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yelena-bellova · 4 years ago

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Safe Haven: tfatws!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader - Chapter Two

chapter one -Chapter Two: According To Plan - chapter three

Series Masterlist

Plot: Y/n and Sam leave for Munich, gaining the surprise addition of Bucky Barnes to their team.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader, Sam Wilson x platonic!reader

Warnings: spoilers for ep.2, language, violence, squint for fluff in between all the chaos, Y/n and Bucky ain’t feeling each other yet, protective big brother Sam, nobody likes Walker

Word Count: 7.5k (ya’ll, we had to split episode 2 into two chapters because I use too many words lol)

A/N: OKAY, thank you to everybody for supporting the first chapter. I didn’t really think anything would come of it but I was clearly wrong. Hopefully you enjoy this one just as much, each episode will probably be divided into two chapters if the rest of the season continues on like it is.

----

The government hadn’t just failed Sam, they were rubbing his face in the fact that they thought their knockoff Captain America was a better candidate than him.

I followed my brother down the halls of the New Orleans air force base, trying to ignore the paraphernalia that hung on the walls. John Walker was everywhere you looked; the internet, televisions, posters were plastered all over the city announcing his new appointment. Each time I had to read the words ‘Cap Is Back’ I became a little sick to my stomach. Sam stopped in front of me once we’d reached the hanger to stare at one of the posters. Though he tried to keep his face neutral, the sadness bled through in his eyes.

“Seems like a good guy. You met him?” a man who I assumed was Sam’s military contact asked.

“No,” Sam answered before changing the topic, “Thanks for doing this on such short notice.” “Yeah, no sweat. I’m just finishing up the checklist, you two’ll be all good to go once you land in Munich,” he looked to me and reached a hand for me to shake, “Joaquin Torres.” “Y/n Y/l/n. Thanks for not making any noise about me coming along for the ride.”

“Hey, I trust an Avenger’s judgement on who to bring to a fight,” he smiled, stopping at the top of the steps to allow me to go before himself.

I elbowed Sam as we descended the stairs side by side, “Hear that? You’ve got good judge- why’re you making that face?” Before he could answer, a foreign voice announced its presence. “Shouldn’t have given up the shield.”

My eyes fell to the floor below us and climbed the looming figure waiting at the end of the staircase. I didn’t need to have any history lessons on who he was or why he’d come to talk to Sam about such a subject. James Bucky Barnes, the second 100+ year old man to walk the earth without a single wrinkle. The tragic tale of HYDRA’s bloodthirsty history. The man Sam had fought to protect and been sent to prison for.

“Good to see you too, Buck,” Sam passively greeted the man, swerving around his body to continue on our path to the jet. The hint wasn’t taken.

“This is wrong.”

“Hey, hey, look, I’m working, alright? So all this outrage is gonna have to wait.” Bucky fell into step on the other side of Sam, pointing towards yet another poster of John Walker, “You didn’t know that was gonna happen?”

“No, of course I didn’t know that was gonna happen,” Sam’s tone became more emotional, “You think it didn’t break my heart to see them march him out there and call him the new Captain America?” “This isn’t what Steve wanted,” Bucky pushed. Sam was growing tired of the questioning, “What do you want me to do? Call America and tell ‘em I changed my mind? Huh? Yeah, right. It’s a great reunion, buddy, be well.” “You had no right to give up that shield, Sam.” I could no longer stay silent and let him try and make a good man feel guilty. “Okay, you’re out of line with that one, Barnes.” Bucky finally took a second to register my being there before looking back to Sam, “Who the hell is this?” “She’s none of your concern, but let me tell you what you’re not gonna do,” Sam stood in front of Bucky, “You’re not gonna come here in your overextended life and tell me about my rights. It’s over, Bucky. Besides, I have bigger things to deal with now.” Emotions I couldn’t fully understand took over Bucky’s face, “What could be bigger than this?”

Sam fished his phone out of his back pocket and held it up to the Super Soldier, “This guy. His connections with rebel organizations all over Eastern and Central Europe and he’s strong. Too strong.” “And?” Bucky asked, unimpressed.

“Well, he’s been connected to this online group called the Flag Smashers. Now, Redwing traced them to a building somewhere outside of Munich so that’s where I’m going,” Sam turned to me to signal we were walking again.

“Well, I don’t trust Redwing,” Bucky continued his pursuit, “Hold on a minute.” “You don’t have to trust Redwing,” Sam said firmly as we paused again, “But I’mma go see if he’s right. ‘Cause I have a feeling they might be a part of the Big Three.”

Bucky’s eyebrows lowered in confusion, “What ‘Big Three?’”

“The Big Three.”

“What Big Three?” “Androids, aliens and wizards,” I answered before Sam could. “That’s not a thing,” Bucky shook his head. “That’s definitely a thing,” Sam nodded. “No, it’s not.” “It really is,” I set my bag down on the ground and crossed my arms, there was no indication we’d be leaving any time soon.

“Every time we fight, we fight one of the three,” Sam insisted.

“So who are you fighting now, Gandalf?”

Sam inhaled to continue arguing before snapping his head back in surprise, “How do you know about Gandalf?” “I read The Hobbit,” Bucky answered confidently, “In 1937 when it first came out.”

“So you see my point?” “No, I don’t. There are no wizards.” I pointed to Bucky and tilted my head towards Sam, “Now there, I agree with him.” Sam looked offended that I didn’t automatically back him up, “You both are wrong…Doctor Strange.” “Is a sorcerer,” Bucky finished.

“Aah!” Sam laughed and poked Bucky’s firm chest, “A sorcerer is a wizard without a hat. Think about it, right? I’m right. I just came up with that, it’s crazy.” Bucky’s face read that he was thousand shades of done with Sam’s childish argument, even if he’d fought just as immaturely. I was beginning to see why Sam didn’t recount his brief time spent with the ex-Winter Soldier that fondly but I’d also forgotten how easy it was to push Sam’s buttons sometimes. There was some unwitting dynamic between them that I didn’t want to be in the middle of. “So glad we’re wasting valuable time on arguing over whether or not Harry Potter’s real,” I spoke up, tapping my foot out of impatience.

Sam was the first to snap back to reality, “That’s not the point. These guys aren’t magical, alright? They use brute force just like you, the incredibly annoying guy in front of me with the staring problem,” he reached down to grab my bag and hand it to me, “Let’s move.” “I’m coming with you,” Bucky called, the sound of his combat boots hitting the hanger floor behind us. “No, you’re not,” Sam answered harshly. “Oh my gosh,” I groaned before dropping my duffle bag again on the tarmac and spinning around to face the two men, “I don’t know how you two could have possibly saved the day as much as people say you have if you’re always like this! You,” I pointed to Sam, “Stop trying to do this on your own. You,” I moved my finger towards Bucky, “No more talking about the shield. If anybody needs me,” I wiggled my fingers and let the blue energy lift my bag into the air, “I’ll be waiting in the jet.” ——

Bucky and Sam stood speechless as they watched Y/n march across the tarmac, her bag magically floating behind her. “Who is she?” “My sister, Y/n,” Sam answered, “I didn’t know she could do that till today. She twisted my arm until I agreed to let her come.” Bucky’s eyes hadn’t left Y/n since she took control and ended Sam and his bickering. There weren’t many people who met him for the first time and didn’t give him a second glance. If she was Sam’s sister then she sure as hell knew about his past. Yet here she was daring to order him around and advocate for him to join Sam and her on their mission. It also went without saying that she was gorgeous. But she had proven that she didn’t understand the seriousness in which the situation with the new Captain America needed to be treated with, and that irked him. Still, his feet automatically wanted to carry him to the jet once she’d headed up the ramp and he’d lost his view of her. “Can’t decide whether I like her or not.”

——

Not having a suit to wear, I had changed on the jet from my sweater, capris and sneakers to a black shirt, jeans, booties and my favorite blue leather jacket that matched the blue that flowed from my fingertips.

When I stepped out of the jet’s bathroom, I expected to find Sam and Bucky fighting again. The whole flight so far has been filled with the same tension that had begun in the hanger and we’d been sitting in uncomfortable silence ever since. I was sure that the second I left, they’d be going at it again like children when a parent disappeared. Instead, they were quietly sitting on opposite sides of the jet with their eyes trained on one another.

“Can you guys quiet down for a second?” I sarcastically remarked as I walked across the room, “I can’t hear myself think.”

I deposited my bag in the corner of the jet near where Torres was climbing down the ladder, “One minute to drop off, Sam.”

I expected to turn around and see both Sam and Bucky up and preparing themselves, but the two men were still embroiled in a stare down. Sam and I had always cheesed each other off in a typical sibling fashion, but Bucky and his relationship seemingly consisted of nothing but that.

Sam finally rose from his seat and Bucky quickly did the same, I brushed past him to stand on the other side of Sam. “So what’s the plan?” Sam ignored the question and handed me a small black device, “This is your comm, don’t lose it.” I nodded and placed the small ear piece in my ear, the faint hums of the jet coming through it.

With no direction from Sam, Bucky sat back down unhappily. “Great. So no plan?”

“Thirty seconds,” Torres shouted over the wind coming in from the open hatch.

“Enjoy your ride, Buck,” Sam remarked from beside me. “No, you can’t call me that.” “Why not? That’s what Steve called you.” “Steve knew me longer and Steve,” Bucky tilted his head to Sam, “Had a plan.”

I shook my head to shake off the ridiculousness of arguing nicknames at the moment. “I’m sorry, are we really playing the name game when we’re literally about to jump out of a plane? I get this is my first mission and all but- Bucky’s eyebrows shot up his forehead as he looked to Sam, “This is her first mission? What the hell were you thinking, bringing her?” “She,” I took a step towards Bucky, “Is more than capable of handling herself. First mission or 100th, I know what I’m doing, Barnes.”

“Fifteen seconds to drop!” Torres’ announcement ended any further arguing between me and Bucky.

“Listen to the woman,” Sam smirked as he put on his goggles, probably thinking back to a few hours ago when I’d body slammed him into the roof, “And I have a plan.”

“Really?” Bucky spread his arms out as we watched Sam walk away from us, “What is it?” Sam had already told me that he’d drop in first and I was to follow once he’d cleared the area. Bucky had not been privy to hearing that discussion and Sam had made no effort to fill him in. Without giving Bucky a second look, but winking at me, he dove headfirst out of the hatch and activated his wings, flying gracefully downwards towards the forest. I had never gotten to see him fly and felt a sense of pride as I looked out to see him glide above the trees.

“Where’s the chute?” Bucky called out.

“We’re at 200 feet, it’s too low for a chute,” Torres stated.

Bucky stalked towards the door, “I don’t need it anyway.”

“Neither will I,” I said, taking a step forward to see just how high we really were. I was confidant in my ability to keep up with Sam and wanted to prove my capability, but I was human. It went against every natural instinct to step out into the air and catch myself. Bucky moved to stand next to me, the two of us turning to face each other. This was the first time we’d actually made more than fleeting eye contact and I was finally able to get a good look at him. His features were sharp, his cheekbones and jaw were extremely prominent. Something more than scruff and less than a beard covered the bottom half of his face. His eyes were cerulean blue, just nearly matching the shade of my energy. Complete with a short, scruffy haircut, I wasn’t sure if handsome was a strong enough word for just how good looking James Barnes was.

“Ladies first,” Bucky nodded towards our exit, never breaking eye contact, “Sure you know what you’re doing?” I smiled smugly, matching the amount of sass radiating from his words, “Do you?”

Not wanting to give him the opportunity to think up a come back, I turned away from him and threw myself out of the plane. An unavoidable scream flew from my lips as I free fell, somehow managing in the chaos to threw my arms out at my sides and expel my energy to control my descent. Once I got a hold on maneuvering the winds, the act actually became almost enjoyable. I found myself laughing as I weaved between the trees, until my laughter was accompanied by a fast approaching scream above me. A shower of branches began to rain down around me forcing me to swerve to the side just in time for Bucky’s figure to come crashing through. He landed harshly on his back, limbs spread out and a pained groan escaping his lips.

I floated directly above him, “I stand corrected, you definitely know what you’re doing.” “I have all of that on camera. You know that, right?” Sam’s voice came through our comms. Redwing flew up from behind us and zoomed in on Bucky’s face.

“Get out of my face, Sam, or I’ll break it,” Bucky uttered, exhaustion filling his voice.

“Okay, head north. Come on.” I snickered at the exchange and lowered myself to the ground close enough to Bucky to extend him a hand. He accepted it and I helped pull him to an upright sitting position, trying to hide the fact that I struggled with his weight. “Thanks.” “Well, my mom taught me to always help my elders,” I said with a smirk, earning myself a scowl in response. “You’re as bad as Sam, aren’t you?” he moaned as he rose to his full height.

“Okay, okay,” I ceased my soft laughter, “I’m sorry. Seriously, are you okay? I know you’re a super soldier but still-” “I’m fine,” Bucky confirmed quickly, brushing the dirt from his jacket and turning north, “Let’s go.”

The two of us fell into a silence that wasn’t necessarily uneasy but certainly not relaxed. We weren’t enemies, we weren’t coworkers and we definitely weren’t friends. We’d spoken all of about five sentences to each other since meeting and none of them had been particularly chummy. “Sam only mentioned one sister,” Bucky broke the non-verbal spell.

“Sarah,” I stated, “We’re not technically related but they’re family. Sam told me he reached out to you and never got anything back. I think he was wondering how you were doing.” “Yeah, well…” he mumbled, stepping over a particularly large boulder and avoiding my gaze.

I decided not to push the subject, not only were we nearing the warehouse, Sam could hear us through the comms and Redwing. But I made a note of the lightning quick wave of emotion that crossed Bucky’s eyes. Sam was definitely a trigger for him, but I had a feeling this was something much more complicated. Something I didn’t have time to get too curious over.

We made it out of the forest and Redwing led us to the back entrance to the warehouse. The graffiti and wrecked roofing made me want to believe that nobody had been there in ages, but Sam’s intel contradicted the setting. My brother, the esteemed military man, was also contradicting his age as he maneuvered Redwing just above us to provoke Bucky into taking a swing at him. “Oh-ho-ho, don’t hurt him,” he teased as Redwing quickly avoided the assault.

Sam stood in the next room staring down at the screen on his wrist, scanning the building through Redwing’s camera. He took a quick look at me to assess that I hadn’t been injured in the fall before turning back.

“You’re doing the staring thing again,” he commented without looking up. That one I’d give him, Bucky’s smoldering stare game was intimidating especially when he wasn’t saying anything. “They’re in there,” Sam tilted his head towards the nearest open doorway and stretching his arm out so Bucky and I could see what Redwing was seeing. There was a truck with two people loading in containers of something.

“Where’s the guy?” Bucky asked.

“I don’t know. I think they’re smuggling weapons though.” “Well, I think you could be right,” Bucky’s voice lowered. “Hmm,” Sam nodded.

“But there’s only one way to find out,” Bucky turned towards the doorway, “I see a clear path, I say we take it.”

As soon as his boot hit the ground in its first step, Sam reached for his arm. “We’re not assassins.” “Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, observe from a distance rather than attack straight away?” I offered.

Bucky’s eyes flicked to me when I spoke and promptly back to Sam, throwing away my suggestion. He probably thought me naive. “I’ll see you inside or not.”

He pulled his arm out of Sam’s grip and went ahead, leaving Sam chuckling to himself. “Hey, come on, man. I’m just messing with you, come back,” he called softly. “‘I’m just messing with you,’ the Avengers’ official slogan,” I dryly jested, “Here I was thinking we were doing serious work. Is Redwing still surveying?” “Yeah,” Sam was still smiling to himself as he turned to watch Bucky stalk down the hallway, “Look at you. All stealthy. A little time in Wakanda and you come out White Panther.”

“It’s actually White Wolf,” Bucky responded in our ears.

“Huh?”

When we lost visual on Bucky, Sam snapped his fingers and nodded towards the hallway. We made our way through the various openings until we’d caught up, Sam held up a finger to his lips as we caught sight of Bucky and our steps became even softer.

“All right, I’m inside. Therefore way ahead of you,” Bucky bragged, turning back to where he thought we waited, “It’s not great but very doable.” His peripherals must have caught the red and white of Sam’s suit, he turned to see the two of us at his side. “Hello. How are you?” “Good. What did we miss? Nothing,” Sam replied.

“All right, let’s go,” Bucky moved to step forward again.

“No, wait,” Sam protested.

Bucky held up his prosthetic vibranium arm I had heard so much about. “I got a vibranium arm, I can take them.” “And I can fly, she can make things float, who gives a shit? Wait. I want to see where they’re going.” Bucky pointed towards the truck that was still being loaded, “There’s two people.”

“You only see two?” Sam started. “That’s what I saw,” Bucky confirmed.

“Let me see what Redwing sees.” “All right…” “Let’s see what Redwing sees…”

I held two fingers to my temple and rubbed, “My gosh, it’s like working with children.”

Sam fiddled with a few controls on the screen and activated the x-ray feature on his beloved drone, “Oh, look at that. How many people you see now? One, two…Oh, here it comes again.” Bucky sighed, unhappy to admit he was wrong, “Four. Five.” “Yeah, five.” “So they’re strong, whatever,” Bucky brushed off not only the math but our group’s capabilities. “Let’s go.”

“Barnes, wait,” I hissed as Sam reached out and took hold of his arm, his elbow hitting the metal shelves we were hiding behind and rattling something.

“Shit!” Sam whispered, he pulled me to his side to block me while Bucky ducked down. The group turned to investigate the noise but disregarded it at the lack of visible culprits. The trucks started and their doors were closed, each person getting into their designated vehicle. Sam started tapping on Redwing’s controller again, “There’s an eighth person. I think they have a hostage.”

With one look from Bucky, the three of us snapped into action. I raised myself into the air ahead of Sam who took off slightly behind me, looking down to see Bucky running impossibly fast. “Y/n, with me,” Sam called through the comms, I listened and hung back until he’d caught up. Bucky continued on his way until he’d climbed onto the back of the truck. I followed Sam’s lead as we flew to the side of the road.

“Shouldn’t we be helping him?” I asked as the two of us landed.

“They’re stealing medicine, vaccines,” Bucky’s voice filled my comm.

“He’s got it, we’re staying here and waiting for him to come back with the hostage. Then you and I are gonna keep following the trucks and see where they’re heading,” he explained, “I’m trying to keep you out of as much of the fight as I can.” “That’s the whole reason I came, Sam,” I argued, gesturing towards the road, “To help, to fight.”

“Bucky, talk to me,” Sam favored to ignore my desire to do dirty work, “What’s goin’ on?”

“Found the hostage,” he reported, followed only seconds later by a loud exclaim of “Shit!”

Adrenaline set every nerve alight in my body, something had gone wrong. Without asking for Sam’s permission I took off running down the road. I used my energy to lift towards the sky and flew the same way the truck’s had gone. Distantly, I heard Sam yell my name but made no effort to stop. “Barnes, talk to me,” I yelled over the winds I was flying against. As I spotted the trucks I saw the small silhouettes of figures standing atop one of them. Once I got closer, I could see that the one being aggressively pinned by two of them was Bucky. I landed on the vehicle’s roof just in time to see someone leap into the air, grab Redwing and break him with their knee. Between my want to help Bucky and my second hand protectiveness over Sam’s gear, I was pissed. The masked figure looked up at me, two brown eyes peeking out of eyeholes and marched forward, making me their next target. I created a ball of blue energy and aimed it at her, knocking her down but only for a second. She leapt towards me and landed a punch across my cheek, I went down with a groan and cradling my cheek. Now I was really pissed…

I opened an eye to see the shadow of Sam’s Falcon suit above me, he touched down on the truck and landed a kick to my assaulter’s abdomen. He quickly helped me to my feet as our enemy rose again and took a fight stance.

“Good of you to join the fight, Sam,” Bucky yelled before kicking one of his captors in the leg.

The person who had given me the shiner threw Sam aside to the second truck like he was weightless. She was far too small to be that strong, it was inhuman. I decided to hold back a little less and raised my hands toward her, extending waves of the blue energy and raising her up into the air. She struggled to try and escape my hold, grunting and groaning as she flopped around in the air. I was about to throw her into the trees when I was tackled from behind. We skidded towards the front of the truck till the boot of one of the thugs holding Bucky down hit me in the shoulder. Another masked figure, this one I suspected to be a man, had his arms wrapped tightly around my abdomen. He flipped me over and raised his head to slam into mine. Luckily he hadn’t thought to pin my arms down and his mistake allowed me to throw them in front of my face and create a force field that even the thickest of skulls couldn’t penetrate. I looked briefly to see Sam being pinned down as well on the second truck but couldn’t free myself to go help him.

And then, in a conflicting twist of events, a red white and blue shield came flying through the air.

As I struggled to keep the force field up and my arms locked, I made out an equally patriotic suited man throw the shield at the one who had punched me earlier. A second figure swung in from a helicopter and kicked her off the truck, leaving her clinging to the edge of the roof. The shield flew in the direction of the people holding Bucky down and hit one square in the back before bouncing back to its wielder. The guy holding me down was struck next and rolled right off of me, I sent a significantly bigger blast towards his chest that sent him flying off the back of the truck. Bucky reached down and helped me stand up, he pulled me out of the way when the shield came flying by our faces to hit his other attackers.

“You gotta be kidding me,” I panted.

John Walker stopped briefly to introduce himself to Sam, like he hadn’t been living rent free in our minds since that damned tv broadcast before sending the shield flying past Bucky and I again. As it bounced off our enemies and back towards Walker, Bucky’s metal hand snapped up to grab it only for Walker to retake it. The time for anger or sadness wasn’t now, though the forlorn expression on Bucky’s face said otherwise. I broke from him and launched myself across the gap between trucks to land near where Sam was being attacked. Bucky followed suit and we began taking out each person one by one till Sam stood and turned too fast, hitting and sending Bucky plus one of the masked thugs over the side of the truck. Sam and I turned to face our last attacker who was stalking toward us, Sam glanced over his shoulder quickly before looking back ahead. “When I say ‘now,’ you shoot up,” he ordered, “Now!” I blasted upwards and over the overhead road sign he’d known would hit our attacker. I was too high to drop down suddenly but watched as Sam touched back down on the truck to be punched off the truck, activating his wings and catching himself in the wind. I flew downwards and lined up with the side of the truck, searching frantically for Bucky while trying to dodge the cars to my left. Bucky was clinging for dear life to the underside of the truck. His attacker stomped his metal arm with his boot till Bucky lost his grip with it and it dragged along the road creating a flurry of sparks.

“Sam, what do we do?” I yelled into my comm. “Now when I say ‘drop,’ you drop.” “Are you insane?!” I screeched, looking down at the asphalt and trying to calculate how fast I may be going. “DROP!”

Putting the most trust I ever had in Sam, I stopped the energy flow and was tackled mid-air by him. I twisted in his arms to wrap my legs around one of his and my arms around his back. Without warning, he flew us under the nearest truck before letting go of me with one arm and tackling Bucky. I readjusted my grip to have one arm around both of them. We dropped out of the air and crash-landed, rolling like a grunting and groaning wheel through a field of yellow flowers. Eventually we ceased our tumbling with Bucky on top of Sam and me to the side still clinging to both of them.

“Could have used that shield,” Bucky ground out tauntingly in Sam’s face.

“Get off of me,” Sam strained, shoving Bucky off with another loud grunt. I rolled to his other side and coughed loudly, having had the wind knocked out of me during the crash. The three of us lay on our backs trying to regain our breath, Sam and I more than Bucky but I chalked that up to the fact that he was just as strong as the people we’d just gotten our asses handed to us by. “Those were all Super Soldiers, Sam,” he stated in awe.

“I know,” Sam confirmed, “You’re welcome, by the way.” He pushed himself up painfully on an elbow to lean over me, “Are you okay?”

I was finally starting to feel like I could get some semblance of a normal breath in. I’d have wished it was running around with AJ and Cass that would have showed me I was out of shape and not losing a fight to Super Soldiers. “‘Big Three’ my ass, Wilson,” I wheezed, making no effort to sit up yet.

“I said ‘might be’,” Sam weakly fought, “‘Might be.’ Clearly I was wrong.”

“Will wonders never cease?” Bucky winced as he sat up, “We need to get to the airport and reformulate.” “Oh, do we now? Do we need to reformulate?” Sam mocked from the ground, “I hadn’t thought of that yet, Bucky, what an incredible-�� I groaned loudly and forced my torso up, “Dear God above, if you two don’t stop acting like twelve year olds, I’ll catch a Delta flight home.” “Good, that’s where I wanted you,” Sam reprimanded as he rose to join me, “I told you if you took some stupid risk, you were going back home and what did you do? You took off on your own towards those trucks!” “I was trying to help him,” I threw my hand out towards Bucky, “One way or another I would have gotten hurt, Sam, whether I’d have waited for you or not. And now that I’ve actually seen what we’re dealing with? No way am I going home.” I rolled onto my knees and got to my feet, my muscles aching with each movement I made to stand in front of the two men. “When you two decide to start acting like adults, I’ll meet you back at the jet.”

Holding in each groan that wanted to escape my mouth, I started my trek back towards the road, not making it very far until I heard two pairs of footsteps behind me.

We walked that way for most of the way, Sam and Bucky muttering something every once in a while to each other and me ahead of them trying to wrap my head around the situation. I had gotten myself tangled in the world of super soldiers, ones who weren’t using their advanced capabilities to save the world from one of the actual Big Three. Not only that but we’d had the displeasure of being rescued by the person the three of us had wanted to see least in the world. I had started the day out having coffee with Sarah on our back porch and by eastern standard time zone’s definition was ending it in Germany mid-afternoon with a killer bruise developing on my cheek. Whatever I had expected to come from joining Sam, it sure as hell wasn’t this.

A car honk summoned me out of my thoughts, an open roofed vehicle came up beside me and I was quick to identify the passengers. John Walker and the helicopter soldier.

“So that didn’t go as planned, huh?” Walker attempted to make friendly conversation, specifically with Sam and Bucky but I could sense I was also welcome to answer. I didn’t cease my movements and neither did Sam and Bucky which only caused Walker to instruct the driver to get ahead of us again. “Look, at least we know what we’re up against now, huh? And we’re pretty sure it’s one of the Big Three, so…” “Aliens, androids, or wizards?” the unnamed soldier double checked with Walker, who responded that he was still almost certain.

“There’s no such thing as wizards,” Bucky grumbled from behind me, sounding like the old man he biologically was.

“Then it’s aliens, or androids,” Walker shrugged. “Or Super Soldiers,” Sam corrected.

“Shit, Super Soldiers, for real?” Walker’s sidekick asked before turning in his seat to face, “Do you believe that?” “I believe that you two don’t know how to take a hint,” I frustratedly smiled at him, “But yes, I do.”

“Wow. All right, well, then we gotta work together,” Walker said. Bucky scoffed, “That’s not happening.”

“I think we stand a much better chance if we all just-“ Bucky finally lost his patience and said the thing we all were thinking, “Just ‘cause you carry that shield, it doesn’t mean you’re Captain America.”

Walker was quick to defend himself, “Look, I’ve done the work, okay?”

Bucky was equally as quick to prove him wrong, “You ever jump on top of a grenade?” “Yeah. Actually, I have. Four times,” Walker explained, “It’s a thing I do with my helmet. It’s a reinforced helmet. It’s a long story, but, look…It’s 20 miles to the airport, you guys need a ride.” A sudden cramp tore through my shin causing me to sharply inhale and grab the leg. Through the pain I managed to exhale and begin limping back along the path, “We’re good, thanks.”

“At least let us take her, she’s injured,” I heard Walker attempt to convince Sam and Bucky, knowing that I was probably a means to an end to get them in the car.

