tags: #CRYING A LITTLE BIT BECAUSE THIS IS MY FIC OMG THIS IS MY FIC #CAITLIN DID A PODFIC OF MY FIC #SCREAMING A LOT #iamsleeping #my writing #I LOVE CAITLIN A LOT #CAITLIN IS LOVELY #AND WONDERFUL #AND PERFECT #AND JUST #C A I T L I N

Podfic: “BOUNDARIES” (NC17) 

Author: brolininthetardis/suchgreatheights (AO3)

Reader: iamsleeping/caitcupcake (LJ)

Characters/Pairing: Merlin/Arthur

Length: 00:56:40

Summary: It had been four months with Arthur now. Four months of Merlin slowly easing into things again, figuring out how to let someone back into his heart, but carefully avoiding eye contact as he tiptoed around the physical with quick, flighty steps. Four months of kissing, cuddling, and occasionally wandering hands—but nothing more.

Warnings: Reference to past sexual abuse

Link: MP3 DOWNLOAD

Notes: MADE AS A GIFT FOR STEPHANIE! I beta’d this fic so I know it well but this was my first ever attempt at a podfic and it only took about 90 minutes so it isn’t professional-quality. Apologies if you can hear my laptop but apparently Macs are awkward bastards when it comes to using an input-mic (at least, mine is).

Fic: Boundaries 

(Trigger warning: Reference to past sexual abuse.)

Sometimes, Merlin could still feel it.  He could still feel the fingers digging unwelcome bruises into his hips, the hand yanking painfully at his hair, and the deep, resounding ache within him, splitting him open from the inside out, in both mind and body.  He could hear the drunken snarling in his ear, the grunts and gasps that brought stinging tears to his eyes.  He could still taste the blood on his lip, and the smell of alcohol still made him sick to his stomach with memories.

It was for those reasons that Merlin came with a certain set of… boundaries.  Hesitations.  Tendencies to put off anything physically serious, because he was only just learning to overcome the instinct to shrink back from any offered touch.  That was when he met Arthur.

By now, Arthur knew about Cedric.  That is, he knew Merlin had been in a relationship with a man who drank too much and cared too little, who fucked Merlin even when Merlin didn’t want him to, and who passed out and sometimes didn’t even remember why Merlin flinched away from his touch and winced in pain the next morning.  

(But Merlin knew that sometimes he did.  Sometimes Cedric did remember, and he said nothing, and in the end, that was what finally drove Merlin to leave with the realisation that things were never going to get better.)

Arthur had been aware of all of that, back when they had only known each other for a couple of months; back when they were just friends who liked getting coffee and who made each other laugh, and whose glances and touches perhaps lingered longer than was strictly necessary.  Arthur had known it when he made some pathetic attempts at courting Merlin with awkward stammers and casually-bestowed gifts (Gwen called them tokens of affection, but that was rather over-the-top), and he had known it the evening he burst into Merlin’s flat, inelegantly declaring that he wanted to take Merlin out to dinner like on a proper date, not some bloody two-hour coffee break.

Arthur had always known what kind of baggage he was signing up for—and yet, he seemed to want Merlin regardless of it.

It had been four months with Arthur now.  Four months of Merlin slowly easing into things again, figuring out how to let someone back into his heart, but carefully avoiding eye contact as he tiptoed around the physical with quick, flighty steps.  Four months of kissing, cuddling, and occasionally wandering hands—but nothing more.

(Read at AO3)

(TW: Vivid reference to self-harm; shame)

Arthur had never mentioned Merlin’s scars.

They were faded, but Merlin knew they were still perfectly visible. They were still very much there, and if he was honest, maybe they still screamed a little too loudly; visual reminders that enjoyed mocking him, even after the number of years that had passed since he had painted his skin with them.

If he was honest, maybe he still thought twice before stripping down around anyone else, even after all this time. If he was honest, maybe the marks on his legs had prevented things from moving forward with Arthur for longer than Merlin cared to admit; too afraid of watching Arthur’s eyes trail down his body and zero in on past failures, laid right out on his skin like an essay of reasons Arthur shouldn’t want him.

That hadn’t happened. In fact, the first time Arthur’s hands had dragged at his clothes until there was nothing but heat left between their bodies, nothing had happened at all except Arthur pressing him down into the sheets and mumbling filthy promises mixed with loving endearments until Merlin had lost himself completely in a rush of ecstasy.

