Viktor And Mel Madarda Met For The First Time When The The Brilliant Prodigy First Started Out As Heimerdinger’s

link’s here

@ali-kaaaay @riotroast @littlemeangreen

zaundad’s au where vander is taken by the enforcers after turning himself in for the explosion.

something about miscommunication and saving violet from turning herself in.

after the fact, vander’s territory is crumbling and benzo is holding water in his hands trying to pick up the pieces. silco hears and quickly catches on that maybe vander had a point in what he was doing. because at least his betrayal of cahooting with grayson was buying them time. and now zaun is dividing itself into shards of shattered pottery. and every thing is going to shit because there’s no one keeping all the ducks in a row.

and silco doesn’t really forgive vander, but after getting a tip about how he’s fighting for his life in stillwater, it makes him get a little crazy and protective. so much so that he actually finds himself considering forgiving the bastard. which ensues a ton of loathing and journal worthy emotions as he plans to save his stupid fucking soulmate that he literally hates with every bone in his body.

but he has violet knocking at his door just when he’s about to make the decision to either leave the hound to the wolves, or take vander’s place himself. and she’s so much wiser than her years, and she’s so blunt and courageous, that it reminds him of the way vander would protect them in the mines and during protests. using his brute strength and tuff demeanor to steer away danger. how he would shield them and barter their way through problems.

here was this young girl trying to act ten times her size and fill the same hole the silco himself had been trying so hard to fill. she was so angry that vander had chosen her over everything, and THAT made silco stop for a while. it made him almost jealous.

because vander has chosen everything over him. vander had chosen to act on his violence and guilt and he’d chosen felicia and piltover and the kids over silco.

so, anyway, just silco being pulled in two opposite directions as he tries to save vander from deteriorating in prison for protecting his daughter.

The concept of paranormal Meljayvik. Viktor who has an obsession with ghosts/the afterlife (and is unknowingly susceptible to spirits.) Jayce who is intrigued by the possibility of an afterlife but terrified of any attempts to contact spirits. Then Mel, the healthy skeptic who indulges Viktor’s interests because she likes him and his company. One night Viktor talks them all into using a ouija board, and it seems to be not working at first, until spirits start to talk through Viktor rather than the board. Mel and Jayce leap to shut it down and close the portal and the coast is clear. Until Viktor starts acting strangely. Withdrawing. Growing paler by the day. Lashing out and fainting at odd times. Mel and Jayce have to put aside fear and disbelief to help wrangle Viktor from the grasp of ghosts.

The handful of times that Viktor was allowed over the Piltover-Zaun boarder was limited to the amount of meetings Silco was allowed to infringe on. And, because Viktor flashed the sad eyes that made Vander’s resolve fall faster than the rain did every morning, they stayed for two days every trip. Enough time for Viktor to recuperate, and for Silco to overanalyze the words of Piltover’s leaders.

Viktor had a little desire to sit and watch grown ups debate. He had experienced enough of that for a lifetime. So, when Silco left him alone in their Piltie funded hotel apartment, he would slip out and walk around the nearby streets. With his journal under one arm, his crutch under the other, and a pencil clenched between his teeth.

Unfortunately, he was quickly interrupted each time.

“Vik!” The loud, obnoxious voice of the boy with the big eyes.

Viktor paused, fingers just barely touching the wood and lead between his crooked teeth. He turned his head just enough to catch the short bundle of dark blues and browns barreling down the paved sidewalk. Right towards him.

Jayce had knocked them both into the street on Viktor’s third trip into Piltover, and had nearly killed them both in a carriage accident. And, after a plethora of apologies Viktor hadn’t taken seriously, the boy had taken one nosey glance at Viktor’s neat scrawl open in a puddle, and had decidedly begun stalking Viktor from then on.

It was almost impressive; how quickly Jayce seemed to sense his presence in the city.

“Vik!” his name was called out once more, even closer than before. And, refocusing, Viktor realized that Jayce was already linking their arms.

The top of his head barely reached Viktor’s shoulder. Short dark hair had grown into a plouf that fell into light hazel eyes. He was fuller than Viktor was, healthy and fed heartily. But, even with the hunch and the cane, he towered over his unwanted companion. Jayce seemed to have no problem with it, happily dragging Viktor in a different direction.

