AO3 Gremlin

33 he/him 🏳️‍🌈 (will like/follow as jacka-malfroy for the most part) What this blog originally was: a side blog for Blam (Blaine/Sam - Glee). What this blog is now: a side blog for general fandom (where I like mlm ships). Mostly reblogs but maybe sometimes original ramblings and fic writing. Enjoy!

[a-classic-bj]

Also wow, 100 followers on this blog is neat! Thank you so much to everyone who is enjoying my ramblings about these two idiots 😊

I have been slowly adding my microfic entries over on my AO3, in publishing order here (and mainly when the mood strikes me), if that’s of interest as well

I’ve also got some public bookmarks of Merthur and Drarry fics that have absolutely fucking destroyed me, in mostly good ways haha

[amariram]

[garlic-sauc3]

@frogmerthur i needed to make it a reality

[ucanbanything]

[theedorksinlove]

4x13 // 5x13 you have to go, merlin. you belong at arthur’s side. i’ve seen how much he needs you. how much you need him. you’re like two sides of the same coin.

[incorrect-favourites]

merlin, just got back from dying: Did you miss me while I was gone?

arthur, just spent a week rampaging through the city looking for him: You were gone?

[sourcarmellia]

You basically summed up every episode

[julia-with-luv]

for @merthurmicrofic ︱"exile" ︱2047 words

Merlin's barely recovered from the shock of hearing a polite knock on his very remote little cottage, when he swings the door open to find Arthur Pendragon staring at him. "I've been exiled," Arthur says calmly. "May I come in?"

"What?" Merlin wheezes.

Arthur seems to take that as invitation enough, shouldering past Merlin to enter. Dimly, Merlin notices he's wearing his long traveling coat, his sword at his hip, and a pack slung over his shoulder. "You keep this place just as messy as you did my chambers," Arthur tuts, looking over the humble interior of Merlin's cottage. His nose wrinkles in distaste as he looks at the dirty bowls on the table sat next to tinctures of bitter and poisonous plants, and Merlin's few articles of clothing drying on all the chair-backs. "Honestly, Merlin, what would your mother think?"

He swings his pack around, throws it down on the table, and begins to remove his coat. "I," Merlin breathes. "You. What are you—"

"Please tell me you have some actual meat in this hovel," Arthur adds. "It's a very long ride from Camelot, and I didn't stop to hunt for fear that I wouldn't make it here before nightfall."

He removes his coat, folding it and putting it up on a nail that sticks out from a wall. He turns and looks at Merlin expectantly. "Well?"

"EXILE?!" Merlin shrieks. "What are you— you're not— how did you even—"

His magic is bubbling up inside of him, confused, hurt, and restless. If Merlin hadn't already checked that it is indeed Arthur standing in front of him, he'd have thought the man an imposter. "How did you find me?" he settles on, hands curling into fists in an effort to control his raging emotions.

"I didn't," Arthur says. He leans over, absentmindedly straightening a pile of scrolls Merlin left askew. "I always knew where you went."

"What?"

"Lancelot is a very good tracker," Arthur says, in the tone of voice that indicates it explains everything Merlin needs to know. "Although he got a little too close following that business with the Sluagh. I told him to make sure you were well, not press his face into the windows."

"The wards," Merlin says faintly. He felt them thrum a couple weeks prior, indicating that someone had approached his cottage, although Merlin was unable to discover who.

His magic gave him no such warning for Arthur's arrival, the bastard.

"You've known where I've been ever since you sent me away," Merlin says slowly, trying to make his mind understand. Arthur is still looking at him with the expression he has whenever he thinks Merlin is being particularly slow about something. "And you didn't… mind? Say something?" Scream at me to leave? Show up with a company of Camelot's knights to dole out the law?

Arthur looks cross. "Well, you could have chosen someplace further than a day's ride out from Camelot," he says, and Merlin winces. Arthur then suddenly looks apologetic, and Merlin doesn't know why. "But it's for the best that you didn't. It would have been too hard for me to reach you had I need of you."

"Need of me," Merlin echoes faintly.

Arthur's apologetic expression melts into one of guilt. "I— I made sure I wasn't followed," Arthur says, and it is as he is instinctively flexing his hand that Merlin notices the bruises on his knuckles. "But I should have been more careful. My father, well—" A pained expression crosses his face. "Out of the two options, I was betting that he wouldn't choose exile. The other, I could handle."

Oh. So that's what this is about. Arthur has done something to irritate Uther, and he has turned to Merlin to fix it. He is desperate enough to decide he has need of Merlin again to seek him out. Merlin supposes it shouldn't be surprising that Arthur knows where he is, since it doesn't matter where he lives, as long as it is away from Arthur. Or maybe Arthur just wants the security of knowing Merlin can't run if Arthur decides to renege on his mercy.

