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the blush in your cheeks says that you bleed like me
mature, no archive warnings, arthur pendragon/merlin, 770 word count
Arthur gazes at Merlinâs sleeping form and understands that he is, in essence, power; someone formidable, someone others even find fearsome.
But the rosiness in his cheeks, the soft breaths that prompt his shoulders to rise and fall, the bumps that graze up his forearms in the wake of the evening winds â they say otherwise.
written for Quest Four: Canon What Canon? from the sorcererâs guild :)
read on ao3 or continue below!
Slothful eyes amble open as Arthur stirs, his blond hair a perspired mess on his forehead. His eyes are greeted by warmth in the late sun, and he recalls where he is as he comes to: in the forest, afront a brook. He lies on a picnic blanket with Merlin whom he can tell still sleeps beside him by the steady breaths that sound.
The cloth beneath him itches at his skin, but he canât find a reason to care as his gaze meanders over the tree limbs and their accompanying leaves that branch over his head, cast in warm light from the evening sun. Merlin has always loved mornings when the birds rise and the world sings in the light of a new day. But Arthur has always favored this time of day, when the sun is alluring with gold and everything in its light appears rich with heat.
Blossoming vines hang from the trees above the pair, flowering in reds, oranges, yellows, and pinks. Blooms of similar hues dot the grass, sprouting only around where Merlin and Arthur lay. The birds above sang an encore of their morning chorus, and Arthur almost wishes Merlin was awake to hear it.
Almost, because he looks to Merlin â who is the reason the forest flourishes in the pairâs presence â and sees how lulled by sleep the sorcerer is, a euphoric calm so rare Arthur wouldnât dare interrupt it.
He smiles as he thinks of how Merlin has grown to be so gently held by slumber; earlier in the evening, Arthur had surprised Merlin with a picnic â though it was quite obvious Merlin was far from surprised.
âHow did you know?â Arthur had asked with an unbelieving smile.
Merlin had shaken his head, a twin smile on his lips, though his was accompanied by a blush. âI donât know how, honest!â he had said, laughing out his words. âYouâre just easy to read, I sâpose.â
Arthur had remarked that Merlin was a clotpole, then.
Later, before they had even finished their meal, Merlin had leaned into Arthur. One thing led to another, and after spilling the strawberries in the grass in their fervor â much to Arthurâs jesting dismay â theyâd had one another, just there on the blanket beside the creek.
Now, here they lay, Merlin asleep, curled up on his side an armâs reach from Arthur, and the latter finds himself waking to a forest in a better state than it had been before he slept. Itâs no new occurrence, the two of them having lain together and woken to a sight like this before, but the bliss Arthur feels after being with the sorcerer is no lesser than that heâd felt the first time.
Merlin, still asleep, lays with something blanketing him â Arthurâs overcoat, the blond notes in the back of his mind â and is clothed in nothing more than the sunâs warmth. The coat rests just below his bare shoulders and carries down to his thighs, the only barrier between his body and the evening breeze. As the man across from him shivers in the hush of the wind, Arthur reaches over and pulls the makeshift blanket up past Merlinâs shoulders.
While Merlin is keen to avoid the earthâs breaths, Arthur welcomes them; the humidity is like syrup on his skin, as is what Merlin left him with after having been contented.
The king looks to his servant; he dislikes those titlesâ uses between them, but Merlin takes everlasting pride in them. He worries they belittle the latter; granted, he has done plenty of that himself during the years he and Merlin have spent beside one another, but those were only jests â ones Merlin reciprocated, at that. When it counts, Arthur doesnât quite know how to give to the sorcerer all that he is owed, for all that he has done, not only for Arthur but the whole of Albion.
Merlin, being the literal embodiment of magic on this earth, power and nature and beauty, prompts Arthur to wonder how all of that can fit into his best friend, his companion, his lover, hisâ well, he couldnât come up with a name for who they were to one another any better than he could place the feeling within him.
His gaze strays from the brunet beside him for not a moment, and he wonders idly if that feeling â the one he couldnât quite name, as neither love nor any of its kin was ever quite strong enough â will consume him. He realizes, while his eyes lull back into a comfortable close, that he would not mind much if it had.
/|\
thank you so much for reading, seriously! I hope you liked it :) if it suits ya fancy, a comment would mean the world to me. otherwise, no worries! I appreciate you having read regardless <3
Prompt ~ Person A and Person B are asleep one morning. Person C tries to wake them up, excited about plans for the day. Person A: âYour datemate is awake.â Person B: âBefore the sun rises, theyâre your datemate.â
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You poke and prod at your partners, shove at their shoulders, and rip off the blanketsâanything to get their butts into gear!
Finally, you hear a gravely grumble, âYour partnerâs awake...â
âYours before sunrise,â Len palms for the sorely-missed blanket. No! Youâre going to wake them up if itâs the last thing you do!
Hey!