He dug his heals in, digging his cane even further down on the frayed boot around Jayce’s foot. He chose to ignore the yelp received.

“What did we talk about last time?”

Jayce perked up like a flower under light, “We talked about science and magic, and you agreed to be my partner.”

Viktor squinted, “And….”

Jayce didn’t take the hint, talking gibberish in a language he couldn’t quite comprehend. It was pretty. Even if he found Jayce’s undeterred excitement as mildly irritating as he did interesting. So, rather than put in more useless effort into making his garden gnome of a friend put some value into personal space, he relented with a heavy sigh. He wondered if Jayce knew what he was doing, because he only seemed to grin wider.

Viktor stopped them again, thin arm wrapping around one of the steel bars on a nearby fence. He hugged it tighter when Jayce pouted and attempted to pull him along like a mule would a plow. Viktor sneered mischievously.

He used the element of surprise to drag Jayce back the way they’d come, “Come, Jayce. If you behave, perhaps I will order your tea for you.” He didn’t miss the way babyish cheeks tinted red. “Then you will not spill it all over the ground.”

Petulantly, Jayce stomped along at Viktor’s side, “It’s not by fault the food stands are so tall!”

Viktor hid his laugh behind the pencil between his teeth.

*

“Viktor!” Powder nearly knocked him over on her way through the door. She was out of breath, and he almost panicked that something bad hand happens, if it weren’t for the terribly malevolent smirk she possessed. She composed herself just barely, clearing her throat. “You have a visitor on the way.”

He fought the urge to hit her shin with his cane as his beating heart began to quicken up again.

“Who?”

She shrugged, feigning a comic amount of disinterest in her meander over to the stools around Vander’s bar. Nevertheless, he immediately caught sight of who, at the same moment the door opened again and nearly knocked him in the side of the head.

“Vik!” Muscular arms had locked themselves around his middle. Very muscular arms. Very, very large hands that took up most of the slender expanse of Viktor’s torso.

Jayce was broad. His eyes were a little darker than he remember, but his smile was still big and charming with the little gap between his teeth. But, most of all, he was so goddamn tall. Viktor had to look up at him, and he began to count in his mind just how long it had been since they’d last seen each other. Unsurprisingly, Jayce seemed to still be capable of reading his mind.

He stepped back enough to look Viktor in the eye, but not enough to fully drag his hands off of Viktor’s body.

“I know you said to never follow you past the boarder,” he laughed nervously under Viktor’s scrutiny. “But, it’s been three years, Vik! I missed you too much, and I thought you might be less mad if I had help.” At Viktor’s quirked eyebrow, Jayce overly energized gaze flickered briefly towards his blue-haired sister. He forcefully ignored the feeling of eyes on the back of his head.

“I sent letters,” he lamely replied. Guilt filled in the gaps between the frightening amount of relief that flooded his senses at the presence of his favorite person. Between working for Silco and Vander and tutoring four teenagers, time had been swept out from under him. Jayce laughed, not buying the words anymore than Viktor himself did.

“As if that would satiate me,” Jayce laughed, pressing their cheeks together. Viktor sighed, relenting to the touch that also seemed to have not decreased with age.

He made a defiant guffaw in response, “You always were very demanding.”

Jayce laughed, and it was both a sound that caused Viktor’s heart to flutter, and made his cheeks burn. It startled him intensely. Especially when warms hands tightened around him.

“I might surprise you yet.”

The gasp he let out was a telltale sign that he understood. He gawked up at Jayce’s face, star struck at the way Jayce bent over him just slightly to speak privately. Although, it was still beyond improper of them to be so inexplicably close in broad daylight.

He ran his thumb under the gentle shadows underneath Jayce’s eye, admiring the softness of his skin.

“Would you like a drink?”

Jayce’s cheeks turned violet, “My treat.”

thank you @stellophile <3

asks are open!

does anyone else have the line - “the people of the underground deserve to breath” - permanently stuck in their head forever?

