#merlin microfic

[wolfiery]

fluke

fill for @merlinmicrofic ; prompt: "your turn" modern merthur, teen+, angst, est. relationship ~~~

Arthur freezes when the sound of glass shatters. 

It’s over.

Merlin would come with him to every dinner; he’d grin widely and charm the guests, rag on Arthur when needed in a way that made everyone laugh. He made it look effortless.

But Arthur saw the strain it took. One night, in the taxi on the way home, Merlin leaned in close, vodka on his breath, and admitted, “Sometimes, I think they’re all living such fragile lives. I just want to knock a table over to see what would happen, shatter the illusion.”

It’s not a whole table. It’s a flute, the stem split, the champagne on the floor with fragments. Merlin isn’t acting now, he’s staring at him. Meanwhile, Mrs. Clarke is already coming up with a tale to explain the loss of Merlin’s functions, and Olivia is calling for the caterers to clean the mess up. 

Arthur can’t look away. Merlin’s brow furrows, his bottom lip quivering through a nervous smile to the women, who wave it off like a broken thing is always something to be waved off. But his eyes meet Arthur’s again, this time broken-hearted, exhausted. This time Arthur looks away.

The company’s e-mail has been sitting in his inbox for months. Starred. Marked. Important. Staring at him in the face every time he opened it: ‘We’re sorry to say we will not be renewing your contract this upcoming fall.’

Things used to feel important.

Merlin holds his hand up when Olivia asks, “What’s wrong?” He doesn’t answer, or doesn’t care to. Arthur holds his breath when he plucks another flute from a caterer’s platter, strides to him, pushing it into his hand.

“Your turn.”

[poisonedfate]

unbothered (anything but)

for @merlinmicrofic, feburary 24 prompt: hunger/hungry (merthur/467/teen/no warnings)

ao3 or under the cut

"Merlin, you cannot be in here," Arthur growled as soon as Merlin entered the chambers. 

"Yeah, yeah, get over it already."

Arthur swung around before he could even finish his sentence:

"You know I can't!" the fire hot behind the prince's words. Merlin was trying really hard to take it seriously. 

Yes, spells were no joke; he knew that better than anyone here, but come on! It had made everyone hungry for whatever it was they desired - food, riches, sex - and Arthur had decided he was...hungry for Merlin? He hadn't really stuck around long enough to figure out what that meant, but knowing Arthur? Well, Merlin wasn't exactly thrilled about his options. Either way, Arthur hadn't been eating due to the whole hunger spell thing, so it was his duty to fix that - or attempt to. Maybe if he looked appetising enough, he could trick him into eating, Merlin thought to himself, laughing. 

"Just come here and eat," Merlin replied nonchalantly. 

"I-"

"Just try," he sighed, no harshness behind his words. 

Arthur looked him up and down, arms crossed, heels practically digging into the floor, trying not to move. Merlin just raised an eyebrow at him, not moving away from the table. 

"Merlin-"

"Oh, how bad can it be?" he mused. He let the colour drain from his face, as he continued, "You're not going to bite me, are you?"

Arthur just glared harder. Interesting.

Merlin could see the barely there shake of Arthur's hands when he finally managed to come closer. 

"So...what exactly is it that you want to do?" he whispered, as the prince made a weird sound in the back of his throat. 

"I- um- I don't actually know. It pulled me towards you at first, and I've been fighting it ever since." 

Merlin thought about killing him for a second. 

"Have you, I dunno, tried not fighting? This might not be about me at all!" 

"Oh, no, it is, when you're not here I am completely unbothered."

"So like usual then," Merlin laughed, though Arthur only gave him a pained look in response, "right, okay, um...just try. I mean, really, I can take it. At least we will know what we're dealing with."

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, his lips turning into a thin line, not arguing. He let out a long breath, and for the first few seconds, he just looked at Merlin, his eyes shifting in expression, though Merlin couldn't quite pinpoint it. He kind of expected to be jumped - verbally, physically, he wasn't sure - but the silence was almost eerie. 

Oh. 

It felt like a hunt. Like Arthur was hunting him. 

He felt himself step back, not far, but enough to push the prince into movement. 