But even now, Merlin couldn’t help waiting for it. Every time they fell into bed together, every time Arthur licked and bit his way down Merlin’s body, every time Arthur’s hands skated along Merlin’s thighs—Merlin would hold his breath, just for a few seconds, and wait. Wait for Arthur to pull away in disgust and shock, wait for him to yank his hands away from Merlin’s skin as if it had burned him.

But today, just like every other day, Arthur only held him close like he always did as Merlin came, shuddering against him, wrapped in the fine sheets of Arthur’s bed as soft morning light danced across the surfaces of the room. (It was a Saturday. Arthur was a fan of morning sex on Saturdays, and Merlin was a fan of spending Friday nights at Arthur’s.)

(Read at AO3)

Day In, Day Out 

A week in the life of Merlin and Arthur; in which Arthur’s job is stressful, Merlin’s hobbies are demanding, both of them make time for each other regardless, and—most importantly—Merlin is Arthur’s favorite person in the world.

On Sunday, it rains.

Arthur likes the rain.  Or rather, he likes the result of rainy days, when he stays inside in the dry warmth of the flat with Merlin.  Merlin, he thinks, loves the rain itself.  Right now he’s sitting in the window seat, long legs stretched down the length of the bench; he tends to do that when the drops fall heavy and the rumble of thunder rolls gently through the flat, because rain puts Merlin in one of those moods where he talks a lot less and thinks a lot more.  Arthur doesn’t mind, although he admittedly grows a little restless when the flat is this still and quiet while they’re both home, because it always leaves him with the uneasy feeling that something is wrong.

He walks over to the seat and lowers himself down opposite Merlin, gently lifting Merlin’s legs so he can seat himself underneath them and place Merlin’s feet in his lap.  Merlin looks up as Arthur sits, a smile already blooming across his features.  It’s not one of Merlin’s big, goofy smiles; it’s a more reserved smile, a quiet smile, an intimate smile saved just for Arthur.

“Hi,” Merlin says softly.  “I was just thinking about you.”

Arthur rubs Merlin’s ankle in his lap absentmindedly. His own lips curve into a small grin.  “Oh?”

Merlin nods, looking back out at the rain.  “Yeah.  Our first kiss.”

(Read at AO3)

A Lesson In ‘Shut Up, Merlin’ 

Merlin wouldn’t say he was hopelessly in love, by any means—only that he had spent the better part of the last year and a half a little bit infatuated with Arthur, and perhaps jumped with a bit too much enthusiasm when Arthur had asked, a couple of months earlier, if Merlin wanted to come along with him and his friends to the cinema after school.

Despite Merlin’s embarrassing initial instincts (which followed somewhere along the lines of Oh God Arthur is talking to me and Don’t throw up and At least breathe enough to say yes, you idiot), he had apparently made a decent enough impression to be invited along again after that—and again, and again, until eventually their time spent together had narrowed to just the two of them.

They were sitting on the floor of Arthur’s bedroom now, listening to music at a low volume while Arthur chatted away mindlessly.  Merlin listened—or, at least, he was aware of Arthur’s voice, but he was much more focused on trying not to let his gaze remain fixed on Arthur’s mouth for long periods of time.

“D’you wanna kiss me?”

Merlin’s eyes snapped back up to Arthur’s at the words.  He had no idea what Arthur had been talking about a second earlier, but he was sure he had imagined that last sentence.  Arthur, however, was watching Merlin with innocently raised eyebrows, as if waiting for a response.

“I—What?” Merlin asked, flustered.

“I said, do you want to kiss me?” and no, Merlin had not imagined it, because there it was again, voiced so casually that Arthur could have been asking him if he was hungry.  Suddenly Merlin’s face was feeling much hotter, and any words that he could have possibly mustered at that moment were caught in his throat anyway, leaving him staring in open-mouthed shock before finally stammering,

“Why would—O-Of course not, what makes you think—”

“It’s okay,” Arthur said reassuringly, and in a much gentler voice than Merlin would have thought him capable of.  What was left of his heart dissolved quickly into a useless, quivering puddle as Arthur reached out to tug gently on his arm, urging him closer and speaking softly.  “I wanna kiss you too.  C’mere.”

Merlin went, because the little butterflies dancing in his stomach made him powerless to resist Arthur even if he wanted to—though as it happened, he really, really, really didn’t want to.

Arthur’s grip loosened as Merlin settled beside him on the floor.  His lips—his lips, his perfect, pretty lips which he had just voluntarily offered to press against Merlin’s—quirked into a smile, easy and genuine as he slid a hand behind Merlin’s neck and pulled him forward.  Merlin managed a shaky exhale and felt the heat of his own breath come back to him as it hit Arthur’s lips, and before he could form another coherent thought, Arthur’s eyes fell shut and he closed the remaining distance between them.