…cause i do and it’s eating me away

my mind comes up with a universe where vi stands behind caitlyn as she goes through her mother’s projects. and she has such an intense reaction to her trauma being replayed back to her.

like she gets terrified. she has to step back and force herself to see history through piltover’s eyes. how disgusting and painful it would feel to relive a half-realistic portrayal of the way her home fell apart because of poison and demons in masks. and then how those same things caused an argument in order to allow her friends and family to survive in the fissures they already had the curse of living in.

and the memory of her breathless mother doesn’t leave her head when caitlyn looks back.

zaundad’s au where vander is taken by the enforcers after turning himself in for the explosion.

something about miscommunication and saving violet from turning herself in.

after the fact, vander’s territory is crumbling and benzo is holding water in his hands trying to pick up the pieces. silco hears and quickly catches on that maybe vander had a point in what he was doing. because at least his betrayal of cahooting with grayson was buying them time. and now zaun is dividing itself into shards of shattered pottery. and every thing is going to shit because there’s no one keeping all the ducks in a row.

and silco doesn’t really forgive vander, but after getting a tip about how he’s fighting for his life in stillwater, it makes him get a little crazy and protective. so much so that he actually finds himself considering forgiving the bastard. which ensues a ton of loathing and journal worthy emotions as he plans to save his stupid fucking soulmate that he literally hates with every bone in his body.

but he has violet knocking at his door just when he’s about to make the decision to either leave the hound to the wolves, or take vander’s place himself. and she’s so much wiser than her years, and she’s so blunt and courageous, that it reminds him of the way vander would protect them in the mines and during protests. using his brute strength and tuff demeanor to steer away danger. how he would shield them and barter their way through problems.

here was this young girl trying to act ten times her size and fill the same hole the silco himself had been trying so hard to fill. she was so angry that vander had chosen her over everything, and THAT made silco stop for a while. it made him almost jealous.

because vander has chosen everything over him. vander had chosen to act on his violence and guilt and he’d chosen felicia and piltover and the kids over silco.

so, anyway, just silco being pulled in two opposite directions as he tries to save vander from deteriorating in prison for protecting his daughter.

CHAPTER FIVE - link here

@ali-kaaaay @riotroast @littlemeangreen

zaundad’s au where vander is taken by the enforcers after turning himself in for the explosion.

something about miscommunication and saving violet from turning herself in.

after the fact, vander’s territory is crumbling and benzo is holding water in his hands trying to pick up the pieces. silco hears and quickly catches on that maybe vander had a point in what he was doing. because at least his betrayal of cahooting with grayson was buying them time. and now zaun is dividing itself into shards of shattered pottery. and every thing is going to shit because there’s no one keeping all the ducks in a row.

and silco doesn’t really forgive vander, but after getting a tip about how he’s fighting for his life in stillwater, it makes him get a little crazy and protective. so much so that he actually finds himself considering forgiving the bastard. which ensues a ton of loathing and journal worthy emotions as he plans to save his stupid fucking soulmate that he literally hates with every bone in his body.

but he has violet knocking at his door just when he’s about to make the decision to either leave the hound to the wolves, or take vander’s place himself. and she’s so much wiser than her years, and she’s so blunt and courageous, that it reminds him of the way vander would protect them in the mines and during protests. using his brute strength and tuff demeanor to steer away danger. how he would shield them and barter their way through problems.

here was this young girl trying to act ten times her size and fill the same hole the silco himself had been trying so hard to fill. she was so angry that vander had chosen her over everything, and THAT made silco stop for a while. it made him almost jealous.

because vander has chosen everything over him. vander had chosen to act on his violence and guilt and he’d chosen felicia and piltover and the kids over silco.

so, anyway, just silco being pulled in two opposite directions as he tries to save vander from deteriorating in prison for protecting his daughter.

part 2 of my moses!viktor au - part 1 here

Ideas for a title: "Bitter Water Made Sweet" or "She Named Him Viktor" Which are just a couple of my favorite lines from Exodus (I have a lot though, so these probably won't be the only contenders) Thoughts and opinions are appreciated. I think I’ve officially leaned into meljayvik (as seen quite obviously in this segment), and I’m quite content about it.

Mel’s hands were soft and warm. The caverns of her palms lined up with his own, and her nails dug into the back of his hand every time his right knee faltered and caused him to sway away from her.

