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wolferine · 3 years

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Unforgivable - Part 2

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: When the reader loses their temper, it causes them to commit an act they can never take back...

Warnings: Violence, blood, torture, death

Word count: 2372

Part 1

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @lilclownx @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife

AN: Please read to the end before you come after me. :)

Everything is a blur. The last thing you remember is cradling Natasha in your lap and seeing the pain of betrayal in her eyes. You did this to her. You couldn’t control your anger and now she had a bullet—shot out of your gun—in her back. You hurt her and there was no way you could ever forgive yourself for that.

You finally let Tony get close enough to take care of her, because you realized you don’t deserve her anymore.

You run away from the Avengers Tower, your leg slowing you down, but you don’t care. Each step feels like a knife rubbing against your bone, but even that’s not enough to distract you from the pain in your chest. It feels like someone has torn you open, ripped your heart out of your ribcage, and thrown it into a bonfire.

But you have no one to blame than yourself.

Tears stream down your face as you stumble through the streets, eventually finding some privacy in a nearby forest. Your sobs echo through the trees as you crawl hand over hand, your uniform shredding open on bushes and branches. The trickle of a creek calls to you and you dunk your bloody hands in the freezing water, desperate to wash yourself of your failures.

You can’t believe what you’ve done.

The scene of Natasha falling to the floor plays over and over in your head and you would pay anything to unsee it. You curl into a ball, wiping your nose on your knees. You deserve all the pain and misery for your actions. You’re so caught up in your head, thinking about all the ways you can punish yourself, that you don’t notice the group of men sneaking up on you from behind.

“Over there! Over there!”

“By the creek, see?”

“Wait—that’s an Avenger?”

“Looks like someone had a bad day.”

“Hey, Y/N.”

At the sound of your name, you finally lift your head, only for the butt of a shotgun to slam into your face. Your nose breaks and blood fills your mouth. You turn away, not even interested in protecting yourself. If they killed you, you would thank them.

“Aw, come on. At least give us a reaction,” someone says.

The shotgun butt smashes against the back of your head and you wouldn’t be surprised if it cracked your skull. Someone kicks your leg where you were shot, and you bite your lip to hold back a scream.

“Well, this is anti-climactic.”

“Hey, if it makes our job easier, I’m not gonna complain.”

“I still think Hammer’s weird for wanting Y/N over the other Avengers.”

“Given the circumstances, he couldn’t really be picky—”

“Stop standing around and get to it!” someone yells.

The men surround you, punching and kicking every inch of you. The bulletproof vest of your uniform does little to lessen the impact of their blows. You feel bruises forming along your ribs and your rattling teeth bite your lips bloody. It doesn’t take long for you to black out and the peace is blissful.

***********************************************************************

Sometime later—you have no idea how long—you jolt awake, finding yourself strapped to a metal chair in the middle of a dark, concrete room. A man in glasses and a gray suit with white gloves stands in front of you.

“Hello, I’m Justin Hammer,” he says, offering a hand, then withdrawing when he realizes your arms are tied to the chair. “Sorry, force of habit.”

You stare at him. Your tongue pokes around the inside of your mouth and you notice some teeth are missing. There is a painful crick in your neck every time you try moving your head and every breath you take feels like a razor blade scraping the inside of your lungs.

“You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m very familiar with you and your work with the Avengers. But the reason I have you here today is to talk about this man.” Hammer pulls out a folded photograph from his pocket and shows it to you.

It’s Tony Stark, but you have no desire to even think of that man anymore.

“Your best friend, right?” Hammer teases and you curl your lip at him. “What’s wrong? He’s the one who got you a spot on the team, isn’t he?” You look away from him. “I heard what he did to your girl,” he continues. “That must’ve felt like the betrayal of the century.”

“What?” you ask, confused as to what he’s referring to.

“I heard about what happened at the Avengers Tower. So tragic.” Hammer crumples Tony’s photograph and drops it on the floor. “Romanoff didn’t deserve that.”

“W-What are you talking about? Is she okay?” Your bottom lip quivers in fear.

Hammer kneels in front of you. “She’s dead, Y/N.”

“No, no…” You feel like he’s punched you right through the chest. “T-That’s not possible.”

“I’m sorry. I know she meant a lot to you.” Hammer stands again.

“How do you even know what happened at the Tower?” Given its security, there was no way news like that reached the public. At least not the truth of it. Maybe Hammer was just trying to mess with you.

Hammer motions behind him and a blonde woman steps forward from the shadows. Her face jolts your memory, but you don’t remember exactly where from.

“Recognize her?” Hammer asks. “She actually works for me, but she’s been pretending to be a SHIELD agent for some time now. She was right outside the door when your little spat with Stark went down.” Your mind flashes back to when you returned from the mission with Natasha. On your way to the private Avengers’ quarters, you remember passing the same blonde woman right outside the door.

“She heard everything that happened inside,” Hammer says as the blonde woman retreats into the darkness again.

“N-Natasha’s…She’s…She’s not dead,” you stammer.

Hammer shakes his head. “She went into surgery after Stark shot her, but due to the placement of the bullet, there were some complications and she coded on the table. They couldn’t revive her. That part was all over the news.”

You feel so sick you want to vomit. “I…I killed her?”

“No. You didn’t kill her. Tony Stark killed her.”

You start gasping for air, only worsening the pain in your chest. “No—But—He—I’m the one who pulled the trigger—”

“But you weren’t aiming for her. You were aiming for Stark, and he’s the one who deflected the bullet into her,” Hammer says. “He’s also the one who sent you two on that mission to begin with, wasn’t he? The reason you lost your cool and pulled your gun out? Think, Y/N. All of this is Stark’s fault.”

But the sadness of thinking you’ve killed Natasha is too overwhelming. You can’t focus on anything but your own guilt. You will burn in hell for this and you won’t even mind.

“Listen to me, Y/N!” Hammer snaps, striking you across the face. His rings cut into your cheek and blood fills your mouth. “I hate Stark just as much as you do. He’s been my business rival for years and I need someone to help me take him down. Who better than you, a former friend of his, who knows how to hit him where it hurts?”

You start crying at the thought of having to exist in a world without Natasha Romanoff.

Hammer tries getting your attention by slapping you again, but you’re unresponsive. You’re too lost in your grief to process anything he’s saying, and eventually he gives up, promising to come back another time to reveal his master plan to you.

It takes an entire month before he can even communicate with you. Your depression is all-consuming and their threats on your life have no effect. They’re startled to learn you actually enjoy the torture because you believe you deserve it after what you did to Natasha. But Hammer is relentless and finally figures out how to manipulate you into his bidding.

Six months after your capture and the accident, you finally crack. Your agony and pain turns into pure rage and hatred for Tony Stark. You can’t bring Natasha back, but you can get revenge on the man who took her life. After training with Hammer’s technology, which is almost as advanced as Tony’s, you’re deemed ready to be let out in the real world. Hammer personally asks for your help to kill Tony Stark, and it’s an offer you accept gladly.

***********************************************************************

Three months after the accident…

Natasha wakes up and looks to her right, disappointed to see the bed still empty. She’s tricked herself into believing that one day you’ll show up, ready to pick up the pieces and continue where you left off. But nothing has been the same since you left.

She sits up and turns the lights on. She scoots to the edge of the bed and carefully lifts her body into the wheelchair parked there.

The bullet had struck her lumbar spine, shattering her L1 vertebrae and paralyzing her from the waist down. Tony requested help from the best doctors he knew, but even the greatest modern advancements couldn’t repair her spine. He had personally designed her wheelchair, and she knows she should be grateful to still be alive, but she’s never felt so helpless and alone.

After the accident, you ran off and no one could locate you. Secretly, she held onto the hope you would return one day, but she knows your guilt and shame are keeping you away. She wants to tell you that it wasn’t your fault and that she doesn’t hate you, but you’re not even giving her that chance.

Tony made the public announcement that Black Widow had retired from the Avengers. No one knew she had been paralyzed, nor that you had unofficially resigned from the team. Without you, without Black Widow, Natasha didn’t know who she was anymore.

She leaves her bedroom and goes into the kitchen. Tony arranged most of the food and dishes down to her new height but she feels like she’ll never adjust to not being able to stand anymore. She locates a bowl and a box of cereal and rolls over to the table. She chokes down dry Cheerios and pours her second bowlful when Tony walks in.

“Thank God you’re finally up,” he says. “When you’re done, I have something to show you.”

“Y/N?” She perks up.

“Uh…no…”

Natasha knows Tony blames himself just as much as she does for her accident, but it wasn’t his fault either. She wrestled between anger and guilt, sometimes blaming you, sometimes blaming him. But in the end, it’s easier to blame herself. She should have stopped you the moment you took out your gun, regardless of whether or not you pushed her. But she got so caught up in the moment she froze, and now she was paralyzed and you were gone.

“Just come down to my workshop, okay?” Tony disappears again.

With nothing better to do, Natasha takes the elevator down to Tony’s workshop. She doesn’t visit often, but when she does, she’s always impressed by his latest inventions and gadgets. She rolls down the aisle of old Iron Man suits displayed in glass cases, admiring the subtle differences in each one.

“Where are you, Tony?” she calls.

“Over here!” He waves her down from the other end. “I’ve been working on this for a while, and I know it’s a little premature, but I couldn’t help myself.” Tony stands next to another Iron Man suit, but it doesn’t quite look like it will fit him.

The suit is curved to fit a woman, black and red instead of Tony’s iconic red and gold. Natasha sees a red hourglass emblazoned on the belt buckle.

“What…What is this, Tony?” she asks, tears in her eyes.

“It’s an Iron Widow suit,” he says. “Or, whatever you want to call it. You’ll have to get in and test it out for yourself, but it’ll allow you to walk again and…be an Avenger again.”

Natasha wishes she could throw herself into his arms, but pulls him down to her level instead. “Thank you,” she whispers, wiping her face. She never thought she would be able to serve as an Avenger again, but she’ll take the opportunity if it means taking her mind off recent events.

“Ready to try it out?” Tony presses a button on the side of the suit and the suit opens up, bending into a crouched position so Natasha can get in it like a chair.

She smiles for the first time since the accident.

“I am.”

***********************************************************************

Six months after the accident…

Natasha is in the gym, lifting dumbbells on a bench when Tony walks in. Although she now has a legitimate excuse for skipping leg day for the rest of her life, she now has to make sure her upper body is twice as strong to make up for it.

“Look who decided to slide through my DMs this morning,” Tony says, shoving his phone in her face.

Midnight. Central Park Carousel. Come alone.

The text was from you.

“Oh, my God,” Natasha says, setting the weights down. You haven’t even texted her since the accident, and she’s a little hurt you didn’t reach out to her first. “What’s this about?”

“I have no idea.” Tony shrugs. “I know it says for me to go alone, but since it’s from Y/N, I wanted to ask if you wanted to tag along.”

“Of course.” In a way, Natasha feels like the text is really meant for her. Central Park was where you had asked her to be your girlfriend. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

“I’ll need you to be on your A-game. We have no idea what Y/N’s been up to these past six months. I don’t know if you’re gonna like what we find,” Tony says.

Natasha has spent countless nights wondering where you’ve been and what you’re doing. Now she has the chance to find out. “It’s going to be okay, Tony,” she says.

He shakes his head. “Just so you know, I’m praying more for you than me right now.”

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Click here for Part 3!

AN: I never went to medical school, so forgive my medical inaccuracies.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff fanfic #black widow #black widow fanfiction #marvel imagine #natasha x reader

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xtodorcki · 3 years

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“Pain,” Levi x Reader

Summary: a love story that ends tragically

Soft boyfriend Levi🤧🥺

Warnings: angssssst, like PAIN pain.

One mistake.

One mistake was all it took.

You didn’t think the plan through enough, you didn’t slice the blade hard enough, you didn’t do anything good enough.

Levi had woken up to soft kisses being planted on his face, him wanting to sleep in weighed heavily on his body while you grew too impatient for him to wake up on his own. Your fingertips danced around his bare chest, your chin resting on the palm of your hand as you admired him.

“C’mon, it’s already ten in the morning, that’s a little too long for Levi.” You teased, running your hand up his chest and grabbed a hold on his chin before you planted another kiss on his lips then another then another until he grabbed the back of your head and kept you in place as his lips danced with yours.

You pulled back, breathless, and he smirked up at you before he had rolled over on top of you. He had you trapped on the mattress and you instantly gulped, looking up at his sleepy eyes while his hair hung down over your face, his bare chest inches away from yours and your cheeks grew hot.

Levi had chuckled at your nervous state, laying his body on yours and rested his head on top of your chest, cuddling into you like a baby and you slipped your arms around him, rubbing your hand up and down the skin on his back, earning a low hum from him in response.

“The mission is tonight... right?” You brought up, making him groan before answering in a low tone.

“No need to remind me but yes.” Levi wanted to enjoy this moment with you, they were rare to have them and he didn’t want to ruin it in anyway, neither did you.

Another mission had to be done tonight and you really didn’t want to go but it obviously had to be done, it was too important to pass up and that made your nerves increase as you tried to cuddle your boyfriend closer to you.

Your arms gripped onto him tighter, your fingers tangling up in his messy hair and your legs hooking around his hips, making Levi move his head to look up at the side of your face, nudging his nose against your cheek.

“What’s the matter?” He said barely above a whisper, one of his hands on your waist and he gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I just have a bad feeling about tonight. A hunch.” You felt stupid once you said it out loud, a hunch wasn’t a reliable source to go off of but you couldn’t help the overwhelming anxiety clouding your head.

“A hunch? Why’s that?”

“I just do, Lev.” You shook your head, trying to brush it off and wanting to long forget about it.

Levi fully moved his head to look down at your fear filled eyes, tilting his head and he reached up to brush your hair back, not knowing what to say but he tried his best to comfort you gently.

He planted a gentle kiss to your forehead, letting it linger there for a few seconds and pulled back to meet your gaze again, grabbing a hold on your chin with his hand.

“You’re overthinking it, Y/N. Everything will be alright and we’ll be back tomorrow morning and we’ll celebrate.” He smirked, running his tongue over his lips before placing one last kiss to your mouth before slipping out of bed.

You had whined at the loss contact when he got up, watching his bare back before he slipped on his white button up, his muscles flexing slightly as he pushed it on his shoulders and turned towards you while buttoning it up.

“Get your ass up, come on.”

Hours had went by faster than what you would like, you and Levi had stayed in your bedroom for most of the day until it grew closer to the time where the scouts had to leave.

You had shoved on your uniform, putting your hair up in a messy bun and zipped up your boots before you walked down the hallway to the room where all the scouts stood in, ready to be given orders by the Commander himself.

“We all know what the plan is, do what is needed to be done so we can hurry home.” Erwin simply said, not wanting to waste any time to start the expedition.

You had gathered up your horse, sighing under your breath as the anxiety in the pit of your stomach grew. Your anxiety has never been this bad but there was just something about today that made you want to puke.

Levi noticed when he saw your hands shaking while grabbing onto the rope, he stood behind you and grabbed a hold on your hand.

“Hey, if you’re not feeling okay then stay here.” He whispered from behind you and you shook your head repeatedly, turning your head just a bit to glance at him.

“No, I’m fine. Ive trained for this.” You assured him you were fine and he helped you jump on your horse, placing his hand on your thigh and gave it a squeeze.

“I love you.” He said loud enough for only you to hear, giving you a small smile and turned to get on his own horse.

All scouts had rode off in the distance, your coat secured around your body and your hood up over your head. You rode behind Levi with the cadets, the closer you all had gotten to the place, the more your stomach had cramped up, twisting and turning.

You had went in your position when you arrived, standing on top of the wall and held onto one of the blades, your eyes looked up at the night sky as the moon shined bright enough above, making the nightly Titans awake and dangerous.

“A Titan on the left!” You heard a cadet scream, shooting up a flare to make everyone aware and you had glanced over at the Titan who was running over.

Shortly behind him, there comes a big crowd of Titans and you gasped under your breath, hearing another couple flares being shot off in the distance.

This wasnt apart of the plan.

You used your gear, jumping off the giant wall and shot your hook to dig into the cement as you swung up in the air, flying across the sky towards the Titans and spun out both blades as you managed to easily take down the first one.

Another Titan was quick to reach for you and even wrapped his hand around your small frame, close to crushing you until you use the blades to slice up his hand and cut off his fingers.

It had been almost an hour and more Titans continued to come and you were starting to become tired and drained, same with the other cadets.

Levi had tried to keep his eyes on you but he was busy on his own trying to take down as many Titans as he can. There was something about the amount of Titans coming in their direction, like they were being told to all come here at the same time and that made Levi uneasy, maybe you were right about the hunch.

You had dropped the dull blades, putting new ones in and as the sweat gathered on your forehead, you leaped towards another Titan but this one was acting more different than the others.

He was far more intelligent and you had been distracted for a mere second until his large hand had grabbed onto you in an instant, in less than a second he had squeezed you enough to crack a few bones in your small body causing a loud scream of agony left your parted lips.

Levi’s head snapped towards you, the fear washing over his face and he had jumped, using the ODM gear to try to reach you fast enough but deep in his mind he had known he wouldn’t make it.

“Y/N!” He shouted, making your head turn towards him while the blood had slid down the side of your face.

Your vision began to blur, your eyes meeting the Titans large ones as he stared at you and you felt like everything was going in slow motion. His mouth opened, giving you a view of his big teeth and in that one minute, you knew it you were in a situation you wouldn’t get out of.

His hand had crushed you harder, making your body completely numb and a gush of blood splash your face and the Titan had let his grip on you go as you started to fall, you were too weak to use the gear attached to your waist and you couldn’t even focus your eyes on anything.

Levi had sliced the Titans nape, his eyes on you as you fell and he tried to dive to you, shooting the hook up in the Titans body to stable himself. Your eyes met his as tears began to sting his eyes, everything was coming to a reality.

I won’t make it, I won’t make it, I won’t make it.

Levi repeated to himself in his head, reaching his arms out towards you and he had thought of the last minute resort. He didn’t want to but, it was the only option to not let you land on the hard ground that would definitely kill you instantly.

He grunted, shooting the other hook down and watched it slice through your shoulder, making him wince at the sight of it but it prevented you from hitting the ground and you hung on the wire, slowly going in and out of consciousness.

Levi landed on the ground, quickly grabbing you and ripping the hook out from your shoulder, looking behind him as he saw the Titans come closer.

“Levi, you need to get on the wall!” Erwin shouted towards him and he glanced down at you, not wanting to move your body anymore considering how crushed and beaten it was.

But he managed to shoot up the wall, carefully laying you down once he made it to the top. Your eyes couldn’t focus on anything, even the moon was a blur to you until Levi’s face came into your view, the weak smile on your face made him panic.

“Hey, are you okay? Can you feel what’s broken? Can you move your legs? Arms?” He rushed out, half of it you couldn’t even hear, it was like he was far away whispering to you.

“Lev,” You choked out, your body completely paralyzed and your eyes closing and opening repeatedly.

“Y/N, please, move something for me.” He was convinced you were paralyzed, shit, he was convinced that you were dead and your brain was still functioning for the last time.

“Fuck, hey, Y/N, don’t close your eyes, keep them on me.” You never seen Levi this scared but your brain still couldn’t fully processed why he was scared and why he was panicking. was something happening?

You opened your eyes again, keeping them on his and your weak broken arm had moved slightly, just to reach up and grab a hold of his face. You were clueless and he could tell that this may be your last moments and your brain was tricking you into thinking you were fine so you wouldn’t go out in pain.

Levi’s face had been full of blood mixed with tears, his hand gently grabbing your wrist while the other had brushed the loose strands of hair from your face. He should’ve trusted your hunch, he knew you always had a good feeling about things but he was stupid, he wanted this plan to go good and now look at you, dying before his eyes and he couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it, you were too far from the walls, you were too far from a real doctor.

“Levi, why are you crying?” You mumbled, your thumb swiping across his cheek to wipe them away and you frowned at how upset your boyfriend looked.

“It’s nothing,” He lied, giving you a pained smile and he leaned down to place a quick kiss on your forehead.

“Are you sure? You can tell me anything, Lev.” You assured him, placing your palm on his warm flushed cheek and he couldn’t help but choke on his own sobs.

“I just,” He started off, closing his mouth as he tried to put himself together just for you but it was damn near impossible to control his sobs that formed a big lump in his throat.

“I love you so much, don’t forget that, please.” His breath was shaky, everything around them had frozen still.

He had completely forgotten about the Titans, his main focus on you as he tried his best to make you as comfortable as possible but deep down he was dying inside, hating himself for not being able to help you or take you back home.