Mick rolls you under his squishy bulk. You squirm beneath him until his and Lenâs eyes crack open at last. Mickâs breath beats steadily upon you while Len glares you into submission, âI planned for us to wake up in one hour, seventeen minutes from now. You donât need to sleep; you just need to let us sleep.â
â...Fine,â you huff your surrender.
Mick rolls off you once they recover the covers. Actually, this is really warm...
Zzz...
You bolt awake when you feel your partners tickling you to death. Youâre up! Youâre up!! Youâre up!!! They smirk victoriously while you wheeze and untangle yourself from the blankets. You scowl at their smugness, which merely elicits chuckles and the dreaded how adorable instead the intimidation factor youâre aiming for. Jerks.
TW: living on the streets, poverty, referenced cockroaches, referenced metahuman racism, poor health (nothing graphic ~ a few references to hunger here and there and one sentence about how your powers compound with hunger to make you feel cold all the time)
AO3 link
Betaed by Toni
Hockey chat adapted from Renegades React to ERB: Tony Hawk vs Wayne Gretzky.
Sequel
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"...Cold."
âThatâs my name; donât wear it out,â an asshole smirks before frowning on sight of you shivering in an alleyway. Â He wraps his fluffy coat around you and offers to escort you to a shelter. Â It wonât last long before someone discovers why you havenât felt warm since the goddamn particle accelerator exploded, but youâll stay until life dumps more misfortune upon you.
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You sense a presence staring you down, so you prepare to fight for your half a cheeseburger until your gaze lands on that asshole from last time. Â His once pristine parka is caked in grime along with the rest of your clothes and any free square inch of skin.
He hums sternly, âI wouldâve brought you somewhere else if youâd told me you were a meta.â
Youâre not much of a meta right now when all you can do is summon a snowflake. Â You punch him in the face when he calls you cute. Â Hunger has slowed you down, but this smug jerk doesnât even have the decency to act surprised after catching your fist.
He uncoils your fist, transferring his grip into one that can help you out of the dumpster. Â He hands you a helmet and a pair of goggles when you reach his motorcycle. Â The hood of his parka flaps behind you as you shiver even harder. Â Onlookers might think you're hugging your boyfriend during a joyride.
He brings you to a bungalow in a neighborhood where the houses give each other a wide berth. Â He hands you a set of keys, yet you lockpick the door instead. Â It takes your shaky hands more tries than it should, but it clicks at last. Â You stare at him. Â You want him to know exactly what kind of cutie heâs bringing home.
...Does anything faze this asshole??? Â Offering shelter to a metahuman thief isn't normal!
He shows you where you can wash and dry your clothes after giving you a set of pajamas and a pair of socks to change into. Â You take a shower while you wait, the moment between nakedness and stepping in under the water a lifetime in the arctic. Â His shampoo, body wash, and shaving cream are all alpine-scented. Â You dry yourself off as fast as possible and rush into these fuzzy clothes. Â Theyâre loose on your starving frame, but that only bothers you because your shoulder freezes when your t-shirt becomes lopsided.
Heâs fixing two mugs of hot chocolate while home style scents charge into your nostrils: some sort of chowder concoction with chicken and herbs that reminds you what warmth feels like after all this time frostbitten by your own body. Â This warmth lingers inside you instead of vanishing within seconds.
âMarshmallows or no marshmallows?â
You squint at him. Â Do you deplete his marshmallow stockpile or not? Â Youâre already in his house, wearing his clothes, and about to eat his food. Â Is a couple itty bitty marshmallows gonna break his bank?
He pours them in before you belatedly add, âPlease.â
He grabs the remote. Â A hockey game flickers on. Â The timer ticking down entertains you more than the players: a flurry of seconds melting the minutes to the next period.
âNot a fan?â he asks good-naturedly. Â He already knows the answer. Â Heâs not the only person who can be an asshole.
âI love all forms of sportsball; look at all dem points.â You pause to let him chuckle. âDo they use a sportsball in hockey or this just an excuse to murder people with deformed canoe paddles?â Your comic genius has him swooning. âThank you. Iâll be here until you kick me out.â
âI guess youâll be here forever then. Â I never kick out cute, comedic thieves.â
âIâm not cute!â
âDid you just hiss?â he chuckles. âLike a kitten???â
âNo! That was obviously a cockroach hiss.â
âCockroaches donât hiss.â
âYes, they do,â You nod with wide eyes. Â Itâs probably melted by now, but once upon a time, you left a glacier of those things behind as you dashed out of that warehouse fast enough to give Flash a run for his money. Â Speaking of the Scarlet Speedster... âYou stole money from a bank? Â While it was still in the bank?? Â Why didnât you just take it from the truck like a normal person???â
âHighways are dangerous battlefields.â
âWhy do you want to battle him at all? Â Selling candy stolen from babies is a more efficient way to earn money.â
âI donât do it for the money.â
âObviously not, Captain Caught.â
âI got out in time to rescue you from street food,â he smirks.