If Merlin were his own friend, he would advise himself to have more self-respect. As it stands, at least there is no one else in the cottage to witness how pathetic he is. "What do you need?" Merlin says quietly.

Arthur shoots him a look. "Well, a fire would be nice, for starters. And I wasn't kidding about needing a meal—"

"With Uther," Merlin says exasperatedly. "Surely you must have some idea of how to calm his anger. I could conjure a kelpie and make sure there are witnesses to you heroically slaying it—"

"I've got my father under control," Arthur says. "Sure, it does make things a bit harder having to conduct a base of operations from this…." He looks around, and decides on a word that won't spark Merlin's ire, "abode, but my knights and I have been using coded communication for months now. The council was losing faith in him even before he chose to exile the crown prince. I give it less than a month before he brings Camelot to the brink of crisis, and then I'm sure the guards will be more than happy to allow me to return."

Merlin blinks. Perhaps this really is an imposter that has entered his home wearing Arthur's skin, or maybe he has finally gone utterly mad. He would have thought it would take more than half a year of broken-hearted solitude to get to that point. "Arthur, what are you talking about—"

"Oh, right. I'm sorry, I considered sending Lancelot with a message, but I didn't want him to be caught with anything on him were he found. I couldn't—" His thumb brushes over his lip, and Merlin sees a scab there. "I couldn't risk anything pointing to your location. Hence why I told my father I wouldn't give up that information, even under torture."

"What?!"

"Don't ruffle your petticoat, I'm fine," Arthur says quickly, as if Merlin had not just felt his magic jumping under his skin with all the fury of a dragon guarding its treasure. "I was expecting him to take me up on the offer, and then I wouldn't have to bother you. But it seems my father decided it more appropriate to strip me of my rank and title until I told him where you've been hiding."

Merlin stares at Arthur dumbly. There's no doubt about it, he has gone mad.

At least one of them, anyway.

"Why wouldn't you just tell your father where I am?"

"Very funny. Should I have offered to lead the knights to capture you myself, then?"

Merlin keeps his face blank to conceal the pain. "I suppose."

Arthur gives him a queer look. "You're acting odd. Did your brain wither away from having a forest respite for a few months?"

"Forest respite," Merlin sputters, and he may be pathetic but he still has enough dignity to grow angry. "I don't know what you want, and I'll help you with whatever you need, but might I remind you that you were the one that exiled me!"

Arthur rolls his eyes, and Merlin's hands curl into fists. "You're being dramatic."

It's so casual, so thoughtlessly cruel, that Merlin's magic lashes out before he can stop it. It doesn't hurt Arthur—he never would, never could—but Arthur's mouth falls open as he is shoved into a chair and held in place with invisible hands. For a second, fear flashes across his face, but even that is not enough to quell the anger inside Merlin. Like the first crack of ice across a frozen lake, it only splinters under further pressure.

"I did everything for you," Merlin rasps. "I bled, I killed, I would do it again without hesitation, and I know I lied to you, I know I hurt you, but— but you can't just turn up again like nothing has happened, when you sent me away—"

"—Merlin—"

"It's not fair, it's not fair to take me up one day and cast me away the next, so after this," Merlin's voice trembles, but he juts his chin upwards, he is stronger than this, damn it, "if you no longer wish to see me, then respect your own wishes and leave me be—"

"Merlin!" Arthur is still straining against the weight of the magic holding him in place. But he doesn't look angry, more confused and irritated. And sweaty. "When did I exile you?"

"Oh, I don't know," Merlin snaps. "Maybe this will refresh your recollection: 'Leave here now and don't come back.'"

He knows his voice is a harsh imitation of Arthur's exact words, as they have been ringing in his head since the moment he first heard them. They had barely sunk in, leaving their impression in the grove of his mind—a permanent scar that would never fade—when Arthur barked, "Now," his expression utterly furious. And Merlin had listened.

He breathes out harshly, trying to get a rein on his anger. And Arthur looks—

—well. He doesn't have a word to describe how Arthur looks, exactly.

"Merlin. You did magic in front of my father and his entire court." Arthur is speaking very clearly and slowly. "It was all I could do to buy you enough time so you wouldn't be caught while you fled."

Merlin blinks. He hasn't focused on that part of the situation, truly. He has been more concerned with the hurt in Arthur's eyes, the way his expression turned cold and commanding within a second. All of it, targeted at Merlin. "You were angry."

