[merlin] the best ones around {merlin/morgana} english
more from the AU drabble!spam fest @ infide_manentia. Probably, besides this (merlin&morgana cosplaying as themselves which I'm not posting here), my very first totalAU in this fandom ♥
Fandom: Merlin
Title: the best ones around
Characters: Morgana, Merlin
Rating: PG15
Warnings: AU. possible OoC? IDK
Word Count: 1211
Summary: For the prompt MAFIA!AU. And inspired by this "And then what what, does he teach her how to shoot a gun, standing behind her with his hands on her hands". Originally posted here
Morgana sees him on the yard one day; gun in his hands, long distance targets in front of him. He shots them one by one with a precision that marvels her. She is curious; she has heard wonders about her half-brother new guy in training. They say he is better than Arthur never was (while Arthur prefers knifes and all sort of blades, Merlin -the new guy- masters every single fire weapon that reaches his hands, or so she has heard.)
She wants… she is not sure of what, but it definitely involves getting closer. Guns and boys, especially skinny, dark haired boys, are, in her book, a great combination. And god, she is curious. She owns this place anyway (literally and metaphorically). She leans her body on a post, and watches him. The way he stands, the way he moves his hand as he charges the gun. The way he leans. The way he shoots. She sees the target fall (actually, she hears it fall, as her eyes are fixed on him) and starts to understand why everybody talks wonders about this man.
“Are you planning on staying all day there, madam?” he asks, swirling his gun back into it’s place in his belt. She jumps startled, but the man turns around and smiles at her. “Morgana, right?”
“The one and only.” She moves forward, but none of them show signs of shaking hands. His are locked in his pockets, and his eyes are a mix of weary and awe.
“Can I help you with something, madam?” he asks politely, and makes a sweet nod.
“Don’t do that for starters.” She almost pleads. Sometimes, she enjoys it; it shows the power she has in this family run by men, in this business run by men, sometimes, it just annoys the hell out of her. “And it’s Morgana,”
“I don’t think I should, madam,” he says, but at least, he doesn’t nod, and for now it’s enough.
“You are very good,” she says, and she can’t stop the amazement she feels to reach her voice. Her eyes are fixed on the cans he had been practising on. There’s a few of them still standing, waiting. She looks at him, there’s a mix of pride and blush on his cheek that makes he look extremely cute and innocent. But, oh, she knows better. “They say you are the best around.”
“Do they?” There; pride coming out to his voice, without really overpowering the soft light in his bright blue eyes. “I have been doing it for a long time, madam”
“So have the rest of the guys here,” she smiles, and gets even closer. “I’m pretty sure Arthur is not happy someone is better than him at something.” He laughs, freely laughs.
“He is not, madam,” there’s a joke in his voice that he doesn’t say. Something along the lines of “the bastard can’t handled a gun even if it was stuck into his own hand” and Morgana laughs softly, because she can hear it in the silence -and she agrees. “What about you, madam?”
She smiles, getting closer. Too close, and she feels as he takes a step blackguards. Protocol, what’s it’s supposed to be and what’s not. She is too far away according to the rules of the family. (Not according to her). She is way too curious to let him go.
“Guns? Me? Do you think that’s my place, Merlin?” He smiles at the mention of his name, and leans a bit forward, her confidence opening a space for his own.
“Why not?” She laughs and thinks that this guy is definitely special.
She takes a step forward, her hand brushing his leg as she goes for his gun. He doesn’t move or say a word, and she understands it as permission to take it. She does so slowly, her eyes fixed on his. She senses the smile and the blush that spread over the man features and enjoys the moment a bit too much. But she finally moves away, feeling the blush on her own cheeks starting to creep and walks to the place were he was practising.
It takes her seconds to be ready and aiming, and she can feel his eyes on her body (just as she had hers on his before). She knows the distance is too much for her practice, but she is good anyway, and she won’t let him think otherwise. She feels the adrenaline and the rush before pulling the trigger, and when she does it, she smiles in content. The can does not fall, but it moves, brushed by the bullet.