There was too much nose in the way and not enough air in between their mouths and never in Merlin’s life had teeth seemed so inconvenient, but even those embarrassments paled in comparison to the way Merlin found himself utterly frozen as Arthur’s lips met his own.  He only barely remembered to close his eyes, and as Arthur’s lips moved over his, Merlin’s mind seemed to short-circuit completely.  Long moments passed, and still he found himself quite unable to process what was happening quickly enough to do anything but sit there, shocked into useless stillness as Arthur’s mouth tried in vain to nudge some life back into Merlin’s lips.

It was awkward.

(Read at AO3)

“Bradley—Bradley, get off.”

Bradley huffed a laugh against the skin of Colin’s neck and pulled back slightly to nose at his jaw.  ”Nah,” he mumbled.  ”I’m rather enjoying you this way.”

Colin sighed, exasperated, but tilted his head back as he sank his fingers into Bradley’s hair.  ”They’re going to catch us.  Again.”  He gasped as Bradley bit gently at his pulse point before licking over the skin soothingly.

“Let them,” Bradley muttered, shifting his weight to pin Colin against the wall as he threaded his fingers into Colin’s hair.  He grasped and tugged gently, urging Colin’s head back a little farther as his lips latched onto the long, pale length of Colin’s neck again.

Colin let out something embarrassingly close to a whine as Bradley bit and sucked his way along the skin, wondering why these moods seemed to come out of nowhere at the very worst of times.  A better question may have been why Colin was so quick to give in when Bradley acted like this, but he was having a hard time focusing on anything right now outside of the lips trailing down his neck, the teeth nipping at his skin, and the tongue swiping out to taste, over and over again, hot and wet enough to make Colin forget everything else.

Bradley finally darted up to steal a kiss—two, three—from Colin’s lips before pulling away altogether and stepping back, apparently satisfied at the wrecked state in which he was leaving Colin.  Colin reached up immediately to comb desperate fingers through his own hair, willing it to lie flat enough to pass for not having had Bradley’s hands running through it and tugging at it for the past fifteen minutes.

Bradley snorted as he watched.  ”Relax, Col.  It’ll be fine.”  Colin simply shot him a halfhearted glare, but couldn’t keep his lips entirely free of a smile as he noticed the mussed state of Bradley’s hair, as well.

“You really are a prat sometimes, you know that?” Colin said, his voice devoid of any real bite.

Bradley grinned.  ”Thought that was why you loved me,” he said as Colin began to walk past him.  He reached out and wrapped his hand around Colin’s elbow just before Colin could get away, tugging him close again to whisper in his ear.

“And I’m sure your scarf will cover up that mark on your neck, anyway.”

Colin’s eyes widened, his hand flying up to his neck as Bradley turned and walked away.  His fingers skated along until they found a particularly tender spot, and Colin winced slightly as he dug gently into what was sure to be a rapidly darkening bruise.

The make-up girls were going to hate him.

—

(gif by onceplusfuture)

Arthur was standing in the snow, a red scarf wrapped snug around his neck and his hands buried deep in his pockets.  His breath came in soft white puffs as he beamed up at Merlin from where he stood on the front step, all rosy cheeks and bouncing on his heels to fight the chill of the night.

Merlin hadn’t seen him look so beautiful since that midwinter night in Camelot—the one that, now, in the dim London glow, felt like little more than a dream.

“I knew I’d find you again,” Arthur breathed before stepping forward and capturing Merlin’s lips with his own.

Like Home 

Take me by the tongue, and I’ll know you.
Kiss me ‘til you’re drunk, and I’ll show you…

Merlin set down his drink at the bar as he scanned the club around him.  He knew it was silly, even ridiculous, to expect to find what he was looking for here, but he’d felt drawn to this place—drawn in that familiar, hopeful way he could never begin to explain.

If the hum of the song blaring through the room was drawing him out into the crowd of people, Merlin wasn’t fighting it.  He closed his eyes and let the light buzz of alcohol wash over him, let the pulsing bass settle in his chest and flow through his body, let that intangible tug guide him wherever it pleased.

Hands of strangers slid along his sides briefly as he moved aimlessly, but he ignored them.  He went easily as the crowd around him jostled him this way and that, and finally he opened his eyes, feeling a warmth settle over him that had nothing to do with the thick, stifling air of the room.  