And, well, maybe Arthur did want to bite him after all. 

[arthursknight]

arthur knows there is something to be said of the way a man wears his scars.

his father wears his, an angry silver cord right above his eyebrow, with defiant pride. time and time again, he has seen a visiting noble alight their gaze on the mar, and his father's bellicose stare in return, a silent war between them. i have survived this, the king would say without words. i will survive you.

on his father's men, a constellation of pink, raised flesh-- a rope of gnarled skin on sir bedivere's left arm from the slice of a blade; a thick, white tear in the fabric of ector's neck. when arthur's young, he sits by fires and listens to the tales of bandits, beasts, and brethren who leave the marks on the warriors who arthur loves.

and, in time, they come to arthur. a snaking vine on arthur's right hip. a thin slice along his left bicep. none of them grow angry and purple the way he's seen after the battle dust settles. he's lucky, in that regard, that all his settle into the skin like they belong there. a man who wears his scars not without pride, but whose scars wear him with the same reverence.

his new knights collect them with the same wonder arthur first collected his. a memory of a battle well fought. a time where death reached out its hand and missed. i have survived this. i will survive you.

but they never come to merlin.

at first, when he's young and naive to all the things merlin has done for him, it stands to reason that merlin is never scarred. he doesn't do anything. later, when the truth outs, arthur knows that was as foolish a thought as trusting his father blindly.

merlin fights alongside him, now, in their older years. he watches as blade lunges, as arrow pierces, as spear aims-- and yet, merlin walks away from battle without a scratch. surely, arthur thinks, merlin has just been lucky. maybe his scars are like arthur's-- not quite as visible as his father's, as his men's. hidden underneath cloth and armour.

merlin shares his battlefield, his kingdom, and-- on the luckiest night of arthur's life-- decides to share his bed, too.

it's after arthur has run his hands over every inch merlin will allow him that he realises. not once, in the fog of their union, did arthur's fingers ever stumble over raised skin, divots or grooves.

"what's wrong?" merlin asks, his voice quiet, his lips pressed to where their hands are joined. "tell me if you're about to kick me out of your bed, at least, so i can figure out how i am going to walk after all that."

it's a joke to mask how scared merlin must feel. this is a new development, though one as easy as breath, as predictable as the sun rising in the sky. arthur will tell him that later. for now, though--

"you promised," he whispers into merlin's neck, "to keep nothing more from me."

merlin frowns, his brows drawn together. "i haven't? i mean, if you're talking about my affections, surely we can both admit that yours were the more hidden--"

arthur places a hand over the groove of a lower rib. "here," he says, "is where you were almost run through by bandits, a few seasons ago." his fingers trail down to a hip. "here, you intervened in my fight with some beast or another, and i had to watch gaius give you stitches. and here--"

merlin stops his hand, sucks in a breath. "arthur."

"did you use magic to heal?" arthur finds he isn't angry, not in the way he expects. "i understand, merlin. you had to explain away so much; it would make sense--"

"it's a glamour," merlin admits in the space between his words.

arthur frowns. "a glamour."

merlin can only nod.

arthur knows what the word means, sort of, from the magical instruction and history merlin has given him in the time past their-- arthur's-- new found knowledge of their bond. but glamours, as merlin had explained, are oft for the use of enchantment, so as to make one's romantic interest view them as beautiful--

oh.

he rolls merlin onto his back.

"show me." it is a plea more than a command. it is not from merlin's king, but rather, arthur hopes, his heart.

merlin sighs. his eyes glow gold.

like roots spreading through the earth, a tide rippling over sand, his appearance changes. angry pink gnarls. fine, silver cuts. the faint shadow of where a burn once sat. they litter merlin's pale skin, old and new, in places arthur never could have imagined.

he knows his face must show something that makes merlin turn away from him. with a shaking hand, he turns merlin's chin back to him.

"tell me one thing," arthur says. it is a command, now. "were these all for me?"

there is no air in the room as merlin nods.

slowly, arthur draws in breath. he leans down, then, and presses his lips to one at the base of merlin's neck.

