#I don’t actually think there are a lot of Merlin tags

[snirtsnirkarts]

His name? Well, actually their names. Anyways I had this really fun idea and my own take on the “What would happen if you tried to take Merlin’s magic away” or whatever yknow. Well this is one of my fun takes. I thought it’d be very funny if it kinda split Merlin from his magic and kinda split his personality into two different people. Yknow like that one Phineas and Fred eps where Candice splits into two and one wants to bust the boys and the other is obsessed with Jeremy. Essentially that. Or like any classic cartoon troupe like that.

Emrys is the embodiment of the word “Stressed”, Merlin is cluelessly fearless. Emrys is an excellent liar, Merlin wouldn’t be able to lie if his life depended on it(it does). Emrys is rather agile, Merlin is so clumsy and accident prone he may get himself killed just by walking around. Both still have the sass, but Emrys’ is better timed with his to make them hit the hardest and Merlin only speaks in insults.

Anywho, the concept is that Merlin goes back to the first instance he died, which I decided he’s fallen out of a tree one night while sneaking out to play with Will. And one of the only way Merlin and Emrys become one again is if Merlin goes through all of the times he died. Luckily it doesn’t switch until Merlin fully heals from the last death, and Merlin sustained quite a few injuries that take some time to heal from his first. So before he goes to his next death, the poisoned chaise, Emrys has to find the flower, and then will hunt to find The Cup of Life. That’s because some of his deaths are impossible to cure, and with The Cup of Life, Emrys could speed up the process. But having to do all of that all at the same time as, making sure Merlin doesn’t get himself killed, protecting Arthur, and having to deal with a mini Dragon who just wants to play with her lord. All while Morgana is trying to find out where her dragon has gone off to.

Also Emry’s outfit is fully inspired by an outfit @/druid-boy-punk drew Merlin in check out their stuff it’s really good.

[thesorcerersshadow]

merlin whispering “don’t let him get too close”, already the advisor on arthur’s shoulder when society says he really has NO BUSINESS being so, and arthur listening and drawing his sword and warning uther. okayyyyy.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

*insert Elmo in flames meme*

Ahhhh! I'd be happy to give you some Ominis fic ideas 😁🩷 of course, you could just scrap this altogether but I was thinking 🤔 could we have a 7th year Ominis being able to gain financial freedom from his family because MC gave her Hogsmeade shop to him? I know a lot of people want him to escape to America but Hogsmeade just feels so cozy and perfect for him being a shopkeeper.

And MC realizing her feelings for him during one instance when she had to return to him to replenish her supplies from her travels, and maybe decides it's time to be with him? 😣💕

It's okay if you don't like this plotline but I just finished the Haunted Hogsmeade quest, and I immediately thought of Ominis being its owner!

Thank you so much!!

Threads of Fate | Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Anon, I hope this is everything you hoped for! Thank you for the request and inspiration <3 it was my absolute pleasure writing this.

Words: ~6,700

Tags: Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, Post Canon, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Fluff, Fluff AGAIN

“You’d think after all these years I’d be better at writing letters, but somehow, I still find myself pausing, trying to decide how to start. Then again, you always make it easier when you write first. Your last letter was… exactly what I needed. You have a knack for saying the right thing, even when you don’t realize it.”

“Anne stopped by the shop recently. She told me to stop ‘hovering like a nervous bird’ over your enchanted scarves and to start charging more for them. Apparently, she’s appointed herself my business manager, whether I wanted one or not. She also asked about you—how you’re doing, where you are, why you haven’t written her back, and, most importantly, when you’re finally coming home. I told her I didn’t know, but she was unimpressed by my answer. Honestly, I’m not impressed either.”

“Sebastian, meanwhile, has decided that I’ve become too boring for his liking. He keeps trying to convince me to pack up and visit you, as though I could just leave the shop to run itself. His words, not mine. It’s ridiculous, of course, but I wonder if there’s something to it. You’ve been gone so long now, it’s hard not to feel like there’s a part of this place missing.”

“Speaking of which—are you planning to come back anytime soon? You told me six months, and that was, what, six months ago? You’re not terrible at keeping promises, but you’re testing the limits here. I’ll forgive you if you write soon with some good news—or better yet, with the promise of coming home.”

“The shop is still standing, though I’ve made a few small changes here and there. I hope you won’t scold me when you see them. It’s funny, even when you’re not here, I find myself thinking, ‘What would she do?’ And sometimes, I swear I can hear your voice, usually chiding me for something I’ve misplaced or forgotten. I wonder—did you know, even then, how much this shop would mean to me? …Did you know how much you mean to me?”

“Take care of yourself, won’t you? Though I doubt I need to remind you. You’ve always been reckless, but you’ve never been careless. But I can’t help worrying about you—it’s impossible not to.”

“Write soon, or better yet, come home. I’d like to see you again. I’d like to… well, there’s plenty I’d like to say in person.”

Yours, always, Ominis

The letter, over a month old now, was worn at the edges, its parchment soft from being folded and unfolded too many times. Your fingers traced the familiar loops of Ominis’ handwriting, lingering over the slight smudge where his quill must have hesitated.

Even as the train carried you closer to Hogsmeade, you felt guilty. You hadn’t written back. But you hadn’t trusted yourself to put quill to parchment, not even to Anne or Sebastian, neither of whom could be trusted to keep your long awaited return a secret.

Six months. You’d promised him six months, and here you were, long past that mark. You’d wanted to return sooner—Merlin knew how much you’d wanted to—but there had always been one more ruin, one more curse to break, one more excuse to stay away.

It wasn’t just the work, though. The truth you hadn’t dared admit to yourself was that the thought of walking into Stitches and Draughts again, of seeing Ominis after all this time, terrified you. What if things had changed? What if the delicate balance of your friendship—of your stupid, traitorous feelings for him—had changed?

Merlin knew you had.

You caught your reflection in the train’s window, and for a moment, it felt like looking at a stranger. The girl you once were, the one with the boundless energy and effortless grace of youth, was nowhere to be found. Gone was the lithe figure and carefree ease that had come with an 18-year-old’s metabolism, replaced by a version of yourself you were still learning to accept. The life of a cursebreaker hadn’t been kind to your body—or your soul. Years of chasing dangerous leads, grueling physical labor, and long nights spent deciphering ancient scripts had taken their toll. Meals were often hurried, whatever you could grab between assignments, and the relentless travel left little room for rest. You were softer now, and your body bore the marks of your journey—an ache in your shoulders from carrying too much weight, faint scars from brushes with danger, and an exhaustion that felt carved into your very bones.

You turned away from the window, forcing your reflection out of sight. The sight of it only dredged up insecurities you had no business indulging—not now, not when you were so close. It was stupid to worry about it, you told yourself. What did it matter whether Ominis found you attractive? Seven years had passed. Seven years of separate lives, separate paths. You couldn’t expect him to still see you as he once might have—or to have waited for you at all.

Back then, you were just kids, after all. Even when your friendship had danced on the edge of something more, neither of you had ever been brave enough to take that final step. You thought of the moments that had felt like more—his hand brushing yours when you walked side by side, the way he’d linger in the shop late into the night, his head tilted toward you as though he could hear the shape of your smile. But those moments were fleeting, always followed by silence or a change of subject. Neither of you had ever said the words.

And now? Seven years was a long time to expect someone to wait for something that was never truly spoken aloud.

Still, the thought haunted you, gnawing at your resolve. Would he notice the changes in you? Would he care about the extra softness to your curves, the faint lines of exhaustion that hadn’t been there before? The idea that he might—that he’d look at you with anything less than the quiet warmth you remembered—made your stomach twist.

The train jolted, pulling you from your spiraling thoughts as it slowed to a screeching halt at Hogsmeade Station. The sound of the brakes, sharp and familiar, was like a spell breaking. You rose stiffly from your seat, clutching your bag as you tried to gather yourself.

The platform was just as you remembered it: bustling with witches and wizards, steam curling in the crisp air, and the faint smell of coal mingling with the fresh, wintry scent of snow. Twinkling fairy lights hung from the lampposts, casting a warm glow on the frosted cobblestones, while festive garlands of holly and enchanted mistletoe draped along the edges of the station roof. You adjusted the strap of your bag and stepped off the train, your boots crunching against the frost-dusted ground.

The walk into the village was surreal, like stepping back into a dream you hadn’t dared let yourself miss too much. The bustling streets, the cheerful glow of the shop windows, the distant chatter of students—every detail tugged at something deep inside you. It looked the same, as though no time had passed, and yet that was precisely what unsettled you.

Time had passed. Seven years, to be exact.

Seven years since you’d walked these streets as a Hogwarts student, clutching a bag of Honeydukes’ sweets or ducking into the Three Broomsticks with your friends to escape the cold. Seven years since you’d stood inside Stitches and Draughts as its owner, turning your ideas into enchanted creations, the room filled with the warmth of softly glowing candles and the sound of laughter. Seven years since you’d worked side by side with Ominis, his sharp wit cutting through Sebastian’s dramatic tales of Quidditch triumphs, all while the three of you shared late nights in the shop as though the world outside didn’t exist.

But even then, you’d known the shop wasn’t meant to be your forever.

The decision to give it to Ominis had come in the quiet months of your seventh year, after countless conversations where he’d confided in you about his family, his fears, and the cage he felt he could never escape. You’d listened as he spoke of the suffocating expectations of the Gaunt name, how every aspect of his life had been dictated by tradition and duty.

And money.

It wasn’t fair. Ominis deserved more than that. Far, far more.

Your Ominis deserved everything.

The idea had taken root during one of those late nights in the shop. He’d been helping you charm a batch of scarves to repel rain when you’d caught him standing at the counter, running his hands over the worn wood. There’d been a wistful look on his face, one that had stayed with you long after the candles were extinguished and the shop had gone dark.

By the time graduation loomed, the decision felt inevitable.

You still remembered the day you handed him the deed, the way his pale fingers trembled as he unrolled the parchment. His expression had been unreadable at first, his face carefully composed as he scanned the document.

“What is this?” he’d asked, his voice low and wary.

“It’s yours,” you’d replied, keeping your tone light even as your heart pounded. “The shop. Everything in it. Consider it a… graduation gift.”

The silence that followed had been deafening. Ominis had stared at you, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“You can’t be serious,” he’d said finally. “This is yours. Your work. You can’t just—”

“I can,” you’d interrupted, placing a hand over his. “And I am. You’re the only one I trust to take care of it. To make it more than I ever could.”

He’d tried to argue, of course. Ominis always argued. But you’d stood your ground, knowing in your heart it was the right choice.

“It’s not just about the shop,” you’d said softly, looking into his unseeing eyes. “It’s... about giving you a way out. A chance to build something that’s yours—not theirs.”

That had silenced him.

He’d accepted the deed reluctantly, his gratitude laced with disbelief. And though you hadn’t admitted it aloud, you’d known you were giving him more than just the shop. More than just securing his freedom. You were giving him a part of yourself, a way to stay connected even when you left.

And now, as Christmas loomed all these years later, your legs carried you through the village, back to that very same place. You were almost on autopilot, even as your heart pounded erratically in your chest with every step that brought you closer to the shop. Around you, the village bustled with holiday cheer, but all of it faded into the background, a distant hum drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat.

And then you were there.

And Stitches and Draughts looked beautiful.

The building had been freshly painted, its trim gleaming with a soft, snowy white that contrasted perfectly with the deep emerald of the shop’s sign—still the same one you’d painted years ago, but lovingly restored. The doorframe was draped with enchanted holly garlands, the bright red berries twinkling like tiny stars. The windows sparkled in the glow of lights strung carefully along the eaves, and the front display was nothing short of magical.

Inside the glass, enchanted scarves floated gracefully in midair, their threads shimmering with subtle, festive embroidery—snowflakes that danced along the hems, holly leaves that twisted and turned like they were caught in a gentle breeze. Beside them, self-heating gloves sat arranged in neat little bundles, their tags tied with golden ribbons that seemed to hum faintly with charmwork.