Merlin frowned slightly, waiting for his head to stop spinning at the flashing lights above him and ignoring the men and women slithering against each other all around him.  Then there was someone in front of him, blond hair and broad shoulders, facing away from Merlin, and without quite meaning to, he reached out until his hand found the man’s shoulder.

The man turned to face him, blue eyes darkened with something Merlin couldn’t identify, and Merlin’s hand slid down until it reached the center of his back, pressing him in close.  He came easily to Merlin and their gazes locked, suddenly and with no intention of shifting anytime soon, causing Merlin to suck in a deep breath to fight the dizzy, heady feeling threatening to swallow him whole.

I don’t need to try to control you;
Look into my eyes and I’ll own you…

Merlin looped his arms loosely around the man’s neck as a pair of hands settled, firm and warm, on Merlin’s waist.  Merlin let him take control and guide Merlin so their bodies moved together, and a light shiver ran through him as those hands slid to his hips and dragged him closer.  At that, Merlin looked away, feeling all at once overwhelmed at the intensity of the blue eyes opposite him, and instead dropped his forehead onto the man’s shoulder.  The man’s grip on Merlin’s hips only tightened, coaxing them into the same rhythm as his own as they moved to the music.

The warmth of the alcohol coursing through him was nothing compared to the heat of the man’s breath mingling with his own or the burn of the man’s eyes, still focused on him even after Merlin had to look away.  Merlin’s controlled demeanor was already slipping, his breath hitching as the other man’s hips began pushing against his own again and again.

Then fingers were curling around his wrist and the man was pulling away from him, and Merlin barely had time to open his eyes before he was being tugged roughly through the crowd.  He followed wordlessly, slightly dazed, and soon he was slipping through a door in the back of a club into a dim, empty alleyway behind the building; he soon found himself pinned against the bricks as a hot mouth descended on his own, and he curled his fingers into the man’s shirt and kissed back without hesitation.

Merlin once again let him take over, parting his lips to slide his tongue against the one demanding entrance.  He sighed as the man licked into his mouth insistently, winding his fingers into Merlin’s hair and tilting Merlin’s head back for better access as he stole every breath and swallowed every moan escaping Merlin’s throat. 

Then his free hand was roaming lower down Merlin’s body until it was pressing against the swell in Merlin’s jeans, and Merlin groaned as his head fell against the wall behind him, the bricks still vibrating dully with the thrum of life inside the club.  The man began stroking lightly, too much and nowhere near enough all at once, and Merlin arched desperately into the touch, only to receive a soft laugh in response.

“Should’ve known,” the man murmured into his ear, and Merlin very nearly lost it as the man slid down Merlin’s body to kneel on the ground, pushing a hand underneath Merlin’s shirt and kissing the skin of his stomach as he thumbed open Merlin’s jeans.

Nothing, Merlin decided, could have quite prepared him for the feeling of the man’s mouth closing around him only moments later, hot and sure, or the way he peered up at Merlin through blond lashes as he began working his mouth steadily on Merlin’s cock without hesitation.  Broken moans tore from Merlin’s throat as the man licked and sucked noisily, and Merlin wasn’t going to last long like this, with bright blue eyes focused on him as if waiting to see him come apart, a flush high on the man’s cheeks as he palmed himself through his own jeans while he sucked.

Merlin sank his fingers into soft blond hair and it only encouraged the man further, prompting him to swallow around Merlin’s cock, and that was it, Merlin knew couldn’t hold on any longer; he fisted his hand in the man’s hair, trying to warn him to pull away, but instead of sliding off, the man remained firmly where he was, swallowing around Merlin yet again.

Merlin came with a gasp and a shudder seconds later, his hand going limp in the man’s hair, and it wasn’t until he’d swallowed down all Merlin gave him that the man finally slid off.  Merlin dragged him up, bringing their faces level again and capturing his lips in a sloppy kiss, chasing the taste of himself around the man’s mouth.

He felt limp and practically boneless, but it didn’t stop him from shifting his thigh to press between the other man’s legs.  The man let out something like a whine, his face dropping to the curve of Merlin’s neck, and Merlin curled his fingers around the man’s hips, slotting their bodies together more firmly and encouraging him to move.