"then," he starts, shakily, "this is mine." another kiss, to his ribs, the puckered flesh of a sword wound. "this is mine." to his wrist, where chains must have sat at the behest of his father. "this is mine," and he's choking up, now.

merlin's trembling underneath him, a quaking branch in the wind. arthur spreads his fingers over merlin's heart, takes its beat in his palm, and looks him in his eyes.

"i will love everything you show me," arthur breathes, a promise, "because it is mine."

"as am i," merlin promises back. "as am i."

[artaxlivs]

Yoooo that was pretty fun. Not gonna lie. Ten microfics (8 in six hours last night and another 2 this morning) and it was a great stretch of my writing muscles. I'll probably do it again. Here's a list if you missed any:

Avengers Costumes (The one that unintentionally started the game) Steddie (LOTR) My First Destiel Buffy/Hawkeye (This might become I thing...I liked their dynamic a little too much) Steddie (Vamp Eddie) Winterhawk (Fluffy request) (thats Winter Solider/Hawkeye) Steddie (Rocky Horror - this one is NSFW) Merlin/Arthur (Muppet Show...this one is wild) Steddie (Late but we'll let it slide) Winterhawk (Also Late but I love Hawkeye so I'll allow it)

[iamcaledonia]

Merlin sat on the sofa reading a book, occasionally taking a sip of his iced drink. From down the corridor drifted the sounds of Arthur running a bath, and Merlin couldn't help but smile, distracted.

Arthur had only been back for a few weeks and the wonders of the modern world were still astonishing him. Merlin laughed quietly as he heard Arthur turn the water on and off over and over again, each time emitting a pleased and puzzled gasp.

Eventually, the noise settled and Merlin turned back to his book.

When Arthur emerged from the bathroom half an hour later, a large cloud of steam accompanied him. Merlin looked up, marking his page.

Arthur was rumpled and damp, his hair standing on end, and dressed in his colourful pyjamas and big, fluffy slippers. He smelled strongly of bubble bath. His skin wasn't just flushed, it was a bright, painful-looking red. Again. Merlin smiled fondly and shook his head.

"The tap labelled 'cold' works, too, you know."

"Hot water!" Arthur said, complete with emphatic hand gestures, "On demand!"

"You always did have hot water on demand!" Merlin wiggled his fingers towards Arthur meaningfully.

"Yes, well, I didn't exactly know that!" Arthur pouted, but he climbed onto the sofa anyway, settling between Merlin’s outstretched legs.

"Yes, well, there have been a lot of revelations lately, haven't there?"

Merlin smoothed Arthur's hair as Arthur lay back, making a contented sound like a cat. A few moments later, Merlin pushed Arthur away until he had forced Arthur to arm's length.

"Get off me! You're like a furnace!"

"I can keep you warm!"

"Arthur, stop, it's the middle of summer and I don't need to be kept warm!"

Which was fair enough because it was bloody roasting in the flat.

Arthur relented, pouting some more and resigning himself to the opposite end of the sofa. It was amazing how loud Arthur could be even if he wasn't speaking.

Merlin, sighing, felt his eyes glow golden as a chill breeze whipped up from nowhere, effectively cooling the entire living room.

"Oh, come here, you great big radiator," Merlin grumbled, but he was smiling as Arthur crawled back into his arms.

[atirosnor]

Goldilocks

For @merlinmicrofic prompt: Tower, Gen, Arthur & Merlin, Humor

When I wrote the first sentence I thought I would tell you, Please don't read this. It's stupid. Now I think I'll say, Please read this. It's stupid. 

<center>:<+>:

“Rupunzel, Rupunzel, let down your ha-ir!” Merlin sang with glee.

Arthur's head emerged halfway from his blankets, annoyance and embarrassment coloring his face. “Shut up, Merlin.” 

As always, he ignored him. “Wouldn't want our king to turn into a lazy-daisy just for a little old sorcerer, hmm?” He craned his neck, trying to get a better view of the back of his head. “Come on, up you get, better early than never!”

Arthur grumbled unintelligibly and shimmied furthur under his covers. He popped back out to say, “The saying is better late than never.” 