It was perfect. Too perfect. And the sight of it, so familiar and yet so undeniably different, had your heart aching in your chest. This wasn’t just a shop anymore—it was his shop. Every detail spoke of Ominis’ care, his precision, his thoughtfulness. He’d taken what you’d built and turned it into something so much more.

Your grip tightened on the strap of your bag as your eyes flicked between the display and the freshly polished door handle. The urge to turn and flee surged through you, but your feet remained rooted to the spot. You’d faced cursed ruins, ancient traps, and magic designed to kill, but nothing—nothing—had ever felt as daunting as the prospect of walking through that door.

Would he even want to see you? Would he welcome you after all this time, after the months of silence and unfulfilled promises? Or had the years widened the distance between you too far to bridge?

The bell above the door jingled as someone exited the shop, their arms laden with carefully wrapped packages. They offered you a polite smile as they passed, but you barely noticed, your gaze fixed on the door that had swung closed behind them.

Your legs felt heavy as you took a hesitant step forward. Then another.

With a deep, unsteady exhale, you pushed the door open, the familiar chime of the bells above echoing like a memory brought to life.

The warmth of the shop enveloped you immediately, the scent of cedar and lavender mingling with something faintly sweet—probably from a batch of enchanted candles near the counter. Shelves lined the walls, filled with bolts of fabric, potion bottles, and racks of neatly displayed scarves and gloves. The hum of magic thrummed softly in the air, a comforting, familiar sound.

But none of it mattered, not really.

Your eyes were drawn to the figure standing behind the counter, his back to you, the blond of his hair catching the golden light.

"Be with you in a moment," he said, his voice smooth and warm, but it hit you like a jolt of lightning.

It had been so long—too long—since you’d last heard his voice, and even now, it was exactly as you remembered, richer with age but still undeniably Ominis. It overwhelmed you, the weight of it pressing down on the breath you tried to draw, stealing the words you’d thought you’d prepared.

And then he turned.

The sight of him was truly your undoing.

Ominis was taller than you remembered, his frame lean but strong, elegant but unyielding. He was wearing a soft sweater in a deep charcoal gray, the fabric snug across his broad shoulders and loose around his narrow waist, the sleeves pushed up just enough to reveal the sharp angles of his wrists and the pale skin of his forearms. His blond hair, a touch longer than it had been when you’d last seen him, was still combed back, though a strand at the front had fallen to rest against the curve of his face.

Time had only refined the sharpness of his cheekbones and the strong, angular line of his jaw. His features were striking in a way that felt almost unfair, the kind of beauty that drew the eye and held it captive.

And yet, there was something softer about him, too—something that hadn’t been there before. The rigid tension that had so often defined him in your Hogwarts years seemed less pronounced, replaced by a quiet ease as he worked. He looked… content.

It was too much.

You’d imagined this reunion a hundred different ways, but none of them had accounted for the way it would feel to see him again, to hear his voice, to stand so close and yet feel the weight of all the time and space that had separated you.

“My apologies for the delay. Welcome to Stitches and Draughts,” he said, his tone polite and practiced, yet warm in a way that made your chest ache. He tilted his head slightly, as though listening more intently. “What can I help you with today?”

The words hung in the air, impossibly ordinary for a moment that felt anything but.

You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. All the carefully rehearsed greetings, the lighthearted explanations you’d planned for why it had taken so long to return, evaporated.

Your silence stretched just a second too long, and you saw the faint furrow of his brow, the slight tilt of his head as he picked up on your hesitation.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice softening, concern creeping into his tone.

That was what finally broke you.

“Ominis,” you managed, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to steady it.

His lips parted as though to say something, but no words came, and his sightless eyes, usually so calm and focused, seemed to search for you in the space between.

“Is it—” he began, his voice barely above a whisper, trembling at the edges. “Is… it really you?”

Tears pricked at your eyes, hot and relentless. You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see the gesture.

“It’s me,” you managed.

Ominis moved before you could register it, stepping out from behind the counter with a swiftness that made your breath catch. “You’re here,” he murmured, his voice filled with something close to wonder. “You’re actually here. But you… you didn’t write back. I thought—”

“I know,” you said quickly, guilt flooding your chest. “I’m sorry, Ominis. I—” Your voice faltered. How could you possibly explain everything? The silence, the distance, the fear?

Before you could try, Ominis closed the gap between you. His hands reached out, tentatively searching, as though he were afraid to reach out and find nothing there. When his fingers brushed against your sleeve, he inhaled sharply, and then his hands moved upward, settling on your shoulders.

You watched as his expression crumbled. The carefully constructed composure he’d always worn fell away, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

“You’re home,” he said, his voice trembling. “How long have you been planning this?”

The crack in his voice broke something inside you. “I… for months,” you whispered, your own voice shaking. “I'm so sorry, it took so long—”

Your words were cut off again as Ominis pulled you into him, strong arms wrapping around you with a desperate urgency, his hands firm against your back as if he were afraid to let go, afraid you might slip away again. The suddenness of it made you stiffen, your insecurities flaring instantly to life.

He’d know.

He’d feel the difference—the softness of your curves where you’d once been lithe, the weight you carried now, both physical and emotional. The image of what you’d been years ago, the version of you he might still hold in his mind, clashed violently with the reality of who you were now.

But then there was the feel of him.

Him, warm against you, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the faint scent of his characteristic cologne—it was all so achingly familiar, so Ominis, that you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the way you’d changed.

Tears spilled freely down your cheeks as you let yourself sink into his chest, your arms lifting to wrap around his waist. You clung to him, the years of distance and silence collapsing between you as if they’d never existed.

His hand moved gently, brushing over your hair in a soothing rhythm that made your heart ache. “I missed you hopelessly.” He murmured, his voice muffled by your hair

“I missed you more than anything,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to look up at him, tears still streaming freely down your cheeks. “I thought about you every day.”

Ominis pulled back slightly, his hands still resting lightly on your shoulders. His sightless eyes searched your face as though he could somehow see you, the corners of his mouth twitching into the faintest of smiles. You felt his thumb brush against your sleeve, as if he needed the tactile confirmation that you were truly there. One of his hands slid down to grasp yours, his fingers curling firmly around yours as if to anchor you both in this moment.

For a long, breathless second, neither of you spoke.

Then, without a word, Ominis turned toward the shop’s entrance, your hand still firmly in his. He moved quickly, his steps sure as he crossed the space to the door. Releasing your hand only briefly, he flipped the sign to Closed and twisted the lock with a decisive click.

“To hell with work,” he muttered under his breath, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The words caught you off guard, pulling a startled laugh from you—a sound you hadn’t realized you’d been holding back.

When he turned back to you, his expression softened further, though there was still an edge of something you couldn’t quite name in the set of his jaw. Relief, perhaps. Or the determination of someone who wasn’t about to let this moment slip away.

“Come upstairs,” he said, his voice low and steady. “The shop can wait.”

He didn’t give you a chance to argue—not that you would have—before leading you to the small staircase tucked behind the counter. His hand stayed in yours as he guided you, his grip firm but gentle, like he was still afraid to let go.

The stairs creaked faintly under your feet as you followed Ominis into the flat above the shop. The scent of cedar lingered here too, mixed with something faintly herbal—his cologne, no doubt.

“Forgive the state of things,” he said quickly, his tone uncharacteristically self-conscious as he gestured toward the room. “I wasn’t exactly expecting... well, anyone. Least of all you.”

But as your eyes roamed the space, you couldn’t find the “mess” he spoke of. The room was tidy, cozy, and so very him. A small bookshelf stood against one wall, lined with neatly arranged tomes you recognized from your Hogwarts years, alongside a few newer additions. A comfortable-looking armchair sat in one corner, its seat draped with a soft, worn throw blanket. A half empty mug of tea sat forgotten on the small table beside it, next to what appeared to be a half-finished crossword puzzle.

There were small signs of his life everywhere: a folded sweater resting on the back of the chair, a walking stick leaning against the wall by the door, a well-cared-for violin resting in its case near the bookshelf. The window was framed by simple curtains, their edges charmed to shimmer faintly in the light, a detail that felt unmistakably him.

“It’s perfect,” you said, turning to him with a soft smile.

He let out a huff of disbelief. “Hardly. It’s small, and I wasn’t expecting guests, so it’s a bit—”

“No, really,” you insisted, stepping further into the room. “It’s... you. I mean that in the best way.”

His lips parted slightly, as though he wanted to argue, but he seemed to think better of it. Instead, his free hand gestured vaguely at the space. “I haven’t had much reason to bring anyone up here,” he admitted, his tone quieter now. “I usually keep to myself unless Sebastian or Anne drag me out for something."

You turned back to him, catching the faint blush dusting his cheeks as he moved to straighten a few items on the table near the armchair. The sight made your heart ache in the best way, the years falling away as though you’d never been apart.

“It’s nice to see you’ve kept up the crossword habit,” you teased, gesturing toward the table.

Ominis smirked, his confidence returning just enough to quip, “It’s either that or let my mind wander, and we both know that can only lead to trouble.”

You laughed, the sound light and easy, "That's true."

He gestured toward the couch near the window, its cushions plump and inviting. “Sit,” he said, his tone soft but insistent. “I'm sure you’ve been traveling all day.”

You hesitated, still standing near the door, but Ominis stepped closer, his expression gentle. “Please,” he added, his voice quieter now.

With a nod, you set your bag down near the door and crossed to the couch, sinking into its cushions. It was as comfortable as it looked, and you let out a quiet sigh as the tension in your body began to ease.

He moved toward the kitchenette. “Tea?” he asked, his head tilted slightly in your direction.

“Yes, please,” you said quickly, your voice softer than you intended.

Ominis nodded, his movements fluid and purposeful as he filled the kettle and set it on the small stove.

“I’ve got chamomile, mint, and… some Earl Grey that Sebastian swore I’d love but tastes like someone soaked socks in bergamot,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking into a smirk.

You laughed softly, leaning back into the couch. “Chamomile sounds perfect.”

He nodded, plucking the sachet from its place with an almost practiced precision, his hands moving with the same quiet grace you remembered so vividly. Despite the ease of his movements, you could see the faint tension in the set of his shoulders, the way he hesitated before reaching for the mugs.

"Did Sebastian and Anne know about you coming back?" Ominis asked, his voice calm but carrying a subtle edge of curiosity.

You hesitated, fingers tracing the edge of the couch cushion. "No," you admitted softly. "I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t… want them to spill the secret. I thought it might be better this way."

He turned slightly, his sightless eyes tilted in your direction, one brow arching faintly. “Better for whom?”

You huffed a humorless laugh, biting your lip. "Me, I guess. I thought if I just showed up, it would be easier. Less... complicated."

Ominis tilted his head slightly, as though weighing your words, his fingers brushing the rim of the mug as he prepared your tea. "You thought sneaking back into Hogsmeade unannounced would be less complicated?"

A faint smile tugged at your lips despite the knot of nerves in your chest. "Okay, maybe not less complicated. But at least it meant I wouldn’t have to explain myself to Sebastian. You know how he gets."

He let out a soft laugh, the sound light and genuine, and it warmed something deep inside you. "Indeed. He is relentless," he said, placing the mug of chamomile tea in front of you on the low table. "Though, I can’t say I’d have been any better. If I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t have been able to focus on anything else."

You looked up at him, startled by the quiet sincerity in his voice. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his expression open and unguarded as he sat down across from you, his own mug cradled in his hands.

“I didn’t mean to make you wait,” you said softly, your fingers curling around the warm ceramic. “I just—” You paused, your words catching in your throat. "I don't know. I suppose it doesn't matter. I'm here now."

Ominis’ lips pressed together for a moment, his brows furrowing slightly as though he wanted to press further. His hands tightened almost imperceptibly around his mug, the tension in his shoulders betraying his thoughts.

But then he exhaled softly, the lines of his face smoothing as he nodded. “You’re here now,” he repeated, his voice quiet but steady, though you could hear the unspoken for how long? lingering in the air.