“Come on,” Merlin murmured as their hips grinded together, and the man responded by rutting steadily against Merlin, small groans escaping him with every movement.  “Come on, that’s it, come on…”

Desperate hands fisted into Merlin’s shirt as Merlin continued coaxing, his mouth pressed against the shell of the man’s ear, until the man finally came with a groan, waves of shudders wracking his body until he collapsed against Merlin.  Merlin stroked a hand down his back, feeling the dampness of the sweat beneath his shirt, and they worked to catch their breaths, eventually sinking together to the ground.

“Of all the places to finally find you again,” Merlin panted after a few minutes, closing his eyes, “I really didn’t expect it to be a place like this.”

He heard a light huff of laughter and a mumble of Took you long enough before warm arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, and Merlin dropped his head to rest on the man’s chest, sighing.  He felt something age-old slot into place within him, followed by the overwhelming sense of coming home.

“Missed you, Arthur,” Merlin murmured.  He breathed in Arthur’s scent, reveling in the familiarity of it; time and time again, unfailingly, Arthur always smelled the same.

Arthur’s grip on him tightened and Merlin thought he felt him let out a tiny, contented sigh.  ”I’ve missed you too, Merlin,” Arthur whispered, dropping a kiss to Merlin’s hair.

Run 

cee and i started talking about the song “run” by snow patrol and then this fic happened, shamelessly and totally based off that song

**

“Arthur—”

“Merlin, we have to go.”  Arthur was throwing things haphazardly onto the bed to pack, unsure of all that Merlin would need and determined to send him off with whatever he could.

If the guards weren’t on their way yet, they would be soon.

“Arthur, please.”  Merlin’s fingers suddenly curled into the sleeve of his tunic, and his were eyes locked on Arthur’s desperately, as if letting the gaze slip would send Merlin spiraling into darkness.  His voice dropped to a whisper.  “Please, Arthur, tell me again.”

Arthur stared back and swallowed, taking in the fear in Merlin’s eyes before bringing a hand up to rest against Merlin’s cheek.

“Merlin,” he said softly.  “I’ll say it one last time for you, and then we really, really have to go.”

Merlin nodded, fiercely blinking back the tears threatening to fall, but holding Arthur’s gaze silently.

“You,” Arthur told him sincerely, “have been the one good thing in all my life.  The one, constant right in the midst of all the wrongs.  I’ll come back for you; you know I will.  This isn’t forever, Merlin, I promise.”

Merlin’s hands were starting to shake now, and Arthur pulled Merlin against him, holding him tightly and briefly wondering how he was going to bring himself to let go in a few minutes.  “I know you, and I know you’ll be okay,” he whispered.  “I know we’ll be okay.  Merlin, I look at you and I know we can make it anywhere from here.”

Arthur’s voice broke even as he said the words, and he wasn’t sure when his eyes started stinging the way they were now, and suddenly Merlin’s hand was curled around his nape, fingers sliding gently into his hair as he coaxed Arthur to look into his face.

“I know,” Merlin whispered.  His eyes held that familiar strength Arthur had seen so many times, the one he wasn’t quite sure how to identify, the one he thought might have something to do with the magic flowing through Merlin’s veins and pumping steadily through his heart.

Arthur let his fingers trace Merlin’s jaw, his lips, over the soft skin of his temple.  He tried to memorize every inch of Merlin’s face, and suddenly he felt his own stomach give a painful lurch.  Neither of them knew how long not forever was going to be, after all.  The thought that he might forget Merlin’s face, the warmth of his touch, his eyes, his eyes—

“Arthur.”  Merlin’s quiet, firm voice broke through his thoughts. 

There was the tiniest hint of something like a comforting smile on his lips.  Arthur look one look at it and suddenly his lips were forming words, his voice broken and choked.  “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered shakily.  “I can’t—”

“You can,” Merlin assured him.  He curled his fingers a little more firmly into Arthur’s hair.  “You’re going to be a great king, Arthur, and I’ll be right there with you the whole time.  You’ll light up the whole of Camelot.  It’s who you are; it’s who you were always going to be.”

Arthur choked out a laugh at the sentiment, desperately grasping for some tiny shreds of normality between them.  “For God’s sake, stop being such a girl, Merlin.”  Merlin kept his eyes on Arthur’s, though, fixing him with an unfaltering, earnest gaze, and Arthur’s forced smile slowly faded.  “And until then?” he finally asked, the fierce ache of reality settling in his chest again.

Merlin closed his eyes at that, leaning forward to touch his forehead to Arthur’s.  “Until then, I’ll be with you anyway.  Even if you can’t see me or hear my voice.  I’m never leaving you, Arthur.  Never.”