They watched each other through the corners of their eyes, catching themselves at similar times and fastening their gazes onto the lanterns and murals along the passing streets instead. Viktor had pretended to find a particular window very interesting, not noticing the woman behind it sensually waving her crooked fingers at him until Mel was pulling him along a little more hurriedly. He slowed them down when she had gotten a little too overzealous, and his cane had begun to drag behind more than it assisted his mobility. She made a slight huff out of her nose, but politely and gracefully stepped to his own slow pace.

He eyed her again, admiring the way her hair curved around her back, the shiny tendrils like a veil as the strands billowed behind her by the breeze. Her eyes shun green again under the warm glow of the lanterns, and her lips were red instead of the black they had seemed by the stream. He felt has jaw slacken as he admired the color that had returned to her aura.

“It is impolite to ogle, Viktor.”

“I am not ogling,” he ripped his line of sight away, instead pointing a glare at half-erased hopscotch markings in the path coming up beside them. What was left of the yellow chalk was almost orange, saturated from the runoff water dripping from the gutters above it. She did not respond to his petty reply, so he changed the subject. "Where are we going again?" She hadn't told him in the first place, but he felt the urge to pretend that he had a say in their exhibition. He caught the corners of her plump lips twitch up before she bore a more neutral expression. He squinted as his eyes lingered on the changes.

"We had not thought it wise to spring this onto you all at once." She did not give him any assurance before pulling him down a side street.

He dug the heel of his good leg into the cobbled road, causing them to halt. "In case you did not notice, I seem to have missed the memo on bringing my minecart for you to push me around in!" His sarcasm filled the air between them as he heaved a deep breath and she finally looked at him with the clarity of a dirty coin run through fresh water. He glared at her wide, dolesome eyes, sighing when her grip loosened and her fingers linked with his own in a more intimate, comforting manner.

"I'm sorry, Viktor," she drew closer to him, her hip inches from brushing against his own. Her shawl was extremely soft when his wrist rubbed against it. It was warm, even with the strong wind blowing against them. While being so close, he realized that she was unnaturally warm, like a personified flame. Small, but fervent enough to make you extract your hand immediately in fear of being scorched.

She paced herself better as she led him along in the direction of a lonesome bar.

It was one of the only dwellings that still had its lights on so late at night. Late enough for the mine and street vendor workers to get off of a shift and still pretend that they had a life. It was bigger than The Last Drop, but it was not better. On the outside, the grout between crooked and graffitied bricks was cracked like a double-paned window, there were shattered lanterns on either side of the door, and the sign was held at a crooked angle by a single chain on the right side. The name was indistinguishable from the grime covering it. Viktor considered falling down like a sack of potatoes into the mud and excrement from animals pulling carriages, if only to prevent their future murders. Less by the inhabitants of such a building, and more so by the indescribable alcohol sold.

Inside was not much better. While Vander kept his bar swept and lit, this one was littered with coal dust and heavy shadows. Each tiny table had a dying, flickering candle. While it could have set a romantic mood, the muscled women in the corner throwing punches, the bartender sending a empty bottle flying at a singing man attempting to climb the counter, and the five or six knives that laid on tables of card players, caused all image of such to die.

Mel did not flinch when more than one pair of eyes landed on them, but she did step in front of him as she continued to the darkest corner. Her grip tightened, nearly strangling his hand's circulation. She tossed warning glances with her chin up, and Viktor watched her with amazement as she made the atmosphere return to normal. No one said a word to them.

"How did you do that?" he asked as they sat down. He very briefly felt embarrassed when she made it a point to help him sit comfortably in the booth, not letting go of him until he was surely planted.

"Do what?" she asked, beguile. As she flowed into the seat opposite of him, her smirk returned. She sat straight as an arrow, but he could tell that it was out of habit and not in a tense manner. She seemed relaxed, never more on edge as she had been when daring the other patrons to interrupt her. Even Vander had to do more than look at his clientage to get them to knock it off. And he'd witnessed Vander punch someone through a window on more than one occasion. Which made him wonder….