“I love you just as much, Levi.” Another weak smile spread across your face before you started to choke up blood, letting him know it was nearing time.

“Levi?” You coughed again, still clueless on your surroundings until it had suddenly clicked in your brain.

His sobs had gotten louder and more obvious, the pain written across his face and the way he was repeating I love yous and placing kisses on your hand and on your face.

I’m dying?

You thought to yourself, furrowing your eyebrows and looking back up at your broken down boyfriend. He looked like a frightened little boy, latching onto your body tighter and held you in his lap, not being able to handle his emotions as they spilled out in front of you.

“Yea?” He barely whispered, cupping your cheek as your head laid against his arm as he held you close to him.

“Don’t be upset, please.. those cadets out there, they need you.”

“But I need you,” A whimper slipped past his lips and you couldn’t help but feel your heart break inside your chest.

“I’m always here, I always will be here. I’m not leaving you, Lev.” He stared at you, taking in uneven breaths as he shook his head.

“Levi, look at me.” Your voice was starting to crack and your body started growing cold. Levi was beginning to notice as he made eye contact with you, his bottom lip trembling.

“I have never loved anyone as much as I love you. I just wanted you to know that you made me happier than I’ve ever been in a long time.” You admitted, another big cough of blood had came up, burning your throat in the process.

You started to have trouble taking full breaths, your vision becoming blurry once again but you made sure to keep them on Levi, you needed to at least. And as you laid there, taking your last few breaths you had heard one last I love you from Levi as well as his lips on your forehead before it had went dark.

Levi stared down at you for what felt like hours, your eyes closed and your chest stopped rising minutes ago. He knew you were gone but he didn’t want to believe it. He hated him, he absolutely hated himself.

As his tears flood his cheeks, he felt a hand on his shoulder and he looked up at Hange as she gestured him that it was ready to go.

He didn’t leave your body though, he risked carrying you back on his horse. He wanted to give you a proper burial, it’s what you deserved. He kept you in his arms as he rode back to the main wall they stayed behind, he had put his coat over your face, he couldn’t handle looking at you as you laid there lifeless.

Everyone was quiet, they knew not to speak to Levi or even comfort him in anyway, they decided to let him mourn and do what he thought was right for him and that was getting home.

Erwin had helped bury you by the river behind the wall, close to where the base was at. He knew you liked coming here, you two actually came here a lot so he thought the area was perfect for you.

After it was done, he sat beside your burial site by himself and looked up at the stars. He had cried too much to the point where he was now emotionless and his cold stare was up at the sky, not knowing how to really feel.

He had held your coat in his hands, his fingers running over your badge that was stitched on and he closed his eyes, just for a second so he could see your face in his thoughts.

But pain was still all he felt.

Bruuuuh when I tell you I am crying over my own imagine—

I’m so sorry for anyone that reads this lmao

Send requests tho🤧

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#levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman imagine #levi ackerman imagines #levi ackerman x reader #levi fanfic #levi imagines #levi imagine #levi x reader #levi Ackerman #aot levi #aot imagines #levi headcanons #aot headcanons #aot fanfic

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perriewinklenerdie · 3 years

Text

Anything you want (Ethan Ramsey x MC)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x Claire Herondale

Word count: 3,1 k

Summary: They go home together for an encore. Added content to OH3 Chapter 7

Warnings: NSFW, strong language, by viewing this work, you consent that you’re 18+.

A/N: The dress in the chapter wasn’t tragic in my opinion but it’s not stellar either - so I went ahead and changed it.

The entire Diagnostic Team let out a collective sigh of relief when Leland Bloom turned around on his heel and walked away. After a whole evening of schmoozing and rubbing elbows with wealthy morons, all Ethan wanted to do was go home. And take Claire with him, if he had any say in it.

Tobias finished a phone call, turning towards the group. “I think we can call the evening a success.” Harper nodded, slipping her arms into her coat. “Let’s hope this sedates him for a while.”

“If by ‘a while’ you mean until tomorrow, then I think you’re right.” Ethan scoffed, but not at Tobias – and they all knew that, without the need to see a hint of a smirk on his lips. Their boss was getting on everyone’s nerves and the last thing they needed was an inside fight. Claire and Harper were ecstatic about it – maybe they would finally start getting along more and the team could move on from the weird tension that developed with a new addition to it.

“I say, let’s stop thinking about work and just enjoy the rest of the evening, however you might choose to spend it.” Tobias concluded, waving his hand at the group of doctors in front of him, then turned to Ethan with a grin. “I called you a cab too, E.”

Claire scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest with a challenging look in her eyes. “What about me? Is that some special treatment I’m sensing?”

“Nothing of the sort, Herondale, I just figured that since you two were so handsy with each other all evening, one cab for the two of you would be perfectly fine.”

Her mouth fell open as she tried to answer, but no sound came out. Instead, she laughed, shaking her head at her new acquaintance. Ethan grinned, not even trying to deny it, his eyes finding Claire’s, sharing a private look with her.

As their cabs arrived and they all separated, Harper called out after the couple. “Don’t be late to work tomorrow or Bloom will have your asses!”

“And try to not scar the poor cab driver with making out in the backseat.” Tobias added, winking at them before getting into his cab.

Ethan opened the door for Claire, sitting down next to her in the darkness. Their car turned around and started towards his apartment. The driver seemed to be too occupied with what was happening on the road to notice two doctors that were trying to be on their best behavior. ‘Trying’ being the key word.

They got out of the car as soon as they could, leaving a hefty tip to make up for his wandering hands and whispers that might not have been whispers. He wouldn’t know, he was too occupied with his girlfriend.

Ethan threw Claire over his shoulder, laughing at her surprised gasp. Henry, a friendly older man that worked in the lobby of Ethan’s apartment building, and who Ethan – and now Claire – were friends with, saw them and smirked, nodding at the pair wordlessly. It wasn’t the first time he saw the older doctor so loved up with his beautiful partner, and he hoped they wouldn’t lose that spark.

Claire did the only thing she could, given how fast Ethan was walking towards the elevator, and waved at Henry with a happy grin.

Elevator door closed behind them, leaving them in the privacy of the four metal walls. Claire slid down his body, stopping right above his hips, knees squeezing his sides as he held her up with his hands, gripping the undersides of her thighs.

Their gazes crossed, want clear in the way he touched her and looked at her. She ran her fingers through his hair slightly, the carefully put together hairstyle now slightly dismantled.

“I think I just messed up your hair.”

“Feel free to destroy it completely.” he muttered, nuzzling his nose against hers. She tried to kiss him, but he shook his head and opted to kiss her cheek instead “If I kiss you now, we’re going to have sex in the elevator.” She opened her mouth to say something - he beat her to it. “I wouldn’t mind, but I doubt Henry would appreciate it.”

“In that case, you better get me home.”

As he opened the door, Claire dug her hands into the pockets of his jacket, embracing him from behind. Standing on the tips of her toes, she kissed his ear and whispered. “Hurry up.” He stuttered, the keys in his hands shaking slightly. He made a definitive move, unlocking the door and twisting around. His arms went around her and he pulled her onto him, kissing her with abandon as her body pressed his into the door. His tongue ran along her lips and the moment she granted him access, his hand started searching for the handle in great haste. The door fell open with a quiet hum and they would have fallen onto the ground if it wasn’t for her quick thinking that caused her to twist them around. She pushed him inside, kicking the door closed with her heel, then pulled on his neck to slam them against the wooden panel.

“Do you know what’s been on my mind the whole evening?”

“I have a feeling but enlighten me.”

“Every time you looked at me.” He whispered, kissing her in between his sentences, each kiss more heated than the last. “Every smile you gave me.” His hands found their place at her back, pressing them flush against each other. “Every time you laughed or so much as said a word.” He pressed his forehead to hers, looking deeply into her eyes, growling his last words. “It made me think of the sounds you were going to make for me.” His hips pressed against hers, drawing a sigh out of her. “I would have made you scream back on that balcony if I could.”

“I was hoping you would.” She panted, gliding her hands up and down his arms.

“I still can.” He replied, slowly falling to his knees before her. “And I will.”

Without much of a preamble, he brushed his fingers up her legs, pushing the fabric of her dress upwards until it bunched around her hips. With unhurried movements, he hooked his index fingers into her panties and pulled, dragging them down until they fell to the floor, neither of them giving it a second thought.

Her shoes came next, one after the other, pressing loving kisses to her calves.

He looked at her with a storm in his eyes. “Hold onto my shoulders.”

And then he dove forward, letting his tongue swipe through her folds, lazily, tasting and testing her limits. Her hands grabbed him immediately, a soft sigh slipping past her lips. She’s always been responsive to every little thing he did - and he knew it damn well, judging by the smirk he was currently sporting on his face as he picked up his pace a little bit, moving his hands to the back of her thighs to press her even closer to him.

Chasing the sound he so desperately wanted to hear, he moved upwards a fraction, finding her clit and pressing on it with the tip of his tongue. A broken moan escaped her, her grip on his jacket tightening so much that her knuckles began to turn white.

Encouraged, he fully focused on that spot, closing his mouth around it and sucking gently, then with more force, alternating between the two paces. Playing her like his cello.

Claire moved her fingers towards his head, grabbing a fistful of his hair when his teeth grazed a sensitive bundle of nerves, moaning his name into the dead of the night. He squeezed her ass, staring up at her, savoring the flush on her cheeks, the hungry eyes she was giving him and the absolute look of ecstasy that slowly overtook her features. She was close, so close that keeping her voice down was becoming impossible. And he didn’t want her to be quiet. He moved one of her legs onto his shoulder, then the other, balancing her with his hands.

“Come for me.”

He grinned widely when she gave him a sigh, then went in for the kill and focused on pushing her over the edge. The new position changed the angle only slightly, but just enough to make her sing him praises the moment his lips made contact with her soft flesh again.

Alternating between firm strokes and insistent lapping, he made her rise higher and higher, her voice following suit as she whimpered and chanted his name until she pulled on his hair and came, her eyes falling shut. Ethan squeezed her again, a silent plea for her to keep looking at him as he guided her through it.

Their eyes met and remained locked long after the sparks stopped coming. Claire laughed breathily, sliding her legs off his shoulders slowly. He held her upwards, anticipating the weakness of her knees, stroking her thighs gently.

“How was that?”

“Like you have to ask.” She scoffed, brushing his hair back tenderly. Ethan smirked.

“I just love hearing you tell me how good I am.”

“How about I show you just how good you are?”

Claire pulled him up to his feet, then pushed on his shoulders to guide them towards the bedroom, stripping him of his clothes along the way. His jacket. On the floor. His shirt. Hanging off the door. His pants. Forgotten by the bed.

When she reached for his underwear, he caught her hand. “Not so fast. You’re overdressed.”

“I thought you liked the dress.”

“I do. Which is why I want to rip it in half.”

He reached for the zipper of her dress, dragging it down with surprising gentleness of movements, taking his sweet time to uncover each part of her body. The fabric didn’t even hit the ground before she kicked it away from them. His hands flew up to her sides immediately, feeling every and any part of her he could reach. The tips of his fingers trailed a path up her back, reaching the clasp of her bra, but before he could undo it, she shook her head and moved his hands back to her hips.

“You had your fun. Now it’s my turn.” She muttered, then hooked her fingers beneath his underwear and tugged, pushing it down his legs the same way he pushed hers a while back.

With a sly smirk, she sat him on the edge of the bed and sank down to her knees, once again mirroring his moves. With the tip of her finger, she traced nonsensical patterns along his inner thigh while leaning forward to plant a path of openmouthed kisses from one hipbone to the other. A shiver ran through him, making him realize that he was entirely at her mercy, not for the first time, and – he hoped – not for the last time.

Claire seemed to make it her point to avoid eye contact – she didn’t even so much as glance up before she ran her tongue over the tip of his cock. His mind perked up instantly, acutely aware of even the smallest of her movements.

She closed her lips around him, sucking gently, drawing out a whimper out of him that sounded like a plea. When she licked along the vein on the underside, the whimper turned into a rather insistent moan.

Only when she finally took him into her mouth, inch by glorious inch, did she make eye contact with him. Dark eyes, pulling him further into the whirlwind of ecstasy she provided, the small hums she let out creating the most delicious vibrations that sent him flying even higher off the ground. And a playful spark, telling him that she knew exactly what she was doing when she denied him the luxury of staring into her eyes as she began her exploration.

Ethan’s fingers flew to her hair, guiding her gently as she worked, up and down his length in a slow and rhythmic pattern, familiar sparks of electricity running over his spine. Before he could stop himself, a very vivid and a very insistent image flooded his mind, and his mouth was suddenly opening to speak.

“I had this dream and - fuck - you couldn’t keep your hands off me” he panted, his hips moving off the bed slightly when he felt her tongue join the movements of her lips once more.

“Really?” She murmured, having retreated and resorted to licking him slowly. With her hands, she undid the clasp of her bra and let the fabric fall to the ground somewhere behind them, neither caring where it landed. Ethan swallowed heavily. “You dream about me?”

“Every night”

“Well then, how about you show me what you dream of?”

His eyes darkened, blue turning into a shade so deep that she couldn’t tell what color they were, and suddenly she wasn’t on the floor anymore. Instead, she was seated in his lap, facing away from him, her legs spread wide, knees locking him in place. The mirror on the wall showed them both a picture of two people, perfectly fit for each other – so in love that they could see it in their eyes and bodies, despite having not said a word about the said emotion.

Ethan pressed his lips to her ear, his breath hot against her skin. “Are you ready?”

“Fuck me, Ethan.”

With a groan, he lifted her off his lap just enough so he could slide into her, letting her sink down with a shuddered breath. They remained that way for a moment or two, just feeling the closeness of one another. Ethan’s eyes fell shut, his forehead pressed against her shoulder, and he wondered what he did to get her. What number of good deeds did he manage to gather up for the universe to set her on his path.

All that debating was cut short when she squeezed her inner muscles, letting him know that she wanted them to move. He opened his eyes again, only to be met with the same image in the mirror. This time, however, it unlocked something primal in him, his body unable to stay put any longer, his brain craving anything she could give him.

His hands fell to her hips and he lifted her up slowly, letting her sink back onto him. And again, with shuddered breath brushing against the skin of her back. Their eyes met in the mirror as Claire picked up the pace herself, rising on her knees and falling.

“Look at you, taking me so well.” He whispered into her ear, looking at her the entire time. She bit her lip, sighing heavily.

Claire’s hand went behind her, reaching for his neck. With her fingers twisted into the hair at the back of his head, she pulled him closer, anchoring herself as he kissed her skin and stroked her from the inside. He had one palm spread over her chest, tracing her nipples and pinching them from time to time, while his other hand found itself a place between her legs, teasing her with fleeting touches.

She gripped his thigh with her free hand, holding onto him any way she could, panting heavily as the sensations continue to flow through her. Flooding her with mind-numbing pleasure, almost blinding her. Closing her eyes for just a moment, she tried to shield herself from it, when Ethan’s voice rang in her ear.

“Open your eyes.”

And she does, staring at the two of them, reflected in the mirror. Two lovers, entangled in each other, hands grabbing and pulling, mouths open in silent pleas. His hips snap up into her and she slams down onto him, the sound of skin hitting skin bordering on obscene. But they were alone, free to do whatever they wanted, even if it was to press each other’s naked bodies onto any surface available.

“Again. Give it to me again.” Ethan groans, unable to stop the urge to bite down on her shoulder when her muscles spasm around him exceptionally tightly, convincing him that he must have died and gone to heaven.

She moaned and stood up, which would have made him protest if it wasn’t for the fact that just a second later, she was climbing onto his lap again, facing him, wrapping her arms around his neck and sinking down onto him. His hands were full of her once more, grabbing her ass to guide her, giving as good as he was receiving.

With his head buried in her chest, kissing and nipping on her skin, making sure that there was no way she could wear a regular blouse the next day without exposing his marks, he pressed into her deeply, reaching his peak and muttering her name so many times that it’s become a blur with one common theme – devotion.

Claire nodded, pulling him close to her by his hair, her insistent movements helping him ride it out as she searched for the spark to throw her off the edge. His fingers, back in the same spot his mouth was at not that long ago, did the trick, circling and squeezing her until she cracked with a loud sigh.

Ethan leaned away, guiding her towards him so their lips could meet in a lazy kiss. He fell backwards onto the bed, pulling out and twisting them around so he could hover over her, hand on her hip as he explored her mouth leisurely. When they eventually separated, both breathing heavily, a relaxed smile washed onto his face. Claire observed him with a look of wonder.

“I like seeing you like this.”

“Sated after sex?”

“No.” she shook her head, very obviously trying not to laugh at his equally obvious attempt to crack a joke. “Relaxed. Happy.”

“Well, you make me very happy.” He responded, lying down and pulling her to his side, his lips pressing a warm kiss to her forehead. She sighed contentedly, letting her eyes close. Ethan’s voice broke the silence. “Are you?”

“What, happy?”

“Yeah.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, almost insecure. Like he was afraid of her answer. Claire propped herself on her elbow so she could look at him. Locking her eyes with his, she nodded softly.

“More than you can imagine.”

All the tension left his body, a wonderful smile lighting up his face. He reached up with his hand, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers. “I think I can.”

Notes

Until further notice, I’m pulling the Mariah and I suddenly can’t read the ending. The balcony scene was good, though.

Thank you for reading! <3

Tagging separately

#ethan ramsey #open heart #playchoices

169 notes · View notes

akampana · 3 years

Note

Can I request diarturia in 6 please 🥺🥺👉👈

6. “I just need to lie down.” Diarturia.

Hi! :D Thank you for the ask! Always glad to do some Diarturia!

Words: 10,031 (lmao, this went places)

I wanted to incorporate some fae shenanigans as well as explore Diarmuid's demigod side as the son of the god of the dead, so this is a little different take on the characters from what I usually do. Regardless, hope you enjoy!

AO3 link here because this thing is long.

Arturia stumbled through the trees in panic, thorns ripping through the thin linen of her dress like knives through paper. Everywhere she looked it was the same: jagged branches whipping her from every angle, roots latching on to her feet like venomous snakes, and worst of all, the noose-like vines that stole the air from her lungs at every opportunity.

The girl suddenly recoiled, yanked to the ground by the cursed greenery that wrapped around her throat. Her desperate fingers looped around the offensive twine, tearing at the woody growth and her own skin, but it only seemed to wrap around tighter the more she fought. Soon she was face-first on the grass. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as her lips turned as blue as the sky.

No!

She scrambled for something, anything to get her some air. Her fingers dug through the dirt, grabbing onto sticks, cutting her nails on pebbles and root. But, it seemed the Earth itself had decided to wage war on one, green-eyed, blonde, spawn of Uther. The sacrifice. The extra.

Her vision began to fill with black stars. Her lungs screamed for the air her mouth could not provide. She could do nothing as the creatures that hunted her came upon the clearing she’d fallen into, nothing but claw at her neck for one last, sweet breath.

As her consciousness began to fade, she wondered what she’d done to deserve such a fate. She’d lived her life according to her father’s wishes. She learned from her tutors. She kept silent and out of the limelight. She supported her brother the best way she could. Was that not enough?

If only she knew it was no fault of hers that she ended up here.

Merlin’s intercession to produce an appropriate heir had failed, birthing a tiny girl instead of what the king wished for. In Uther’s desperate attempt to save Britain, the ailing, anxious King of Camelot turned to the fae. He pleaded with them, promising this, and that, everything as long as his country would not meet its end at the prophesized red dragon’s claws.

The mischievous, conniving fae gave Uther a son to raise along with his shunned daughter, knowing even then who was the superior heir. They even mirrored the poor baby’s features, such that Igraine’s womb produced “twins”. Oh, how perfectly the fae copied the incubus’s creation, everything save for its little flaws, all so Uther could damn a different child to the same tragic fate.

Satisfied with his prize, the King tried to make payment. But the fae were not interested in being showered with riches. They needed no fruit of the field when the Otherworld was abundant in goods. No, what they wanted was Merlin’s lovely little experiment, and all the energy that philandering wizard fused into that tiny girl.

But not yet.

The fae would claim their payment when she was ripe for the picking, delicious, still young, of course, but not too aged that she’d taste more like mutton than lamb. Just grown enough such that her little dragon-like core would give the fae the kick they needed when they sank their teeth into her soft, supple skin.

After all, eighteen human years was not too long a wait.

“Are you not happy, my lady?”

Arturia turned around to meet the eyes of one much taller, much stronger, much more beautiful than her. She tried not to flinch too much, lest the nobles say her gown was disheveled or that she’d shifted her carefully done-up braids once again.

