#hope someone looks at me with the warmth and endearment that heavy looks at medic with one day

[eeefroggyeee]

Redraw of my favorite tf2 meme

[kim-monsterlings]

Jem - M Naga x F  Human (Reader) // NSFW Monster Match

Monster match for @reeplaysvideogames <3

Matches will be under the read more!

Content: NSFW/Lemon; size difference (faintly), throat kisses, use of endearment “little one,” fluffy flirting, slight teasing, receiving fingering, alluding to more

Masterlist // Monster Match Info + Masterlist // My Ko-Fi

Headcanon

First seeing Jem followed him moving into the empty apartment across from yours.

Obsidian scales scattered in small diamonds from his wide tail, coiled tight in the narrow hallway. Peeking from the low chest of his shirt, they reflected along his collarbones.

Everything to him was sharp, angular, and tense. Muscular and strong, not a scale nor hair as dark out of place.

And if you lingered to peer through the peephole until your new neighbour locked himself inside, it wasn’t to his knowledge.

Moving in some time ago, you hadn’t introduced yourself to neighbours. Only after passing in the lift or walking into the building together had you befriended the half-demon to one side and orc to the other.

You wouldn’t be introducing yourself to him.

Something of the mass of coils unnerved you, in the way of his face hardening beneath glinting scales, light catching a sharp fang jutted against his bitten lip.

Least of all things would you want to finally meet him after a long day, returning from collecting your medication and aching.

Facing a thin-lipped naga almost baring his fangs forced you to a stop.

He barred your door. Not maliciously - you hoped, but by sheer size, with the length of his tail unable to remain contained. Scaled fists dug tight to his chest, lowering the thin shirt and revealing the glimmer of the diamond pattern running down.

When he smiled, it looked more of a grimace; like it didn’t fit on his face.

“Need a hand?”

After quiet introductions, Jem offered himself whenever you needed him. He spoke softer around those fangs, though they hardly worried you when his stance loosened at your returning smile.

People avoided him, he told you. People skirted around him as well as they could, so you returned the same offer to him a breath before returning indoors; that you would accept his help, should he seek you for company.

When he asked you out for a drink, his shoulders stooped low and his sharp teeth bit into his lip. “As a date,” Jem whispered. The slight lisp to his words brought flutters to your navel. His tail lifted him well above you to crowd the hallway, but he remained conscious of his height, his tail never stilling. “Tonight?”

You asked him inside instead, and woke curled into his warm coils, Jem’s cheek to your crown, his hand fallen to stroke your waist.

Jem bundled you close on days you were too worn to go further than your lounge. He’d ask you to teach him how to play your favourite game and sometimes play with you, though often choosing to distract you from a building fatigue with sweet kisses to your temple.

The night he first slept with you in his arms, it was from his thumbing through your old books, finding one with faded pages and a broken spine. Jem teased – “let me read to you, little one,” - the book lifted above his shoulder and well out of your reach until you sunk into the sofa.

Not for long. He liked you in his arms.

Jem loved when you read to him, with his cheek to your thighs and your fingertips following the scales running along his nape.

Drabble

Jem settled you gently into a loop of his coils. Not long ago, you had tucked a newly cut key into his coat pocket before he left for his own bed, a gift he discovered at home and used moments later to lift you into a tight hug. That gift beckoned him not to his flat but yours after dreary days apart, until he crept against you, scales rasping before he rested with lips soft to your cheek.

Having him close coaxed you into resting. The ease of his deep breaths lulled you, soothing the aches persisting from the moment you woke. Your last dose hadn’t been too long before your boyfriend returned and was yet to hit, but his warmth already tempted you into curling deeper to his arms.

“Someone’s reading ahead,” he murmured, a hand heavy on your hip. Prying touches stroked beneath your shirt to tug you firmer to his broad chest. Jem’s lips curled and drew on your earlobe in such a way that had your breath hitching. “Let’s go to bed.”

The fine print of the pages blurred with his arm winding down to your thighs. “I’m not tired.”

“No?”

“No.”

His touch changed in the slightest of ways. Where he held you close became a firmer embrace, his fingers gripping your thigh tighter. Jem stroked higher and whispered, “you’re so beautiful.” He nuzzled against your throat. “Not too sleepy?”

Your words trembled with his hand running over your chest. “Not yet.”

“Read to me, little one.” Jem slid his fingers along your hips and lower, tracing beneath your loose clothing to tease a gasp from you. His touch fell away as fast, slow, faint and ignoring where you ached for him. “I missed your lovely voice. Please?”

Beneath you, heavy coils rasped. Their weight warmed you like the mound of his palm against your low nerves, easing as you tried to look through the haze misting your stare. The book slanted in your slackened hold from Jem’s finger crooking. His scaled knuckle stroked deeper and returned the fog clouding your book.

Jem muffled his soft laugh with you side-tracked, fingers tight to his wrist. You urged him lower and let your thighs fall apart. The pad of his thumb ran in slow circles to your clit, the pace taunting enough you almost reached for the book so he would pleasure you how you needed.

“Jem,” you whispered, face turned back to him. “Please.”

His lips flushed pulled against his teeth. “Bed?”

With the dull pains and the weakness in your knees from his touches, you hugged him tight. “Carry me?”

“Like I wouldn’t, little one.”

[thedarklingxalina]

A Darklina fic I'm playing about with but not committing to yet. This would be the first chapter. I need to finish Dark Guardian first but this idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Eclipse

Summary: Alina is an investigative journalist, investigating the death of her childhood friend, Mal.

Alina is reunited with her other childhood friend, Aleksander - known to the world as Kirigan, a famous actor and grisha rights activist. All too quickly though, Alina begins to discover Aleksander is hiding a dark secret.

Modern Grisha AU. Everyone has their powers. Mentions of suicide. Mild torture.

Saints, give me strength. 

Alina stared at the rusty mesh gates through the rain speckled windscreen. A barrage of warning signs prohibiting entrance were pinned across the fencing. Keep out. Danger. Risk to life. On one fence was a display of withered flowers entwined around the metal, with hand-made laminated pleads to stay away, to remember that someone out there loves you. 

It was a somber sight. Careful reminders of the danger that lurked behind that run-down gate, past the abandoned warehouses, looming at the end of decrepit wooden bridges. Even from here Alina could see the mass of swirling shadows, an endless stretch of darkness that tore Ravka in two.

And here she was armed with wire cutters, ready to break in. Foolish, reckless, stupid. Exactly what she had been told not to do. 

This is for Mal, she reminded herself.  

Alina took in a deep breath and left the warmth and safety of her car. She put on her medical face mask, slipped on a pair of disposable gloves and tucked her camera inside her satchel. 

She didn't plan on staying here long, but seeing as research into the side effects of prolonged exposure to the Fold was ongoing, she decided to err on the side of caution. 

Gravel crunched under her boots as she approached the fence, making her way to a part hidden by the treeline. There she cut a reasonable size hole for herself to squeeze through. 

So far, getting into the site was easy. Too easy really, considering the dangers of this place.

Abandoned heavy equipment littered the rubble ridden grounds. Metallic, battle-worn Skiffs (centuries ago once manned by Squallers before new technological advancements replaced them) laid in ruins around the site; rust-encrusted, dented and torn up. The warehouses were dilapidated, weathered down and overgrown with weeds. 

And that wasn't even mentioning the bridges that crossed the ten foot moat, giving unhindered access to the Unsea and the monsters within. 

This place was a death trap. 

"Why in the Saints name did you come back here, Mal?" Alina asked. 

He had loathed this place. Everyone in Os Atla had. There had been vocal opposition from the public for decades, demanding the site be shut down. The residents of the city uncomfortable with an access point to the Fold being right on their doorstep. 

This skiffyard's infamous reputation for being the most dangerous, certainly hadn't endeared it to people, no matter the flow of trade it provided. It had the highest fatality and injury rate of an skiffyard. Budget cuts producing poorly made Skiffs that broke down frequently and were east pickings for Volcra. Breaching person capacity on each trip to increase profit. Bribing of safety inspectors. Understaffed. Overworking their employees to exhaustion. 

The place had been a nightmare. The stories Mal had told Alina about it over the years still made her recoil. 

The final nail in the coffin for Skiffyard 13 had been when three urban explorers had snuck into the docks, using it to bypass the the forest and ten foot moat separating the Fold from the city - deterrents erected over a century prior, to keep the public safe. The three individuals, the youngest only fourteen years old, had never came out again. 

The dock had been shut down. Workers like Mal had been relocated to other docks outside the city.

Yet despite this, the site had never been dismantled. It was too expensive, was the frequent excuse. The go to excuse for all failures in protecting the general public from the dangers of the Unsea. 

Now, it was the easiest access point to the Fold. No workers to sneak past, no checkpoints, and no maintenance to the gates and various deterrents. There wasn't even video surveillance or electrical fencing, as electronics were unreliable this close the Fold. And much to the people of Os Atla's grief, no armed patrols or guards dogs to keep trespassers like her out.  

Oh, the mayor promised they would upgrade the security on access points to the Fold regularly. But those promises seemed to be forgotten after the elections had passed. Funny that. 

As Alina scanned the deserted skiffyard, the Fold a short walk away, she realized the bitter irony of it all.

It didn't take long for Alina to find the place she was looking. Dock Six. The last place Mal had last been seen alive. 

Alina took a shuddering breath, her grip on her satchel tightening. she closed her eyes, feeling the sting of tears at her eyes.

Another life lost to the Fold, the news reporter had said. A tragic suicide, the police had decided, he left a farewell note on the dock.

A farewell note that doesn't mention me? His childhood best friend. That doesn't mention his girlfriend Lucy who he had planned to propose to on her birthday? 

But Alina's protests had fallen on deaf ears. She was nothing but a grieving girl in denial to them. Even Lucy had tried to discourage her, wanting her to accept-

No. Alina wouldn't hear it. Mal didn't take his own life. He hadn't. He wouldn't. Alina had spoken to him days before. There had been something he had wanted to tell her, something he hadn't felt safe discussing over phone or email. A story, he had said, that people need to know. Then that phone call the night he vanished. That desperate, breathless voice pleading with her through a breaking line. 

Alina... don't... Atla... away- 

Mal? Mal, is that you? I can't hear you, the line is terrible. Where are you? 

Distant shouting, five loud bangs, more static.