"I was frightened." Something shudders across Arthur's face before he can conceal its honesty. "I always knew you were a reckless idiot, with how little you cared for doing magic in plain sight, but I knew even I couldn't save you from that display—"

"You." Merlin feels dizzy. He sinks heavily into one of his chairs, and he hears Arthur take a deep breath as his magic releases his hold on him. "You knew. About my magic."

"Of course I knew; I'm not blind," Arthur says, aghast. "I just figured you were pretending otherwise so we wouldn't have to talk about it. Did you really not—" And then his mouth closes. He blinks. Merlin can almost see the coals inside of Arthur's head producing steam. When he speaks again, his voice is small. "I see now. How things might have occurred differently to you."

Part of Merlin wants to cry, part of him wants to scream, part of him wants to laugh hysterically, and he very bravely and wisely does not do any of that. "So you weren't sending me away. Forever, that is."

"No." There is a similar edge of hysteria to Arthur's voice. "Just until I could make it safe for you again. Until I could bring you back to Camelot."

"You kept track of where I was," Merlin says distantly. "You—" He shakes his head quickly. "Arthur, you didn't— please tell me you didn't tell Uther to torture you rather than reveal where I was— I'm not worth it, why did you, why—"

He stops when he finally catches Arthur's eye. Arthur is looking at him in a way Merlin had only caught in glimpses before, like a beam piercing through the clouds, but now the full force of the sun is shining upon him. "How is it obvious to everyone other than you?" Arthur asks.

Merlin's face shatters, and Arthur is out of his chair, making his way over with apologies, and Merlin hears him saying something about how he assumed, he was wrong, he didn't mean to, and that nothing needs to change. He puts his hand on Merlin's shoulder, and Merlin realizes they are both great idiots, and it is probably better to speak with their actions, rather than words. So he does exactly that.

It is only when Arthur has his breeches half undone that he pauses to speak, as he hikes Arthur's tunic up for better access to his chest. "I do love you too, by the way."

"Glad we got that sorted," Arthur replies, and they tumble into bed, basking in the privilege of an undisturbed exile.

[haloud]

for @merthurmicrofic prompt exile, 907 words

Exile – Season 12, Episode 15 – Finale

“Welcome, everyone, to the final episode of season 12 of Exile. And what a season it was: from seeing inevitable champions fall to unlikely heroes rise, this has been a journey none of us will soon forget.”

Merlin bounced his leg, sheathed tighter than he’d prefer in his suit trousers, and tried not to roll his eyes at Kil’s dramatics. Of course the producers sat him right behind that little asshole, Mordred. The fact that he was sitting here at all instead of in a cell somewhere made Merlin wish they were back on that stupid goddamned island, somewhere the cameras weren’t looking.

“Typically, our first questions go to the season’s victor—and what a victory it was.” Kil gestured to Gwen, across the semicircle of contestants from Merlin and looking radiant in a light blue dress, sweetheart neckline, her curly hair loose and free around her sweet face. Not to mention the sparkling engagement ring newly adorning her finger.

Kil went on, “But, given the circumstances, I think it might be best to start with the breaking news. All right with everyone?”

“Please, Kil, go ahead. I understand completely,” said Gwen.

“Thank you. Arthur,” Kil said his name warmly, like everyone didn’t know he was a cold-blooded reptile beneath that television-ready white-toothed grin. “Truly, we’re all so glad to see you here in good health.”

“No one is gladder than I am.”

Arthur’s reply, in that smooth golden voice, media-trained long before Exile like no one else was, broke over Merlin’s ears and sent goosebumps shivering up and down his body. He’d almost forgotten what Arthur was like in front of the camera, the way all the light in the room cozied up to him, the way every eye was unable to look away. It was an easy thing to forget when the same man was texting him in full sentences with salutations and sign-offs, shedding actual tears over football scores, or snoring on Merlin’s couch after a single pint.

But not everyone was as enamored as poor pathetic Merlin. In front of him, Mordred had tensed, fists clenched in his lap. Merlin let a smirk take over his face. Good. Merlin hoped he was absolutely seething, seeing firsthand that he hadn’t actually done Arthur any permanent damage.

“And you’re regaining full use of the leg, is that right?” Kil was saying.

Arthur nodded, but tapped his own left leg with the cane he carried. “There’s still a ways to go with physical therapy, but yes, the doctors have assured me it’s within my grasp.”

“Wonderful. Truly wonderful, that such a tragic accident can still have such a happy ending.”