“Diarmuid, you...you gave me a fright.”

Arturia glanced behind her personal knight, off to the festival taking place in the main hall. The party was more Arthur’s than it was hers, because it was his coronation as prince occurring on the morrow. In a way, she was grateful for it, for at least once in her life there weren’t fifteen or so suitors asking for her hand. For better access to Camelot’s resources, of course. Arturia wasn’t stupid enough to believe they were honestly attracted to her.

None of them knew her, not really. What could they learn when all they heard from her were the manners beaten into her head by the tutors Uther hired to make her desirable to the male gaze? None of them knew her actual interests. None of them cared. Although, she did suppose feelings didn’t quite factor into marriages as much as Merlin tried to make her believe they did.

Arturia sighed, turning back to the night view of Camelot that had her so preoccupied and the forest that lay just outside the limits. One day, maybe even tomorrow, one of the men conversing with Arthur was going to take her away and she would go with him as her duty dictated. She’d make sure her husband’s kingdom remained Camelot’s ally, of course. Then bear her spouse an heir. That was her duty as one with the Pendragon blood, one she was ready to carry out.

“I do not believe you have answered me, princess,” Diarmuid chuckled, draping the finest of silks over her bare shoulders before the night air could chill her skin.

Arturia thumbed the soft fabric, bringing before her eyes the sheer, almost glowing cloth. The garment was an iridescent white, shining in colors not unlike the rainbow patterns on a beetle’s shell. Although it felt lighter than air,her shivers disappeared instantly, as if her knight had just embraced her from behind to share his heat.

The woman’s eyes lit up with wonder, seeing the skillful repeated pattern traveling all-throughout the hem. There were more than a few druidic symbols embroidered throughout, each sewn in a thread that harmonized with the cloth enough that from a distance it was just a simple shawl. She recognized all of them: knots, trees...symbols that were important to those who were born on Erin. Diarmuid had introduced them to her before.

“What is this?” she asked him, tone lifted as she faced the friend that stood beside her, looking out into the distance.

“A gift,” answered the gentle knight, surveying his surroundings before scooping up Arturia’s hand and bringing it to his lips. “Although today’s festivities have made the town believe otherwise, the actual day of your birth comes tomorrow, does it not?”

He remembered. Arturia kissed her teeth, a smile slowly breaking through her rather serious facade.

“Although it is quite early, I thought it best to deliver this simple celebratory offering before your handmaids spend hours dressing you for Arthur’s coronation in the morning,” he explained, gently pulling the lady he served closer to himself.

“I am happy now,” she answered him, emphasizing the final word such that he knew he was the cause. “This is far from just a simple gift, my knight. I do not know how to repay you, as it seems you’ve forgotten the most important fact about tomorrow.”

The corners of his amber eyes crinkled as he laughed. “I assure you, it has not escaped my notice, Lady Arturia.”

That was the other reason Diarmuid had pulled out all the stops for this gift. It was true that tomorrow, the twins would be of marriageable age, but tomorrow was also the anniversary of the moment they first met.

Lady Arturia was not aware this was his second life. After his death to the tusks of a boar and his former king’s neglect, his godly father had permitted him back to the world of the living to seek a better fate. A happier one, where he could live out the life of service he desired before returning to Tech Duinn. Donn sent his son off with his blessing, even teasing him to bring back a proper spouse.

It was not the kings of his homeland he could serve, however, for his face would surely be recognizable in the countenances of his descendants. Instead, the Irish knight came to Camelot, seeking out a lord who was kind and just: The Once and Future King, as so prophesied by his kind.

It was then he’d first met Lady Arturia, by a cabin in the woods. He’d come running, excited by the familiar clang of swords, only to find two of the same face sparring in the backyard. One was strong and tall, the other small but lithe. He could tell at a glance that the two had the same foundation, for their strikes and stances were similar, but clearly, each had adapted their swordplay to their strengths.

Diarmuid had never seen such an agile style as that of the tiny one—squire, perhaps? Or knight?—which was so clearly made to make up for her disadvantage in size. Neither had he seen a man wield his sword so impossibly gracefully.

So mesmerized was he with their exchange, that he only noticed the two swords at his throat when the shorter blonde had demanded his name. He knelt at once.

“My name is Diarmuid ua Duibhne, First Spear of...nay, I am but a simple knight, come to Camelot seeking a valiant king to serve. My deepest apologies for the interruption, fellow knights, I was merely...entranced,” he trailed off, locking gazes with the lady, who listened to him so intently.

“Ah, then you’ve quite found yourself in a favorable position,” hummed a third stranger, a white-haired man from the trees. Diarmuid smelt magic on the newcomer, the blood of one that was not quite human, just like himself. “Arthur here is the Prince of Camelot, and a knight much like yourself.”

Face flushed, the Irish knight bowed his head again, “My deepest apologies, I was not aware I was speaking to one of an even higher position. But my mission still stands. Prince Arthur, if you shall have me, I wish to serve your court, and milady...”

“Princess Arturia, my sister,” Arthur furnished for him, asking the knight to stand. “We’ll have my father decide what to do with you, Diarmuid ua Duibhne. I imagine he’d want to test your mettle—”

“Not before I do,” the Lady Arturia spoke, smiling down at him with the sun igniting her gem-like eyes.

Diarmuid still remembered every detail of that fight. She moved like a leaf dancing in the breeze, dodging between each and every blow from his swords with graceful ease. He was quicker than her, still, but the princess’s movements were clearly just as calculated as his were. It was her wit that drove her to make anticipated swings, catching him off guard every so often.

But she was not as seasoned a warrior as he was. Her arms were thin. Her hands were blistered, not callused. Although she fought like one who’d witnessed many battles, it was clear to him that she’d been a literal witness to those matches rather than a participant.

She wasn’t a knight. Not like her brother. But Diarmuid could honestly say her first dance with him was one of the most memorable.

Arthur endorsed Diarmuid to his father that very afternoon. Although Uther was impressed with his skill, that Diarmuid came from lands Camelot was once at war with stayed the king’s hand. Although the knight offered unwavering loyalty, he could not quite trust Diarmuid at the level he did the rest of the Round Table. Yet, it was quite a waste to refuse a man so talented with sword and spear.

That’s when Arturia entered the throne room. She was dressed not in the simple linen she’d been wearing in when he met her, but in a luxurious gown of deep red. Diarmuid had to stop his eyes from following the path she walked, fearing the king would find his admiration offensive. He’d found her beautiful when they exchanged blows, sweat dripping down her brow and a competitive smirk upon her lips, but it seemed even in such restrictive attire as this dress she looked divine.

Witnessing Diarmuid’s obvious attraction to that...thing Merlin made, Uther had his answer. There was one way to keep the man from the green isle in his service but also at a safe enough distance.

Diarmuid was knighted under Camelot and given to the child he scorned. She could do Camelot one more duty: groom and tame the Irishman till he was a loyal lapdog to the flag of Britain.

As the years passed, Uther saw her do just that, without his instruction.

The Irishman fought valiantly, leading Camelot into victory after victory before running back to his lady to claim her praise. Although all the knights came to respect Sir Diarmuid, he never asked for a seat at the Round Table, much to Uther’s relief. The fool was satisfied being the princess’s escort, following her through the various activities required of a soon-to-be queen and taking her riding in the afternoons.

His manipulation had been more effective than he realized. Diarmuid’s love for the daughter he detested would keep the knight in Camelot’s service. Perhaps even after the fae came to collect what they were owed.

But neither Arturia nor Diarmuid were privy to the king’s conniving thoughts. The knight had gotten what he wanted: a life of service, and one to a maiden he was most fond of. Meanwhile, Arturia finally found herself a loyal friend, who took her sparring when the palace thought she was merely riding into the forest, who gave her a break from her duties at the castle.

“It has been three years, has it not?” Arturia asked her knight, fondly squeezing his calloused hand. “And you’ve given me such a lovely gift. Please, ask anything of me, and I shall furnish it for you.”

The knight smiled, hoping the night would shroud the heat across his face in the darkness.

“Anything, my lady? That is quite the dangerous word.”

“Anything, Diarmuid.”

Steeling his resolve with a subtle gulp, Diarmuid whispered his request.

“A kiss,” he answered, reveling in the blush that spread throughout her cheeks. “One for every year I have served.”

Seconds of silence passed between them as their heartstrings intertwined.

Arturia’s hands cupped his face, her large green eyes glowing as she stared into his. He wondered if the princess could feel his heartbeat where she touched his skin; if she knew what such a quickened pulse implied.

“Are you certain that is all you desire?” his lady asked him, her voice so quiet it could be carried away by the breeze.

“I am,” he confirmed, knowing well he was playing with fire. He knew Arturia held love for him. Not quite the way he wanted, for that was forbidden by her duty, but that she’d come to care for him was irrefutable. There was a bond between them now, strong enough to last throughout their lifetimes. Maybe even universes.

“Then…” Arturia trailed off, slowly pulling him down to her height while she tiptoed to reach him.

Her soft lips pressed against his cheek, giving him a kiss so tender and lasting Diarmuid closed his eyes to properly remember the sensation. Then, she pulled him even closer, blessing his forehead with the same gift as gently as a mother would. She pulled back for a breath as his hands hovered over her waist, not quite touching her, but keeping her within his space nonetheless. He felt her lean in once again, her warm breath on his cheek, but she hesitated before she could make the contact.

Fear gripped his heart at the thought he’d asked too much of her, but before he could open his eyes, he felt her lips on his.

She tasted like honey, sweet and addicting as her soft mouth touched his. He felt his heart soar, felt his blush spread to his ears, but he couldn’t care less his love for her was on full display. He’d dreamt of this too many times before, a fantasy that couldn’t come to be, but one he desperately longed for anyway.

It was over too soon, for she shyly pulled away. For the first time in ages, they could not hold each other’s gaze, each too flustered by what had just transpired.

“Milady, I—”

“Princess.”

Both of them jumped at the familiar voice. It was Merlin, looking uncharacteristically grim as he approached Arturia with an open hand.

“Your father wishes to see you in the east hall,” the magus informed them.

Arturia didn’t take Merlin’s offer to escort her, excusing herself from the two men with one last meaningful look in Diarmuid’s direction. Her knight watched her until her dress disappeared beyond the large double doors, longing to be by her side even if she’d only just left his presence.

“You saw?” he asked Merlin, ready to throw himself into the fire and take the blame if ever Arturia’s actions were questioned.

“What’s this? Do you think me so loyal to Uther I’d report a simple kiss? Nay. I shan’t give my princess more trouble than she already has on her plate.”

The incubus’s latter statement seemed questionable, since the wizard had been responsible for most of the shenanigans that got both twins in trouble way back when, but he digressed.

“But I do have a question for you, Sir Diarmuid ua Duibhne,” the wizard drawled, tossing magelight between his hands absentmindedly. “Do you consider yourself loyal to Camelot?”

Flabbergasted, the knight blubbered out his response. “Yes. Yes, of course.”

Merlin gave him a smile that seemed rather melancholy. “And if Camelot betrays her, would you still give the same response?”

“That’s a silly question. Betray milady? For what reason? You know as well as I do she’s played the part of a perfect princess all her life. I can’t think of any man in that courtyard who would hesitate to ask her to wed.”

Including...myself. He finished in his mind.

Merlin watched his expression silently, as if the magus could discern his true thoughts on the matter.

“You didn’t answer my question, First Spear of the Fianna. Aren’t I the wily trickster between us, hm? Why answer me with flowery words?”

A beat.

Diarmuid nearly choked on his spit as questions popped up in his mind. He’d never told anyone of his rather troubled past, not even Arturia, who he held closer than anyone. Had Merlin known about his true identity this whole time? Did the wizard guess this was his second life? How much did he understand about his past? Was he sure of it even when they first met all those years ago?

Purple irises stared straight through to his soul, doing nothing to calm the raging turmoil within. “Given your history, I believed you would feel more strongly for this. Perhaps...for once, I was wrong.”

A burst of pink and white flowers, and the wizard was gone, leaving Diarmuid to figure out what he meant all by himself.

Tomorrow was the big day. Finally, Uther could be rid of Merlin’s little mistake. Without his older daughter in the way, there wasn’t anyone else to his knowledge that could lay claim to the throne. Especially now that he knew that accursed girl wouldn’t be spawning any kids of her own. The Fae only seemed intent on consuming her, whatever the hell that meant.

Uther uncovered the small package the creatures left with him nearly two decades ago, revealing a small golden apple which hadn’t rotten for as long as he’d had it.

“Father, you called for me?” came Arturia’s voice through the door. She came in, looking surprisingly beautiful in her white dress.

“I know I have been distant from you, dear daughter,” the king said, approaching Merlin’s creation with a tacked-on smile. “But I thought it best to watch your growth from a distance. And my, have you grown.”

“I owe it all to you, father,” she answered mechanically, keeping her gaze down. Uther tried not to let his distaste for her show. He needed to execute this perfectly, after all.

“Your hands, child.”

Obediently, the princess held out two open palms, to which the king placed the golden fruit. Even in her hands, the shiny thing looked so small. No more than two or three bites, surely.

“Do not tell your brother of this, there is only the one,” her father said as the princess’s heart swelled. “He will receive his own gift tomorrow, not to worry.”

“Thank you, father.”

Arturia cupped the small fruit like it was the most precious of jewels. It was beautiful, a perfect replica of a normal apple save for its smaller size and metallic skin. She took it between her thumb and pointer finger, turning it in the light. Despite how it looked however, it felt soft and fresh, like it had just been plucked from a tree.

“Go on then,” Uther urged, a bead of sweat falling from his brow. “I hear it's quite delicious.”

Arturia did as she was told, sinking her teeth into the fruit as she covered her mouth with her free hand.

Her eyes went wide as the flavor danced inside her mouth. She’d never tasted such perfection. Sweet but not saccharine. Sour but not unpleasant. The apple was as crisp as it was juicy, its delectable syrup embracing her tongue like a tender lover. She’d never eaten anything like it. There couldn’t have been any food on earth quite as good, it almost seemed otherworldly—

Arturia snapped back to attention, suddenly remembering she’d scarfed down a whole apple in front of her father. She straightened her skirt, wiped her hands on her kerchief, berated herself for looking so crude. She tried not to meet her father’s eyes knowing he’d be disappointed, but…

For the first time in her life, Uther Pendragon was smiling at her, looking as relieved as an accused man cleared of guilt.

“F-father?” the woman stuttered, her eyebrows crossing in worry. She was so unused to him being this kind.

“Enjoy the rest of your celebration with your brother, girl,” Uther laughed, sending her off, “You never know when you can enjoy such a feast again.”

His laughs continued even after the doors to the east hall shut behind her, leaving Arturia to wonder what had lightened his mood so much.

The latter half of the evening saw Diarmuid watching Arturia from the other side of the hall, kicking Gawain’s shins under the table whenever the blonde knight was being too loud. The man was on his eleventh tankard of ale and counting, and boy, could he talk.

“If I were as handsome as you, Deeeeeer, I might have had some luck with the ladies around, hm? Why do you have to steal them all? Hmmm??? Couldn’t leave some for poor Gawain?” his friend slurred, swaying back and forth like some cursed gigantic pendulum.

“Sir Gawain, even if he had the face of a donkey, and the hair of a rat’s ass, and the body of a cow—” Tristan wisely cut himself off when he felt Diar’s glare, “You’d have the same luck, sadly.”

“Thank you!” Gawain loudly exclaimed, Tristan’s beration flying leagues over his head. He thumped the poor redhead on the back, and before long, the table before them was some cursed mix of ale and moist food.

At that, Diarmuid let a few chuckles loose. One would think someone as large and broad-shouldered as Gawain could hold his drink, and he could, just not as well as everyone else did.

“You have been quite silent,” voiced the knight that sat beside him. Sir Bedivere was on the quieter end of the spectrum, which Diarmuid did appreciate. “Did something happen?”

Bedivere tilted his head to the right as he spoke, almost like a confused puppy. Words bubbled to Diarmuid’s lips at once, for Bedi was a knight he quite trusted, but he hesitated on account of the subject matter.

Merlin’s cryptic words had haunted him all throughout the evening. He didn’t know what the old wizard meant by them, but now he couldn’t shake the feeling that the princess was in danger. Sadly, his feelings of protectiveness overshadowed the ridiculous amounts of joy he felt knowing the taste of her lips.

Diarmuid felt the heat rush to his ears.

Scratch that. Clearly his affection for her was a little stronger. A lot stronger.

“Nothing important,” he mumbled, realizing he’d been silent for too long. Luckily, it seemed Bedivere would not push the subject any longer. If only his next question wasn’t so damning.

“Do you suppose Lady Arturia’s future husband is amongst the crowd?”

Diarmuid’s honey gaze landed on his lady, who stood surrounded by four men from different kingdoms, yet seemed to be holding her ground. Of them were two brothers with midnight hair and red eyes, a rich king from a distant land across the sea, and another whom neither he nor the knights seemed to recognize. Diarmuid could immediately tell only one of them was truly interested in Arturia, for he was the only one whose gaze never traveled down from her face.

“Perhaps,” the Irishman mumbled, his voice lost in the chaos Tristan and Gawain had just gotten into. Apparently the latter had just said something to the effect of older women not being all that great. But he couldn’t care less about their debate. Because Arturia was starting to look pale.

Before Bedivere could ask what was going on, Diarmuid made a beeline for his lady, reaching her side quickly enough that he could take the goblet from her hands before she could drop it.

“Milady, I believe it may be time to excuse yourself. It has been quite the taxing day,” Diarmuid mumbled just loudly enough for the royals to hear. He gave them each a bow for courtesy, maintaining a calm facade so as not to alarm the other guests.

Arturia’s hands clamped onto his elbow. She was clearly humiliated at the situation, but knew Diarmuid had just given her an out. She would be a fool to deny it. Especially when the room was beginning to spin.

“I’m afraid my knight is quite correct,” she managed, her eyes beginning to defocus. Despite the vertigo slowly dragging her into unconsciousness, she managed to speak each and every man’s name before giving them a polite curtsy and allowing Diarmuid to escort her out of the party.

And as the double doors thudded closed, Arturia finally allowed her knees to buckle. Diarmuid was there to catch her, holding his most precious person before she could hit the floor.

“My lady?!” Diarmuid’s voice came in a panicked whisper. She wasn’t like this before they separated earlier tonight. Had something happened since her father called for her?

Tender fingers cupped her cheek, turning the small woman’s face to him. Her skin was cold and colorless, nearly the same hue as her gown. In the moonlight that filtered through the window she was almost ghostly.

“Should I call for Merlin?” Diarmuid asked softly, moving away the bangs that obstructed her face. Her eyes were jaded, barely able to meet his, but she shook her head.

“No. No, I just...I just need to lie down. If you would please...” she said between breaths, but she didn’t need to finish her sentence for her closest friend to understand.

Diarmuid looped his arms under her legs and back, lifting her with ease. He tried not to think about how natural it felt to hold her, to feel her lean her head to his chest, but it was getting difficult. He should just admit it to himself already.

Diarmuid loved her. He might have loved her since the day they met.

How horribly ironic. In his first life, he was forced to abandon the life of service he loved to run away with his king’s would-be queen. Now it was his love that he was forced to abandon, to continue the life of service he’d been resurrected for. At least this time, the woman involved was not betrothed, not yet. He had a little more time to pretend.

Besides, she kissed him. He could live on happily knowing that at one point in his new life, his feelings were returned. He’d be satisfied, right?

Right?

Arturia passed out before they even got to her quarters, trusting him with her safety even while asleep. As he touched his forehead to hers, Diarmuid realized his answer.

Of course not.

When she was beneath her covers, the man knelt next to her bed, caught between waiting at her bedside for her to wake or finding Merlin to report the incident. Arturia may not have endured the same physical training that he and the other knights regularly put themselves through, but he’s sparred with her enough in secret to know she was no weak woman.

He should go. Perhaps she’d taken something from the buffet that had made her feel sick. He ought to find the wizard so they could test the food and wine. He knew she didn’t see the need for a healer, but he should probably alert the palace alchemist just in case.

Halfway out the door, he stopped, his heart aching as he remembered the crowd of people Arturia had been entertaining just before the incident. One of the bluish-haired brothers, the quieter one. He was going to ask for Arturia’s hand, Diarmuid could feel it.

The knight turned around and dipped down to steal one last kiss on her forehead, thanking her for indulging him earlier that night. He brushed her hair from her face, smiled, then left the room.