Mal? Mal!

Stay away... sorry... sorry...

Something had happened to Mal that night. Something awful that the police were refusing to look into. Alina was sure of it. And come hell or high water, she was going to find out what. She owed it to Mal, to Lucy, to herself. 

Alina scouted the area, alighting her hand with a soft glow to light her way.

It took a while, but the Saints finally took pity on her and Alina found something. Something that she suspected to be the source of the bangs in that final phone call. Gouged into a floorboard of the dock, into a post, and a concrete wall. 

Bullet holes.

They weren't old. The moss overgrowing the post and floorboards having been blasted off with the impact, yet to have grown back. 

Alina snapped some photos. 

After an hour prowling around each bullet hole site, sometimes on hands and knees, getting caked in dust and mud, Alina was ready to give up when an idea sprung to mind. She summoned her light, shining it across the ground until something silver glinted back. 

A bullet, hidden among the overgrown weeds. Alina took more photos before putting the bullet in a labeled ziplock bag. 

Suicide in deed, Alina mused bitterly. Had the police even bothered to check the scene? 

"I'll find out what happened to you, Mal. I swear it."

Alina rose to her feet, dusting her trousers.

Mal had come here for a reason, and whatever it was, someone had killed him for it. But what could be here that was worth killing over? 

There was only one warehouse stable enough to enter. Warehouse three. Alina didn't bother to pick the lock, just melted it off its hinges then crept in. 

The warehouse was massive and surprisingly well maintained. Everything was clean. There was no debris. Creates and boxes were stacked high and neatly.

Alina frowned, extinguishing her light in favor of using a battery powered torch.

If there were people here, she didn't need them knowing she was Grisha. That element of surprise could be the difference that mattered. Besides, there were too many out there that despised her kind; having people know you were Grisha was like walking around with a bullseye on your back. 

Alina crept behind a row of shelves, occasionally taking photos. She stopped at an easy to reach pile of boxes and pulled back the lids. 

Oxygen canisters, boxes of personal protective equipment, bullets (but not the same as the one that she found outside; these were longer and bigger, meant for something... larger.) 

This is all essential items for crossings, Alina realised. And it's all new. 

Someone had to making illegal crossings across the Fold, using these docks as their access point. 

Alina closed the lid, a dreadful unease settling over her. 

What are they taking across the Fold that requires all the secrecy? 

Maybe the answer was in another crate. Alina moved to open another- 

A sharp tug on her heart stilled her, making her choke for air. Alina fell to her knees, the energy in her body bleeding from her.

As darkness consumed her, one though flickered through her mind. 

Saints above, she hated Heartrenders.

☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑☀️🌑

Alina was no stranger to danger. Her investigative journalism had gotten her into many a difficult situation. But nothing ever quite this bad. 

When Alina had awoken, it was to find herself tied to a chair, her hands separated and bound to a steel bar (rendering her powers useless). She was blind folded; inconvenient and certainly unnerving, but it gave her some hope. Whoever had assaulted her, cared if she saw their faces. If they were going to kill her a blindfold wasn't necessary.

"Who are you?" A man asked. Middle aged by the deep roughness. Ravkan by the accent. A grumpy git, by the tone. 

Not the person you're looking for, Alina wants to snark, but thinks better of it. They might not be fans of Star Wars references and honestly, she is too exhausted to try and be smart. Besides, snarky quips and teasing here would only charm her way into a pair of cement boots and a dip in the river. Or the Unsea. 

Alina tried not to shiver. 

"I said who are you?" Grumpy demands. 

"Alina Starkov. Investigative Journalist for the Ketterdam Express News."

There's no point lying. They probably already know who she is with a quick internet search. Lying will only make them mad. 

"What's a small-time news journalist doing in Os Atla?"

Alina twitches at his comment. 

This time the man who speaks is younger. He has a scratchy voice and bratty attitude that made Alina want to kick him in the shin. 

"I'm looking for a friend of mine. Nothing more. He went missing three months ago and was last spotted working at the docks you snatched me from." 

Wouldn't happen to have seen him, would you? Put a bullet through his head perhaps? 

"Name?" Grumpy asks.

"Mal Oretsev."

"Never heard of him. Seems you've wasted your time, Nancy Drew," Bratty said. 

I doubt that, Alina mused bitterly. She had clearly stumbled onto something if they were willing to kidnap and interrogate her. 

"That's a shame," Alina said with exaggerated glumness. "Well, if you could just untie me I can head off. Wouldn't want to keep you guys later than need be."

Grumpy snorted. Bratty let out a nasty chuckle (Alina would wager a week on gossip column duty, that Bratty had a very punchable face).

"We can't have snoopy reporters buzzing around here," Bratty says.

Don't panic, Alina tells herself. Don't-

Alina hears the rustle of fabric, then the dreaded sound of a gun's safety clicking off. 

-starting to panic.

"And you think a dead one will prevent that?" Alina swallowed down the hysteria threatening to overwhelm her, but there was still a frantic edge to her voice. "There are people who know where I am and know to call the police if I don't make it back soon. Within an hour this place will be swarming!" 

"She's bluffing." 

"You think I'm stupid enough not to have a back up plan in case something like this happened?" 

If she said it strongly enough, maybe even she would believe it. Because really, a smart journalist would have done that. 

"You were stupid enough to get caught."

Prick.

"You have a heartrender, that's cheat-" 

Someone slapped her, Bratty she would bet. Alina cries out as pain flares hot on her cheek.

That'll leave a bruise, Alina muses bitterly.

"That's enough," Grumpy snapped, his footsteps loud as he got closer. "Tell us, what information do you have on Project Likhoradka?"

Alina frowned. The name rung a bell, but it was too distant to make out. Likhoradka... why would they think she had any information on it? Was it because she had mentioned Mal? Did it have something to do with the illegal Fold crossings? 

"I don't know anything about-" 

Someone slapped her again, worse than before. Where his hand had connected, her skin burned and ached.

Bastard, bastard, bastard, Alina thinks, gritting her teeth.

"I don't know anything! One of you is a heartrender, you know I'm telling the truth!" Alina snarled. 

Alina strained against the bonds on her wrist, tied behind her back. If only she could melt through them. She could distract them with a flash of blinding light, turn invisible, then flee into the night. Had they known she was Grisha and that was why they bound her this way? Or was it just a precaution?

A phone buzzed, cutting the interrogation short. A moment later, Grumpy spoke again. "The boss is here."

Alina heard the whirling grate of the warehouses large doors lifting. A brief wind tickled her face. Then a new set of footsteps, slow and precise, made their way closer. 

Damn it. How many of them where their now? Three inside, but could more be waiting outside? More heartrenders or maybe other Grisha? Infernis, Squallers, more heartrenders?

Alina swallowed hard, sniffing back the tears welling behind her eyes. Hope of making it out of this alive was dimming like a setting sun. 

"And what is this?" A voice asked. He had a pleasing voice; gentle, smooth, young, yet firm. The boss, she'd guess. Boss of what though?

"Nosey reporter from Kansas-"

"Ketterdam, I'm not Dorothy," Alina muttered. But Bratty would certainly make a perfect Scarescrow; no brains and all.

Bratty smacked her again; this time across the head, more chiding than malicious. Speak when spoken to, the message was clear. 

"Does she know anything?" The leader asked. 

"Don't know yet. But she said she's friends with Oretsev." So much for not knowing him. "We figure she has to know something about-"

Bratty stops talking. Footsteps come closer and Alina holds her breath as someone takes a delicate hold of her chin. She gets the impression they are studying her features intently. Long fingers brush aside the hair from her face, lightly tracing the scar on her forehead. 

A scar she had gotten when she was a child, when a group of bullies found out she was different from them. Witch, demon, freak... stones flying through the air... frightened shrieks and tears... and a little boy with onyx eyes, arms out stretched, shielding her from it all... 

The man inhales sharply. 

The heartrender knocked her out again. 

[whumpcollector]

Kai and 07: Flu Season

I return. The semester is over, my schedule is clear and I’m ready to fucking WRITE baby. This the next piece in Kai and 07′s story. I hope you all enjoy it.

CW: Hospitals, drugging in a medical context, dehumanization, slavery, institutionalized slavery, vomiting. (If I’ve missed anything let me know)

07 knelt on the bathroom floor, hands gripping the rim on the toilet bowl and sweat pouring down their face. They had spent the past few minutes vomiting out the contents of their stomach, bile burning their throat and mouth. They breathed heavily, eyes locked on the closed bathroom door. They had tried to keep quiet, but there was only so much they could do and a possibility that they may have woken master made them want to be sick again. 

A minute passed and there was no sound of footsteps, no slamming open of the bathroom door and grabbing of hair as master dragged them into the living room to punish them for daring to make enough noise to wake him. Daring to be sick enough to be an annoyance. 

They let out a sigh of relief, this was the second night in a row they had managed to not wake master, and they hoped that they wouldn’t need to press their luck for a third. Luck had never been on their side before.

With a low groan they dragged themselves off of the bathroom. Their legs felt like jelly and their head swam as they limped back to their room. A shiver ran down their spine and they hugged their stomach, wanting to rush back towards the warmth of their blankets while also wanting to avoid moving too fast and making any noise.

07 reached their room, walking in and closing the door softly behind them. They flopped onto the floor of the closet, their little safe haven, and wrapped the blankets around themselves. A quick glance at a digital clock that master had installed showed that it was close to 3 am. They groaned softly, another bad night of sleep. Maybe they could push their luck and change the alarm from 6 to 7. Master usually did not wake up until a few hours after them.

They reached for the clock, fingers hovering over the alarm setting button before pulling their hand back. It wasn’t worth the risk. Master had given them many gifts lately, if they were caught being lazy the consequences would be withering. They could tough it out, they had been through worse. 

Another shiver hit them and they pulled the blankets tighter around themselves. All of their body hurt, and their stomach was churning again. They hadn’t felt this bad in a long time. But they would be ok, when they woke up they would be ok. They desperately, fervently hoped that they would be ok.

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

The alarm on the digital clock beeped noisily as 07 was ripped from their sleep. They were not ok. They were as far from ok as one could be while still being alive. Their head was pounding, their throat was dry and scratchy, and the mere thought of moving made their limbs ache. 