You quickly took a sip of your tea, the warmth a welcome distraction as you scrambled for something that would steer the conversation elsewhere. “This tea is lovely,” you said, offering a smile that you hoped looked effortless. “Everything is. The flat, the shop... it’s all incredible. You must be so proud of what you’ve built.”

Ominis tilted his head slightly, his expression softening into something almost amused. “That’s kind of you to say, but I hardly think a well-stocked tea shelf qualifies as incredible.”

You laughed, grateful for the easy banter. “It’s not just the tea shelf, though it is very impressive. The shop looks amazing—I noticed the display when I walked in. And the enchanted holly on the door? It’s such a nice touch. It’s all so... you.”

He leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I did have some help with the holly—Anne insisted. She thought it might ‘soften my cold, foreboding reputation.’”

You grinned, picturing Anne bustling around the shop, her infectious energy clashing against Ominis’ quieter demeanor. “I think it works. Though I can’t imagine anyone thinking you’re 'foreboding'.”

“Oh, you’d be surprised,” he said dryly, his smirk deepening. “Anne says I scare away the first years who stop in. Apparently, my ‘stern demeanor’ doesn’t pair well with curious children looking for enchanted scarves.”

You laughed, the image of wide-eyed first-years inching cautiously into the shop playing vividly in your mind. “I’m sure you’re not that bad,” you teased. “Maybe they just don’t appreciate your charm.”

Ominis quirked an eyebrow, his smirk softening. “Charm, is it? I’ll be sure to tell Anne you said that next time she accuses me of being the ‘shopkeeper equivalent of a Boggart.’”

That earned another laugh, lighter this time, and you shook your head. “If she really thought you were a Boggart, she wouldn’t have helped with the decorations.”

“She likes to keep me humble,” he replied, his tone full of wry affection.

But even as Ominis joined in your banter, you could see the way his fingers drummed absently against the side of his mug, his thoughts clearly turning over something unsaid. He was playing along with your attempts at small talk, but you knew he wasn’t fooled.

Still, for now, he let it go, his quiet smile lingering as he said, “So tell me, how does it feel to be back?”

The question caught you off guard, and your smile faltered slightly. “It feels... surreal,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “Like I’ve been gone forever, and yet somehow nothing’s changed.”

Ominis nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Hogsmeade does have a way of staying the same. But you..." He hesitated, and his words hung in the air, unfinished but heavy with meaning.

You’re different.

He had noticed. Of course he had. Ominis was nothing if not perceptive.

You lowered your mug to the table, your hands curling into your lap as if that could somehow steady you. The warmth that had spread through your chest moments ago was now replaced with a twisting unease, a voice in the back of your mind whispering, This is it. This is when he sees what’s changed and decides it isn’t enough. That you aren’t enough.

"I know I’m different," you murmured, your voice trembling under the strain of your nerves. It cracked as you spoke, barely louder than a whisper. "I… I’m not the same person I was when I left. I know I’m not exactly how you remember me, and I—" Your breath faltered, hitching as you shook your head, your thoughts spiraling. "I just didn’t want you to be disappointed."

“Disappointed?” Ominis’ voice broke through your spiraling thoughts like a sudden, sharp wind, and when you looked up, his sightless eyes were fixed on you, his expression taut with something between shock and frustration. "Is this... is this why you've taken so long to come home?"

The question hung in the air, sharp and unrelenting, like the edge of a blade poised to strike. You opened your mouth to answer, but no sound came. The truth was tangled in your chest, knotted with years of insecurity and fear, and the weight of it pressed down on your throat, stealing your voice.

Ominis’ expression softened as he straightened in his chair, his jaw tightening as though he were holding back his own frustration—not at you, but at the very idea that you could feel this way. He exhaled slowly, his fingers tightening around his mug before setting it aside with deliberate care.

“Is that really what you’ve been carrying all this time?” he asked, his voice quieter now, but no less intense. “You thought I’d be... disappointed? In you?”

The lump in your throat grew heavier. "I’ve been gone so long... and you’ve built this incredible life here, and I—” You hesitated, your breath catching as you fought to steady yourself. “I didn’t know if I’d still fit into it.”

“You think I could ever—” He stopped himself, exhaling slowly as he ran a hand through his hair. “Merlin’s beard, don't you have any idea how much of this life exists because of you?”

Ominis leaned forward further, resting his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together. His fingers curled and uncurled against one another, as though he were searching for the right words. When he finally spoke, his voice was softer, but no less firm.

“Do you know what I thought when you walked into that shop today?” he asked, his words deliberate.

You shook your head, though he couldn’t see it. “No,” you whispered.

“I thought I’d finally woken up from the longest, most frustrating dream of my life,” he said, his lips twitching into a faint, almost self-deprecating smile. "And now, you’re sitting here, telling me you’re afraid I’d notice you’ve changed. Of course you’ve changed. I’d be more worried if you hadn’t. Life does that to people. It changes them. But just because you're different doesn't mean..." he swallowed, his words catching for just a moment before he pressed on, his voice quieter but laced with conviction. “Just because you’ve changed doesn’t mean you’re any less.”

He paused, his fingers tightening where they rested, his knuckles pale with the effort. His expression softened as his words seemed to tumble out, as if he couldn’t hold them back any longer. “That couldn’t be further from the truth, actually.”

You blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone, by the faint flush creeping up his neck.

Ominis sat back slightly, his hand running through his hair in a rare display of bashfulness. “It’s been seven years,” he continued, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Seven years, and in the brief time I’ve had to—to touch you, to hear you, to smell that very same perfume you always wear, you’ve only… Merlin, I don’t even know how to say this without sounding foolish.”

You felt your breath hitch, your pulse quickening as his words sank in. He wasn’t looking at you, not exactly, but the intensity in his voice made it feel as though he could see every piece of you, laid bare and vulnerable.

He exhaled slowly, tilting his head slightly in your direction as he gathered his thoughts. “You’ve only improved,” he said finally, his voice low but unwavering. “Despite whatever ridiculous notions you’ve been carrying around, you haven’t diminished. You haven’t become ‘less.’ If anything, you’re... more.”

“You’ve been away, yes," he continued. "You’ve faced things I can only imagine. And yet here you are, sitting in front of me, as strong and resilient and...” He hesitated, his lips curving into a faint, almost shy smile. “As breathtaking as the day you left. You think I’d notice the changes and find fault with them? How could I, when every single one is just another piece of the person I’ve been missing for so long?”

Your hand flew to your mouth, your vision blurring with tears. "Are you... you sure? You really don't have to say this, I—"

He shook his head, raising a hand to stop you, though his touch hovered just shy of reaching across the small space between you. “Of course I'm sure,” he said, his voice soft but insistent. “I’ve never been more certain of anything."

He drew in a slow, measured breath, his shoulders rising and falling as though he were steadying himself for a duel.

“I’ve spent seven years wondering if I’d ever get the chance to say this,” he admitted. “To say all the things I was too much of a coward to admit before you left. And I won’t waste it by letting you believe for even a second that you’re anything less than extraordinary," his voice softened, trembling at the edges as he stood from his chair. For a moment, he simply stood there, his sightless eyes cast downward as though steadying himself for what he was about to do. Then, slowly, he moved forward, kneeling on the floor in front of you with a grace that made your breath catch.

His hands reached out, tentative but deliberate, brushing over yours where they rested in your lap before curling around them.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quietly, his voice raw with emotion. “But I need you to hear this. I need you to understand.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but he shook his head, cutting you off gently.

“I love you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, his thumbs brushing over the backs of your hands. " I’ve loved you for so long that I don’t even remember what it feels like not to. And I know I should’ve said this before. I should’ve told you when we were still at Hogwarts, when you handed me the shop, when you left. But I was scared. Scared of what it would mean, scared I’d ruin what we had. And then you were gone, and I thought… I thought maybe I’d lost my chance.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, your heart pounding so hard it felt as though it might shatter through your ribs.

“But now you’re here,” he said, his words almost a whisper. “And I can’t let you leave again without knowing how much you mean to me. You are the most extraordinary person I’ve ever known, and I’ve spent seven years building a life that, no matter how complete it might seem from the outside, has always been missing you.”

You stared at him, your breath catching as the world seemed to slow around you. The face you’d waited seven years to see again—its every detail etched into your memory but now somehow more vivid, more real—was right before you. The faint furrow of his brow, the slight parting of his lips as though bracing himself for your response, the glisten of unshed tears in his sightless eyes.

It was all so achingly familiar, and yet time had made him even more beautiful in his quiet, unassuming way.

And you loved him.

You always had.

The years apart, the missed chances, the countless letters you’d written and rewritten but never sent—it all fell away, leaving only this moment. This man. The only person who had ever made you feel like you belonged.

“I’ve loved you too,” you whispered, the words spilling from your lips unbidden, your voice trembling but resolute.

Ominis stilled, his brows furrowing further as though he hadn’t quite heard you. “What?”

You reached out, your hands shaking as you cupped his face, your thumbs brushing over the faint stubble on his jaw. His breath hitched, his sightless eyes searching the space between you as though trying to see what your touch already told him.

“I love you, Ominis,” you said again, your voice steadying as you saw the hope flicker to life in his expression. “I always have."

His lips parted, his breath catching audibly as he tilted his head toward your hands, leaning into your touch as though it were the only thing grounding him.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

You smiled through your tears, leaning closer until your forehead rested against his. “I love you,” you murmured, your voice soft but sure.

A shaky laugh escaped him, a sound filled with so much relief and joy it sent a fresh wave of tears streaming down your cheeks. His hands moved to cradle your face, his touch reverent and tender as his thumbs brushed away your tears.

“Merlin,” he breathed, his voice cracking with emotion. “I can’t believe... after all this time...”

“Believe it,” you said, your voice filled with quiet certainty.

His grip tightened slightly, his hands trembling as he pulled you closer. “Promise me,” he murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips. “Promise me you’ll stay—I’m begging you—don’t leave again. Merlin, I... I can’t go another seven years without you. Not knowing where you are, if you’re safe, if you’ll ever come back.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I promise.”

[froidefille]

Day 18: a fic that makes you laugh

📚 The Superfluous Man by peu_a_peu

🎧 by @sweaters_in_the_summer, 2.5h

Draco/Harry, 24k, E

Summary:

A child for Harry Potter is a miracle of magic. And it's the second act of Draco Malfoy's sorry little life.

This fic is absolutely unhinged in the best way there is. It was written for this year’s @hd-tarot. It’s actually been recorded as a podfic BEFORE THE REVEAL, which made it a super interesting experience to try to put 2 and 2 together and figure out the author.  And it was my first time correctly guessing the anonymous work’s author! I was pretty proud of myself, I have to admit :D However, it was a bit easier for me because I was getting to know peu_a_peu’s classic Rookie Moves via SITS’ podfic. The flow of the narrative, the story structure and, which was the biggest tell – the humour, were so splendidly narrated! And when I started listening to the podfic I just thought of Draco and Harry in Paris being ridiculous 😂

The whole series of Twenty Cards has some excellent comedic moments. And then there is our The Superfluous Man. In which Harry gets pregnant with Draco’s baby. With a twist – they didn’t have sex xd *it’s magic* Then, understandably, Draco is a panicked father-to-be who travels to outlandish places with Luna Lovegood to gather some crazy ingredients for a nutty potion.

And it only gets curiouser as it goes on! I absolutely loved listening to the story unfold! As you know I listen to a lot of podfics, and lots of it while in public transportation. Well, the problem with this fic was that I could only listen to it at home because I would HOOT from laughter in regular intervals and was getting real suspicious looks on the train xd

Just have a look at names of parenting guide books Hermione is researching:

Male Mothering: The XY How-To What to Expect When You’re Exceptional  The Carrying Wizard Accio Village! Potioneer’s Guide to Conception and Gestation Vol. 2

Tag yourself, I’m Team #AccioVillage! 💜😂

Thank you for the delightful prompt @hprecfest and see you tomorrow!

