#but Merlin always made an effort to be truthful and challenge Arthur and SEE him
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Never forget that Arthur found it fucking hilarious when Merlin disrespected him in the beginning 'you can't address me like that' said with a smile like the sun. I bet he thought fucking finally someone is being real with me.
#merthur#merlin#and tbh from that moment he had no idea what to do with Merlin xD#his affection for him and all that#because Arthur had never truly had anyone like Merlin in his life#even in the books it said how servants were jjust part of the background#but Merlin always made an effort to be truthful and challenge Arthur and SEE him#and their begrudging friendship that developed so beautifully into somehting unameable and so real#was absolute magic (pun intended) to behold
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Hello❤️ could you please write some Harry Hart x reader where reader has a deadly illness or something like that and doesn't know how to tell him please❤️
You don't have to though! Don't feel pressured❤️
Title: "Fight for me"
Summary: You fight for him.
Pairing: Harry Hart × Reader
Warnings: Angst, mention of death.
Author's Notes: Thank you kindly for nudging me back into Harry Hart's world! Gotta admit, I've been feeling a bit nostalgic about our old pal Harry. Those first fanfics with him? Whew, they were like the training wheels for my writing journey! But hey, even though I've come a long way, there's always room for improvement, am I right? 📝🚀
As the days passed, you found yourself grappling with the weight of the secret you carried, the knowledge of your impending demise lurking in the shadows of your mind. Deep down, you knew you had to tell Harry eventually. He was your friend, your confidant, someone you trusted with your life. But the fear of how he would react, of the pain it would cause him, held you back.
You and Harry had been through so much together, bonded by the trials and tribulations of life as Kingsman agents. You had faced danger head-on, stared death in the face more times than you could count, but this was different. This was a battle you couldn't fight with fists or gadgets. This was a battle against time, against an enemy you couldn't see or touch.
It had all started on a mission, just like any other. Some evil idiot with grandiose plans of spreading a new type of deadly virus in New York through the water supply. You and Harry were sent in to eliminate the threat, to neutralize the danger before it could spread. And you had succeeded, taking down the man responsible for the virus with precision and skill.
But what you hadn't anticipated was the insidious nature of the virus itself, its ability to infect even the most cautious of agents. Hours after the mission had ended, after the adrenaline had faded and the dust had settled, you received the devastating news. You had contracted the virus, a death sentence lurking in your bloodstream, waiting to claim you.
In the weeks that followed, you tried to carry on as if nothing had changed, as if the specter of death looming over you was nothing more than a distant shadow. You continued to report for duty, to fulfill your obligations as a Kingsman agent, all the while hiding the truth from those closest to you.
Only a select few knew of your condition, the Kingsman doctors who had been tirelessly working to find a cure, along with Arthur and Merlin, your closest allies within the organization. They had sworn to secrecy, to keep your condition hidden from the rest of the world, to spare you the scrutiny and pity that would surely follow if the truth were to come to light.
But despite their best efforts, you couldn't shake the feeling of isolation that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, the fear of facing your fate alone. And so, you continued to push yourself, to throw yourself into your work with a fervor born out of desperation.
Each day brought new challenges, new obstacles to overcome, but you refused to let it break you. You were a Kingsman, damn it, and you would face death with the same courage and determination that had defined you as an agent.
As the days turned into weeks, the black lines on your body began to appear, starting on your stomach and seeming to grow more pronounced with each passing day. Concerned, you made your way to the medical area of Kingsman to find out about it, showing the lines on your belly to Doctor Sarah, one of the organization's trusted physicians.
Dr. Sarah wasted no time assessing the situation, immediately ordering blood tests to better analyze the mysterious phenomenon. As she prepared to draw blood for the tests, she asked if you were experiencing any symptoms. With a sigh, you nodded, feeling a heaviness settle in your chest as you began to roll up the sleeve of your Kingsman suit, revealing your forearm.
"I've been feeling more tired than usual," you admitted, wincing slightly as Doctor Sarah tied a band around your arm to prepare for the needle. "And it seems like everything I put in my stomach is being repelled. I can hardly eat, and even walking has become painful."