“Well I don't know about a saying, but I'm saying, better early than never and that means,” he wapped him with his own breakfast serving spoon, “Up you get!” 

“...Mno.” His voice was muffled under the covers. 

“Come on, you have duties to attend to, knight-hopefuls to beat up, innocent animals to kill!”

Arthur jerked up. “There's a hunt today?!” he asked in excitement, flailing out of his blankets and bed to fall gracelessly to the floor, long golden hair trailing behind him.

Merlin crowed with glee and nearly fell over, cackling. 

Arthur's face was red. “Shut up.” 

Merlin nodded smartly, holding a straight face, bit his lip, then broke into a laugh. 

“You said it would be gone by morning.” Arthur grumbled, pulling his covers down with him. 

“I didn't say it would … only that most enchantments of that sort wear off with the day cycles—”

“Just be quiet. Please.”

“Why,” Merlin put a hand to his chest. “King Arthur, saying please?”  he shook his head in mock wonder and pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. “I never thought I'd see the day—” He said in a choked-up voice. Arthur glared. “Sorry. Stopping now.”

Merlin held his breath until his face turned red, then hiccoughed. He, very obviously, tried to restrain himself, only letting laughter gasp out in little bursts, before he guffawed. Arthur huffed. 

“Stop laughing at me.” he grumbled. 

“No—ha—no! Far be it from me to laugh at our majestic king, Sire.” magnificent

He raised an eyebrow, “And, what, pray tell, are you laughing at, then?” and smirked at the dumbfounded look on his face. 

“Your…” he looked around. Arthur raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “bed. It's ridiculous! I make it, every day, before you get in, and by morning, without fail, pillows are everywhere, the sheets are a jumble, and the covers are literally upside-down. How do you do that? How?”  Merlin looked at him, at a loss, and Arthur shook his head, bemused. Where did he get so good at misdirection? How, indeed.

<center>:<+>:

We're just going to ignore that this is a newer German folk legend here...

[queerofthedagger]

Microfic: Elyan/Gwaine + Lighthouse

Gwaine has never been a guiding light for anyone, no beacon of hope, no candle in the night. Perhaps it is not in his nature, he thinks as he looks at Elyan, tired eyes and tight jaw, his sister's seat empty to his right. He's tried, gods knows he did, but his hands don't know how to be gentle, and he never seems to find the words, never the right stepping stones to cross the growing chasm between them in the aftermath of Gwen's banishment, of a Druid child's spirit, of Lancelot's sacrifice. Gwaine has never been harbour for anyone—always more lighthouse than shelter, more warning and jagged cliffs than a place to rest. As it turns out, all the love eating him up from the inside does not change this either, no matter how hard he tries and tries and tries.

[silk-scarlet-ribbons]

Darling scar, Richard Siken ask, number 10 <3

dearest brittany <3

line ten: i want to tell you this story without having to confess anything.

-

this is arthur's sixteenth life.

"so you're telling me, we knew each other," arthur says, and he looks absolutely ridiculous with half of his eyebrow blown off, with a chip missing out of his left front tooth, with soot in his afternoon-sun hair.

"we knew each other." merlin says wryly. his bound tongue swells up, allergic reaction to the lie.

he knows arthur the way roots know the pliant embrace of the earth. he knows arthur the way leaves know their trees, grasping for dear life when the turn of the season approaches. he knows arthur the way distance knows fondness, because merlin has known many more years without arthur than arthur has known without merlin. forever is a concept for the tree, not for the leaves.

and every time, again, this song: do I know you?

arthur laughs. "think i'd remember a wonky-looking fellow like you. merlin." his name, on arthur's tongue, the same it's always been. the way it transcends birth and death and the spaces in between. when he speaks, the little gap in his teeth whistles, like he's chirping, like he's singing.

"you have a notoriously dismal memory," merlin says, and it's ever a battle not to say milord, my king. all those years ago, and merlin's never believed anything less than the wildfire tale of arthur and merlin and the way they shared the two sides of the same coin. how could they be, he thinks, when the head has never seen the tail, never known the tail?

