// Rivals Max Verstappen & Charles Leclerc //
Currently 4k Words
When a storm traps two idiots who has unresolved tension in a hotel room together with no escape, Do they try to escape or do they finally cave in?
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Max followed his gaze and his mouth twitched like he might be on the verge of saying something unhelpful.
Charles beat him to it.
“If you say anything, I will leave.”
Max’s expression went flat. “Then don’t make me say anything.”
Charles huffed despite himself and turned toward the small kitchen area, more to create distance than to find anything useful.
The storm kept raging.
He could hear Max moving behind him, the rustle of a damp jacket being stripped off, the soft thunk of something set down on the table. Every sound felt too loud in the enclosed space.
Every silence felt worse.
At last Charles spoke without turning around. “This is absurd."
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Or: Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc gets trapped in together after a pole fight and a continuous fight.
Tags-
#There was only one bed #Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen are Rivals #Forced Proximity #There Was Only One Bed #One Shot #Emotional Hurt/Comfort #Tension #Unresolved Romantic Tension #Charles Leclerc Has Feelings #Protective Max Verstappen #Rivals to Lovers #Charles Leclerc and Max Verstappen Being Idiots #charles leclerc max verstappen
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Unsure if I'll have a good spot to put this in the next chapter but I'm quite happy with this draft scene so sharing it here in case it gets cut...
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Merlin's quill was flimsier than the ones he used. Merlin must keep some spare ones around. Arthur began searching the desk drawers and found them as messy as Merlin's desk. No doubt Merlin had his own unique organisation system, based on how he liked to arrange Arthur's belongings. He rustled through the papers and found a collection of battered quills buried beneath them.
He was about to close the drawer when one of the many notes caught his eye. One with his name amongst the words. There was a piece of string looped around it and when he reached for it discovered it was tied to a small wooden box, and there was more writing on it. He'd read enough of the speeches Merlin drafted for him to recognise his penmanship. He took it from the drawer and as he read the note his pulse quickened.
Gaius,
If I don't make it home, could you give this to Arthur for me?
I'm sure he'll want it back, and please tell him thank you, I'll forever be grateful for it.
-Merlin
P.S.
In case you haven't found it yet, there's a letter for you in the book you gave me.
When he pulled the paper away Arthur recognised the little square box at once. With shaking hands, he opened it and took out the sigil bearing his mother's family crest, that he had given to Merlin so many months ago. He ran his fingers over the familiar engraved bird. It's edges had become smoothed over the years because of how often he used to do this. He tucked the letter away in his pocket, placed the sigil back in the box with care, and returned it to the drawer. He'd leave it there for Merlin to find when he woke up.
❄️ An illustration for my most recent SoRiku story, If Only There Was Someone Out There Who Loved You ❄️
Summary: Having a heart that can connect so deeply with others isn't always a good thing. When Elsa's magic struck Anna's heart Sora felt a shard of ice in his own, and now there are white streaks in his hair and snowflakes appearing on his hands.
His friends are determined to find a way to help him, but if true love is the only thing that can fix this then he knows there's no saving him. He isn't even sure he knows what love is, and he doubts there's anyone who feels it for him.
For the ice effects I used these Ice Brushes
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Almost ready to post chapter 1 of a new sickfic and after rewriting a bunch of it I decided to throw out the original intro, it just doesn't seem to fit the flow anymore.
I was really happy with it though so sharing it here anyway. Maybe I'll turn it into something in the future ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Merlin learned early on that time off when you're sick was not part of the job of a prince's manservant. The first time he was ill after arriving in Camelot, aside from the poisoning incident, he had hoped at first it was just a bad cold. But, considering the number of flu patients Gauis had seen the week prior, he wasn't surprised when it started getting worse. Arthur had snorted derisively when Merlin floated the idea that someone else take care of his duties for the afternoon so he could have some rest.
"Don't be such a girl's blouse Merlin. I'm not giving you the day off just because you've got the sniffles."
Merlin had been affronted, and wondered for a moment if it was worth snapping back and asking if Arthur would still feel that way when Merlin ended up being sick over the prince's bedroom floor. But then he had seen the openly unimpressed look on Arthur's face and stopped himself. Arthur may be an ass, and his insults were most often meant in jest, but some of his comments stung. Maybe it was just the fever and his generaly miserable state, but Merlin had felt embarrassed. Maybe even a little ashamed.