Merlin twitched, but rapidly schooled his face into stoic disapproval as one of the side cameras moved to focus on him. Accident. Maybe it would be an accident if he kicked Mordred right in the—

Kil carried on, “But, of course, your recovery is only one of the topics our viewers and contestants want to hear from you tonight. Right beside you is another one of our final six contestants: Ms. Morgana Gorlois. Morgana, you found yourself on the wrong side of one of this season’s most shocking twists, when Merlin broke your alliance and voted you off to save Arthur. But since our show finale, you’ve faced an even greater twist in your personal life, isn’t that right?”

Still in full view of the camera, Merlin winced. He hadn’t wanted to betray Morgana, exactly, it was just that she had Gwen and Mordred’s total loyalty and was on the verge of converting Leon too…

And Merlin hadn’t been ready to say goodbye.

Morgana’s mouth twisted down, in a sneer that was too ethereally beautiful to be as rude as she clearly meant it. “I would definitely characterize the latter as a betrayal rather than a twist,” she said coldly.

“Of course, I don’t blame you. And the two of you really had never met before you met on Exile?” Kil asked.

“Our families were acquainted,” Arthur said.

“But neither of us knew how closely,” Morgana finished.

Kil pushed, “But it seems like, despite everything, the two of you are pursuing a connection outside the show, now that you know the truth.”

Arthur and Morgana exchanged a glance. Then it was Arthur who spoke, “My father passed away shortly after Morgana learned he was her biological father and before he had a chance to explain himself. We’ll never know what drove him. But if something good can come of it, well.”

Unexpectedly, his eyes left Kil and sought out Merlin. Those eyes were so brilliantly blue under the filming lights that even from across the stage, Merlin could drown in them.

Arthur continued, “We all competed on a show called Exile, but despite the title, we are stronger for the bonds it forged between us.”

“That’s beautiful, Arthur. Thank you. And it gives me a perfect opportunity to return the spotlight where it belongs. Morgana, why don’t you tell us all about your connection with our cunning, stalwart champion? When is the wedding?”

The interview carried on, but Merlin was way ahead of it. He hadn’t cared about Exile since the day Arthur had left by helicopter instead of vote. Soon enough, the cameras would stop rolling, and Arthur would be his again, outside the media’s eye.

“Loser,” Mordred coughed into his hand.

Oh, yes. When the cameras stopped rolling...

[aemelia]

Merlin— Merlin! Are you watching? Did you see me? Did you? // Training grounds // @merlinbingo

[meloirae]

After 513

[medievaljournalist]

let's all work hard to gain favor with the warlock king today

[z3idan]

merthur fandom are you still out there...

[bakerharrystyles]

@merthurmicrofic prompt: stars Word count: 242 words

“What are we doing out here, Merlin? It’s bloody freezing.”

“Will you just come sit down?” Merlin said, and spread out the picnic blanket on a patch of dewy grass.

Arthur watched as Merlin then took out a thermos and poured two steaming cups of tea. “Here,” he said, holding one out to him.

Arthur took it, grateful for the warmth seeping into his stiff fingers, and set himself down on the rug beside Merlin.

“Look,” Merlin said, after an interval filled only with the sound of them blowing on their tea. He inclined his head to the sky. “No light pollution.”

Arthur looked. The sky was cloudless for a change, the cosmos laid out before them in a winking field of darkness.

“I know everything seems different. Louder. More confusing. It must be—well, I can only imagine how overwhelming it must be. I just wanted to show you that not everything has changed. It’s still the same sky. The same stars.” He shrugged.

Arthur felt the steam from the tea burn his eyes and catch a little in his throat, and stared up at the sky until the feeling had cleared.

Only when it was safe to do so did he drop his gaze from the sky to Merlin, who was looking back at him with a little smile; Arthur thought the stars dim by comparison. “And the same prating idiot,” he said, and pushed a hand into his face.

[theloneshipper]

i commissioned the artist @/GeesVeggieBurgr for this Merlin pic and I am so happy that I did!

If you want something similar (all of his art is fantastic), his comms are currently open!

you can find him both on Instagram & twitter/x!

[tam-not-there]

merlin bbc is basically about that you can survive literally FUCKING everything if you have work crush

[frogmerthur]

stars for @merthurmicrofic

Donika Kelly, From the Catalogue of Cruelty // Marina Tsvetaeva, Bride of Ice // Nicole Sealey, Medical History // Neil deGrasse Tyson, Cosmos: A Spacetime Odyssey // Erika L. Sánchez, Departure

[a-classic-bj]

Brightly burning dots scatter themselves across the deep void above.

They look down upon friend and foe; offer mystical knowledge but they do not reply.

Even when, each night, I ask of them the same thing I ask of that damned lake each day.

Bring him back to me.

Please.

@merthurmicrofic prompt: stars (50 words)