"if i really were a king, as you say," arthur says, and grasps merlin's face between his sooty thumb and forefinger. familiar and sweet-smelling, like fresh hay, and he smiles twice as big to compensate for his chipped tooth. "i'd have you thrown in the stocks for that."

you did, merlin thinks, and through a smile that wobbles like an interrupted lake, he says, "you could try."

in short order (perhaps ten minutes), arthur will learn of merlin's magic, once more.

he will meet merlin with those black-smudged hands clasped around merlin's own, he will duck with him behind shipping crates on the harbor and smother merlin's murmured spells with his mouth, he will fashion merlin a ring from braided grass and hay, and,

he will die. this time, in a fire.

(their story will begin again when he meets a boy in the woods with mint leaves crowning his hair and clovers between his teeth and a stick gripped defensively in his knobby little fist. the first words of every chapter in their eternal book are, "do I know you?")

[feuxx]

hii<3 for the siken ask game, 20. you’re in a car with a beautiful boy and you're trying not to tell him that you love him.

Hi love sorry for the hurt </3

20. you’re in a car with a beautiful boy and you're trying not to tell him that you love him.

As the car was making its way over the slightly wet ground, from yesterday’s rain, the sky was breathtakingly clear with a singular cloud drifting from time to time. It was making a mockery of him.

Arthur was in some of his finest clothes - the carbon black suit with the wine red tie. It was Merlin’s favourite and despite it perhaps not being his pick considering the circumstances, the choice had been final. Merlin had insisted on him wearing it for the wedding, waxing some lyrical nonsense about it bringing out the gold of his sun-kissed skin. Arthur had grumbled and rolled his eyes but he couldn’t refuse the bridegroom, especially as he could never have denied Merlin anything - something that every one of their friends knew but not the man in question. It was Merlin’s, and Freya’s, day, and he was not enough of an asshole to ruin it, best man or not.

As he was heading to his destination, knuckles almost white on the steering wheel, fiddling with the tie to a searing point of crumpling and wrinkling, he worked in his jaw, trying to loosen the heartache that was firmly lodged there. He had waited and waited and waited and lost his nerve; he had been holding the hurt close to him for so long, so long that it felt like a phantom limb of aching. It wasn’t supposed to be like that. Yet he could do nothing about it, when the absence of what made him whole only reaffirmed keenly its omission. He knew Merlin was slumbering in the back of the car, that he wouldn’t hear anything that he would say to him, that Arthur could pour his whole heart out in this instant, and it wouldn’t compromise anything in between the two of them. He opened his mouth but found himself unable to say the words. It was too late. He wished that he could cry, and sob, and scream, or anything, but his tear ducts were unflinchingly empty, just as hollow as he felt for the rest of the trip.

As he drove the hearse through the gate, he arrived at the final resting place of his best friend. He took in all of their loved ones: Hunith’s tear-stricken face, Gwaine’s devastation, Freya’s sobbing frame - and he turned away his gaze.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

But it was too late.

[my-castles-crumbling]

body - @jegulus-microfic - 216

"I am going to kill you, Potter!" Regulus yelled, stalking across the Great Hall and coming to a stop in front of James. "They will never find the body, I swear to Merlin!"

Remus looked up from James's side, looking entertained. "What'd you do now, Prongs?"

It was a fair question. More often than not, the reason Regulus found himself at the Gryffindor table was to yell at James Potter for one reason or another.

James gave an affronted look. "How dare you think-"

Regulus snorted, not in the mood to indulge dramatics. "He gave Alan detention again!"

Remus rolled his eyes and shrugged, turning back to his food, clearly deciding he was best to stay out of it.

"You can't just give people you don't like detention, Potter!" Regulus continued, furious. "Just because he's a Slytherin-"

"Maybe it's not because he's a Slytherin!" James interrupted, standing to face Regulus. "Maybe it's because- because-"

"Because why, Potter?" Regulus demanded, not quite believing him.

"Because I saw him kissing you at the party on Friday!" James burst out, cheeks red.

Regulus took a breath, thinking this through. Why did that matter? "What, are you...why would you care..."

"Because I wanted it to be me, Regulus. Isn't that obvious by now?" James sighed, looking frustrated.