The possibility that they were dying came across their mind. It didn’t seem unlikely at this point. A part of them were scared by the prospect, another felt like dying and letting this be over with wouldn’t be so bad. Another, smaller, almost utterly silent part wondered if maybe they could beg Master to take a day to recover. 

No, no, no never no. Master may have been understanding and kind, but his generosity wasn’t limitless, it couldn't be. Asking for anything after being given so much would be nothing short of an insult. They couldn’t afford to do that, they wouldn’t be able to take a punishment. They just wouldn’t. 

The alarm sounded again, the loud noise making 07’s head pound. They limply turned the clock off. A warm silence fell and 07’s eyes grew heavy. It would be so nice, so easy to just fall back asleep. 

NO! They forced their eyes open and dragged themselves upright, legs shaking and vision swimming as they did. They...they had to get up. Had to work. Had to stay on Master’s good side. They could do this, they could do this. 

Their steps towards the door were slow and shaky, each one feeling harder than the last. They pushed the door open slowly, stumbling forward slightly into the hallway. A draft blew through the house, sending another wave of shivers down 07’s spine. They warped their arms tightly around their body and made their way into the kitchen.

The kitchen sink still had dishes in it, remnants from last night. 07 looked at them hopelessly. They had left them there because they had wanted to go to bed a bit early, telling themselves they would clean them when they felt better the next day. Now the small stack of plates and cutlery looked like a mountain to climb. 

07 stood in the kitchen, trying to psych themselves up. It wouldn’t be too much work. Breakfast could be quick, some toast and eggs. Master Kai had been busy the past few days, a big order for an important client as he had put it. A smaller breakfast wouldn’t be something he would mind. Then they could do all the dishes in one batch. That was manageable. Alright, time to g-

The sound of the refrigerator opening snapped 07 out of their thoughts. Their eyes went wide as they saw Master Kai rummaging through the contents of the fridge. They quickly looked to the wall clock. 8:15?! Had they really just stood there like a useless piece of shit for more than an hour? Their gaze snapped back to Master, who was pulling out an old box of Chinese take-out. 

He glanced at them over his shoulder. “Morning, 07.” The greeting was quick, and Master was already leaving after grabbing a fork from the drawer. “Lotta work to do, I’ll be at the forge if you need me”.

07 watched gormlessly as Master turned the corner and disappeared. Their brain took a few seconds to process what was happening. They blinked once, then twice, and then felt their knees buckle as a wave of panic hit them.

They had just STOOD there! And did NOTHING! In front of their MASTER! They didn’t have breakfast ready and there were dishes in the sink and they had just stood around while their master was right there they didn’t even bow or respond to him an-

A fit of coughing knocked them out of their spiraling. The rough sound echoed through the empty house and 07 suddenly felt very cold and very alone. They took a moment to recover and pull themselves together. Well, Master was out at the forge and breakfast seemed to be...taken care of? That meant they could clean the dishes at least. And when they were done with that they could maybe take it slow, there wasn’t much to do and what housework was left was pretty light. 

07 took a deep breath and walked to the sink. Their arms ached and their vision was spotty, but they had done harder work under worse conditions. All they had to do was wash the dishes and maybe vacuum or clean the windows. Nothing they couldn’t handle. They could do this, they would be fine. 

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Kai brought his hammer down onto the hot blade in front of him, sending up a spray of sparks and finally molding it into the shape he wanted. He grabbed the blade with a pair of tongs and dunked into a nearby bucket of water, waving away the cloud of smoke that emanated from the cooling metal. 

Last one for the day, not bad progress he mused as he set about shutting the forge off and putting his tools back into place. It would be close but he’d probably finish up by the deadline. Hopefully he would at least. Even if he didn’t he was on good terms with the client, he could probably get away with a slight delay. 

It was getting dark. Winter days were short and forging in the cold of night wasn’t something Kai was interested in. He checked his watch...6:30 pm. It was a bit early for dinner, but he had skipped lunch. Oh well, 07 probably wouldn’t mind cooking a bit earlier than usual. 

Even if they did mind they probably wouldn’t say anything. The thought bothered Kai. He was still getting used to the whole...having a slave thing. All that power over someone else, it made him feel...weird. He didn’t like it. He was an idiot who shouldn’t be given responsibility over a cactus, much less a whole entire person. Still, it seemed like 07 was doing alright so maybe he wasn’t doing too badly.

Cold air rushed in after him as he entered his house. A loud noise was coming from the living room, sounded like 07 was vacuuming. Kai shot a quick glance towards the floor. Hm, it seemed like 07 vacuumed the whole house. Much as he still felt weird about having them around, Kai couldn’t deny they were a godsend. His place hadn’t been this well kept since, well since he moved in fifteen years ago.  

He should find a way to thank them for all their work. Maybe a gift of some sort? Some trinket to put in their room to add a bit of decoration. He didn’t know what their aesthetic tastes were though. They liked animals...maybe something zoo themed?

Maybe they wouldn’t mind hanging a sword on their wall. Everyone likes swords right?

Kai mused to himself as took off his jacket, hanging it over his arm and making his way into the living room. Sure enough 07 was busy vacuuming the floor, their movements slow and deliberate and their focus squarely on the task at hand. Kai stood back and watched them for a bit. They looked so intense, they always did. Like every small chore was the most important thing they would ever do in their life. It was endearing, at least it would be if Kai didn’t have…less than pleasant theories regarding where that attitude came from. 

As Kai watched them he noticed something was off. At a closer glance their movements were less deliberate and more…sluggish. They were hunched over, their legs were shaky, and their face was scrunched up like they were in pain. 

“Hey 07, you alright?” Kai asked, walking towards them. They didn’t respond, their gaze still on the vacuum like they were in a trance. “Hey! 07!”

07’s eyes shot open and they turned abruptly towards Kai. Their sudden movement caused them to drop the vacuum handle, and it hit the ground with a dull thud. They turned to look at the vacuum, then back to Kai, then back to the vacuum before their eyes rolled into their head and they crumpled to the floor. 

“SHIT!” Kai rushed to them, kneeling down next to their body and placing a hand on their forehead. Jesus fucking shit they were burning up. His mind raced, what should he do. Fuck, what should he do. Maybe...fuck it, he wasn’t taking any chances. He wrapped them in his jacket and picked them up. They were light...really fucking light. Whatever, more pressing matters at hand. 

He dashed to the front door, grabbing his keys off the hook on the wall. The driveway was clear, thankfully. He gently placed 07 down in the backseat of the car, strapping them down with the seat belts so they wouldn’t roll onto the floor. Kai jammed the key into the ignition, swearing heavily as the engine stalled due to the cold. Once the vehicle started up Kai all but barreled out of the driveway and began making a beeline for the local hospital.

The roads were empty and Kai drove as fast as wasn’t suicidal. Couldn’t get 07 the help they needed if he wrapped his car around a fucking tree right? Hahahahahahahaha.

Fuck.

Kai glanced at them in the rearview mirror. They were still unconscious, but it didn’t look like they had gotten any worse. Not to Kai at least. But then again what the fuck did he know? It was perfectly fucking possible that they were dying back there and he just couldn’t tell.

“Oh fucking...DAMN IT.”

He pressed harder on the gas, he could afford to go a bit faster. It was only a few more miles to the hospital anyways. The silence in the car was starting to feel suffocating, and Kai turned on the radio just to have some noise fill the air. The rest of the drive was uneventful, and Kai found himself pulling into the hospital parking lot sooner than he expected. Well, at least something was going well.

He unbuckled the still unconscious 07 and scooped them into his arms. The parking lot was almost empty, which meant the ER wouldn’t be too busy. Another lucky break. He entered the reception area, it was empty aside from the receptionist and one other person waiting. He walked up to the desk, clearing his throat to get the receptionists attention.

“Excuse me, I need help.”

The receptionist looked up from the file she was reading, startling slightly at the sight of 07 in Kai’s arms. “Oh, um, yes, how can I help.”

“They fell unconscious in my house. They have a fever. I think they’re sick.” 

Brilliant observation genius.

The receptionist nodded. “Ok, one moment”. She made a call on the intercom and two nurses showed up with a stretcher. Kai gently put 07 onto it and they were taken away. He wanted to follow but was told to wait for a doctor to get him. He didn’t argue, best leave this to the professionals.

“Excuse me sir, if you wouldn;t mind there is some information I need to get down.”

Kai turned. “Oh, yes of course.” He sat at the chair in front of the reception desk. 

The talk with the receptionist was a welcome distraction. It was all basic stuff, names, insurance, nothing that Kai couldn’t provide off the top of his head. He did get a strange look when he mentioned 07’s name, but the explanation of them being a slave seemed to clear that up. 

Now all he could do was wait. He sat in the reception area, mindlessly looking through his emails and social media. The almost incomprehensible stream of advertisements, news, and shitty memes proved an effective distraction until he was approached by a doctor.

“Excuse me, Mr. Kai is it?”

Kai looked up, pocketing his phone and standing. “Yes, that's me.” 

“Hello. My name is Doctor Graves. I have good news, your slave, 07 right?” Kai nodded. “Well all that's wrong is a case of the flu. It seems they passed out from exhaustion. They’re still unconscious but they’re stable. We have them on some medication and they should hopefully wake up soon.”

Kai let out a breath of relief. It was just the flou, they were fine. “Thanks doc. That's good to hear”.

The doctor nodded. “You know, generally speaking it's better to let slaves rest when they are sick instead of working them too hard. Even the common cold can be dangerous if left untreated.”

Kai raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms and frowning. “Hey! I didn’t do this to them”.

“I’m sure you didn't but…”

“Listen, I didn’t know they were sick. I’ve been busy and wasn’t paying too much attention. If I had known I would have told them to take it easy.”

The doctor didn’t seem convinced. “Be that as it may, I would recommend you pay more attention to them in the future. Negligence is the number one cause of death in slaves.”

Kai sighed, dropping his arms and slumping slightly. “Yeah doc, thanks for the advice. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

The doctor nodded again. “I’ll have someone let you know when they wake up.” 

Kai sat back down, placing his head in his hands. The doctor was right, he had really fucked up. How could he have just...not fucking notice? 07 had been suffering for what, three days? Forcing themselves to work while they were sick and he apparently didn’t care enough to even fucking notice.