As he walked back toward the main hall, however, something kept nagging on the back of his mind. Was she...wearing a different scent? She smelled sweet, but...too sweet, like the white apple blossoms in the land of the fae.

Diarmuid shook his head. Impossible. Fair folk were less common in this day and age, and the Pendragons were quite human, unlike himself. How could she have come across something like that?

Arturia opened her eyes to the dawn.

The...dawn?

The woman sat up like a flipped lever, wrapping her shawl tighter around herself. The dark walls of her bedroom were glaringly absent, and so were her sheets.

That...that couldn’t be right.

Grass tickled her bare feet as she scrambled to get her bearings, but there were no landmarks to tell her where she was. The rolling plains to the east were missing and so was the mountain to the north. The stars that remained in the heavens could not guide her way. There were too many glittering lights. More than she remembered the night sky ever having. As her lungs heaved, she tasted salt in the breeze, when there shouldn’t have been. Whipping her head to the east, she saw the sea in the distance, but she didn’t recognize the shore.

Wherever she was now, Camelot was far, far out of reach.

Arturia gulped down her fear as Merlin had taught her to do, calming herself to give room for rational thought. She should start from what she remembered. Retrace her steps. Yes.

Father had given her a gift, and then when she returned to the celebration, Arthur introduced her to some of his friends: her possible suitors. It couldn’t have been the wine, she refused to have some, but she remembered feeling lightheaded, then Diarmuid took her to her room—Diarmuid!

His name left her lips, but it was quickly drowned out by the sounds of rustling of leaves too thick to have been from the forests near Camelot.

“Diarmuid!”

That wasn’t her. Goosebumps peppered her skin as Arturia whipped her head around to face the echo. Then she came face to face with someone who looked familiar. Too familiar.

It was herself, copied right down to the smallest of details. Twenty-two freckles across her nose. A scar that ran from her palm to her wrist. One stubborn lock of hair sticking out from the rest. When Arturia breathed it did too, when she blinked it followed suit. It even made a mockery of her distress, mirroring her quivering lip as she stepped back.

“That is not your name, Arturia Pendragon,” the two figures spoke in unison, only one of them horrified. “Your father traded you off a long time ago.”

Arturia nearly screamed when her body moved on its own, reaching behind her back the same way her “reflection” did. She was a puppet to “her” strings, twisting awkwardly in manners no normal human would. But less damning was her sudden loss of control than what her “reflection” said in that too-nasal gravelly voice.

“What...do...you...mean?” Arturia managed to word, forcing her clone to do the same.

It didn’t seem to mind, and used her fingers to grasp the fruit of a nearby berry bush. She didn’t recognize the red berries her hand pressed to her lips. Arturia willed her mouth shut, warring with the invisible force that pried it open.

“Open up, poppet.”

Arturia blinked, suddenly finding herself surrounded by the most beautiful people she had ever seen. Their faces contained no flaw, no imperfection. Their hair was long, braided with flowers and the colorful leaves of the forest. In comparison, her “reflection” seemed so ugly as it pulled its jaw open with its free hand.

One of the handsome creatures stole the berries from her grasp, placed them within her mouth, and pulled her hair back till she swallowed.

Suddenly her limbs felt loose, and she was on the ground once again, staring up at fifteen perfectly symmetrical faces. So lovely they looked. Too lovely to be human.

Oh.

Arturia’s eyes widened as all the puzzle pieces fell into place. Her surroundings, the creature’s ability to control her once they had her name, the too-perfect bodies that circled her.

She was in the domain of the fae.

Arturia’s hand went to her lips, the delicious fruit’s flavor still clinging to her tongue. They’d forced her to eat their food. Which meant…

For her, there was no going back.

“I’d start running, Spawn of Uther.”

“Father, my sister is missing, we cannot hold the coronation today. All of Camelot knows you’ve selected me for the throne. What harm shall there be in a delay?!” Arthur’s muffled voice came through the door. Never had anyone heard the prince so agitated, and so his alarm put everyone on edge.

Especially the resurrected former First Knight of Fianna, who was trying not to tremble as he held his head in his hands. He’d just lost his charge. Right under his nose, she’d been taken from the castle, with the perpetrator leaving no footsteps, no sign of struggle. Arturia must have never woken. She would have put up a fight.

A loud slap echoed throughout the corridor, making even the sturdiest of knights flinch.

“You will be crown prince, Arthur! That is what the King declares and that is what you shall obey,” Uther’s voice came through the door.

The rows of knights averted their eyes, bearing no witness to the fresh cut on Arthur’s cheek. Outside the castle, the common folk carried on with their preparations, unaware their generous princess would not be around to enjoy the ceremony.

Later, the King would announce to her admirers that the princess was unwell, and the world would be none the wiser. Later, Uther would insist the celebration carry on into the night time. Later, he’d send all the guests home without his daughter bidding them farewell.

By the ‘morrow, the king was still giving the same excuses, the Crown Prince Arthur standing stifled by his side. There were more bruises on the young prince than there were the night prior. When Diarmuid locked eyes with the man that had introduced him to Camelot, they knew Uther hadn’t the intention to find her at all. He wouldn’t spare a single cent on her search, much less a knight.

Merlin’s query from the other night seemed all the more damning.

And if Camelot betrays her, would you still give the same response?

Arthur held Diarmuid’s gaze and made a subtle nod, like he knew of the choice the Irishman was going to make. In fact, the prince even looked proud.

Every piece of armor, every cape, every medal he was lauded, Diarmuid dropped onto the Round Table like rubbish. He’d come to Camelot seeking an honorable king to serve, but alas, it seemed he came too early.

It hurt his heart to abandon his wish a second time, even if this instance, it was his choice. However, he couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving the princess lost, either.

What a terrible twist of fate.

Diarmuid spun on his heel, his face so contorted in disgust that even the maidens whose hearts he’d swayed looked on him with fear. Perhaps he was cursed to serve horrible people, those that knew nothing of love and loyalty.

Just as the double doors of the hall closed behind him, the king uttered words Diarmuid was not meant to hear. But the former Fenian knight had been a hunter his whole life, and such whispers would not escape his notice.

“Fool. Do you love that failure of a creature so dearly, you’d take it back from the fae?”

The knight’s heart sank into the abyss faster than a rock dropped into the sea.

The events of the other evening finally made sense. Uther had given her fruit from the Otherworld when he summoned her to the East Hall, that was why her breath smelled far too sweet when he’d taken her to bed. He now understood Arturia’s sudden sickness while at the party. Humans couldn’t stomach such magical food when given it for the first time.

Fae food had another quality. When eaten in the human realm, it made the consumer a target, far easier for the fair folk to whisk away into faerie lands, especially during dusk or dawn. That is how she’d been taken without leaving a trace. But when eaten in the Otherworld…

“Father,” Diarmuid called, marching down the halls of the castle. Black smoke rose wherever the man’s feet touched, leaving the floor singed in his path. Soon Diarmuid’s simple green garbs were replaced by expensive silk, his roughly pulled back hair graced with a circlet of gold. Servants and knights alike parted like the sea, fearful of the gentle Irish knight. For the first time his welcoming honey eyes looked like those of a wolf’s, alight with the rage of a hunter.

Camelot’s walls dissolved before Diarmuid’s eyes, stone blocks contorting into green grass and large trees. Soon his steps no longer echoed along castle halls, but burned through thick vegetation. The demigod spared one look at the sky to find it dotted with too many stars and knew he’d crossed to the domain of everlasting youth and abundance. His father had eased his passage.

Meanwhile, Merlin smiled as Arthur delivered the news of Diarmuid’s magical disappearance.

Arturia was fading fast.

She could no longer feel her bloodied fingers, nor the scratches all over her feet. She’d run so far to no avail, there was no escaping the land of the Fae. Still, the princess could not accept going to her death without a fight. If she were to lose her life, a warrior’s death seemed more honorable than the alternative.

Still, her death meant she could no longer follow the path her father set her down. She wouldn’t be queen, wouldn’t be the catalyst for a lasting alliance, wouldn’t bear a son for whatever prince or king Uther would assign. Arthur’s future reign would be robbed of a loyal ally. She regretted that much.

Then there was Diarmuid. Her one true friend, who knew her better than anyone, even Arthur. The last three years of her life were the brightest, for he filled them with happiness. He indulged her love for swordfighting, risking punishment to take her out to spar. Although he stayed by her side, he never made her feel like she was made of glass like her tutors tended to do.

They were duty-bound, they knew that, but they grew close anyway. Arturia was sure she loved Diarmuid the way that he loved her. She didn’t know when or how, but...she did. Perhaps that’s why it was so easy to steal one final kiss before her duty took her away.

The tears that brimmed beneath her eyelids finally fell.

If on her deathbed, she could be selfish, she wished for the chance to tell him how she felt.

Alas, it seemed her breath had finally run out.

Arturia's eyes snapped open as fresh air entered her lungs. A warm hand pulled her up out of her grassy grave and into a familiar embrace, holding her as she hacked and coughed. A quick grasp for the necklace of vines at her collarbones revealed nothing but crumbling ash, like the offensive plant had spontaneously combusted.

"Forgive my tardiness, my lady."

Dazed eyes crawled up to the face of her savior, his name on her lips, but found a sight known and unknown to her at the same time. It was her knight’s face, undoubtedly, with the same droopy eyes and handsome features, yet there were parts of him that had been replaced. His orange irises now glowed like embers against the coal of his sclera, a quality decidedly inhuman.

“D..iar?” she croaked, reaching up to touch his ear, now knife-shaped at the end when it wasn’t before. He responded to her at once, resting his face in her palm to quell her fears. She must have been so confused to see him in this form. He’d never worn it in Camelot, after all.

With the little strength she had left, she returned his embrace, tucking herself into the crook of his neck without a second thought. She had so many questions, beginning with why he left a trail of death in his footsteps from whence he came, but all that could wait. Her knight was here.

“You have suffered in my absence, and for that I apologize,” the man said, regretfully seeing the red stain of a berry at her lip.

He was too late. Arturia belonged to the Otherworld now. Likely, the ones that had taken her forced the fruit down her throat to eliminate any chance of escape. Oh, and of course, to further weaken the human who wasn’t yet used to consuming magic-riddled food. If he had to guess, the mischievous fair folk were hunting their latest catch for sport. That would explain how she was still alive.

“Do you know why they took you, milady?” he asked, his watchful eyes scanning his surroundings for the ones that pursued her. They can’t have been far behind.

Arturia shook her head, leaning on his chest. “All they told me...is that my father...traded me to them. By the way they spoke...it seems it has been a long time since then. They...know my name.” she said in between heavy breaths.

Luckily, they wouldn’t have to live in mystery much longer. The fair folk had finally decided to show themselves.

“That belongs to us, Son of Donn.” fifteen salivating mouths spoke in unison. The roots around them creaked as the trees behind them sprouted legs and walked. No wonder Arturia looked like she’d been pushed through several thorny bushes. The forest sided with its inhabitants.

That complicated things quite a bit. Even Diarmuid would rather not challenge an army of trees and fae. There was only so much he could do with Donn’s blessing. He’d rather not leave this entire area dead.

“On what grounds?” queried the demigod.

At his words, the small circle of death that surrounded the pair spread its reach, slowly sapping the life from every plant and animal within it. Even the more arrogant of the Fae knew better than to step within the territory of the god of death’s son, snarling and hissing as they backed away.

“King Uther’s payment for furnishing his barren wife a boy.”

Diarmuid’s hold on Arturia’s body only tightened. Payment? Was that damned king so heartless he saw such little value in his own child that he used her to purchase another? Around them, the grass began to decay, as if the knight’s growing anger scared the life out of the greenery.

The man cursed under his breath. Fair folk were unable to lie. The fae hadn’t been malicious in their capture of Arturia at all. They were simply taking what they were owed, no matter how twisted it felt to be dealing in human lives. Then again, fae didn’t quite view humans as equals. In their eyes, man could range from being lovers, to pets, to food. It seemed the latter was what they saw in his princess.

Unlike Diarmuid, whose rage simmered on behalf of his charge, Arturia’s diminished in favor of curiosity. Because if her mother truly was barren, how could she have birthed two? And if Arthur was the doing of the fae, then...who made her?

In a blink, Diarmuid was armed with his red sword and spear, a shrouded Beagalltach dropping on Arturia’s lap for her to use. Truthfully, he’d rather not fight, even if the woman who guarded his back eased his worries a bit. The fair folk were far more wily than common humans, and Arturia, who’d only been sparring against Arthur, Merlin, and himself, would be at a severe disadvantage. Especially when the Fae didn’t always play fair.

The best way out of this was to make Arturia undesirable in their eyes, but how? She had been owed to them since she was a baby. What could possibly ruin her for them—oh.

“Then I’m afraid you’ve been double-crossed, fair folk,” Diarmuid declared confidently. He locked eyes with Arturia meaningfully, giving her a slight nod so she’d play along.

“Double-crossed?” questioned the angered fae folk. Clearly his ruse was already working. “Explain yourself, demigod.”

“Uther has gifted her to me first,” he smirked. Technically, he’d spoken nothing false. Arturia was made his charge the same day he was knighted under Camelot. What was that if not a gift?

Luckily, his princess’s look of surprise was ignored in the Fae’s rage at being scorned. Especially by someone who they’d done such a huge favor.

“You lie!” screamed the beautiful creatures, all of them rushing forward to claim their prize. That couldn’t be true. They waited so long for her to ripen, expending so much energy to make Uther’s wish come true.

“I do not,” the demigod said calmly, pulling Arturia to himself like he’d always wished to do. She must have been so uncomfortable wrapped in a situation she could not control. He hoped she didn’t mind his actions too much. “She wears my token.”

That was the first time the fae took notice of the cloth that the tiny blonde so viciously hung on to throughout the chase. It was clearly woven in the Otherworld, perhaps blessed even by Donn. The craftsmanship was far too intricate in detail to have been made by human hands.

But the fae would not be denied so easily. “Our dealings predate yours, demigod. Surrender us what we are owed—”

“Even if this woman is secondhand?” Diarmuid drove in his point, flabbergasting all the terrifyingly beautiful faces that hovered just beyond the circle of death at his feet.

“I am afraid that I have already been allowed a taste,” he said smugly.

Arturia’s reaction was perfect. With a small gasp and her fingers tenderly touching her lips, the fae had all the proof they needed.

Uther had played them all for fools, thinking they’d accept leftovers when he promised them a feast. Some of their eyes still stared at Arturia’s thin arms, but no longer with desire. Rather, they were beginning to see that the King hadn’t prepared her for them at all. She was short. Clearly starved rather than fattened for their consumption.

They should have known she had already been claimed. The scent of the death god was on her skin the night they took her.

Slowly, the fae began to disappear. One by one, they left, a look of vengeance on their faces. If the Otherworld ever received news that King Uther was dead, he wouldn’t be surprised at all.

“Will they seize Camelot?” Arturia asked as she followed Diarmuid down a trail of death. Although he left tracks of lifeless plants wherever he stepped, after some time, new ones would grow in their place. He’d changed nothing about the cycle of life, only accelerated it. A blessing from his Father, he explained, which did not follow him into the Human Realm.

It would be long before the princess became accustomed to the fact that Diarmuid was royalty as well. The son of Erin’s God of Death, Donn. She couldn’t believe she had someone so renowned in her service for the last three years. Especially if that someone was actually living a second life when he had done so. Suddenly, Diarmuid’s incredible prowess in battle made sense. He’d already lived a life of war once before.

The raven-haired warrior was patient with her, answering her every query as he led her to a small healing pool to recuperate.

“No,” the man said, leading his princess into the shallow water. “The Fae only quarrel with your father. You needn’t worry for the kingdom.”

Her knight—was he still her knight?—sat behind her, undoing the messy braids in her blonde hair as the water washed away her wounds. Being this intimate in public might have been improper in Camelot, but they were no longer bound by the laws and practices of the white castle. Human customs meant nothing in the realm of the fae.

In fact, most everything she knew meant nothing in this realm. She felt like a fish out of water, nay, perhaps even a fish in the desert in this magical land of plenty. There were no kingdoms here, not really. No wars to end with marriage, no diplomatic ties to establish. Here, her title was little more than a luxury price tag. An excuse for her captors to sell off her meat as premium.

Arturia shivered in the cold, goosebumps crawling up her figure.

“I feel I should have accepted death if it meant sparing my father’s life—”

“—Don’t,” the knight stopped, moving his hands from her loose hair to her shoulders. “In all this, you are innocent. It is your father’s own fault he transacted with the Fair Folk. Especially so...if he already had you.”

Arturia turned around so that they faced each other in the water. Her emerald eyes shined brighter than the pool they were in, curiosity and dread rippling within their depths.

“If Queen Igraine truly was barren, do you not suppose your father would first turn to his own court mage for help?” the knight voiced his suspicions.

Neither of them could confirm the answer, but deep down they knew the truth. Arturia was Merlin’s creation, just as Arthur was the Fae’s. No wonder they’d chosen her for their payment. Hers was a unique existence, fashioned in the hands of a demon.

“Have I endangered my brother, then?” she mumbled. “What if they claim his life instead of mine?”

“They are proud creatures. To have someone borne of their interference seated in the highest seat of the kingdom will have them thrilled. The fae will not remove him,” he replied.

A quick glance above her white dress’s neckline revealed the healing waters had taken care of the bruises on her neck. A few moments more and he’d set a fire somewhere close so they could dry off. Then he could take her...where, exactly? To his father? Maybe?

Donn would take her in. Of course he would. His father’s domain never ran out of space. Perhaps he could even take Arturia to Aengus, if she desired a fancier lifestyle more attuned with the arts.

However, it wasn’t Camelot. This was not the world she was raised in. The people within it were different. He had no doubts that she would adjust, but the fact remained that Arturia was a foreigner here.

A long sigh escaped Diarmuid’s lips. He was never a stranger to the Otherworld, but Arturia was. His princess sat here, forever stolen from the life that she knew, and yet she hadn’t spared a single question for her own fate.

“As long as you are human, my liege, you cannot return to Camelot. The fruit of this land anchors you to this realm in more ways than one. Even if your passage were somehow permitted, only starvation awaits you on the other side, for no food of man shall ever taste like what you consume here. Your body will reject anything else,” the demigod elaborated, loathing every word that left his lips.

His heart begged him to hold her, for comfort was the only other thing he could offer for her plight, yet he hesitated. Arturia may have known him for three years, but he’d concealed from her his form, his past, his lineage. If he weren’t the only familiar thing to her within the Otherworld, he wondered if she’d still trust him.

Arturia hugged her knees to her chest. Whether it was to combat the chill of the water or give herself some sense of security, he didn’t know.

“If I cannot fulfill my duties to Camelot, Diarmuid, then what purpose is there to me existing?”

Her words pulled him forward til he rested a hand on her head. Arturia unraveled herself like a blooming rose at his touch, her expression still solemn, but less worried.

“I suppose finding that purpose, becomes the purpose. We’d be in the same boat, Arturia,” he said, giving her a slight smile. She still looked dubious. Of course she did. Arturia knew no other life than the one she spent following tradition and her father’s orders. He, however, was different.

“The reason I came to Camelot at all was to live a life of service as a knight. I thought it might grant me some fulfilment. However, the moment I realized the very order—the king—I served had forsaken you,” he paused for a moment, bringing his hand lower to cup her cheek, “...It was all too easy to rescind my loyalty.”

The irony of it all was killing him. In his last life, he would have done anything his king demanded. He was only forced to leave due to extraneous circumstances, and as soon as his king declared forgiveness he was all too ready to retake his position at Fionn’s side. This time, he’d left Camelot peacefully and by his own choice, but he’d left nonetheless. It turns out that losing your life because of your lord’s jealousy changed a person. This time, he was finical in choosing who to serve, and Uther certainly did not fit his criteria.

“I do not know anything else but the knight’s path, just as you know only your path as a princess,” he continued as she leaned into his touch. “But I am beginning to think my happiness is not strictly confined to that life. If I may be so bold, milady, I believe you may be the same.”

Looking back, he indeed was happy as a knight of Camelot, but most of his joy came from serving her. There was nothing more thrilling than bringing victory to her doorstep, or wearing her token during tournaments, or riding with her into the forest whenever they could. In the beginning, he did strive to join the Table, but that wish quickly diminished when he realized the added duty would shorten the time he was able to teach her to wield swords and spears.

Diarmuid wouldn’t claim she was his new purpose. But he was sure that whatever awaited him, he wanted Arturia there.