Oh. Oh.

[hitmewithsomebooks]

@jegulus-microfic Jan 10 - lake

159 words

~

“James Potter I swear to Merlin, if you don’t stop right now I’ll drown you in the Black lake.” Regulus threatened, but it didn’t quite have the same effect when his cheeks were flushed a pretty pink.

James grinned at him, all pearly white teeth.

“…and I love your ears, they’re just so cute I don’t know why, I love that freckle right below your bellybutton, the way you play with my fingers when you’re bored, your affinity for flowers, oh, and your voice when you first wake up, and—”

Regulus groaned, dropping to the floor with his face in his hands. James laughed, sitting down next to him and playing with his hair as he continued on.

*

“What’s wrong with my brother?” Sirius asked, concern and confusion coating his voice.

“James is telling him all the things he loves about him.” Remus answered.

“Oh. Sappy prats.” Sirius scoffed, rolling his eyes and setting his head in Moony’s lap.

[wolfiery]

soft-hearted

Fill for @merlinmicrofic; March prompt: vulnerability merthur, soft drabble, gen., 100 words

A gradual breeze sways the curtain, awaking him with a brush against his arm. A drawn and hushed inhale, savoring the dewy morning air blended with the muskiness of sage. He could die happy here. Jaw pressed against Arthur's heart, which stumbles when Merlin finally opens his eyes. He can't restrain his smile, seeing blue eyes already twinkling at him with recognition. "I would do anything for you." The whisper is sacred, teetering with a thin and delicate happiness. Arthur knows, bends, presses a kiss to his forehead. "And I for you. And I hope you'd do anything for yourself."

[poisonedfate]

but it's better if you do

for @merlinmicrofic, march 24 prompt: "Trust me"(merwenthur/490/teen/no warnings)

ao3 or under the cut

"It's going to be fine, Arthur," Gwen said for what seemed like the tenth time already. She was sitting at the table, chair turned to face him currently pacing up a storm about four steps in front of her. 

"How can you be so sure?" he had said this exact line ten times himself. They were going in circles. 

Gwen seemed to notice this as well, or rather, seemed to decide enough was enough, the leg she had been swinging to a melody only she could hear coming to a halt. 

"Arthur, it's Merlin. He wants this, same as you, same as me."

He gave a look at that, clearly unconvinced. 

"What if...what if it doesn't, you know, work? 

"It will work, trust me. Trust him," she smiled, something slightly teasing in her features. 

"You know I do, but-," the door of their chambers burst open before he could finish his sentence.

"Out of bed already, are we?" Merlin's voice was chipper as he threw a glance at Gwen. 

Arthur followed his eyes, mostly for his own benefit, hoping to steal away Gwen's gaze, attempting one last look of concern. She only gave him another small smile in response as she got up, making her way over to Merlin. Arthur wanted to go back to sleep. 

They exchanged a couple words that he couldn't quite hear due to the still-present pounding in his head - a reminder of last night's activities. He did, however, hear the slightly louder call of his name, spilling over Merlin's lips. His lips that, well... Arthur shook his head, aiming to rid of the thought creeping in, though all it did was provoke the pulse in his temples. 

"Arthur," Merlin said once more, stepping closer, hands behind his back. Gwen stayed back, watching. Before he knew it, Merlin was only a breath away from him. "I'm terribly sorry, sire, but I don't think I can do this," he said, leaning closer still. Arthur wondered if he was hallucinating, perhaps dreaming still - something vivid and wine-made. 

Arthur couldn't look away from his mouth that was still moving, words beginning to merge together. He leant in without meaning, chasing, but Merlin managed to escape, giggles filling the room, Gwen standing near now - he wasn't sure when that happened. 

"I knew it would work," she whispered as Merlin pulled her by the waist and into a kiss - not a very long one, they were still laughing. She only gave Arthur a sly nod before letting go of the other, staying connected only by the hand.

"Are you still having doubts, Arthur?" Merlin then asked mockingly sweet. 

"Oh, so many," he sighed, grabbing him by the other wrist and pulling until he could finally taste his laugh too, only managing to pull apart once the air wasn't quite reaching their lungs anymore.