I didn’t get very far before I felt Sam’s arm wrap around my waist, “C’mon…” As much as I wanted to fight him on it, I knew I wouldn’t make it more than a few steps before I was bent over again in pain. The adrenaline had worn off and my whole body was starting to ache deeply in a way that made even breathing hurt where it shouldn’t. I dropped my head in frustration and nodded, putting my arm around Sam’s shoulder to let him brace me. He helped me limp back to the car where Bucky gently handled my other side, the two of them lifted me into the vehicle where Walker and his friend tried to help me sit down. I shrugged off their unwelcome hands and used the roof’s poles to lower myself into a seat. Sam jumped in and sat on one side of me, gently lifting the leg that was really bothering me onto his lap to try and massaging my shin. Bucky climbed in on my other side and gave me a once over, trying to assess if I was in any further pain that I wasn’t letting on to.

“Okay,” Walker began as the car rocked to life again, “So we’ve got eight Super Soldiers on a bulk supply run. Why?” “They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during The Blip,” Sam explained, “Maybe they’re just trying to help.” “They had a funny way of showing it,” Bucky commented.

“That serum doesn’t exactly have a great track record,” Walker quickly looked to Bucky, “No offense.” I tried not to judge people too harshly upon first meeting them, but I had no problem deciding right away that Walker was an asshole.

“We need to figure out where they’re going,” Sam spoke up before an argument could break out, “How’d you track ‘em here? The Flag Smashers?”

“Uh, no, we didn’t track them. We tracked you, uh, through Redwing,” Walker’s friend answered, dipping his head down to avoid Sam’s stony gaze.

“You hacked my tech?” “Sorry,” Walker laughed, “It’s not exactly hacking. It’s government property,” he gestured to himself, “Kind of the government.” My lips parted and I tilted my head, ”Are you kidding me?”

“I’m sorry,” Walker extended his hand out to me, “John Walker, Captain America. And you are?” I glanced between his hand and him, “Not impressed.” He awkwardly retracted it and turned away from me to Bucky, “Does he always just stare like that?” “You get used to it,” Sam replied, suddenly he had no problem with Bucky’s habit.

“Okay, look,” Walker cleared his throat, “You know things have gotten kind of, uh…” “Chaotic,” his friend finished for him.

“Yeah. The GRC, they’re doing the best they can to get things up and running smoothly, post Blip.” “Reactivating citizenship, social security, healthcare. Basically just managing resources for the refugees who were displaced by the return.”

“The Global Repatriation Council does all that, I get that,” Sam said impatiently, “So why exactly are you two here?”

“Well, they provide the resources and we keep things stable,” the soldier answered.

“Yeah, violent revolutionaries aren’t usually good for anyone’s cause,” Walker said. “Usually said by the people with the resources,” Sam looked up from the work he was doing on my leg to look dead at Walker.

“We got a lot of resources,” he stated confidantly, “If you guys, if you joined up with us, we could-“ “No,” Bucky and I said in unison, now having agreed on two things. Walker was a phony and wizards weren’t real.

“I got mad respect for both of ya’ll,” Walker’s friend complimented, “You too, ma’am. But you were kinda getting your asses kicked till we showed up.” Bucky finally dragged his stare off of Walker, “Who are you?” “Lemar Hoskins.” “Look, I see a guy hanging out of a helicopter in tactical gear, I need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins,” Sam commented.

“I’m Battlestar,” Lemar reintroduced himself, “John’s partner.” “‘Battlestar?’” Bucky echoed the ridiculous nickname, snapping his head suddenly toward the driver, “Stop the car!”

The driver obeyed and quickly halted in the middle of the road, giving Bucky the opportunity to jump out of the car. He raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for me to join him but I wasn’t about to leave Sam’s side. I held a hand up to him to which he responded by closing the back door and starting down the path that veered off the main road.

“Look, I…I get it, okay? I get the attitude, I do,” Walker started, he couldn’t come close to understanding how insulted all three of us were for one uniting reason, “You don’t think that the shield was gonna end up here. I get it, Bucky,” even the call of his name wasn’t enough to make him stop, “And I’m…I’m not trying to be Steve. I’m not trying to replace Steve.” “Could’ve fooled me,” I snorted, removing my leg from Sam’s lap as he’d stopped rubbing it long ago. “I’m just trying to be the best Captain America I can be, that’s it,” Walker focused his eyes on my brother, “It’d be a whole lot easier if I had Cap’s wingmen on my side.” Sam scoffed and looked out of the corner of his eyes at me as if to make sure he hadn’t heard incorrectly. He hadn’t, and I was about two seconds away from putting my powers to good use and beating Walker with his own shield that he could never truly hold ownership of. “It’s always that last line…”

Sam climbed over me and hopped out first before helping to lower me to the ground. A defeated Walker ordered the driver to leave and we watched to make sure they actually left for good. “Torres said he’s nice?” I asked sarcastically as we resumed our familiar posture of Sam helping me walk. “Torres is young, impressionable and follows every order he’s given. Guys like Walker have a problem with anyone who doesn’t take their every word as gospel.”

“Well, your mom made us attend enough church when we were kids for me to know that right there,” I pointed back to the car that was now a dot in the distance, “Is a false prophet.”

I trained my eyes ahead of us, Bucky hadn’t gotten too far and it looked like he had actually slowed his pace for us to catch up easier. While I was angry with the government for appointing Walker and the man himself, I knew that the pain Sam and Bucky were feeling was exponentially heavier to deal with. They’d already lost their friend and Walker was the salt being rubbed in the wound.

When we did eventually make it to the plane an hour later, I was biting back tears at how much pain I was in. Sam took notice of how I was trying to conceal them as we approached the tarmac and carried me the rest of the way.

“I gotta check for any internal bleeding,” he said as he set me down gently on the seats of the jet, “And you’re going home.” “No, I’m not,” I moaned. “Yes, you are,” he scolded as he lifted up my shirt to the bottom of my bra so that he could get a clear view of my abdomen, “Sarah’s gonna pound my ass into the ground as it is for bringing you back bruised.” My eyes could no longer stay opened, further fluttering shut as I didn’t hear Sam state that he saw anything concerning. “Get some sleep,” he ordered, “I’ll take care of anything I find.” Just before I drifted off, I heard a second body kneel down next to Sam. “She okay?” “Yeah, she’ll be fine,” he answered Bucky, “I just should have never brought her.”

————

When I did wake up, the plane was dark except for the minimal lighting towards the cockpit. I attempted to sit up, biting back a groan as I did. There was a blanket draped over my bottom half and my jacket was now folded underneath my head as a makeshift pillow. Sam was sleeping upright near my feet, arms crossed and snoring quietly.

“Glad to see you’re okay,” a quiet voice startled me, I turned to see it was Bucky. “A little out of my depth,” I remarked, rubbing one of my eyes, “But yeah, okay.”

Bucky nodded and looked back down at his folded hands, for some reason the contrast of the gold and black metal meeting the pale flesh fascinated me. He must’ve sensed I was staring because he peered up at me through his lashes. I quickly looked away, “I’m guessing we’re on our way back to New Orleans.” “Baltimore, actually,” he replied.

“What’s in Baltimore?” I whispered, trying not to wake Sam. “Someone that Sam needs to meet.” “Okay,” I slowly swung my legs off the seats to properly face him, “Who’s in Baltimore?” Bucky gave me a tired look, “Just someone, you’ll meet him too.” I bristled slightly at his answer, shooting him a half smile. “You don’t trust people, do you, Barnes?”

I wouldn’t call what his lips did was a smile, but maybe a sarcastic knock off of one. “You ask a lot of questions, you know?”

“Only when people don’t give me any answers,” I fired back in a contradictorily easy tone, “Look, you don’t have to trust me. That’s fine, I’m going home after whatever surprise you have for us anyway so you won’t have to deal with me slowing you guys down anymore.” “Sam was endangering you by bringing a civilian to an Avengers level fight,” he quickly said, “That’s on him, not you. And none of us were exactly at our best today.” A supercut of the three of us each getting slapped around silly on top of the trucks played in my mind. He was definitely right, nobody could have predicted that we’d be thrown for such a loop. Not even the man pretending to be Captain America. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Walker,” I offered as softly as I could, “I’ve watched him parade that shield around on tv for days and I’ve gotten angrier each time. Not saying it’s the same as what you’re feeling but…I’m just sorry.” Bucky didn’t respond, he actually looked away from me and back down at his hands. “You should get some more sleep, we’re still a ways out.” It was clear I wasn’t going to get anywhere with him, not that I felt any burning desire to try to get him to open up. I’d only tried out of politeness and the slight glimmer of curiosity I held when it came to what lay beneath his hardened surface. “Goodnight, Barnes,” I said, laying back down and rolling over so I didn’t have to look at him any longer.

----

A/N: Let me know what you thought and/or if you’d like to be tagged! There’s still a lot of surprises that are coming...

Safe Haven taglist: @tanyaherondale @wanniiieeee @asoftie4bucky @edencherries @i-reblog-fics-i-like @ttalisa @gcfty @withyoutilltheendofthismess @rinaispunk @weirdowithnobeardo @felicityofbakerstreet @godlypotterwhodiaries @eternalharry @voguesir @mizz-kraziii @okayline @smellmymisunderstoodfluff @wanderin-stories @nicklet94 @intricate-melody @aesthethickks @stumbleonmywords @simplybarnes @21bruhs @lostinwonderland314 @superbookishhufflepuff @themaddies-obx

#bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem!reader #sam wilson x reader #sam wilson x platonic!reader #marvel imagine

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lilyofthesword-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Sorceress (Loki Oneshot)

Summary: Loki comes to stay at the Avengers Tower while you are away on a mission. He becomes quite interested in you when he learns you wield magic similar to him and Doctor Strange.

Pairing: Loki x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,260

Warnings/Disclaimers: Anxiety issues, brief mentions of blood loss and injury, Wanda being an awesome friend

Masterlist

You wound your way into the kitchen and flipped on the electric kettle. Gathering your mug, you pulled out your calming tea blend. Today was the first day of the semester, and it always made you anxious. You felt like you had not rested one bit over the summer break. It probably didn’t help that Fury had sent you on a mission for most of it and you just returned yesterday, but there wasn’t much you could do about it. Just keep moving. This was your life now.

You went over the mental checklist in your head. Syllabus, notes, handouts...

“And who might you be?”

The low, charming voice ripped you from your thoughts, causing you to jump and almost knock over your mug. Swinging around to face the intruder, you found Loki the God of Mischief hovering closely behind you. You had forgotten about Thor contacting you on your mission to tell you Loki would be kept at the Tower for his punishment. Tony made him call you, something he did when he was afraid of you being angry. You had heard Tony coaching Thor in the background of the call.

“Don’t do that!”

He chuckled, taking a step back. “My sincerest apologies.”

“Riiiight.”

You folded your arms and took in his appearance. He definitely did not look the same as he did on the news when he tried to take New York. From the images you had seen, his eyes were wild and sunken and his face gave off a sense of malnourishment. The god standing before you now looked healthy with bright not quite blue but not quite green eyes that held a sprinkle of boyish mischief. Maybe Thor had it right about the possible mind control.

“Shall we start anew?” He bowed lightly, delicately taking the fingers of your right hand in his, forcing you to uncross your arms. “I am Prince Loki of Asgard.”

Oh no... Boyo was laying it on thick.

Nervously clearing your throat, you introduced yourself.

“A lovely name, my lady. May I ask why I have not seen you here before?”

He was still holding your hand. You could feel his energy pushing against yours. Was he trying to test your abilities?

“I was on a mission overseas. Just got back last night.”

“That is a shame. I would have preferred your presence here when I first arrived.”

You heard the click of the kettle and pulled your hand away to pour the hot water in your mug. He seemed almost disappointed by the loss of contact.

“I heard from Wanda that it was pure chaos for a while. She practically begged me to abandon the mission and come home,” you chuckled. “Don’t know if that would have done any good though.”

Taking a sip of your still brewing tea, you realized Loki had retaken the step back from earlier and was nearly looming over you. You regained that space, heading for the door.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, but if you’ll excuse me, I need to finish preparing for class.”

You rocketed out the door before he had a chance to respond.

You flopped on your bed after taking a portal home. Your closest friend Wanda was there to greet you.

“So how are all the magic newbies you ditched me for?” she teased.

You huffed a laugh. “Same old, same old. College freshmen who think they already know everything. They’ll be in a world of hurt in the coming weeks.”

“At least being an adjunct professor has its perks, right?”

“Yeah. I have some semblance of a life.”

You both started giggling at that.

“Are you still going to eat with everyone for dinner tonight?”

“I don’t see why not. Today was only day one of classes. Nothing to grade yet.”

“Maybe Loki will chill out then.”

You casted Wanda a concerned look. “What do you mean?”

She rolled her eyes and sat up on the bed. “Ever since Thor mentioned you could wield magic, Loki kept asking when you would be back.”

“Huh,” you mulled. “Guess that would explain this morning.”

“This morning?”

You nodded and hummed. “Yeah. I was in the kitchen making tea when he showed up.”

“You talked to him before me?!” She shoved you playfully, feigning hurt feelings.

“Because I totally planned it,” you laughed.

“So what did you think?”

“You mean other than tall, dark and handsome?” You paused as she snickered. “He’s alright, I guess. He was being overly nice.”

Wanda scoffed. “That little... Okay. So, when he wasn’t holed up in his room or the library being all nice and quiet, he kept making all these snarky comments to everyone. Then, there was the pranking... He saved that mostly for Tony though.”

“So what you’re saying is to keep my guard up because he could go bipolar on me.”

“Yup.”

“Great... This is going to be fun... How long is he staying?”

“Indefinitely.”

All you could do was groan and hide your head in your pillow.

Dinner was suffocating to say the least. Loki joined the team in the dining area, apparently a rarity for him, and they were not happy about it. Well, it was mostly the original team members, the ones who fought against Loki in the Battle of New York. The newer members like you and Wanda, while not fond of him either, couldn’t care less. Thor seemed to be the only who was content, shoveling food down his throat, unable to read the room with a silence so palpable and deafening.

This is... awkward. Wanda spoke to you through her mind, something she usually did when she was uncomfortable but still needed to express herself.

No kidding. I’m thinking about ditching.

Aren’t you hungry though?

Starving! But I can’t eat like this. I’ll come back down in a couple of hours for something. Maybe I’ll watch a movie til then.

Room for one more?

Always!

With half your plate empty, you excused yourself and disposed of the scraps in the kitchen. Steve, who usually fussed at you about your not so great eating habits, did not say a word. Sneaking some snacks for the movie from the kitchen, you went back to your room to wait for Wanda who popped by about ten minutes later.

You woke with a start, stomach growling and gurgling. You blinked away the sleep from your eyes and looked around. Wanda was long gone. You guessed she went back to her room after you fell asleep at some point. She was at least nice enough to turn off the TV before disappearing.

Your belly rumbled, again. Reluctantly leaving behind the warmth of your blankets, you stumbled to your feet and hobbled to the kitchen. You reached for the light switch, the kitchen being too dim in the low lighting left on at night. The lights turned on before you could find it.

“I was wondering when you would arrive.” Your name slid off Loki’s tongue like silk.

Letting out a breath, you tempered your scowl. “What made you think I was coming down here?”

“Aside from the dinner you barely touched?” he chuckled as he traced a finger across the counter. “Well, it can be considered rude to hold a private conversation from such a small group of people.”

You shouldn’t have been surprised by a magic wielder being able to see what other magic wielders are doing.

You folded your arms. “It’s definitely considered rude to eavesdrop.”

“That is quite true.” His signature smirk graced his face. “Although, is it really eavesdropping when I did not listen to what was being said? I merely sensed the exchange of energies.”

“Sure...” You didn’t believe him, but you would let it go for now. It’s not like you two had said anything damning. You just needed to be a bit more careful moving forward. “Now would you be so kind as to stand aside? I would like something to eat, and you’re blocking the fridge.”

“My apologies, but perhaps I may be of better service to you with,” he snapped his fingers, “this.”

The leftovers from dinner instantly appeared piping hot on a plate.

“How did you-”

“Come now. I thought you were a sorceress,” he smirked teasingly.

There was the ego you were expecting.

“I can manage the same end result,” you pouted. “But... the steps leading to it would be different...”

“I could always show you how.”

That grin and those alluring aventurine eyes would be the death of you. You wanted so badly to say yes. While you had the schooling and moved on to helping others, there was still so much more to learn. To say you were eager would be an understatement. The problem was you just met this Trickster God. How could you trust him so soon?

“I... I appreciate the offer, but maybe another time.”

You tucked some of your hair behind your ear. Why did you feel guilty for turning him down?

“Of course. The offer remains standing. Enjoy your dinner, Sorceress,” he replied, his disappointed voice betraying his stoic demeanor.

With that, he swiftly left the room. Yeah. You felt bad. Maybe you would find a way to make it up to him.

Weeks later, and you were frustrated beyond belief. The last lesson you attempted to teach was going nowhere. You needed help, and you needed it now.

You sprung from your room with your notes and textbook and practically sprinted to the library where Loki could usually be found. You were right. There he was lounging with his back to you on one of the couches amongst the books, reading Dante’s Divine Comedy.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Sorceress?” He didn’t even look up from the text. Not a good sign.

Taking a breath, you answered, “I was hoping I could get your help with something.”

That got his attention. “Oh? Would you not rather ask that Strange fellow the others prefer to associate with.” he scowled.

Great. Of course, he had to be in one of those moods today. His mood swings were to be expected but the timing was difficult to predict.

“Pff. The last time I asked him for help, he was a total ass. Just because he trained with a master overseas for a short period of time and has a photographic memory does not mean he fully understands every magical concept.” You brought your rant to a halt. You could say so much more but doubted anyone wanted to listen.

“Well, someone who sees that charlatan for what he truly is,” he snorted, snapping his book shut. “Now, pray tell, why would I assist you when your magic is so similar to his?”

Adding fuel to the fire. The rant was back on. With a huff, you came around to the front of the sofa and dropped your supplies on the coffee table, taking a seat next to him.

“You really want to get me started, don’t you? Look, I have been practicing and studying magic since I was child before I even knew what I was even doing. Hell, I’m still learning. That will never stop. I have worked my ass off to get this far. That’s why I get frustrated with Strange. He never believed in magic until it could help him in some fashion, and then he’s deemed a ‘master’ so soon after starting. Admittedly, yes, I am a bit jealous. However, I would not change how I have learned because it has allowed me to dig deeper and understand more.”

You inhaled deeply, signaling the end of your monologue. You had not really meant to go that far with it, but it was too late now. Your words hung in the air as Loki studied you.

“What do you need assistance with?” He flashed you a grin.

You silently screamed with relief. “Okay, so there was a theory I was trying to teach yesterday.” Flipping open the textbook to the right page, you brought your notebook and pen to your lap. “The students just aren’t getting it.”

Loki leaned over the table to read the book. “Magical Exchange: The Equal Exchange Theory...” His eyebrows could have rocketed off his forehead with how surprised he was. “This is an elementary subject.”

“It is a 101 course,” you shrugged. “I just don’t know how to explain it better. I’ve not taught a class that had issues with this before. This particular group has proven... Difficult.”

“Have you attempted a more... Oh what do you mortals call it,” he hummed. “A more ‘hands on’ approach?”

You sighed and unconsciously tapped your pen on your notebook. “Yeah. I tried to improvise like that when the text did nothing. It just made things worse.”

“I see...” His lips drooped into a frown. “Perhaps a new perspective is required.”

“You read my mind,” you teased, winking at him. You still had not forgotten that first day. “So if you were teaching this, how would you go about it?”

Clearing his throat, he picked up the text book and lounged back on the couch. An anxious silence droned on before he finally spoke again.

“This text describes the various classifications of what is considered Equal Exchange, yet there is little on what does not qualify.”

Loki proceeded on his own mini-lecture about the experiments performed by both mortals and Asgardians, many of which ended in failure due to the lack of Equal Exchange. One ended up being about the Philosopher’s Stone, a topic you had already learned quite a bit about. You scribbled notes as fast as you could, filling up a good quarter of your notebook when he had finished.

You chewed on the end of your pen while looking over your notes. “This could work. Between these explanations and showing some examples, they might grasp what all it means.” Letting out a tired sigh, you looked up at him with full sincerity. “Thank you, Loki. I owe you one.”

He chuckled deeply, sending shivers down your spine. What was he up to?

“There is one favor I wish to ask of you in exchange.”

You blinked deftly. “And what might that be?”

Taking your free hand in his, he gently swiped his thumb across your knuckles. “I merely ask for a dance.”

“A. Dance?” That was not what you had expected.

“Yes. Stark is holding one of his... illustrious parties next Saturday.”

Oh crap. You had purposely forgotten about that. Parties were not normally your thing.

“R-right! I forgot...” you mumbled, swiping your hair behind your ear.

“All I ask is one dance. Would that be acceptable?”

You gazed into his eyes where a dabble of insecure hope hid. “I... Yes. That would be nice.”

Your face felt like it was on fire when he kissed your knuckles, whispering, “Excellent,” before he helped you to your feet and gathered your belongings.

Saturday seemed to arrive all too quickly. Anxiety pulsated through your veins most of the day. Why were you so nervous? It was just one dance.

You sucked in a breath as you took in your appearance in the mirror. The off-the-shoulder, malachite dress hugged your form just right until it flowed gracefully from your hips to your knees. A silver pendant and heels tied off the look. You looked... Good. Better than you had anticipated. Now if you could just calm yourself down.

All those people, people you did not know for the most part would be there, too. Tony always invited so many guests no one else knew. But you also wouldn’t be alone. The whole team was going to be there. You would not be alone. One party should be manageable.

A knock at your door tore you from your spiraling thoughts. With a half-hearted sigh, you meandered to the door and open it to find Wanda and Vision. Wanda must have sensed your distress. She took one look at you, told Vision she would meet him downstairs, gave him a chaste kiss and stepped into your room, closing the door behind her.

“I-I don’t know if I can do this, Wanda.” You sat on the edge of your bed, thoughts of nausea swimming in your head.

She said your name with such resolution, your gaze snapped up to hers. “You can do this.”

“I don’t-”

“Don’t start. One, you look gorgeous. Two, you’re a professor AND Avenger. You teach in auditoriums and fight bad guys for a living. This party should not be a problem.”

“Small auditoriums...” you mumbled, earning you a look.

“Three, Vision and I will stay nearby. If any weirdo tries anything with you again, we’ll be there.”

Because you needed to remember the one party where some drunk rando was getting too handsy, the one where you had trouble controlling your abilities because you did not and do not like crowds. Tony, Steve and Wanda had to extract you after kicking out the drunk moron. That was your last party.

“I don’t want to be the third whe-”

“Shush. I’m not done.” She waved you off. “And four, once you have your dance, you can get the hell out of there. Okay?” She smiled sympathetically.

You nodded and looked at the floor. Wanda took you by the shoulders and forced you to stand.

“Alright, now breathe with me. Ground and center. Breathe. Raise your shields. Breathe.”

Doing what you were told, you started to feel better, the deep breaths helping the most.

“Better?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Let’s get going. Remember, you can do this.” She guided you towards the door.

“Right... I can do this...”

I can’t do this...

You leaned on a wall out of the way, sipping on a light cocktail that you had hoped would keep you calm. It didn’t. Between the flashing lights, pounding music and the chaotic array of energies emanating off the guests just made you want to crawl in a hole and bury yourself.

Wanda and Vision were out of your sight but you could still sense them nearby. They’d be there in a blink of an eye if you needed them, but you didn’t want to ruin their fun. It also did not help that Loki was nowhere to be seen. At first, you thought he and Thor were getting ready, but that thought was thrown out when Thor arrived fashionably late alone. Maybe Loki decided the whole thing was a waste of time and backed out of coming. Yeah. That had to be it which meant you could bug out of here early.

“There you are, Sorceress.”

Never mind. Just as you had moved to the bar to set your glass down, Loki showed up behind you. You spun around, dress flowing out as you did. He looked taken aback with his cheeks slightly flushed. He muttered something under his breath but the music and chatter drowned him out.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

He just shook his head, smiling as he reached out a hand for you. “Would you care to join me on the balcony?”

Balcony?! Why didn’t you think about going out there? It would be so much quieter.

“I would like that very much.” You took his hand and let him lead you outside.

The balcony was so much better. The doors muffled the incessant beat of the club music along with the yelling guests. You took in a deep breath, taking the chance to glance at Loki and appreciate his look.

Yup. Still attractive in Midgardian clothing. His designer suit looked as though it was made only for him, the black color matching his curling hair that brushed past his shoulders. The green tie brought out his eyes and made them seem more saturated like an emerald. You definitely appreciated the new style.

“You’re staring, Darling,” he chuckled.

“Sorry. I’m so used to seeing you in your Asgardian garb,” you flushed. “T-the change is not unwelcome though. You look great!”

Great. Where were your words when you needed them most? And did he call you “Darling”?

“Thank you, my dear. Now, about that dance...”

That’s when you realized he was still holding your hand.

“What about the music?”

“I have something better planned than the noise Stark has chosen.”

He pulled you close, one hand encased yours while the other placed your free hand on his shoulder before snapping his fingers and keeping you close by the small of your back. A record player appeared playing Merry-Go-Round of Life.

“Shall we?”

You smiled and nodded, “Yes.”

Loki swayed with you along the length of the balcony, leading you into spins in time with the music. Neither of you had said a word since you started moving, but you did not need to. Everything was perfect. You felt like you were dancing on clouds amongst the stars. All of your anxiety had melted away. Needless to say, you were disappointed when the song ended.

“I do not suppose I would be able to convince you for another dance?”

Loki held your hands in his as he pulled back. He seemed just as disappointed as you.

“Well,” you mocked contemplation, “That wasn’t part of the original agreement.”

The soft grip on your hands loosened even more.

“But, I don’t see why I can’t make an exception, especially seeing how your explanations went over so well with the students. I haven’t thanked you for that part,” you smirked and with a golden flourish of your hand, changed the music on the record player.

Loki’s grin put the starlight to shame as he brought you back to him. As one song ended, one of you would switch it out to keep the music going.

Neither of you knew how long you were out there for. It had to have been more than a couple of hours since Tony was the one to break up your private party.

“Reindeer Games, Magic Hands! Pack it up! Party guests have already left!”

Both of you grimaced, hating your nicknames. Regardless, Loki led you back inside. Wanda and Vision had stayed throughout the party while you were on the balcony, and gave both of you these little knowing looks as you passed them. Ignoring them, Loki walked you to your room.

“Thank you, Loki. You made the night much more enjoyable,” you smiled brightly.

He smiled back, playing with the fingers of your hands. “I am happy to be of assistance, Sorceress.”

A moment of silence and you stepped forward, thinking of something a touch bold. “You know, if this were to become a regular occurrence, I might be persuaded to show up at Stark’s parties more often.”

A low chuckle reverberated in his chest. “That could be arranged.”

“I hope so.” You leaned on your toes, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, again.”

You slipped past your door so quickly you didn’t notice the lightly dusted blush on Loki’s face.

Today was not a good day. Scratch that. It was a terrible day. Some senior in Advanced Summoning got cocky and accidentally summoned a few large, irate creatures from the Fae Realm. With you being an Avenger and working for the school, it was no surprise you were chosen to handle the situation. Killing would have been easier, but you could not bring yourself to do it. It’s not their fault they were ripped from their home and dropped in an unfamiliar world. You were able to open a portal and send them back but not without sustaining a critical injury. You were barely able to close the portal before passing out from blood loss.

You woke up in the medical wing of the campus, a fog clouding your brain. You felt the dull pain in your side where one of the creatures had swiped its claws whenever you tried to move.

“Oh! Please lie still!” A healer came rushing over. “You don’t want to reopen the wound. We’ve done all we can to heal you without overloading your body.”

You just nodded and rested your head on the pillow. Looking at the window, you noticed how dark it was.

“What time is it?”

The healer looked at you nervously. “A little after 10PM.”

Groaning, you sank into the pillow more. “Do you know where my phone is? I need to make a call.”

The team knew your schedule, and they were going to flip, especially Loki. You two had grown attached to each other since the start of your balcony dances (there had been at least six so far). The status of your relationship was in limbo, somewhere between friends and romantic partners. Neither of you seemed to know which way to go.