Back in Ealdor, people only worked through illness when it was absolutely necessary. A bad cold or a fever could quickly become deadly in a small rural town, so when someone was sick others would always pick up the slack for them. But maybe the standards were different here. In a city like Camelot, with knowledgeable physicians like Gaius around, maybe people didn't need to be quite so careful about these things. Maybe by Camelot's standards, this really was just a small dose of the sniffles, and that look on Arthur's face was justified. The thought made him feel small. Like a spoiled child expecting to be coddled.
He didn't bring it up again, and was rather pleased with himself when he made it to the end of his week-long ailment without vomiting in Arthur's boots, no matter how much Merlin felt he deserved it. He would have been the one who had to clean it up anyway.
Those first two years in Camelot he suffered through half a dozen colds and a handful of other strange illnesses. As a physician's apprentice, he came into contact with far more than his fair share of sickness. Thankfully the near-constant exposure eventually rendered him, like Gaius, immune to most things.
Something he wasn't able to develop an immunity to, however, were the injuries that came with his third job; protector of the royal prat himself. He kept those to himself as well. Arthur would surely have questions if he ever found out about those. A few bumps and grazes were easy to excuse; Arthur loved pointing out his clumsiness. Stab wounds and Serket stings were a little harder to explain.
Even if he could think of decent excuses for the injuries, Merlin didn't see much point in asking Arthur for a break when Gaius told him he needed to rest and heal. He doubted Arthur would grant the request. Even more than that though, he didn't want to see Arthur's reaction. Without knowing the extent of the injuries the prince would likely give him that disapproving look again, the one that made it clear he was unimpressed and about to tell Merlin just how pathetic he was. Merlin would rather avoid that look.
Everything he did was for Arthur, and it was disheartning enough that Arthur thought he was an idiot most of the time. Arthur calling him not only hopeless, but weak as well, would hurt far more than the injuries. There was a difference between him whining about being saddle sore and Arthur teasing him for it, and Arthur actually considering him weak. Arthur's opinion of him mattered far more to him than it probably should.
Between the need for secrecy, Arthur's expectations, and the constant reminders from Gaius and Kilgharrah that Arthur's life was his responsibility, Merlin found himself keeping most of his problems to himself. It was something he was already accustomed to doing before he arrived in Camelot. As the prince's friend, manservant, and protector, this seemed to be a valuable skill. He decided was one worth honing.
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I was going to wait a few more days before posting but got too excited, so here's a new Destiny Trio fic, and this one's for you @inkmoose 🥰 I hope you like it ❤️
Summary:
A crash landing has left Sora, Kairi, and Riku separated on Olympus mountain and Riku isn't answering his phone. Kairi and Sora must desperately search for him, fighting both Heartless and their own internal battles, but will they find him in time?
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Most people would be surprised to learn that Kairi didn't actually like fighting all that much. Anyone who'd watched her train would be forgiven for thinking the opposite was true. Despite how hard she worked, and her eagerness to accompany her friends on missions, in an ideal world she never would have wanted to be a Keyblade wielder.
It wasn't enjoyment or a desire to test her strength that drove her every day when she picked up her Keyblade and ran herself into the ground training. She wanted to be strong. She wanted it more than anything, because what if the next time someone faded from this world because of her they didn't come back?
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If you'd like to support me in anyway I'm on ko-fi ❤️
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Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 8 of A Servant of No Master is up!
The race is on to get a mortally wounded Merlin back to Camelot before it's too late.
--- Excerpt ---
This must be the final stages he thought to himself. He wasn't sure if his brain was doing him a kindness or just being cruel, showing him hallucinations of what he wanted more than anything right now. Of Arthur holding on to him like he didn't want to ever let him go.
Because it didn't make sense for this to be real. The Arthur he knew, who had held a sword to his chest, sent him away, looked at him with such a look of hurt and disgust... that Arthur wouldn't look at him like this now would he? He wouldn't speak to him like this. Like he still cared for him. Like he didn't think he was a monster.
But he was. And when Merlin asked him to stay with him he said
"I'm here Merlin, I've got you."
He was hugging him. Crying. That didn't make sense. Arthur never cried. It didn't make sense but Merlin hoped his fading mind would let him keep this moment. If he had to die at least he could imagine dying in a world where Arthur didn't hate him.