God damn it. He knew he wasn’t cut out for this shit, he knew it. 07 would be better off with anyone else, someone fucking competent. Not his dumb ass. He let out another sigh, sliding his hands down his face and letting them rest in his lap. 

Well, regardless of his lack of ability 07 would be with him for at least four more months. He was sure after all this shit they’d be counting down the days they could leave for someone even slightly qualified to care for another human being. He didn’t blame them. He wouldn't want to be stuck with him either.

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

07 woke slowly, consciousness having to fight through a thick haze to reach them. The first thing they noticed was a strange beeping noise, followed by the stark whiteness of the walls. This...this wasn’t their room. Where were they, where was Master? What was going on?

Piece by piece their mind began to remember what had happened. They had finished the dishes and decided to...vacuum around the house. It took longer than they expected, the noise from the vacuum made their head pound and they had to take a few breaks to gather themselves. Then Master had come in from outside and then...then.

  Panic hit them like a bullet, they had passed out in front of Master. Was he angry at them? Is that why they were alone in some strange room? What...what was going to happen to them. Their breathing grew rapid and shallow. The strange beeping noise began to grow faster and more erratic. What was that? Was it bad?

They heard voices and saw people that they didn’t recognize entered the room. 07 tried to shrink away, they didn’t want to be with these people. They...they wanted Master. The strangers got closer, crowding around them. They wanted to get away, but they couldn’t. They were trapped. They were…

They were on a bed. 

A bed with walls that trapped them in and people were hovering over them, grabbing at their arms and chest. Panic gave way to desperation, and they began to struggle. They tried to flail, to get their arms away from the strangers’ grip. Despite their best efforts they couldn’t get away. 

“N-no…” they began to beg. “Please...no. Please...don’t.” 

The strangers wouldn’t let them go. They heard voices, words coming from their mouths but they couldn’t tell what they were. The fog of fear muddled everything around them. 

“Please...please. Let me go. Please”. 

They screwed their eyes shut, not wanting to see what the strangers might do. A sickening sense of familiarity hit them. It was going to happen again. It was going to happen again and they didn’t want it to happen again. They didn’t want to...to…

Their arms were let go and they felt a hand rest gently on their shoulder. They tensed, waiting for the grip to turn harsh or for it to start tearing at their shirt. Instead nothing happened. 07 opened their eyes slowly and turned to see...Master Kai?

Master Kai!

He gave a small smile. “Hey there 07, how are you holding up?”

They didn’t know what to say. Their mind was still hazy and the sudden shift from panic to relief had given them whiplash. But still, their master was talking to them and they needed to say something.

“I...I...good?”

They berated themselves internally. What a clumsy and stupid response. But Master Kai didn’t seem to mind. He never seemed to mind when they were stupid.

“That's good, that's good.” He let out a small chuckle. “You gave me quite a scare you know?” 

“Excuse me Mr. Kai? I would like to speak to you about a few things before we discharge your slave.”

“Oh. Alright.”

The two men began to talk and 07 laid back, closing their eyes and drowning out what was being said. It was not the place of a slave to eavesdrop or insert themselves into their master’s business. Now that the panic had worn off they found themselves feeling rather tired. They still didn’t feel great, and getting to rest a bit longer would be nice. But they had to wait, they...needed Master’s permission first. 

“Mmm...may...mmmm…”

Their attempt at a question limply railed off into soft mumbling. Before they could try again they felt Master squeeze their shoulder.

“Just rest 07. I’ll wake you up when we need to head home.”

07 was asleep before he finished his sentence.

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

Kai pulled into the driveway with a relieved sigh. It was nice to be back home, Kai had never liked hospitals. He shut off his car and stepped out, walking to the backseat and pulling the still asleep 07 into his arms. He didn’t have the heart to wake them up when they had been discharged. 

He entered his house and walked into the living room, only to be met by the lord wiring of the vacuum cleaner. Damn, that thing had been running for...shit 7 hours? Well there goes the electricity bill. The loud noise also had the unwelcome side effect of waking 07. They stirred in his arms, blinking blearily and looking around the room.

“Aw, piss.” Kai walked over to the vacuum, shifting 07 around slightly so he could turn the damn thing off. “Shut it will ya?”

“M...Master Kai?” Their voice was rough. 

“Oh, hey 07.” Kai looked down to see 07 looking at him, seemingly still disoriented. “We’re back home, hold on, I'll get you to b-your room.”

07 simply nodded, closing their eyes again and starting to nod off. God they really were tired weren’t they. That or whatever the hospital had given them was hitting them hard. Either way they’d probably be out for another day. Maybe longer. Oh well, they had earned the rest.

Kai set 07 down in their closet...room...thing. This whole situation was still weird to him. He wanted to talk to them about maybe moving to an air mattress or futon at some point but that would have to come later. One thing at a time and all that.

He tucked 07 beneath the blankets, making sure they were wrapped up tightly. The blankets were thick, but it was still a cold night and that damn draft was still going on. Fuck! He needed to get that fixed. Ugh, tomorrow he was tracking down whatever hole in the wall was causing that draft and patching it with extreme prejudice. 

He shook his head slightly and left the room, walking to a storage closet and pulling out an old space heater. He put the heater down in 07’s room, plugging it in and turning it to a warm but not sweltering temperature. There, now 07 should be comfortable. 

Kai stood in the room and watched 07 for a few minutes, watching for anything that might be cause for concern. Aside from a few sniffles 07 stayed sound asleep and Kai decided he was just being paranoid now. It wasn’t anything serious, just a case of the flu. Bed rest and fluids, nothing more complicated. The doctor recommended they be given at least two days to recover, and he intended to make sure they took that time to rest.

Guilt hit him again. He shouldn’t have ever let it get this bad. He needed to be more attentive, be more aware. He needed to be better. For their sake. He wasn’t going to fail someone else again. 

At least, no more than he already had.

Tags: @haro-whumps @cupcakes-and-pain

[freddiesaysalright]

The Most Dramatic Season Ever - Night 1

Summary: It’s your time now! You are ABC’s new Bachelorette and this is your journey! All these men (including our fav BoRhap boys and then some) are competing for your heart! Will you find love? Will you get engaged at the end? Or will you end up heartbroken? Find out, on the most dramatic season ever!

Word Count: 4.5k

Tag List: @psychosupernatural​ @someone-get-a-medic​ @bensrhapsody​ @deakyclicks​ @crazylittlethingcalledobsession​ @minigranger​ @crazyweirdocalledfriday​ @anincurablefangirl​ @assembledherethevolunteers​ @rose-writes-prose​ @queenlover05​ If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: So, the first chapter of my new Bachelorette fic! I hope you guys like it. Please, please, PLEASE let me know your interest in this fic because I’d like to continue it but if y’all aren’t feeling it, I don’t have to continue it. Hmu in the replies, my chat, or my ask box, I am all ears!

Warning(s): Some discussions of racism.

Night 1 here we go!!!

Your gown felt heavier than it really was as you stood in the cool Los Angeles night air. The low lights gleamed off the recently doused driveway of the famous Bachelor mansion and you shivered. You took a deep breath. Then, Chris Harrison, the host of the franchise walked up to you and placed a paternal hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N,” he said kindly, and you smiled at him. “Are you ready to start your journey as the Bachelorette?”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. You still couldn’t believe this was happening to you. You were the Bachelorette. A group of men were on their way to you. One of them could possibly be the love of your life. You nodded. 

“I am,” you said excitedly. “I’m ready to find my husband.”

Chris gave your arm a squeeze. “Alright. The first limo is on the way. Let your love story begin.”

He walked away and your stomach dropped. Your eyes found the limo as it pulled up and another twinge of anticipation went through you. This was it. The start of everything that could be. Your future husband - you were sure - was about to step out of that limo.

In the first limo there were five men. They started off anxious and a bit stiff, but one in particular had them all laughing pretty quickly. He had a wide smile and a mess of auburn hair. Already, he was the most popular guy in the car.

“Oh, we’re pulling up!” he said.

Everyone pressed toward the window to get a glimpse of you. His heart swelled at the sight. There you stood in a stunning silver gown and a smile on your gorgeous lips. He was falling already and he hadn’t even met you yet. Nervous as he was when the producers told him he was going first, now he was thrilled. He got to meet you before anyone else. He just hoped he made a good first impression.

The limo came to a slow stop in front of you. The anticipation was killing you at this point. You wrung your hands together as the door was opened and the first man stepped out. You watched anxiously as he appeared outside the car and then you saw him. 

The second you met his eyes, all nerves melted away. He grinned widely at you and you couldn’t help but smile right back. You fought back an urge to reach out to him - that’s how eager you were for him to step closer.

“Wow,” he sighed as he began to walk to you. “Wow, you’re beautiful.”

“Thank you!” you replied sweetly. “You’re not so bad yourself, handsome.”

He chuckled. Now you saw that in his hand he carried a bottle of champagne. Your brow furrowed.

“My name is Joe,” he said.

“Nice to meet you, Joe,” you returned. “What’ve you got there?”

He lifted it to about chest-level and showed you the label.

“Champagne,” he said. “Because every day I spend getting to know you is a celebration.”

You giggled. “I like that attitude, for sure. Are we going to open it now?”

“Definitely!” he replied.

He opened the bottle with a loud POP and you cheered. He didn’t bring glasses, so you each took a sip straight from the bottle. It was so fun and relaxed. He held your gaze another moment. Then he sighed and hugged you. You hummed and held him close.

“I can’t wait to talk to you more,” he said. He pulled back and indicated the bottle. “And drink some more of this.”

You looked at his face, that feeling of familiarity washing over you again.

“Yeah, me too,” you said.

He gave your hand one last squeeze before departing into the mansion. You released a breath you hadn’t realized you had been holding. 

“Wow,” you said. “He’s so sweet.”

A few more men emerged from the limo and met you, but Joe still stuck out. It wasn’t what he said or did, necessarily, it was just how you felt when you looked at him. Like you had known him for years instead of mere minutes.

The next limo rolled up and you found yourself more excited than before. The first man to step out was like the others. The second one, though...he was so attractive you nearly fell over. He was broad but not intimidating. His face was boyish and sweet, but he had the loveliest green eyes you had ever seen. His blonde hair was carefully styled. Your heart raced when he smiled at you as he walked over.

“Hi,” he said with a deep British accent. “I’m Ben.”