Ps. Remember when I said „see you tomorrow” 3 days ago? Xd Well, fingers crossed it works this time

Hilarious quotes under the cut <3 I had to limit myself to first chapter only, it was simply too much ^^

Choosing not to participate was not the same as failing, Draco decided. “We don’t all hit the ceiling when Potter says Leviosa. In fact it’s possible to build a life that doesn’t even revolve around him. Probably not for you two, but I’m sure being an adult sidekick has its rewards.” “Merlin, listen to him,” Weasley said, not to Draco but to Granger. “Did we step through a Floo or a Time-Turner?” “As if, Ron, look at him,” said Granger, who was not exactly a nubile eighteen-year-old herself, thanks. “Can we please go? If Lucius and Narcissa come in here, I think I’ll scream.” Draco slipped his heel into his shoe and stood. “Am I being kidnapped?” “Dunno, are you a kid?” Weasley said. “Harry’s at ours,” Granger said, as they bullied Draco to the Floo. “Say, ‘Pig’s Nest.’”

I honestly don't know what is funnier, Draco's "We don’t all hit the ceiling when Potter says Leviosa", " I’m sure being an adult sidekick has its rewards" or Granger-Weasley house being called "Pig's Nest" 🐖🏡

“WHO are YOU?” bellowed the presumable Hugo. “Where’s Potter?” Draco demanded. He looked behind him at the fireplace, which was glacially slow in bringing forth this person’s parents. “HARRY is PREGNANT!” screamed Hugo. “Shut up, Hugo!” said another child, a girl and slightly older, clearly of the same stock. “Harry, Hugo told a man you’re pregnant!” “What man?” said Harry Potter, who followed the girl into the room. “Finally. D’you not get owl post or what?”

Rose is such a big sister in this one, IMMEDIATELLY telling on Hugo xd

“Now that I’ve met your charming progeny,” Draco said, “and seen your charming home, would anyone like to tell me what the fuck is going on?” “SWEARING!” said the children, from some distance. “ALL THE WAY OUTSIDE, PLEASE,” Granger said. “Hugo already told you,” Potter said. “I’m pregnant.”

All the way outside 😂 Kids love finding those little openings in direct requests like going just "outside" of the room instead of going outside-outside xd

„Art, though,” Weasley said, shrugging. “And you know what about art,” Draco snapped, not continuing: you slackjawed ginger yokel? You stupid, unfortunate hanger-on? Who should be absolutely fucking anywhere else on earth at this moment? Or perhaps not on this earth at all? “I’m an artist, mate. I’m chief dreamweaver for Tri-Dub,” Weasley said, impenetrably.

Draco, what even are those words 😂😂😂

[kissme-withyour-cherrylipstick]

Rules: you will be given a word. Then you share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that starts with each letter of your word!

Tagged by @linotheghost with the word FORT. Thanks for the tag! 🥰 I don't actually have a lot of WIPs with actual writing. Most of them are just ideas or outlines

F - This is from my Merlin/Game of Thrones crossover (working title Destiny is Coming lol)

“Fucking?” 

“Will!” Merlin took a brief respite from fidgeting his hands to shove his friend.

“Well, aren’t they?”

“Shh! That’s my parents.”

“At least you have parents.”

“Really? You’re going to bring the orphan thing up right now?”

“As often as I can.”

Merlin went back to warming his hands.

“Something else is bothering you.”

Merlin could never hide anything from Will. When anyone else thought they could read Merlin, Will would be able to tell them they were full of shit and see right through to the root of the problem. But that didn’t mean Merlin was going to admit it. “No.”

“It’s the celebration tomorrow.”

“No.”

“You’re jealous.”

“Shut up! I’m fine!”

“You definitely sound fine.”

Merlin sighed and held his hands out to the flames as if to control them with his movements, but nothing happened. “So what if I’m a little jealous? Tarja is eight years old and already she has her magic. I’m ten years her elder. When is it going to happen for me?”

“Merlin, not every Druid comes into their magic at all. Maybe it’s just not for you.”

O - this is from The Last Dragonlord Book Three. No spoilers since it is quite vague

Once they’d settled in together, Merlin curled in on himself, Arthur holding him to his chest, Arthur spoke.

“So what do you think?”

Merlin hesitated for the smallest of moments. “I think it’s wonderful. Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’s a big responsibility.”

“A responsibility I already knew was mine. I’m the last dragonlord.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to get so quiet on his last statement, but it betrayed him.

“Do you want to do it?”

“Do you not want to?”

“I’m asking you.”

Merlin sighed. “Of course I want to.”

“You don’t have to decide right now.”

“I’ve already decided. I have to do it.”

“We may not even find anything.”

“I have to try. My father—” Merlin bit his lip to hold back careless words. “My father would be so proud of me.”

R - also from Destiny is Coming

The next person in was another peasant. Arthur often had the unruly thought that if his father were a little more lenient with them in laws and taxes, they would have far fewer problems, but he had to quash that feeling, as his father so often reminded him.

“My lord,” the peasant began, kneeling before the king. “It is an honour to be in your presence.”

Uther waved him up. “For what do you see me today?”

Arthur also thought they could save time if they didn’t have to go through the entire supplication process.

“I beseech you, my lord, for protection from the coming winter.”

“And what sort of protections do you request?”

“There have been... sounds. From the north. My entire village hears them. It gets colder by the day. We have most everything we need, but there are... raiders.”

“Raiders? What sort of raiders? Outlaws, bandits?”

The man swallowed, doing his best not to shake before the king. “We have not had any yet, but—”

“Enough. Come to me when you actually need help.”

“Sire, there grows an unease in the forests! Snow gathers and with it come the terrors!”

“This is religious nonsense.” With a wave of his hands, Uther summoned the guards. “I have conquered the Old Religion. You dare to bring this up to me?”

“Sire, please.”

“Take him away.”

The man went willingly, scared into silence.

“Surely we could post a few men outside their village,” Arthur said, finally having something to talk about.

“And give in to their religious ravings? Never. I can’t be seen to be lenient to the superstitious.”

“Nevertheless, could we not spare a few men just in case there are raiders? With winter approaching, there would be more danger of bandits.”

Uther turned in his throne to lay eyes on his son for the first time. “You speak back to your king?”

Arthur had to pause for just a moment. This was one of those tests his father was always giving him. Whether Uther intended them that way, Arthur wasn’t sure. But if he questioned Arthur back like this, it meant there was a right answer and a wrong answer. Over the years, Arthur had figured out how to avoid incurring his father’s wrath with either answer by his choice of words. He didn’t always do this, however.

But he was pretty sure this time. “Yes. I’m the prince.”

T - this is an alternate ending for the episode Lancelot and Guinevere, leading to Merlin and Lancelot keeping in touch via letter and meeting up from time to time

The answer was clear from the look on his face. “My feelings do not matter. I will not come between them. Tell Gwen... tell Gwen that she has changed me forever, but some things cannot be.”

Merlin took a deep breath. Some things cannot be. What other things did he feel this way about? “Does this mean you’re leaving again?”

“I can’t stay, Merlin. And I certainly can’t go back to Camelot.”

“It was good to see you.” Merlin attempted a warm smile, but the coldness of knowing Lancelot would be gone again soon clutched at his heart. He stood and put his hand on Lancelot’s shoulder before he knew what was happening. “Will I see you again?”

Lancelot’s smile was as warm as Merlin had tried to make his, brown eyes sincere and holding Merlin in them with such care. “Count on it.”

“How can you be sure?”

Now it was Lancelot’s turn to put a hand on Merlin’s shoulder. “I just know.”

A small inkling of something larger than himself, something shared between the two of them, tickled Merlin’s chest and stirred the air between them until the entire world was contained in it, and Merlin leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lancelot’s.

Sorry the passages are so long! It's hard to find a good place to cut them off lol

I tag... idk who even to tag. The person who tagged me and the person who tagged them are the only two people I can think of xD But if anyone wants to do this, you are hereby tagged by me and I give you the word........BITE

[mythmerth]

fluff vs feel good merlin fics…?

It has come to my attention from my last post with the ask about a long fluffy merlin fic that I, perhaps, do not know how to separate the definition of fluff from my own definition of feel good fics. When I think of fluff I tend to think of lovey dovey feel good hehe type of fics. HOWEVER, my definition of feel good may be different than other people and thus may not actually BE fluff…. oops!

In order to make up for this I’m gonna list off more merlin fics that I consider to be on a “fluff — feel good” scale, but first I’ll give my own interpretation of “fluff” and “feel good” so you know what to expect!

— When I think of the definition of fluff, I think of things very lighthearted, low stakes, very lovey, being emotionally and PG physically intimate (soft), playful in a sweet way, and generally just not really having the highs and lows of angsty fics.

— When I categorize something as feel good it tends to be not very stressful, minimal angst, quickly resolved/humorous relationship issues, powerful characters, has a hopeful tone/no doubts about a happy ending, makes me laugh multiple times, and high in emotional and physical intimacy (and yes I am a Smut Enthusiast). Some feel goods have more or less of these than others for me but that’s what the scale in my head is weighing them on.

that being said, to the best of my ability here is the list ranked from fluff to feel good merlin fics! fluff fics are often a lot shorter than the plotty ones (but I tried to throw some longer ones in as well that I’d consider to have a good amount of fluff BUT these also tend to have more angst so you’ve been warned)

fluff

Twitch Your Whiskers and Pull My Tail by BlueSimplicity. Soft, sweet bonding, a bit silly

The Great Merlin Bake-off by Elizabeth. Long, low stakes, silly, so many pastries

Merlin Myrddin the Muralist by deanpendragon. So touching, very soft, strong and healing bonds

Nobody Expected Uther to Approve So Damn Hard by Nakyrah. Silly, soft, quick developing relationship

Tales of Magic by amithia. Soft, developing relationships, gentle magic/love

I know why the birds sing your name by ironfamjam. Long, hopeful, developing characters with gentle moments/love, some angst

We Can Always Run by kairennart and queerofthedagger. Long, some angst, strong bonds and soft moments, adventureful

Ironing Out the Kinks by Lex18. Long, so smutty, like 90% smut but also soft, quickly resolved issues

All Things Loved and Lovesick by horsecrazy. So funny, strong bonds, humorous miscommunication

We Are All Diamonds by Footloose. Long, strong bonds/love, soft moments, power duo, quickly resolved issues

The fools will still be fools by horsecrazy. So silly, smutty, low stakes

Evil Overlord Inc by Footloose. Long, very silly, power duo, high stakes but also not worried about it

feel good

I feel like with BBC Merlin fics it’s hard to find low stakes/no angst fics! maybe it’s just my lists, and also that I was trying to avoid making this all lower word count fics (there’s definitely some 40k’s I left out if anyone’s interested), but once the word count rises it’s tough to find. hopefully this agrees well enough, I scoured the fluff tag I swear but the angst sneaks up in there too

I also have noticed that I might not actually read a whole lot of pure fluff? I very specifically seek out mature and explicit merlin fics, which I think is partially the cause of that. Also merthur and fluff are hard earned; the rivals/strangers/enemies to lovers goes STRONG and so rarely do we get to fluff very quickly. There’s always some stressful situations these two are in I swear to god. also please note that I have read SO goddamn many fics that any rank inaccuracies are likely also due to my memory blurring on fic specifics,,, my apologies for this! so take the specific ranks with a grain of salt- I don’t remember the exact details of all of these, more so the impact they left on me as a whole!

anyways, I hope this is accurate enough and that you can find some fics here that are what you’re looking for <3

~ feel free to send asks if you’re looking for specific recs, I’ll do my best to find some that fit the bill :]

[cbk1000]

several sentences thursday

Tagged by @nejineeee

“Do you really want me to cut my hair?” he asked Arthur. “It is getting a bit unruly.”

Arthur rubbed his chin, one of those common gestures of self-consciousness which he made before he had done something dreadful, like feel a feeling; or which he used as a kind of fortifying aid against the terrible thing to come, which was that he was about to compliment Merlin; or, at least, he was not going to entirely 100% solidly roast him. “I like your hair a bit longer. Distracts from your face.”

