to cheer him up when he's sad or pass time.

Merlin: Is magic really evil? (he looks at his hands)It doesn't feel evil when I use it.

Arthur: How does it feel to you?

Merlin: It feels like... flying (he smiles and closes his eyes) So natural and beautiful, like the earth under my feet and the wind moving my feathers. And I feel it everywhere, not just inside me, but in every living thing. In every flower that blooms, every pup and chick that is born. Even in you. It's suppose to corrupt you, but instead of feeling wrong, I feel so good and... so alive.

Arthur: (looks at him for a moment, completely in love and then composes himself) I don't believe magic is evil. Not anymore.

Merlin: (open his eyes, surprised) Why's that?

Arthur: At first I thought you were an exception to the rule, but then Morgana-

Merlin: (even more surprised) She told you?!

Arthur: (just as surprised) You knew?!

Merlin: I could feel the magic inside her (he admits, guiltily). I wanted to be wrong. She's one of the kindest human I know, but then I saw her doing magic and... I just couldn't tell you. It wasn't my secret to tell, I'm sorry.

Arthur: It's alright. I understand. (he sighs) She was... so scared, Merlin. She begged not to tell my father, like I could ever do that (he laughs dryly). And she didn't learn magic, she just have it. She didn't even know she was a sorcerer until recently.

Merlin: Oh... (thoughtful) That explains a lot of things.

Arthur: What do you mean?

Merlin: Morgana isn't the only one, I think. Sometimes I fly around and I feel people with magic inside them. Some of them are evil, so I call you, but there are others that just do minor stuff, like healing spells and potions. But there are other too that… don't do magic at all and yet… the magic inside them is so strong. I thought maybe I was seing the potential of magic, but now…

Arthur: (in heavy realisation) So it's true. My father's been killing innocent people all this time.(with tears rolling down his eyes) I've been killing innocent people all this time.

Merlin: (hugging and comforting him) No! Arthur you did nothing wrong. You didn't know.

Arthur: (crying and hugging tightly in return) I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!

Aaaand that's it. I don't know what else could happen. Apart of merthur getting together obviously. There would be a lot of pinning and confused feelings. Arthur first meets Merlin as a bird after all, so accepting he has a crush on his bird friend is not going to be easy. The same goes to Merlin. Lets not talk about when they both discover they're bonded and Arthur could technically control Merlin and use Merlin's magic at his will if he wanted. And I guess at some point the evil sorceress/druids would try to get Merlin back. And then Merlin finding out he was human before and has a mother in ealdor… Damn that's a lot of angst.

Anyways, I still have a couple of fics on going so I don't think I'm going to write this anytime soon... or ever. So if anyone wants to write it feel free to do it. Or just comment any ideas you have for this concept/prompt below so I can keep them in mind if I write it in the end.

EDIT: I DID A PART 2, GUYS!!! -> LINK

[regulusrules]

the levels of dedication to caesar stabby day on tumblr is insane. last thing I found was an insane bitch posting a 50k julius caesar au fic for a fandom that doesn't need anymore pain

aaand that's me. i'm the insane bitch. and that's the fic

[bellastepa]

Imagine a Victorian aU where Merlin, a scholar from Oxford University, comes to an old manor house that stands on the ruins of a castle to find out more information for his dissertation, where, according to legend, the ghost of the knight Arthur lives, unable to rest since his faithful servant died because of his fault.

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

What did Arthur think Merlin was hiding from him?

I fully believe that Arthur knew Merlin was hiding something, he just didn’t know for sure what it was. Or he felt no need to bring it up because he believes Merlin is good and trusts him enough with secrets, or he thinks Merlin has a good reason for not telling him because of either his status or just not being ready to talk about it.

The reasons aren’t important here.

So my top theory is that Arthur knew Merlin was gay and just assumed it was a secret. (It really wasn’t.)

But how unhinged would Arthur go in his theories?

Does Arthur think Merlin has a group of pets he shouldn’t have because they’re all wild animals? And that’s why he hates hunting. Like a small family of 4 wolves, a couple of owls he trained to stay close to Camelot, a few deer, maybe a boar or two but they’re all his best friends so whenever he’s “at the tavern” he’s actually just frolicking in the woods with his unpetable pets.

Or does he think Merlin is training to join the circus or something? The juggling had to come from somewhere so maybe he’s planning to ask Arthur to become a jester more than a manservant? Arthur would hate it, because he couldn’t drag Merlin around everywhere but he’d do it if it meant Merlin would be happy.

Maybe he’s got some obscure hobby involving maps so next time he just knows stuff, it’s because he’s just a huge nerd. Maybe he’s secretly a genius who spends all his time in the library.

I need theories, please.

Arthur becoming a conspiracy theorist because he doesn’t want to think about whatever the real thing Merlin is hiding is hilarious to me. Maybe he even spreads a few rumours to keep Merlin’s secret safe, whatever it is.

[her-soliloquies]

What a time to be alive!

If all of this happened just because Bradley was swinging his bat like it was a sword and the fact that he still REMEMBERS then I'm gonna bloody scream–