This time, he really did pull her into an embrace. Although the water was cold, Diarmuid felt warmth where their skin touched. It helped remind him that although he’d been too late to take her back, he wasn’t too late to save her life. She was still here. He just had to convince her to stay.

“I offer you my company, Arturia. You will never be alone if...if you wish to continue your journey here.”

The blonde woman closed her eyes, contemplating his proposal. This fate was not the one she was born for. Nay, in a way it was, since her father had sold her off the same day she was born. She’d only been tricked into believing she’d be a political tool for forging alliances. In not succumbing to the Fair Folk, however, she’d basically rejected that fate. Who knew now what her life was meant for?

Diarmuid started a fire as she pulled his gift tighter around herself. She hadn’t let it go from the minute he gave it, only momentarily giving up its warmth to bathe in the healing waters. He was being so kind to her, so patient. He no longer owed her his service, considering Camelot’s rules no longer bound them, but he remained with her.

So much had changed in such a short time. But even if her knight looked different, his soul stayed the same. He was her one constant, a beacon of light in the world of unknowns she was thrust into. There was much she had to learn about Diarmuid’s past, but he didn’t feel like a stranger at all.

Finding purpose, he’d said. Arturia didn’t even know where to begin. What was she if not the princess her tutors had groomed since birth? What was she if not her Father’s sacrifice to the Fae? She scoured her mind for any wish, any want she may have had beyond her duty, looking for something, anything that might give her some direction.

As her eyes followed her knight, she remembered her last thought before she believed the vines at her neck would take her life.

She wished she could tell him how she felt.

But that wasn’t all, was it?

What she wished for was no end to the time she spent with Diarmuid, for in those moments, she felt most herself. Perhaps she had been wanting that for a long time. She may have been ready to be married off for the sake of peacekeeping, but their kiss was a result of a selfish, pent-up desire to stay with him instead of fulfilling that duty. A final goodbye that conveyed her feelings before she had to go.

It was mere coincidence that the same kiss was what landed them in their current position.

Arturia reached for the hand of the man beside her closing her small fingers over his.

“I do not know who I am yet,” she admitted, her grip tightening such that he wouldn’t leave. But the gods knew Diarmuid never had the intention to do so. He needed her the same way she needed him.

“Neither do I know myself,” he answered, stroking her fingers with his thumb.

Arturia bit her lip, still wary of the future. This was quite literally the first time in her life when she didn’t know what would come next. There was no schedule to maintain, no grand plan to follow, nothing.

“All I am sure of,” she continued, gently tilting his chin so they gazes locked. “is that I need you with me. Is...Is that alright?”

Diarmuid pulled her closer with their interlocked hands, shielding her from the wind with his body. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, more than relieved that was her answer.

“More than alright, Arturia.”

The pair faced the bountiful world beyond the fire at their feet, wondering what it had in store. It would be a long journey for each of them—finding oneself was quite the task after all—but they had each other. That was more than enough.

_____

Thank you for the ask! :)

I've been playing with this concept in my head for a while. An AU where Arturia isn't the King of Knights, but set in her time (not in a Modern AU) and incorporating beings like the more mischievous kind of Fae. Also you know, since Donn is the god of the dead, hc that Diarmuid's Hope you enjoyed!

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streetlight11 · 3 years

Text

Stay With Me

Summary: She suffered from a trauma after she witnessed the death of her parents at a young age. Luckily, she had a best friend who was there for her ever since that tragic incident. Both of them had feelings for each other deep down but never told anyone. One unfortunate night, when a fresh accident happened right in front of their eyes, her trauma came seeping back in but he was there to comfort her. She could never imagine her life without him.

Theme: College au, childhood friends to lovers

Warning: mentions of accidents, blood, death

Genre: Fluff, sad

WC: 2.6k

Pairing: Ji Changmin x Reader

a/n: just a heads up, the words in italics are flashbacks :)

~12 years ago~

“Mom, dad! Please wake up! Please!” Y/N said, crawling towards her parents who were sprawled on the road with bloody cuts and scabs everywhere on their body.

A bystander called the ambulance while some of them helped carry her parents off to the sidewalk. Not long after, the ambulance came but they didn’t manage to rescue her dad in time. He passed away from the hard impact. Her mom managed to be transferred into the vehicle.

But she didn’t make it halfway through.

She was left all alone as the paramedics comforted her, telling her to breathe. She was only 11. Hence, the reason why she was traumatized by that incident.

It was a bright Wednesday morning, she had just finished getting ready to leave her apartment to head to campus. She wore a simple white shirt tucked into her high waist plaid skirt with a pair of Nike sneakers. She made it to campus with her backpack hanging off one side of her shoulder while she carried a few books in her hand to avoid putting heavy weight in her backpack.

She was just making her way down the hall, her Bluetooth earplugs were in her ears. She was listening to her music when somebody tapped her shoulder. She turned around to see a guy from her Psychology class. If she remembered correctly, his name was Jisung.

“Hey, I think you dropped this.” He said, handing her the keychain from her bag.

She took the charm from him not forgetting to thank him before flashing him a smile. Jisung did the same. Taking slow steps backwards until she finally turned back around to continue walking. He rushed back to his friends, only for them to nudge his side teasingly.

“Dude! She smiled at you! That’s a good start.” Hyunjin said.

“Yeah, try talking to her next time. She’ll definitely talk to you more.” Minho said, making Jisung stare at her descending back.

“Maybe I will…” Jisung thought to himself and soon went off to class.

A few hours later, Y/N was just leaving school when a familiar jock from the soccer team stops dead in her tracks, making her halt in her tracks.

“Hey, I have free tickets to see the new movie this weekend. Wanna go together?” Juyeon asked.

“I already made plans. Sorry.” She rejected him nicely before proceeding to walk around him to leave. She was just making her way to her car when someone blocked her door by holding it down. She looked up, ready to curse whoever it was but her words got stuck when she met the eyes of her best friend.

“I was this close to cursing your ass, Changmin.” Y/N said scrunching her nose. She made a pinching gesture with her fingers to show him she was running out of patience.

Changmin laughed when he leaned against her driver seat door, only to look down at her with a wide smile. “Are you free this weekend?” He asked.

“Mm, probably.”

“But you just told Juyeon you had plans.” Changmin began to smirk.

“You know I give white lies to those guys who try to take me on dates.”

“But you don’t turn me down when I ask you out?”

“That’s because you’re my best friend.”

“Ouch, am I being friend zoned already?” Changmin faked a sad frown.

“Wha- What are you talking about? Of course not.”

“Ugh! Y/N…”

“Changmin…” His frown was soon turned into a bright smile, leaning forward to playfully boop her nose with his own. She couldn’t help but giggle when he did that.

“Should we go out this weekend?” He asked.

“Where to?”

“We can check out that new haunted house for this year’s Halloween.”

“You just want to see me suffer don’t you?”

“Maybe just a little.”

“You ass.” Changmin giggled before pushing himself off her car, only for her to slap his torso playfully.

“I’ll text you once I’m home. Be careful.” She said while Changmin began to walk towards his sports bike across the parking lot. While all of this was happening, someone witnessed this from one of the bikes parked in the lot.

It was Jisung.

That weekend, Changmin came over to her apartment to fetch her but he was an hour early. Hence, the reason why he was now just casually sitting in her bed while he picked out her outfit. After what felt like forever, he finally chose for her a simple denim skinny ripped jeans, a black sleeveless fitting top and a khaki green bomber jacket.

As for the shoes, she chose to wear a simple pair of converse high tops. Changmin was just sitting in her living room while she got dressed, only for him to receive a call from Juyeon, who happened to also be his friend.

“Hey Min! Wanna hang out today?”

“Sorry Ju, I have plans today.”

“Aww man. Who are you meeting?”

Changmin was so close to saying her name when he stopped himself abruptly. “Uhh, s-someone…”

“Ooh! Are you going on a date?”

“H-Huh? No, absolutely not. She’s just a friend.”

“Don’t take too long brother, or else someone might just steal her away.” Juyeon said. Changmin could literally hear his friend smile on the other line. Just then, Changmin heard her bedroom door unlock so he quickly said goodbye to his friend.

“Alright man, I gotta go. Bye.”

“Bye bro, good luck.” Juyeon teased before proceeding to hang up, making Changmin shake his head slightly.

The both of them soon left only for them to take Changmin’s bike instead of her car since it’s slightly easier to find a parking spot later. They went to get a light dinner first before heading to the theme park that was decked out with scary decorations and they even had new haunted houses for this year’s Halloween season.

The two of them were just walking around with the crowd. People were diligently running away from killer clowns and also scary looking masked actors.

She flinched quite a few times as she often grabbed his arm for comfort.

Just when she was talking to Changmin, a killer clown came charging right at her. She flinched, immediately grabbing Changmin’s shirt to bury herself in his chest. He couldn’t help but laugh, wrapping his arms around her body while the clown tried to scare her by putting the chainsaw right beside her ear.

Changmin could feel his heart race in his chest as she rested her arms firmly on his torso.

“Is he gone?” She whispered, terrifyingly.

“Yeah.”

Y/N carefully opened one eye, peaking past her shoulder, only to come face to face with the scary clown, making her let out a soft squeak. She pushed the clown away by his shoulders.

“Leave me alone!” She whined while Changmin was still hugging her. The clown laughed menacingly at her. Starting up his chainsaw again, making her flinch.

“Ugh! You little-” She almost cursed out of annoyance but the clown ran away to scare other people.

“I think you scared him more than he scared you.” Changmin teased while laughing at her.

“Oh shut up.”

She said with a sad pout on her face in which he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter. They were now entering a queue to go to one of the new haunted houses when a familiar voice called out her name from behind her. She turned around, only to see Jisung with his friends, approaching the queue they were in.

She soon found herself smiling and waving at him who mimicked her expression the minute he came to a stop behind her in line.

“Is this your first house?” Jisung asked, shaking her head saying it was already her forth. Just then, Jisung’s eyes travelled towards Changmin who was standing beside her. Who then turned to see who Y/N was talking to. Changmin gave him a soft smile, making Jisung return the gesture.

“Ahh, I’m sorry to disrupt anything. I’ll leave you with your boyfriend.” Jisung said only to awkwardly smile at her, about to turn back around. That’s when Changmin spoke up to clear things up.

“Uhh, it’s fine, she’s-” But she seemed to cut him off.

“It’s okay, my boyfriend’s fine with it.”

With that, Changmin froze as Jisung’s eyes kept going back and forth between Y/N and Changmin. Y/N continued talking to Jisung but she sneakily played with Changmin’s fingers, making his heart race in his chest.

At this point, Jisung wasn’t jealous, nor was he upset that he didn’t get a chance to bring her out on a date because he feels that she is much better off with Changmin. After they were finished with that house, they gathered at the exit, only for Y/N to smile at Jisung and his friends.

“That was scary, I almost slapped someone in there.” Hyunjin confessed, making them all laugh.

“I wouldn’t wanna be that someone.” Jisung said.

Y/N laughed, turning to Jisung and rested her hand on his arm for a few seconds while she spoke.

“Alright, I’ll leave you guys to enjoy the rest of the night. See you in school.” She said, making the guys bid their goodbyes and soon walked the other way. After they left, she knew exactly what Changmin was gonna talk about so she quickly changed the topic by pointing to a snack cart and dragged Changmin to it.

They spent the next few hours with her screaming and whining while he laughs at her for being scared every time.

It was getting late and she was already tired so he decided to send her home. On their way back, they were at a cross junction when he removed his hands from the handlebar only to lean back into a sitting posture. They were both quiet as she rested her hands on his back, carefully sliding them around his waist.

Changmin found himself smiling at nobody. He glanced over his shoulder a little to look at her through his full face helmet. However, that cute moment was soon interrupted when a loud tyre screeching sound was heard from the other side of the junction.

Both of them whipped their head over to the left, that’s when they saw a lorry crashing into a car that soon overturned from the impact.

She gasped when she saw the driver of the car weakly crawled out of the overturned vehicle, his head and hands were bleeding. The lights turned green but Changmin quickly swerved towards the right to stop by the side to get down and help.

A few other passer-by's stopped their vehicles only for them to rush over to the scene.

The lorry driver got off, he even tried to run away drunkenly but some bystanders managed to chase him down. Changmin gently led the car driver to the side while a lady called the ambulance.

Just then, the man pointed shakily to the car as he said.

“M-My… My w-wife… P-Ple-Please h-help he-her.”

With that, Y/N and two more bystanders rushed to the car and they saw the woman hanging upside down from her seat. Her seatbelt was still intact but her head was bleeding. Red crimson blood dripping down her arms and head.

This alone made Y/N’s breath start to get choppy. She made slow steps backwards. Changmin turned around just in time to see her collapse to the ground in a state of shock, sitting there motionless. He rushed to her, cupping her face worriedly.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you okay?” Changmin asked but he knew her mind wasn’t there currently.

With that being said, Changmin carefully lifted her up to bring her towards the sidewalk. He sat beside her with one arm around her waist while the other gently caressing her head comfortingly.

After the ambulance came, Y/N was still shaking in his arms when they watched the paramedics bring both the victims into the vehicle.

Changmin turned to Y/N and softly whispered.

“Are you okay? Let’s get you home. Come on.” He said gently to her. She stood up but her knees were weak from the trauma.

Changmin sends her home safely and he even offered to accompany her for a while before heading home. However, instead of her wanting to shower straight away, she pulled him down on the couch as they sat there side by side quietly for a bit.

“It triggered your past didn’t it?” He asked cautiously, making her nod.

Changmin sighed because he already knew what it was. With that being said, he pulled her into a hug with her willingly accepting it without a single doubt. She buried her face into his neck as he gently caressed her back soothingly.

The room fell silent and all they could hear was their calm breathing. Just then, Changmin pulled away slightly, only to press a firm kiss against her temple. Her heart stopped beating for a millisecond, feeling her whole body freeze. Changmin smiled softly while he drew lazy patterns into her back, that’s when she spoke up.

“Can you stay with me? Please? I’m scared… I already lost the people I love so much. I don’t want to lose anyone else. Especially you.” She whispered softly against his shoulder. He heard every single word clearly.

With that being said, he carefully pulled her away from him. He stared into her glossy eyes that were filled with tears, threatening to roll down her cheeks. He gently cups her face as he wipes her fallen tears with his thumbs. Changmin couldn’t bear to see her heartbroken, it pained him to see her like this. So the only way to make her happy again is to fulfil her wishes, and that’s exactly what he’s going to do.

“I’ll stay with you. I promise I’ll never leave you.” He said, reassuring her as he stared deep into her eyes.

She could almost feel her heart escaping her chest as she gently held onto his wrists. Changmin smiles at her softly, wiping her tears with his sweater sleeves. She leans into his hand and he couldn’t help but smile at her.

Just then, he felt like it was something he needed to do. He wanted to seal his promise. With that being said, Changmin leaned in, only to kiss her on the lips softly. Her heart stops beating momentarily as she felt like she was on cloud9.

Her anxiety and trauma from the accident earlier was already gone. Instead, it got replaced by adrenaline and love. She slides her hands up his chest, running her fingers through his hair. Changmin smiled against her lips only to deepen the kiss further. Changmin tugged on her waist, pulling her onto his lap.

She cups his neck while his hands are resting on her thighs making her shy. She pulled away, only for her to say softly.

“The actual reason why I always turn those guys down is because I was hoping you’d ask me out on a proper date. But I guess we could call today our first date.” She said, making him chuckle as he licked her bottom lip and kissed her but soon pulled away.

“No it doesn’t. Let’s go on a real date. I’ll properly ask you out this time.” Changmin confessed, making her giggle. He captured her in a kiss, making her melt against his touch.

Changmin spent the night with her. He showered her with so much love, filling in the amount that she has been missing out all throughout her childhood.

She couldn’t ask for a much better friend and partner. She woke up the next morning to him playing with her hair in bed as she was snuggled against his warm, cosy chest. He gave her good morning kisses and did that for the rest of the day, making her laugh. She definitely wouldn’t want to lose anybody else that’s in her life. Especially not Changmin.

#the boyz scenarios #the boyz q #the boyz changmin #ji changmin #the boyz #tbz changmin #tbz ji changmin #tbz q scenarios #ji changmin scenarios #tbz q fluff #ji changmin fluff #tbz q x reader #tbz x reader

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marjansmarwani · 3 years

Text

fading under dying light

3.9k || ao3

After a rough shift TK comes home to an empty condo and decides to go for a run to clear his head, to avoid being alone with his thoughts. But when he runs into trouble on his run it’s Carlos who comes home to find him, to save him. He just hopes he was fast enough, that he wasn’t too late to save the person that matters most. ------ Day 7 of Angst Week: Free Choice + “grabbed by the hair” for @badthingshappenbingo

--------

He hadn’t been able to save them.

Two brothers, 16 and 19, trapped in a car that had gone off an embankment and he hadn’t been able to save them. It didn’t matter that he had been able to go down to the vehicle without a problem, it didn’t matter that he and the fire crew had done everything they could. In the end, they were still gone. Two young lives ended far before their time; two fearful gazes that had held his own until the very end. He had seen the moment it had ended, he had been there still fighting against fate when their time ran out. He had been there for the moment that would shape a family’s new reality and he couldn’t get it out of his head.

So, when he had arrived home to an empty condo and Carlos still had another 2 hours left in his shift, he had decided to go for a run. It was better than sitting alone with his thoughts — anything was better than that.

So he found himself in the nearby park; the sound of his feet pounding against the pavement echoing through the cool night air was almost enough to drown out his thoughts. It was late and the park was nearly empty, which suited TK just fine. Being around people right now seemed unbearable. His crew - both fire and medical - had extended invitations, had offered to stay with him; to prevent him from being alone. But being alone is what he needed right now. He needed this time to process, to sort through the thoughts swirling through his head.

He had done everything he possibly could have to save those boys, he knew that. He knew that he wasn’t at fault, that he was in no way to blame for what had happened. No one was. It had been an accident; a tragic, awful accident. But maybe that was the problem. Maybe it wasn’t so much that he hadn’t been able to save them as it was the grief and guilt in the older brother’s eyes as he told TK in a low voice that it was all his fault. That he had taken his eyes off the road for one second, and that single second had made all the difference. Maybe it was that though TK had tried to reassure him that mistakes happened and that it didn’t make him a bad person he was almost certain that the older boy — Danny — hadn’t believed him. That he had died thinking that it was his fault, that he had killed his brother.

Maybe it was the fact that TK had made so many mistakes of his own — mistakes far, far worse than looking away from the road — but he was still here and Danny and Ryan weren’t anymore. He had been given so many chances and they hadn’t even gotten one, and he couldn’t reconcile that idea in his mind.

He had been trying since it happened. He had even said as much to Paul and Marjan when they had checked in on him, when they had caught him in a vulnerable moment. But no amount of logic or reassurance could make this better, nothing could make it make sense. That wouldn’t stop him from trying, though.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he did not see the skateboard in his way until it was too late. His foot caught the edge of it and sent him crashing to the ground where he lay as pain blossomed from throughout his body. He groaned and was about to push himself up to assess the damage when he heard footsteps. He froze for a moment, trying to get a sense of how many there were when a fresh pain ripped through him as a hand reached into his hair and hauled him up. He hissed in pain as the hand tightened in his hair, pulling him up to his knees so he could see the figures surrounding him.

There were three of them and, as best TK could tell through his watering eyes, they looked young. No older than Danny.

“Hand over your wallet and no one needs to get hurt,” the one in front of him instructed and TK shook his head.

“I don’t have it on me,” he explained, “I don’t carry it when I run.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” the figure asked and TK shrugged the best he could.

“I don’t know, but it’s the truth.”

“Maybe we should just check to see,” the figure said to the companion standing beside him he nodded and lunged forward and TK felt a blinding flash of white-hot pain.

“I don’t have anything,” he gasped again, “all I have is my phone and airpods. You can take them, but that’s all I have.”

There were hands on him then and though TK tried to follow the movements it was hard when his head was a cloud of pain. It seemed like an eternity before a new voice spoke.

“It looks like he’s telling the truth, all I’ve got is his phone and airpods, like he said.”

The first figure shrugged and looked down at TK, “Then I guess that’s what we take. Let him go and let’s get out of here.”

The hand gripping his hair disappeared and TK sagged forward without it to hold him upright. He crumpled to the ground, instinctively curling in on himself to protect his wound and prevent any further pain. But the sound of retreating footsteps told him that there was no need, the danger was gone and he was on his own. He pulled himself off the ground and looked down, trying to locate the source of the white-hot pain burning through his abdomen.