“Yeah? Thanks. I like it when stuff hides your face too. I think it’s really sexy when I don’t have to look at you.” He turned off and unplugged the microscopes. “I’ll put a bit of product or something in it. Actually, I’ll turn out so well all your relatives would be more shocked if you weren’t gay after running round the countryside watching me wrestling cows.” He leant on the countertop, in toward Arthur, so he could say quietly, though there was no one else inside the room, and only people passing on to other concerns outside of it, “You okay about it, by the way? You know you don’t have to bring me if it’s going to be too uncomfortable for you. Though I won’t say I’m not going to be a little bit disappointed at not getting to fuck you in a castle.”

“Well, we’re not actually staying in the castle, it’s a coaching inn on the grounds of the estate.”

“Oh, well in that case, there'd be no point at all in having sex with you.” 

“Then I suppose there isn’t any point in you coming.”

“Well, I could be talked round, probably. I’d need a lot of persuading, though.”

Arthur looked away with a little laugh. “Right.”

Tagging: @the-pen-pot @aemelia @kirythestitchwitch and anyone else who wants to do this.

[matchavellichor]

Hello :D

How are you doing?

Your writings are just amazing!

May I please request a part two on how to win the girl? (If it's okay with you)

Thank you and have a great day/noon/night <3

A/N: omg i've had an unfinished part two sitting in my drafts for soooo long, thank you for giving me a lil reminder to actually finish it loool. it's rly short but i hope you enjoy!! <3

How to Win the Girl Pt. 2

Ominis x f!MC - NSFW/Fluff - 1.8k words - ao3

Part 1

Tags: Pining, First Date, Fluff, MC is Bad at Feelings, Ominis is a Romantic Little Shit, Pureblood Courting Rituals, Period Inaccurate Flirting

Summary: Following their tryst in an empty classroom, Ominis decides to make crystal clear his true intentions with MC.

“Ominis, you cheeky bastard — flaunting around your spoils of battle, huh?”

Ominis didn’t pause to indulge any of Sebastian’s teasing, though he couldn’t deny the immense satisfaction he felt deep down in being able to show her off as he carried her through the castle.

“Don’t be so chauvinist, Sebastian,” he said, biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a smirk.

Sebastian called out another sly retort that fell on deaf ears as Ominis continued down the hall, veering off towards one of the adjacent hallways that provided a shortcut for where he was taking her.

“Dragging me off to another abandoned classroom?” she asked, cheek pillowed on his shoulder. “You sure know how to make a girl feel special, Ominis.”

“Shush,” he chastised. “We’re almost there."

“You can put me down now, you know,” she said as he turned the corner on another empty corridor. “I think you’ve long accomplished your goal of publicly staking a claim on me.”

He grinned, the arm he had braced under her thigh only tightening. “Who said that’s my only goal? Maybe I just like you in my arms.”

Stubborn as ever, Ominis only set her down when they finally reached their destination, pausing at the bottom of the Astronomy tower’s winding staircase.

They laced their fingers together as they began their ascent up towards the uppermost platform, and though they’d held hands countless times before, it felt so terribly different this time. Intimate, yet strangely unfamiliar. There was a novelty to it, and it was almost like she was a fifth-year again, still fighting the nerves she got in her stomach everytime they interacted.

When they reached the top platform, she stilled completely at the sight before her.

Pillows and blankets were arranged around the middle of the room in such an inviting display she wouldn’t have minded spending the night there. There were little glowing candles charmed to float around the room, complimenting the dim orange light cast over the space from dusk bleeding into evening outside.

Her voice was uncharacteristically dazed when she finally spoke. “This is…this is really nice, Ominis.”

“Oh thank Merlin,” he sighed, letting out the breath he’d been holding in. “I was nervous it wouldn’t be the way I’d left it.”

She swallowed to clear the strange tightness that found itself in her throat, hoping her voice wouldn’t reveal just how moved she actually was by such a stark show of effort that he had put in for her. Somehow, the fact was just as thrilling as it was terrifying.

“Been planning this for a while, have you?” she laughed in a show of feigned nonchalance, following him further into the room. “Were you that confident you would beat me?”

“A lot longer than I’d care to admit,” he muttered, sheepish. “And like I said, I was confident my motivations were certainly stronger.”

She paused for a moment, her head tilting as she observed him. “You really do like me, don’t you?”

He shook his head, huffing out an amused laugh. “Did you only just now piece that together? And here I thought I was being rather forward.”

She couldn’t help but smile so hard her cheeks hurt, Ominis barely repressing his own grin when she laced her fingers with his and pulled him down to sit on the pillows he had arranged on the floor.

She kissed him then, slow and tender, as if in gratitude, as if she could pour every bit of emotion he made her feel into the kiss without being forced to say the words. It was almost too much, evidently even for him, and he inhaled sharply when she braced her hand on his thigh to lean closer.

He broke away then and she grinned, quirking a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re going coy on me now.”

“Never,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over her cheek. “But it’s not what I brought you up here for. I’ve already lost control of myself once, I’m not going to get ahead of myself a second time. I…want to do things right with you.”

“The world’s last standing romantic,” she teased, earning an eye roll from Ominis. “I have to admit, I’m disappointed you’ve become so righteous. I wouldn’t have minded getting shagged within an inch of my life again.”

Ominis’ features darkened at her words for a brief moment, but he shook his head, as if willing any imprudent thoughts away.

“Don’t tempt me, witch. I’m trying to be sweet for you,” he heaved a groan, running a hand down his face. “Also, I think Professor Onai would notice if I did what I really wanted to do to you on top of her pillows.”

“Good point,” she snorted. “Maybe she’s having a premonition about it now.”

“Well, I guess I can’t really be blamed then, can I?” he murmured as he suddenly leaned over her, pushing her down on the pillows so he could crowd her against the floor. “The threads of fate have willed it.”

She laughed, her giggles morphing into contented sighs as he peppered kisses along her jaw. She keened from the contact, squirming underneath him as she tilted her head back to give him better access, his lips dragging down the column of her throat. He gave a lingering open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone before he pulled away, smiling at the soft whine she gave his absence.

“I have something for you."

“If it’s anything other than what’s currently poking my stomach,” she said, squirming against him in demonstration of the stiffness she felt hidden behind his trousers. “I don’t want it.”

“Circe, you’re more insatiable than me,” he sighed, voice having grown strained. He reluctantly detached himself from her, sitting up. “You’re going to be the end of me.”

“Revenge for beating me so cruelly,” she smiled. “I’m a sore loser.”

“Keep provoking me and you’ll be sore, alright,” he murmured, pulling away to rummage through the shoulder bag he had brought with them.

She sat up on her elbows to watch him, tempted to instigate him even more. He granted her no chance to, however, as she was suddenly too preoccupied with the way her heart stuttered a few beats in her chest when he finally turned towards her again.

There was a small, dark velvet box in his hand. She stiffened immediately. As if sensing her unease, he cleared his throat, making some attempt at lightness.

“Don’t tell me you’re going coy on me now.”

She swallowed, sitting up. “Whatever it is, I won’t accept it.”

“Stop that,” he sighed. “You haven’t even seen it.”

“But I know what it means.”

“So what? You’re not a pureblood, it won’t matter to you.”

“But you are,” she murmured, voice suddenly tense. “I know what you’re doing, Ominis. This is the equivalent of a—”

“I know what it is,” he said, decidedly firm, as if this was something he’d spent a great deal of time considering. As if he couldn’t be talked out of it, especially not now.

She stared at the box in his hands for a long moment as if it was a grenade, and then at him, like he’d just bitten free the pin and was holding it between his teeth.

“I don’t understand.”

He quirked a brow. “Have I been vague about my intentions with you? I could’ve sworn I’d been very clear.”

“There might’ve been some blurred lines here and there,” she murmured, sheepish.

He deadpanned. “Then let me make this excruciatingly explicit—”

“Ominis…” she began, but he quieted her with a raised hand, as if already expecting her refusal.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything to you, I’m alright with that. Just accept it as a gift—”

“A courtship gift, you mean.”

“A gift,” he insisted, inching closer to present her with the box.

Despite his level-headed tone, his fingers trembled slightly when he opened it, revealing a delicately-wrought ouroboros in the form of a ring. A snake swallowing its own tail. An emblem of wholeness, of infinity, of…forever.

She swallowed hard and stared at the glittering silver for a long moment.

“Please,” he added in a whisper, almost inaudible.

She tore her eyes away from the ring to glance up at him, taken aback by the stark vulnerability she found so open-faced. She realized then just what he was doing for her. Flaying himself open, letting himself be exposed.

“People will think we’re engaged,” she murmured, taking the box in his hands despite herself. His shoulders immediately sunk, the tension stringing them up dissipating from his muscles.

“Would that really be so bad?”

She raised her brows at him and he smirked. “Only teasing you.”

She looked unconvinced. “Are you?”

“Yes,” he insisted, rolling his eyes. “I just…want you to know I’m serious about you. We’ll take this at your pace.”

“A heartfelt letter would have sufficed,” she said, holding her hand up to the dim light of the surrounding candles to examine the ring on her finger. “Christ, how old is this thing?”

She felt an array of mixed emotions about how nicely it looked on her, like its place was always meant to be there. Her nerves manifested in her fidgeting, twisting the ring around her finger until Ominis finally stilled her with his own.

“I’m not very good with words,” he said, bringing her hand towards his lips to place a lingering kiss to her knuckles. He ran his thumb over the ring, almost in awe at it being there, surreality shining in his eyes. “And it’s a couple centuries, give or take.”

She whistled, staring at the heirloom with widened eyes. “You realize a couple dozen of your ancestors are rolling in their graves at the moment, right?”

He shrugged, starkly unbothered. “Salazar Slytherin himself could manifest and bid against it and the ring would still only ever be yours.”

She stared at him for a long moment, narrowing her eyes. “God, fuck you.”

He sputtered, choking out a laugh. “What?”

“You really are the world’s last standing romantic,” she muttered, swatting at him when his lips pulled into a prideful grin. “I hope this is the full extent of any pureblood courting rituals you plan to enact with me.”

“You wound me,” he frowned. “And here I thought you would be positively thrilled about all the chaperoned strolls around the Manor I had planned for us.”

She laughed. “Only if the chaperoned strolls involve an unchaperoned detour towards some lonely corner where you can fuck my brains out.”

“You are incorrigible,” he tsked, feigning great offense, even as he pushed her down and towered over her again. “What am I ever going to do with you?”

“I have a few ideas,” she smirked and he shook his head, brushing his lips against hers.

“Trust me, I’ve endured enough years of pining to conjure up plenty of my own.”

[sugar-coated-prat-dragon]

Title: Merlin compared being kissed by Gwen to being in heaven. 😘💋

Bonus: Uther ironically referred to the glowing blue sphere of light protecting his son as Arthur’s ‘guardian angel’ 😇

Episode: "A Remedy to Cure All Ills”, and “Excalibur” questions and my thoughts.

Questions by @tansyuduri

Tagging: @miyriu @samwinjester

Books used for reference: “Poisoned Chalice”, “The Death of Arthur” and “Lancelot and Guinevere”

Note: I don’t have answers for these specific questions. But I did find more book references to support them.

Episode: A Remedy to Cure All Ills

Question: Edwin (referring to the beetles) 🪲: "These little angels", which is strange because I don’t remember the show ever mentioning angels before?

Angels usually fall under the umbrella of Christian/Jewish/Muslim (and a few others)?

My thoughts 💭 : I think it’s interesting that the term ‘guardian angel’ is actually used in the books and ironically, it’s Uther himself who uses it.

Uther ends up being the one to refer to the glowing ball of light that protected Arthur at the cave of Balor and from the Balorian Spiders as a ‘guardian angel’.

Although to be fair, Uther didn’t know the metaphorical conversation that his son was referring too of ‘someone watching out for him’ was a magical being or he’d have flown off the handle.