The healer left the room momentarily before rushing back in. Handing you your phone, she warned, “Now, your phone started going off non-stop since about six this evening. We had to answer just to see if it was important and if they could wait until you called back. Th-the man on the other end. He was.. Not. Pleased. He started demanding to know where you were...”

“I understand,” you cut her off softly. “If I could get some privacy please, I will call him.”

She nodded and headed to the door.

“And whatever else he said, don’t worry about it. I’ll make sure he behaves.”

The healer pursed her lips and closed the door behind her. What the hell did he say to her?

You picked Loki’s contact in your phone. He answered in barely one ring, calling out your name. “Norns, are you alright?! Where are you? What happened?”

“Loki, I’m fine. I’m still on campus. There was a little mishap that I had to take care of. Got a little banged up in the process, but everything is okay.” You added that last part quickly.

“A little mishap? You should have returned hours ago. Please, allow me to bring you home.”

“Loki, the school only allows faculty members and students on campus. The wards make sure of that. And despite the constant demands, even Fury and Strange have not been granted access. They don’t even know where to look. Besides, you’re on lockdown. Remember?” You tried to reason with him, but knew he would not give up so easily.

He pleaded your name. Lately, he almost always stuck to pet names for you, only using your name when he was truly upset. “Please... I need to know that you are in good health.”

“I am, Loki. I will more than likely be back at the Tower in the morning.”

“Not tonight?” His pout was clear even over the phone.

“It’s late and I doubt the healers would let me check myself out at this hour.”

“I- Alright.” The defeated tone in his voice made your heart break.

“I’ll call you in the morning, okay?”

“Please...”

“Goodnight, Loki.”

“Goodnight.”

As you pulled the phone away to hang up, you heard him call your name.

“Yes?”

“I... I will see you tomorrow.”

You hummed with a smile. “See you tomorrow.”

It was early morning when you finally left the campus. Loki didn’t answer his phone, so you left him a voicemail instead, fairly sure he knew how to access it. Cell phones still were not his strong suit, but he was getting better.

Stepping through the Tower doors, you were greeted by Happy who gave you the world’s most gentle bear hug. He had Friday let the others know you were headed up.

“By the way,” he yelled to you as you stepped in the elevator. “Loki was up all night worrying about you. You should go talk to him.” He winked at you.

You just shook your head as the elevator doors. When they reopened at the common room floor, you were greeted with Wanda tackling you before she dragged you out.

“Loki told us something went down at the University. What happened?!”

She pulled you into the common room to one of the sofas.

“Some moron was trying to impress a girl in Advanced Summoning. Brought in some undocumented creatures from the Fae Realm.”

“Of course... Now you were hurt? Where?” She started looking you over.

You lifted your shirt just enough to show the heavy bruising on your side. “The healers did a decent patch up. Just have to deal with this for a couple days, and then I’m good.”

“I wish I could help, but healing is not my forte.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m fine,” you smiled reassuringly, letting your shirt fall.

“Fine is not how you would have been classified yesterday,” a low voice came from behind the couch, startling you.

“L-Loki! I thought I had told you not to do that!” You clutched your chest, taking a deep breath.

“Darling, may I speak with you? Alone.” Loki gestured for you to follow him.

You squeezed Wanda’s hand apologetically. “I’ll come find you later.”

Loki led you out, down the hall and into the library. He didn’t say a word until he sat you down on the couch next to him, gaze on his lap.

“Loki... I-”

“Dove, what were you thinking taking on those beasts on your own?” He clutched your hands tightly.

“I didn’t have much of a choice. I’m one of the few stateside who is trained in battle magic,” you pleaded.

He was upset. It was obvious. Your heart shattered with how he looked at you, fear and worry melded into one.

“You could have called for assistance.”

“Loki, we’ve been over this-”

“Would they not have made an exception with their students in danger.” It was a statement. He was right about that.

“If there were time, yes. They needed to be dealt with immediately.” You tore your hands from his grasp and cupped his face for him to really look you in the eyes. “Loki. Everything turned out alright. I’m still here, and I’m okay.”

“And yet you almost were not.” His voice was so quiet, you barely heard him. “I... I do not...”

You stroked his cheeks with your thumbs, encouraging him to go on. He pulled one hand away to hold while leaning into the other.

“Just be more careful from now on. Please.”

“Of course.”

“Promise me.” He squeezed your hand.

“I will. But first.” You took your hand from his face. “Finish what you were saying.”

He froze. “I am not sure what you mean.”

“You cut yourself off three times within twenty-four hours. You always finish your sentences. Now. What were you going to say?”

He still was not used to being caught, his initial confusion evident in his eyes which then darted about the room nervously. You sighed, and with a golden flourish of your hand, the library doors shut and locked.

“There. No one to walk in and disturb us or overhear.”

Loki was silent. He stared at your hand that was intertwined with his, then met your eyes.

“I do not know what I would do without you,” he whispered, bringing you into his arms in one fluid motion, your head tucked under his chin.

The scent of cedar and sage filled your senses as you returned the embrace and carded your fingers through his hair.

“Well, that’s not something you need to think about. I’m not going anywhere,” you responded softly. “Promise.”

He hugged you close, pulling you into his lap. His chest rose with a deep breath before he kissed the top of your head.

#loki x reader #loki marvel #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x you #marvel #marvel avengers #the avengers #s.h.i.e.l.d.#loki imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #loki fanfic #loki fanfiction #loki friggason #loki oneshot #wanda maximov #wanda #wanda marvel

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solarsleepless · 3 years ago

Note

Hello good sir.

Please rant to me about avian hybrid/ Lion hybrid/ enderman hybrid c!Niki headcanons and au's. I NEED MORE of your c!niki banter cs I have already read your fics 3times over and over again.

SHJHJSHJSHJSHJSH GIVE ME GENDER EUPHORIA AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE

i'll give some hcs for each

Avian Niki

niki is either a crow hybrid or an angel hybrid. on one hand crow niki is funny to me on the other hand badass angel

her feathers, ironically, stay white during her 'villain' arc because yaknow symbolism

when she was going out with puffy, she'd let puffy preen them

because she was the only other winged hybrid, quackity trusted her to preen his own wings

in return he preened hers while she was in jail

she used to fly with puffy because love <3

during her isolation arc, she takes out feathers as an unhealthy coping mechanism, reasoning to herself that there's no need to preen if she doesn't have any feathers left (yes it's morbid)

eventually tho she just. doesnt even wear clothes for her wings

she just hides them underneath, which is of course VERY uncomfortable

they get worse and worse and ache more and more and she wants to fly so badly but she can't unless she preens them and she can't because she just can't!

when she joins the syndicate, the first thing phil says during their second meeting is: "hey niki didn't you have wings? what happened to them?"

his voice is tinged with sympathy; he knows what it's like to not be able to fly

she freezes, just stops moving, then starts to cry

phil is worried he's done something wrong, but then she reveals that she's kept her wings hidden under wil's coat and cloak all that time (note the symbolism)

he immediately is like "what the FUCK" when he sees them because there are feathers falling when it's not even shedding season yet?? also there are a few in places they shouldn't be at all? there are some fucking missing?????

long story short it takes multiple hours to get them back in place

niki passes out during it because it's been so long since she hasn't been in constant pain

when she wakes up, phil insists on keeping her there to preen her wings

also the syndicate has a long discussion about what happened and they promise each other and themselves to help her get better

Lion Hybrid Niki

she purrs end tweet

no but seriously this girl will purr to end and back

she purrs louder than ranboo which is SAYING something

she loves the scritchy scratches behind the ears. like REALLY loves 'em. she'll just- once you give her scritches she just. surrenders and leans into it. her purring sounds like a fucking jet plane when she gets the scritchies

she can roar, she only uses it to intimidate people tho

her self-worth is just. deeper than bedrock. she has no self-worth

she and puffy are working on it but she still... needs help

sometimes she gets phantom pain from her declawed fingers. she's found out it hurts less when she massages it, but she can't actually reach it, so she asks puffy to do it, and puffy can't help but feel guilty each time she sees the stumps

also niki hates getting her nails trimmed. like HATES it. even if she doesn't want them growing as long as they did before, the idea of something sharp near her fingers after what happened just makes her blanch

eventually tho she does have to do it

she hugs puffy while ant cuts her nails, and puffy whispers sweet, reassuring comments to her.

"you're doing so good. i'm so proud of you" and "we're almost there. you okay? we're gonna get through this."

sometimes tho niki just.. can't handle it. but she doesn't want to disappoint puffy either so she tries to just get through it anyways.

puffy notices her discomfort and asks her if she wants to stop. niki hesitates before nodding.

"niki, you being comfortable is so much more important than this. we can do it tomorrow, okay?"

Enderman Hybrid Niki

makes littol enderman noises. sometimes when she's stressed, sometimes just idly, sometimes when she's happy!

she has a tail because how can i not give her one

also she has pawsies and hands like magpiebur by @/nightferns (BECAUSE I LOVE THE WAY THEY DRAW WILBUR'S PAWWWS)

can withstand water a little better than ranboo, being more human than him

it still burns though

she just has higher pain tolerance lul

also can touch snow unlike ranboo because she's half human, half enderman

her ears and tail twitch whenever she's anxious

didn't really like eye contact, and the l'manbergians respected that (esp eret who didnt like people staring at their eyes either) until schlatt came along and basically forced it, so she kinda forced herself to do it from then on

unlike ranboo however, she doesnt go into enderwalk. she actually hasn't got an enderwalk because ranboo got it from nervous habit and it 'evolved' from there (my hc anyway), she instead literally gets hurt

like it hurts her to make eye contact

ranboo sees that she makes eye contact despite being an enderman hybrid and is like: "...HOW???"

she's just like "oh i force myself to do it lul. cause everyone expects me to anyways. it hurts after a while but its fine"

he just goes completely silent after that, then tells phil and techno at the syndicate meeting (while niki is admiring steve) not to hold eye contact w/niki because it hurts her

techno: "HEHH??? she seemed fine when i visited her!!" ranboo: "yeah she's been hiding it this whole time because society expects her to do it." techno, an adhd fella: "..phil where are the adoption papers-"

niki's confused by the end. why did nobody look at her? why did nobody maintain eye contact with her??? did they not like her?

but at the end phil explains that they thought that because she was an enderman hybrid she wouldn't like it (they're lying to not throw ranboo under the bus)

niki just stares, then starts to cry because holy Shit they are so nice

"nIKI NO YOU'RE BURNING-"

used to bite her tail as a way of self-harm. techno was VERY concerned when he saw the bite marks, but niki just lied and said that it was a dog attack

he knows for a fact it wasn't a dog because he's been bitten and his furniture has bites and it didnt look like that

more like that One Time when Ranboo bit him while he was in his enderwalk state

cue him connecting the dots and being like "...WAIT"

niki also really likes blocks. like we all know her city is weird in some parts because it's built with different blocks, signifying niki's jumbled up mind while planning to kill tommy. but in the enderman hybrid niki hc, its also partly because blocks feel nice and she wanted to feel different ones

her tail curls around the legs of people she likes. so far, it's gone around: wilbur, tommy n tubbo (those two specifically during pogtopia), fundy, eret, puffy and the rest of the syndicate

whenever puffy made her flustered she'd blush either green or pink. no inbetween. puffy was very confused and thought niki was disgusted by her at first and was all :(( before niki explained her wack biology

that's all i got for now im afraid!

#fei tag #ask #niki nihachu #niki nihachu headcanons #nihachu headcanons #dsmp headcanons #ranboo #philza #techno #the syndicate #captain puffy #puffychu

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runtedfiction · 3 years ago

Text

nicer

day 1: facade @zelinkweek2021

ao3

* * *

Years later, when Link faces the castle’s crumbling walls, he thinks about the Princess.

* * *

The day King Rhoam announces this year’s Harvest Festival is also the day his subjects know they're doomed. Officially, it’s supposed to be a normal holiday. Unofficially, the language in the announcement—“the last celebration before the fight against Calamity Ganon”, “the last time the palace will be open to Castletown until the fight is over”—convinces everyone that they’re partying in the face of the apocalypse.

“They have no faith in me,” Zelda says, putting down her pen. “Ganon is brewing deep beneath the castle. Everyone knows it. Everyone knows I can’t stop it. This is their last chance to let loose before all hell breaks loose.”

Impa frowns and hands her the final page of raw Guardian data to clean. “You're too hard on yourself. You still have time.”

“I just have Mount Lanayru next week.” She focuses on the Silent Princess above her desk. It's wilting. “Do you think I’ll be wise enough? Maybe Hylia will smite me right then and there for being an idiot.”

“Princess!”

“I know, I know.”

* * *

They wrap up that afternoon’s study, an incredibly useful session in quantifying the powers of the Guardians, to get ready for the ball.

Zelda’s dress is her signature blue, but a bit more fluid and feminine than the one she normally wears. Made for dancing and a summer night.

“Collarbones,” Impa notes, and Zelda laughs. “A little off the shoulder as well! And the subtle constellation pattern in the tulle--how stunning!”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t design it.”

“Guilty.”

Impa’s dress, an even deeper blue, is similarly gorgeous. It’s long sleeved, form fitting, and silky.

“Impa, I just want to say—” Zelda pauses, looking at their reflections in the mirror. When will they ever look this nice again? “Thank you for being my friend.”

Impa' smiles. “Of course. And Princess—if I may.”

“Yes?”

“With all your talk of the world ending, of doom coming.” Her voice gets small. “Do you think it would be worth telling him?”

Zelda stiffens. She thinks of him somewhere in the castle, dressed in his best uniform, walking to find her.

She lies. “No.”

Three quiet, efficient raps sound against her door. Zelda’s heart lurches.

* * *

In the hot, overcrowded ballroom, she can’t stop wondering if he thinks she looks pretty.

There are important people here she needs to talk to: researchers from the Royal Ancient Tech Lab, religious leaders, captains of industry, and so on. She finds her father and tries to reach some common ground on the one night they aren’t preparing for Evil Incarnate. (She fails.) She should find the court poet and give him the dance he’s been writing about for the past month.

But all she wants is for Link to look at her.

He’s indeed in his best uniform. His gloves and boots are blindingly white; his collar sits high and stiff against his neck. He’s uncommonly handsome, and the uniform emphasizes it. When someone pulls him in to dance (technically he should be keeping watch, but that someone really insists), she hates the jealousy that blooms in her chest and takes the hand of the poet. When she twirls, when she makes conversation, when she curtsies--she tries to see it all from Link’s perspective, if he can even find her in the crowd.

“Princess, are you feeling alright?”

“Oh.”

The poet looks at her in the way that a puppy looks at its master. The neediness satisfies and repulses her.

“Yes,” she says, smiling quickly. “Thank you for asking. How are you?”

“Wonderful. I was sitting in the courtyard the other day and...”

It’s easy to tune him out and appear to be interested with the right amount of “mhmm” and “oh?” and eye contact. But every time he twirls her around, she tries to spot the top of a Royal Guard cap in the crowd.

She knows she’s being stupid. Even in the incredibly unlikely scenario where Link’s interested, what could they do? Given that her powers aren’t working, there’s only a sixty percent chance they’ll get through the Calamity. She thinks back to what Impa said earlier. Something about letting him know in the face of impending doom.

(Maybe it doesn’t make sense to do something that would possibly be useless, a tiny voice in the back of her head says. But on the flip side, it’s also possible that nothing will matter soon, so why not tell him?)

She scowls and lets the poet dip her far too low for common courtesy.

* * *

Link is definitely lost in the crowd now. The next song requires that they rotate between multiple partners, and she can’t spot him anywhere. There’s no way that he’d be looking at her anyway, because why would he? He’s the chosen one, kind and strong and handsome and blessed. She’s the failed reincarnation, mean and headstrong and cursed.

If (when) the world ends, it’ll be on her.

Zelda admits to herself, swaying in the arms of someone else who doesn’t matter, that because the world has an uncomfortably high probability of ending, it follows that maybe, possibly, probably it makes sense for her to say something.

A sense of urgency unfurls in the pit of her stomach. Where is he?

* * *

She tries to find him. She doesn’t know what she’d do--ask for a dance? Strike up a conversation? Maybe it's the heat getting to her, but it worries her that she's lost him. She walks the length of the ballroom and comes up with nothing.

There’s no way she could summon him, but…

She grabs a glass of water and walks out the ballroom to the nearest balcony.

Except in this very specific circumstance, it’s infuriating how easy it is for him to find her. Even when she doesn't want to be found, even when she’s actively running away (and nearly dying in the process), there he is. The knowledge that he’s almost always aware of her presence burns.

“Hello,” she says after a respectable amount of time.

He steps out behind her. Unfortunately, the moonlight’s softness makes him look angelic. “Hi.”

Zelda very rarely has no plan. She’s the one always bossing him around, deciding where they’ll go next and how they’ll get there and what they’ll do. She’s at a loss for words right now.

“Ah--hm.” A cooling night breeze passes by. “Are you--are you enjoying the festival?”

“Yes?” He looks confused. And hot, her unhelpful brain adds. Very hot. “Are you?”

“Yes. It’s quite warm inside, but I enjoy the music and the dancing.”

“The band is nice.”

She agrees and scrambles to find another conversation topic. Damn it. Still no plan. Think, think.

“Uh--” he starts the same time she asks, “Are you ready for Mount Lanayru next week?”

He nods, and she hates how she made the conversation about work. But he looks more confident now--talking about work is easier than trying to have whatever kind of conversation she had in mind. “Yeah. I read about the region and it seems relatively safe. We might see Naydra too.”

“That would be incredible,” she says. “I’d love to capture it on the Slate.”

He nods again. A silence passes (a horribly awkward one that eats at her) before she asks: “What were you going to say before I interrupted you?”

“Oh yes.” Link clears his throat, and the fact that he looks a bit nervous sends her heart pounding. Can he tell what her subconscious is trying to do? “I’ve been meaning to ask (oh God, oh God, what has he been meaning to ask)--are you avoiding me?”

She blinks. “What?”

He won’t make eye contact with her. Triforce of courage, my ass. “Are you avoiding me?”

“No?” She’s stunned. Avoiding? All she’s been doing for the past week is pining!

“But, I feel like.” He pauses to look at her briefly. Again, his nerves kick off her own. “Ever since we got back from the desert, you haven’t really talked to me.”

She needs to think. A week ago, what happened?

They were at the Kara Kara Bazaar, and she nearly died because she intentionally (stupidly) lost him. She relives the feeling of it now--the panic that came with facing certain death when she realized it wasn’t Link following her, but the Yiga, then the shock when he appeared out of thin air wielding the sword. His back, so strong and sure. His concern as he helped her get up afterwards.

How once she could process what happened, something kicked in her chest, and everything was so obvious so suddenly.

Then getting back from the desert, what did she do? She wrote a diary entry, spent a sleepless night deciding she had feelings for him that she didn’t want to name, and tried as hard as possible to conceal them. The pining was unbearable, and--oh. Looking at him made her face burn, so she turned away. She never knew what to say around him, so she chose to say nothing at all.

Perhaps she approached her yearning by offsetting it with its opposite.

They really haven’t spoken. Zelda shakes her head, and mentally kicks herself. How can someone like you back if you don’t even talk to them? “I promise, I’m not trying to avoid you.”

He furrows his brow a little. Cute. Unfair. “Really?”

“Really.”

“Ok. If you do--if you ever need more space, let me know.” He smiles a little. “I do have to follow you, but I can do it farther away or something.”

She smiles back. Please always follow me. “Thanks. No need.”

“Alright,” he says. He glances at her arms.“Do you want to go back inside? It’s a bit cold. You’re getting goosebumps.”

She didn’t even notice. An idea is forming in her mind, bright and hot and something that needs to rush out right now or she’s going to overthink it to death.

“Going back inside sounds good. When we do, would you--would you like to dance with me?”

The question leaves so quickly that she’s not too sure if he understood it. She holds her breath; she might throw up.

“Sure,” he says, and the disappointment that she expected to punch her gut doesn’t come; a flood of something wonderful washes over her instead. Sure is yes, her mind sings. “How about I find you before the last song? I’ve been doing a bad job of keeping watch.”

“Sure,” she echoes. Hopefully her excitement isn’t too obvious when she turns back and nearly runs into the ballroom.

* * *

When the band announces the last song of the night, Zelda lets go of the poet and steps back immediately.

“My Princess,” he says, and the normal repulsion she would feel turns into joy when she spots a navy blue cap making its way through the crowd. “I would be honored to have your final dance, if you would have me.”

“Another time,” she says, already turning to pick up her skirt and mosey her way through the last group of people separating her from a flash of sandy blonde hair. “Thank you though!”

She doesn’t wait for the poet’s response because the crowd is gone and Link is right in front of her, handsome and smiling slightly. Her heart is at a million miles a minute when she drops her skirt and steps forward to place her hand in his.

This isn’t like her. He must think she’s acting so strange. Either that, or it’s obvious just from looking at her what she’s thinking. It’s a frenzied array of thoughts, ranging from the obvious (handsome, handsome, smells so good?, handsome, kind eyes) and the embarrassing (The smallest, least repressed part of me has dreamed about this all week.)

The music starts and swells and she’s still dreaming. His hand on her back is firm. Thanks to the design of the dress, she can feel his glove pressing into her. She wonders if he can feel the heat of her skin.

“How are you doing?” he asks when they fall into a rhythm, and she smiles too fast, idiot, calm down.

“Great, how are you?”

“Good,” he says, and they spin. He smiles back. “Good to know you’re not avoiding me.”

“Of course not.” Stupid, you avoided him!

He dips her a perfectly appropriate amount.

She feels brave. It’s the adrenaline getting to her, because the rational part of her can’t stop (giddily) telling her that she’s dumb when she asks, “Why would you think that I'd avoid you?”

“Hm.” He looks away to consider the question. The tips of his eyelashes catch the chandelier light. “I thought that maybe last week was a bit too much.”

She thinks about how warm his hand was when he helped her get up after saving her life. “It wasn’t.”

“It’s ok if it was.”

“No, no, you’re too kind.”

Link clears his throat. “So you’re not avoiding me because I kept trying to follow you through the bazaar when you clearly didn’t want me to?”

She laughs. “No, it’s also incredibly stupid that I tried to lose you. Besides, what would’ve happened if you hadn’t?”

Link clears his throat.

She chooses to change the subject by asking an easy “What did you make for dinner tonight?” in an attempt to soak up the final minutes she has in his arms. He starts talking about mushroom risotto, and she can’t stop smiling.

* * *

At the end of the night, when he escorts her to her room, it’s late enough that silence is acceptable.

She’s decided that she needs to do something, but she doesn’t know what. A hug would be different, but too strange. I like you is simple, but too plain. Thinking about you makes my heart soft is embarrassing. I know I’ve been an incorrigible bitch but now my walls are down and I like you is too honest.

She turns around when they reach her doors.

“Tonight was fun,” she says.

He smiles. Zelda knows romance books don’t lie when her heart jumps at the sight of it. “It was.”

This is the moment. She takes a deep breath as quietly as she can. She has that nauseous feeling again. If nothing matters, tell him. Everyone knows the apocalypse is coming.

“Hey, listen,” he says right when she opens her mouth. He pauses to look at her. If she thought he looked nervous earlier when he asked her if she was avoiding him, it’s nothing compared to now. He does a visible gulp, and—

“I think I have feelings for you.”

She blinks. What?

“And I understand if you don’t feel the same way,” he continues, tense and fast, looking right at her, “especially in light of everything going on right now. But I just had to put that out there.”

What?!

She closes her eyes--what is happening right now--and when she opens them he’s still there. This isn’t a dream.

Holy fuck. “Really?”

He nods. “Really.”

“Huh,” she says. He beat her to it. “Huh.”

“Huh?”

She laughs. He beat her to it, and now all she has to do is the easiest thing in the world.

“I think I have feelings for you too,” she says. It’s so dark now she can’t see the blue of his eyes, but she can imagine it easily.

He’s surprised. “Really?”

“Really. In fact, I was meaning to tell you just now.”

“Really?”

She laughs. “Really.”

She smiles and takes his hand. He stiffens at first, then relaxes as she threads her fingers through his.

“Oh, actually, here, let me—” He lets go. Disappointment hits her briefly before she sees that he’s taking off his glove. Some of his scars are alabaster in the moonlight. He has so many.

(She wants to kiss all of them.)

His hand is warm and rough and lovely when he slips it back into hers.

“This feels nicer,” he says, and his voice is almost shy.

There are a million things she wants to say--what are we going to do if I end the world, what are we going to do if you save the world, how long have you known for, Hylia is going to smite both of us for being fools--but she settles on squeezing his hand instead. He squeezes back.

“Yes,” she agrees. Very gently, she cups his cheek with her other hand and leans in. He’s closed his eyes already. “Much nicer.”

#zelink week 2021 #zelink #zelink fanfiction

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startanewdream · 3 years ago

Text

Hyacinth

Summary: Sirius takes some time to fill his godfather duties — teaching Harry how to ride a motorbike.

Part of Eyes Glistening (Jily Lives AU). It ties with Hope, but you don't need to read it first to enjoy this moment between Harry and Sirius.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The street is quiet, a summer afternoon in which everyone must have decided it’s too hot to stay outside, but Sirius doesn’t breathe easily until he opens the small gate and then he is finally inside the Potter’s estate, safe under their love protection, though its days are almost over. He tries not to let this thought dismay him.

He walks towards the house, but he pauses, his attention diverted. Despite the heat, Harry is standing still near the broom shed, watching the sky thoughtfully, his hands inside the pocket of his jeans.

Alone and brooding, never a good sign.

He sighs, moving direction towards his godson. He has seen that quiet stubborn resolution on Harry’s face ever since he met him after Dumbledore’s funeral; it was a soldier’s face, a soldier with a duty that was hinted by Harry’s secret meetings with Dumbledore—the most secretive man Sirius had ever known—, and from all Sirius knows about Harry and James, that didn’t bid well.

He had a feeling Harry would leave. He was sure that James would hate it.

Sirius walks quietly, stopping a few steps behind Harry.

‘So, how it went?’

Harry jumps under the sound of his voice, turning around. Sirius holds back a frown; Harry shouldn’t be caught so off guard—he may be safe at the moment, but soon, in the real world, he will need better reactions and not trust anyone. This thought doesn’t comfort him.

‘What?’

‘You finally told James, didn’t you?’

Harry squints, uncomfortable. ‘Dad said anything you?’

‘No, I just needed to come by—I still have a few repairs to do in my motorbike.’

‘Oh.’ Harry’s gaze strays to the broom shed. ‘Don’t mind me.’

Sirius watches him for a few seconds before nodding. It’s still hot and he had planned to do this later, but he has a feeling that now it might be the best time—and he knows that pushing Harry to talk before he is ready never works. So he goes to take his motorbike, opting to work in the open instead of the broom shed. Harry hasn’t moved when he comes back, as Sirius imagined he wouldn’t, so Sirius just kneels to check the engine, careful to let the toolbox closer to Harry.

‘Pass me a screwdriver, will you?’ he asks Harry, not taking his gaze off the engine.

It’s been a while since he rode his motorbike, Sirius notes shamefully, so he needs to check if all the electrical parts of the motor are okay. It’s a tiresome job that he could ask a real mechanic to do, but he enjoys the manual work anyway, and Harry seems to relax some of his tension as he watches Sirius working, helping him whenever Sirius asks him—things that Sirius could do alone, but he understands that Harry likes to feel helpful.

‘I am leaving,’ Harry says quietly at some point, and Sirius takes care to not let any emotion show in his face.

‘I thought so,’ he says. All those meetings with Dumbledore seemed too much as some sort of passing the torch, though Sirius doubts that Dumbledore had planned for things to go sour so quickly. ‘When?’

‘As soon as I am of age.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

Harry is watching him, and Sirius knows he is just looking for some sort of disapproval—though he doesn’t know what Harry would do if he found it. That boy is Lily’s son too much not to be stubborn and he would go anyway. Well, Harry does like to suffer.