He located a red spot, steadily consuming the gray of his shirt. He pulled up his shirt, hissing in pain as the material clung to his skin, to get a better look at the wound. It was a puncture wound, likely from some sort of blade, but it didn’t look too deep. He was only a few blocks from the condo, he could make it home and get a better look at it. Besides, they had taken his phone. He had no way to call for help. He was on his own.

He pulled himself off of the ground gingerly, swaying for a moment on his feet before he found his balance. He took a deep breath and headed in the direction of his home, keeping a hand carefully pressed against the wound all the while. It wasn’t a far walk but he was moving more slowly than usual and though he had no way of knowing how long it had been, he was certain it was longer than the usual 8 minutes it took to walk to the park.

He let himself in; thankful they hadn’t thought to take his keys, at least, before heading up the stairs towards the bathroom. He had to pause in the middle, gripping the railing tightly as a wave of dizziness washed over him, nearly toppling him on the stairs. He waited for it to pass before pulling himself up the last few stairs and entering the bathroom. He flipped on the light and was taken aback by the sight of his own reflection in the mirror.

He was far paler than he should be and the bloodstain had grown to show beyond the hand covering the wound. He lifted his hand to see that the blood was now dripping at an alarming rate. Maybe it was deeper than he thought after all.

He stepped closer to the counter, reaching for the medicine cabinet. If he could at least get it bandaged, if he could put some better pressure on it he should be able to buy himself some more time. He just needed enough time to figure out how to call for help without his phone. Or for Carlos to get home. TK had no idea how long had passed since he had set out for his run but he was sure that it had been nearly two hours; Carlos should be home soon. It would be okay. He just needed to handle it until then.

He managed to pry open the medicine cabinet and fumble through it, hand landing on the first aid kit they stored there. He tried to tighten his grip on it, to pull it out, but his body wasn’t responding to him. Hypovolemic shock his mind provided, far too late to do anything about it. He had lost too much blood; his body was starting to shut down to preserve itself. He tried to grab the first aid kit again, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. There was nothing in there that could help him now.

He got one last look at his reflection in the mirror — skin pale and face shining with sweat despite the fact that he could feel shivers racing through his body — before darkness began to encroach on his vision. He tried to tighten his grip on the wound, to put as much pressure on it as possible but he knew it was a lost cause.

He had one fleeting thought as the darkness took over and he could feel himself sinking to the ground: though he hated the thought of Carlos having to find him like this he hoped desperately that he came home soon.

He hoped that he got here before it was too late.

------------

Carlos sighed wearily as he stepped up to his front door, pulling out his keys as he reached the threshold. It was late and his shift had been long, he was just happy to have gotten out on time. For a while, it seemed like it would never end.

But it had and now he was home and all he wanted to do was convince TK to order some takeout and curl up on the couch with his boyfriend and possibly fall asleep in his arms. He didn’t think that was too much to ask.

He barely looked around as he stepped inside, calling out to TK as he shut the door behind him, “Hey babe! I’m thinking takeout tonight, unless you had other plans.”

There was no response and Carlos frowned as he pulled off his shoes. He glanced at the table beside the door to see that TK’s keys were there.

“TK?” he tried again. “You here?”

He didn’t get a response but a glance up the stairs showed him that the bathroom lights were on. Carlos grinned and headed in that direction only to freeze when his foot made contact with something wet and sticky. He looked down and felt his heart jump into his throat.

It was blood, and there was a trail of it leading all the way up the stairs. Carlos stood and stared for a moment, rooted to the spot by horror before his mind caught up and put all the pieces together: TK was hurt.

Carlos raced up the stairs the moment the shock faded; heart thudding in his chest. He barely took a moment to dwell on the growing horror at the sight of a larger puddle almost at the top. It was too much blood. Whatever had happened it was bad and he needed to find TK now.

He reached the bathroom a moment later and careened through the open doorway only to freeze at the sight that met him: TK, sprawled on the ground in a small pool of blood. He wasn’t moving.

Carlos crashed to his knees beside his still form, reaching out a shaking hand to feel for his pulse. For several moments he felt nothing and Carlos couldn’t breathe, the weight of dread and despair pressing on him from every angle. Then, by some miracle, he felt it. A slight beat under his fingers. It was weak and slow but it was there and in that moment it was the best thing Carlos had ever felt.

He blinked to clear his eyes of the tears that had gathered as he reached into his pocket for his phone, dialing before tossing it next to him on speaker. He leaned forward to examine TK as the call connected and the familiar cadence of dispatch answered: 911, what is your emergency?

Carlos swallowed before speaking: “I just came home to find my boyfriend unconscious and bleeding. I think he’s been stabbed.”

Because know that he was looking he saw it: a wound at the center of all the blood. It was angry and red and nothing he had ever wanted to see on the body of the man he loved but a sight he was all too familiar with nonetheless. He answered the rest of the questions on autopilot, providing his name and address and other relevant details but the majority of his focus was on TK. He had been next to him, touching him and moving him and he hadn’t stirred. Carlos was no medic but even he was well aware that was a bad sign.

He desperately wanted to know what had happened. TK had sent him a text two hours ago to tell him he had made it home. He had been fine, but now he was bleeding in their bathroom wearing his running clothes and Carlos had no idea why. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed TK to wake up. Nothing else mattered.

Soon there was commotion as a paramedic team showed up as well as some uniformed officers. Carlos told his colleagues what he knew, answered all the questions the best he could but his eyes never left TK. Through all the prodding and commotion he hadn’t stirred once and that more than anything else reignited the cold fear in Carlos’s chest.

The paramedics worked quickly and efficiently and in no time they had him on a gurney, ready to head to the hospital. Carlos stepped away from the officer he had been speaking to without a word, silently following them down the stairs and to the ambulance. He paused at the door, eyes seeking the paramedic Captain who met his eyes and nodded, gesturing for him to climb in.

He did without a second thought and watched with a heavy heart as they continued to work on TK, giving him fluids and starting a transfusion.

“Is he going to be okay?” he asked quietly, desperately. His voice was thick and when the other paramedic — Megan from the 132, Carlos had worked with her on several scenes — looked up at him, her gaze was grim.

“He’s going to give it the best he has,” she said eventually, “and from what I hear he’s pretty stubborn, but I’m sure you know that.”

Carlos nodded. TK was stubborn, more so than anyone else he had ever met. But there had also been so much blood on the stairs and the floor and god knows where else and he knew what that meant. He knew how precarious this situation was, he knew exactly how much danger TK was in.

He closed his eyes as they raced towards the hospital, squeezing TK’s hand that he had been holding since he had entered the ambulance. Megan was right, TK was stubborn, but so was he. And if anyone thought that they were taking TK away from him, they’d have to go through him first.

He wasn’t about to let him go without a fight.

------------

When TK woke up, he wasn’t fully sure he was awake.

Actually, when he wakes up, he’s not too sure of anything.

He opened his eyes to see the dim light of dawn peeking through the window. Soft pinks and oranges paint the room and distantly TK wonders how he forgot to shut the curtains. He always made sure to shut the curtains after Carlos has a late shift. His boyfriend is naturally an early riser but blocking out the morning sun helped to make sure that he got an adequate amount of sleep after a late shift. TK went to roll over to make sure Carlos was still sleeping when he realized that he wasn’t in their bed.

From there the pieces fell into place and the realization dawned on him: he was in the hospital. He frowned to himself trying to remember how and why. He didn’t think he had gotten hurt on shift and he was pretty sure it hadn’t been one of his usual kitchen accidents but he couldn’t figure out what it was, his mind was too hazy.

He looked around the room and smiled fondly as he saw Carlos, asleep in the chair next to his bed, his head rested on folded arms next to his hip. He reached out a gentle hand to brush a curl off of his forehead, nearly jumping himself when his light touch caused Carlos to sit bolt upright, eyes frantically looking around the room. They seemed unfocused when they found TK looking at him, for a moment. Then he blinked and they cleared as relief flooded his expression. “TK,” he breathed, reaching out to place a hand on his cheek.

TK leaned into the warmth of the touch and smiled at him until he saw the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes.

“Carlos?” he asked, voice weaker than he expected, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” Carlos repeated incredulously, “what’s wrong? TK, you almost died. I almost lost you.”

“What?” he asked, his heart rate picking up at the distress in Carlos’s voice, “What do you mean? What happened?”

“I was hoping you could tell me,” Carlos said more softly. “I came home and found you passed out and bleeding in the bathroom. You had been stabbed, and it was pretty deep.TK, what happened?”

His voice was desperate and TK frowned as he thought. His mind was still fuzzy, but bits and pieces were starting to come back to fill in the blanks left by Carlos’s words.

“We had a rough call during my shift,” he remembered, feeling the pang of guilt and grief hit him all over again, “and I didn’t want to dwell on it so I went for a run. I was running in the park and I think a group of kids robbed me. They were just kids, Carlos, they couldn’t have been more than 19.”

“But they stabbed you,” Carlos said darkly. “I think that graduates them from ‘just kids’, TK.”

“They asked for my wallet but when I told them I didn’t have it…” he trailed off but judging by Carlos’s grimace he could fill in the blanks. “They’re just kids Carlos,” he told him again, “they have their whole lives ahead of them.”

“But thanks to them, you almost didn’t.” Carlos pointed out, his firm tone shifting as choked out the last words, “you almost died, TK. I almost lost you. That goes well beyond kid stuff.”

TK knew Carlos was right but the thoughts he had been running away from were back. He couldn’t stand to think that these boys, no older than Danny had been, were out of chances. He couldn’t stand the thought of their lives as they knew them ending over a stupid mistake.

Carlos was studying him now. He knew that he was an open book to the other man, he had always been. Carlos reached for his hand and wound their fingers together, “Why don’t you tell me what is really going on,” he asked gently. “It has to do with the rough shift, doesn’t it?”

TK swallowed and looked down. “There were two brothers,” he whispered, just loud enough that Carlos could hear, “16 and 19. The older brother was driving. He kept saying that he had just looked away from the road for a moment, that it was all his fault. He made a mistake Carlos — a simple, stupid mistake — and now he and his little brother are both dead. They didn’t get a second chance.”

There were tears running down his face now, but he didn’t bother wiping them away.

“They didn’t get a second chance,” he repeated, “and I’ve had so many. It just doesn’t seem fair.”

He felt a hand on his face as Carlos wiped away the tears running down his face. “You’ve used those chances Ty,” he reminded him tenderly, “you’ve used them to become a better person, to help people. They brought you here and made you who you are. They weren’t wasted and they weren’t a mistake; I think they were fate.”

“But why me?” he asked, voice thick with tears as he met Carlos’s warm brown eyes, “Why did I deserve it? Why didn’t they?”

“I can’t answer that Ty,” Carlos responded sadly, “no one can. We don’t get a say in who gets a second chance. That goes for you, the brothers, and those kids that did this to you.”

TK knew he was right. He knew that it was out of his hands and that regardless of what he said or did, the boys who had robbed him in the park would either be caught and punished out they wouldn’t. It was out of his hands. Carlos was watching him and TK was sure that he knew what he was thinking.

“If that’s not enough,” Carlos said after a few moments, “think about the fact that they could do this again, and that the next person might not be so lucky. The next time it could be a loved one planning a funeral instead of sitting in the ER, because that’s almost where this ended, TK. You can’t protect them.”

TK wasn’t sure “protect” was the right word. He just didn’t want to see three young lives altered over one mistake. He wanted to see them move past this, to grow from it, but he knew he had no say in the matter. He shifted his focus instead to Carlos who was here and who he could help.

“How are you doing?” he asked him, shaking his head at Carlos’s objection. “Don’t give me that,” he insisted. “You have been waiting and worrying all night. You found me and saved me. While I am beyond grateful, I know if it had been me and it had been you, I would be a mess so don’t lie to me, Carlos.”

He held his boyfriend’s gaze, watching as it wilted and as Carlos took a deep, shaky breath.

“It was the scariest thing I have ever faced,” he admitted. “I was a wreck the whole time you were in surgery. If it hadn’t been for your dad and your team, I don’t know what I would have done. But I knew you would be okay because any other possibility was unacceptable.”

“Is that so?” TK asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Mhm,” Carlos agreed. “Because if anyone tried to take you away from me they’d have to go through me first. I don’t give up easily; I learned from the best, after all.”

TK smiled and pulled at Carlos’s hand. He was still too weak for it to make much of a difference but luckily Carlos understood and moved closer. TK leaned in to give him a kiss: short, but full of love. He liked to think that it was a promise too, but just in case he said the words aloud.

“And I would do the same for you,” he vowed, holding Carlos’s eyes and giving him a smile. “We’re in this for the long haul, you know. Anybody who says otherwise will have to answer to me.”

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i-rosemarie · 3 years

Text

Am I the only one who ship VampBite?

As in Reyna x Viper?

They don't have that many interaction, but from what I've scavenged, Reyna is the only who dares to tease Viper - The grumpy, anti-social scientist.

- "ah, Viper~ Must you always play with your food?"

The way Reyna said this line when Viper carried the team is so sensual, even more so when she flirts with Sage. And personally, I would like to think that under the dark mask, my Sabine is blushing.

It would be poetic, putting two dominant women together and watching them getting closer, then fall in love.

At first, they couldn't stand each other presence since Viper considered Reyna as a reckless bimbo who always charges headfirst into the battle and disobeys her orders. Viper didn't like how Reyna constantly teases her for being too uptight and Reyna couldn't help herself from trying to annoy the hell out of the grumpy, control freak scientist.

-> There's something about the other woman intrigued them. And they just couldn't deny the attraction. They was drawn to each other like a moth to the flame.

They have very different fighting styles, but somehow, Reyna always got Viper's back whenever she goes. Though they thought they hate each other, they still secretly love it when they got paired up together.

-> They feel safe when being around the other one, which is rich, coming from the world they're living in.

Slowly but surely, Reyna found out about Viper's tragic past. Being tortured by the Kingdom to steal her achievement. Being forced to be the lab rat of all the venom and toxins she had created. Being scarred for life by the one she worked with. Reyna's blinding rage boiled her blood, craving revenge for her Serpiente. Her desire to protect her Sabine was stronger and stronger day by day, to the point she's even willing to take the bullet for the chemist who was in danger, in the middle of the battle field.

To say Viper was angry and worried out of her mind was an understatement. She too had developed some kind of feeling toward the Evil Temptress, Vampire Queen. The Chemist loved it every time Reyna addressed her by her real name with that low, rich and sensual mexican accent. She loved it when Reyna slung an arm over her shoulder with a flirty wink when the mission was done. Late night banters at the chemist lab, where Reyna always comes finding Viper with 2 trays of food on her hands. She even loved it when Reyna fought her authority to come up with another attacking plan. Normally, Viper would find it annoying as fuck. But somehow, Reyna made everything in her body tingled in both anger snd arousal.

When Reyna felt on the ground, Viper almost when crazy. Her toxins were released and covered the whole battle ground. She mercilessly kill every Kingdom Soldiers around while carefully secured Reyna's body against her. The great Viper who pride herself from never showing emotion was a wreck. She ripped out her mask for Reyna to wear. Her small hands press hard at the gunshot wound and she was begging Reyna to open her eyes. Everything around her sizzled like a pool of snake's venom, deadly. Viper was in pain, and she acted out.

-> The mission gone wrong finally had Viper coming to term with her feeling for the Vampire Agent. Her toxic heart was yearning for Reyna. Every teases, every little winks Reyna sent, every small gestures of care, late night at the chemistry lab together, Viper finally excepted that, She's in love.

The team, along with Sage, came a little too late. They found the terrifying scene covered by toxin and poisoned smoke with Viper holding Reyna like holding her dear life. They could hear Viper whimper, saying something that made even the nesrly unconscious Reyna shook. Had they known, Viper was begging Reyna to rip out a half of her soul to feed. Reyna needed the soul, and Viper was willingly offered. If she could pull her soul out herself and give it to Reyna, she would.

Reyna, even in the stage of dizziness by the blood lost and hungry for soul, she tried to comfort a very near crying Viper. She tried her best with the mask on her face. Hell, she could never take Viper's soul. She could never hurt her cariño. Never in her wildest dream. So she was thankful when the team rushed in, right into the toxin pool around Viper and bring her to the aircraft. It took Viper sometimes to realize that Brimstone and Sage were not the enemies, and she let Reyna go. But Viper couldn't stay away long. She was by Reyna's side the whole ride to the base to the time she was back in her compartment.

Reyna took comfort that Viper was by her side the whole time. Her dead heart felt like it could beat again for her Sabine. Between the pain and the desire to kiss that venomous little mouth of her Serpiente, she felt drowsy. And when she's finally felt asleep, a scarred hand, gloves free, was caressing her cheek with adoration and love. Reyna slept well that day.

The morning after, Reyna woke up with a pleasant surprise. Her little Serpiente was sleeping, holding Reyna's hand. Her shorthair felt on her face like a curtain, so soft, so inviting. There was a little crease between her eyebrows. Viper didn't fall asleep carefree. Reyna's heart ache for the chemist. She wanted to kiss her forehead, she wanted to say she's alright. She wanted her princessa to be happy and safe. She didn't want Viper to be in pain.

It was all good until Viper woke up. She gone from worried to rage. The Serpentine rage level was high enough for her whole body to glow up in an odd shade of green. "What the hell were you thinking, Deliah!? You could have die! Fuck! You could have die and I'm not fucking worth it!..."

Reyna caught her hand in the middle of the air, took some effort, of course, and pulled the angry Viper on her body. That action effectively silenced her. Reyna could practically felt her love for Sabine was about to burst out of her chest, so she kissed her. Reyna kissed Viper with her whole heart and soul. Viper was shocked into oblivion, she freezed. But not for long. With Reyna's little strokes on her body, Viper started to reciprocate. Their lips moved together perfectly until the Serpiente couldn't breathe. She panted, getting all hot and bother by the way Reyna was touching her. From her hips to her lower back to her ribcages, Viper felt like the she's on fire.

"You worth it, and I would take a thousand more bullets for you if I could, mi alma. I love you... I love you... I love you, mi cielito, mi vida."

-> After that day, they become the power couple of the compound. Everything Sabine does, she has her Deliah to have her back. They're sickeningly sweet when they're together. Although Viper would express her love with snarky comments, Reyna always uses those Spanish sensual nicknames to soothe her Serpiente. They turn disagreement into lovers squarrel and often end up in their bedroom, with Viper screaming Reyna's name until sunrise. Sometimes they think Viper would purposely tick Reyna off to spice things up. And Reyna would do the same thing, if not more frequently.

I'm just a sucker for 2 HBIC to have a soft spot for each other and fall in love. That's all 🤣

#valorant #vampbite #reyna valorant #Reyna #Viper Valorant #Viper #Sage Valorant #Agents of Valorant #HBIC in love #headcanon #I'm a sucker for Reyna's mexican accent #Viper please walk on me #Deliah #Sabine #kingdom

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snapeaddict · 3 years

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Hi, what do you say to the people who claim Regulus is the real Slytherin hero, and not Snape? To me RAB always seemed like a plot device and nothing more so I don't get why he's being worshipped... He's just another rich pureblood kid...

I say this is a very bad take, and it is disrespectful (that's a strong word for something that isn't really important but I cannot think of a softer version) of the actual people who enjoy his character. I'm going to write down some thoughts, but there's more to it than just what I would reply to them - allow me to ramble a little on the roots of this claim and on the thought process embraced by Snaters and Marauders apologists (I've seen that some people don't like this term, so I mean people who erase the Marauders' flaws and make them morally superior to Snape, justifying them being abusers and him being abused.)

The nonsense of comparing a plot device to a complex, layered character: Comparing Severus and Regulus is ludicrous. You are comparing one of the most (I would argue the most well-written and complex, but Dumbledore is quite something as well) well-written, accomplished character of the books to a plot device. It is indeed what Regulus is, no matter if his character could have been really interesting/seems to be interesting: we know very little of him, and he exists solely for the Slytherin locket plot. The very little we know of him certainly isn't enough to express any critical judgment of his character; he is mostly made out of white pages which are filled out by his fans, which is great, and by the people making this kind of argument, which is unfortunate.

The interest in the character only stems in his usefulness: I would argue that the vast majority of people making this claim do not care at all for the character himself, despite using him as a moral high ground. It is not his character which interests them, but how useful he can be to fuel their hate and biased claims. His personality? Having being sorted in Slytherin. His merits? Being a Slytherin. This is the only fact that matters, because it allows them to 'prove' that Snape wasn't a hero (being a hero does not mean being a good person, by the way) and diminishes Severus' merits. Using a character solely for the purpose of depreciating, downgrading another is not appreciating them: it's just completely hypocritical. This is often the kind of flat argument used by people opposed to social justice movements, if you will allow the broad comparison: using something you have never cared for before (often minority populations) in an attempt to depreciate something, even though the very fact you are using them for this purpose shows how little concerned you are with the actual people you are talking about. Well, it reminds me of this a bit. The true purpose is to try and impose your own views, and here they try to legitimise them by filling an almost inexistent character with their views to carry on with their agenda.