One of these barbsâll chip the ice! âIâd be in an out before Flash even knew there was a crime.â
âEfficiencyâs not the name of the game, Snowflake,â he refills your bowl and exchanges your mug for a bottle of water, âa game youâre more than welcome to play once you feel warm for longer than half an hour at a time.â He sets your clothes and the parka beside you before giving you the remote. âYou should take some notes. Â Iâm heading in early tonight. Â Donât let the bed bugs bite.â
Heâs halfway down the hall when you chuck a snowball at him, âCockroaches are insects, asshole!â
âNever mind, you need to work on your aim,â he says when your projectile crashes into his bookcase instead of his face. Â You shoot for his smirk yet hit his fridge. âI didnât even have to flinch from that.â You glare at him in your fluffy parka. âYou pout cute, too.â
Oh for fucking get it!
Your attempt to tackle him ends with you trapped between him and the wall. Â Heâs yawning while leaning against you so casually, yet you exhaust yourself struggling in seconds.
âYouâre fiery for a cryo meta.â Something makes his smile fond instead of patronizing... like he sees you as a person instead of a raging blizzard. Â You want to stay mad at him because you didnât at the everything you shouldâve stayed mad at, yet you defrost instead because his warmth is sticking around, too.
You stand there like an idiot before switching the TV off. Â Thereâs his room and the guest room: your room until he finally learns youâre more trouble than your worth. Â The doors to both are wide open. Â Heâs reading on the side of his king-sized bed. Â The pillows and blankets look hastily repositionedâas if theyâd been centered until recently.
He smiles when you cross the great divide and settle next to him. Â He hasnât kicked you out of his bedroom, heâs not gonna require permission to enter his bed. Â Your parka and the blankets muffle most of the shivering. Â Him spooning you curbs the rest.
Your neckâs on fire where he pecks it, âGood night, Snowflake.â
â...Nighâ, Capâin.â He gathers you closer once you slur that.
This is a reminder to all homophobic/transphobic/whateverphobic assholes to FUCK OFF!!!
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Hale doesnât really get it,
âSo when someone transitions from female to male, do they stop having periods? Why arenât all women transgender?? Who willingly bleeds to death every month if they never want children???â
but by god, does he try!
Youâre drowning your depression with the foulest ale in a dive bar when Hale taps your shoulder, âThat dudeâs checking you ou~outâŹâ
You know which dude heâs talking about: the one with cunning, slate eyes and shorn, peppery hair... You down another gulp before leering at your well-meaning, easily excitable roommate.
âWhen you want water, you want either hot water for coffee or cold water for iced tea. Nobody wants lukewarm water.â
âBut lukewarm waterâs fine for baking!â
âThatâs not the point!â you set your glass down on the counter with a clunk. âThis kinda stuff may not matter to you, but Parka Michael Scofield wants coffee or iced tea, not... an ingredient!â
He hangs his head dejectedly. Somebody needs to set him straight; otherwise, someone a lot less merciful than you will break his heart.
Yet instead of learning anything, he stands on the counter and shouts, âPARKA MICHAEL SCOFIELD! MY FRIEND THINKS YOUâRE HOT, AND YOU THINK MY FRIENDâS HOT!! IF YOU STOP THINKING MY FRIENDâS HOT CUZ YOUâRE TRANSPHOBIC, IâLL KILL YOU!!!â
Youâre too mature to bang your head against the counter, yet you mutter please let me have hallucinated that with your head in your hands. You speak up when the bartender brings you another drink, âI didnâtââ
âItâs on the house, babe,â she says longsufferingly. âThe only person in Central who has crazier friends than you is Parka Michael Scofieldâwhoâs pan, by the wayâso if heâs anything less than a gentleman with you, Iâll help your friend get away with murder. And if anybody bothers you in my bar, Iâll kill them myself.â
Youâre too stunned to thank her, shaking out of your daze only when MichaelâLen, he introduces himself with a kind charismaâstrides up to your side to ask, âWould you like to take this somewhere quieter, doll?â
You have your answer when the bartender yells, âGet off my counter!!!â
A buzzed Lincoln Burrows lookalike applauds Haleâs gymnastics as you leave. You and Len bond over reigning in with your respective lunatics on your way back to his bedroom where you learn that he adores how you look in his parka.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
â Live Streamingâ Interactive Chatâ Private Showsâ HD Qualityâ Free Actions
Free to watch ⢠No registration required ⢠HD streaming
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: The Mindy Project
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Relationships: Danny Castellano/Mindy Lahiri
Characters: Danny Castellano, Mindy Lahiri
Summary:
AU of My Cool Christian Boyfriend written for brownbear @tmpisdandy her bday request. Contains slight smut NSFW.
previously posted and written for clrmyr for her birthday, enjoy if you havent already! Its late so I will be posting it on ffnet tomorrow