"Can you move things with your..." he searched for a word to describe what he had caught her doing just barely an hour beforehand. He made vague swishing motions with his fingers, attempting to mimic what she had done with the golden sparks. She giggled into her closed fingers, eyes flickering to something on Viktor's left. He smiled marginally, following her gaze. He had expected to find a funny painting on the wall, or possibly a crude remark etched into the fake leather of the seat. Instead, he was flailing in an attempt to escape as he met a new set of eyes.

His scream was cut abruptly and effectively off by a salt sweaty hand over his mouth. He made a muffled sound of affronted anger, twisting roughly to at least get a better look at the stranger. The man had dark hair, slightly tousled from what had once been a neat slick back. His skin was beautifully healthy tan, but he had silvery scars along his hands and arms as a result of some type of physical labor. He didn't have a beard, but he was not clean shaven either. Finally, Viktor seethed at ale-colored eyes, wrenching his jaw out of the offenders hold and biting down on the flesh of his thenar eminence.

"Fuck!" The heat around the back of his neck and cheeks was gone, a string of saliva breaking once the man's hand was clutched to his broad chest. Viktor grunted and wiped away the moisture across his lips, all while keeping an unrelenting glower on him. The man laughed after a moment, his cheeks blowing up like a balloon and his eyebrows lifting in shock. His head flung backwards as his boisterous rumbles carried across the room. Viktor slowly turned to gawk at Mel, who was almost as amused as the other.

Viktor felt a furious, revengeful urge to hit them both in the head with his cane. But when Mel lifted a brow, he kept his fingers back from reaching for the stick at his side.

A hand in his peripheral vision made him begrudgingly look over. And his annoyance abruptly dropped, his mouth parting just slightly when the man tilted his head in a much sweeter acknowledgement. He hummed at Viktor's lack of requite, none of his pleasantry dropping as he took Viktor's free hand in his own. He had large hands, which was what he took note of immediately. It wrapped his own like a gift, a span of callouses digging into delicate bones.

"I'm Jayce."

He blinked, "Vik-"

"-Viktor." The way Jayce said his name felt like how the sun warmed your skin on a breezy day. He said nothing back. "I know who you are." Jayce didn't let his hand go. He noticed that their hands had only held each other's in a frozen grasp, and the thought made Viktor look back at Mel.

She smiled at him, the motion capacious and delightful. "Now that you two have been acquainted, let us discuss why we brought you here, Viktor."

Viktor looked between them, at Jayce's glee and Mel's pride at a job so far well done. Jayce's hand broke from the professional grasp they had adhered to and instead tucked his fingers under Viktor's palm. He regarded Mel with the same simmering excitement as he had Viktor.

"Go on," he nodded to her, attempting to ignore the broadening smile on the other man's face. It really was distracting. He found he didn't hate it as much as he normally would have. Or, the way he should have.

"I want to prevent war," Mel's sound dropped significantly. Viktor had to crane his neck closer to hear her clearly, brows pinched in concentration. "In order to do that, I have compiled a series of warnings to frighten Piltover into letting Zaun go. They will refuse, but we will punish them until they are burdened with guilt too heavy to carry further." She leaned in closer, elbows folded neatly on the greasy table. "It will take time, but it is my goal to manipulate the city in preventing further deaths."

Viktor bit back his wave of inquiries, sieving through them to find an easier one to portray his interest. He barely noticed the way his silence made concern flicker across his companions faces, or how Jayce's hand constricted around his own.

"How do I play into this? I do not hold any significant power."

"Of course you do," Mel held her chin up with one hand as she stared prettily at him. She was unrelenting, that was for certain, and was full of enough spirit for an army. He couldn't help but believe her.

Jayce nudged him, "Well," he whispered into Viktor's ear, "Are you in?"

He thought of Vander and his daughters, of Benzo and Ekko, of his entire block that protected him from being dragged back to Piltover for exile. In the back of his mind, he recalled memories of Cassandra and Caitlyn doing the same. He shuddered at the memory of the heartbreak they had observed him with before he had fled.

"Are you aware of my connections to the council?" They nodded, respectfully solemn. He sighed, the hairs in his face flying up like a broken parcel.

Jacy scooted himself even closer, "If we pull this off, you'll be able to see them again. In the sunlight, without the fear of getting sent away."