The promise sliced straight through Arthur’s anxiety and settled around his heart, blanketing it in warmth.  Merlin’s tone was sure, and his hands were confident as they gripped Arthur’s neck, and suddenly—suddenly, Arthur really believed it.

He pulled Merlin to him again, pressing him against his chest and sighing as Merlin dropped his head onto Arthur’s shoulder.

“Don’t give up, and don’t forget me,” Merlin whispered against his neck.

“Never,” Arthur murmured into his hair.  Never.

A crash and a series of shouts caused them both to start.  Arthur looked toward the door, then back at Merlin, and he immediately saw the set of his jaw and the hard, determined glint in Merlin’s eyes.

“We have to go,” Merlin said firmly.

**

As they cleared the city walls and the hum of Camelot life faded to silence, Arthur silently tugged Merlin aside, pushing him firmly against the stone and immediately closing the distance between them.  He kissed him, desperate and close, kissed all the breath out of him, kissed promises for their future into his mouth and his jaw and his neck, and then he wound his fingers into Merlin’s hair and recaptured Merlin’s mouth with his own. 

His other hand remained curled around Merlin’s waist tightly enough to bruise as Arthur clung to him, and he wondered if he was imagining the whispers of I’ll wait for you and This isn’t goodbye and I’ll always love you passing between their lips.

Then, they ran.

Always 

“Merlin—mate, you know we’ll always be best friends, right?”

Of course Merlin knew.  He and Arthur had been inseparable since the day they met.  Arthur liked to make fun of Merlin’s ears and clumsiness and Merlin liked to smack Arthur upside the head sometimes, but it didn’t mean either had ever left the other’s side.

You know we’ll always be best friends, right?

Merlin never doubted it.  He didn’t doubt it when he’d watched Arthur withdraw into himself as he mourned the death of his father.  He didn’t doubt it when they’d met their other friends like Gwaine and Lance and Gwen and Merlin had to resign himself to sharing Arthur—because, really, he knew no one would ever have Arthur quite like Merlin had him.

Merlin didn’t even doubt it when Arthur had burst into the flat one day, eyes aglow with joy and face bubbling with as much happiness as Merlin had ever seen.  Later, Merlin would isolate that moment—that first glimpse of Arthur that day—and keep it close to his heart.  He would look back on it with fondness and wrap himself up in the memory, because when Arthur smiled that way, Merlin wanted to kiss him to soak up all the joy, taste the delight and lick it from Arthur’s lips, feel the lightness soar through his own heart the way it did Arthur’s.

Merlin still didn’t doubt their solid, unshakeable relationship today, and he couldn’t keep the tender smile from his lips as he approached Arthur, who was pacing nervously, looking painfully wonderful in a clean, crisp tuxedo.  Arthur looked up as Merlin approached, his anxious demeanor immediately melting into a warm, peaceful smile as he saw him.

“Well?  How do I look?” Arthur asked as he straightened up, spreading his arms wide for Merlin’s inspection.  Merlin gave him a once-over—which he most certainly didn’t really need to do, because he already knew Arthur was looking sinfully attractive, as he always did—and nodded approvingly before reaching up to straighten his slightly crooked bowtie.

“You could be a prince, looking this dashing,” Merlin remarked fondly.  He raised his eyes to meet Arthur’s gaze and was greeted with a sincere, equally fond look.

“Thanks,” Arthur said softly.  He took a deep breath and then looked over Merlin’s shoulder at large, wooden doors waiting to be opened.  “Shall we?”

Merlin nodded and Arthur slipped past him.  He closed his eyes, taking a moment to collect himself before turning and following Arthur out of the doors, and peered out at the sight before him.

Rows and rows of seats held everyone they knew and then some, dressed to the nines and all grinning broadly.  And there, at the end of the aisle, stood Gwen, breathtaking and positively glowing in a long, white dress.

Merlin squeezed Arthur’s shoulder before moving to take his place near him at the front, keeping an impressively convincing (if he did say so himself) smile on his face whilst carefully ignoring the familiar pain that sliced through his chest like an old, bitter companion.

We’ll always be best friends.

As Merlin watched Arthur take Gwen’s hands in his own, he decided that just because he was best man at Arthur’s wedding, it didn’t mean he couldn’t vow to get thoroughly drunk after toasting Arthur to a long and happy life with someone who wasn’t him.

Fic: Until Morning 

(~1k.  nicole is wonderful for helping me with some of the trickier bits of this.)