'I think there's someone watching over me.. he mused dreamily almost to himself. 'Someone keeping me from harm.'

On the other hand, when Arthur cast his thoughts back on the presence of the blue sphere of light, he considered the debt he viewed himself as owing to his mysterious guardian and what its presence in that moment meant.

Arthur also chose to call his mysterious savior a ‘guardian’ and a ‘guide’, rather than an angel.

Book description: A mysterious, glowing orb floating high above his head. He remembered how it had led him to safety the time he'd encountered Nimueh.

'I think there's someone watching over me...' he mused dreamily almost to himself. 'Someone keeping me from harm.'

Uther got up from his chair and moved round, considering his words.

'Maybe you're right. On your long journey to become king, you'll need a guardian angel.'

Their eyes met, and each broke into a smile.

- Arthur brushed the stonework with his hand, by way of a shrug. 'I don't know,' he said.

The debt he owed to his mysterious guardian was not something he could shake off.

(Source: “Poisoned Chalice” and “The Death of Arthur”)

Question: Morgana (referring to Edwin healing her): "But thank heaven he did."

While the word usually has a connotation of Christianity/Judaism/Islam. It can also possibly have Pagan connections?

My thoughts 💭 : Merlin mentally compared being kissed by Gwen to being in heaven and yet mused that he thought it would be less cluttered there (🫠 🧹🧽 )

Heaven was referenced several times during Merlin’s fight with Nimueh on the Isle of the Blessed. Including, the thunder, lightning and torrents of rain.

Book description:

- Besides, the room he had woken up in looked a lot like Gaius' chambers.

Heaven, he imagined, would be considerably less cluttered and dusty.

He cracked a grin of his own. 'No, I'm a ghost come back to haunt you.'

He was about to laugh, but Gwen sprang forward and pounced on him, stunning him into silence with a kiss. Wow, thought Merlin. Maybe the dust was only an illusion and this really was heaven after all.

- The sky exploded in flashes of lightning, mighty claps of thunder reverberating through the air as though all the gods in heaven were at war.

At Merlin's command, a tumultuous bolt of lightning leaped from the heavens, striking Nimueh's body.

He saw a look of pure terror on her face as the colossal forces poured into her, her arms outstretched in a wild attempt to dissipate the energy. Nimueh's skin began to burn with a fierce incandescence and her lips parted in a silent scream.

- The storm raged with incessant fury in the skies above Camelot.

Mighty cracks of thunder threatened to rip apart the heavens as torrents of rain lashed down on the ramshackle dwellings and deserted streets.

- Arthur looked to the heavens.

It was going to be a long day.

(Source: "Poisoned Chalice", “The Death of Arthur” and “Lancelot and Guinevere” book)

Episode: Excalibur

Question: Uther says, “WHAT IN THE DEVIL'S NAME?” (referring to Black Knight)

Odd turn of phrase given the time period?

My thoughts 💭 : The devil is mentioned once again in “The Poisoned Chalice” book, when it talks about preparation being key and the devil was in the details.

Hell is also briefly referenced as a turn of phrase after Merlin sacrifices his life to save Arthur with the deal with Nimueh and believes he’s going to die.

Book description:

Preparation was key.

The devil was in the detail, so it was said. And just as a story had to be told with feeling, just as a song had to be sung from the heart, so the true power of a spell lay in more than the incantations and material ingredients.

- Suddenly a tumultuous clap of thunder broke his morbid thoughts and he leaped off the bed, his pulse racing, sound of surging blood in his ears.

What the hell was he doing?

This wasn't how he wanted to die, being afraid to live his last moments.

(Source: "Poisoned Chalice" and “The Death of Arthur” book)

[epic-sorcerer]

How gay people were actually precived in medival times

Ok so even after years of obsessive research, it sitll took me until recently to finally grasp a medival point of view on homosexuality. I’m assuming I’m not alone in my not understanding of it so I figured I might as well break it down for my fellow Merlin fans.

So basically, there was no consept of heterosexuality and homosexuality. There was only “female attraction” or “male attraction.” If a man possessed the same sexual attraction as a woman would, he would have a female attribute.

For this reason, they were considered “hermaphrodites.”

Unfortunately I’m going to have to keep saying this word, because modern ones jsut don’t make sense here. But please know that it is widely considered a slur among intersex people and originates from a Greek myth where hermaphrodite gets his body murjed with a woman who wants to rape him. So. Don’t call people that, please.

Anyways. Hermaphrodites were considered a medical condition and had to pick a gender to be, as they couldn’t simply exist as a third gender. This of course carried a lot of shame amongst the people who were concidered hermaphrodites. The gender was often chosen based on what sex characteristics were most prominent.

So, assuming the only “female traits” a male has is his homosexuality, they would likely stay as a man unless they really did not want to be. And even then, they would have to do it in secret because any deviation from their strict idea of gender was considered a threat to society. Witch is why hermaphrodites had to live as one male *or* female in the first place

I think this puts in to a lot of perspective on how I write Arthur especially. I originally would write Arthur as feeling very emasculated by being queer from a perspective of toxic masculinity.

But looking at it now, is that not gender dysphoria? Of course he doesn’t want to have female sex characteristics. When I’m a guy, I don’t either!

I’ve done lots of research and sighlent lurking on intersex spaces for a while now just because. But I think now I’ll start using that knolage to my advantage to my writing because it’s more realistic. I think murjing my experience as a queer person and intersex people’s experiences would make the sotry make a whole lot more sense.

I would recommend anyone to simply just follow the #intersex tag. But yk….if you’re not intersex you should probably stay silent unless you have a question or something. They get talked over a lot.

I am thankful that I have a direct tie from my hyoerfixation to intersex because while I have done my own research without it, it’s still difficult to do just about anything if it’s not about Merlin. Perhaps some other people reading this struggle in the same way.

I hoped this helped you guys, here’s my main source that really helped me. And you can ask me questions if you’d like.

[eurydiceauxenfers]

Thanks for the tag @merbear25!

What’s the origin of your username? Orpheus aux Enfers is the name of comedic opera most notable for being the origin of the cancan song (it’s really good). I sing opera and I’ve also been cast as Eurydice/in plays about Eurydice a lot, so thus the name.

Originally my username was “Allthegoodbobdylanlyricsaretaken” which is rather self explanatory.

OTP(s) + shipname: I have a lot ngl. Shipping isn’t the major way I engage with fandom usually but if I to pick some of my favorites, Barbara Gordon x Black Canary, Rogue x Gambit, Thor x Storm, Marcille x Falin, Jaime x Brienne, Percy x Annabeth, BBC!Merlin x Arthur, and MCU!Thor x Bruce Banner come to mind. That’s not an exhaustive list btw.

Favorite color: Red. I love every shade from carmine to oxblood.

Song stuck in my head: A Night Like This by Caro Emerald

Weirdest habit/trait: I stim via walking, I like to pace or jog or what have you and people have noticed how I have a tendency to start running seemingly at random (it’s not random ok the story in my head was getting really exciting!!!)

Hobbies: I sing (mostly opera and jazz), I also act and sometimes work backstage, I play D&D and other TTRPGs, I read a stupid amount of comic books and I hike and ski sometimes. I also work as a volunteer EMS but that’s more work than a hobby tbh.

If you could have any job you wish what would you have? Please let me be a doctor please I’m begging you please please please. And if not that then I’d love to be a Broadway singer.

Something you’re good at: Memorizing random things. I have remarkable memory retention for the totally useless, especially if it’s related to mythology or history.

Something you hate: Garth Ennis licks goats

Something you forget: Everything. Names, faces, my wallet, my homework, you name it I’ve forgotten it. My brain’s memory card is full apparently.

Your love language: My giving languages are acts of service, physical touch (only with romantic partners) and gift giving, while my receiving languages are acts of service, quality time and physical touch.

Favorite movies/shows: Knives Out Series, GBBO, Father Ted, Castlevania, Dungeon Meshi, Vinland Saga, (pre-Endgame) MCU (Thor Ragnarok is my favorite movie), Young Justice

Favorite food: Italian deli meats. Salami Napoli and mortadella will kill me from heart disease one day but tbh I don’t care.

Favorite animal: Crows! They are smart, friendly and skrunkly.

What were you like as a child? Talkative. Hella autistic. I was always the least favorite students because I’d finish my work early and then I’d get bored. Once crawled through the halls on all four pretending to be a cat in elementary school.

Favorite subject in school: Organic chemistry (yeah I’m a freak), classical studies, history, I liked maths before it got hard.

Least favorite subject: My least favorite “subject” was gym (if you think you’re going to get me to participate in sportsball you’re crazy), my least favorite actual subject was English, because it was so subjective (I once had an English teacher who told me she hated me because I was better at math than her and actively tried to fail me for it) and Physical Chemistry because it’s literally hell.

What’s your best character trait: Honesty with myself and others.

What’s your worst character trait? A tie between my temper and my obliviousness- they do an equal amount of damage.

If you could change any detail of your life right now, what would it be? I would love it if we were experiencing catastrophic climate change please. If that’s too much I’d also like to be in medical school.

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Ooh this is a tough one. I think probably Benjamin Franklin. He just seems like someone who’d be interesting to talk to (as long as he doesn’t fucking hit on me). That or Alcibiades for being one of the Characters of All Time. I’d also love to talk to Jane Austen about her unfinished novels.

No pressure tags for: @varenychenko @marsprincess889 @perseephoneee @figsnpassionfruits @witchthewriter @honest-moth-of-silver-grove and anyone else who wants to join!

[morri-draws]

Gwaine x Reader - 'The Threads That Bind Us' - Chapter 9

Story Summary:

You, a humble dressmaker from Camelot’s lower town, are commissioned to make a new gown for Queen Guinevere. Impressed by your skills, she offers you the position of Royal Clothier. During your time in the castle, you catch the eye of one of the knights of King Arthur’s inner circle, Sir Gwaine. What starts as a sweet courtship is turned upside down when misfortune strikes and you must deal with the aftermath, as well as an unwelcome visit from Gwaine’s unpleasant sister.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Female Reader/Gwaine, set between seasons 4 and 5, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Words: 2,699

Read Chapter 1 | Read Chapter 2 | Read Chapter 3

Read Chapter 4 | Read Chapter 5 | Read Chapter 6

Read Chapter 7 | Read Chapter 8

Read on Ao3

Gwaine’s mind is a mess of hurt, anger and sorrow, each blow to the training dummy serving as an outlet for his intense emotions.

“You alright Gwaine?” Percival asks as he looks on with a teasing grin. “Did the dummy insult you in some way?”

Gwaine scowls in reply as Arthur announces that it is time to swap to sparring. He pairs Percival with Leon, and Gwaine with Elyan. They begin trading blows, changing between offence and defence, blocking, parrying and striking. Gwaine’s style is particularly aggressive, giving Elyan hardly a chance to defend himself, let alone strike any blows, before Arthur calls an end to the bout.

“Bloody hell, Gwaine, are you actually trying to kill me?” Elyan pants, eyes wide.

“Apologies, my friend,” Gwaine replies, patting Elyan on the shoulder gruffly. “I’ve got a lot on my mind,”

Gwaine crosses the training field to return his sword to the rack, where Merlin appears next to him, a training dummy under one arm.

“Are you alright?” He asks, frowning concernedly at his friend.

“Yeah,” Gwaine answers automatically, forcing a smile. He glances at Merlin, who’s grimacing back at him, clearly not convinced. Gwaine drops the smile. “No, not really. Have you got a moment to talk after this, in my chambers?”

“Of course,” Merlin nods. “Once I pack all this away, I’ll be there,”

~

Gwaine paces the length of his chambers, deep in thought and face set in a frown, until there’s a knock at his chamber door.

“Enter,” He says.

The door swings open and Merlin steps inside, latching it behind him as he looks at his friend with concern. Gwaine gestures to a small table behind him, and he and Merlin both sit down.