Mel reached a hand out, fixing his crazed whisps of hair that had fallen back into his eyes, "We will protect you, Viktor. But you have to trust us as much as we do you. And if that is too much to ask, you have to ask yourself if you can at least give us the chance to gain it ourselves." He felt his head grow heavier as he caught himself leaning into her touch. He straightened, weighing the options over again.

He could let it go. He could leave like he had never met these people before in his life. He could watch as Zaun fought for their own freedom, just as history naturally went. He knew he would have to watch his friends die, and that that would be inevitable in the case.

He had never delt with loss well. When Cassandra had told him the story of his real parents, how they had sent him down the Pilt in a last-ditch effort of saving his life, he had hidden away and ignored his own health for so long, that they had kept him in private, consistent company for weeks afterwards. Just the loss of people he had never met weighed heavy enough to cause a spiraling case of grief. He feared what a war would cause him to do. And, even as the lingering light of his family up in Piltover turned grey, he had his answer in mind.

"Can we get out of here?"

part 3

has anyone written a merlin au where arthur finds out balinor is merlin’s father, and that’s how he learns of merlin’s magic?

and i mean only arthur knows. merlin and balinor don’t have a clue.

like balinor starts to get through to arthur, telling him how he can still fix the mistakes that have been made. to do so he shares that he had to leave the love of his life in order to protect her and their son. he had to shield them from the dangers that the anti-magic propaganda had created for him. on the run from hunters who either felt entitled to use his power, or set him ablaze in cold blood.

he describes a town much like the one merlin brought him to once. the woman he speaks of falling in love with someone so similar to merlin’s mother that he sees it.

he notices how merlin and balinor laugh the same, ponder with furrowed brows the same, and how they prefer to eat with their hands instead of utensils.

he connects the dots with a flurry of nightmares. he realizes that merlin has magic in his blood and he’s terrified of what might happen if the truth gets out.

and when balinor dies, he yells in horror. not just because an innocent man was dead, but because it doomed merlin unfathomably. the one man he wouldn’t be able to hold back his own tears for.

and he couldn’t stand to break merlin’s heart with the news. so, when he eventually learns of merlin’s magic, he understands a little more what it takes to make someone lie for love.

cause if they have, let me know 🙏

edit: it seems i may write it myself lol

“Camelot’s Waiting”

(merthur dabble)

“The King is here!" A small boy ran past Merlin's tent, leaves sticking out of his curly head of hair. His face was wide with excitement, but the sounding stampede of horse hooves made him revert back to the confines of his personal encampment.

He knew why they were there. There had been a series of Barghest attacks making their way towards Camelot, and Arthur had never been one to wait like a sitting duck. They must have been desperate to leave the kingdom in such a rush. Unfortunately for them all, it was a waste of time. Merlin had already dealt with the beast. As if he’d truly abandon all he cared for.

He heard the telltale neighing of Llamrei, ever as hotheaded as her owner. She was just as determined to keep moving on a quest as Arthur was. He could remember fondly now, attempting to quiet her insistent complaints about resting. Always nipping and shoving into his shoulder for attention and trying to buck the other knights if they dared stand next to her.

He considered changing appearances. It wouldn't have been the first time. When travelers came looking for Emrys, he had grown accustomed to altering his appearance one way or another. He faltered just outside of the stitched bear hide, staring blankly at the sheen of sunlight that lit up its fibers.

"It's urgent, we need to see him!" Arthur yelled at someone. Merlin nearly burst through the flap that instant, anticipation flooding what sense he had left. He focused on growing his hair out, greying it as light as he could in such a short amount of time, and also adding a few wrinkles. He knew it was the lack of sleep catching up to him that caused his belatedness.

"If he wants to see you, then he'll find you. Do I not look like I have better things to do, My Lord?"

He refastened his white robes, sinching the red and barley yellow twine that a Druid girl had weaved for him. He dared not to worry outrageously about the significance of the colors. And he was unsure whether to feel grateful or not when he was immediately caught behind the gathering accumulating in the center of the camp.

A Druid woman stood with a wooden basket on her hip, berries nearly overflowing over the lip of it. While it must have been heavy, she did not strain. She met Arthur's gaze with an impressive amount of authority for someone without a sword or shield. She didn’t even have shoes on.