"I'm not through with you, either," he raised his eyebrows at Gwen.

"I wouldn't dare to assume."

[allyeardepression]

@jegulus-microfic | april 12 Amortentia | words: 683

DARLING, GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM JAIL (not jail but a hospital, same thing really). I missed writing and maybe some of you missed me so here’s a cute one. enjoy;3

tw: alleged poisoning, swearing

"Have you seen that green shirt Regulus wore to the party last week? He looked so beautiful in it,” James mused, laying down on the floor next to Remus’ bed. “And his hair, oh Merlin, his hair...”

“What the fuck, Prongs?” Sirius snapped at him, sitting straight on Mooney’s bed. Oh, right, he forgot his best friend was in the room.

James looked at Remus, a bit terrified, hoping the tall boy would come up with something to save his ass. With the smirk Remus gave him, James knew he was doomed.

“Oh boy, are you okay, James?” The taller boy asked with feigned concern. “Pads, I think someone poisoned him.”

At the comment, Sirius’ face turned from pissed to concerned.

“What? With what?” he started, running to James to check on him.

Remus hummed, looking at the two of them with a mean grin.

“Some Slytherin must’ve added amortentia to his tea in revenge for the last prank,” he said, acting as if he were terrified. “We should take him to Slughorn; he probably has an antidotum.” With that, Sirius picked James up and led him out of their dormitory.

Padfoot looked determined to help him as they walked to the dungeons, while Remus kept sending him amused glances. In response, James just farrowed his eyebrows, mouthing  you’re dead to his friend.

When they finally reached the potions professor’s room, Sirius started banging on them like a madman. Not even ten seconds into it, the door opened.

“What are you doing here?” Regulus asked, looking at all three of them. James could see his eyes softening as they reached his own, and he smiled gently at Regulus, the younger boy's cheeks turning slightly pink.

“What are you doing here?” Sirius asked, reminding James of his presence.

“Well, I’m brewing a potion,” Regulus started. “But you still didn’t answer my question.”

Sirius frowned at his brother, and he pointed at James. “Can you see him? He’s looking at you like you’re the world’s eighth wonder; somebody poisoned him with amortentia!”

Regulus and James locked eyes again, the younger boy smirking this time.

"Oh, really?” he started, still looking at James. “What gave you the idea?”

“Well,” Sirius began, “he started rumbling about how pretty you looked last week, and how he likes your hair, and other shit like that!” That was just Sirius being dramatic, but Regulus seemed more pleased with every word. “Is Slughorn here? We need to fix him right now!”

Regulus shook his head, turning to face his brother. “He went to Madam Pomfrey; he should be back soon," he said with a pause. “But maybe you should go back to the dorm; it's almost curfew. I’ll take care of that moron.”

James looked at Remus with pleading eyes, hoping this time his friend would actually help him. Thankfully, Moony seemed like he had enough of torturing him for one evening.

He grabbed Sirius’ shoulder, turning him so they stood face-to-face. “He’ll be fine, honey,” Remus said gently, leaning closer to Sirius’ ear. As the black-haired boy’s eyes widened, James assumed the two of them would be taking advantage of the free dormitory. Good for them, James thought. Just don’t destroy the room. Again.

“If he starts being insufferable, give him a sleeping drought or bind him; I don’t care. Just... be safe,” Sirius said to his brother, getting a dismissive yeah, yeah in response.

As the two Gryffindors left them, Regulus pushed James into the room, slamming the door behind them.

“So, amortentia, huh?” Regulus asked with a teasing smile, putting his hands on James’ chest. The older boy grabbed him by the waist, pulling him closer.

“Yeah,” he began, rubbing his hands up and down Regulus’ sides. “I think Barty wanted to get back at me for turning custard creams into Canary Creams.”

“Perhaps yes,” Regulus said, nuzzling at James’ jaw. “And you think I’m pretty? Evan must’ve helped him with the potion if you talked so nicely about me,” James chuckled as the younger boy grabbed him by the neck and pulled him down for a kiss. 