It was partly the shift in weight and the shock of cool air next to him that made Bradley aware of Colin slipping out of the large hotel bed. More than that, it was the sudden loss of the warm hand stroking down his spine, fingers carding through his hair, and lips occasionally pressed against his temple that dragged Bradley out of his half-asleep daze.

He forced his eyes open, waiting for them to adjust to the darkness, and finally focused on Colin’s shadowy figure moving around the room. Moonlight slipped through the blinds over the windows and cascaded over Colin’s pale, bare shoulders as he bent low to the floor to scoop up his jeans.

—His jeans?

Bradley frowned and pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Colin?” he whispered, his voice low and hoarse with sleep. “What’re you doing?”

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tags: #hahaHA lauren that's what you get for posting things about gwen and arthur and MARRIAGE #my writing #youstolemycake

youstolemycake:

what if arthur and gwen get married and she wakes him up by opening the curtains and he just says “Merlin” because he’s so used to it being merlin 

but it’s gwen 

and then he opens his eyes and see her and is like “gwen what the fuck who let you in here where is merlin” 

“arthur we’re married”

“…hmmm” 

Arthur woke with the heavy drowsiness that comes with having drunk a bit too much the night before without having gotten completely pissed.

All the same, he decided he rather liked the world better for now with his eyes shut against the light threatening to invade.  And then there were hands—Merlin’s soft hands skating over his bare chest, and he inhaled deeply as he leaned into the touch instinctively.  He felt anticipatory heat pooling in his lower body as one hand began moving slowly downward, but it stopped at his hip.

Lips.  Kisses pressed gently against his neck, slowly moving down to his collarbone, while a nose nudged at his jaw.  Arthur smiled softly, imagining the sleepy droop of Merlin’s eyelids that always came with this early hour, growing more and more content to lie here with his eyes closed and let this happen, let Merlin have him however he wanted him right now.

Arthur let a light moan escape his lips as Merlin sucked a kiss into the hollow of his collarbone, and then his lips were moving up, up, up over his chin and to the corner of his mouth.  He sighed and felt the warmth come back to him immediately, mixed with hot breath escaping from the lips now just barely brushing his.

“Merlin,” he murmured softly.

And then soft hair was tickling his face.  Which only happened when Merlin was nuzzling into Arthur’s neck, which he most certainly wasn’t, and without actually deciding to, Arthur opened his eyes immediately.

Gwen was hovering over him, her face framed by her loose, dark curls.  She’d drawn away from him slightly; her lips were pressed together, and her eyes were filled with something like sadness but not quite like surprise.

“Arthur,” Gwen said softly, “last night was our wedding.”

Merlin’s gaze was careful and measured, surveying Arthur with just the right amount of disdain and pity to make it feel lethal, and Arthur wondered briefly where Merlin learned to do this, to send a lance soaring directly through Arthur’s heart with a single gaze.

It was likely he learned it from Arthur.

“I can’t stay here,” Merlin said quietly.  His tone carried a note of finality that sent a cold dread crashing through the pit of Arthur’s stomach.  ”I can’t just sit here and keep living in the middle of everything that ever went wrong for me.  For us.”

He was inching away now, and if Arthur had felt like there was an ounce of strength left in his body, he would have followed.  Merlin would no longer meet his eyes.

“I can’t spend every day having to face everything I regret,” Merlin finished, and if a note of I’m sorry rang through the silence that followed, Arthur didn’t want to accept the apology.

And then suddenly Merlin was turning away, tensing as if readying himself for something that could never be undone, and Arthur found himself reaching out to grasp his arm before he could even think.  And somehow, when Merlin’s eyes met his again, words proceeded to tumble from Arthur’s mouth without his consent.

“Say anything you want, Merlin.  Anything at all about me, about our relationship, about my mistakes, about what a selfish bastard I am; I don’t care.”  Arthur swallowed, his fingers curling a little more desperately around Merlin’s arm.  ”But don’t say what I know you don’t mean.  Don’t say you regret even a moment of us, Merlin, because I never have, and I never will.”

Fic: Mine (Day In, Day Out) [HAPPY BIRTHDAY BELLA] 

for bella’s birthday.  basically, bella, i looked at your list of 100 merthur headcanons and tried to pack as many as i possibly could into one sweet, fluffy, give-you-cavities fic [i think i managed around thirty-five of them].  happy birthday and if you love it even a fraction of the amount i love you, i’ve done my job <3

(big thank you to caitlin for looking it over <3)

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In which Arthur’s job is stressful, Merlin’s hobbies are demanding, both of them make time for each other regardless, and—most importantly—Merlin is Arthur’s favorite person in the world.