"Gloriana," Merlin called to her, a smirk growing despite himself. She leaned around Arthur's big boot, nodding when he gestured for her to continue on with her business. Unfortunately, he hadn't fully prepared himself for when Arthur would look at him. His breath caught in his throat, the gasp drawing the attention of the closest knight.

Lancelot peered down at him, squinting as if the sun had begun to shine from within the ground underneath him. Elyan kept a distance, and Merlin knew that he was more focused on danger outside the premises, than he was of the Druids.

Arthur pulled a prudish face, "You're Emrys?"

Merlin scowled, "You're King Arthur?" At the man's affronted scoff, he huffed and turned to walk down the path leading out of the Druid’s camp. "I suppose you've come for my help!” He laughed a mighty 'HA' as he began to make his way in the direction of the lake he'd found a short travel away. He would do just about anything to get the knights away from the magical people, even by being alone with them. “Fortunate for you, the beast has already been slain, you are free to go."

He'd left Camelot before Arthur had been able to confront him for being a magic user. He hasn’t known what would toe the line of execution, and exile was even worse. He left before Arthur had had to make the difficult choice. And now, as much as he pained to consider his closest friend a threat, he cared much more about the children still learning how to control the pebbles they floated in the air.

He'd barely made it to the outskirts of the camp, when large, pincher teeth clamped down on the back of his linen robe. He was pulled back, an all too familiar whinny making him flail his arms around wildly.

"Llamrei!" he scolded, "How many times do I have to tell y-" His eyes darted to Arthur's, finding it impossible to play off the shock on both of their faces. In his fit of annoyance, his gruff and scratched voice had reverted back to his normal one. He brought a hand up to cover his eyes, turning and pretending as if he hadn't ruined everything.

"Oh my..." He distinctly heard Lancelot murmur. "Merl-"

"Quiet!" Arthur shouted, interrupting Lancelot's quiet realization. Elyan gawked, sharing an astonished glance with his friend. The rest of the camp was eerily silent, and Merlin could not bring himself to see if it was because they were alone or not. He had a sneaking suspicion that the Druid's were hidden in places where they could eavesdrop. A thump in the grass let him know that Arthur had dismounted. Llamrei was finally quiet, Merlin cursed her in his head, trying to drown out the steps of the king drawing nearer.

"I am not M-" A hand on his cheek stopped him abruptly, causing his own to fall like the ball of a flail. He drew in a sharp breath when Arthur caught his eye, like waterfalls in the high noon sun. It took Merlin a moment to realize that they were as wet as his own.

"Merlin." Arthur all but gasped, drawing him into a bone splintering embrace. His arms were stuck at odd angles while he was stuck to the king's body, but he knocked his head affectionately against Arthur's, allowing a slight smile for the occasion. He'd relish the affection while it lasted.

"I've missed you." His voice escaped him, albeit muffled from where his mouth pressed against a red cape. He heard the other two knights lead the horses away, leaving them alone without a word.

"Why did you leave?" Arthur sounded incredibly exhausted, and Merlin's observation proved correct when the he slumped slightly, weighing the leaner man down. They collapsed to their knees. The dew of the grass quickly soaking through their clothes.

"I was scared." Arthur hooked his chin over Merlin's boney shoulder.

"That isn't like you, Merls."

"I was scared you'd kill me."

"What?" Arthur drew himself back, looking over Merlin's anxious and crestfallen face, "I would never."

Merlin used his wrists to wipe back the tears flowing down his cheeks, "You don't have to lie to me Arthur, I’m sorry for lying to you. I deserve your anger, and I am prepared to live with the consequences of my actions. Even if I can never come back with you.”

"Oh, shut it, you idiot!" Arthur scoffed. And Merlin startled at the sudden anger laced in his tone. But it was not hatred that fed the outburst, it was just annoyance. Merlin would recognize that look on Arthur any day of the week. Merlin gaped at him, watching in disbelief as Arthur stood and crossed his arms defiantly. "If anything, I should be apologizing to you, apparently! If I truly had you believing that I would hurt you because of something so mindless, then I guess I haven't been as good of a King as you've always surveyed." His gaze softened as Merlin's brows knitted together in disagreement. Arthur kept going, "I would have never allowed them to take you from me, Merlin. Not in a thousand years."