Before Doctor Sarah could respond, there was a knock on the door, and Harry entered the room, concern etched on his features. Doctor Sarah scolded him gently for not waiting for someone, but allowed him to come in before she resumed her task of drawing blood.
"Kay, what are you doing here again?" Harry questioned, his voice filled with genuine concern as he focused his attention on you. "This is the third time this week you've been to the medical area."
You ignored his inquiry, your gaze fixed on Doctor Sarah as she finished taking your blood. With a smile, you thanked her and straightened your shirt, grabbing your suit jacket from one of the nearby chairs.
Turning to face Harry, you feigned ignorance. "I don't know what you're talking about," you replied, your tone carefully neutral as you made your way towards the door.
But Harry wasn't fooled, his brow furrowing in frustration as he followed closely behind you. "Kay, don't do this," he pleaded, his voice soft but firm. "You're avoiding me, and I don't know why. Please, talk to me."
Feeling Harry's presence at your side, you hesitated for just a moment, the weight of your secret bearing down on you like a leaden cloak. But with a deep breath, you continued on your way, your steps quickening as you made your escape from the medical area.
"I'm not avoiding you, Galahad," you replied, your voice strained with the effort of maintaining your composure. "I've just been... busy the last few days."
But Harry wasn't about to let you off the hook that easily, his determination evident in the way he matched your pace, his eyes boring into yours with unwavering intensity.
"Kay, I know you're hiding something from me," he insisted, his voice soft but firm. "And I'm not going to let it go until you tell me what's going on."
You stopped in your tracks, the weight of Harry's words hitting you like a ton of bricks. With a heavy sigh, you turned to face him, steeling yourself for the confession you were about to make.
"You're right, Harry," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you met his gaze. "I've been hiding something from you for a while now, and... it's time to tell you."
Harry's brow furrowed in confusion, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were about to reveal. But he certainly didn't expect what came next.
"I like you, Harry," you blurted out, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them. "I'm... in love with you."
The confession hung heavy in the air between you, the weight of it pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. It wasn't a complete lie - you had harbored feelings for Harry for some time now, feelings you had kept buried deep within your heart for fear of rejection.
But now, faced with the prospect of your own mortality, you couldn't bear to keep the truth hidden any longer. And so, you had made a deliberate choice to reveal your feelings to Harry, knowing that it would provide a plausible explanation for your recent behavior and, more importantly, that it would drive him away.
Harry's eyes widened in shock at your confession, his features frozen in disbelief as he processed your words. For a moment, the silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions and unvoiced fears.
But then, with a sigh, Harry reached out and took your hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring. "Kay," he murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of sadness and regret, "I had no idea... I'm sorry."
You shook your head, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Don't be," you replied, your voice tinged with resignation. "I knew you would never feel the same way, Harry. You're a Kingsman through and through, and I... I'm just a friend."
With those words, you pulled away from Harry's touch, your heart heavy with the weight of unrequited love. Turning on your heel, you walked away, leaving Harry standing alone in the hallway, his gaze following your retreating figure with a mixture of regret and longing.
But deep down, you knew it was for the best. You couldn't bear to burden Harry with the knowledge of your impending demise, couldn't bear to watch him suffer as you wasted away before his eyes. And so, you had made a deliberate choice to push him away, to spare him the pain of losing someone he cared about.
As you disappeared around the corner, tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. You were a Kingsman, damn it, and you would face your fate with the same courage and determination that had defined you as an agent.
As the weeks passed and your condition worsened, you found yourself confined to your bed at home, the pain in your stomach becoming unbearable. You lay there, feeling weak and helpless, unable to get up or eat anything of substance. The black lines that had started on your stomach now snaked their way up toward your neck, a grim reminder of the disease ravaging your body.
You had been in bed for two weeks now, having left the Kingsman hospital wing after receiving the devastating news that there may not be a cure for you. Unable to bear the pitying looks from those around you, you had made the difficult decision to come home, to spend your final days in the comfort of your own bed.
Merlin called you practically every day, his concern palpable even through the phone. But you couldn't bring yourself to answer, having told him that you would only reach out when you felt that your time was near, so he could take care of your final arrangements.