The sudden leniency toward privileged characters: Making such a claim in fact once again proves that Snaters have an extremely biased, subjective and elitist vision of what being good means, an opinion on what is moral integrity (and superiority because they keep comparing people), which they also apply to James and Sirius. I think Regulus is loved because he is a Black, respected by the fandom because he comes from a pureblood, rich family. It is very easy to prove: look at how much love Draco and Lucius get, despite being supporters of blood supremacy, active members of a terrorist group, using discriminatory insults on a daily basis, being actively supportive of the murders of muggle borns/participating in these murders [do not misinterpret this - I'm pointing out double standards, not saying they should not be loved. One's interest in a character does not depend on the character's morals]. Look at how respected Snape was in the fandom before book 6, when people thought he was a rich pureblood from an ancient family. Social hierarchy has a great impact on how people view characters, and they tend to be much more lenient toward privileged characters, because prestige is attractive, even in fiction. Similarly - but it is more concealed - there is the usual refusal to acknowledge that social inequalities do impact one's life, choices, and opportunities to be or do good. The quote "You didn't make good choices! You had good choices" (Little Fires Everywhere) works quite well in this context, especially regarding James and Severus, but also regarding the Blacks versus Severus. Severus' survival was completely, utterly dependent on his adherence to blood supremacist values. This must be taken into account - but weirdly, this is an argument that is often used to prove Sirius' moral superiority, because his family required him to share their beliefs. This is ignoring that despite his difficulties, he still beneficiated from a support system and privileges that others did not have access to. Similarly, you cannot compare Regulus' and Severus' choices. And in my opinion, both are tragic; but if we had to take part in Snaters' silly arguments, then I would remind them that Regulus effectively had no obligation to join Voldemort, his parents were not death eaters. The pressure both characters experienced certainly wasn't of the same nature - even perhaps not of the same intensity. But does comparing them makes any sense, again...

The social biases: While Snape is blamed for his decision to join the death Eaters (rightly), Regulus is praised for his decision to leave them. While Regulus is pitied because he came from a family who brought him up with this ideology (just like Draco is), which apparently takes off all responsibility from him, Severus' background is never considered as a factor which pushed him right into extremists' opened arms. Regulus' privilege is used as an excuse; Snape's social disadvantage and familial issues are, at best, ignored, at worst, interpreted as proof of his inherently bad nature. Some people associate his upbringing with him being bad, whether they want to acknowledge it or not. While Regulus is headcanonned as handsome, Snape is constantly described as 'greasy' and 'ugly' by these same people, and you can see exactly how important appearances are to them. I'm even going to argue that worshipping a rich, handsome, privileged pureblood must sound better to them than being fond of the 'greasy git', and I am also saying these are mostly internalised biases. When you read these claims carefully, it sounds like in the mind of these people, Regulus is more legitimate as Slytherin's hero because he is better - inherently. And it is easy to see why.

The double-standards and their disturbing roots: This is also plainly ignoring the fact that Regulus and Snape defected for the same reasons, if we must make comparisons. Voldemort was targeting one of their loved ones, Kreatur for the former and Lily for the later, which made them realise, because they are humans and thus not selfless, how wrong his methods were when they turned against them. However, in Snape's case, turning against Voldemort in an attempt to save Lily is often held as proof of his selfishness/absence of morality: he wanted her for himself, he only deflected because someone he liked was in danger. In Regulus' case however, his gesture is seen as heroic and compassionate. Why? Well, there are a variety of reasons apart from Snaters' double standards, but I have noticed that most of them seem to think of Lily as 'belonging' to either James or Snape, and think Snape unworthy of having ever had Lily as a friend because of some kind of deep rooted flaws he had even as a child ('He tried to hurt Petunia with accidental magic when he was 11, he was always bad'. In fact I should make a post about how horrible this claim is.) In Regulus' case however, wanting to save Kreatur is seen as an act of compassion. Why? Not only because they want to make Regulus look better than Snape. I think it is also because Kreatur is a house-elf, an inferior being: Regulus' wish to protect him becomes praiseworthy, laudable, because house-elves do not really deserve consideration. So wanting to save him becomes an act of generosity. Even when you're not thinking of the double standards, this way of thinking is disturbing. Snape also turned against Voldemort at the age of 20, 21? Like Regulus did if I recall? They weren't death Eaters for very long. They both actively fought to bring Voldemort down. It would be tremendously hypocritical, wrong and plain bad faith to think of Regulus' action as superior to Snape's 20 years of hard work to bring Voldemort down.

So why can't Snape be a hero? I think this claim is a confession. To me it shows a very simplistic vision of heroism, of good and bad, of models, and a complete refusal to consider the grey, sometimes praise the grey- it's a failure to accept the complexity of the human functioning. Thinking that the people we praise for certain actions, or consider to be examples must be flawless is vain, simply because it is unrealistic, and we could not admire them/relate to them/like or dislike them/learn from them if they were not like us, layered and flawed - but this is exactly what this claim desperately wants us to believe. Or rather, what Snaters want to believe, while imposing their very biased views of good and bad, themselves rooted in prejudices. This is why they are using a character that is mostly inexistent: an empty, one dimensional character can fulfil this aim. This is also why so many people fail to appreciate characters such as James, Sirius and Remus without completely ripping off their flaws, and thus complexness - they cannot be loved if you can find fault in them.

#I think this ask is from July 2020 or something #I'm so sorry anon #Forgive me #Thoughts #My opinion #Meta #Regulus black #Severus Snape #Pro Snape

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aegor-bamfsteel · 3 years

Note

I know you're a blackfyre stan (THE Blackfyre stan, really), but are there any Targaryens that you do like, besides the wonderful Daena?

I'll take that as a compliment (although I consider myself more of a regular fan than a “stan”). While there do seem to be more Blackfyre fans on the Westeros Forums or Tower of the Hand than on Tumblr, even on this site I'm far from the only one, or even the only one who writes meta. A 2015 Reddit poll indicates that House Blackfyre is among the top 20 favorite ASOIAF houses, which, given that the members of House Blackfyre don't appear in the main series, are mentioned in only one of the supplementary books (The World of Ice and Fire), and only one member appears in one Dunk and Egg novella, is actually very impressive. They rank higher than Houses Blackwood and Velaryon, two of GRRM's most glorified houses in the supplementary material. Their favorability despite few canon appearances proves that GRRM doesn't need to prop them up with improbable marriages to his most popular houses (Stark, Lannister, Baratheon, or Targaryen), or to have unrealistically successful heroes (like 12 year old expert generals) whose atrocities (burning smallfolk septs or sexually preying on multiple teenagers as a middle aged man) aren't condemned in the narrative. Rather, he gave them potential to be compelling characters who try to do the right thing against a corrupt government that has to commit war crimes to stay in power, that question the validity of the Targaryen legacy in a post-dragon world, that get betrayed by people who aren't shown to be 2D cartoon villains, whose faults (even the imagined ones) are (overly) called out by the narrative, are tragic in that they are shown to be honorable or talented people but pursue a goal that kills them, or that try hard to succeed despite their physical or mental disadvantages.

Which segues in to the next part of your question: if there are any Targaryen characters I like besides Daena:

If you had asked me this before Fire and Blood came out, I would've had an easier time answering! I might've said something like: Visenya, Aegon I, Queen Alyssa, Queen Rhaena, Alysanne, Rhaenys the Queen who Never Was, Helaena, Daeron the Daring, Aegon III, Jaehaera, Baela the Burnt, Daeron I, Elaena, Rhaena the Septa, Queen Aelinor, Prince Daeron son of Aegon V, and Rhaella. Then Fire and Blood was published, and it actually made the characters less interesting, deep, or likable with its greater word count. My sometime collaborator fury-burns said it best in that it was world unbuilding "that added unnecessary edginess to an already grim piece of writing". Whether it was not knowing how to write the much-hyped Aegon I as a compelling character, Visenya becoming bloodthirsty to the point of having few political allies and chastised by Aenys for her advice on dealing with the Faith, Queen Alyssa's abuse after her marriage to Robar, Rhaena retconned into a lesbian (she was clearly in love with Androw in The Sons of the Dragon and Elissa was nowhere in sight) who smothered her daughter into an early grave and spent her last years as a miserable "ghost" of Harrenhal, Alysanne who obeyed her husband in not seeing Saera and tried to protect her grown up son from "predations" by his 14-year-old sister, Rhaenys who married the 21-years-older Corlys Velaryon "for love" and was killed in the only battle she was ever mentioned participating in, Aegon III as Jaehaera's cruel bully who didn't even mourn her passing, or Baela who was retconned into being younger and not having visible burn scars in order to be a more palatable wife to GRRM's favorite Alyn Velaryon (I find this one the most offensive given what it indicates about his expectations for women) and then cuts the same man who saved her life across the face with a riding crop...well, Fire and Blood made me realize it wasn't so much the characters as GRRM had written them that I liked, but the potential I or other fans saw in them to be multifaceted like those in the main series. The characters that didn't do anything particularly heinous in-universe were massively watered down, sexist versions of amazing historical figures (I explain in a response post about Helaena vs Queen Mathilde of Boulogne), or abused for shock value/the anger of a male character.

I got my start in the fandom just before A Dance With Dragons came out, and consequently I was there when some truly great pre-canon fics were published. I have some fond memories as a teenager waiting in the library reading fanfics on Aegon and his sisters, Maegor and Aenys, or Baela and her family. Seeing their complicated, brilliantly written, memorable versions of the characters contradicted by the blatantly rushed, shallow, and plot-based characterization of Fire and Blood made me feel badly for the effort the fans put in that GRRM refused to (he actually hates all but some fanfiction). I understand creating characters with a backstory and have their actions flow logically from that backstory, and giving them an arc in which they develop, is difficult (and is really almost impossible through the format in which GRRM chose to write the supplemental books, which explains why he thinks it's easier to write) but the characters are why readers love the series. None of the characters in Fire and Blood can hold a candle to the complexity, the unique design, or the impressive character development of Theon Greyjoy, Jaime Lannister, Tyrion Lannister, Sansa Stark, Catelyn Stark, Stannis Baratheon, or Daenerys Targaryen. If he had written these characters like he did Fire and Blood, it would've been a forgettable, grimdark Tolkien rip-off along the lines of Terry G00dkind's L3gend of the S33ker.

Thus I'm holding off on saying I like any of the other Targaryen characters until GRRM is finished with them. The only ones from Fire and Blood that I still think are interesting and have some kind of compelling internal conflict (though I still don’t think they were written with their full potential, and could’ve used more development on their relationships) are Queen Visenya and Prince Daeron the Daring. Princess Elaena, Aelinor Penrose, and Ser Daeron in particular have the potential to be interesting, conflicted characters from the back half of the Targaryen reign, but I no longer trust GRRM to follow up on them in a meaningful way. Reading Fire and Blood also gave me more appreciation for the canon-era Targaryens Viserys and Daenerys, and how much more carefully written they are than their ancestors.

#ask #opinion #house Targaryen #asoiaf #grrm criticism #GRRM critical #characters #opinions #house blackfyre #fandom

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motherfingtitan · 3 years

Text

Ignorance is Bliss

"When a routine holodeck security inspection goes wrong, new chief of security Jodie Sherret finds out what happened to her predecessor in the worst way possible.

"Are you coming to management training?" Billups’s voice broke her concentration as

Jodie Sherret looked up from her PADD.

"You mean senior crew karaoke?" She replied to Andy.

He shrugged, and they both continued down the hallway. Sherrets first weeks as the Cerritos new chief of security had been an emotional jumble of excitement, fear, joy, and sadness.

Quite a bit of sadness

As a Betazoid human hybrid, Jodie didn't have the telepathic abilities that full Betazoids had, but she was an empath. For the first week, every crew member she talked to radiated with sadness. Even during her first senior crew meeting, she was pounded with a mangled mess of depression that left her exhausted. She knew something tragic happened to her predecessor, but she felt it was inappropriate to ask so soon, especially when the ship had only left dry dock four weeks ago.

She knew a few things. Her predecessor was a Bajoran that went by Shax. He called his security crew the "Bear Pack," and after reviewing tactical programming, he loved to eject warp cores.

"Ransoms going to sing that song he heard while vacationing in Spain. I'm sure every glass in the bar is going to shatter," Billups continued, waving his hands around to emphasize just how bad Jack sang.

"I'll have to catch up with you later. I have to do an inspection on the holodeck. Some ensign, Bumford, I think" she twirled her right hand in the air. "Used all the crew's private logs to create a perfect holodeck simulation. I have to make sure there's no sensitive information in it before I delete it."

"Oh, Boimler! I remember him. He and his friends really saved us that day…." He trailed off.

And there it was again, that uncertain sadness that filled the space around them. She so badly wanted to understand what happened.

"It should only take me an hour, then I'll meet you guys" she tried to break the silence.

"Sounds good! The party will just be getting started. I'll save you a seat next to me" they reached a fork in the corridors, and Andy went left.

He waved as he turned another corner, out of sight. Jodie walked over to the closest turbo lift.

"Deck 8"

The turbo lift began moving, and the ambient sounds filled the air. She loved being alone, as it gave her time to take a break from many negative emotions. The lift slowed to a standstill, and the door slid open. Out she walked down the hallway, passing through ensigns work assignments. Arriving at the door to the holodeck, she rechecked her assignment.

"Computer, access holodeck program Boimler 7."

'This program requires authorization.'

"Authorization Sherret Beta-Four-Delta-Delta"

'Authorization granted, please specify which subprogram.'

"The hell?" She mouthed as the computer began listing out dates on the display. She scrolled up and down the different programs. The last date on the list caught her eye, stardate 57894.8, precisely a day before the Cerritos went into dry dock.

Maybe it was curiosity or just a random place to start, but Sherret chose that subprogram.

'You may enter when ready."

The door slid open to reveal the bridge. Freeman sat in the captain's chair with her legs crossed. Ransom was just walking in, flashing a smile to Freeman and handing her his PADD. Sherret stepped into the program as the doors slid shut behind her.

"These are the officers that are in the running for the Sacramento promotion," Ransom started.

Freeman waved him off. "I'll check it after we sort out this distress call from the Solvang. I can't believe Dayton's had that ship for a week, and she's already had an Ensign accidentally sit on the distress beacon button."

The Solvang? Jodie heard that that ship had been destroyed in an attack and lost all crew. Despite it being a holodeck program, her gut sank as she knew the inevitable was coming. They wouldn't get there in time.

Jodie began to walk over to the conn behind the captain's chair. The equipment and displays were slightly different, likely upgraded after the ship went into the dry dock. Behind the conn, two officers stood. The first she recognized as Billups, but the larger one next to him she had never seen. A glance at the two gold pips in his collar, and she realized that he was Shax. He was quite a bit taller than her and a great deal more intimidating. She started to look at the touchscreen on the wall, making herself look busy.

A lieutenant spoke, "Captain; we’re just about at the coordinates of the distress call."

"Drop to impulse."

After dropping to impulse, the view screens show a sight of rubble against a red, menacing backdrop.

"Shields up, red alert!" Ransom called out as debris hit the ship, causing all the officers on the bridge to stumble.

Shaxs spoke, "Collision alert. Impacts on decks Three, fifteen, and twenty!"

She stared in terrifying awe at her predecessor. His intense demeanor was a contrast to her more nuanced approach. It was surreal knowing that all of this had happened just a few weeks before Sherret first boarded the ship.

Looking over at the viewscreen, a large piece of debris that looked as if it had just gone through an explosion came into view. The words USS Solvang were plaster across it.

"My God! Is that the Solvang?" Freeman spoke.

"Not reading any life signs. The whole crew, they've been wiped out."

Suddenly, a mechanical arm grabbed the remaining piece of the destroyed ship. It pulled the rubble back and attached it to a much larger ship. Looking around, every officer on the bridge had looks of shock and fear in their eyes.

"They're harvesting the wreckage!"

The large ship began to shoot at the Cerritos, causing the decks to tremble.

"Evasive maneuvers!"

The next minute was a blur as the Cerritos tried and failed to escape the enemy or even send out a distress signal.

Shaxs was carefully monitoring damage reports, which at this point, we're coming in from all over the ship. Something alarmed him.

"Captain, they latched on to the port nacelle with some sort of mining arm!"

"Warp! Get us out of here!" Her commander's survival instincts kicked in.

"No! Shut down engines!"

"But we'll be sitting ducks!" Ransom tried to reason with the captain.

"Dayton would have thought the same thing, and look what happened to them. Shut it down!"

Both operations officers behind the conn tapped in the codes to shut down power. Just as the lights were growing dim, the ship jerked violently, Sending Sherret, along with the rest of the crew, flying across the bridge. The lieutenant managed to grab the chair’s arm to the left of the captains when she slammed into the ground. Sparks flew, and fires broke out, creating a disorienting haze. Hearing a scraping noise, Sherret looked up to see a metal ceiling plate about to rip away from the wires and fall.

"Captain, watch out!" Holo Freeman followed Jodie's eyes to the metal plate as it fell. The scream was sickening as the metal landed on the captain, cutting into her side.

"Computer, pause program!"

Everything paused. Sherret reoriented herself and sat in a more comfortable position.

"Do I really want to see this?" She spoke to herself. Everything in her screamed to stop the program and inspect something else. Just a boring old day that would put her to sleep. One look at Shaxs, who was bracing himself on the conn, made her change her mind.

"Computer, resume program."

One last jolt sent her flying back into the side of the chair before the ship eerily stood still. Two ensigns ran over to the captain as Billups turned auxiliary power back on. Jodie was just helping herself up when a menacing figure showed up on the viewscreen.

"We thought the Enterprise was strong. We are strong!"

Freeman’s voice wavered as she spoke, "This isn't the Enterprise; this is the Cerritos."

The figure took off its helmet "We thought you were the Enterprise."

Pakleds? The technology pillagers that took Geordi LaForge hostage in 2364? Sherret thought that they were a joke. Something to laugh about. The captain tried to reason with the Pakled, to no avail.

"We will cut your ship apart!" The transmission cut out as the Cerritos was pulled towards the other ship.

One of the Ensign, Boimler, who created this program, stated that the Pakleds had technology from over 30 different species.

They weren't a joke anymore.

The ship was brought into a repair bay of some sorts as a jolt was felt throughout the ship.

"They're phasering the hull!" Shaxs shouted.

Sherret ran to the conn that Billups was sitting at and looked at the force field integrity.

"Emergency force fields are holding, but I have no idea how long they're going to last on auxiliary power!" She spoke.

'None of this is happening right now,' she thought to calm herself down.. 'It happened before, but right now, Ransom is singing terribly, Freeman is uninjured, and the ship is safe.'

Mariner then stepped up and suggested a plan. A crazy dangerous plan, but a plan that worked considering that the Cerritos is still in one piece. Installing a program to disable the enemy ship was brilliant, and Sherret made a mental note to talk to Mariner about transferring to security.

Bright swirls of light appeared all over the bridge. "Intruders beaming in! Very slowly beaming in!"

'Safety protocols are offline. Extreme risk of injury or death.'

Jodie's blood drained from her face. "Computer, end program!"

'Unable to comply.'

"Computer, pause program!"

'Unable to comply.'

Boimler spoke, "Trust me, I really wish this was a program too!"

'No, no, no no no' she tapped on her combadge, desperately trying to get in contact with anybody, but nothing was getting through.

"We gotta go!" Mariner rushed everyone into the turbo lift.

"Deck 7," Shaxs practically roared.

The armory was located on that deck but all the way on the other side of the ship. How were they going to make it in time with Intruders beaming in all over the ship? The captain was already growing weak as she leaned on Shaxs for support.

'Come on! Somebody come in!' The tapping on her combadge grew more frantic as the turbo lift slowed to a stop. The doors slid open, and Mariner led the way down the corridor. Wires stuck out everywhere, sparks coming from them.

'Freeman, Ransom, Billups. Anyone come in!'

"We have to get to the armory!" Shaxs spoke just before all of them were cut off by Pakleds beaming in from all four directions. They were trapped.

"Looks like we'll have to repel them the old-fashioned way. Setting my fists to stun in my kick to kill." Mariner rolled her eyes back as she pulled off several different sheets of metal plating from the walls and ceiling. Numerous pieces of contraband, mainly consisting of weapons, fell from the compartments.