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Read More

Forbidden 

Arthur stared hard and unblinking at the man standing before him—the gold now slipping from those bright blue eyes, gone as quickly as it had appeared as if the soft wind through the forest clearing had carried it away, and the horror in Merlin’s face may have even rivaled Arthur’s.

Somehow, it wasn’t surprise that was ripping through Arthur like a hurricane.  It was the slow, wicked sear of betrayal.

“Merlin,” he breathed, because it was the only word he could seem to push out at the moment.  Even to his own ears, there was hardly a note of shock present in his tone; it was simply unbearable, heavy sadness.

Because in a way, Arthur thought he had always known.  There was always something off about Merlin, something low and underlying—something secret, something forbidden.  And maybe Arthur had always known this moment would come, when they had to stop pretending was normal and fine, had to give up the blissful façade for the cold, unforgiving truth.  Because now it was out in the open, laid bare between them and demanding to be addressed, impossible to ignore any longer, and thoughts of Why, Merlin, why did you  do that? swam through Arthur’s head.

Merlin, despite the storm of emotions playing across his own face, looked almost infuriatingly calm overall.  “Arthur,” he began.

“What, Merlin?” Arthur said wearily.  He suddenly felt exhausted, but it didn’t stop the swell of emotion threatening to burst forth from him.  “What?  You’re a—”

“Don’t,” Merlin said, his tone surprisingly even.  He raised his eyes to meet Arthur’s, and there was something almost like a sad plea in them—as if there was some intended way this was all supposed to go, and this wasn’t it.

But Arthur had seen it.  He had seen it, he had seen Merlin using magic, and it was too late to go back now, and he wasn’t going to let him lie any longer, not when he could already feel the knife in his back. 

“Don’t what?” Arthur snarled.  The poison of the betrayal was quickly bubbling into something that felt close to anger. “Don’t say it?  Then you say it, Merlin.  Say it.  We both know now who—what you really are.  Just say it.”

Merlin stared at him, eyes wide with regret.  “Arthur, please,” he begged.  “Just…”  He closed his eyes, let out a breath.  “Give me a chance.”

Arthur couldn’t help the bitter, strangled laugh that forced its way around the lump in his throat and erupted from him.  “A chance?  Merlin, you’re a sorcerer.”

Merlin flinched at the word, but opened his eyes again.  “I was always going to tell you, Arthur,” he insisted quietly.

“Then why the hell didn’t you?”

“Because of you!”  Merlin voice was suddenly loud, penetrating the quiet of the forest and ringing through the trees around them.  “Because I didn’t want to lose everything we had; I didn’t want you to throw away every last scrap of faith you had in me over this!  And you would have, Arthur, you would have doubted everything, would have questioned my every motive—”

“A bit like I should be doing now, then?” Arthur spat.

Merlin’s eyes widened slightly in fear.  “Please,” he tried again, his voice softening.  He took a step towards Arthur, but stopped as Arthur lifted his sword in warning, and Merlin simply eyed the blade sadly before looking to Arthur’s face again.  “Everything I do is for you, Arthur,” Merlin finally said. 

“Don’t you dare associate this with me,” Arthur hissed.

“No!  Not—”  Merlin sighed.  “Don’t you see, Arthur?  Not just the—the magic.  It’s all been for you, to help you, to protect you.  From the day I arrived in Camelot—every moment, everything I’ve done, only for you.  Always, all for you.  You have to believe that.  I’m begging you to believe that.”

Arthur held Merlin’s gaze steadily.  They couldn’t stumble back across the line they’d crossed here, couldn’t tease and joke their way back to everything is okay.  And the swirl of tension in the air began to settle heavily around them into something much more final, much more irreversible.

Because Arthur didn’t believe him.

Merlin’s arms hung uselessly at his sides as he stared at Arthur, the tiniest bit of hope still clinging to his features, and Merlin looked almost as spent as Arthur felt. 

“Let me fix this,” Merlin whispered.

“You can’t,” Arthur said immediately.  His voice had lost its harsh, biting tone, and it was even regretful—but it was firm.  There was no pretending anymore.  Not even Merlin and his forbidden magic could fix this, no matter how painfully it made Arthur’s gut twist to watch the remaining hope slip from Merlin’s eyes.

Arthur broke the gaze and turned away—took a step, and then another step, forced himself to keep moving.  Because the only thing more painful than the distance growing between them now would have been to remain rooted to the spot, staring into the useless plea of Merlin’s eyes.