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Modern AU: Everyone keeps assuming that Merlin and Arthur are together, so as a joke, they start pretending it's true. And then, suddenly, it is.
A story of giant teddy bears, meddling sisters, nonexistent homoerotic subtext (or is it?), and accidentally falling in love.
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Bookmarked by HelpMe2914
01 Aug 2024
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"You can take Daisy out to fetch the cloak-"
"How do you know that?"
Arthur closed his eyes, expression riddled with irritation before turning to look at Merlin expectantly.
"Know what?"
“The mare I use. You know I call her Daisy? I never told you that." Merlin explained. Arthur stared for a few moments. He could see the flicker of emotions pass easily over him. Anger, annoyance, exasperation, indignance, and finally acceptance...AKA the Five Stages of Grief (Pendragon Edition).
"You talk to the horse.” He pointed out. Merlin narrowed his eyes.
“I whisper to the horse."
"...am I supposed to not hear it?” Arthur asked. Merlin wondered how likely it would be that he also heard him whispering magical spells if he heard him murmuring to the bloody horse. “Also, only you would choose such a ridiculous name.” He muttered. Merlin swallowed. This wasn't a problem at all, right? Right.
Or
Merlin knows Arthur well. Better than he knew himself apparently. What he hadn't expected was for Arthur to know his servant just as well... This causes problems. (also known as "The Time Merlin Had a Mental Breakdown Over Arthur Being a Normal Human")
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Bookmarked by HelpMe2914
31 Jul 2024
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“Isn’t this nice?” says Aziraphale with badly feigned casualness the next time Crowley stops by for a late night drink.
Crowley is all set to reply, words lined up in his mouth waiting to go, when Aziraphale adds,
“I mean, all of the books and furniture and bottles of wine and things?”
Aziraphale nests. Crowley relearns some crucial facts about angelic courtship rituals.
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Bookmarked by HelpMe2914
29 Jul 2024
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The body of a Prince was not like anyone’s. His hand only ever held others in a firm handshake, and rarely without gloves. Sometimes he would raise the delicate hands of noble ladies to his lips for a brief kiss, but it was all out of propriety. He rarely touched others, but what was even rarer was others touching him. The only ones who dared were his knights, and even they only smacked his shoulder or patted his back in friendly roughhousing. Gripping each other’s arms before battle was the most heartfelt touch they exchanged. Lingering soft touches were not done. Any lingering touch on his person could be interpreted as political movements. After all, Arthur’s body wasn’t his own. It never had been. He was Camelot’s first and foremost. Even above his own needs and wants.
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Bookmarked by HelpMe2914
29 Jul 2024
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Kings, even new ones, were not supposed to long for their menservants. They shouldn't let their eyes linger on their wrists, the plump of their lips, or the shape of their thighs. Arthur knew this, but he still wanted. There was nothing about Merlin he didn't want.
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Bookmarked by HelpMe2914
29 Jul 2024