Alone and in pain, you lay in bed, the weight of your impending death pressing down on you like a leaden cloak. The days stretched on, blending into one another as you drifted in and out of consciousness, the pain in your stomach a constant reminder of your mortality.
But amidst the pain and despair, there were moments of fleeting clarity, moments when you allowed yourself to reflect on the life you had lived. Memories of missions and adventures with Harry and Merlin filled your mind, bringing a bittersweet smile to your lips as you reminisced about the good times you had shared.
But as the days wore on and your strength waned, those moments became few and far between, replaced by a sense of resignation and acceptance. You knew that your time was running out, that soon you would be nothing more than a memory, a footnote in the history of Kingsman.
And so, you lay there, isolated and alone, the black lines creeping ever closer to your neck as you waited for the inevitable end. But even in your darkest moments, you refused to give up hope, clinging to the belief that somehow, someway, you would find peace in the end.
Today was another day like the others. You curled up in bed, the pain in your stomach a constant companion as you ignored the persistent ringing of the doorbell at your house. Whoever it was could leave; you just wanted to be left alone to wallow in your misery.
As the doorbell finally stopped ringing, you let out a sigh of relief, grateful for the temporary reprieve. But just as you began to drift back into the numbing embrace of sleep, there was a knock on your balcony door, startling you out of your reverie.
You sat up, a mixture of irritation and confusion clouding your thoughts as you made your way to the balcony. What the hell was Harry doing there? You opened the door, the cool breeze of the evening washing over you as you faced him, a frown marring your features.
"What are you doing here, Galahad?" you questioned, your voice tinged with annoyance as you met his gaze.
Harry waved a paper in front of your face, his expression a mixture of sadness and anger as he demanded to know why you kept it from him. Confused, you glanced down at the paper, your heart sinking as you realized what it was.
It was an exam paper, a paper from one of your recent medical exams, detailing your morbid condition in stark black and white. You felt a lump form in your throat as you tried to find the words to explain yourself, to make Harry understand why you had kept it from him for so long.
But before you could speak, Harry's voice cut through the silence like a knife, his words laced with pain and betrayal. "Kay, why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, his brown eyes searching yours for any sign of an answer.
You opened your mouth to respond, but the words caught in your throat, choked off by the weight of your guilt and shame. You had never seen Harry look so sad, so angry, and it tore at your heartstrings to know that you were the cause of his pain.
"I... I didn't want to burden you, Harry," you finally managed to choke out, your voice thick with anguish as you met his gaze. "I thought it would be easier if you didn't know, if I just... faded away quietly."
But Harry wasn't having any of it, his frustration evident in the way he shook his head, his eyes blazing with emotion. "You idiot," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper as he reached out and pulled you into a tight embrace. "Do you really think I would have let you face this alone? That I wouldn't have been there for you every step of the way?"
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you buried your face in Harry's chest, his words washing over you like a balm to your wounded soul. In that moment, you realized just how much you had underestimated his love and devotion, how much you had underestimated the strength of your bond as friends and comrades.
"I'm sorry, Harry," you whispered, your voice muffled against his chest as you clung to him like a lifeline. "I'm so sorry for keeping this from you, for shutting you out when I needed you the most."
Harry ignores your excuses and pulls away to look at you, his determination evident in the firm set of his jaw and the steely resolve in his eyes. He promises you that he will find a cure, that he will search the whole world if he has to, to ensure your well-being. But you shake your head, your gaze filled with resignation as you admit the harsh truth.
"There is no cure, Harry," you whisper, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you meet his gaze. "The only person who could even produce a cure is the creator of the virus himself. And... I killed him."
Harry's expression softens with understanding, his brow furrowing in concern as he processes your words. For a moment, he is at a loss for words, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air between you.
But before he can respond, you feel a sharp pain rip through your abdomen, doubling you over in agony. Harry's eyes widen in alarm as he rushes to your side, his hands gentle as he helps you to lie down on the bed.