“It’s (Y/N),” Gwaine begins. “I’ve finally managed to speak with her. It’s bad, Merlin,” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “It seems my sister has been running her mouth, spreading nasty rumours about me, and (Y/N) came to hear of them. She’s been led to believe that I’m some kind of skirt-chaser and that I don’t care for her at all,”

“Did you tell her it’s not true?” Merlin asks.

“Of course I did. I told her that she can’t believe a word my sister says, but I don’t know if she believed me. I was too angry to say any more so I left,”

Merlin frowns, crossing his arms. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know… I thought maybe I should give her some space to think things over. Then she can decide what she wants to do… whether she wants to speak to me again,” Gwaine turns his head away, hair falling in front of his face, hiding the emotion beginning to show itself.

“So, you’re going to wait for her to come to you?” Merlin asks.

Gwaine shrugs.

“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Merlin says. “(Y/N) seems like the kind of person who might find that difficult, especially since I’m sure she’s feeling pretty terrible right now. She might wait for you to make the next move. Then you’ll both be sitting around, waiting for the other, torturing yourselves in the process,” He shakes his head. “No, you both need to talk this out, and the sooner, the better,”

“I don’t know, Merlin. I don’t want to harass her. She might not want to talk,”

Merlin’s chair scrapes back as he stands. “I’ll go and talk to her,”

“No,” Gwaine stands so swiftly that his chair falls back with a loud thud. “I don’t want her to think I’m sending someone else to fight my battles,”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it clear that you haven’t sent me. I’m a concerned friend, that’s all,”

Merlin smiles reassuringly before exiting Gwaine’s chambers.

~

You begin applying gold trim to the king’s doublet, the garment having reached your favourite stage of creation (besides the finished result), which is when it actually starts to look like something. If only you could feel the satisfaction that you usually would at this stage, but your mind is clouded and unfocused. No matter what task you set yourself to, always in the back of your mind is guilt and heartache.

You take a step back to inspect your work when there’s a knock at your chamber door. Your stomach drops. It must be Gwaine. You’re not ready to speak with him yet. Even though a full day has passed, you haven’t thought up anything you could possibly say to him. But now’s the moment, whether you’re ready or not, you have to answer that door.

You cross your chambers and open to door, surprised to find Merlin looking back at you.

“I waited this time,” He says with a lopsided grin.

“Indeed,” You reply. “The king’s doublet is not yet complete. I’m just working on it now,”

“Hmm?” Merlin raises his brows. “Oh, I’m not here about that,”

“Alright… why are you here?”

You open the door wider to admit him and he steps inside, a thumb and finger on his chin, brow furrowed in thought.

You cross the room to the dining table. “Would you like to sit?”

You gesture to the chair opposite you and Merlin nods. You take a seat as he does, clasping his hands in front of him.

He clears his throat. “You know, Gwaine is a good friend of mine,”

You avert your eyes guiltily, steeling yourself for a tongue-lashing.

“He told me what happened,” Merlin continues. “But he is afraid to speak with you again, in case you don’t wish to speak to him, and he doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable. So, I’ve taken it upon myself to come here and ask you to please speak to him as soon as you can,”

“Does he not hate me?”

“No,” Merlin shakes his head. “He’s just hurting. He’s extremely upset with his sister and… I think he’s afraid he’s lost you,”

Tears prick your eyes and you reach into your pocket to retrieve a handkerchief, dabbing the moisture away.

“I’ve spent the last day trying to think of what to say to him, but I just can’t find the words. All I can think of is how dreadful I feel,”

“In situations like these, it’s impossible to think of the perfect thing to say, because there isn’t one,��� Merlin’s blue eyes look earnestly into yours. “You just need to speak from your heart. When you see him, you’ll know what to say,”

You sigh, fiddling with the handkerchief in your lap. “I don’t know about that,”

“Well, I know this,” Merlin straightens. “Gwaine is a good man, one of the very best. There was a time when Gaius was framed and accused of treason. Everyone believed he was guilty, but I knew he would never betray Arthur. I was angry and I was afraid, and I felt that I had no one to turn to. I returned to my chambers one night and there was Gwaine, waiting for me. He wanted to see if I was alright, and when I told him that Gaius had not fled to avoid punishment, but was kidnapped, he believed me. He came with me, no questions asked, to find Gaius and to save him. Gwaine found Gaius and brought him home,” Merlin’s eyes glisten with the emotion of the memory. “He is a true and loyal friend. I’m afraid I overlooked that for too long. Don’t make the same mistake as I did. He has been, and will be, true to you as well,”

You nod sombrely as hot tears fall down your cheeks and into your lap. “I can tell you speak from the heart, Merlin,” Your voice wavers as you force out the words before standing and walking to the nearest window, looking out at the sky. “Do the knights have training this evening?”

“Of course,” Merlin replies.

“Then I shall speak with Gwaine after that,”

“Excellent,” Merlin stands with a smile. “Speaking of training, I need to make sure Arthur’s armour is in order,”

You leave your spot at the window and approach Merlin.

“Thank you for coming to speak with me. You’ve given me courage,”

“You’ve found that courage yourself,” Merlin smiles. “Good luck for this evening,”

~

You spend the next few hours continuing work on the king’s doublet, then swap to Gwen’s gown. The plan is for them both to be completed at the same time so they can be revealed together. Your body feels tight as you work, full of nervous tension for your upcoming conversation with Gwaine. While there is no certainty about how it will go, there is at least a small sense of relief in knowing that he is open to talking. You had worried that you’d hurt him too badly.

You sew until the sunlight filters through your window in that particular way, and you know that the time has come. You briefly check your appearance in the glass, tucking away any fly-aways and smoothing your skirts, before heading out.

You arrive in the wing of the castle containing the knights’ personal chambers and realise that you’re unsure which room belongs to Gwaine. You overheard his and Erika’s voices from one of the rooms those weeks ago, but weren’t close enough to discern exactly where they came from. You decide to just try one of the doors, and if another knight answers, you can simply ask for direction to Gwaine’s chambers. You knock on the door closest to you. Receiving no response, you move onto the next door, but also receive no reply. Your make your way down the passage, knocking on each door, until you’ve tried all, and do not receive a single answer.

You pace for a few moments, flustered. You’d worked up the courage to do this, your stomach twisting itself into knots in anticipation, and now… nothing. Taking deep breaths to calm yourself, you think what to do next, when the idea strikes you to find Merlin and ask him if he knows where the knights may be.

You arrive at Merlin and Gaius’ chambers, knocking on the door firmly.

“Enter,” Gaius’ voice calls from within.

You unlatch the door and step inside. Gaius stands up from behind a desk and removes his glasses, placing them atop the pages of an open tome.

“How may I assist you, (Y/N)?” He asks with a friendly smile.

“I was just wanting to speak to Merlin,” You reply.

“I’m afraid Merlin is not here currently. Is there something I could help you with?”

You consider whether or not to be open with the physician, and ultimately decide that there is no reason for secrecy.

“I was meaning to speak with Sir Gwaine actually, but he wasn’t in his chambers. None of the knights were in fact, so I came here, hoping Merlin might know something,”

“Ah,” Gaius’ eyes brighten with understanding. “The knights were called away on an urgent mission with the king. Merlin has gone with them,”

“I see,” Your anxiety flares. “Do you know when they are expected to return?”

“It is hard to say,”

You nod. “Thank you, Gaius,”

He bows his head in response and you exit the physician’s chambers.

You begin heading back to your own chambers in a sort of daze. You were already anxious when you headed out to see Gwaine, but now, not only are you unable to speak with him, he’s off on an urgent mission, and surely urgent means dangerous? You need to know more, so you change direction and head for the royal chambers.

You receive and answer immediately after you knock, and let yourself inside. Gwen turns to greet you from in front of the antechamber’s window.

“(Y/N),” She smiles. “This is a pleasant surprise,” Upon seeing your expression, her smile falters. “Is everything alright?”

“I went to speak with Gwaine,” you say, closing the gap between you and joining her by the window. “But he’s away,”

“Yes, Arthur and the knights have set out on an urgent mission,” Gwen replies.

“I heard such from Gaius. Do you know what they’re doing?”

“Villages on Camelot’s borders have been attacked,” Gwen speaks in a low voice, as if worried of being overheard. “Arthur wants to know whether it’s simply raiders, or whether it’s enemies crossing the border,” She turns to gaze out the window. “I shouldn’t say simply raiders. There’s nothing simple about them for the poor people whose homes are being targeted,”

“What happens if it’s raiders?”

“Arthur and his knights will defeat them,”

“And if it is enemies crossing the border?” You ask.

“Then it’s an act of war,” Gwen frowns.

“Then for the kingdom’s sake, I hope it’s raiders,”

“So do I,” Gwen turns back to you, her expression troubled. “Though I have seen first-hand the damage raiders can do. Those poor villagers,” She shakes her head, as if to dismiss the unpleasant thoughts. “Have you eaten yet?”

“I have not,”

“Then will you dine with me tonight?”

“I would like that very much,” You answer truthfully. You would prefer not to be left with only your own thoughts tonight.

Gwen smiles before heading to the door, opening it and poking her head out to speak with the guards outside. She closes the door again and gestures for you to sit at the dining table and she takes the seat adjacent to you.

“I’ve arranged for two dinners to be brought up,” She says.

You thank her, but find yourself not knowing what else to say in the moment. You can’t seem to think of anything conversational. You strain to think of something, anything to talk about, when Gwen breaks the silence.

“I feel I wouldn’t be a very good friend if I didn’t bring this up. I knew there was something wrong when you conducted my fitting the other day, and Gwaine hasn’t been his usual cheerful self either. Has something happened between you?”

You certainly hadn’t planned on unburdening yourself tonight, but when Gwen looks at you, the question in her eyes as well as friendly concern, you reveal all, every wretched detail, your composure completely lost as she holds your hand in hers.

“And I went to try to fix things tonight,” You continue your story. “But now he’s gone on a dangerous mission and he doesn’t know how sorry I am,”

“You talk as if tonight was your only chance to speak with him. He’ll be back,” Gwen smiles reassuringly.

“I’m just so worried something terrible will happen while he’s away,” You sniff. “Do you not worry about the king?”

“I worry for Arthur every time he leaves on a mission,” Gwen says. “And Elyan too. But I also have faith, in Arthur and his knights. They’ve been through so much together and look out for one another like brothers,”

You nod along to Gwen’s words, trying to find in yourself the same faith that she has.

“How about this,” Gwen says. “We can dine together every night until they return. We’ll keep each other from worrying too much,”

“I like that idea,” You wipe your eyes. “Thank you, Gwen,”

The dinners arrive soon after and you periodically remind yourself to slow your eating, since the meal is so delicious.

“Perhaps I should spend more time on my own cooking,” You remark. “I only make very plain meals. But it hardly seems worth the effort to make something like this for just one person,”

“Perhaps you’ll soon invite someone over for dinner, and you can put in a little extra effort for the occasion,” Gwen replies suggestively.

You feel a warmth in your cheeks at the thought. How you long for things to go back to how they were before, to feel easy in Gwaine’s presence and to laugh with him again.

You and Gwen spend the rest of the night chatting about a number of topics, until drowsiness kicks in, the conversation lulls and you decide it’s time to go to bed. You head back to your chambers feeling much lighter than you did before. Your anxiety for Gwaine is still present, but you feel as if you can bear it a little better now.

