UnfinishedDuets
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“What did you do now Merlin?”
“Got cursed.”
Merlin slumped into the room and fell onto the bench of the table across from Gaius, laying his head dramatically on a book of something or other Arthur didn’t bother to look too closely at.
“Cursed.” Gaius echoed, unimpressed.
“Cursed.” Merlin sighed back, like some kind of weepy maiden.
“He can’t lie,” Arthur supplied, walking further into the room and standing behind Merlin, pushing his head off the book roughly. Merlin squawked and glared at him before shaking his head and turning back to Gaius.
"It gets worse."
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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.
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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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“So let me get this straight,” Arthur said, folding his fingers together as the man in front him awkwardly shifted. “You are under the impression if you win the favor of my servant that you will then win my favor?” he asked and the nobleman shifted again.
“Well, sire,” he said “That is the common consensus among… the chatter.”
“The chatter,” Arthur repeated and his mind flashed to all the kindness Merlin had received from other nobles. Dear God.
Or
Merlin has all of Camelot (and neighboring kingdoms) wrapped around his finger and Arthur is beginning to resign himself to the fact his servant somehow has more power than he does.
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Arthur could see his father glaring down - face red and eyes narrowed as he looked at Merlin with clear distaste.
"Once this over, sorcerer...I’ll burn you."
"You’ve already tried that," Merlin’s voice answered and Arthur had to bite his fist to keep from making any noise. “You need to accept you can’t kill me… Hand me that blanket, please.”
“I’m sure there must be some method… Beheading?”
“No, we tried that.”
“Hanging?”
“I just sort of... Swung there, remember?”
There was another pause.
“I should have made you keep that dragon below the castle so I could feed you to it.”
“Kilgharrah? He won’t eat me, but if you want to torture me than making me listen to his nonsense for an hour might do it.” Merlin said and there was a soft sigh from the other end of the room. “I’m glad you agreed to help me though. Usually I have to do the grunt work of saving Arthur myself.”
“I can’t wait to kill you.”
Or
Uther finds out about Merlin’s magic, but can’t seem to kill him. Merlin is just trying to protect Arthur. They become a begrudgingly effective duo. Arthur doesn't understand why they think he isn't noticing this.
Series
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Bookmarked by UnfinishedDuets
11 Jun 2026
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Bookmarker's Notes
This was really funny actually
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"Just—take it, man,” Dean forces out. Spots dance behind his eyelids.
“‘Take it?’” Cas asks.
Dean white-knuckles Cas’s warm hands, using the wall to press bruises into his own skin. "What you need,” he says. "Just take what you need.”
(dean doesn't want this. he doesn't.)
Bookmarked by UnfinishedDuets
10 Jun 2026
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Bookmarker's Notes
"Forgive me, Dean,” Cas says, breath hot against Dean’s ear. "You’re so beautiful. I can’t resist you.”
Briefly, Dean wonders what his dad would think if he saw this, Dean half-naked and being kissed within an inch of his life by another man, bucking up against a strong hand, struggling against a grip so tight it raised him from perdition. He concludes with relish that even John Winchester wouldn’t be able to find fault in him in this situation, caged in as he is by one of the strongest beings on earth. The only thing Dad could admonish him for is that he was caught without a weapon—he’s gotten soft in his domesticity. A hunter should always have a weapon within reach, even in his own kitchen.