“H-hello!” you stammered, opening your arms for a hug. “It’s nice to meet you!”

He squeezed you tight and you felt his body, which nearly made you gasp. Then he pulled back and looked you over. 

“God, you’re stunning,” he sighed. “I’m so happy to be here with you.”

You felt a bit of a shyness from him that was incredibly endearing.

“I’m happy you came,” you returned. 

“I just want to say that I’m here for a real shot at love,” he said. “I’m excited for this opportunity with you and I just want to learn everything I can about you.”

With each word, your smile grew. 

“Thank you, Ben,” you said. “I’m looking forward to this journey too, and I hope to see more of you.”

He beamed. “Great! I’ll see you inside, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you assured him with a nod.

You watched him go into the mansion with a heavy sigh. You would happily have stood there and spoken with him all night if you could. But, there were other men to meet.

Shortly after Ben, came another British man. He was handsome in a sort of quirky way, with a slim nose and a sharp, angular jaw. His smile was bright and infectious.

“Hello,” he greeted as he walked up and took your hand, shaking it politely. “I’m Taron.”

“Taron?” you repeated. “I’ve never heard that name before.”

“It’s Welsh,” he told you. 

“I see,” you said.

When he spoke, he was animated and friendly. His warmth drew you in. Just holding his hand made you wonder what it would be like to be in his arms instead. You already felt incredibly safe around him.

“We’ll talk more inside?” he asked.

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He too, disappeared into the mansion. There were some clear front-runners already and you hadn’t even met all the men. The next limo pulled up and you waited for the next one.

This man was certainly unique. His deep eyes struck you with their size and the way they captivated you. When he smiled at you, you heard an awkward laugh and you couldn’t help but join in. His mop of black curls atop his head framed his face in such an adorable way.

“Hi there!” you said as he approached you.

“Hello,” he replied. “I’m Rami.”

“Rami?” you asked, to clarify.

He nodded. “I had a whole speech prepared but now that I’m looking at you, I’ve forgotten it.”

You chuckled. “That’s alright. I prefer you to be real and honest with me.”

“Well, then you already know that I’m a bit bumbling,” he joked.

You laughed fully. “I like it. I can already say I like you, Rami.”

“Awesome, I like you too,” he returned. “Just so you know, I’ll always be real with you. Even if it’s uncomfortable.”

“That’s perfect,” you said. “That’s what I want in a partner.”

“I have more I want to talk to you about already,” he said. “But I guess it’ll have to wait.”

“Just a little longer,” you said.

He hesitated a moment before leaning forward to whisper in your ear. It was in a language you didn’t understand, but his tone completely enthralled you. You knew it was complimentary. 

“What does that mean?” you asked when he finished.

“Find me later to find out,” he returned.

You smirked. So he did have some smoothness to him, after all.

“I will,” you promised.

He left. 

The next man to make an impression on you was yet another Englishman. He was tall, with a slender build. His chocolate brown hair made his blue eyes quite startling to you. His smile was a bit crooked, but in a charming sort of way. He straightened his tie as he approached you with his long stride.

“Hello,” he said warmly.

“Hi, how are you?” you replied.

“Quite swept off my feet, I must say,” he said, taking your hands. “You are beautiful. I’m Gwilym.”

“How unusual!” you said. “Where’s it from?”

“Wales,” he told you.

“I have a lot to learn about Wales,” you joked.

He didn’t ask about your remark, but he looked deeply into your eyes.

“I have a lot to learn about you, cariad,” he said.

“Cariad?”

He chuckled. “Also Welsh. Used for someone you love.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. “Thank you.”

He kissed your cheek and when his stubble brushed your skin, it sent a thrilling shiver down your spine. 

“See you inside?” he asked.

“See you inside,” you returned.

He also went into the mansion, which was quickly becoming rather crowded. There were a few more gimmicks you saw come out of the limo, some guys came in costumes, but the ones that really struck you as serious contenders were Joe, Ben, Taron, Rami, Gwilym, and two more from the last limo, Allen and Richard.

Inside, all the men were greeting one another. Joe was talking to Rami, since they knew each other from college. The other guys were all sort of milling about as they waited for you, sipping on the drinks in their hands. Nerves hung around everyone as they watched the doorway for your form. 

You walked carefully up the driveway and into the mansion, heart nearly pounding out of your chest. It appeared you had a wonderful group of men in front of you. The journey was going to be fun, but could end up becoming extremely difficult. But as you pictured the faces of each of them as you met them - just as hopeful, just as anxious, just as willing to risk everything as you were - you couldn’t help but smile again. You walked in.

When you came into the living room you were met with cheers and applause as the men got excited. You beamed at them and offered a cheeky curtsey. You found a few pairs of eyes as you looked around.

“Thank you all so much for being here,” you said. “I can’t wait to get to know each of you throughout this experience and I just…” you trailed off. “I know my husband is in this room. I can feel it. I have faith in this. I have faith in all of you.”

One of them handed you a glass of wine, which you raised to toast.

“To finding love!” you cried.

“To finding love!” the echoed.

You all met glasses and took a sip. As soon as the toast was over, Lee, a guy who had played guitar for you as his greeting, tapped your shoulder.

“Can I steal you away?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure!” you replied.

He took your hand and led you away from the rest of the men, who all looked disappointed and a little annoyed.

“Not much we can do,” Gwilym said. “Someone had to steal her first.”

A murmur of resigned agreement went through the crowd. After a couple minutes, Rami got up from the couch. He looked at Joe.

“I think it’s time someone stole her second,” he said.

Joe smirked and clapped hands with Rami. “Good luck, buddy.”

Rami followed the path you and Lee had taken outside and to the fireplace. You perched on the stone step, soaking in the warmth. You thought Lee was perfectly nice, but you found your mind drifting to some of the other men inside.

As if summoned by the thought of him, Rami appeared around the corner.

“Hey,” he said, cutting Lee off mid-sentence. “Can I steal you?”

“Sure,” you said. You patted Lee’s knee. “Thanks for talking with me.”

You stood up, gave Lee a quick hug, and he stalked off as you grabbed Rami’s hand. Rami led you over to the couch by the pool. You took a seat next to him and scooted closer.

“How are you doing?” he asked. 

“I’m a little overwhelmed, honestly,” you replied. “Tell me what you whispered in my ear. What language was it?”

“Arabic,” he said with a soft chuckle. “My parents are Egyptian. I said ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.’”

You giggled. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, are you first generation?” you asked.

“Yeah, my parents and big sister came over from Cairo, but my brother and I were born here in Los Angeles actually,” he explained. 

“Really?!” you teased. “So you didn’t have to go very far to be here, huh?”

“Not at all,” he laughed. “I mean, my family doesn’t have a mansion like this one or anything like that, but yeah, same town.”

“That’s really cool,” you told him. “Are your parents still together?”

“They are,” he said. “I look up to them a lot when it comes to what I want for my own life. That level of commitment is important to me.”

“Me too,” you agreed.

Inside, Lee returned to the rest of the men in a bit of a huff. He sat down on the couch next to Gwilym, irritability coming off of him in waves.

“Alright?” Gwilym asked.

“Yeah, just Diversity Rose over there interrupted my time with her,” Lee replied bitterly.

Gwilym blinked. Several of the men turned their heads at the comment.

“Diversity Rose?” he questioned.

“Y’know, he’s only gonna get a rose because he’s a minority,” Lee said with a shrug.

The room became uncomfortably quiet. All eyes were flickering between Lee and the remaining men of color in the room - Kenny, Eric, Mike, and John.

“Dude,” said the man on the other side of Lee, named Wells. “C’mon.”

“What?” Lee said defensively. “It’s just the facts.”

“No,” replied Wells. “You’re being racist.”

“Yeah, it’s all just starting out,” Joe agreed. “They could be having a great connection right now, you don’t know. You’re just mad he interrupted you and this is how you’re choosing to handle it.”

“Honestly, being interrupted is part of this,” Gwilym chimed in. “You can’t call someone a ‘Diversity Rose’ just because you’re upset.”

“That’s not what I -”

“Dude, just stop,” Mike interrupted. “You said something sh***y, you could just apologize.”

“I’m not apologizing, I’m not wrong,” Lee said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Several of the men just shook their heads at Lee’s stubbornness, and many of them were still shocked by the comment in the first place. Backs were turned on him as he sat on the couch.

Meanwhile, you were now deep in conversation with a man named Jared. He was handsome and sweet, and genuinely interesting to talk to. Rami had headed back toward the house, where the tension hanging in the room nearly smothered him. He felt almost everyone looking at him. He went to Joe and sat down beside his friend.

“What happened?” he whispered.

“You don’t even want to know,” Joe answered.

A couple minutes into your conversation with Jared, Ben came up and asked for you. Eager to speak to him some more, you said a quick goodbye to Jared and followed Ben back to the fireplace. He seemed a bit grave now. Your brow furrowed.

“You okay?” you asked. “You seemed so hopeful earlier and now I feel like you’re upset.”

“Yeah, it’s just something one of the guys said,” he told you.

You frowned. Drama, already? It was only night one. You wondered what someone could have possibly said to Ben, who seemed like such an angel of a person.

“Who said something to you?” you asked.

“It wasn’t something said to me in particular, but it was definitely disturbing,” he went on.

Your heart sunk.

“What was it?”

“Lee,” Ben said. “He called Rami a ‘Diversity Rose.’”

You immediately just saw red. A flash of anger surged through you and you took a deep breath to calm yourself.

“He said what?”

Ben explained the whole scenario. What Lee had said and that the other men had confronted him, but he refused to acknowledge that he was wrong. You hated to spend this time with Ben talking about someone else, but this was something you needed to know. If that was the kind of man Lee was then you didn’t want him here.

“Thanks for telling me, Ben,” you said levelly, though inside you were about ready to scream. This had been such a great night so far and now you had to deal with this. “Could you give me a minute?”

“Sure,” he agreed.

He gave your hand a squeeze before heading back inside. You took another deep, although shaky breath. You knew Lee was sort of country from the way he talked and that he was from outside of Nashville. But this was a bit much. True, he had not used a slur or said something overtly offensive, but to lash out with that comment because Rami did what he was supposed to do in this experience was completely out of order. You needed to fix this. You snatched your glass of wine from the table, downed it, and then marched toward the house.