"Hey, we got all this" she kicked some weapons towards the group. The rest of the officers quickly started to arm themselves. "All the way in the back too!"

Sherret spotted a Glavin rolling towards her. She picked it up and placed it on her right hand, trying to get used to the weight.

"How much contraband have you hidden on my ship?" Holo Freeman asked.

"I don't know, a lot!" Was her only reply before the Pakleds started to materialize.

Sherret got in her fighting stance, fists and weapons up. The Intruders materialized and started running towards the group. In a split second, she dashed towards the Pakleds, swinging her weapon and hoping someone got her com call.

...

If there's one thing Commander Ransom thought he was good at but wasn't, it was singing.

Yo te amo y ahora perdóname

Solo recuérdame

Te amo, te amo, te amo

Te amo, te amo

The man was absolutely tone-deaf. The vast majority of crew members in 10 forward were internally cringing but trying to put on a pleasant facade because Jack was the first officer. All the way in the back corner, swirling his glass around but not taking a sip, was Commander Billups.

He glanced to his right, where Sherret would have been If she were here.

"What is taking her so long?" He spoke to himself, tapping his glass and watching the ripples that it made in his drink.

She was supposed to only take an hour, but it had already been nearly two. Staring at the seat for a moment longer, his combadge came to life.

"Help! Someone help!"

He nearly jumped before tapping his badge. "Commander Billups here. Report!"

The voice that came back was filled with fear and breathing heavily. "Oh, thank God! It's Lieutenant Sherret. The holodeck program I was running is corrupted. Safety protocols are offline, I can't get out of the program, and Holo Pakleds are attacking me. I need he-" a scream cut off the call.

Billups jumped from his booth and ran out of the bar, bumping into a few officers along the way. He sprinted to the nearest touch screen panel.

"Computer, what program is running in holodeck two?!"

'The program running is Boimler 7. Safety protocols are currently offline.'

"Turn safety protocols back on!"

'Unable to comply.'

"Initiate Chief Engineer override. Billups Alpha-Delta-Four-Four-Seven. Shut down holodeck two."

'Unable to comply.'

"What the heck is wrong with this thing?" He was nearly pulling his hair out looking. "Billups to Rutherford" he commed

"Rutherford here"

"Meet me outside of holodeck two. We have a serious problem with a corrupt program."

"On my way."

He ran back into the lounge, trying to act as normal as possible. He spotted T'ana, a deadpan expression plastered on her face with the occasional side glare to Nurse Westlake, who just shrugged in return. Coming up from behind, T'ana suddenly felt herself being pulled away mid-drink.

"Dammit! What the hell?" She snarled.

"Sorry, need to borrow her for a second," Billups said to nurse Westlake, who just raised an eyebrow in return.

"Ok, what the hell was that!" The doctor snapped when they finally stepped out of the lounge.

"Sherret is stuck in a dangerous holodeck program. She commed me midway through the program, and the last thing I heard was a scream. She might be injured."

T'ana stood looking at him for a moment, observing the worry in his eyes. "Alright. I'm sure it's nothing major, but I'll get a team on standby.

...

The scene was insane. The sound of weapons hitting surfaces and the grunts from the Pakleds and the crew muddled together for disturbing background noise. Sherret was currently swinging her weapon at two Pakleds, landing several decent hits.

There were just so damn many of them!

Shoveling her glavin into one of the pakleds stomachs, she was able to kick it in the knee, causing him to collapse. Behind her, Shaxs was throwing bodies at one another and, at one point, literally head-butted one of the enemies. While looking over at Shaxs, a Pakled came up from behind and swiped her. The force throwing her across the hallway, and blood seeped out of her newly formed wound.

"Little fucker" she mumbled, gripping her wound.

Another was charging after her. Sliding out of the way at the last second, the Pakled slammed itself into the wall, where she was able to shove the weapon directly into its lower back.

"Mom!" Sherret glanced up, seeing Mariner across the hallway running to the collapsed captain.

There was so much blood, with the sticky liquid pooling on the floor. Mariner tried to pull her up before the entire ship shook, and a bright phaser beam tore through the hallway. Shaxs ran over to the captain and picked up her weak frame. Both him and Boimler ran towards sickbay.

"Ransom! Get our backs!" Mariner yelled out before following her mother.

"Way ahead of you," he side kicked another Pakleds, causing it to fall and mumble, "my leg!"

"Hey! Any particular reason you two aren't using weapons?" Sherret swung at the Pakled, being pinned against the wall by Billups.

"I only need my hands as wepo-" Jack was cut off by a punch to the face. Falling to the ground, he managed to use both of his legs to kick the Pakled off. "Double leg kick!"

More yellow energy beams appeared in the hallways.

"Guys, we have more beaming in!" Billups yelled

"How many of these guys are there?" Sherret stood in a fighting stance.

"I don't know, but whatever happens, do not let them get past sickbay!" Ransom threw his signature kicks and punches.

Though they were able to get a majority of the Pakleds off their backs, a few pinned the three right against sickbay doors. Just as she had crushed another holo Intruder's kneecap, the sick bay doors slid open, revealing Shaxs with Rutherford over his shoulder. They began to run down the hallway.

'This is my chance,' Sherret thought. She could finally learn what happened to her predecessor.

She took off running, desperate to keep up with them. She had only ran about 10 ft before getting cut off by a large yellow phaser beam. It was so bright that the lieutenant had to cover her eyes temporarily. Without seeing it, someone snuck up on her. Something forcefully tugged at her hair, throwing her off balance and onto the ground. Her eyes shot open, but it was too late.

From there, she was picked up and shoved into the wall. Suddenly, the Pakled put immense pressure on her neck. Looking down, a metal bar pressed against her throat, most likely a handle from an old weapon. The Pakled lifted her from the ground, her only support being the metal bar choking her and her hands trying to tear it away. The pressure was insane, and every breath felt like it was only getting a drop of oxygen. She flailed their arms back and forth, desperately clawing at the metal, trying to get the bar off of her before she blacked out from lack of oxygen.

...

"Well, what did he say?" Mariner ran down the hallway, trailing behind Rutherford.

"He just said it was a serious problem with a corrupt holodeck program," Rutherford replied, making a sharp right turn. He saw Billups frantically waving at him from the other side of the hallway.

"I hope whoever is in there is going to be okay," Tendi added.

"I'm sure everything is going to work out," Mariner replied as the three ensigns skidded to a stop at the end of the hallway.

Rutherford rushed over to the holodeck control panel, where his boss was already trying to type in different commands to end the program. "What program is running, sir, and who's in there?"

"Boimler 7, Lieutenant Sherret was doing a routine inspection of it before safety protocols failed."

Rutherford knew that program, as ever since he got his new implant, bits of memories were coming back. He started working on the code in the system. But something was wrong, and it looks like it had been messed with in ways that Boimler wouldn't do.

"Sir, I think someone went in and edited the program, and that's why the safeties failed. The entire coding of it is off" he glanced over at Mariner.

It wasn't too far of a fetch, as Mariner had gone into that program and edited it to make her movie. But why would safeties go off? It's not like any of them got injured there.

Except for the side of Rutherford's head and her lips.

Oh shit.

Billups and T'ana eyes followed Rutherford to Mariners. "what in the hell did you do?" T'ana asked

"I reprogrammed Boimlers holodeck program so that I could do some much-needed therapy in a movie. I don't know what disabled safety protocols."

"Is that why both you and Rutherford showed up to my office bleeding that day?"

"Yeah"

Billups pinched the bridge of his nose. "You messed with a holodeck program, came out bleeding, and you didn't tell anyone!"

"I get thirsty after holodeck therapy sessions! And then I forgot…."

"Well, you're forgetfulness could get another security officer killed!" He shouted.

T'ana stepped in between them "Both of you need to calm the fuck down before I deem you medically unfit to continue duty," Billups opened his mouth just to be cut off by T'ana, "and don't give me any 'I'm the CHENG' bullshit. Let’s just figure something out"

Mariner used this as an opportunity to dust off her contraband. Pulling a panel on the wall, many bits and pieces from different places fell out, including a crowbar. "Sometimes you got to do with the old-fashioned way" she swung the heavy metal crowbar around.

"And just where the hell did you get a crowbar?" T'ana irritated voice cut through the tension.

Beckett shoved one end of the crowbar into the space where the closed doors met and began to push against the metal bar. "Stole it on shore leave a couple of weeks back. Are any of you gonna help me pry this door open before knock-off Troi gets impaled?"

Tendi ran over and began to pull on the other side of the crowbar. Grinding filled the air as the door slid open a fraction of an inch.

"Someone check what's going on. I can't hold it for long" Tendi and Mariner put their entire weight into the bar.

Billups was able to see through the tiny slit. Scanning the scene, he finally spotted Jodie in a battered and slightly bloody state. A holo Pakled held her against the wall with a metal pipe. Gasping for air, she desperately clawed at the bar, arms and legs swinging. Then with a grinding noise, the door slammed shut, throwing D'vana and Beckett to the floor.

T'ana irritated expression softened when she saw all the blood drain from Andy's face.

"That bad?"

He took a deep breath. "Yeah, it's recreating the Pakled fight. Rutherford, go down to engineering and see if you can cut the power off there. I'll stay up here and keep trying."

Rutherford ran off, and Billups took his spot, quickly resuming the work that his ensign had already started.

...

Jodie's vision began to darken around the edges as the pressure on her neck increased with every second. Her holo enemy had nothing but malice in his eyes. Just as she began to feel limp, the pressure released.

"Side kick! Double punch!" The holographic version of her first officer had disarmed the enemy and knocked them out. Sherret dropped to her hands and knees, gasping sweet oxygen in as fast as she could.

"Lieutenant!" He helped her up.

"I'll live," she croaked out, hoping that statement was true. "How many more?"

"I think we got most of them," Holo Billups leaned against the wall, catching his breath.

The turbo lift doors on the far end of the corridor opened, revealing a few straggler Pakleds, likely coming from the bridge.

"Are you okay to fight?" Ransom asked

Sherret nodded, barely having a voice to speak anymore. She picked up the metal pole that was held against her neck moments ago off the ground and held it at an angle against her body.

"Billups, catch!" Ransom threw a battle-ax at him as the Pakleds closed in.

In much of a Ransom style, he simply put his fists in a fighting position. "You guys ready to get the last of these assholes out of here?"

"Ready when you are!" Billups replied, and Sherret nodded as they all took their first swings.

Sherret slowly realized that neck injury might have been worse than she initially thought, and she noticed her fighting was way weaker than average. Every swing of the pipe brought uncomfortable pressure to the front of her neck, and even though she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to ignore the pain, it still made her fighting speed much slower. Billups and Ransom, however, were fighting at full strength, making up for her slowness.

"How much more do we have!" her voice sounded terrible.

“Just these idiots,” ransom yelled with two enemies surrounding him.

"We will tear you apart, just like we tore this ship apart," the Pakled yelled.

"I don't think so" Moving slightly between them; he was able to kick one of them in the crotch, causing the intruder to collapse and let go of his weapon. Ransom grabbed the weapon just as the first intruder was falling to the ground and managed to hit the second one on the head. Both fell into the same pile.

Ransom hitched his leg up slightly and let his footrest on one of the bodies. "That'll teach you all not to mess with Commander Jack Ransom!"

"Jack, you may want to look at this," Billups called out. Towards the outside light coming from the end of the hallway. Sherret followed, and Ransom trailed behind.

"The shuttle" Ransom ran over to the window at the end of the corridor.

There, the shuttle floated aimlessly around the ship. Peaceful even.

Boom

The explosion of the pakleds ship shook the already weak Cerritos to its core. The light engulfed the entire hallway and sent all three officers stumbling to the ground.

It was breathtaking in a terrifying way, and as Sherret looked at that giant explosion, she knew what happened. Shaxs never made it back to the shuttle. He died in the blast.

She just watched her predecessor die.

"I sure hope both of them got out," Billups spoke up as the noise finally quieted down.

"They both did. Shaxs isn't going to be taken down that easily" Ransom slowly stood up. He was still trying to find his balance.

"Commander Ransom," his combadge sparked to life, "We just pulled the shuttlecraft back into the ship. She's in pretty bad shape, sir. You better take a look."

"Acknowledged, I'll be right there" he turned to Billups. "The lieutenant and I will go down to the shuttle bay. You get to engineering and make sure we aren't leaking radiation."

The run to the shuttle bay was excruciating, not just because of her neck injury but because she knew what would happen. Shaxs wouldn't be in the shuttlecraft. She'd be forced to see everyone's reaction and to see why she was even assigned to the Cerritos in the first place.

Shuttle bay didn't look much better than the rest of the ship, with much of the equipment on the walls busted and ripped out. There, being pulled into the ship was the Sequoia in all its glory. As soon as the shuttle stopped moving, Ransom ran to the side and pulled the door open. Each movement filled Sherret with more dread.

Stepping into the shuttle, both officers saw Rutherford collapsed on the ground with his implant ripped out.

Ransom yelled, "Get him to sickbay!" Medical personnel came in and picked Rutherford up.

Ransom paced around, trying to see if Shaxs was there. Ransom knew he wasn't, as he would have seen him when he first entered the shuttle, but the denial was getting to him. The realization hit him like a truck. He pulled back his fists and slammed them into the console out of anger while screaming.

Tears began to fill Sherret's eyes. Not like this! She didn't want to see the crew like this. She didn't want to know what happened like this! She leaned against the shuttle wall, dizzy and still in shock.

'Safety protocols restored.'

The scene changed, and instead of leaning against a shuttle wall, she leaned against the back wall of the holodeck. It was over, but it didn't feel over.

...

"Rutherford, I need options now!" Billups was starting to panic now, as every program he had tried had failed to shut the holodeck down.

"Sir, the fastest thing I could do is shut down power to that section of the ship and then turn it back on. That should be enough to shut the holodeck program down," he said through the comm.

"How long would power be shut down to this section?"

"Approximately 1 minute"

"Then do it. Use override if you have to."

The hallway went dark, the only lights being emergency lighting. Time stood still for what seemed like ages as Billups kept his eyes glued to the control panel.

"Restarting power, sir, I'll be right up there" Rutherford ended the call from engineering.

The power slowly came on, illuminating the hallway. The control panel came back online and cleared any existing programs running on the holodeck, including Boimler 7.

"Finally!"

The doors finally slid open just as Rutherford ran down the hallway. The bright light made Sherret turn around to face the door. Her eyes widened in shock as tears rolled down her face. T'ana, Tendi, and Billups ran in, leaving Mariner and Rutherford standing just outside the door.

The lieutenant began to sway from weakness and dropped to her knees. The other officers surrounded her.

"T'ana, is she ok?" Billups voice filled with worry

"Does she fucking look ok? Don't ask stupid questions!"

Sherret held her neck, thinking that somehow, just maybe, the contact would help the pain go away. Billups looked at her oddly when she kept holding her neck.

"Her neck!" Billups realized "she was choked"

"Pull her hair up. I want to check it."

Billups gently gathered her undone hair and held it at the top of her head, careful to avoid pulling on the cut on her hairline. T'ana made quick work unbuttoning the torn jacket as Jodie's bruised neck came into view. A blotchy mess of bruises and bloody abrasions replaced what was ordinarily pale skin. It was a sight that made both senior officers' eyes widen.

"Holy shit. We need to get her to sickbay! Tendi, load a hypospray." T'ana commed nurse Westlake to get a stretcher to the holodeck ASAP.

It was so painful for Jodie. With the adrenaline wearing off, each gasp felt like needles running down her neck.

"Is, is that how it happened?" Sherret spoke between gasps. Her voice hoarse from being strangled. "Is that what happened to the ship? To sha-"

"Don't talk. I don't want you to permanently damage your neck" T'ana worked with Tendi loading a hypospray.

Andy let go of her hair and placed both hands on her shoulders. "Come on, Jodie, stay with us. Stay with me."

Tears still ran down her face, hitting the holodeck floor.

T'ana walked over with a hypo. "I can't have her jerking her neck around," she pressed a hypo against Sherrets neck. "Sorry, kid"

The world faded into darkness as sherret slumped forward right into Billups’s arms.

...

"She's waking up."

"Get me a hypospray. She’s going to want painkillers."

Jodies face scrunched at the cold hypo being administered.

"Hey, sleepyhead. Welcome back!" Tendis smile was the first thing Jodie saw.

"What the?" Her eyes started between the four people standing over her. "This isn't my quarters?"

“Nope, You’re in sickbay,” Westlake spoke.

"You were on the holodeck being attacked by Pakleds. Rutherford and Billups managed to get you out, though." Tendi continued.

“So that's what happened." Jodie attempted to sit up before being pushed back down by T'ana. "Take it easy. You got the crap beaten out of you in there. I don't know why you can disable the safety protocols on the holodeck. Damn death traps."

"That's not the worst thing I saw in there."

An uncomfortable silence filled the room.

"Tendi, finish that paperwork from the blood samples earlier. Westlake, cover for me while I finish this"

The two nurses exited one of the few private medical rooms in sickbay. Tendi wished the officer a fast recovery before closing the door. Beeping came from the medical tricorder as the doctor scanned her patient.

"You're looking better. When you first came here, you had strangulation injuries along with some lacerations and a couple of bruised ribs. Your vocal cords were damaged, though, and the only thing that will heal that is time. And yes, you're going to sound like a dying Tribble for the next couple of weeks."

She crooked "How long was I asleep for"

"12 hours. I tried to get your friend to go back to his quarters, but he wouldn't budge."

"Oh," she mouthed, looking over at the exhausted yet relieved state of the chief engineer.

"I still want you to stay here for another day. After that, you're on light duty for the next two weeks."

Jodie took a deep breath. "Is that what happened?"

Unnerving silence

"Is that what happened to your former-" she was cut off by T'ana

"I heard you the first time. And yes, that is what happened." She pursed her lips. Trying to think of what to say next. "I wish you could have found out differently."

She pressed a button on the biobed, allowing it to incline to a 45° angle. "Ok, kid, I gotta check up on some other stuff. I'll give you another hypospray soon." She turned to Billups, "and you have fifteen minutes. You look like hell, and your jacket looks like it's been through a murder scene." She left the room.

"Is that my blood?" Jodie looked at the smear of red extending from Billups’s shoulder to his chest.

"Uh, yeah. You had a cut on your forehead when you passed out and fell into me. It's ok, though. I have tons of jackets. Engineering gets messy."

"Does the entire ship know?" She avoided eye contact.

"No one but us. Captain just knows you were in a holodeck accident."

"Thank goodness"

'Deep breath Jodie, ' she thought before continuing, "I knew something bad happened. I could feel it every time I talked to anybody on the ship for the first two weeks. But seeing it. Seeing it happen just makes everything worse."

At this point, Andy had pulled a chair over to her bed.

"And you guys went through it; you were there when Shaxs died. I just went through a holographic version of it."

"Everyone on the ship is still upset about what happened. I know I am. Shaxs was like a big brother to me, and I miss him. You shouldn't feel bad, though. No one views you as just a replacement. You're doing an amazing job as a bridge officer." He ran a hand through his untamed hair before reaching out and grabbing hers, "and for what it's worth, I'm glad you're here."

Sherret chuckled weakly. "Thanks. For everything, you really saved my ass back there."

"Don't mention it. I was also wondering, and I was going to ask this before the whole holodeck thing" he fiddled with the blanket in the bed with his free hand, "after you're all healed up, and your voice heals a little bit, did you wanna do dinner in my quarters?"

Her eyes widened. "Commander?"

"If no one's around, you can just call me Andy."

"Oh," she mouthed, "I would say the same thing, but I think you already called me Jodie in the holodeck."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

“I had a feeling you were going to ask. Ya know, the whole empath thing.”

He chuckled in return, and they sat in silence for a few moments, feeling the warmth in each other's hands. They knew Billups would have to leave soon, as T'ana was notoriously strict about timing and visiting hours. Silently, Jodies raised her arms. Confusion spread across Andy's face before realizing she wanted a hug.

Gently, as not to disturb her neck, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled in for a hug. Unknown to both of them, T'ana had walked in the room to kick Billups out. However, seeing this made her change her mind just a little bit. A slight smirk spread across her face.

She stepped outside and closed the door behind her. "I'll give him another 5 minutes."

...

This was originally thought up in early spring, long before we even got the first teaser for season two. Needless to say, its only season one canon compliant.

Special thanks to @antzonian for all the help, especially dialogue

#star trek #star trek lower decks #Lower Decks

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