Merlin's bottom lip wobbled, his emotions bubbling over and spilling out like an overflowing cauldron of water. He pressed his palm against his lips, holding back the distress he felt as his walls began to blow up around him. Arthur enveloped him in another embrace, a gloved hand on the back of his head as he pulled Merlin's face down to conceal his vulnerability.

"I thought-" He broke off with a sigh when his throat clenched up in disapproval.

"Do you really think that lying to me would make me love you any less?"

At Merlin's lack of response, Arthur tugged his gloved off, tossing them into the grass. He cupped Merlin's jaw on either side and pulled him closer, so they had mere inches between their faces. He felt the warm span of Arthur's breath across his nose and cheeks. Thumbs ran across his cheekbones, Arthur's eyes looked over his face like a man would a vault of gold. Merlin had definitely caught Gwaine eyeing a piece of pie the same way before. He shivered as Arthur bumped their foreheads together.

"I can't stop doing magic, Arthur. It's who I am." He looked at the king through his eyelashes, waiting for a sign of disappointment. Arthur grinned, his eyes staying blissfully closed as their noses brushed.

"All that matters is that I found you."

Merlin hummed, relaxing his tense hands at Arthur's sides and contentedly pressing back into all of the king's caresses.

Then he added, "And Gwaine is going to owe Percival so much money."

"You really are an absolute clotpole, you dolt." Arthur's breathy laugh hit Merlin's face once more, making him smirk through his mild irritation.

"You can't speak to your king that way, idiot."

"Who do you think you are?" Merlin opened his eyes, leering playfully at the blond. "The king?" Arthur hummed, brushing Merlin's dark hair out of the way. Distantly, he wondered when his identity spell had fallen.

"Just Arthur."

"Just Arthur?" Merlin quirked a brow at him.

"I'll always be your Arthur."

"Even if that Arthur is an unrelenting clotpole?"

Arthur rolled his eyes, "I'm trying to make this a moment, Merlin."

Merlin recentered the clasp of Arthur's cape, fingers lingering on the outline of a toned chest underneath. He tilted his head and stepped out of the other man's hold.

"That wouldn't be my Arthur, my Arthur is a grumpy king that hates romance.” He was stopped from distancing himself further by a hand grasping the twine around his own waist. Arthur grinned as he admired the colors.

“I’m not entirely against the idea.”

Merlin scoffed defectively at the man's much too pleased smirk, "Get a hold of yourself, sire!"

Arthur only laughed, pulling him in once again, disregarding the lackluster complaints.

CHAPTER TWO- link’s here

@ali-kaaaay @riotroast @littlemeangreen

zaundad’s au where vander is taken by the enforcers after turning himself in for the explosion.

something about miscommunication and saving violet from turning herself in.

after the fact, vander’s territory is crumbling and benzo is holding water in his hands trying to pick up the pieces. silco hears and quickly catches on that maybe vander had a point in what he was doing. because at least his betrayal of cahooting with grayson was buying them time. and now zaun is dividing itself into shards of shattered pottery. and every thing is going to shit because there’s no one keeping all the ducks in a row.

and silco doesn’t really forgive vander, but after getting a tip about how he’s fighting for his life in stillwater, it makes him get a little crazy and protective. so much so that he actually finds himself considering forgiving the bastard. which ensues a ton of loathing and journal worthy emotions as he plans to save his stupid fucking soulmate that he literally hates with every bone in his body.

but he has violet knocking at his door just when he’s about to make the decision to either leave the hound to the wolves, or take vander’s place himself. and she’s so much wiser than her years, and she’s so blunt and courageous, that it reminds him of the way vander would protect them in the mines and during protests. using his brute strength and tuff demeanor to steer away danger. how he would shield them and barter their way through problems.

here was this young girl trying to act ten times her size and fill the same hole the silco himself had been trying so hard to fill. she was so angry that vander had chosen her over everything, and THAT made silco stop for a while. it made him almost jealous.

because vander has chosen everything over him. vander had chosen to act on his violence and guilt and he’d chosen felicia and piltover and the kids over silco.

so, anyway, just silco being pulled in two opposite directions as he tries to save vander from deteriorating in prison for protecting his daughter.