[iamcaledonia]

Hi Cally!! 💛 For the Richard Siken ask game: 18?

fyscka my friend, hello!! Thank you for your ask!! I hope this little ficlet makes you smile! xx Cally

18. please, just for one night, will you lie down next to me?

Please, just for one night, will you lie down next to me? 

Arthur rehearsed the phrase so often inside his mind that it nearly lost all meaning. He would think it a million times a day, watching Merlin go about the various tasks Arthur had assigned simply to keep Merlin close to him. As the night closed in and the opportunity presented itself for Arthur to actually say the words he’d practised all day, he would lose his nerve.

What would happen if Merlin said no? Turned him down? Laughed? Arthur didn’t think he could survive that. Monstrous beasts? Fine. Rampaging armies? Sure. His father’s endless disappointment? Easy. Merlin’s rejection? No, that would be the killing blow.

So Arthur practised the words, but he kept them to himself, day after day after day.

+++

Please, just for one night, will you lie down next to me? 

Merlin thought of that phrase endlessly. He imagined a hundred different scenarios in which Arthur would say what Merlin so longed for him to say. Perhaps one night while out on a hunt, or while searching for bandits, with the others already asleep. Maybe on a dark winter night when it was far too cold for Merlin to be anywhere but beside Arthur in his bed.

Merlin’s feelings for Arthur were all-encompassing and would soon be too strong for him to ignore, but he was too scared. Too scared to lose the friendship for which he had fought for so long.

So Merlin went about the endless tasks that Arthur assigned, and in his head, he heard Arthur asking him to stay a million different ways. 

+++

It was one of those winter days when the sun never rose far above the horizon and absolutely everything seemed endless. Arthur was worn thin by the repetition of something he’d done a hundred times but which never changed. He was exhausted by the familiarity of the people with whom he shared his life but who would never choose him if given a chance. 

So much snow had fallen that the citadel was cut off as effectively as though they were under siege. There was nothing going on, and Arthur was running out of excuses to request Merlin’s attendance. Gaius, too, needed Merlin’s help, with so many people falling ill in the depths of winter. 

It was late when Merlin finally came to settle Arthur into bed. His hands were pale and as cold as ice, his body shaking with chills. His hair was damp, his ears red. He had obviously been out in the snow, completing a task for Gaius. Arthur resisted every impulse. He did not take Merlin’s hands into his. He did not wrap his arms around Merlin’s shivering body. He did not towel Merlin’s hair dry or hold him close until his whole body warmed.

But as Merlin tucked Arthur into his warm bed, the words Arthur had practised for years fell from his lips almost against Arthur’s will.

“Merlin, would you stop being so bloody stubborn and get under these blankets? You’re obviously freezing, and your room will probably be freezing too. I won’t hear any arguments. Get in this bed and warm up before you freeze to death,” Arthur’s voice was much more commanding than he had meant it to be. In fact, he was almost shouting. And he had gotten the words wrong! After all of his practising!

Still, Arthur thought, settling himself down as Merlin climbed slowly and cautiously under the covers, if the end result was the same, did the method matter?

+++

Well, they hadn’t exactly been the words that Merlin had wanted to hear for so long, but if the end result was the same, did it really matter?

When Merlin woke, warm in the lazy winter light, with Arthur’s strong arms wrapped protectively around him, he thought, perhaps, it didn’t really matter after all.

[emlovessid]

@jegulus-microfic january 7, headache, 165 words

“If you concentrate any harder, you’ll give yourself a headache.”

“Merlin, James,” Regulus jumps.

He’d been so engrossed in taking notes that he hadn’t even noticed James slip into the seat beside him.

“Sorry, love,” James says with a chuckle, pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “Come on, time to pack up.”

“I have to finish writing out these notes before the library closes. I can’t check it out,” Regulus sighs.

“Sure you can, I’ll chat to Pince,” James says, getting to his feet before noticing Regulus’ look of disbelief. One hand on the back of Regulus’ chair and the other on the desk, James leans in until they’re face to face to add, “You’re dating the head boy, it does have some privileges.”

Five minutes later, Regulus is walking out of the library with James’ arm around his shoulders and the Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook Madam Pince told him cannot be checked out under any circumstances in his arms.