‘Dad is mad at me. I think… I think I’m letting him down somehow.’

And there is it, the reason why Harry was staring sadly at the sky, brooding under the sun as if it could atone for his sins somehow. He sees the apprehension in his godson’s green eyes, and Sirius is suddenly aware—though he shouldn’t be surprised—how apart from his eyes, Harry looks a lot like James.

‘You never disappoint James,’ Sirius tells him reasonably. ‘He is just too worried. You know him.’

‘I feel like… like if I leave him, he won’t ever understand. He’ll hate me for doing it.’

‘Hating you for doing the right thing? That can’t be.’

‘You didn’t see him. He said… he said if I cared, I wouldn’t leave anyone.’

‘Do you?’ Sirius asks softly. ‘Do you care?’

Harry looks at his house with a heavy sigh. ‘Too much.’

‘Then he will understand. You’ll be of age, Harry, and you’ve been making decisions—good even if questionable some times—for some time now.’

‘I just want… I want it over.’

‘That’s all we want.’ Sirius pauses for a moment. ‘Are you sure you’re the only one who can do this?’

Harry doesn’t hesitate this time. ‘It has to be me. But I won’t be alone.’

‘Ron and Hermione?’ Sirius guesses, smiling a little when Harry nods. He is a firm believer that with friends by his side, Harry can do anything. ‘Ginny?’

Harry sighs. ‘No, we—I broke up with her.’

‘What?’ Sirius asks, confused, but the desolation in Harry’s face is enough to show him all he needs to do about this news. ‘For her own good?’

Harry kicks a stone in the ground, his head lowered. ‘I couldn’t put her in danger and… being near me is a hazard. It’s enough I’m already putting you and Mum and Dad in so much trouble—’

‘You know we would still be even if you didn’t exist, right? In fact, we joined the Order about two years before you were even born, kid.’

Harry shrugs, clearly not agreeing with him. Sirius rolls his eyes; Harry enjoys saving people too much not to feel guilty for anything that happens, even when is only remotely connected to it.

‘If you wanna blame someone, blame Voldemort, not you,’ Sirius says, and he stands up to finish a few protective spells on the motorbike.

As he casts them, blue light shining from his wand, it occurs to Sirius that Harry will need a quick course on Defensive Spells. He already knows quite a few, always having a knack for them, and Sirius is familiar with how much Harry loves his Expelliarmus—he supposes that a wandless enemy doesn’t provide much danger—, but Harry will need to improve his list if he is to be safe during whatever he will be doing.

He thinks of a few books he has at home that helped him in his early years of the Auror training, and he is sure that he can ask Moony to come and help them with training.

Away from James’ eyes, that’s it. Sirius enjoys not being hexed by his best friend.

But Harry’s birthday is still a few weeks away and, right now, Sirius doesn’t want to give Harry homework.

‘Why are you fixing your motorbike?’ Harry asks.

‘I got the feeling it might be useful. The Order has been discussing how to get you safely away from here, you know.’ Harry frowns heavily, so Sirius rushes to add in a teasing voice: ‘I thought of suggesting to hide you inside the trunk and be done with it. Death Eaters would never guess.’

Harry laughs. ‘I don’t think I’d fit.’

‘No, we’d need to transform you into something. Too bad you never felt an attraction to turn into an animagus, if you were a hedgehog it would be easier.’

‘Why a hedgehog?’

‘They are cute. And your hair does make you look like one.’

‘Hey!’ Harry’s indignation is cut by the grin on his lips. He runs his hand through his hair in a gesture that reminds Sirius of James more than ever. ‘It’s my charm.’

‘Oh, I’d have my doubts, but then Lily did marry and procreate with your father, so what do I know?’ Sirius tosses a helmet to Harry. ‘Here, put it on.’

‘To hide my hair?’

‘No, silly, because you need a helmet to ride.’

‘Ride?’

There is a bewildered expression on Harry’s face. Sirius smiles, more certain than ever of his idea. ‘Yeah, I've never taught you how to ride a motorbike, have I? Lousy godfather I am.’

‘You’re not,’ Harry says at once, distracted. He puts on the helmet. ‘Why didn’t you ever teach me before?’

‘Lily deemed too unsafe—a little hypocrite if you ask me, brooms are much more dangerous’

Harry doesn’t look as if he agrees on that one—that boy was way too influenced by James about brooms—but he seems excited enough.

‘Now what?’

‘Now pay attention. If you fall, your mother is gonna kill me.’

Harry looks amused with Sirius' concern.

Sirius shows him how to operate the motorbike, telling him to be careful with the brake and the acceleration and to not mix the gear shifter with them. Then he helps Harry get on the bike.

‘By the left side,’ he guides, and Harry looks somehow younger as he sits on the motorbike. Sirius had a sudden vision of himself holding a Harry who wasn’t even two yet as they flew through the night.

Merlin, the time has flown. Near seventeen already and ready to kick Voldemort's arse.

‘Keep your feet on the ground to get used to. Good?’ Harry nods. ‘Okay, now try to feel the clutch.’ After several minutes, in which Sirius makes Harry repeat over and over how every part works, he picks his key. ‘I’ll start the engine now, okay?’

Harry acquiesces; his eyes are shining, overjoyed. Sirius makes sure the bike is into neutral, then indicates the “start” button for Harry.

‘Slowly let the clutch out—keep your feet on the ground, it will give you more support.’

Harry nods once more, concentrated, his attention focused on releasing the clutch—and then his grip slips and the motorbike yanks forward too quickly. Sirius jumps to hold them.

‘Hey, hey, it happens!’ he says. Harry looks only sheepishly, not very much concerned for his health. Of course not, Sirius thinks. The boy is ready to face Voldemort, what’s a bike? ‘You stalled the engine because you let it go too fast. Try again.’

He does; this time his hand leaves the clutch in the right timing, and the motorbike wrenches him forward. Harry lets out a laugh—one of those carefree sounds that Sirius has been hearing less and less lately—at the same time as Sirius turns into a dog to chase him.

The Potter estate is vast, an enormous field that goes into the woods, and it takes several minutes until Harry finally steps on the brake, having made a huge round back to the broom shed. Sirius is glad and relieved to realize Harry remembered to use the brake over the throttle.

Sirius is out of breath—age comes with problems, though he wouldn’t admit it out loud—when he helps Harry down the kickstand so he can get off the bike. Harry immediately crashes into the ground, laying over the grass with a relaxed expression as he takes out his helmet.

‘This was so much fun!’ he admits. ‘Can I fly next time?’

‘One step at a time, kid. When you are good on the ground, we’ll try for the skies.’

‘Spoilsport,’ Harry complains without any real malice in his voice. ‘Thanks, Sirius.’

‘No problem, kid.’ Sirius sits next to him. ‘Just wanted to share Hyacinth with you.’

He lifts his eyebrows. ‘Hyacinth? Your bike has a name?’

‘All the good rides should have one. Don’t mock Hyacinth.’

Harry shakes his head, amusement all over his face as he closes his eyes. He puts his arms around his head for support, so Sirius does his godfather duty once more. He turns into Padfoot, laying next to Harry to offer him a good fluffy pillow.

#Sirius and Harry #Sirius Lives #Jily Lives AU #godfather/godson moment #I have no knowledge of bikes #so please assume that Sirius taught him off-screen #I wrote this as a comfort to me and I hope it gives you some too

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dunstory · 3 years ago

Text

Yellow

Pairing: Josh Dun x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, Panic Attack, Fluff

A/N: sooo, this is my first writing ever! all of this came from a dream i had last may, so i thought i could turn this into an imagine. also, there is a lot of lowercases because im to lazy to correct… sorry!! hope yall enjoy, feedback is appreciated!!

gif is not mine!

yellow, white and red lights came from everywhere. it was happening, the first twenty one pilots convention ever. there were some people with their yellow tapes and bandanas, some with their red beanies and white glasses, even some people cosplaying as the bishops.

everything looked great. unfortunately, you weren't able to stay with josh in the backstage because him and tyler had a lot of interviews to attend and stuff. so you had the chance to explore the convention as yourself. as a clikkie that you first were, not just as Josh Dun's girlfriend. of course, some people recognized you and asked for pictures, which you happily accepted.

you spent most of your time at the stand where the clikkies were playing their tøp covers. you were amazed by their talent and passion, it was just fascinating. you even got yourself to play heavydirtysoul on the drums with another dude, you never felt so cool.

and then it was time. their special concert was about to start. As you arrived to the area, the majority of the fans that were already there recognized you and insisted for you to stay in the front row. at first everything was great, until you actually went to your saved place and started hearing some comments about you.

"she's just not it."

"she doesn't belong here."

"i don't claim her."

"josh deserves WAY better than this."

"she's a whore. she only wants his money."

to say that you're insecure is an understatement, but you could deal with it occasionally, josh knew everything about it and was always there for you.

except for now.

all the overheard voices ignited a bad feeling that you forgot you ever had. it was it. 3 minutes before your boyfriend concert, and you were about to have a panic attack. you were glad that there were chairs for everyone, so you sat and breathed deeply and slowly, as you always practiced. you thought you were going to be ok, until a girl a few rows behind you yelled:

"look how excited she is for her boyfriend's concert!oh my god. she's the only one seated."

you were about to say something back until someone else yelled

"that bitch must be pregnant! she just wanted his baby so he could give her all his money, i am sure."

dear. lord.

"why didn't I just stay home" played repeatedly in your head. but you had to focus on josh, after all, you were there for him.

and just as you calmed down, the lights came to a halt and the concert started. to be honest, you were really glad that it was a pocket show so the boys couldn't interact that much physically with the crowd because the constant movement and yelling was making you dizzy and more overwhelmed by every second, so you were glad that josh wouldn't be able to se your visibly uncomfortable face.

you loved the boys' concerts, you truly did. but you just couldn't wait for this one to finish, to be honest.

at this point, you couldn't even pay attention to tyler's singing, you just had to focus on keeping yourself on its place. considering that you were on the verge of having a panic attack and you couldn't dare to sit down while you're feeling dizzy, nauseous and slowly losing your conscience.

gladly, you could still cry. people would just think that you were thrilled. so that's what you did. you ugly cried until you heard the last screams of "hello" from tyler, meaning that trees was about to end and so was the concert. you couldn't even believe it when the music came to a halt and all you could hear was screams and applauses. these were surely the longest 50 minutes of your life.

as the boys came to the front to bow, josh started to look for you and as he found your eyes, his heart dropped. he knew you too well. he knew you weren't crying because of the concert, bur yes because of something else, most likely your anxiety got the best of you.

he was feeling so bad for you, for having left you alone and now seeing you in this state. he felt and the guilty over him. in a matter of seconds, after tyler said "we're twenty one pilots and so are you" he whispered something in a rush in his ear and he nodded, giving him the permission to run to you.

as he reached you, you started crying even more. you were too overwhelmed at this point. he then grabbed your hands firmly and asked "hey, hey, easy. are you ok?" and you shook your head weakly, feeling like you wouldn't last too long.

"ok, do you think you can jump this grid?" he asked and you nodded with a weak smile. with a help of two securities and the strong arms of your loved one, you made it to his arms. he grabbed you in bridal style and rushed out of the convention center, while kissing your forehead.

at this point, you were crumbling completely, letting all your feelings out. you were embarrassed, nervous, overwhelmed but above all, relieved for being finally in the arms of the man you loved the most. when you arrived outside, josh sat on the floor with you on his arms. he held you tightly, never wanting to let you go, he loved you so much that he couldn't put into words, so he demonstrated with actions, all the time.

and the same goes for you, you adored him, you never felt such as a thing as you felt your love for josh, it was overwhelming, but in good way actually.

he didn't ask you any questions. he just held you, kissing your forehead, massaging your back and eventually taking your hair out of your face. he stayed in silence with you, just gesturing with his hands the breathing exercises that you both had been practicing. once he made sure your breath was controlled, he just made his magic.

"and it was all yellow..." he sang lowly, only enough for you and him to listen.

it was like the whole world stopped, and it was just you and him. he forgot about his problems and commitments, even the meet&greet's that were about to happen after the show, he forgot they existed, his priority was you and you only.

"your skin, oh yeah, your skin and bones..." he kept singing, shyly but doing it all for you.

you couldn't believe this, your favorite song being sang by your favorite person. he knew just the right buttons to press to make you feel like yourself again. you could feel your tears slowly drying and you smiled weakly against his chest, feeling the comfort you could never get tired of. feeling your smile encouraged josh to sing louder, as a way to also express his feelings, especially what he felt for you.

"turn in to something beautiful..."

you knew it wasn't going to be the last time you were going to hear his pretty voice sing. now that you knew that he would do this for you, you would always get the best of it. at this point, you were almost crying of joy. he was too sweet for you.

"do you know, you know i love you so.."

now, you had forgotten about the last one and a half hours of your life. you were back into your reality, where you felt good and happy, all of this because you had this yellow headed smiley boy by your side, always. to make an honor to him, you got all the strength you had left after crying a river and sang the last verse with him.

"you know i love you so... much." you nearly whispered the last word.

as he heard your tired voice, josh looked down at you with pure love in his eyes, that face that once was full of concern was now relaxed again, as the smile that he loved so much was returned to you.

all you knew was that you're going to be okay, it didn't matter what'd have to deal later in social media and press. you were okay, and while Josh was by your side, you'd always be. no matter what. even if he was comforting you from a panic attack in the middle of a sidewalk. it was just okay. after all, for him, you'd bleed yourself dry. and so would him for you.

#josh dun #yellow #twenty one pilots #fanfic #joshua dun #josh dun imagines #twenty one pilots imagines #josh dun imagine #twenty one pilots fan fiction #josh dun x reader

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daydream-believin · 4 years ago

Text

What About the Smaller Picture (2)

Summary: Merlin knows best. And what he feels is best for you and Douxie right now is to sit around and wait for him to come back from New Jersey, Merlin-knows-when. (2) Your first day in Arcadia, it sure is something. (1) - (3)

Warnings: swearing, proofing is for nerds

Word Count: 2211

a/n: i hope to be able to make you feel the awkwardness radiating off of every part of this series

Hisirdoux’s special welcome tour didn’t exactly do its job of making you feel welcome. You supposed that was more of a problem with you than the town. It definitely wasn’t of any fault of Hisirdoux’s. If anything, he was being a little too warm. It almost felt fake.

People appeared to like Hisirdoux. All across town, he would greet friends, introduce you to them. Kinda like he was showing you off. You did not know what for. He barely knew you, yet he talked about you like you were an old friend returned to him. Like he was proud of you or something. You supposed he was establishing a cover story. And you weren’t sure why. Why not just say you were new in town? What tracks was he trying to cover here.

You stopped paying too much attention to what Hisirdoux was telling others about you. He was telling them that he cared for you. That he missed you. It was a lie, sure. But just hearing those words come out of someone else’s mouth were making you melt. It had been so long that it was hard for you to recall the last time a person said such nice things about you. That was sad. You supposed the blush on your face did good to add to the story he was telling. Made it more believable. You felt really pathetic that this guy you barely knew lying through his teeth about you was actually making you blush as if it was real. As if anyone really thought those nice things he said about you in real life. Man that’s really sad. Moving on.

The town itself looked a little rough. Like it had seen better days. It was apparently a hub of magic, so it probably had. A lot of the damage you saw looked very recent though. That made sense. The whole reason you wound up here was because you befriended a girl traveling with a pack of trolls migrating from this very town. When asked why they were migrating, Claire, the girl, had told you that their home had been destroyed in a recent battle. “The Eternal Night” they called the battle. You, of course, knew about such eternal night. You had heard of the prophecy, you just didn’t expect it to happen in your lifetime. And you may had freaked out just a tad when it came along earlier that month, the unexpected solar eclipse confusing you and your studies before you figured out what was happening. However, you had assumed the battle took place underground, you know, cause trolls. The town you explored with Hisirdoux told a different story. At one point you saw a troll walking by, under an umbrella, following a red-headed human woman with a baby in her arms. And the locals didn’t seem to care. No one batted an eye. Strange town.

What really baffled you though was what happened later in the day, back at the bookstore, when you cast a simple spell. Nothing too flashy, just a little levitation on a book Hisirdoux had sent you to find up on a high shelf you couldn’t reach. When he saw you, Doux made a really panicked gasping sound. He threw himself in front of you, shielding you from the people who were not even there, startling you, and throwing off your focus. The book landed on both of you with a thunk.

“You can’t do that,” his voice was hushed despite you two being the only ones in the shop at the moment, “It’s business hours. The mortals don’t know about wizards and they shouldn’t see magic,” he stressed.

“But- uh,, They look just fine with the trolls?” Confusion was written across your face.

“That’s different. It’s different. Look, the situation is weird, okay,” He made a little X with his hands. “But I can’t have you casting spells around the shop. Or in public, period. The mortals can’t see anything, okay?”

“Okay, okay. My bad. I won’t do it again- Promise.” Your face was hot with embarrassment. This was your fault for assuming. Fuck, he probably thinks you’re a wild card now or something. Not a good start to your professional life here. Or your relationship with this Adonis who’s reprimanding you.

“While there are some other wizards around town that I’ll introduce you to tonight, to stay safe, generally just keep the magic for when we’re alone and out of sight.”

“Oh, yeah, uh- Okay”

He grinned. Suddenly, he leaned in, catching you off guard. “It can be a special thing,” His voice was even softer as he was so close to you, “just between the two of us.”

Oh. So he meant when just You and Him were alone and out of sight. Ooookaaaayyyy. He winked to you as he separated himself from your side, and went off to the back of the store to continue unpacking a shipment he had just got in. He left you there, clutching that damn book to your chest, face now hotter than before, if that was even possible at all. Oh no.

Fuck, it was fucking day one. Day one! Day fucking one and you were developing a crush. NOPE. This was not something you were going to do. Uh-uh. Nein. There was no fucking time for this. Well, you didn’t really know how much time you had with Merlin and his addiction to being perceived as mysterious or whatever the hell was wrong with that asshole you worked for now, but the point is you did not have time for this! Hisirdoux was too much. Merlin really should have had the decency to warn you that he was hot. This wasn’t fair. Not only was Doux beautiful, but he was a touchy person. You weren’t going to stand a chance.

The thing is you had been sooo worried about how you and Hisirdoux were going to get along, you even brought up the concern to Merlin. To be honest, you had thought the old wizard to just be annoyed at your worrying, and that’s why he reassured you it’d all be fine. That you and Hisirdoux would get along swimmingly or whatever just get out of my hair kid. You were so afraid Hisirdoux would have to warm up to you like a cat being introduced to a new kitten. Afraid that he’d resent you since you were technically Merlin’s apprentice too now in a sense. And he was used to being number one, no one else to compete with for Merlin’s sparse pride since Morgana went astray. Merlin assured you Hisirdoux was very friendly. But like, would it kill the geezer to give you a warning that he’d be too friendly.

While you were having your little crisis, Douxie was humming along to the song in his head, stacking up the new books onto a display, trying his absolute dilly darndest not to think about what just happened. What he did. That wasn’t weird, right? Oh fuzzbuckets, he did something weird. He was just so used to playing up the flirty persona he’d developed he hadn’t even stopped to think about if he’d be making you uncomfortable. And he really wanted you to be comfortable. Plus, he felt pretty guilty he had to stop your tour around town to go accept a shipment he forgot. Strangely, he was really concerned about the impression he was giving you. Caring about what another person thought of him was not very in character for him. Not counting Merlin, of course. He was going to have to make this up to you. He really needed you to think he was cool. For professional reasons, of course. Definitely.

~ ~ ~

“SO! I recommend the steak because it’s the least disgusting thing on the menu.”

You gaped at the wizard sitting across from you in this sticky booth, peeping your head over the kitschy French-themed menu you held. He had no menu. In fact he refused to even touch it. Great. What did he know.

“I- What do mean ‘least disgusting’, Casperan.” You were almost afraid to ask.

“I mean that kitchen is filthy and the steak is your best bet for something edible.”

“Why. Why would you bring me here if the food is terrible.”

You were always weary of greasy chain restaurants, but you had expected this one to be at least a little decent, since it was a smaller Cali chain and Hisirdoux had fucking brought you to it your first day in the town. Surely he was kidding.

“I just wanted to show you where I worked nights. So you’d be able to find me easier if there’s any trouble. Besides, you can’t say you’ve been to California if you haven’t had Mr. Benoit’s. It’s like In-N-Out burger. Remind me to take you to an In-N-Out burger later this week.”

You blinked. “Oh – uh, okay.”

Hisirdoux continued, “I can’t have my phone turned on during my shifts so you’ll have to come get me directly if it’s a big enough problem. Make up an emergency. Are you good at improve?”

You looked around the restaurant, getting a feel for its layout, taking notice of where the kitchen and back doors were located, making mental notes of all exits. “Ah, well, I’m good at lying, if that’s what you’re asking…”

“Good enough.”

The waiter came to take your orders. Hisirdoux shared an inside joke with him. It should have been awkward, them laughing away at something you didn’t understand why you sat there quietly, but you were a little too fixated on how pretty Hisirdoux looked when he laughed. It was mesmerizing. The waiter took your order. You got the steak.

~ ~ ~

It was very important for you to establish connections in Arcadia’s wizard underground. Or at least that’s what Hisirdoux thought. You weren’t particularly a social butterfly. It’s not that you didn’t like having a large group of friends or anything, you just never really had a reason to have one. And Doux was hell bent on introducing you to every person in this town in one day apparently. You had met twenty-three wizards in counting over the last hour being shepherded through this off-brand apple store. You had so far learned no names. How did he expect you to remember these peoples names. Scratch that. You knew one name. Zoe. Just because she was very annoyed at your and Hisirdoux’s presence in her workplace, and was very vocal about it. That being said, she didn’t make any real effort to get you to leave. You wished she would though. You were getting overwhelmed. Today had been incredibly stressful, with a lot of information to take in, and with only a brief rest when Doux was handling things at the bookstore. You wanted to go home. Geez, home. You realized that Hisirdoux had yet to show you home. Where was home.

You tugged on his hand to grab his attention. “Hey, I’m- uh – tired? Really tired. Can - can we go home?”

“OH. Yes! Home. Right away. Yes.”

Douxie possibly maybe had been avoiding home all day. It just, it wasn’t much. He had no idea how you were going to react. His space was small already without adding another person to it. Of course, it wasn’t any smaller than any of the one-room cottages that entire families used to share, but it was tiny for modern standards. Okay to be frank it was a back room. Not technically even an actual apartment. But it was his home. And now it was your home too.

Okay, so Hisirdoux lived in his bookstore. What was probably supposed to be a break room was his entire living space. It was… cozy. You set the backpack that carried everything you owned down on the floor and headed for the lumpy plaid sofa. It was nice and old, like a sofa should be. The plaid pattern covered any stains that might have been there. Hisirdoux sat down next to you, starting to fiddle with his hands. You looked around, took it all in. The was a kitchenette off to one side, a bed to the other side. The sofa was in the sort of middle ground. Notably, there was no table, barely any counter space, and various teacups on the coffee table, so it was a safe bet that he just ordered take out every night and ate it on the sofa. The twin bed was on the ground, and the quilts that covered it had visible holes. It struck you that this bed was the only one in the room. The one room.

“So I’ll take the sofa, until we get you a bed. I’ll, uh, figure something out with the space. We can put up curtains or something.” It was if he had read your mind.

You nodded, unsure of anything to add. This was,,,, going to be fun. A challenge. A test to see how long you can act normal while living in extremely close quarters with a funny medieval supermodel. Merlin help you. Something moved in the corner of your eye. You gasped.

“Kitty!”

“Oh, that’s Archie.”

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Talking kitty. How bout that.

#douxie x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x y/n #douxie imagine #hisirdoux casperan imagine #Douxie Casperan x reader #douxie casperan imagine #tales of arcadia x reader #tales of arcadia imagine #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #my writing #watsp

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chaoticpuff17 · 4 years ago

Text

Suga, We’re Going Down

Part 1

masterlist

Because, my darlings, I have no impulse control and Yoongi demanded to be written. I’m going to see if I can balance between SW and this, alternate releasing chapters for each story, but we’ll see. The title is a working title. don’t know if I’ll stick with it. I’m open to suggestions. Enjoy, my lovlies! It was a blast to write!-- Chaotic puff

here’s a link to the song the MC plays in this chapter!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qrKjywjo7Q

Yoongi didn’t go to events like this. He was a professional, but even professionals got blocks sometimes, and he was having a block. He couldn’t seem to produce anything new. He had spent hours in his studio trying to come up with something, but the muse had abandoned him. He needed to get out of his head, to get out of the studio for a while.

That was how he ended up sitting through a university showcase watching young, aspiring musicians present their skills. It was a far more classical feel than he used in his music. He was a rap god. He didn’t really use Debussy and Mozart in his work. But there was something amusing about watching all the fresh faced youths taking their showcase so seriously. Most of them would never be serious musicians. They would never play for a national symphony, but the way they all looked it was as if they were playing for some great orchestra or symphony instead of a small college showcase was amusing. It was all so serious, all so insignificant.

He was bored with it. Bored with the overly perfect renditions of the same songs that people had been playing for decades. Where was the feeling? Where was the passion? They were all just clinically passing through the motions for a grade. None of them would make serious musicians, not playing the way they did.

He was about to leave when the first strains of the cello caught his attention. It was the first real emotion he had heard from any of them. His eyes snapped to the stage to see a pair of girls. One was seated at the piano while the other was sat on a solitary chair with a cello before her. Both of them were as perfectly put together as every other student that had gone before them had been, black dresses and not a hair out of place.

He ignored the pianist in the favor of the cellist. Her eyes were closed as she played the rest of her face serene. She was completely at peace even though the song she played showed a deep sorrow. The song was just as recognizable as every other piece that had been played that night. The only difference was the musician.

She was lovely, pale and fragile under the stage lights, but there was also something almost unbearably sad about her, and it showed in her playing. The piece itself was already melancholy, but the way she played it was nearly heartbreaking. Her hair was pulled back in a neat updo that left her face clear for his perusal. Even with her eyes closed her face was filled with emotion. The simple string of pearls around her neck highlighted its curve, its swan like quality. Everything about her was simple, classic, graceful as she played.

He looked through the program he had been given when he’d first arrived searching for the song, searching for a name, her name. There is it was. The Swan composed by Camille Saint-Saens played by Kang Y/N and accompanied by Guem Nina. Kang Y/N. The name rang through his head carried by the melody she played. Beautiful. Beautiful and sad just like the song she played, just like her.

The song passed by too quickly for his liking. Before he knew it she was pulling her bow across the strings for the final time. Both musicians bowed to the audience before disappearing backstage and out of his sight. The spell was broken, but Yoongi still wanted to know more. Who was she? Why was she so sad? Why had she chosen that song? Yoongi wanted to know it all. The thought of her sent inspiration running through him. The fire was lit again telling him to create, to compose, for her.

He wanted to know what she would think of his music. Did she listen to rap? More specifically, did she listen to him? Or did she prefer classical music like the kind she had just played? Did she play any other instruments? Did she sing? How would the cello sound intertwined with his own style of music? He wanted to know the answer to all of these questions and so many more, but first he had to find her. Kang Y/N. His new muse.

So he sent out a bodyguard to find out everything about her that he could. Perhaps he should have felt guilty sending out a man to practically stalk the girl and bring him information on her, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty about the invasion of her privacy. She consumed him, filling his thoughts. He wanted her near him. He wanted to hear her play, wanted to wipe the sadness from her features, and he was determined to do just that. She was meant to be his, and he wouldn’t rest until she was.

Y/N was unaware of the thoughts coursing through his head as she was backstage tucked into a broom closet peeling herself out of her dress and the uncomfortable heels in favor of a pair of ripped jeans and a comfy sweater. She let her hair down from its tight confines and secured it in a loose pony tail. She loved playing, but stepping out on stage was always nerve wracking for her. The dresses and the perfectly put together faces never seemed like her. She wasn’t fancy or elegant. She was just… her. She didn’t even own the cello she had just played. She could never afford such a beautiful instrument. It belonged to the school.