You try to protest, to reassure him that you'll be fine on your own, but Harry scolds you, his voice filled with frustration and concern. "Stop pushing me away, Kay," he insists, his eyes blazing with emotion as he meets your gaze. "Just stop. You don't have to go through this alone."
You swallow hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to speak as you meet Harry's gaze. "I'm sorry, Harry," you whisper, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "I didn't want to burden you with this. I thought... it would be easier if you didn't know."
But Harry shakes his head, his expression softening as he reaches out to brush a stray tear from your cheek. "How dare you even lie to me like that?" he murmurs, his voice laced with pain and betrayal. "Is that why you said you were in love with me? To keep me away?"
You don't have the strength to protest, to explain yourself, so you let him believe that his confession was nothing more than a lie. Harry continues, his voice filled with regret as he admits his own shortcomings.
"I don't want to lose you, Kay," Harry murmurs, his voice filled with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine. "It hurt when you walked away from me, avoided me for so long. And when you lied and said you loved me... a part of me liked it, knowing this. I don't understand why, Kay. I've never known how to deal with feelings, and so I moved even further away from you, allowed it, thinking you would overcome your feelings for me."
You meet Harry's gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggle to find the right words to respond. "Harry, I..." you begin, but before you can finish, he cuts you off with a gentle touch, his lips brushing against your forehead in a tender caress.
"Don't," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "Don't say anything, Kay. Just let me be here for you, please."
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you nod, unable to find the strength to argue with him. In that moment, all you can do is surrender to the overwhelming tide of emotions that threatens to consume you, to let Harry's presence wash over you like a soothing balm.
And then, without warning, Harry's lips find yours in a soft, tentative kiss, sending shockwaves of electricity coursing through your veins. It's not the first time you've kissed him - on missions, it's common to pretend to be a couple to maintain cover - but this kiss feels different, somehow. It's filled with a depth of feeling that you've never experienced before, a silent declaration of Harry's love and devotion that transcends words.
For a moment, you're lost in the sweetness of the kiss, the warmth of Harry's embrace enveloping you like a protective cocoon. But as the kiss deepens, passion igniting between you with an intensity that takes your breath away, you can't help but feel a pang of guilt gnawing at the edges of your consciousness.
Harry loves you, he's confessed as much, but you can't bring yourself to believe it. It's just pity talking, you tell yourself, his concern for you clouding his judgment. But as Harry pulls away, his eyes blazing with an emotion that leaves you breathless, you can't deny the truth any longer.
"Kay," he whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion as he cups your face in his hands, his gaze searching yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I love you, more than anything in this world. Please, let me be here for you. Let me show you how much you mean to me."
You shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks as you try to push him away. "No, Harry," you choke out, your voice barely above a whisper. "You don't love me. It's just pity, I know it is. You're just feeling sorry for me."
But Harry's expression softens, his eyes filling with a tenderness that steals your breath away. "Kay, look at me," he murmurs, his voice gentle but firm. "I love you, with every fiber of my being. And I will do whatever it takes to prove it to you, to show you that you are not alone."
As he protests, his voice filled with desperation and determination, you feel a surge of conflicting emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. On one hand, you want to believe him, to trust in his unwavering resolve to find a cure and save you from the clutches of death. But on the other hand, you can't shake the overwhelming sense of despair that threatens to consume you, the knowledge of your impending demise looming over you like a dark cloud.
But Harry refuses to let you wallow in self-pity, his hands gentle but firm as he holds your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Kay, look at me," he insists, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You can't give up, not now. I refuse to let you surrender to this disease without a fight."
You try to turn away, to avoid his penetrating gaze, but Harry's grip on your face tightens, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that leaves you breathless. "Even if it's too late," you protest, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to find the words to explain yourself. "Even if there's no hope left... I can't keep fighting, Harry. I'm tired, so tired."
But Harry shakes his head, his expression filled with a steely resolve that takes your breath away. "Then let me fight for you," he murmurs, his voice filled with determination. "I swear, Kay, I will find a cure, no matter what it takes. Even if I have to go to hell itself and resurrect that bastard who created this virus, I will not rest until you are safe."