All the men turned eyes on you as you came through the door. A few smiled, but they quickly faltered at the dark expression on your face. You scanned the room for Lee and found him at the end of the couch, sipping his whiskey as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Lee, can we chat for a second?” you asked.

“Sure,” he said, getting to his feet and starting toward you.

“No, not in private,” you snapped. “This is something everybody should hear.”

His brow furrowed in confusion and he cocked his head to the side. “Everything okay?”

“No, everything is not okay!” you cried. “Did you or did you not refer to Rami as a ‘Diversity Rose’?”

His eyes went wide. “Wha - who told you that?!”

“It doesn’t matter who told me, what matters is if you said it!” you shot back. “Did you?!”

He looked down at the floor like a child being scolded by his mother. He didn’t speak.

“So you did,” you gathered. “Lee, that was f***ed up.”

He still didn’t answer you.

“The person I marry has to be open and loving,” you said. “Every man here who gets a rose, gets one because I see potential in him to be my husband. And I no longer see that potential in you. Get out of the mansion.”

“Y/N, I -”

“Don’t!” you cried. “I won’t tolerate bigotry of any kind. Go home.”

He sighed heavily, looked at you one last time, and walked out the door with his metaphorical tail between his legs. You watched him go, satisfied that he was gone, but annoyed that this had happened at all.

“Anyone else have a problem?” you asked, looking around the room. No one spoke. “Good. Now, let’s try and salvage what was a really pleasant evening.”

You swept out of the room. Joe, bottle of champagne still in tow, followed you out. 

“Hey!” he called as you made your way to the other side of the pool. “Y/N!”

You turned to face him and forced a smile.

“Hey,” you replied. 

Without warning, he pulled you into his arms. Your buried your face in his chest and wrapped your arms around his waist. He rested his chin atop your head. You stood there with him in silence for a moment. You noticed that he smelled nice. His heartbeat was steady and strong. You squeezed him a bit.

“Careful, I might fart,” he warned.

You burst out laughing and looked up at him, so grateful for his presence and his energy. He grinned at you and held up the champagne.

“Come on, we’ve got to finish this,” he said.

You followed him over to another couch and he offered you the bottle. You took a swig and then looked at him.

“Tell me about yourself,” you said.

“Well, I’m from New York,” he told you. “I run a restaurant there with my family.”

“Let me guess,” you said. “Italian?”

He beamed. “Yes, ma’am. Great food, great people.”

“That sounds lovely,” you told him.

You were grateful he didn’t talk about what just happened with Lee. He was just talking to you and letting you know him. Everything he said was funny and sweet. You told yourself to remember everything about him. Joe was a person you never wanted to forget.

“My dad was the best at it, though,” he said, referring to his favorite dish from the restaurant, which he had described to you. “No one does it like he did.”

“He did?” you asked. “Past tense?”

He swallowed, and looked down at his hands for a fleeting moment before meeting your eyes again. He took your hand.

“Yeah,” he said stiffly. “He passed away last year.”

“Oh, Joe, I’m so sorry,” you said earnestly. “I can’t even imagine.”

“It’s been kind of a lonely year,” he choked out. “We were really close.”

“Come here,” you said, and you pulled him close to you.

Once again, you simply held each other. You knew now, without a doubt that Joe was your strongest connection so far. You felt something with him that you had not felt with anyone in a long time, even on the previous season of The Bachelor. He was special.

You broke apart and he smiled at you again.

“Thanks for opening up to me,” you said. “I really appreciate it.”

“Thanks for being such a sweetheart,” he replied. 

You held each other’s gaze for another moment. Then, before either of you really noticed, you were leaning in. He met you halfway, and claimed your lips in a soft kiss. It was rather chaste at first, before deepening into more. When you met there in the middle, it was all fireworks inside your heart. Bursting with joy. Just as you were.

The rest of the evening went well. The men were polite, charming, funny, and so, so handsome. You felt like the luckiest girl in the world to be getting to know them. As things were winding down, Chris Harrison placed the First Impression Rose on the coffee table in front of the men. They all eyed it hungrily. 

You were talking with Gwilym when a producer told you that the rose was waiting. You really liked Gwilym, but you knew who the First Impression Rose was going to. You finished up your conversation and headed inside.

When you returned, there were fewer men there, as they had sort of spread out after the Lee situation. You didn’t mind.

“Hi, gentlemen,” you said, picking the rose up off the plate. “Anyone seen Joe?”

“He’s out on the balcony with Rami,” Ben told you.

“Thanks,” you said, and headed that way.

The guys all looked at each other and sighed.

“Guess we know who’s getting that rose,” Taron said.

You went out to the balcony and found Joe and Rami there. You greeted them warmly. 

“Joe, can I borrow you for a second?” you asked.

“Absolutely,” he told you.

He followed you back to where you talked before. You took a seat beside him on the couch and smiled.

“Joe,” you said. “I want to thank you for comforting me after the drama and reminding me of the reasons I started this journey. You opened up to me, made me laugh, and you’re a pretty great kisser too.”

You laughed together a moment and he took your hand.

“You made a wonderful impression on me,” you said. “So, Joe...will you accept this rose?”

“Of course I will,” he replied.

“Yay!” you said softly, and then leaned forward to place it on his jacket.

When it was firmly pinned, he cupped your face in his hands and kissed you again. This one was passionate and adoring. You nearly moaned into his mouth. His lips were so soft and he was so tender with you, it was like a dream. You sighed when he pulled away.

“I like you, Y/N,” he said.

“I like you too,” you replied.

Your cheeks hurt from all the smiling.

Before too much longer, it was time for the rose ceremony. Chris Harrison announced it to the men and the producers told you. You followed them out to let them know your decisions. You were happy that Joe, at least, could relax.

The men lined up and you stood before them. You inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, knowing you were about to hurt some feelings. Rose ceremonies were never easy, and you understood how each of them felt because you had been in their position before.

“Thank you to all of you for being so brave and letting me get to know you,” you began. “Unfortunately, this is the hard part, where I have to say goodbye. Please know I’m just following my heart, and I wish all of you the best of luck in your own journeys to find love.”

You picked up the first rose. The air thickened in the room.

“Rami,” you said.

He released a breath and came over to you.

“Rami, will you accept this rose?” you asked.

“I will,” he replied, and you pinned it on him.

You picked up the second rose, eyes searching for the name you were about to say.

“Ben,” you said.

“Yes,” he whispered and jogged a little to reach you sooner.

“Ben, will you accept this rose?”

“Always.”

You picked up the next one.

“Allen,” you said.

“Thank God,” he sighed in his adorable Irish accent.

You giggled. “Allen, will you accept this rose?”

He did. You continued to call names. Taron, Richard, Eric, Kenny, Mike, Jared, Wells, John, and a few other guys you liked - Jordan, John Paul, and Luke. Finally it was down to Gwilym and four other men.

“Gentlemen, Y/N,” said Chris Harrison as he stepped out. “This is the final rose tonight.”

You locked eyes with Gwiylm.

“Gwilym,” you said. 

He nearly double over with relief. 

“Thank goodness,” he said as he walked up.

“Gwilym, will you accept this rose?” 

“Every time,” he replied. “Thank you.”

He re-joined the men as you looked at them.

“Guys, I’m sorry,” Chris said. “If you did not receive a rose, take a moment, say your goodbyes.”

The four men clapped their neighbors on the back before they approached you one by one. They hugged you and said soft goodbyes before leaving the mansion. The last one wished you luck, which you appreciated. You hated to do this part, but it was all part of the journey. You were excited about the group in front of you now. These were the men that really had your attention. You all gathered together for another champagne toast.

“Here’s to moving forward and learning everything we can about each other,” you said. “To love!”

“To love!” they repeated as glasses clinked all around you.

It was going to be a very good eight weeks.

[anotherdarkiboi]

Warnings: blood, eye horror, medical themes, bandages, blindfold, mild cursing, mild nudity, innuendo and sexual references, references to murder.

Dr. Iplier changed out of his mildly bloody medical scrub shirt and formerly-white lab coat, discarding them onto the floor. His mind has been wandering lately. One of his regular patients seemed to occupy himself in his brain like a cancerous tumor or Taenia solium larvae might. He was frequently distracted and excitable, getting flustered uncharacteristically easily. That and the overall warmth he felt coursing through his body and the achey tightness in his chest concerned him to no end.

What's worse was that the doctor couldn't diagnose exactly what sickness he had. Dr. Iplier knew they could be signs of a heart attack or about a hundred other maladies that could possibly kill him, but he didn't dare imagine the possibility that he was the one who was dying, as painfully ironic that would be.

He wanted to get rid of it, and soon. It was impeding on his work and the credibility of his profession, to the dismay of his business partner, fellow doctor, and best friend, Schneep. Dr. Iplier accidentally dropped a scalpel into Peter during his surgery and caused a bloody mess (literally) because of it. Poor Peter didn't make it. But then again, that's what you got when you ran a medical practice with Henrik von Schneeplestein (the "Doctor" part was debatable): Peter never stood a chance.

But as time progressed, Dr. Iplier found that whatever he had made him feel euphoric. Maybe the disease or parasite released dopamine? He suspected that it had something to do with that patient of his. Maybe they were also the Patient Zero for his ailment? Or were they somehow causing these symptoms through mind control?

The doctor was familiar with the paranormal through his experiences with the infamous Darkiplier, so it wouldn't be too farfetched. He had his suspicions about his patient, but knew that it wasn't really professional of him to comment. Either way, they were forced to interact on a daily basis and Dr. Iplier didn't feel like losing his most loyal customer, so he said nothing of it and ignored the rapid beating of his heart (tachycardia?).

Soon the doctor found himself thinking about his "favorite" patient. Again. Of course. His thoughts always drifted to that quiet, contemplative man. The disease- Illness? Parasite? Whatever it was, the symptoms were getting worse.

Dr. Iplier sighed, picking up his bloody scrubs from the floor. He didn't want to further lower the reputation of his business by leaving his bedroom and private clinic messy.

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

The Host opened the door to Dr. Iplier's bedroom and makeshift clinic with a faint creek. He considered knocking first, but what he needed to ask the doctor was urgent. Well, maybe not urgent per se, but he had been thinking about it for a while now and had finally come to the conclusion that today was the day he would ask their resident doctor out.