She had had the cello on loan so long as she participated in the university orchestra, but that deal could no longer be upheld on her end. Family and financial obligations would no longer allow it. They were barely making ends meet as it was. She didn’t have the time to spend at rehearsals and practices when she needed to be focusing on her studies and working. Even her studies would have to take a back seat if their fortunes didn’t take a turn for the better soon.

It was just her, her grandmother, and her baby nephew, well no longer quite a baby. He was going to be three before she knew it. Her mother had taken off years ago. She flew in and out of their lives whenever it suited her usually when she wanted someone from them. Her father, bless him, couldn’t hold down a job to save his life. He was a dreamer. He sat at home most days contemplating the great questions of life like some sort of great philosopher. Most times he was drunk when he did this. She thanked god that he wasn’t violent drunk. His head was in the clouds more than else when he was drunk. Her sister, well no one really knew where Ha Jin was. She had taken off after the baby was born. She’d left Eun Jae with her and their grandmother, and she’d disappeared into the wind just like their mother had.

Part of her wanted to blame her little sister, to scream to the high heavens that it wasn’t fair that she was too young to be responsible for a child, but so was Ha Jin. She had been a child when she’d gotten pregnant, just seventeen when the baby was born. She was far too young to be a mother. Y/N couldn’t blame her for not being ready to raise a child, but she could blame her for abandoning Eun Jae.

Eun Jae didn’t know his mother. As far as he was concerned Y/N was his mother. She and Halmeoni were his whole world, his whole family. Her father couldn’t be counted as any sort of parental figure. He couldn’t be counted as one for his own daughters much less for his grandson. She’d heard her grandmother curse on more than one occasion that the gods had given her such a useless son. Y/N had cursed on more than one occasion that the gods had given her such a useless father. But they had to work with what they were given, and this was the hand that fate had played them.

She had been eight when she’d figured out that both of her parents were useless. She’d been sixteen when she’d gotten her first part time job to help support the family. She’d been nineteen when she’d had to become a mother for her nephew. It was a shitty life, but it was hers.

Despite all the chaos Eun Jae had brought into the world, she wouldn’t trade him for anything. She loved that little boy more than life. He was her little angel, her light, the reason she was willing to sacrifice anything, to sacrifice everything. She may not have birthed him, but he was her son. He was the reason that she was sitting in a chicken place late in the evening a few days after the showcase with Nina. The pair of them were huddled over a phone making a profile on an app called sugarbebe.

“Are you sure about this?” Nina asked as they finalized her profile. “Maybe you could get another job.”

“I’m already working two jobs, along with school and practice, and Eun Jae. I can’t take on anything else.” She shook her head tiredly, glaring down at her phone in distaste. “We need the money.”

“What are you going to tell Halmeoni?” Nina questioned brows furrowed worriedly.

“I’m not going to tell Halmeoni anything. She thinks I’m looking for another job to take the place of orchestra.”

“And she’s okay with that?”

“No.” She laughed recalling the look on her grandmother’s face when she had told her that she was quitting orchestra. “She’s pissed at me. Says I’m wasting my God given talent, and that I’ll end up like my mom and my father and my sister if I’m not careful.”

“Harsh.” The other girl cringed knowing full well just how scary Y/N’s grandmother could be. “I still can’t believe it was your last concert.”

“It was only a showcase. Forget orchestra. Halmeoni said all that, and I haven’t even mentioned the possibility of giving up school to help with the bills.”

Nina’s eyes widened almost comically. “She’s going to kill you.”

“Yeah. I know.” She shuddered thinking of what her grandmother would do to her if she did quit school to help. It would not be a pretty picture. “I think she’d beat me black and blue with her favorite soup ladle.”

“Then let’s hope she doesn’t find out, and let’s hope you find yourself a rich sugar daddy.” Nina raised her glass in a mock toast, and Y/N raised hers as well.

“Here’s hoping.”

They pressed the button submitting her profile on the app. It was too late to back out now. If she was lucky whoever chose her wouldn’t be too old or perverted. With any luck he wouldn’t be ugly either, but that was asking a lot and she didn’t hold that much hope. She’d be lucky if the guy wasn’t too much of a creep.

They both stared down at the phone in shock as it chimed, the banner announcing that she had a match on sugarbebe. Neither of them had expected anything quite that soon.

“Well, open it! What does it say? Who did you match with?” Nina asked excitedly eyes taking up almost the whole of her face with how wide they were.

She tapped on her phone opening the profile. MYG. No picture. Age twenty-seven. A producer. There wasn’t much information, but there was a message from the man asking to meet in person.

Nina looked over her shoulder frowning as she examined the profile as well. “He doesn’t have much information does he?”

“He wants to meet.”

“When?”

“Friday.” She gulped suddenly filled with nerves. It was all becoming so real. “He’s wants to meet on Friday at D-2.”

They both knew D-2. Every young person in the city knew it. It was the hottest club in Seoul at the moment, made even hotter by the fact it was owned by the king of rap himself, Agust D. To get into D-2 you either had to be rich, famous, or willing to wait in atrociously long lines and tipping the bouncer an outrageous amount of money wouldn’t hurt your chances either.

“D-2?” Nina gasped practically ripping the phone out of her hand to read the message herself. “Are you sure?”

“That’s what it says.”

“Do you have anything to wear?”

It was a good question. She really didn’t have anything that could be considered worthy of a place like D-2. Nothing she owned was really sexy. It was mostly comfy sweaters, jeans, and cute skirts. Things she could wear to school and work and were comfortable enough to chase a toddler around in. None of those would be appropriate for the club. Neither would any of the dresses she used for concerts. And the look on her face clearly conveyed that to Nina.

“You can borrow something of mine.” She assured gently patting her friend’s arm. “Maybe he won’t be so bad?”

“Maybe.” She agreed nervously.

“You can borrow that purple dress of mine. I can lend you some earrings too.” Nina offered sending her a reassuring smile. “At least you know if he’s meeting you at D-2 he’s gotta be rich.”

Y/N smiled back nervously. “I’m just hoping he’s not too much of a creep. Eun Jae is supposed to be with me at the apartment on Friday. Do you think you could babysit? If I ask Halmeoni to keep him at the restaurant she’ll ask questions.”

She had a small apartment close to campus that she stayed at normally. Eun Jae would bounce between the apartment and the family home with Halmeoni. It was good for him to be out of the house and away from her father sometimes, and it allowed her to keep Eun Jae close. She saw him often enough as she worked at Halmeoni’s restaurant, but on the weekends he would stay with her at the apartment. She’d take him back to Halmeoni’s on Sunday evening, and they’d both stay the night. Halmeoni would watch him during the week while she had classes, practice, and work, and Halmeoni lived closer to the preschool they were sending him to. She hated being away from him so much, but it was the best they could do for the moment.

“Of course I’ll watch Jae-ah.” Nina smiled. “You know I love the little guy. I’m his favorite auntie.”

“You’re his only auntie.”

“Technically, you’re his aunt.”

“Well unless Ha Jin suddenly shows up with a maternal instinct, I’m all he’s got in the mom department.”

“Poor kid.” Nina cringed teasingly.

“Hey.” Y/N shoved her shoulder playfully. “I’m a great mom.”

“You’re okay at it.” The other girl dodged another hit. “I mean, he does have a sugar baby for a mom.”

“First of all, rude. Second, it’s only until we get our heads above water again, and then never again. This will all be a bad memory.”

Nina squeezed her arm sympathetically. “Maybe you’ll actually have a good time.”

“I really don’t think so, but how bad could it be?” It wasn’t going to be forever, and she could put up with anything to help her family, for Eun Jae.

part 2

#bts #bts fic #yandere bts #bts yoongi #bts suga #min yoongi #suga #yandere yoongi #yandere suga #rapper yoongi #suga x reader #yoongi x reader #yandere #fanfic #bts fanfic

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bonjour-rainycity · 4 years ago

Text

Double Heart | Chapter Sixteen ~ Cosima

|previous part|

Pairing: Haldir x OFC

Rating: PG-13

Word count: 3021

Warnings: None

A/n Every chapter, you all make me smile so much <3 Thank you!

Haldir leaves and I let out something halfway between an exhale and a groan.

What. Was. That.

My room, which is a very respectable size, felt like a matchbox as the space between Haldir and I minimized. He went from weeks of keeping a consistent physical barrier between us to ghosting his hands over my arms, my hips, my waist…It’s…new.

And when he held me close, his chest so nearly brushing against my back—

I shake my head against the onslaught of scenarios that run through my mind.

I should not be thinking of him this way.

Haldir is a friend, a guide, an instructor, nothing more.

I let out a deep breath and begin to pace, trying to work off this newfound energy. Haldir and I trained for nearly two hours, I should be exhausted. Instead, I feel wide awake, invigorated, jittery, like I couldn’t possibly go to sleep. I groan, taking my hair out of its bun and letting it fall around me. I stop in my tracks, glancing at the spot where Haldir and I stood so close together just moments ago.

I cannot stay here.

I tear through the open door, turning right and taking the staircase that leads to the first floor. I turn left and, before I know it, I’m standing in front of Alex’s closed door.

I knock.

The door creaks open. “Hey,” he greets, opening it wider to allow me in. “What’s up?”

“I uh,” I purse my lips, having not really thought through my plan. I do need a distraction though, and being out of my room is already helping clear the fog from my brain. My eyes catch a pile of books on his nightstand. “I came to help you research, if that’s okay.”

His face lights up. “Yeah! Yeah, of course. I’ve read those three so far,” he gestures to a small stack by the window, “and there’s nothing helpful in them. Everything else in English is fair game. Is there anything specific you want to look into?”

“Fæs.” I’m surprised that the answer comes to me so easily, but as soon I speak the word, I know it’s true — I do want to learn more.

Alex nods slowly. “Yeah, okay, I think I’ve got a couple books on that here. Let me….” He trails off, spinning in a circle as he searches for a specific volume. “Ah.” He squats down and grabs a book near the foot of his bed, reaching it up to me.

An image of Haldir, crouched on the ground, hand warm against my ankle, staring up at me with such intensity, so much confidence—

Alex stands and I look to the ceiling, trying to will away the image and the feelings that come rushing along with it.

“What makes you want to learn about fæs? Isn’t that an elf thing?”

I purse my lips, stalling until the embarrassment fades enough to look Alex in the eye. “Haldir mentioned that humans have their own version of a fæ — a little weaker, a little different, but generally the same concept.” An idea begins to take form, and I roll with it. “I was wondering if—assuming that our fæs remained unchanged between our homeworld and Arda—well, if we could use it somehow, tap into it and reclaim our memories. If anything were to remember, wouldn’t it be our spirits?”

Alex nods slowly, a grin tugging at the edges of his lips. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Great thinking! Let me know if you find anything.”

He settles into the couch, leaving the bed for me. Gratefully, I cozy up against the pillows. I open the book, skimming the introductory chapter, which is basically just a summary of the core concepts Haldir has already explained to me. When I’m on chapter three, the sky passes firmly into night, and even the plethora of candles Alex has lit aren’t enough to keep my eyes from straining.

I pull my knees to my chest and lean forward, glancing over at my friend. His cheeks — which had been gaunt when we first reunited, now take a healthy shape. His shoulders no longer hold vestiges of tension — they lean relaxed, leisurely, against the back of the couch. Even in the limited light, he squints his eyes and continues to read, seeming intent on soaking up as much knowledge as he can.

I rest my chin on my knees. “I need to ask you something.”

He looks up, his eyebrows drawing together in concern. “Okay?”

“Are you alright?”

He sighs, shifting in his seat. “Cosima…”

“No,” I protest. I don’t care if it’s uncomfortable, he needs to talk about things. He’s been bottling it up since he arrived in this world and it hasn’t done anyone any good. “I mean it.”

Alex groans, shaking his head. “Fine, okay. It’s…strange.” He pauses, but I wait, holding out hope that he’ll continue. He does so, slowly. “I’ve…gotten myself to accept that I’m in a different world, but I can’t wrap my mind around the how. That’s stressful. We don’t have a solid plan to return home, nor do we know if we’ll find one. That’s depressing. And, I have flashes and snippets of memories, but otherwise, I feel like I don’t know who I am.”

My heart breaks. Here my friend is, hurting, lost…

And I’ve left him completely alone.

Alex tilts his head to the side, contemplating. “But I do feel better than when we arrived, or even just from a few days ago. Having things to do, feeling useful and like I have agency for the first time…it’s really good for me. And, well,” he dips his head then raises it again, leveling his eyes on me. “It’s helped me realize something else — that I owe you an apology.”

I blink in surprise. I’ve been the one that has pretty much abandoned and ignored him. I should be apologizing.

“On the road, I said some pretty mean things, and I isolated you from your friends and tried to take control. I didn’t mean for it to be like that. I was…” he sighs, shaking his head, “scared out of my mind. I already felt like I couldn’t do anything to fix the problem, and then on top of that I felt like you had completely given up and it was my job to save us both. And I know now that’s not the case, but for a while…” He trails off, shrugging his shoulders. “You’re just more adaptable than I am, I guess.”

I push myself off the bed, cross the room, and sit next to him on the small couch. Automatically, he throws an arm over my shoulder, the movement so familiar and easy that he must have done it a thousand times before. I lay my head on his shoulder, the bone there pressing against my ear.

I take a deep breath. “If we had really been kidnapped, or injured, or anything more realistic than what actually happened,” he gives a small, tired laugh, the movement shaking his shoulder, “you would’ve been the one to get us out. I know it. Even now, you’re the one putting in all the hard work to get us home. I’m sorry I’ve pretty much left you to handle it alone.”

He squeezes my upper arm gently. “I appreciate it, but I don’t blame you. I get it.” He shrugs again, a measure of sadness creeping into his voice. “It’s not like you remember anyone enough to miss them. If you have people you like here, of course you’d focus on them.”

I feel my lips pull into a guilty frown. “They like you too, you know. You all just need to spend some more time together—”

“Nah,” he shakes his head, pushing a smile onto his face. “It’s okay, honestly — we just don’t click. But I have you, and Baranor and I get along well, and I have this project to work on. It’s enough for me.”

I sigh, resting my head against his chest. I hope that’s true.

{***}

At breakfast, Lavandil and I make plans to meet at her shop. She gives me directions and I hurry up the stairs to my room, changing out of my tunic and leggings and into something a little more fun for my first day of work. I settle on a dark purple gown, one that billows down my arm in puffy gossamer sleeves and has a slight, sparkly train. I’m probably a bit overdressed, but knowing Lavandil’s extravagant wardrobe, I’ll fit in just fine. I bound down the staircase, eager to discover the market and the shop. I turn left, intent on exiting the building.

And crash into the middle of someone’s chest.

Hands grip my upper arms, steadying me as I stumble back. Once I’m righted, I look up, and my mouth falls open.

“Cosima—”

“Haldir—”

Both of us freeze, having spoken at the same time. I purse my lips, waiting for him to go first. He raises an eyebrow, evidently expecting the same of me.

But I can’t make the words happen. His hands on my arms send my mind right back to the tension of last night, to the room that started light and open and turned more intimate than it should as the night went on.

Haldir’s arms fall to his sides. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you turning the corner. Are you alright?”

I nod, my eyes darting from his chest clothed in a cobalt blue tunic up to his eyes. The intensity from last night is gone, now replaced with a noticeable degree of hesitance.

Interesting.

Did he feel something last night, too? Or does he know I did, and now feels awkward around me?

That last thought sends a wave of stress through me. Was I horribly obvious? Have I messed everything up?

“Are you off to Lavandil’s shop,” he inquires, pulling my mind away from these anxiety-inducing thoughts.

“Yes.”

He quirks a smile. “Then I imagine you will be seeing a lot of my brother today. He has a tendency to hang around there.”

“Probably a result of him being in love with the shop-owner,” I quip, voice going high with nerves.

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes, I suppose that would do it.”

We fall into awkward silence.

Haldir clears his throat. “Well, enjoy your day.”

“You too,” I nod, crossing paths with him to exit the building.

Once outside, I take in a gulping breath.

Did I create all that weirdness? Or is he struggling to figure out how to act around me, too? And why?

Things have never been strained or awkward between myself and Haldir. Once he got over his initial suspicion of me, we got along easily. I feel like he understands me better than the others and, if I had to pick a favorite, as Rumil prompted me not so long ago, it would be, without question, the supposedly-stern Marchwarden leading our company. And, based on the amount of time he spends with me of his own accord, I would say he enjoys my presence, too.

So, that begs the question, what could have happened to turn all that ease on its head and replace it with stilted, awkward, unsure interactions? We were fine until last night—

I suck in a breath.

My brain, apparently useless until I looked the issue straight in the eye, starts piecing together instances of my time with Haldir, forming a terrifying and exhilarating picture.

Sleeping between me and the entrance to our camp so I wouldn’t be frightened. Spending hours alone with me lying on a blanket staring up at the stars. The way he panicked and looked after me when I had my migraine. Big things like that and smaller ones, too — the way he teases me, the way he always makes sure I’m cared for, whether that means sharing from his canteen or sending me with food when I’m likely to miss dinner. The way he’s conscious of my fears—heights, orcs, you name it—and provides support without coddling me, enabling me to handle and face them on my own. The way his arms, so gentle yet so secure, held me close, even for just the smallest of moments.

Could we…have feelings for each other?

Could this rapid and strong attachment to an ellon I met mere weeks ago be something other than friendship?

With a sinking feeling in my gut, the momentary rush of excitement falls into something much more sinister. Something that, in any other world would be a wonderful, thrilling feeling—the one I am developing feelings for maybe, potentially, might see me the same way—is here, horrifying.

Because elves live forever and love only once.

And a human lifespan is dismally short.

Rumil’s face after our conversation yesterday, crestfallen and saddened, comes to my mind.

If my mere friendship with these ellyn will cause them grief when I’m gone, then even entertaining these thoughts about Haldir….

It’s deplorable.

From the heart of the city, the bell chimes. I’m late to meet Lavandil.

I shove down the ache that makes my lips quiver and hurry down the path that will lead me to the market.

The distraction of working with Lavandil will be my lifeline.

I cannot allow my feelings for Haldir progress any further. So, though I’m not sure how effective I’ll be, I swear not to think about him for the rest of the day.

{***}

“What happened last night between you and Haldir?”

Damn.

I made it two hours.

I swallow, trying to seem busy as I hang a tapestry on a display. “What?”

Lavandil comes up beside me, using her height to hang the art properly. “Rumil told Orophin who told me that Haldir came back from training with you and seemed quite flustered.”

My body runs hot. “Did he?”

“Mhm,” she nods decisively. “Apparently he returned to the room in a rush, wouldn’t say a thing, and then spent over three hours at the training grounds, sparring quite harshly with some of the guard.”

Even though the tapestry is hung, I pretend to fuss with it, not brave enough to meet Lavandil’s eyes. “Nothing happened. Maybe he just wanted a better workout — I can’t imagine I was much of a challenge.” I try for a joke, and mercifully, she gives me a pity laugh.

Her demeanor softens. “Cosima, you know there’s nothing wrong with having an attraction, or even feelings.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it,” I shriek, much louder than I meant to. I look at her with wide eyes, surprised by my outburst.

Thankfully, no one is in the shop, and Lavandil only regards me with calm eyes, no judgement in them.

“I’m sorry,” I hurry to apologize, sitting myself in a chair at a nearby table. On top of it sits a beautiful garnet tablecloth — Lavandil’s work. She sits across from me.

“It’s alright,” she smiles kindly, resting her elbows on the table to mirror me. “I had a similar disposition when I realized I loved Orophin.”

“I don’t love him,” I correct quickly.

She puts her hands up in the sign for surrender, though her bottom lip pulls like she’s trying not to make a face.

“I don’t,” I insist, putting effort into keeping my tone non-angry. I lower my voice, worried, perhaps irrationally, that Haldir himself will go waltzing by and hear my dreadful confession. “It’s, at most, an interest, and probably not even that. Likely more of a curiosity.”

“Well, interests are nothing to be ashamed of.” Her tone matches my low volume and carries in it a gentleness I could never hope to emulate.

“Yes, they do!” My voice drops to nearly a whisper. “Lavandil, he is an elf. You know I’m human. The two don’t mix well.”

She huffs. “There’s nothing to say that. An elleth here, Arwen—”

“Is walking into a tragedy,” I cut her off.

Lavandil’s eyes narrow. “Too many people see it that way, and it is getting quite old. Do you know what I see? Two souls in love. Though their futures are bleak and incompatible, their presents are filled with joy and love and the connection that can only come from two fæs who want each other so badly finally bonded. They would still face pain if they ignored their love for each other — so why not give themselves what joy they can?”

“But she will die—”

Now it’s Lavandil’s turn to interrupt. “Arwen is fully grown. She is wise, and I trust that she knows herself well enough to make the choices she has. Her life is ultimately her own. She can spend it how she pleases.”

I press my lips together, head falling to stare at the deep red tablecloth. Despite Lavandil’s conviction, her words do nothing to allay my fears.

The only thing that awaits an elf bonded with a human is grief and death.

Arwen may have made her choice, but so have I made mine.

“Rumil said elves can take centuries to fall in love. Is that true?”

Lavandil pauses, caught off guard with my change in topic. “I-in some cases, yes. More that it could potentially take that long for an elf to admit they are in love. Often, even if they are not ready to accept it, their fæs know. And even then, that is the timeline in the most rare of cases. You know, for Orophin and I it only took a matter of—”

I raise my eyes to her, pleading. “Lavandil.”

She sighs, staring at me like she wishes I had asked her something else. “Fine, yes. Elves fall slower than humans.”

I take in a deep breath, nodding.

Good.

Because if I have only just noticed these feelings, chances are, if Haldir were to follow suit, he is way behind. The instance Lavandil described from last night, the other hints that show he might be feeling something…I can end them now.

I have time to stop this.

I have time to save him.

A/n So, funny thing, @errruvande got pretty close to guessing Cosima’s reaction to realizing her feelings for Haldir, so shout out to Liza!!! Seriously though, love her, love her blog, I’d definitely recommend checking her account out! Thank you all for reading!

|next part|

|masterlist|

Tolkien tag list: @anangelwhodidntfall @eru-vande

Haldir tag list: @tolkien-apologist

Double Heart tag list: @lainphotography @themerriweathermage @thophil2941btw @kenobiguacamole @wishingtobeinadifferentuniverse @from-patroclus-with-love @boywivlove @ordinarymom1 @my-darling-haldir @sweet-bea-blossom @moony-artnstuff

#haldir #haldir x ofc #haldir x oc #haldir fanfic #haldir fanfiction

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cyro-starfire · 3 years ago

Text

Cyro meeting Lemon Monster for the first time - Lemcy fic

⚠️WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC: OC X CANON, VIOLENCE, CUSSING, KISSING, CRINGE⚠️

Character colors

Blue - Boyfriend

Red - Girlfriend

Green - Pico

Pink - Cyro

Orange - Lemon Monster

The night was still young, the stars shine brightly throughout the night sky, the full moon also gave a brilliant light that made the night seem less dark. Pico, Girlfriend, Boyfriend, and Cyro were having as friend's night out, just the four of them. They generally used their time in the night to goof around and have fun, visiting parks, getting ice cream and just messing around with each other.

As the night grew they decided to sleep over at Pico's place for the night, Girlfriend told her parents about it so they wouldn't panic if Girlfriend didn't get home tonight. On their way to Pico's house Pico noticed the mansion that Girlfriend's parent's had owned, the same one where Bee and Gee met the spooky kids Skid and Pump.

"Ayo, Bee, ain't that the same house you met those kids in?" Pico asked Boyfriend. "Hrm?" Boyfriend looked over and noticed the house. "Oh yeah, it is, what about it?" "Well ain't it also the same house where you told me you like dissed a weird lemon headed monster thing?" Pico added. "Uhh...y-yeah...? Where are you going with this Pico?" Boyfriend asked slightly nervous of what Pico's intentions could've possibly been...

"Well, it's been a long ass time since I had a good scare, not even Cassandra's stupid ass could scare me, you said the guy was genuinely terrifying, I wanna be the judge of that shit!" Pico exclaimed. "DUDE! ARE YOU FUCKIN INSANE? THAT FUCKER WANTED TO EAT ME AND BAE!" Boyfriend responded with a shocked screech. "Dude come on, how bad can it be for me? Besides, Gee can't die remember?" Pico tried to remind Boyfriend. "But he was still fucking creepy, even for a dearest like me." Girlfriend admitted.

"For real?" Pico asked, astounded by Girlfriend of all people admitting that. "Yeah dude." "Well if that's the case, i think it's about time you introduced me to him!" Pico chuckled. "DUDE NO! ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?! PLUS WHAT IF CYRO GETS HURT?!" Girlfriend states to Pico, obviously not happy that he would want to do something this reckless and life threatening. Pico looked at Cyro and felt bad that he almost forgot that they were there..."Well...you guys know I'll shoot up anything hostile." He responds bluntly. "Come on, it'll be worth it, i wanna meet this fucker" Girlfriend and Boyfriend looked at each other and then looked at Cyro for their input.

"o-o-oh uhm..." Cyro was taken aback by the situation being suddenly focused around them. "Do you think you'll be able to handle this shit Cy?" Boyfriend asks the alien in a gentle tone, as to not put more stress on Cy. "w-w-well i-i m-m-mean uh...i-i guess it sh-shouldn't b-be too b-bad if P-Pico is the o-one protecting us..." They replied quietly but not too quiet to where Bee and Gee couldn't hear. "You sure?" "I-I'm p-positive! P-Please don't w-worry about m-me too m-much!" Cyro reassures the two. Bee and Gee look at Cyro for a while and sighed. "Alright just...stay close to us alright?" Cyro nods in response.

Girlfriend finally responded to Pico "Okay, fine we'll go in again..." Pico cheered. "HELL YEAH! LES FUCKING GO!!!" Pico screamed out in joy as he immediately darted towards the mansion and wasted no time to get in, the other three followed but not as enthusiastic as Pico, they were more reluctant if anything, especially Girlfriend...

The inside of the mansion felt as dead and haunted as the first time Girlfriend and Boyfriend went inside it together for the first time. "I still hate looking at the inside of this hellscape babe..." Boyfriend shuddered. "Me too honey bun..." "Awe come on you guys are pussies!" Pico giggled. "EASY FOR YOU TO SAY MAN, YOU FUCKING KILLED A HUGE ASS ALIEN WHEN WE WERE IN FUCKING SCHOOL!" Boyfriend screeched at Pico in anger only making Pico laugh more. Cyro was shaking like a leaf, clinging tightly onto Girlfriend's red dress. "Y-You okay Cy?" Girlfriend asked, worried about the shivering alien. "i-i-i-i-i'm g-g-g-good..." Cyro whimpered silently.

"Okay this was obviously a bad idea, I'm pretty sure this place alone is gonna make Cy have a huge panic attack.." Boyfriend sighed but was cut off by Cyro. "N-N-NO! I-i-i-i-i'm okay, i-i promise...i-i-it's j-j-j-just c-c-cold here..." "You sure Cy?" Pico asked, concerned as well. "Y-Yeah...t-trust me g-guys i-i'm fine!" The alien tried their best to reassure the three, which only resulting in Pico, Bee and Gee sighing in unison, they couldn't just back out on this so quickly...right...?

After some time of exploring the mansion, it did take some time for Pico to get genuinely spooked by the place... "Wow...y'all weren't fuckin around..." He chuckled nervously. "This place is creepy as fuck...why do your parents even own this place to begin with Gee?" Girlfriend shrugged "I don't know man, sometimes they don't even make sense to me..." She responds. "Wait, so you admit your scared then?" Boyfriend asks with a slight giggle.

