Merlin And Arthur Are One Of The Only Boss/employee Romances I’ll Take And It’s Honestly Because

I just love cottagecore Merlin. Like I love thinking, dreaming, drawing, writing about Merlin living in a cute asf cottage that looks like a mushroom/or hobbit home and him gardening whilst wearing a pretty dress and fairies flying around him, sprinkling flower petals on him.

Of course he lives with cats whom hes named after the people he knew like King Arfurr, Mewlin(gotta have one named after himself lol) Sir Meows-a-lot, Sir Lion, Sir Purrsival, Sir Felyan, Sir Grrlwaine, Sir meowdred, Meowgana, Gwenpurr, Gwaipuss, Freynya, etc. I just think it's cute lol

he’s very special to me

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."

Keep rubbing it in, thank you very much.

Here si Sunday of Fanart! This time I wanted to draw a fanart of Avatar the Last Airbender, one of my favorite series from my childhood ^^ (and more fanarts will come ^^)

Remember that I have open commission, for more info click the link in my bio ^^

I have this sorta stupid headcanon about when Arthur tries to promote merlin to like court sorcerer or something, and Merlin has a moment of panic and refuses the promotion and is all "I don't want power Arthur,I've already told you I'm proud to serve you till the day I die" or sommate and Arthur is all "after all you've done for Camelot for me for our kingdom I can't allow you to lurk in the shadows anymore, besides this way you won't have to sneak away to do your magic what not and all that and you can actually take the time to work on it, just let me promote you" and Merlin is still refusing till finally Arthur gives him The Look™ and just asks finally "merlin, tell me, what's really going on?"

And Merlin just very sheepishly admits that he doesn't like the idea of someone else doing all the things he does now.

He doesn't like that someone else is going to Stoke the fire at night, because that's always when he find Arthur up way too late and asks what's wrong and they talk about the stress of running the kingdom and how he secretly misses Morgana and how worried he is about the Knight who hasnt returned from watch.

And he doesn't want someone else to be riding by arthur’s side or to help him dress in the morning or write his speeches, doesn’t want them there in all the simple moments that always bonded them

supple-MENTAL am I right-

I love how fast Jon spiraled between seasons

The first (recorded) chemist of the world was a woman??? making perfume???

you’ll never see us again

finally made art work for my current fic 🗯 now I have an image to add for every update 💫

November

Once again, I feel the November coming.

I feel it’s cold grasp,

slowly trying to crawl under my skin,

spreading through my body like a sly disease.

At first, I did not even notice the changes.

The way my grin became more of a light smile,

The way my reflection always looks tired,

The way I crave the poets words,

just to feel someone else’s melancholy.

But than it hit me.

My body feels empty,

My soul is numb and lost,

My mind yearns for hibernation,

just to find rest and peace.

November hurts.

November leaves you feeling more alone than ever.

November is the month of the poets and the Sorrowed.

November is where I belong.