You want to believe him, to trust in his promise to save you from the jaws of death. But deep down, you know that the odds are stacked against you, that the virus coursing through your veins is a formidable enemy that cannot be defeated with mere words and promises.
And yet, as you meet Harry's gaze, the flicker of hope in his eyes reignites something deep within you, a spark of defiance that refuses to be extinguished. "Please, Kay," he pleads, his voice soft but urgent. "Fight, if not for yourself, then for me. Resist, for me. I can't bear to lose you, not like this."
Tears prickle at the corners of your eyes as you struggle to find the strength to carry on, to fight against the relentless tide of despair that threatens to drag you under. But as you look into Harry's eyes, filled with a love and devotion that transcends words, you realize that you can't give up, not now, not ever.
With a deep breath, you nod, a silent vow passing between you and Harry in that fleeting moment. "I'll fight," you whisper, your voice barely above a hoarse whisper as you meet his gaze. "For you, Harry. I'll fight until my last breath, if that's what it takes."
And as Harry pulls you into his arms, his embrace a lifeline in the storm of uncertainty that surrounds you, you cling to him like a drowning man clutching at a life raft. In that moment, you know that no matter what the future may hold, as long as you have Harry by your side, you can face anything, even death itself.
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How to create believable characters
Anyone who has interacted with me on Tumblr knows how much I love to make different verses and alternate universes to see how my character would react and interact in new settings, new worlds, new situations. On Tumblr, it is a great way to meet new and interesting people, to branch out writing vice...
When it comes to writing this has taught me to see the core of my character. If you play a character in their canon setting and then wish to see them in a different setting you have to make a believable transition from one world to another. In order to those I always ask myself one simple question:
What has made them who they are?
That is the question that I always ask myself when I throw a character into a new setting. Which occasion in their canonical life has shaped so that they turned into the person they now are? If that occasion did not happen, who would they be now?
Let us look at this through an example. I used to roleplay as Morgana Pendragon from BBC’s Merlin. In the early seasons, she was warm and caring, she had a strong need for justice. In the last season, she had lost most of these qualities. Yes, she still longed for justice but justice only for her. She did not care about the corpses that were left in her wake. There was good Morgana and there was evil Morgana.
People are not born kind, nor are they born evil. They turn into these versions of themselves over the years. So if I wanted to find a believable new verse for either of the two I needed to ask myself what had caused these changes and how I could incorporate it into my new verse.
Morgana changed through a deeper understanding of herself. She at first was scared of who she was when her powers surfaced. She was alone or at least thought she was alone, in a world that saw her as the enemy. She turned into the one thing the King had taught her to fear. And then Morgause showed up and helped her. She extended a hand. She showed her a version of Morgana that could be in the future. A queen that would bring justice, a queen that did not need to fear her own magic. And she showed her the biggest betrayal that Morgana ever had to face: That Uther was in truth her father.
Morgause entered Morgana’s life at a turning point and was able to stir her into any wanted direction. I strongly believe that it was the biggest, if not only mistake, Merlin ever made. Had he understood - which he probably could not do at that moment in time - what was at stake, had he reached out to Morgana sooner and shown her that there was nothing to fear within magic, it would have changed the course of things.
Arthur had a similar turning point. When he heard about his mother’s true cause of death and challenged his father. Had Merlin not stopped him then we would have gotten a very different and much darker Arthur instead of an Uther 2.0 for a king. But that is on a different page.
Let us get back to Morgana. We now have pinpointed the moment that changed her, the influence Morgause had on her. So if we now wish to create a new verse for our evil Morgana we must ask ourselves: Has she been influenced by someone like Morgause, too? Why was she weakened in her strength and kindness so that this influence could grow? And if that is not the case, then what motivated her to step down this dark path?
If we cannot find the motivation, we cannot create a believable way of how she interacts and reacts.
I personally love to play around with the background of my characters. I ask myself what has made them who they are, and what would happen if I changed it? Motivation is the only thing that drives your characters forward so you need to put a lot of effort into it while crafting your story!
#writing advice#rph#;;series - what I learned from tumblr#roleplaying advice#in which everything is turned into Merlin Meta :D
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