What the Host didn't expect was to find was said doctor shirtless. The Host can't see, not in the physical sense anyway, but he has the ability to narrate his surroundings to get a vague sense of what's going on. So when his internal monologue started describing in excruciating detail exactly how lean Dr. Iplier's exposed upper body looked like and the faintest hint of his V-line peaking over the elastic of his thin blue scrub pants, the Host became overwhelmed. Of course, the Host doesn't say this aloud: for once, his narrations remained in his head in a loud, frantic monotone. The Host couldn't hear himself think, let alone focus from the mental barrage of stimuli. Shit.

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

Dr. Iplier tosses the bloody clothes into the hamper. He turns around to find the Host, propping himself up by the doorway looking like he was on the verge of collapse.

"Oh! Uh, you're here awfully early... Are you alright?"

"The Host, um, I- fuck."

The doctor's eyes widen in concern. Blood streaked down the Host's bandages like tears. It was rare to see him shocked into using first person and it was usually was damaging to his physical health. And this was the first time Dr. Iplier ever heard the Host stutter.

The Host makes an attempt to step into the room and falters. Dr. Iplier is quickly by the Host's side, holding the trenchcoated man up by the waist to guide him to the bed (which served as both a hospital cot and the doctor's actual bed). The Host sits on the edge while the doctor hangs his stethoscope around his neck, putting on his lab coat and head mirror out of habit: all without noticing that he still wasn't wearing a shirt.

The Host can't help but compare the mental image to the intro of a low-budget porno. He covers his head in his hands and groans in exasperation. Why did Dr. Iplier have to be at the pinnacle of health?

The doctor feels the Host's forehead with gentle tenderness, his cool hand resting against warm skin. He tilts the Host's head up from under his chin, examining how much blood his patient lost. The Host can feel Dr. Iplier's intense stare on him as he attempts to figure out what's wrong. He hopes that the doctor won't notice his face heating up.

The physical contact felt intimate, even though it was practically ritual at this point with the amount of times the Host visits. The Host mentally compares it to heavy petting leading up to eventual smut. He internally screams.

The Host's narrations drift to Dr. Iplier's inner monologue as the doctor checks his vitals. It's something that the Host tries to avoid as it's an invasion of privacy, but it wasn't something he was able to control in his current state. Anything was better than whatever his brain was conjuring right now.

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

Usually he's calm under pressure, but the doctor can't explain is why he feels irrational, seething anger for whatever caused the Host's predicament. Dark maybe? Or Wilford? Probably someone with a great deal of power for the Host to essentially overload.

The doctor rarely gets angry: Annoyed? All the time. Cranky? Every morning before the caffeine hits. But Dr. Iplier felt, for the first time, homicidal. How dare they? The Host's health is delicate to say the least: the other egos know that. Yet Dr. Iplier is well aware that the blindfolded man can take care of himself. Then why does he feel so protective of him?

He knew, in great detail, at least 50 different ways to kill a person and had the means to do it. Injecting air into the bloodstream and facilitating an air embolism, constricting the windpipe and suffocating them while they sleep, utilizing any number of lethal drugs he had on hand: the list went on. If anyone ever hurt the Host again, he'd have to...

He takes a deep breath. The Host needs a doctor now, not an emotional wreck. The doctor checks off his mental checklist and goes through the familiar motions of proper medical procedure for his patient. It was his job to help people, and he'd be damned if he did just the opposite: at least on purpose (accidents happen).

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

For some reason, imagining Dr. Iplier attempting to murder the infamous Dark and Wilford duo calms the Host down. The Host had an especially violent streak during his Author days, so he understood the feeling well. But the fact that the doctor would feel so passionately about him was... endearing. Maybe this could still work...

The doctor grabs his glasses from his desk and pushes them up the bridge of his nose. They were rectangular ones reminiscent of Mark's old trademark, which the Host imagined made Dr. Iplier look more distinguished and erudite. He reads off his clipboard with concern.

"Elevated heart rate, irregular breathing, flushed but no fever, dilated pupils... Host, do you know what -or who- caused this?" The Host notices how Dr. Iplier clenches his jaw at "who". How cute.

You. "That doesn't matter, Doctor. I can assure you, I'm fine. I've been experiencing these 'symptoms' for a while now. I know they're not fatal." He casually fails to mention the overload he just had.

"And you didn't bother to tell me? We see each other every day!" Dr. Iplier gasps with a look of genuine horror on his face. "Have you... have you been seeing other doctors?!"

The Host stifles a laugh. "Of course not. Dr. Schneeplestein may be 'zhe good doctah', but you are the best one."

"Oh, I know," Dr. Iplier asserts, the flirtatious remark flying over his large ego. "Trust me, you wouldn't believe how many lawsuits we get every week. It's a wonder how our business stays afloat."

Something that the Host said triggers something in the doctor's mind. He checks his clipboard again. The Host had been experiencing this for a while now, minus the almost collapsing part. And so had he. It can't be... can it? The symptoms were the same as his own.

"I'm sorry, but I think we're both dying."

"...We?"

Dr. Iplier sets down his clipboard and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He never liked being the bearer of bad news, but the burden seemed to be part of his job.

"I'm afraid we both have the same illness- same symptoms and everything. Yours is probably later-staged, which would explain the fainting spell. We should warn Dark and the others to quarantine the area or something."

The Host starts laughing, loud and unabashedly. Dr. Iplier looks on in confusion and finds himself unable to speak. This was the first time he saw the Host laugh this much. Creepy sadistic grins? Sure. A wry smile after making a snide remark? Rare, but certainly rewarding. This crazed fit of giggling however? Unheard of until now. The doctor liked seeing the Host happy, even if it was due to the thought of their own deaths. Maybe it was a coping mechanism. He wonders how much time he had left to hear it again.

The Host slowly calms down, wiping the blood dripping down his face as if he was wiping away tears of laughter. It doesn't have the same effect: Dr. Iplier grimaces at the red smear on the back of his patient's hand.

"I assure you, those measures will not be necessary. Tell me Doctor, when do these 'symptoms', as you call them, tend to occur?"

"All the time since a few weeks ago, but it gets worse when you're around: no offense. Is it that Hanahaki disease Yandereiplier was telling me about?"

The Host resists the urge to facepalm. For someone who supposedly went to medical school, Dr. Iplier was surprisingly dumb. He completely went against the stereotype of glasses-wearers being the most intelligent.

"No. What you- we have is not an illness nor disease, at least not in the traditional sense."

"You know what it is then? Is there a cure?" Dr. Iplier replies in all seriousness.

The Host sighs. He still didn't get it. "Doctor, are you familiar with the concept of love?"

"Obviously", Dr. Iplier retorts, his ego kicking in again. The Host sincerely doubts it. "There are tons of books on the subject and Wil talks about it all the time. It's a combination of dopamine, serotonin, and adrenaline."

"In scientific terms, yes. And the physical indications?"

Dr. Iplier thinks for a moment, going down the list. It clicks.

"Oh my god, I love you."

A pause. The doctor starts to realize what he blurted out loud. He covers his face in his hands, not daring to make eye contact (or whatever was closest to that) with the Host/newfound target of affection. He opens his mouth in an attempt to amend his spur of the moment confession until he hears the Host's muttered response:

"...The feeling is mutual".

The two of them are both blushing messes and the silence is impenetrable. Dr. Iplier doesn't know how to respond. What was he supposed to say? How does one typically proceed from here? How does this work?

He breaks the silence with a hastily stammered excuse to grab a damp hand towel and a fresh bandage for the Host's bleeding eye sockets. The doctor gently wipes the blood off the Host's face, dyeing the towel pink.

The Host knew better than to argue about being able to do it himself. "It's my job!" the doctor said every time the Host commented on it, even though he knew it wasn't necessary. Whether it be the simple action of bandaging his face or wiping blood off it, Dr. Iplier was always gentle. The doctor was one of the only ones who knew what happened to the Host: what happened to his eyes, what he had done, who he'd hurt. And still, still Dr. Iplier treated him with curtesy and kindness. But why? It was one of the things about the doctor that the Host found intriguing- captivating even. And to think that Dr. Iplier liked him back...

"You are..." the Host pauses, searching for the right word to say next. Although he's a writer and self proclaimed linguist, he can't find another word that conveys the same emotion and feeling. "Beautiful. The Host wishes that he could see you".

"Host, you don't have to. I'm really not," the doctor asserts with a half-hearted chuckle. He tries to focus on helping his patient instead of the burning sensation on his cheeks. At least the Host was stable enough to phase out of talking in first person.

The Host's head tilts to the side, frowning slightly. "You are the kind of doctor and person that others like the Host need, but not necessarily the one they deserve. The Host understands if this is something you aren't comfortable pursuing yet, or ever."

Dr. Iplier scoffs, setting the now bloodstained towel down. "Hold on, you deserve all the care and support in the world, medical or otherwise. Sure you've done horrible things in the past, but that doesn't make you any less deserving of happiness now."

The doctor gingerly unties the Host's bandage to expose closed eyelids caked with dried blood. "Because you're 'beautiful' too. And this-," Dr. Iplier pauses, taking the Host's hand in both his own. "This is something that I want too. If you'll have me".

"Of course," the Host says with a rare smile. It's sweet and small, but the doctor's heart palpitates anyways. "The Host would even like to ask if you were free for coffee or a beverage of your choice later, if you are interested."

"Are you... asking me out?" The Host was always taken aback at how dumb his doctor sometimes was.

"The Host says yes".

"Neat!" Dr. Iplier exclaims a little too enthusiastically, "Um, I'll be there."

He carefully ties the new bandage over the Host's face. The doctor knew the pristine cloth would only stay white for so long until it got stained red again and his patient would have to return. The Host slides off the bed to face Dr. Iplier.

"The Host would like to thank the doctor for his help and for accepting his proposal. The Host also implores Dr. Iplier to put a shirt on." The Host's gaze (if one could call it that) drifts to the floor to try and avoid having his thoughts veer into dangerous territory again.

That explains why the doctor felt so cold. He tries to ignore the sharp spikes of embarrassment stabbing his insides. You know it's bad when a legally blind man points out your dress code infringement (or lack thereof of said "dress").

"Well that's unprofessional of me. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"The Host says it's more than fine, just distracting. The Host will leave to let the doctor finish changing."

"Oh."