"WH-WHAT?! N-NO?! I AIN'T FUCKIN SCARED BEE!!" "Ya sure Pico?" Boyfriend giggled even more. "Your sure acting like your scared!" "THERE'S A FUCKIN DIFFERENCE WITH BEING SCARED AND BEING CREEPED OUT YOU FUCK NUT, GET THAT THROUGH YOUR THICK ASS HEAD!" "Okay but your stuttering, your clearly pissing yourself dude." "NO I FUCKIN AIN'T!" "Yeah you are!" "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!" Pico screamed. And thus, an argument began with the two boys, Girlfriend sighed. Some things never really do change, do they? Cyro looked away from the arguing boys only to be met with an odd looking shadow in the distance. "h-h-h-huh?"

"g-g-guys...?" Cyro tried to get everyone's attention but they couldn't be heard over Boyfriend and Pico so they had to try again "G-Guys?" Still not being heard over, so Cyro took a deep breath and reluctantly scream to get their attention. "GUYS!" With them finally being heard all three of them turned their heads to look at the quivering alien. "Is something wrong Cy?"

"u-uh y-yeah, WHAT TH-THE FUCK IS THAT?!" The alien screeched in terror pointing at the lemon shaped shadow that was hiding behind a door. "What's wh- oh...oh no..." "B-B-Bee...?" "What the fu..." The shadow suddenly had a visible smile and finally spoke. "Well, well, well~ what do we have here~? A three course meal~? How thoughtful of you all~!" The voice was deep, soothing, and mesmerizing. The creature slowly opened the door and stepped out.

As seen through the shadow it had a yellow, lemon shaped head, it's eyes were huge with wide pupils within them, it's teeth were uncomfortably crooked, it's neck was a velvet red and the rest of it's body was a pitch, raven black, it had two fingers on each hand, and it had only two toes on each foot. The creature was very tall in compared to the four other beings within the room, it towered over all of them.

"It has been quite a long while since i have seen you two~! And i see you've brought that little schizophrenic ginger friend of yours~! And-" the monster paused to look at Cyro behind Girlfriend, still scared out of their mind. "Well now~! Who's this little friend of yours~? They look rather...appetizing~ in more ways then one if i must be so bold to say~!" He said, attempting to slowly approach Cy but was stopped by Girlfriend. "Don't go near them...O R E L S E . . ." She warned it with a growl, which only made the lemon headed monster roll its eyes in annoyance. "And you still don't know how to not be so RUDE..." The monster growled.

"Better not try jack shit bitch, i know how to use this thing." Pico aimed the gun towards the monster which only made it boom with laughter. "You think a puny little weapon like that scares me? How adorable~!" It chuckled before lunging at Girlfriend and attacked her which made Pico start firing bullets at the creature, and Cy ran as fast as they could into an empty hallway. Boyfriend stood still, he didn't wanna engage in the violence, he didn't sign up for this shit man...

After the monster and Girlfriend fought, monster while doing a number on Girlfriend decided that enough damage was done and went after Cyro. Pico and Boyfriend, instead of knowing Girlfriend can easily heal, and going after the monster and making sure he doesn't hurt them, went to Girlfriend to see if she was okay, Cyro was sobbing and whimpering while running, wanting to be home right now and not here.

"FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!!! I KNEW THIS WAS A BAD IDEA WHY DID I TRY TO LOOK BRAVE FOR EVERYONE HHHH!!!!" The alien screamed internally and wished that they were just honest so that none of this would be happening right now, after some running they found themself in a dead end, and what was worse is that they could hear the monster's footsteps. "NONONONONONONONONONO PLEASE PLEASE OH PLEASE I DON'T WANNA DIE, WHY ME, WHY ME. WHY ME!!!" As much as they hated themself, but they were still terrified of dying, especially like this...

The monster got closer and closer until he was visible again which only heightened Cyro's anxiety, their heart was pounding through their chest and their breathing was rapid, they could barley think straight at all. "There you are my dear~!" The monster cooed. "p-p-p-please leave m-m-me alone..." They whimpered quietly. "Oh don't worry dear~! I won't kill you~! Will i possibly hurt you? Maybe, but then again..." He got closer to them and pinned them against the wall, he slowly put his two fingered claws against their face, and caressed their face gently.

"I would feel guilty if i caused any sort of harm to an adorable and beautiful creature such as yourself~!" It whispered in their ear making Cyro blush deeply and shudder they were so confused by this behavior. "You know, i normally don't have such feelings for prey...but you...your different..." The monster explained to Cyro. "wh-what d-do you m-mean...?" "I mean what i mean my sweet cherry cake~! Your seem like such a delicate creature~!" The monster slowly moved it's claws under Cyro's chin and began to rub the bottom of their chin gently. Cyro couldn't help but purr at the sensation.

The monster chuckled at Cyro's purring, they were so adorable. "Perhaps i won't eat you~ your so sweet, I'm afraid that if I eat you, I'll get a cavity~!" The monster joked. Cyro didn't respond, they only continued to purr at the monster rubbing their chin, until he took his claw away from their chin which only made them whine. "wh-why'd y-you st-" they were interrupted by the monster giving them a soft and gentle kiss on the lips, which surprised Cyro at first, but they slowly sunk into the kiss and kissed the monster back. There was some time before they broke away from the kiss, Cyro panted softly while looking at the creature

The monster chuckled. "While i would love to keep you, i fear that i have aggravated your friends enough, so unfortunately this will be goodbye for now, but i will be back soon, my little prey, until we meet again~!" The monster whispered to them beore giving them a kiss on the cheek and disappeared into the shadows again. Which only left Cyro in confusion but at the same time, they felt like they've fallen in love again.

After some time Pico, Boyfriend and Girlfriend found Cy, fortunately for them Cyro was okay, and the four of them darted out of the house as soon as fucking possible. Cyro never really forgot about that day ever since...

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panharmonium · 4 years ago

Photo

you can be my ride or die: a staggeringly long essay about a deceptively short appearance

(aka, pan’s personal depository of notes about prince william of ealdor.)

now that my fic is long since done and posted, i can finally transfer this monster piece of meta out of my google docs and onto my blog, where it can serve as an unasked-for, absurdly detailed, beginning-to-end analysis of my obscure fave.

(whose line ‘yeah, and i’m prince william, of ealdor’ is still the funniest damn shit i’ve ever heard and also the most shocking burn arthur has ever received; i hope he thinks of it sometimes and remembers that humility is a virtue)

(the BRISTLING DISRESPECT! the ZERO FUCKS GIVEN! i love him! please can someone else talk to arthur like this! he needs it!)

disclaimer before we begin: i wrote this over a year ago, as a character check for myself during the very early stages of working on my fic. i kept messily adding bits to it over the course of a couple weeks as i explored what i knew about this character and who i understood him to be, but at the time, i didn’t intend on posting it; it was just prep work for my own story-making. it’s still essentially just a record of my train of thought as i pieced this character together - i’ve cleaned it up a bit now and added some recent links to make it more coherent, but it was never meant to be a posted essay, just a collection of notes for myself.

be forewarned, it is more comprehensive than the things i’ve written about this character since, and it goes on for years. if you are not interested in many, many pages of super heavy in-depth musings about a character who appeared in one episode, now is the time to scroll on by. i promise i won’t mind in the slightest; i wrote this for my own purposes and don’t really expect people to read it - i’m posting it just to have it archived with the rest of my merlin stuff.

if you are interested in that sort of thing, however - hit the jump, and off we go!

i really love the episode where we meet will, though i’ve started to love it for new reasons since the first time i watched it.

the first time i watched season 1, 'the moment of truth’ was my favorite S1 episode overall, because it was the first time the Fab Four went off on an adventure together, and that was very exciting; and i also loved it because all the character stuff in that episode was so good; and i also loved it because look, all of us are suckers for that classic seven samurai plot, you know - i loved it in TCW, i loved it in the mandalorian, i loved it in merlin. not gonna get bored of ‘simple farmers defend their homes with pitchforks’ anytime soon. it is overall just a solid, self-contained plot with clear emotional arcs, and it sticks its landing well. it’s a simple, strong story.

nowadays, though, i also love it because of will.

i. will whomst?

prince william of ealdor, that’s who!

will straddles a kind of weird place in canon, because he feels like a minor character to the audience but is very much not a minor character for merlin, who has known will much longer than the brief hour we get to spend with him and who has spent his entire life with will as his sole friend.

but, because will only appears once - let’s start with a round-up. what do we actually know about him?

he’s a peasant farmer from ealdor, like merlin

his father was killed fighting for king cenred (as a foot soldier - these people are not wealthy enough or high-status enough to afford or be accepted into the knighthood)

his mother is either dead or absent

he’s painfully class conscious and doesn’t trust the nobility

he’s a “troublemaker” (the interpretation of which is...well, it’s left to the viewer’s discretion. fandom seems to jump to ‘fun mischief and pranks,’ though i personally don’t get that vibe from this episode. “troublemaker” in will’s case seems to mean more “doesn’t know how to keep his head down/can’t go along to get along to save his life.” it means when he sees something that he thinks is Wrong, he absolutely will not shut up about it even when all his neighbors are sick of him and want him to just let it go. it means he can’t stop rocking the boat even when rocking the boat makes everybody want to strangle him.)

he supplements his agricultural pursuits with carpentry. you can see in his house big piles of hewn timber along one wall, as well as a grindstone and a shaving horse, and when he comes out of his house on two separate occasions he’s holding woodworking tools (mallet, chisel, etc)

he knows about merlin’s magic - for how long this has been the case, we’re not told. it doesn’t feel like a new thing to me, but ultimately that’s guesswork.

he appears to have just one friend

that one friend is merlin

will loves merlin enough to die lying for him

merlin left will behind.

ii. it wasn’t what i wanted

so let’s talk about that.

merlin is asked “why did you leave?” twice in this episode, first by arthur and then by will. he gives completely contradictory answers to the two of them, and it’s worth remembering, before examining both responses, that one answer is inherently more honest than the other, because merlin is only able to tell the whole truth to one of these people.

so when merlin talks to arthur, it goes like this:

“why did you leave?”

“things just...changed.”

“how?”

*silence*

“come on, stop pretending to be interesting and tell me.”

“i just didn’t fit in anymore. i wanted to find somewhere I did.”

arthur has to drag this answer out of merlin, and it’s not because merlin doesn’t feel like sharing (i mean, come on, we know merlin; merlin wants to be in everybody’s business and he feeds off human connection like a starving man; he’d be thrilled that arthur was interested in his life) - the problem isn’t that he’s shy; it’s that he’s not exactly telling the truth and he’s trying to figure out how to do it in the least deceptive way possible.

i just didn’t fit in anymore. i wanted to find somewhere i did.

that’s nice.

it’s also a lie.

it’s not a total lie, of course - there’s an element of it that becomes true, after merlin gets to camelot and realizes that working for arthur is “not totally horrible all the time” - that he sort of likes the excitement, and the newness, and being somewhere where nobody knows him and nobody will judge him - but that’s the reason he stays in camelot, not the reason he leaves ealdor.

by contrast, when will asks the question, merlin gives a completely different answer:

“why did you leave?”

“it wasn’t what I wanted. mother was worried. when she found out you knew - she was so angry.”

it wasn’t what I wanted.

can we digest that for a moment?

merlin didn’t want to leave home.

not that he isn’t enjoying himself in camelot now, of course - which he conveniently doesn’t mention in this conversation, because will is upset with him and merlin feels guilty that he’s been off enjoying his new life while will has been struggling at home alone - but at the point of departure, merlin didn’t want to go.

his answer to arthur about finding a place where he belonged is certain-point-of-view bunk. he didn’t just up and decide that he wanted to run off and find a place where he fit in better. he didn’t leave because he wanted to escape a place he didn’t belong. he didn’t set off in search of adventure and a new life. it’s true that he didn’t feel like he fit in in ealdor, but that’s not what sent him packing. he left because his mother found out that will knew about his magic, and she panicked and sent him away.

iii. why did you leave

most fannish things i’ve encountered tend to interpret merlin’s departure in a much more generous light than i do, with merlin explaining to will that he’s leaving and will being unhappy about it but eventually understanding and kind of like...giving his blessing before merlin goes. this is fine, of course, but it did surprise me, when i started dipping my toes into fandom, because i never interpreted events in this episode like that, and i don’t think it’s even a plausible read, not from the conversations we’re actually given. the antipathy that accompanies merlin’s return doesn’t make sense under those circumstances, and moreover, from the way things actually unfold in this episode, we’re told, in order, the following three things:

1) the fact that will asks “why did you leave” tells us that he and merlin did not discuss it prior to the point of departure. there’s no other reason for will to ask this question. everything about will’s tone and body language in this scene indicates that he’s been stewing over this for a long time, that he doesn’t understand, that this is something profoundly difficult for him to address. and while it might be nicer to think that merlin sat down and discussed things with will before leaving for camelot, that’s not the inference we’re being asked to make here.

2) there is absolutely no way they wouldn’t have discussed it, if will had known that merlin was going to leave. like - if your only friend in the world told you they were moving to another country tomorrow, there’s no way “why?” wouldn’t be the first question you asked. there’s no way you wouldn’t have that discussion, at the most basic level, before separating. it just wouldn’t happen.

3) so, given that information, the unfortunate, inescapable conclusion is this: will didn’t know merlin was going to leave. merlin left without telling him.

everyone is free to continue to headcanon this in their own ways, of course. but this is what we’re actually being told.

iv. we don’t want your kind round here

the fact that merlin vanishes without so much as a word to his best friend goes a long way towards explaining why merlin is so uncomfortable when he first sees will in the street.

when they first encounter each other, merlin looks so apprehensive and wary, and the writers are playing it like ‘uh-oh, someone saw him use magic and now he’s nervous about it!!!’ but two seconds later, you realize that this can’t possibly be what’s causing merlin’s concern, because it’s made immediately clear that will already knows about merlin’s magic and isn’t going to say anything about it.

merlin isn’t afraid of being outed, in this scene. but he might, however, be afraid of the reception he’s going to get, given what we just discussed.

merlin just up and disappeared from home, and not so much as a letter since - we know will’s had a secondhand update, probably from hunith (“how’ve you been?! i hear you’re skivvying for some prince”) but he very clearly hasn’t had any direct contact with merlin since before merlin left.

merlin knows this was a big fuck-up. he feels guilty.

(and to be clear - i think there is a lot to be said about just how merlin’s departure unfolded, and what stopped him from getting in touch. it’s a complicated enough topic for its own piece, and it’s not quite within the scope of this essay, but suffice it to say for now that i don’t believe it stemmed from deliberate thoughtlessness or callousness on merlin’s part; it’s...deeper and more complicated than that. honestly, i think merlin looks back on this as like...the first major mistake he ever made in his life, his...original sin, sort of. and i don’t think he’s ever forgiven himself for it, either, but again, that’s a story for another day.) the point here is that merlin didn’t necessarily want to cause harm, but he knew that’s what he was doing regardless - he knew that leaving without a word was the wrong thing to do. and in this moment he feels rightfully guilty about all of it, and he’s afraid that his friend won’t welcome him home.

merlin’s moment of uncertainty is real, when will pretends to greet him with hostility. merlin is afraid that will is angry with him for leaving him behind.

(and let’s not kid ourselves, will definitely is)

it’s a festering thing that keeps boiling to the surface as we progress through the episode. it shows in the way will finally asks why did you leave, avoiding merlin’s eyes, the question laden with vulnerability. it’s in the exchange “are you going to abandon them?”/“what, like you did?” there’s real pain there, and confusion, lots of hurt feelings.

but.

despite all of that, will doesn’t freeze merlin out, when merlin comes riding back into town. merlin is rightfully afraid that will might not want to see him, afraid that “we don’t want your kind round here” might be less of a joke than it ought to be. and while all of the troubles that merlin is worried about are absolutely real and poised to cause friction later, the truth is that at that exact moment, when merlin comes walking up the road - none of it matters. will has been nursing a collection of hurt feelings for months now, yeah, but in the immediate moment, when it comes down to it - he puts them aside.

they both do. nerves, guilty thoughts, bruised feelings - they temporarily abandon all of that in favor of a momentary joy. you can see how excited they are when they reunite. how they start smiling at the same time. how they laugh their way into that hug. they’re so happy to see each other.

people get pretty worked up about ***That Time Arthur Finally Hugged Merlin!!!***, but i don’t know. i think it matters to remember that merlin had people who knew how to hold him long before arthur was even a flicker of a shadow in merlin’s mind.

v. why are you being like this

so they reunite!

and then they fight. D:

but what really matters is how they fight, because even when they’re having an argument, they never let things escalate quite to the level of interpersonal nastiness, certainly never to the level of cruelty for cruelty’s sake - just a few hard truths and a pile of hurt feelings:

“i trust arthur with my life.”

“is that so? so he knows your secret, then?”

...

“face it, merlin, you’re living a lie, just like you were here. you’re arthur’s servant, nothing more. otherwise you’d tell him the truth.”

the delivery in this scene is essential for understanding how these two interact with each other. it’s so telling. merlin and will are having an argument, and will is angry about everything we’ve already discussed, and on top of that, some prince is trying to round up a bunch of will’s neighbors for a fight that’s going to get a lot of people killed, and will sounds so sharp when he’s talking, up to and including the challenging “is that so?”

but then when he sees that he’s touched a nerve there and merlin knows he’s right, his voice drops those edges and goes gentler, regretful, like - he and merlin aren’t all hunky-dory right now, but he’s not out to rub merlin’s face in it, either. he’s not trying to “get back” at merlin for leaving him. he’s not like...happy that merlin’s situation is shitty.

vi. if i broke it (would you quit?)

we mostly only see these two in a tense season. they’re arguing with each other for almost the entire episode, and yet even in this at-odds state, there are little things that remind us of what they’re usually like - that they don’t want to be arguing, that this isn’t a natural at-rest state for them, that this isn’t what they’re used to. they butt heads, but they keep swinging around back to each other, and trying again, and trying again, and trying again. they never write each other off. they keep trying to make it work.

examples: merlin asking “why are you being like this?,” the implication being that will isn’t usually like this, that this isn’t how they usually act around each other. the two of them together in the background of arthur’s pitiful training session, coming right off the tail-end of another argument and busying themselves with their own work, but still reflexively hanging in each other’s orbit. merlin, even in the middle of a strained conversation, helping clean up the mess that the bandits made of will’s house, without asking or being asked, like it’s just the automatic, reflexive, natural thing to do. merlin using will’s proper name when discussing him with other people, but always the diminutive when they’re talking to each other. merlin following will every time will walks away; will doing the same when merlin’s the one who’s leaving. that moment up in the hedgerow, with will’s embittered “you know why,” which sets them to arguing again, except instead of it pushing them apart, it pulls them closer together - will climbs right up into the hedge where merlin is standing so they can sit next to each other and talk.

like. he’s angry! but the instinct isn’t to storm away, it’s to get closer.

i love that so much. i love how they’re starting to have another argument and merlin stands there and says “why are you being like this,” to which will, already upset, responds “you know why,” BUT -

but

will stalks up into that hedge and plops himself down right next to merlin, and merlin, without a moment’s hesitation, sits down beside him.

i love that. they’re angry with each other, but their first instinct is still to close the distance.

i wonder, sometimes, how much of that is a function of them only having each other. when you’re on the outs with someone, usually you can lean on your other friends, but what can they do? it’s different when the person you usually seek out for comfort is the same person who’s pissing you off. you don’t have anyone else to run to, so you can’t ever really storm off. you have to learn how to hash things out. you have to learn how to make it work. you have to learn not to give up on each other.

vii. she was so angry

the implied backstory for how merlin actually ended up in camelot is so painfully fascinating and, quite frankly, wrenching to think about, given how this episode eventually ends.

when will asks merlin why he left, merlin tells him, “it wasn’t what i wanted. my mother was worried. when she found out you knew - she was so angry.” this is telling us that merlin’s departure for camelot was directly preceded by his mother discovering that will knew about merlin’s magic. that is what ultimately prompted her to send merlin off to camelot. of course there would have been other contributing factors - it’s evident that merlin’s situation in ealdor has always been precarious - but her immediate reason for sending him away was the fact that she found out that will knew about merlin’s magic, and she was angry and afraid to learn that merlin had been lying to her about something that put him at risk.

“i wouldn’t have told anyone.”

“i know you wouldn’t.”

but merlin’s mother didn’t believe that, or she wouldn’t listen to him when he tried to tell her, and she shipped him off to camelot anyway, despite the fact that camelot is arguably more dangerous for merlin than ealdor ever was.

the web of how this played out is such a tangled mess. is it my fault, thinks will, before the episode even starts, desperately trying to figure out why merlin would abandon him like that. it’s my fault, thinks merlin, at the end, knowing that if he had used his magic sooner, or come back alone, events would have unfolded differently. it’s my fault, thinks hunith, realizing that the particular fear upon which she based merlin’s entire departure was utterly unfounded.

merlin doesn’t blame her for it, even though he has reason enough to be angry about it, by the end of this episode. he understands that she was just trying to protect him. but the truth of the matter is that she did make a mistake. she was afraid for him, and she saw danger everywhere, and so she made a misjudgment.

it’s the miniest of mini-arcs, but it’s there. at the end of this episode, right after will drops the Big Damn Lie, merlin looks desperately around for the only other person in the room who understands, and the camera rests on hunith’s face for one lingering moment, as she realizes what’s happening. when she’s exiting the house, there’s a shot where she pauses for a minute on her way out the door, staring back at her son's dying friend, who just offered himself up as a willing sacrifice to keep merlin’s secret safe.

she and merlin are the only people in the room who understand the real import of that moment, the real meaning of that gesture. they’re the only ones who know what’s happening, what it really means for will to say “i did it.”

hunith knows she misjudged that kid big-time.

viii. you can be my ride or die

so. will.

why am i even interested in him? what is it about this character that makes me want to write about him?

number one: i love him because he’s the only person we ever meet who cares exclusively about merlin.

everyone else merlin has met up until this point is either a) as beholden to camelot and arthur as merlin is himself, or b) aware of merlin’s “destiny,” which isn’t necessarily a bad thing but does change the way people talk to him and treat him.

it’s not that merlin doesn’t have people who care about him, but those relationships are not the same as the one he has with will. merlin is obviously #1 in his mom’s life, of course - but, importantly, even hunith’s immediate reaction to merlin’s uncertainty at the end of 1.10 is to tell him that he has to go back to camelot, that arthur needs him, that he’s “the other side of a coin.” this despite the fact that hunith has known arthur for all of five minutes and that merlin, in the moment where she talks to him, is in a lot of pain, and maybe it isn’t the most appropriate moment say, ‘hey, you absolutely must devote yourself to that guy i literally just watched lecture you about the evils of magic while attending your (supposedly magical) dead best friend’s funeral.’

and when it comes to merlin’s camelot network, well - he’s #1 in gaius’s life, too, but gaius also is deeply concerned with the greater good, with the future emergence of albion, with what merlin is meant to become and do. morgana and arthur - well, they don’t know merlin, first of all (really know him, all of him, the important bits) - they definitely like him well enough, and care about him in their way, but ultimately they’re royalty or pseudo-royalty and they have priorities that go beyond merlin, who, at the end of the day, is still a servant. gwen comes the closest to being on merlin’s level, but she doesn’t know him-know him either, and as time goes on she gets more involved with the Crown, with arthur, and with the responsibilities all of that brings. even merlin’s later friends all go on to have other missions - they absolutely all love him, but they all become knights, and they are as concerned about the well-being of the realm and the king as merlin is. even merlin HIMSELF puts arthur’s life ahead of his own - he defines his worth by how well he can protect his prince.

but will is the only person we ever meet who just cares about merlin - merlin the regular person, not the servant he pretends to be, or the legend he’s supposed to become. not the fake, non-magical merlin facade (which is what almost everyone else needs merlin to be before they can condescend to be his friend) and not some destiny-laden figure out of prophecy, either. will doesn’t know anything about destiny or prophecies. he’s never needed to know about any of that stuff to care. he’s always liked merlin. just merlin. just as he is.

that matters. all merlin ever does in this show is deny himself or be denied of the things every regular human being needs to thrive - love, acceptance, truth, safety. he constantly puts or is forced to put other priorities ahead of his own interests, to a point where now, by season five, he’s spent years defending a regime that oppresses him, protecting kings who would execute him.

will, in a display of true-to-character contrariness, upsets that entire narrative, because he does not care one whit about any of the things for which merlin is supposed to sacrifice his life. will gives less than zero (count them: negative zero) fucks about arthur pendragon, and he doesn’t care about camelot, and he wouldn’t know what “albion” meant if he heard the word. and it is refreshing - a blessed, beautiful, heartbreaking relief - to see one person in the world who only cares about merlin, for whom arthur pendragon, in comparison with merlin, isn’t the slightest bit important. arthur isn’t even on the map. he’s a non-entity. he doesn’t exist.

it’s a complete inversion of the way things are supposed to go, in this story. you know how it goes - arthur is the once and future king, and merlin’s job is to usher in his reign. "maybe that is its purpose,” gaius says, about merlin’s magic being meant to protect arthur, about merlin being born this way for that particular reason. it’s merlin’s job to save arthur’s life. it’s merlin’s job to teach arthur to be a better person, at his own expense. it’s all for arthur. i give my life for arthur’s. his life is worth a hundred of mine. what is the life of a servant compared with that of a prince?

will delivers the biggest fuck-you to that entire framework, because he doesn’t assess merlin’s worth based on what merlin can do for some random prince on the other side of the border. merlin’s magic wasn’t purposed for anything, as far as will is concerned. it doesn’t need to justify itself. it just is. it’s just who merlin is.

and who merlin is has always been just fine.

ix. am i the only one wondering who the hell this is

for will, it’s people like arthur who need to justify themselves. arthur with all of his power, arthur riding into little villages with his sword drawn, arthur and his bossing around and his “now, merlin!” conversation-interrupting. will makes no allowances for wealth and couldn’t be less interested in royalty - his frame of reference isn’t you’re the once and future king and merlin exists to prop you up; it’s who the hell are you? what gives you the right to be here? what did you do to earn what you have?

will, like gwaine after him, is acutely aware of the injustice of the reigning social system, and he’s not afraid to throw it in arthur’s face. he knows that people like himself and merlin and all of their neighbors are unjustly disadvantaged from birth until death, and he knows they’re disadvantaged solely because the people at the top of the social chain are greedy lords who sow no seed but reap all the grain, who do no work but enjoy the greatest rewards, who steal from the people with impunity and call it divine entitlement. will knows that he and merlin and all of their neighbors are considered no better than plow-beasts or war-fodder, and he knows that there is absolutely nothing they can do to stop the nobility from either taxing them into starvation or sending them off to die in a ditch - which makes him impossibly angry, and, unlike everybody else in his village, he’s not shy about saying so.

will is, at this point, literally the first non-villain to look at arthur and not immediately see some messianic pinnacle of human greatness - which is refreshing, to be honest, and fair enough besides! he’s evaluating arthur from merlin’s side of things, after all, which nobody - including merlin - ever does, and while i love arthur as much as anybody - for the people’s hero that he could be, and for what he is, sometimes, if not frequently enough - the truth is that he’s not good for all of his people, not yet, and he’s not good for merlin, not the way things stand right now.

will knows that. he looks at arthur and sees a guy with a lot of power, who also happens to rule over the the least magic-friendly place in the five kingdoms, to whom merlin needs to lie in order to avoid the executioner’s block, and he sees merlin deluding himself into thinking that this supremely unequal, extremely unsafe situation counts as friendship.

now, is will’s assessment of the situation a snap judgment based on personal encounters with an unjust social system and very limited knowledge of arthur as a person? yes, definitely. are there nuances to merlin and arthur’s relationship that he’s missing? absolutely.

is he wrong?

not really. and merlin knows it.

x. friends don’t lord it over one another!

i think about that line every damn episode.

over and over again, it comes back to me. i hear it every time arthur gets On His Shit and invokes power he pretends not to have, every time i see more evidence of how this supposed “friendship” between him and merlin is inherently imbalanced. it’s my favorite thing will says in all of 1.10, because it is so true and yet, most of the time, so unacknowledged as a dynamic.

we’re meant to love arthur and merlin together, and we do - i do; i do; when i see those moments that approach true mutual respect and care between them i am as swept up by the potential beauty of this friendship as anyone - but i still think about this line all the time. it’s not right, the power dynamic between the two of them. it’s not just about servants vs. royalty, though of course that’s a structural part of how it plays out. it’s about the fact that, in a real friendship, one person can’t just whip out “you ever say anything like that again, and i swear you’ll join her in exile forever” to shut down a conversation and cow you into silence. one person can’t just throw you in jail to spend a night “cooling off,” and they definitely can’t arrest you whenever someone levels a random accusation at you. in a real friendship, it’s not one person who has all the power.

but when it comes to arthur and merlin, that’s exactly what happens. arthur gets to decide when he and merlin are and aren’t friends. arthur gets to call merlin in or send him away. arthur gets to make all the decisions about when to listen, when to ignore, when to trust, when to believe. merlin can nudge, encourage, suggest, even defy, but ultimately, when you get right down to it, arthur is the king, and merlin is his servant, a dynamic which is compounded by the deadly particulars of merlin’s situation. the relationship isn’t unequal solely because of a difference in social class, it’s unequal because arthur literally has the power of life and death over merlin. arthur could (and would, as far as merlin knows) have merlin executed any day of the week, if he found out who merlin really was.

that’s why when merlin tries to tell will that arthur is his friend, will snaps, “friends don’t lord it over one another!” it’s not that you can’t care about someone who has more power than you, and it’s not that you can’t have some kind of relationship with them, but it is not real friendship if you think your “friend” will kill you when they find out who you really are. it is not a real friendship if you have to pretend to be someone you’re not in order to preserve the relationship. real friends don’t leverage impossible amounts of power to shut you up when you say something they don’t want to hear. real friends don’t say things like “you’ll be a friend for life if you do [x thing]” to convince you to lie to their dad while they go out with a girl and thus get you clapped in the stocks three times in a row, and then turn around and show their appreciation by letting people raid and ransack your house multiple times, throwing you in jail at least twice, accusing (and once nearly executing!) your loyal long-serving mentor more than once - among innumerable other issues. real friends aren’t “you’re my friend when i need you to be, but not when it’s inconvenient.” they don’t have the kind of power to turn things on and off whenever they want.

i love that will is the only person who ever acknowledges this, across five seasons of this show. i love that he spits it out immediately, without hesitation, the minute merlin tries to makes things sound better than they are. i love that he says it unapologetically, to merlin’s face, because he says it for merlin’s sake, after all - the point of saying ‘friends don’t lord it over one another’ is to say ‘that guy doesn’t appreciate you the way you appreciate him/this isn’t reciprocal and he’s taking advantage of you/this isn’t the friendship you want it to be and i don’t like seeing you settle for this.’ will is that friend who watches you interact with someone and then later gets in your business like ‘EXCUSE ME! I DO NOT LIKE HOW HE TALKS TO YOU! I DON’T LIKE HOW HE TREATS YOU!'

will knows that merlin deserves better than arthur pendragon, even when merlin himself won’t concede that point. merlin won’t advocate for himself, so will tries to do it for him. merlin can try to convince himself that arthur is a real friend all he wants, but will knows what’s up. he knows. he knows where this is going, if merlin’s relationship with arthur is allowed to continue on exactly as-is. will knows, from the very beginning, that this is a recipe for disaster.