“That’s not bad,” he smiles, and he is way too much closer than she expected him to be. Too focused on the shooting, her senses hadn’t followed his movement.
“And you can do better?” she asks, barely moving, afraid to find his eyes way to close if she faces him.
“Of course,” he whispers, still too close, and she refrains the need to shift under his presence.
“Now you are just showing off.”
He laughs; it’s a soft muffled laugh that echoes in her skin. She smiles, even though she tries to maintain her more dignifying expression.
“You could to,” he finally says after he calms down. His arms surround her (it’s alright, I won’t do anything, he whispers) and his hands clap around hers on the gun. She can feel every part of him on her, and his breathing caressing her neck. She is not sure how much she is focusing on what they are doing, but she follows his instructions as well as she can. They work on unison, his hands caressing hers as he moves them along the gun, and when they shoot, it’s directly into the heart of their target.
She feels like shaking or jumping -or kissing him. She contents to shake her head and wait until he lets her go.
“See, madam? It’s not that complicated,” he says, parting from her, as if he was talking about writing their names on a piece of paper. It feels cold to be left alone, and she turns to face him.
“I could use a good teacher.” She smiles, and hands him the weapon. He smiles sheepishly and takes the gun away.
“I’m sure you can find a good one around.” She looks at him intently until he finally gives in. “I don’t’ think I would be a good idea, madam.” She laughs.
“Merlin, next time, let me tell you what it’s and what it’s not a good idea.” She walks a step forward, and gets her lips until there are brushing his right ear. “See you tomorrow, professor.”
She leaves, moving swiftly. She feels his eyes following, from the edge of her hair to the walk of his feet. She smiles. He is the better around, she has seen them all shoot, she has heard them all talk, and she has gone close to every single one of them. Neither was at her league. Her curiosity won’t be satisfied by one single day touch. Before she gets inside, she looks one more time at him. From far, he makes a little nod, and though it’s impossible for her to hear him, she can feel him laugh.
Fandom: Merlin
Title: the best ones around
Characters: Morgana, Merlin
Rating: PG15
Warnings: AU. possible OoC? IDK
Word Count: 1211
Summary: For the prompt MAFIA!AU. And inspired by this "And then what what, does he teach her how to shoot a gun, standing behind her with his hands on her hands". Originally posted here
Morgana sees him on the yard one day; gun in his hands, long distance targets in front of him. He shots them one by one with a precision that marvels her. She is curious; she has heard wonders about her half-brother new guy in training. They say he is better than Arthur never was (while Arthur prefers knifes and all sort of blades, Merlin -the new guy- masters every single fire weapon that reaches his hands, or so she has heard.)
She wants… she is not sure of what, but it definitely involves getting closer. Guns and boys, especially skinny, dark haired boys, are, in her book, a great combination. And god, she is curious. She owns this place anyway (literally and metaphorically). She leans her body on a post, and watches him. The way he stands, the way he moves his hand as he charges the gun. The way he leans. The way he shoots. She sees the target fall (actually, she hears it fall, as her eyes are fixed on him) and starts to understand why everybody talks wonders about this man.
“Are you planning on staying all day there, madam?” he asks, swirling his gun back into it’s place in his belt. She jumps startled, but the man turns around and smiles at her. “Morgana, right?”
“The one and only.” She moves forward, but none of them show signs of shaking hands. His are locked in his pockets, and his eyes are a mix of weary and awe.
“Can I help you with something, madam?” he asks politely, and makes a sweet nod.
“Don’t do that for starters.” She almost pleads. Sometimes, she enjoys it; it shows the power she has in this family run by men, in this business run by men, sometimes, it just annoys the hell out of her. “And it’s Morgana,”
“I don’t think I should, madam,” he says, but at least, he doesn’t nod, and for now it’s enough.