[isthei]

hi, i’m roo! i write and draw (mostly fanfic/fanart since they’re such potent stress relievers).

i try to keep a nice mix of my own posts and reblogs, but mostly i do whatever i want. i tag posts like i’m sorting things into boxes. also i yap a lot

about me:

he/they | 20s | se asian | multifandom artist and writer

ao3 | twitter (this is my only other fandom social)

useful tags:

my art

my headcanons

my posts

roo crows (personal posts)

current major interests:

marvel (fav: peter parker)

star wars (fav: luke skywalker)

ttrpg (d&d, city of mist) — i actually like to design these as a hobby

cyoa game development

i also rb things that i think describe the audhd and aroace experience! plus stuff that describes me in general.

non-comprehensive list of things i’m also into and reblog occasionally:

avatar the last airbender (fav: fire hazard siblings) | dc | dimension 20 (fav: misfits and magic) | disco elysium | elder scrolls | fire emblem | merlin | neon genesis evangelion | percy jackson-verse: pjo/hoo/toa/mctga | pokémon | spider-verse | star trek (mostly aos) | star wars

sideblogs, boundaries, ships etc. under the cut

sideblogs:

@istheiart — art-only sideblog. i am slowly reblogging all my art here

@istheialt — 18+ sideblog

personal boundaries:

hate groups dni. it will be unpleasant for both of us

if you know me irl pretend you do not see

if you’re a minor, please don’t follow my alt. i’m also advising you to block #nsfw. i try to keep the more adult stuff off my main blog but i don’t want to censor myself!

if you’re under 16 i’d advise you to get off social media in general but like. i’m not your dad

asks are always welcome! but i’m usually on mobile so it’s a little harder for me to remember to look in the old inbox—i might not see them right away

ships:

atla ships

zukka

kataang

azutara/kazula

aged up aang/zuko

i also like sukka but i don’t post about it as much!

disco elysium ships

harry/kim

fire emblem ships

m!chrobin

marvel ships

cablepool

petermj

punknoir

spideypool

spideytorch

merlin ships

merthur

pjo/mctga ships

percabeth

fierrochase

star trek ships

(aos) spirk

star wars ships

dinluke

[mania-sama]

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

4. What detail in Fiddler's Heart are you really proud of?

13. Are there any tropes you used to like but don’t anymore?

37. Promote one of your own “deep cut” fics (an underrated one, or one that never got as much traction as you think it deserves!). What do you like about it?

thank you so much for responding! i love talking about myself. i’m also very sorry it took me SO LONG to respond to this. i don’t have much of a reason to be honest except for the fact that i wanted to Think about my answers

2. Ahahaha my top 5 are pretty predictable! In order of the most common, we have: Angst (47), Whumptober 2023 (23), Hurt/Comfort (18), Hurt No Comfort (14), Angst with a Happy Ending (12). Out of 79 works, this is exactly what I anticipated. Actually, I’m a little surprised that more of my works aren’t tagged with Angst. Also that I don’t have more of my Whumptober fics tagged with Whumptober (2023), because there are 31 of those and only 23 tagged. But yes, this is EXTREMELY accurate to my writing habits. I live and die for angst. Make the darlings suffer.

4. My one and only All For The Game fanfic. I think my favorite detail is the addition of Jean having a sort of minor amnesia due to repeated head injuries. I can't remember if it's canon or not, but I'd think he'd have a word-related stutter/memory loss. Jean struggles to come up with the word "windows" because it literally escapes his mind:

Instead, he asks: “Can you open the... the...?” The word doesn't come to him, predictably, but Jeremy understands what he's trying to say anyway.

It ends up working really well with the first half of the fic, because he has a dream sequence of some of his head/brain-related injuries. I just think it's neat how the brain works.

13. I don't think I have any tropes I "dislike", but there are definitely tropes that I have fizzled out of writing AND reading. Which is, most prominently, royalty AUs. I think it faded out the more and more I stopped interacting with Merlin fics, which is fine. I still love Merlin, and Merthur will forever be a defining ship in both the trajectory of my reading tastes and my writing of relationships, but I just don't really care too much about strict royalty AUs. Fantasy and things of that nature are usually a little too involved for what I look for in fanfiction.

37. I wouldn't say this is underrated or that it deserved more attention, simply because it's one of my earliest fics that I currently have on Ao3, and it's frankly not even that good. But the answer simply has to be watch the stars glitter in the nightfall, which is a DSMP fic set during WWII. The reason that it's a "deep-cut" is because there is a LOT that younger me put into this fic in terms of symbolism. I tried to convey a lot of complex emotions that come with losing people to war in various ways, and it comes out in these forms: a boy getting drafted, after lying about his age with his best friend; two friends losing their best friend to the draft; a man losing his arm and innocnece to explosions and death; pink hair chopped into a military buzz cut; a family, drafted one by one; four sons, lost one by one from the war.

Also, it's based on a story my dad told me about my great-grandfather's neighbor, whose windows slowly collected golden stars as all of the woman's children died in World War II. The fic isn't a song title. The whole thing is... kind of dear to me, despite being objectively poorly written, and it ALSO being for the DSMP fandom. I refuse to take it down because it's simply a part of me and exemplary of my long journey in becoming the writer I am today. So it's a deep cut, 100%, for all of the above reasons. I may one day rewrite the story into a new fandom for a newer, better story that treats all of its themes with the respect they deserve to get. But it is what it is, now.

[fezwearingjellybananas]

A, B, C, G?

A - Ships that you currently like a lot. (They don’t have to be OTPs because not everyone has OTPs.) Friendships, pairings, threesomes, etc. are allowed.

I do have a soft spot for Flashvibe, and they work as romantic or a platonic pairing and either way it's great, I love their canon friendship, I love seeing @alittleflashvibe going off in the tags, I love so many of the fics, I love writing them, I have such a soft spot

B - A pairing–platonic, romantic or sexual–that you initially didn’t consider, but someone changed your mind.

Fairly certain it was a combination of @kitkatt0430 and maybe a few other fics that got me into Westhallen. I have a feeling this is the first fic I read for them, but Geometry and Promises I Should (Not) Keep are still up there as two of my favourite fics ever

C - A ship you have never liked and probably never will.

A certain one I don't think I have to name solely for fandom reasons, but I never really have been a great enjoyer of Barry/Snart? I certainly tolerate it more than I used to, like if I see an intriguing enough summary and that happens to be tagged I might still give it a try, and I have read some genuinely good fics that happen to have that as the pairing, but it's not a pairing I seek out fics specifically to read that one and generally you do need a good summary for me to be interested and I am much pickier about characterisation in those fics than I am in Westallen fics or something like that. New 52 comics I think I understand more which is probably why it went from a not reading with that tag to a more neutral stance, but it's not my cup of tea personally usually.

G - Have you ever had an OTP? If so, do you remember your first one? Who was in it?

This might surprise you for the oblivious aroace who didn't realise her friends were dating until a different friend explained they broke up three weeks ago, but I do not remember being particularly invested in romantic relationships in media when I was younger. There were canonical ones I was fine with (and possibly some I did not enjoy though tended to think of it more along the annoyed everything has romance in than realising it was just not a pairing I liked), and I guess I kind of liked the idea of Merlin/Morgana as a vague idea talking to a friend sometimes, but the idea of watching a couple with the end goal of wanting them to be in a romantic relationship isn't really something I registered as a concept until I started writing fic and joined Tumblr, so the first actually counts as an OTP was probably FitzSimmons from Agents of Shield? When I first started writing fic it was pretty much all gen and I'm not completely sure but the first ship fic I wrote was probably for them. In hindsight it should have been way easier to realise I'm aromantic.

Thank you!

[Alphabet Asks]

[gosiksmallspace]

Shipper Tag Game

Thank you @godotismissingx for the tag! ❤️❤️❤️

Sorry that it took so much time 😅

Okay let's go!

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care anymore?

There were some k-pop ships I used to ship but as time went by I just stopped. Maybe because I’m not as much into k-pop as I used to be.

I also don’t ship any of Hetalia’s characters anymore.

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Stella and Brandon from Winx Club or Kevin and Gewn from Ben 10: Alien Force. That was even before I was aware of what shipping was.

While I was aware, I think it was Shizaya? Durarara was one of the first animes I watched. And Heiwajima Shizuo and Orihara Izaya's love-hate relationship was so good for a 12-year-old me.

Or it could be SasuNaru…

3. Your first fanfic belonged to which couple?

Written it was Merciless. 

But read? That was so long time ago...

I remember I found some Ben 10 stories on the Internet and I read a lot of them as a kid.

But when I read and I was aware I was reading fanfics it was most likely SasuNaru or Darry. It was most likely still on Wattpad or fanfiction.net. On or those self-publishing blogs. Those were popular back then.

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw a fanart over?

Probably SasuNaru. Or another ship that was popular at the beginning of the 2010s.

5. Did you ever get into ship discourse?

I try not to. I mostly believe that fiction is fiction and when I don't like something I just don't read it.

I like to read people's points of view though.

6. Did you used to have any no-otp or have it currently?

Not really. I used to hate UkFrance from Hetalia but now I just don't care. And I never really shipped Destiel. But I'm not sure I would call them a no-otp.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

A new chapter of Merciless fic that I'm always waiting for was published. It's called Hidsight by duty_free. AND IT'S AWESOME, GO READ IT. It's a wonderful continuation to The Merciless that can actually fix those two morons (I have hope, it's still ongoing)

Before it, my friend @frayed-at-the-seams published her fic about Junho and Hoyeol from D.P. It's called Dogs and Cats. It's an interesting supernatural spin on the original story and it allows Junho and Hoyeol to be cute ❤️

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Of course. My absolute favorite obsession is Han Jaeho x Jo Hyunsoo from The Merciless

But there is more:

Roronora Zoro x Sanji (Zosan) from One Piece

Sakata Gintoki x Hijikata Toshirou (GinHiji) from Gintama

Shizuo Heiwajima x Orihara Izaya (Shizaya) from Durarara!!

Oga Tatsumi x Furuichi Takayuki (OgaFuru) from Beelzebub

Lee Dongsik x Han Juwon from Beyond Evil

Kang Yohan x Kim Gaon (GaHan) from Devil Judge

An Junho x Han Hoyeol from D.P.

Miyuki Kazuya x Sawamura Eijun (MiyuSawa) from Ace of Diamond 

James T. Kirk x Spock from Star Trek 

Merlin x Arthur Pendragon from BBC Merlin

James Bond x Q (00Q) from James Bond movies

Harry Hart x Gary "Eggsy" Unwin from Kingsman movies

Tony Stark aka Iron Man x Steve Rogers aka Captain America from Marvel Comics (comics only.)

Peter Parker aka Spiderman and Wade Wilson aka Deadpool from the Marvel Comics

Loid Forger x Yor Forger from SPY X FAMILY

Hino Eiji x Akhn (EiAn) from Kamen Rider OOO

Shijima Go x Chase from Kamen Rider Drive

Kiryu Sento x Banjo Ryuga from Kamen Rider Build

and many many more

Also as an exception to my k-pop rule, I still ship ChanBaek from EXO.

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Robin and Barney from How I Met Your Mother. I get that it was planned from the beginning for Ted to end up with Robin but did they have to make Robin and Barney so good???

Also, Merthur, like they had a whole story about them? All 5 seasons?

And Sterek. 

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

Zeke x Levi from Shingeki no Kyojin. I used to not be much into it but there is an amazing reincarnation comic AU on twitter (here) with them and I have to say that they have a potential.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, was considered normal but now you would be canceled over?

Not sure... There were some ships that I wasn't aware of age. I don't mind ships with big age differences but I like for both parties to be over 18.

So maybe as an example Levi x Eren? Eren was 15 and now looking back I'm not sure if I would ship it. 

12. What was your favorite crack ship?

Tried to think of something but my head is empty. I don't believe I don't have any crack ships!

13. Who is the couple you read more fanfics of?

Shizaya, GinHiji or ChanBaek. They have big fandoms so I could just move from one fic to another. 

Also YoonMin. I used to ship them a lot but now not really but I read a lot of fics with them.

14. What most of your ships usually have in common?

They usually banter or tease each other. Those love-hate relationships are my favorites. And more of them lately have an age difference.

15. What you absolutely hate in a ship?

Lack of chemistry? I hate too much drama but also don't like where everything is fine. And cheating.

tagging (no preassure): @daxianme @yardmargs @frayed-at-the-seams @bobafvcks @babischlong-six @stanaclown @igonecrazy @chhagiya @lovemevermore @ilikeallthepenguins @manproposes-goddisposes @backtomanyang @inashoe @darktecno @areththeimagine and everyone who wants :)