[addendum 2020: speaking from a post season-5 perspective...will understood where merlin and arthur were headed long before even we the audience did.]

xi. friends don’t lord it over one another [reprise]

you know what real friends do do for each other, though?

a) listen - even when they don’t like what the other person is saying

b) care - even when they’re angry

that’s it. that’s what matters.

we don’t need more than an hour of watching will and merlin onscreen together to see that this is how they interact with each other. they’re arguing for most of this episode, and they’re both right, in different ways, but by the time they’ve had it out with one another, they both understand where their own arguments were wrong, too. they listen to each other despite the fact that they’re angry, and despite the fact that they both have very strong feelings about their respective positions. they care enough about each other to look past their personal injuries and accept where the other person is coming from.

merlin starts off this episode absolutely dead-set against using his magic to help ealdor, if there’s any chance arthur could find out about it. but later, before he and will have even officially reconciled onscreen, we can already see that he’s been listening to what will’s been saying, that he’s come around to will’s way of thinking, because he tells his mother “if it comes down to a choice between revealing who i truly am and saving lives - that’s no choice at all,” hearkening back to will’s “are you telling me you’d rather keep your magic a secret for arthur’s sake than use it to protect your friends and family?” and: “if arthur doesn’t accept me for who i am...well...then he’s not the friend i hoped he was” (you’re arthur’s servant, nothing more. otherwise you’d tell him the truth.)

merlin has been listening the whole time, even if he didn’t like what will was saying.

and the same goes for will, too. he’s (understandably!) bitter about merlin’s situation, about the way merlin left, about the new life merlin built for himself while will was suffering in a confused limbo of abandonment at home - and will also obviously thinks the Farmers’ Resistance is a total disaster, a noble-spun farce that’s going to get good people killed - but even though he doesn’t trust the camelot contingent and couldn’t give fewer shits about prince arthur pendragon specifically, he trusts merlin. he listens to merlin, even though they’ve been fighting. he comes back because merlin keeps telling him it’s the right thing to do.

they both listen, even when it seems like they’re just arguing with each other. and they both acknowledge where the other person was right, even when it means making themselves vulnerable. will comes back to help his neighbors fight a battle against hopeless odds. merlin exposes his magic to save people’s lives.

they teach each other how to do the right thing. they make each other brave.

xii. you just saved my life

let’s talk about being brave, then.

this kid jumps in front of a crossbow for a guy he doesn’t even like.

can we be clear about that? will doesn’t even LIKE arthur. he doesn’t particularly care about him. he doesn’t accept him as the noble savior of all mankind. he isn’t interested in defending the nobility, and he certainly hasn’t jumped on the camelot bandwagon. just because he’s seen that arthur wasn’t planning on sending them all to their deaths without risking his own neck doesn’t mean will is suddenly going to start flying the pendragon crest from atop his house.

but he isn’t going to step back and let a coward shoot another man in the back, either.

arthur’s still a prince, yeah. arthur’s still sitting at the tip-top of an unjust social system, benefitting from all kinds of privileges he didn’t earn. arthur’s still a crappy friend to merlin. heck, two seconds before that crossbow gets fired, arthur’s gone full-on inquisition-mode, interrogating merlin about sorcery, which, given that arthur can just go ahead and have merlin executed with a snap of his fingers, isn’t a great way to earn will’s respect or trust.

but you know what? when it comes down to it, will’s automatic, reflexive reaction upon seeing someone in immediate danger is to Get In The Way.

it doesn’t matter that will doesn’t like arthur. it doesn’t even matter that he actively dislikes arthur. will doesn’t even think about it, he just moves. instinctively. automatically. he isn’t going to let anyone standing right in front of him get murdered with their back turned, no matter how much he can’t stand them.

let’s all take a second to remember and acknowledge something in arthur’s stead, since i’m not sure arthur will do it himself - arthur pendragon would have been dead right there if it weren’t for a dirt-poor peasant farmer from cenred’s kingdom who never had anything nice to say to a prince but still stepped between a pendragon and a crossbow in the name of doing the right thing. without will, the story would have ended in season 1, episode 10. albion itself owes its future existence to a young man with no surname who will never be acknowledged or recognized for anything he did, not for teaching the future king a lesson in humility, not for saving the prince’s life, and certainly not for the greatest and most noble move he ever made, because that gesture’s success is predicated upon its remaining a secret.

this kid saves the entire World That Will Be. the show would have ended before it ever really began, if not for our man prince william of ealdor.

merlin knows that, and merlin never forgets it. but i’m not so sure about everyone else.

xiii. yeah, don’t know what i was thinking

let’s talk about defiance.

this kid is dying, and he’s still full of piss and vinegar. when arthur says, wide-eyed, “you’re a sorcerer,” will responds, “yeah. what are you going to do, kill me?”

what a power move. what a thing to say.

that’s not a question. that is a no-fucks-given, shame-and-blame challenge.

what are you going to do, kill me?

merlin uses those exact same words during his confrontation with morgana in 3.02. when he’s trapped - when he’s cornered and betrayed and angry - he reaches for the kind of defiance he once saw exercised on his own behalf, for a shameless bravery that burned itself into his brain. for the kind of strength he wants to channel himself.

when it comes to holding your ground in front of the pendragon dynasty, merlin learned from the best.

xiv. and i’m prince william, of ealdor

let’s talk about names.

william: from wil (will or determination) and helm (protection, a helm)

hence the common translation of resolute protector.

which, given the events of 1.10, seems very fitting.

xv. i did it

let’s talk about lies.

because resolute protector rings even more powerfully true when it comes to merlin than it does for arthur.

at the time of this writing, i have four more episodes to watch before i’m done with season 5. at this point, at the end of the show, merlin’s magic is still a secret. merlin’s gotten involved in a lot of dangerous situations, risking his life in other ways, but the one danger he’s never had to really confront is the executioner’s block, because none of the pendragons know his secret.

and the reason none of the pendragons know his secret is thanks to our boy prince william of ealdor, who turns his own untimely death into a last-second rescue operation by telling the Biggest Damn Lie of his life and then doubling down on it when merlin tries to tell him no.

will is the one who secures merlin’s next five years of relative safety. not from all of life’s dangers, of course; no one can do that - but when it comes to merlin’s greatest fear, the worst outcome, the prospect of being dragged out of his home in chains and murdered in front of an ogling crowd for just existing - will buys merlin’s escape from that fate with his life. merlin remains hidden and unexposed to this very day because will died protecting his secret, because will lied to the prince of magic-hunting and invited upon himself all of the risk and scorn and danger and condemnation that a false confession like that entailed.

i honestly don’t know how to express clearly enough the enormity of that moment. the momentousness of that gesture. i called it a bold and tremendous lie in some other post somewhere, and i don’t know how else to capture what it was. the thought of what it would mean, to be merlin, and to see someone throw themselves on the block for your sake, for your safety and your future and your freedom, when the rest of the world and every message you’ve ever absorbed says you don’t deserve to be safe, you don’t deserve to be free, you don’t deserve to exist.

it is impossible to overstate how much that matters. merlin carries that with him for the rest of his life.

xvi: i can’t fight you anymore (it’s you i’m fighting for)

let’s talk about love, okay?

this ep is called the moment of truth, right?

so here are some truths about will. in the time that we spend with him, we come to understand that he is the following:

a poor peasant kid with nothing to his name

a kid whose father is dead

a kid whose mother is either dead or absent

a kid who “people are used to ignoring”

a kid who’s been making his own way through this backbreaking subsistence-farmer’s life with no grown-ups to hold him or help him or listen to him when he comes home at night

a kid who isn’t trusted to protect merlin’s secret, even by merlin’s own mother, whom will has known for his entire life

a kid whose only friend in the world fucked off to the country next door without a hint of warning or any indication that it was something that should matter to either one of them, making will think he misread the only meaningful relationship he’s ever had, because if merlin can just vanish to nowhere and not even bother to send a note, then either merlin wasn’t actually his friend to begin with or merlin was his friend at one time but doesn’t want to be anymore, both of which options are soul-crushing

a closed-off, heavily-armored, hurting kid who’s been unspeakably lonely for the past few months but also angry and ashamed at himself for feeling that way, because how stupid did he have to be, to think that he mattered to someone, that someone would ever want him or love him or need him or miss him, to think that this time would be different, that this time somebody wouldn’t leave him -

and even in this state - even in the midst of all this -

at the moment of truth, he still puts himself on the chopping block. he still says, “you’ll have to go through me.”

he comes through for merlin. of course he does. the irony is bitter and beautiful - hunith sent merlin away precisely because she didn’t trust that merlin would be safe with will knowing about his magic, but in the end it’s will who gives up everything to keep merlin’s secret concealed.

not just to keep it concealed, even - to reverse merlin being outed. merlin had already been exposed. the deed was done! the magic was seen! it was all over - and then, miraculously, it wasn’t. what will did was the only way merlin could ever have slipped safely back under the cover of secrecy.

will didn’t have to do that. he didn’t have to lie about performing magic, and he didn’t have to save arthur, either. it would have been better for will to let arthur die, in fact, and it would have been better for him to let merlin get caught, too, because ‘maybe then merlin would have to stay here with me’ - but will is so much better than petty revenge. he’s so much better than anybody ever gives him credit for, merlin excepted.

the fight will has with merlin doesn’t matter to him, in the end. it was a complicated situation for both of them; will knows this. if he weren’t dying now, he and merlin would have talked it out and made up - will knows that, too. things could have gone a little smoother between them, maybe, and will still thinks going back to camelot is less than what merlin deserves, but it’s what merlin wants, and the mark of truly loving someone is when you want the best for them, even if it means you don’t get what you want for yourself. so ultimately, when it comes down to it, the truth for will is this: he wants merlin to have a good life. he wants merlin to be safe. he wants merlin to be happy. he wants merlin to be with him, too, but if he can’t have that, it’s no reason to withhold any of the other gifts he can bestow. if one of those gifts is freedom, if one of those gifts is safety - it’s no choice at all.

merlin is will’s one good thing. merlin deserves everything will can give him, as far as will is concerned.

xvii. the only place worth being

this place has been boring without you.

what a thing to tell someone.

what a powerful thing to say to someone whose entire life up to this point has been a litany of ‘there’s something wrong with you,’ ‘you don’t belong here,’ ‘you’re cursed/broken/wrong/unnatural.’ what a dauntlessly loving thing to tell someone whose entire life has been the message ‘people like you deserve to die,’ over and over and over again.

what a singularly beautiful thing it is, for someone like merlin to hear ‘you are what makes this place worth living in.’

xviii: the only one worth seeing

likewise it’s good to see you again.

because it’s not just “it’s good to see you again;” it’s an acknowledgement that merlin is the last person will is ever going to see.

and will is like, okay.

he’d rather be alive, yeah, but if he had choose - it’s good that it’s you.

xix: the only bed worth sleeping in (is the one right next to you)

the most devastating moment in this sequence, for me, is at the very end, when will confesses fear.

it doesn’t happen until everything else has been taken care of. arthur’s been fooled, merlin’s been safely shuffled back under the cover of secrecy, everybody’s been taken in by the ruse and sent away, none the wiser - all the necessary and important business has been dealt with.

only at the very, very end does will’s own predicament rear its ugly head. only after everything else is done does he even allow himself to feel it. he’s spent the rest of this sequence making jokes and roasting arthur and keeping it all together, but at the last second, when he falters, he comes undone for the only person he trusts, the only person who understands him, the only person in the world who gives a damn about him. his defenses come down, in that last moment, for merlin - and it could ONLY be for merlin - when will says, “merlin, i’m scared.”

we don’t need anything else, to understand their relationship. we’ve seen enough of will by now to recognize that he keeps the world at arm’s length, that even his walls have walls, that this is just not the sort of thing he would ever admit to. confessions of pain? acknowledging vulnerability? never. he’s not that kind of character. we know he has a big heart - look at what he’s doing - but we also know he’s had a hard life. he’s wrapped himself in layers upon layers of protection - snark and anger and deflection and sarcasm and still making jokes at the prince’s expense after being shot in the chest - nobody is allowed to see him open and undefended, never.

except merlin.

will is dying. he is so young. he has been so alone, for so much of his life, and he’s so young, and he’s dying. he clutches for this lifeline like it’s the only thing he has, because it is the only thing he has - merlin is his only friend. merlin is the person will loves best in the whole world.

merlin, i’m scared.

that is so unbelievably vulnerable. that is so utterly naked. that is totally defenseless, exposed, belly-up and barethroated under someone else’s burning gaze.

that is absolute trust. will would never have said that in front of anyone else. he would never have allowed anyone else to see him like that.

his confession is, like pretty much everything else he ever does, for merlin alone.

xx. your heart is on my sleeve

merlin, will keeps repeating. merlin.

how much do you have to love someone, to make their name your last words? how much do you have to care about someone, for that to be the only thing you can think to say, again and again, in your last terrified moments on this earth?

that’s a rhetorical question.

i know how much.

xxi: i missed you too

i think, sometimes, about will, when i watch the later seasons of merlin, and about how he would feel if he could see what merlin’s life has turned into.

i sometimes wonder how he would feel, if he could see how merlin allows himself to be passed over, disbelieved, disrespected. if he could see how merlin has started to define his worth in terms of how well he is able to protect Some Dude who doesn’t even know who merlin is, who keeps people like merlin trapped in the shadows of subjugation, hidden citizens in their own kingdom. if will could see how merlin has laid his entire life down for other people’s enrichment, if he could see how little hope merlin now holds for his own happiness, if he could see the way merlin in S5 has given up on his own liberation -

i don’t have to guess what will would say about it. i know how he would feel. if will could see merlin in season 5, his raging little heart would break.

i wish he were here to tell merlin exactly what he thought about it. merlin does all this self-sacrificing for the sake of his “destiny”; whereas will would think that any destiny making merlin this miserable was a steaming pile of trash. will would tell kilgharrah to get lost, and to take his questionable advice with him. will would tell arthur to fuck off - he’s done it already, in slightly less explicit terms.

does that mean i truly think merlin is supposed to abandon his mission and ditch camelot and run off to live his own life? no. merlin cares too much about making the world a better place to be truly happy with that kind of existence; he wants to change things for the common good; he wants to help the people he cares about. but merlin, as he tries to fulfill his mission, is desperately missing will’s kind of support in his life. merlin needs someone who is only here for him. he needs someone who is going to get up in his face and remind him, “you matter.” he needs someone to tell him, “you deserve better than this.” he needs someone who isn’t afraid to tell destiny to fuck off, when telling destiny to fuck off is in merlin’s best interests.

merlin needs someone who is on his side.

not camelot’s side. not albion’s side. not arthur’s side.

HIS side. merlin’s side.

xxii: he still is

the thing about will, then, for me, is this: i can’t minimize him.

i can’t do it. i can’t diminish that part of merlin’s life.

i don’t think it’s possible to overestimate his importance, frankly. merlin, when we meet him, has only ever had two people in his life. that is such an...unfathomable experience, for many of us. just two people. just two people to know you. just two people to love you. just two people, for your whole life.

will wasn’t just some friend. will was half of merlin’s world.

fannish pursuits that i have seen...the things where will appears are already so limited, and of course that’s completely understandable - it’s not like he’s a main character, or even a side character, by any means; i totally get that. but - so much of what i see is him serving solely as a set-up for merlin/arthur, or otherwise being shoved out of the way as soon as arthur shows up on the scene, or showing up only to be a receptacle for discussion about arthur and merlin’s developing relationship - even will and merlin’s own ship tag is 90% merlin/arthur fics.

and there’s nothing wrong with this, ultimately; everybody should continue to write exactly what they want and enjoy exactly what they want; that’s the fun of fandom. i mention these things here only because for me, personally, the whole point of will’s character is that merlin’s life is bigger than just arthur. the most important relationship merlin had for most of his life had zip-zero-nothing to do with arthur pendragon, and it still has zip-zero-nothing to do with arthur pendragon, after will is dead.

you remember will’s funeral at the end of 1.10? arthur has an entire conversation (a horrible one, fyi) with merlin, and merlin doesn’t look at him once. he answers arthur’s questions because he has to, but his eyes never once leave the pyre in front of him - not while he’s listening, not while he’s talking, not once. not ever. arthur comes, arthur chastises, and arthur goes, all without being granted so much as a glance, because this isn’t about him. this is none of his business.

the whole point of will is that it is possible for someone to love merlin and not give a tinker’s cuss about arthur pendragon. the whole point of will is that having someone love merlin without caring about arthur pendragon is, in fact, a good thing. merlin needs somebody like that in his life. he struggles when he doesn’t have someone like this around to advocate for him. just look at where he is in season 5 - look at what his life has become, when it’s been years since he had an in-the-know friend.

merlin suffers when he loses this kind of support. it’s easy to say that will is never mentioned again after 1.10, but there are real reasons why merlin wouldn’t be willing to explicitly mention him, and the lack of explicit references doesn’t mean we can’t still see him, if we pay attention. we see the immediate impact of his death in merlin’s attitude shift in 1.11. we see him in 2.02, when merlin names his fake tournament knight sir william and spends the rest of the episode roasting arthur to within an inch of his life. we see him in the season 3 opener, when morgana levels her sword at merlin and the first thing that pops out of merlin’s mouth is “what are you going to do, kill me?” we see him in gwaine’s intro episode, when merlin immediately cleaves to this class-conscious ‘people get sick of me too quickly’ stranger whose father was killed fighting one of the king’s wars. and his absence is felt, more generally (as is lancelot’s) in how quickly merlin’s life starts to spiral out of control once the only two honest friends he ever had are gone. their loss doesn’t have to be explicitly referenced for us to understand that merlin, without that kind of support system, is faltering. we see it happening with our own eyes.

[edit, post-viewing-of-S5-finale: and we see where it eventually leads, too.]

so, once again, as i said - i can’t minimize this character. i can’t overstate the positive impact of merlin having somebody who was here for him and only him, who affirmed merlin’s value independently of arthur pendragon’s fate, who knew and loved merlin without caring about a “destiny” that ultimately, in the end, turned out to be a cruel joke made at merlin’s expense.

if will had lived, i’m not sure we would have ended up in quite so dark a place. we might have landed in some other tight spot, sure, but i can tell you one thing for certain - will would not have sat quietly by and allowed merlin to throw his life away, not for camelot, not for arthur, and certainly not for a parade of empty promises.

xxiii: where you are, there i’ll be

the bottom line is this.

merlin spent the first two decades of his life with one friend.

one.

loved by one friend.

one.

merlin had his mother, who was there for him from the beginning, whose love was unconditional, who was an “of course.”

and he had will, who chose merlin, who kept choosing merlin even after merlin told him the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Secret. will’s presence in merlin’s life is the only reason merlin grows up believing himself to be deserving of love from people who aren’t his own mother. his presence in merlin’s life is the only reason merlin knows how to have and be a friend. his presence in merlin’s life is the only reason merlin is who he is - a merlin who’d spent his entire life without a single friend would not have been the same confident, optimistic, gregarious person who later walked into camelot and told arthur pendragon, “i’d never have a friend who could be such an ass.”

will mattered. we don’t talk about him much, because he only appeared in one episode, but it wasn’t “one episode” for merlin; it was closer to twenty years of companionship, of elbows in ribcages and smirks exchanged across the room and someone to natter on at, a person to sit next to and walk beside, in every season and all sorts of weather.

will chose merlin, and he kept right on choosing him, until he breathed his very last breath. that is enough for me to love him, to feel grateful that he existed. i don’t care how rough he is around the edges. i don’t care that he hates arthur pendragon’s guts, that he has a big mouth, that he speaks out of turn, that he has no tact, that he can’t suffer fools, that he has a chip on his shoulder the size of a minor planetoid and wings it at people’s heads when the mood is on him.

he loved merlin. actual, magical merlin; merlin as he truly is, merlin in all his gifted, unnatural, beautiful imperfection.

that is a desperately rare thing. that is worth celebrating.

#the once and future slowburn #no kings no masters #meta #<3

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lillupon · 4 years ago

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So, I've got a very long rant/opinion here and Idk really know how to say this without coming off kinda bad but I'm gonna say it anyways. I agree with the fact that the seventeen tag has been kinda dry lately on most fanfic places, but it's really only in the smut area. It's the sane way with other groups too I feel like. All of the nice little innocent tags are boomin to this day and thats completely fine. I think the smut tag is dry tho bc lately I feel like a few social issues (like sexualizing people and disrespecting them and their identity) have crossed over into kpop and have been ?blown out of proportion? Lately there's been a rampage of people who like to say that writing smut about someone is disgusting and is dehumanizing because people want to assume that it would make the idols uncomfortable which could equate to some morality issues on how you are reducing someone only to their body without their consent and a bunch of stuff like that. It kind of pisses me off bc this is fiction. About grown adults. Clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life. I think a shit ton is wrong with the world we currently live in, and deciding to come after something that isn't even real bothers me. Like what does that actually accomplish. But yeah, I think thats a reason why smut has been dying down. I mean, on youtube almost every video about unpopular opinions, or things they dont like about kpop will include something about shipping idols in fanfics. And then everyone in the comment section will talk about how its all fine and dandy in moderation, but once people start writing smut it's crossing the idols personal boundaries. It's something I've been seeing a lot more often and I think people who are interested in writing smut are being turned away from it bc we've gotten to a point where people are being called disgusting for having fantasies.

Hi Anon, thank you for sending in this Ask.

I want to preface this by saying: when I write or talk about Mingyu and Wonwoo fucking on my blog, it is a fantasy. I am not speculating about what the real Mingyu and Wonwoo might be like in bed. I am imagining the versions of Mingyu and Wonwoo that I have created in my head, that exist only in my stories. None of it is real. I understand that this can be a blurry boundary for some people. But for me, the separation between fantasy and reality is well-defined. Now, on to your Ask!

You’ve hit the nail on the head with this one. You’ve also touched on many of the issues I have been struggling with myself as of late. It’s difficult to argue about morals since everyone has a different set of values, as well as different comfort levels. Some people think real person fiction (RPF) is a gross invasion of privacy. Others are fine with it. And others don’t care one way or another. There is no single answer; I can only offer my answer. Which means, of course, people are welcome to disagree with it, or parts of it.

In this essay (LOL But forreal: this is an essay), I will be sharing my experience in the k-pop fanfic community from 2014 to present, the etiquette I personally abide by as a reader and writer of RPF, as well as my stance on RPF in general.

I started reading and posting fanfics back in 2014/2015 on a website called AsianFanfics (AFF). Obviously, no one on that site had a problem with RPF, since AFF is a platform made specifically for sharing stories about Asian celebrities. For many years, I read and enjoyed RPF with zero guilt. I scribbled away by myself in my own corner of fandom and curated my own content. I didn’t interact much with other fans, readers, or writers. I didn’t have a Twitter, and I only used tumblr to reblog memes. As a result, I’ve been able to avoid a lot of anti-shipping discourse, as well as purity and cancel culture. I had no idea there were so many negative opinions about RPF. It wasn’t until I became active on the subreddit r/Fanfiction last year that I learned about all the discourse surrounding RPF.

This newfound ‘awareness’ does make me feel guilty at times—but only because after mulling this over, I still don’t think this is something to feel guilty about.

Here’s what I remember, first and foremost, when I create and consume RPF: fanfics and my favourite ships are fictional, and fiction is fantasy. This is basic etiquette when it comes to RPF, and most people in the k-pop fandom understand this. Delusional fans exist, of course, but they are not representative of the entire k-pop community.

Another point of etiquette is to keep fanfics within fandom spaces. I would never push my fics into celebrities’ faces, or go around claiming that my fanfics are accurate representations of a k-idol’s life or personality, in any way, shape, or form. I would also discourage directing ship-related questions to official accounts, or bringing them up during fansigns or other face-to-face interactions; I believe that in these instances, shipping does have the potential to strain real-life relationships.

So with basic etiquette out of the way, let me share my approach to RPF in general.

As much as we like to think we know our favourite celebrities, we really don’t. All we see is their public persona. And this public persona is intentionally controlled, managed, and curated by a team of people: directors, tabloids, editors, makeup artists, publicists, etc. How “real” are these celebrities? We are so distanced from them that they may as well be fictional.

I draw from the public persona that idols project, and I work them into my own writing. But at the end of the day, these personalities are my own interpretation. My interpretation is probably nothing like an idol’s actual personality. I just use the “public persona/character” that idols portray as inspiration for my own stories, which are set in wildly different universes.