“You are very good,” she says, and she can’t stop the amazement she feels to reach her voice. Her eyes are fixed on the cans he had been practising on. There’s a few of them still standing, waiting. She looks at him, there’s a mix of pride and blush on his cheek that makes he look extremely cute and innocent. But, oh, she knows better. “They say you are the best around.”
“Do they?” There; pride coming out to his voice, without really overpowering the soft light in his bright blue eyes. “I have been doing it for a long time, madam”
“So have the rest of the guys here,” she smiles, and gets even closer. “I’m pretty sure Arthur is not happy someone is better than him at something.” He laughs, freely laughs.
“He is not, madam,” there’s a joke in his voice that he doesn’t say. Something along the lines of “the bastard can’t handled a gun even if it was stuck into his own hand” and Morgana laughs softly, because she can hear it in the silence -and she agrees. “What about you, madam?”
She smiles, getting closer. Too close, and she feels as he takes a step blackguards. Protocol, what’s it’s supposed to be and what’s not. She is too far away according to the rules of the family. (Not according to her). She is way too curious to let him go.
“Guns? Me? Do you think that’s my place, Merlin?” He smiles at the mention of his name, and leans a bit forward, her confidence opening a space for his own.
“Why not?” She laughs and thinks that this guy is definitely special.
She takes a step forward, her hand brushing his leg as she goes for his gun. He doesn’t move or say a word, and she understands it as permission to take it. She does so slowly, her eyes fixed on his. She senses the smile and the blush that spread over the man features and enjoys the moment a bit too much. But she finally moves away, feeling the blush on her own cheeks starting to creep and walks to the place were he was practising.
It takes her seconds to be ready and aiming, and she can feel his eyes on her body (just as she had hers on his before). She knows the distance is too much for her practice, but she is good anyway, and she won’t let him think otherwise. She feels the adrenaline and the rush before pulling the trigger, and when she does it, she smiles in content. The can does not fall, but it moves, brushed by the bullet.
“That’s not bad,” he smiles, and he is way too much closer than she expected him to be. Too focused on the shooting, her senses hadn’t followed his movement.
“And you can do better?” she asks, barely moving, afraid to find his eyes way to close if she faces him.
“Of course,” he whispers, still too close, and she refrains the need to shift under his presence.
“Now you are just showing off.”
He laughs; it’s a soft muffled laugh that echoes in her skin. She smiles, even though she tries to maintain her more dignifying expression.
“You could to,” he finally says after he calms down. His arms surround her (it’s alright, I won’t do anything, he whispers) and his hands clap around hers on the gun. She can feel every part of him on her, and his breathing caressing her neck. She is not sure how much she is focusing on what they are doing, but she follows his instructions as well as she can. They work on unison, his hands caressing hers as he moves them along the gun, and when they shoot, it’s directly into the heart of their target.
She feels like shaking or jumping -or kissing him. She contents to shake her head and wait until he lets her go.
“See, madam? It’s not that complicated,” he says, parting from her, as if he was talking about writing their names on a piece of paper. It feels cold to be left alone, and she turns to face him.
“I could use a good teacher.” She smiles, and hands him the weapon. He smiles sheepishly and takes the gun away.
“I’m sure you can find a good one around.” She looks at him intently until he finally gives in. “I don’t’ think I would be a good idea, madam.” She laughs.
“Merlin, next time, let me tell you what it’s and what it’s not a good idea.” She walks a step forward, and gets her lips until there are brushing his right ear. “See you tomorrow, professor.”
She leaves, moving swiftly. She feels his eyes following, from the edge of her hair to the walk of his feet. She smiles. He is the better around, she has seen them all shoot, she has heard them all talk, and she has gone close to every single one of them. Neither was at her league. Her curiosity won’t be satisfied by one single day touch. Before she gets inside, she looks one more time at him. From far, he makes a little nod, and though it’s impossible for her to hear him, she can feel him laugh.