More than anything, I think of k-pop idols as “actors” in my fic. You know how when you write an original novel, you scroll through Google images, looking for the perfect person to portray your original character? RPF is literally that, except you might build upon pre-existing dynamics and personalities.

When it comes to explicit fanfiction, two main concerns are prevalent: one of consent, and one of sexualisation.

If we argue against explicit RPF due to lack of consent, we should be willing to apply the same lens to all explicit works. How do we know that the creator of a movie, book, series, etc., is okay with us using their characters in our stories, explicit or not? We don’t. Perhaps some creators encourage fanfiction, but don’t want their lovingly crafted characters engaging in sexual acts or experiencing trauma. We just don’t know. I feel this line is even more blurred when we talk about characters from movies or TV series.

Let’s take Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, as portrayed by Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan, from the Captain America movies as an example. I am willing to bet that when people consume and create explicit fanfiction about Steve and Bucky, they are imagining Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan in their heads. I doubt many people are imagining the 2D cartoon versions of Steve and Bucky, even though they’re technically the exact same characters. Why? Well, it could be because movies are more readily and easily consumed than comics, and so people are unfamiliar with comic book Steve and Bucky. But it might also be because fans find Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan attractive. Is this really any different from RPF, where fic authors make up everything about a celebrity’s life?

When readers and writers of fanfic talk about how hot Steve Rogers or Bucky Barnes is, those comments are about Chris Evans and Sebastian Stan’s bodies. When reading explicit stories, fans are going to picture Chris and Sebastian’s bodies in their head, doing sexual things. Can we say, “Well, it’s not really you, Chris/Sebastian”, when in a way, it is?

The reality is, people are going to thirst over celebrities, regardless of whether or not explicit fanfiction exists. They’re going to post thirst tweets on Twitter. They’re going to talk to friends and strangers online about how hot [insert celebrity name here] is. They’re going to fantasize about dating and having sex with their favourite celebrity. Or, as it is in my case, they’re going to make up stories in their heads about their favourite idols dating and banging each other. People are going to do all of this without ‘getting consent’ from the celebrity. Cracking down upon and shaming writers of RPF isn’t going to change any of that.

To be honest, I’m not sure why people think it is disgusting to imagine sexual scenarios about real people. It is okay and normal to have these kinds of fantasies. I suppose the alternative is to fantasise about having sex with cartoon characters instead? It’s a very binary way of thinking to say that if you imagine/write real people in explicit scenarios, you are immediately sexualising, dehumanising, or objectifying them. There is more to dehumanisation than writing smut about our favourite celebrities. For one thing, you can love someone and appreciate all parts of them, and still want to fuck their brains out. And generally, fanfics come from a place of love—love that is not only sexual in nature.

Is it the sharing aspect inherent to fanfiction? The possibility that a celebrity might stumble upon explicit works about them? The chances are very low, I think, of the k-pop idols I enjoy writing about coming across my English fics. But I also believe in curating your own content, and that applies to celebrities too. Perhaps a celebrity should not go searching for fanfics about themselves. And of course, people should not show celebrities their fanfics, unless invited.

Another argument I hear against (explicit) RPF is, “How would you feel if someone wrote fanfiction about you?” First off, I don’t like this argument because there’s a difference between someone who decides to be a public figure versus someone who decides to remain a regular private citizen. Celebrities should and do know what they’re getting into when they choose their occupation. (This is not to say, “They are celebrities; sexualise them all you want because that’s what they signed up for.” Here, I am only acknowledging that people might have sexual fantasies about celebrities they are attracted to. Presumably, celebrities are cognizant of this.)

If someone (whose existence I am not even aware of, mind you) decides they want to write explicit fanfiction of me in some tiny corner of the Internet, I wouldn’t care so long as: (1) they don’t shove it into my face, and (2) they don’t harass me and ask invasive questions about my personal life and relationships. It’s not hurting me or negatively affecting my life, so it wouldn’t even register as a blip on my radar. When fanfiction remains within its appropriate spaces, it is largely harmless.

Now, if a k-pop idol were to ask their fans to stop writing fanfiction about them, would I? Yes, I would. However, I can’t imagine that happening. Judging by the number of ‘sexy’ concepts, fanservice moments, and variety shows such as ‘We Got Married’, I am certain that k-pop idols realise they are the stars of many fantasies—some of which are explicit in nature. Considering the prevalence of shipping in the k-pop industry, I would argue that shipping is subtly encouraged.

It’s sad that so many talented writers are shamed out of fandom, or feel that k-pop cannot be the medium through which they tell their stories, or explore their sexuality, or cope with trauma, or simply have fun. Professional works and Hollywood love their RPF—readers and writers of fanfics should be able to, as well.

As you said Anon, “clamping down on horny people who simp over hot asian men isn't going to solve the issues we face in real life” (this is a lovely sentence, by the way). The kind of person who dehumanises another and reduces them to a sexual object will do so some other way, if not via fanfiction. I don’t think the issue of fetishisation can be fixed simply by telling people not to write explicit RPF. In my experience, people who read and write RPF are more respectful and thoughtful about these things than the general public. We’ve all seen the general public say highly sexual things about celebrities in the media and to their faces, or tag celebrities in their thirst tweets. Are these things less invasive than fanfiction? Personally, I don’t think so. And in my opinion, there are more pressing and damaging issues in stan culture than fanfic.

In conclusion, I don’t think there is anything wrong with creating and consuming RPF, both explicit and non-explicit so long as we:

Remember we are writing fiction

Keep RPF within its appropriate space, and

Do not harass celebrities about their personal lives and relationships

RPF is not for everyone. There may be people who enjoy RPF, but draw the line at explicit stories. This is fine. Everyone has their own personal preferences. What is not fine, however, is attacking people for creating things you don’t like. I’m not sure what kind of moral crusade people are on and what they hope to achieve by shaming writers of RPF, explicit or otherwise. Ultimately, fic authors are writing a fantasy. It’s not real; no one is being hurt. I think it’s important for people to curate their own content, and AO3 makes it very easy to filter out explicit works and unwanted tags.

Maybe this is me trying to justify my own participation in explicit RPF—I don’t know. What I do know is that I love k-pop, and fandom is an important part of my media and entertainment experience. I adore the k-pop idols I write about, and I just want to imagine them being happy and getting lots of love and orgasms. Let a bitch be horny, goddamn…

Some bonus fun facts!

At the time I am writing this, on AO3:

26.2% of Stray Kids fanfics are rated M or E

26.3% of Seventeen fanfics are rated M or E

29.0% of Merlin fanfics are rated M or E

34.9% of Captain America (Movies) fanfics are rated M or E

40.1% of BTS fanfics are rated M or E ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Coincidentally, I saw this post on Reddit this morning: Can we have a RPF positivity post?

#asks #my writing #fic & fandom #I keep coming back to fiddle and add things to this answer #but I think I've said all I wanted to now...

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carewyncromwell · 4 years ago

Text

((Previously on “Quest for the Quidditch Cup…))

As per Chiara’s instructions, Carewyn spent the next two days in the Hospital Wing, chugging down three different kinds of Healing Potions every four hours to mend the damage caused by Erika Rath’s Bludger. Although the Wiggenweld Potions were pleasant enough, the other two were considerably less so, with one tasting like undiluted vinegar and the other feeling like it was burning Carewyn’s throat every time she ingested it. Despite this, Carewyn tried her very hardest not to complain -- Chiara had more than enough on her plate already trying to take care of the entire castle in Madame Pomfrey’s absence, and she felt rather guilty for giving her more work to do.

The Inter-House Quidditch Cup ceremony was scheduled for Monday evening, just after dinner. The weekend after the Quidditch Final had been very rainy, as if the bad weather had been waiting patiently for the match to finish before it thoroughly drenched the grounds. By early Monday morning, the rain had faded away to a drizzle so light that you’d likely taste the moisture in the air before physically feeling it.

Before dawn that morning, like all other mornings, Orion Amari was alone at the Quidditch Pitch. Since it was no longer storming outside, he was able to properly fly around the pitch, rather than simply stick to his usual exercises and meditation while balancing on his broom. The wetness of the air made the May morning oddly muggy and hot -- Orion had to shrug off his usual brown poncho half-way through his practice because of how much he was sweating.

It was while he was weaving through the three goal hoops on the right hand side of the pitch that he spotted it.

Out of the slowly dissipating darkness came a brilliant light. It wasn’t dawn -- dawn was gold, red, or pink, not this dazzling sort of white. It seemed to soar through the air like an enormous bird, bobbing up and down in the air as if galloping down an invisible road toward him...

It was a pure white, gleaming Patronus, shaped like an Abraxan Winged Horse.

Orion’s dark eyes widened as the beautiful white winged steed flapped up alongside him, its rippling pearl-colored eyes moving over his face, before it abruptly took off again, galloping away toward the commentary box.

When Orion looked down, he saw the sparkling horse stop as if to greet someone sitting in the stands. In the flickering white light, he could make out a familiar mane of ginger red hair.

The Slytherin Quidditch Captain dove after the Patronus. He came to a stop, hovering on his broomstick over Carewyn sitting in Murphy’s usual spot, just as the Abraxan disappeared in a puff of white mist.

“Carewyn Cromwell,” he said. Despite the low, level tone of his voice, it still betrayed some fondness.

Carewyn beamed. “Good morning. Happy Ceremony Day.”

Orion nodded. “A very happy day it is, seeing you’ve recovered.”

“Mm. I’m not supposed to carry anything heavy or push myself too hard...and Chiara’s still going to have to make me Healing potions for the rest of the week...but I should be able to just take them at lunch and dinner now.”

Her ruby red smile became a bit wryer as she added, “And at least now I can actually wear what I want again -- except at the ceremony, of course.”

Orion grinned mischievously as he leaned back on his broom, resting his hands behind his head.

“Ah yes...I’d forgotten your fairy-like tendency to always want to have the brightest-colored wings in the room.”

Carewyn covered her mouth to hold in her laughter. “That’s not true!”

Orion’s smile softened, though his eyes still sparkled with amusement.

“...Today it appears you took inspiration from your Patronus animal, however.”

He gestured to the white feathers decorating her dress.

Carewyn smiled. “Well, Abraxans are my favorite.”

“Are they?” said Orion.

“Mm-hmm. Winged Horses have always been my favorite, since I was little.”

“Ah. Then your Patronus suits you very well.”

Carewyn shifted her focus to the wicker-basket purse on her shoulder. Sliding the strap off, she opened up the latch.

“Here...you want to come sit down for a bit? I figured you probably haven’t had breakfast, so I stopped by the Kitchens before coming back upstairs...”

She unfolded the red-and-white-checkered napkins inside. Orion noted the two bottles of Butterbeer also sitting on the bench next to her.

With a slight smirk, the Slytherin Quiditch Captain deftly swept his broom out from under him and leapt down into the commentary box. Leaning his broom against the side of the box, he took a seat next to Carewyn, crossing his legs on top of the bench.

“Thank you,” he accepted the flat-looking pastry Carewyn passed him. He looked it over with interest.

“It’s a pikelet with an apple compote on top,” Carewyn explained, demonstrating how to hold her own. “Just fold it a bit, so the filling doesn’t spill out, and eat it like this.”

Orion followed her lead and took a bite.

“Mmm...! This is good.”

Carewyn looked very pleased by his reaction.

“I kind of had to improvise,” she admitted sheepishly, “since I couldn’t carry anything big and I didn’t have much time. Pitts tried to convince me to take up some sandwiches, but Mum always loves making pikelets in the morning. Of course she usually serves them with tea, but there’s no way I was going to be able to lug a whole tea service up here.”

Orion chuckled as she passed him one of the bottles of butterbeer. “Butterbeer for breakfast is not a luxury I’ve ever indulged in...but perhaps that’s all the more reason to do it.”

Carewyn tapped both bottles with the tip of her wand to open them and clinked her bottle against Orion’s before they both took a sip.

In the distance the sun had just started to rise, scattering beautiful gold and pink flares over the horizon. Orion watched the sky for a moment, his mind drifting as his eyes ran over the brightening clouds.

“...It’s hard to believe that it’s all over.”

Orion glanced at Carewyn. Her eyes had also moved away from him and rested on the horizon.

“What ‘it’ are you referring to?” he asked very softly.

“...Everything,” Carewyn said at last. “This year. The Quidditch season. The match. ...Your time at Hogwarts.”

Her blue eyes were locked on the horizon, but there was a noticeable regret in how they seemed to slide down away from the sky and down toward the distant forest trees.

Orion’s eyebrows knit together over his eyes, his gaze very thoughtful upon Carewyn’s face. He took another bite of his pikelet and turned his gaze back to the sky.

“When one thing ends, another always begins,” he said very levelly. “When one home is left behind...another is always found.”

“I know,” Carewyn murmured, “but you’ll still miss it, won’t you? The Magpies are great and all...but I know how much you love your team here. To never play Quidditch with that same team again...”

“‘Never’ is a word I cannot believe in,” said Orion very gently. “Even the best Seers in the world can’t guarantee what the future holds. Even a master at Divination can only predict where the wind will blow, what seeds will take root, what storms will brew...”

An almost bittersweet glint flickered through his eyes.

“...I will...always miss my family here -- for it was the first family I’ve ever had to call my own. But I’ve lived too transient of an existence not to know that one day, I would have to physically leave them.”

He turned to Carewyn, his mouth spreading into a small smile.

“Leaving them physically, however...doesn’t mean that my spirit shall leave them. Nor does it mean that I can’t selfishly hoard part of their spirits for myself, and always keep their memory near.”

Carewyn’s eyes on the horizon softened visibly. She turned to look back at Orion, her own red lips spread in a gentle smile. Putting down her bottle of Butterbeer, she reached out her hand and rested it on top of Orion’s.

“...I’m glad you’ve made peace with it,” she said softly.

Orion’s gaze drifted away. His hand lay flat under Carewyn’s, not moving for a moment -- then it twitched almost uncomfortably. Carewyn kindly withdrew her hand without drawing attention to it: Orion probably wasn’t used to people trying to hold his hand.

Orion finished off the pikelet in his hand before speaking again.

“It’s a bridge you yourself will have to cross soon as well, with the family you’ve found. Do you think you’ll be ready for it, when that time comes?”

Carewyn bit her lip. Her eyes fell down to her lap.

“...I guess it’s like you said. I mean...yeah, school will be over...but I can still write to my friends. I can still keep in touch. And...well, maybe by then, the Aurors will have caught Rakepick and dealt with the Vaults. So even if we won’t be as close as we were...”

She brushed her bangs out of her eyes.

“...We’ll...have freedom, too. A kind we don’t have here.”

Orion’s dark eyes narrowed slightly. “That’s true. You’ll be free to do a lot more, outside of these walls. But remember...not all of the walls that imprison us are physical barriers.”

Carewyn blinked up at him. Orion looked noticeably more serious.

“What do you mean?”

Orion’s eyes ran over her face carefully as he considered his response.

“Do you remember...when I told you about how I grew up, before our match against Hufflepuff?”

Carewyn nodded.

“Well, one thing I didn’t tell you is that growing up ‘parent-free’ without rules or regiments wasn’t always easy. At the...institution where I lived...the lack of adult supervision made the whole place kind of a free-for-all, with the older kids taking charge of the younger ones. It was like living in a den of Runespoors. One never really knew what arbitrary ‘rules’ the kids who’d taken charge would decide to enforce when, or on whom.”

Orion could see the concern welling up in Carewyn’s eyes -- he tried to mitigate her feelings with a wry smile.

“As you can imagine, it was not the most balanced place to hang your hat in. But I don’t tell you this to elicit pity, Carewyn -- I tell you this because, despite the anxiety I’ve struggled with, thanks to the unique magical beasts I’ve battled in my life...I got through it not just due to my own determination, but because I reached out for help.”

Carewyn smiled empathetically. “I know what you mean.”

‘Without Duncan...without Bill and Charlie and Ben and Merula being there, when I fell apart...I don’t know if I ever would’ve come up for air again...’

“I’m sure you do,” said Orion, and his own voice echoed her empathy.

He glanced down at her hand resting on the bench. Almost uncomfortably, he placed his hand down on top of hers in much the same way she had his. With a sympathetic smile, Carewyn adjusted her hand so that her fingers could wrap around his thumb, so they were holding hands properly. Interestingly, this time, Orion didn’t move away. His shoulders relaxed.

“Have you considered going to therapy?”

Carewyn frowned. “Therapy?”

“Yes. I know the beasts we fight are different, but I cannot overstate how much it’s helped me find balance, after being raised in the midst of a storm.”

Carewyn glanced away uncomfortably. “Mm...I can see how it would. But I’m not like you, Orion -- I haven’t gone through half of what you’ve gone through...”

“One cannot quantify a soul’s suffering,” Orion cut her off patiently.

“Yeah, but...I had a family. I had a good childhood. Sure, it wasn’t perfect, but I had a lot to be grateful for. And the bad times...I got through them okay.”

“Yes. And that strength is admirable, Carewyn. You have every right to be proud of that. But just because you were able to soldier the claw and bite marks of the beasts you’ve fended off doesn’t mean they haven’t left damage. And sometimes...those small cuts and bruises, in your mind...can be far more dangerous than an open, bleeding gash. Because it’s tempting to just pretend they’re not there -- to let them fester and give way to infection...or worse still, simply scar over...at which point you’re host to them forever. And why should you have to host them, when you more than deserve to live as a fully healed person?”

His hand adjusted slightly, taking a more secure hold of Carewyn’s.

“I understand if you decide not to pursue it,” said Orion, “but please, at least consider it.”

Carewyn, unable to look Orion in the face because of how uncomfortable she felt, rested her gaze to the left of their joined hands instead.

“...All right,” she murmured. “I’ll think about it.”

There was a short pause. Then Carewyn bit back a small laugh.

“You know...when we first met, in my third year, you kind of reminded me of Jacob.”

Orion raised his eyebrows. “Your brother?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm. One could take that as quite a compliment, considering how fond you are of him.”

“It was,” said Carewyn, grinning wider still. “You reminded me of him at first because of how in your head you seemed -- how you sort of saw the world in your own brilliant way, even if it was different from everybody else’s. But...”

Orion was taken aback when Carewyn burst into giggles.

“But -- “ she laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand, “but after a while, I realized...you two are nothing alike. Jacob’s brilliant, don’t get me wrong, but he’s an idiot about people -- including himself! He can never get into someone else’s head, or analyze someone’s emotions, or predict someone’s behavior based on their personality. He’s memorized every book he’s ever read front to back and can use Switching Spells on himself during Wizard Duels...but he’d never be the sort of person to realize that surfing around on your broom could give you an edge during a Quidditch match, simply by psyching out your opponents. He’s not patient or analytical, or even the least bit wise...which is hilarious, since he was a Ravenclaw...”

Carewyn giggled even more behind her hand. Orion’s mouth spread into a large grin of his own, his dark eyes becoming a little smaller.

“Ravenclaws value wisdom, it doesn’t mean they are wise,” he pointed out coolly.

“No kidding,” said Carewyn.

She bit her lip, managing to contain her laughter at last.

“But yeah...I realized you’re not really like Jacob at all. If anything...I reckon you’re a lot more like me.”

Orion looked up at Carewyn, looking noticeably surprised for the first time. Then, almost at once, his expression softened again, as he turned back to the horizon.

“...Yes. I have thought that, previously.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I thought it first, right after you left the Slytherin team. Your choice of preserving our team over winning an argument...it was something I thought I probably would’ve done myself, in your place. As time went by, as well, you gathered more and more people around you...took them under your wing...created your own family, out of the friends who surrounded you. And you protected that family with fire and tenacity, while also caring for them with patience and loyalty. That too...reminded me of myself.”

He bowed his head, his gaze resting on the edge of the commentary box as he smiled fully.

“...I think the reason I lamented you not returning to the team earlier...was that I knew you love your Hogwarts family as dearly as I love mine. Still...what’s done is done. Although the stars decided we must fly in different directions...”

He looked at Carewyn out the side of his eye.

“...I am glad, at least, that we were able to meet in orbit more than once.”

Judging by the brightness of her eyes and the softness of her face, Carewyn was very touched.

Orion gave a light shrug as he grinned a bit more wryly. “I admit, though -- practice seemed quite a bit quieter, after you left. The team missed your voice whenever we took time to meditate.”

Carewyn raised an eyebrow. “You missed me singing?”

“Of course. Calming music is very helpful, when trying to find your center of balance.”

Carewyn glanced out at the horizon once more.

The sun had come, and so with it had the dawn. The beautiful sunlight painted the remnants of the stormy gray clouds, sparkling like gold dust on some marble statue.

Keeping her focus ahead, Carewyn took some slow, deep breaths. Chiara had said she needed to practice breathing, even if it hurt a bit...

Once she’d gathered enough breath, she opened her mouth and started to sing.

“We’re walking in the air --

We’re floating in the moonlit sky...

The people far below are sleeping as we fly...”

Orion closed his eyes, but he was clearly listening. His head had tilted that bit toward her to hear better, since Carewyn had to sing more quietly than normal so as not to strain her lung.

“We’re holding very tight --

I’m riding in the midnight blue...

I’m finding I can fly so high above with you...

La da da da da...la da da da da...

La da da da da...la da da da da...da...

All across the world, the villages go by like trees,

The rivers and the hills, the forests and the streams...

Children gaze open-mouthed, taken by surprise --

Nobody down below believes their eyes!

We’re surfing in the air -- ”

Orion gave a soft, delighted laugh in the back of his throat at the metaphor. Carewyn reckoned he was thinking of his trademark Quidditch move.

“We’re swimming in the frozen sky...

We’re drifting over icy mountains floating by...

La da da da da...la da da da da...

La da da da da...la da da da da...da...

Suddenly, swooping low on an ocean deep,

The rousing of a mighty monster from his sleep...!

We’re walking in the air --

We’re dancing in the midnight sky,

And everyone who sees us greets us as we fly...”

When Carewyn finished, Orion opened his eyes. They were sparkling and crinkled up with the ghost of a smile.

“Did you pick that song specifically for me?”

Carewyn raised her eyebrows in cool amusement. “I’ll let you decide that.”

x~x~x~x

That evening Orion, Carewyn, and the rest of the Slytherin team gathered in front of the trophy case in the Great Hall. Waiting for them was Madame Hooch, Snape, Skye, Murphy, the Ravenclaw team, and about fifty more Quidditch fans. When the spectators caught sight of Carewyn, quite a few of them burst into applause and started chanting.

“CROMWELL! CROMWELL! CROMWELL!”

“Settle down,” Snape quieted the crowd of students with a very sharp voice.

Despite his usual cold affect, however, he did address Carewyn when she approached with the rest of the team.

“Good of you to finally be available, Cromwell,” he said sardonically.

Carewyn smiled wryly. “Sorry, Professor -- I wasn’t allowed to levitate myself out of the Hospital Wing.”

“You’re fortunate that you are even here to make smart remarks,” said Snape very coldly. “See that you get your Potions assignment to me by the end of this week, as agreed.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right, now,” said Madame Hooch, “gather ‘round, please.”

Orion, Carewyn, and the Slytherin Quidditch team moved out of Hooch’s way and back to the edge of the circle so that the Flying professor could stand in front of the trophy case.

x~x~x~x

Madame Hooch: “Everyone please give a round of applause to Slytherin house!”

[As soon as she spoke, emerald-and-silver-colored ribbons materialized over the trophy case. On the silver Quidditch Cup in the center, Carewyn could just barely make out the word “SLYTHERIN” in all caps, as well as some tiny lines of lettering underneath that likely was each of the players’ names.

Madame Hooch turned to Orion.]

Orion: “It is.”

[Orion strode forward, taking Hooch’s spot in front of the trophy case. His voice was as level as ever, even through the pride and emotion rippling at the back of his eyes.]

Orion: “Mistakes have been made, and lessons have been learned. Rivalries have flared, and bonds of friendship have been forged. Accidents have pulled our team apart, and yet also brought us together. Through it all...we somehow always regained our balance...facing this journey with patience, tenacity, loyalty, and fire. I’m truly grateful to all of my teammates. Our youngest member, Ashok, who has gone toe to toe with Chasers twice his size without fear -- our Seeker, Kaylisa, who continues to top herself in every match -- Night and Quinn, the most protective and brilliant Beaters one could ever hope to find -- my fellow Chasers, Cara and Skye, who I couldn’t be more proud to have flown alongside in so many wonderful matches...”

[Orion’s gaze drifted over his team proudly, before landing firmly on Carewyn.]

Orion: “Without her deciding to selflessly fight for our dream as passionately as she would her own...I would not be accepting the Quidditch Cup for our house.”

[Carewyn’s eyes welled up with emotion looking up at Orion.]

‘Oh, Orion...I’m so glad I could give this to you. Even if my chest does hurt like Hell...seeing you reach your dream...knowing I helped you reach it...’

[She brushed some bangs out of her eyes, trying to hide the small traces of tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.]

‘...It really makes me feel like I can be someone worthwhile.’

[The crowd all burst into applause. The Ravenclaw team was applauding much more quietly and with much more restrained expressions, but Carewyn was pleased to see that at least they didn’t look like they wanted to beat the winning team within an inch of their life, like losing Quidditch teams sometimes did.

The crowd slowly dispersed. Eventually only Carewyn, Orion, and Murphy remained. A moment later, Skye came over to join them. Slytherin’s Star Chaser passed Rath as the Ravenclaw team left -- the two caught each other’s eye, but for once, only Rath looked particularly surly. The blond Beater stared Skye down for a moment and then strode away with the confidence of a tank.

Noticing the questioning look Carewyn was shooting at her, Skye frowned uncomfortably.]

Skye: “I tried apologizing the other day -- you know, properly. But she didn’t forgive me.”

“I told you it was probably going to take time.”

Murphy: “(grinning) At least Rath doesn’t look like she wants to hit you anymore! I’d say that means you’re about 35% on your way toward earning her forgiveness.”

Skye: “Only 35?!”

Murphy: “Your rivalry has been around for years.”

Orion: “(gently) Remember the Flobberworm’s lesson, Skye -- patience can be an effective way to reach your goal, even more than frenetic action.”

[Skye gave an aggravated sigh.

Murphy turned his focus to the Slytherin-decorated trophy case and gave a loud, much happier sigh of his own through his broad smile.]

[Carewyn smiled at the trophy case too.]

“Me too.”

[She knew it wasn’t really an ending for any of the other three, given that Murphy would become a junior commentator for the Quidditch League, Orion would join the Montrose Magpies, and Skye would join the Wigtown Wanderers with Rath that next year...but in that moment, Carewyn was happy to think of it as that “happy ending” the Slytherin team so rightfully deserved.]

((OOC: Whew! Done at last! *collapses*

Referenced one last time are MC players Night Rhea @nightrhea-hphm, Sabrina “Quinn” Mercurenius @danceworshipper, and Cara O’Donnell @unfortunate-arrow.

In my headcanon, Orion suffers from anxiety. According to the research I’ve done on people who grew up in orphanages or other environments lacking proper parenting or attentiveness, many end up suffering from anxiety or panic-related disorders. One notable body language “tell” for anxiety is clasping one’s hands in front of them -- which, yeah, Orion does constantly! It can look confident in some situations, but it sometimes also can hint to someone feeling anxious. Some common therapeutic self-help techniques to deal with anxiety include exercising regularly, connecting with others, and meditating, all of which Orion also does in canon. Following this headcanon, in the last gameplay section, I wrote Orion having an anxiety attack -- like a panic attack, anxiety attacks usually require great sensitivity toward the person experiencing it, but unlike panic attacks, anxiety attacks often have outside triggers or stressors. (Gee, I can’t imagine what was stressing Orion out, in that moment.) Since Carewyn struggles with depression and self-loathing, it does make for an interesting contrast.

And yes, I love Orion Amari with all of my heart and soul -- however did you guess? 8D))

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quest for the quidditch cup #roleplaying #gameplay #my writing #carewyn cromwell #orion amari #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #rolanda hooch #severus snape #night rhea #sabrina mercurenius #cara o'donnell #other people's mcs #my art

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