Dr. Iplier is still unused to all the compliments and to seeing this slightly flirty Host. Not that he was complaining though. He had so many questions and cursed his lack of experience. The Host was halfway out the door when the doctor calls out after him.

"Hey Host, how do you know all this stuff?"

Dr. Iplier knew with 100% certainty that the Host never brought any partners back to the manor (his medical questionnaires tend to be extensive, if not a little insensitive), and he was sure that the Author's experiences didn't really count as the Host's own.

The Host grins mischievously. "You don't know half of the things I write. Maybe I'll show you one day, if you're up to it."

A spot of crimson spreads through the Host's bandages as he shifts into first person. On that note, the Host leaves and the doctor is left with more confusion and a piqued interest.

The doctor grabs a clean shirt, bunching it up and covers his face, groaning. What does the Host write? Where the hell did he get "neat" from? What happened to the less awkward (but not nearly as fulfilling) doctor-patient relationship they used to have?

The doctor finally puts the shirt on and his lab coat over it, falling facedown onto his bed. The headmirror presses uncomfortably against his skull. He didn't know when "later" was for his little date, nor where. Where they going to meet there or were they going together? And holy fuck, what was he going to wear?

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

Host smiles to himself, walking down the familiar path to his room. For the first time in a long time, he felt content: he finally asked the flustered doctor out, though he didn't expect getting "distracted" or the doctor actually accepting.

He turns a corner to sense some of the other egos crowding the hallway with conniving looks directed towards him. How did they find out so fast? The Host mentally prepares himself for annoyance.

"I hear that someone has been trying to make a move on our good doctor here," Dark announces with a smirk. "I congratulate you Host, I hope the two of find happiness."

Dark sighs wistfully. The others can't tell if he is joking or not when he mutters "they grow up so fast" like a proud parent.

"So~?" Wilford teases in a singsong voice, slinging his arm around the blindfolded man's shoulder and whispers conspiratorially: "didya fuck?"

The others respond with similar curiosity, loudly talking over one another. The Host can sense an imminent migraine at the multiple dialogues and camera panning he has to keep track of. But he appreciates their support nonetheless.

"Can I just establish the fact that I am still the gayest one here? Just saying," Bim affirms as an afterthought.

"The Host asks all of the egos to stop blocking the hallway."

[royal-writer]

Stay Safe

Something very short while I prep to go out for the remaining of the day~

An acidic burn of flesh clung to the air. Discoloring the skin of the man before her; a hand slapped to his face while howls ripped from his throat. His weapon now laid upon the ground before him as he wailed; loud and with anguish. Regret lingering in the last good eye the man had, while the other was missing from its socket.

Essätha raised an elegant hand hand; weaving a series of gestures in the air with a hiss. Easy enough. She could finish him off grant the pathetic fool mercy.

The thunder of boots rushed from the sidelines. Her hip pivoted; rolling to move but the swing of the axe already in motion in a swing right at her.

A reactive shift in energy moved from her adjacent side to barrier between her and the figure. An explosion of sparks as metal clanked to metal; the crunching of pebbles and dirt from feet anchored against the ground. She looked to see the gritted teeth of determination on Lord Amon’s face. The beads of sweat on his forehead, the color of life’s crimson liquid staining through his clothes.

The man snarled into Amon’s face. Dark eyes meeting dark. With a sickening look of joy, the man brought up his other axe in a swift, upward gesture.

Amon let out a deep, aching grunt in his chest. The sharp edge of the blade wedged in his abdomen.

With horror, Essätha watched as he stumbled. His weight, fell into her suddenly as he fell back, knocking them both down. Half of him on top of her; the back of her head smacking the dirt briefly. Dust interweaving in her black locks and dusting atop her thin clothes and delicate bruised skin.

She grabbed for him. The broad shape of his shoulders. Pulling him closer as the wide-eyed look of fear from her eyes rounded up to the shape of the figure’s cruel face. Seen only in a moment’s flash, before the shadows of her friends were around her. Backs before her, holding at bay the characters surrounding them.

With the rest of the party at their aid, Essie cradled Amon’s head in her lap. His face a pale, sweaty complexion as he gasped; ragged and short on breath. The crimson blotch and shredded hole torn into his frame rapidly growing as liquid seeped out along the edges.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” she breathed; a shaken smile on her face. Reaching into the thick leather strapped pouch at her hip, a hand rustled around to grasp for one of the vials of elixir stored inside.

“You’re okay. You’re okay; I’ve got you. I’m here, you’re okay.”

Her chanted words of soothing for him more a self-medicated hope. Watching as his the depth of those abysmal ocean-eyes fluttered and closed. A strained rasp for air; choking back agony.

Uncorking the potion with fumbling, shaky fingertips, she pressed the open container to his discolored lips. A sputtered cough escape Amon; dragging on the liquid that poured into his mouth as he swallowed greedily. Various lacerations and piercing holes against his build began to shrink and diminish. New skin appeared to stitch itself together as the health potion depleted into an empty flask.

Essätha gripped the bottle tighter in her digits as she pulled it away. Watching as hues of life began to seep back into his complexion. The most beautiful color in the shape of his eyes as heavy eyelids arose. Staring at her. His breath a quiet gasping as he found himself.

A hand grabbed for hers. Palm against the back of her hand holding the vial, with a wide-eyed wonder of awe.

It was a span of seconds, but she felt an eternity span between the relief swelling beneath her breast nestled in the bottomless warmth of her heart staring into those grand eyes, and knowing he would be alright.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“That was reckless,” Essätha chastised, her glowering expression pointed up at the face before her as she placed her index finger to his chest.

“Did you even think before acting? By the gods m’lord, you’d already been stabbed and beaten half a dozen times, I had it under control!”

Much to her surprise, he didn’t seem the least bit bothered by her hounding words and reddened face. Though it was probably hard to take her too seriously, with her face swollen and red-eyed tear-stained features.

No, he was smiling upon her. Broadly. Stupidly.

His hands reached out. Weathered slightly; rough as they slid over her bare shoulders. Down the length of her arms, holding to her hands. She frowned slightly, her heartbeat stuttering in her wrist as he stroked his fingertips against her. Squeezed her palms to his. Let go of her, leaving her drawing her eyebrows together and frowning at the loss.

The warmth of his palms found her waist. Cradling her nearer to him, until she was shivering close to his chest. A guarded complexion. Keeping up a sour face even as her muscles grew lax; her fear-driven thoughts fading into nothing.

Fingers kneaded and caressed the bare skin of her tummy, to her waist, over her hips, and back around to rub against her lower back. Zapping her strength, making her sag against him.

“I don’t feel any armor,” he reminded her with a smug grin; pulling one hand away to tap upon his upper chest.

“Do you hear that sound?” he went on. “That sounds like- leather.”

Releasing a sharp tisk, Essätha reached up to grasp at one of the unbuckled straps from his armor covering. Finding her other hand against his bare chest, far from the tender skin of his pink and freshly mended wound. The muscles beneath her touch flexing as she tugged on the strap, pulling him closer.

“I didn’t help you much this time, did it?” she reminded him, more sulky than anything as her lower lip pouted.

A rich chuckle worked its way out of Amon. He tugged her in closer; against the vulnerable shape of his broad chest.

“Not this time,” he agreed. “But it usually does a better job than nothing at all.”

“Armor slows me down, and hinders my magic!” Essie defended with a pitiful, hopeless expression beneath long lashes. Her puckered lip seemed to draw in his attention, as Amon placed the hand not around her to her face. Gently cupping to her cheek, with his thumb outlining the shape of her lips as she pouted.

His eyes moved between her mouth and her eyes now, as she went on in a whiny little whisper, “It would be a shame to cover all this up.”

“Oh, damn near criminal,” Amon agreed, inching closer.

“Mmm… unless being covered by someone…?”

“Oh my dear, what a wicked implication.”

Essätha smiled; her breath hitching out of her as tender lips lightly pressed to hers. An innocent gesture, followed by another just as sweet and endearing. Then another, then another; gradually growing more heated, slowly drawing a shaky gasp as lips parted and the dizzying folds of passion unboxed themselves for her, in the nestled arms of sanctuary.

[inspectorboxer]

World on Fire

by Inspector Boxer

Fandom: Supergirl

Pairing: Alex/Maggie

Rating: T

Author’s notes: This is a prompt fill for @quinnsexriot who requested prompt #10, “Did you really think I’d just give up?” This one got a bit angsty and intense, but it’s got a happy ending. Hope you like it. :)

Thanks to @zennie-fic for the quick beta.

****

Maggie struggled toward consciousness. She was warm, unbearably so, sweat slick on her body beneath her clothes, and the world waiting for her on the other side of the darkness was deadly.

A loud groan followed by a worrisome cracking finally jarred her leaden eyelids open, and Maggie woke to a world on fire.

“Alex?” Maggie whispered, struggling to sit up. Her legs were pinned by something heavy, and panic stirred in her chest, chasing away the mental cobwebs and sharpening her senses. “Alex!” she called out with a little more volume, glancing around for her girlfriend and finding nothing but destruction and flames. She drew in a deep breath of the heated air, choking on ash and smoke. “Alex!”

The old apartment building. The alien they’d chased inside. The trap they’d walked right into. It came back to her in a sick rush when she remembered the fire, Alex pushing her out of the way to save her.

“Maggie!” Alex suddenly yelled back, somewhere close, the distress in her voice agitating Maggie further, but at least she knew the other woman was alive.  

Wooden timbers dropped from the ceiling with a boom, embers shooting skyward at the impact, and the floor vibrated ominously under her. Maggie struggled to get up again. She had to get out of there. She had to get Alex out of there.

Maggie turned to assess what was holding her down and discovered something far more concerning. A section of floor had given way behind her, opening a gaping chasm to the ground four stories below. It glowed with fire, smoking drifting toward the ceiling, looking for all the world like a pit straight to hell.

“Shit,” Maggie hissed. Where was Supergirl when you needed her?

With the world burning down around her, Maggie twisted, trying to pull her legs free. Pain exploded in her right ankle and she grimaced, clenching her teeth, but she kept fighting, desperate to get to Alex.

“Maggie!” Alex abruptly stumbled out of the destruction, her features streaked with soot and marred by scratches, and Maggie’s nearly collapsed at seeing her alive and whole.

Palms on the floor, Maggie had to shift to her elbows as the surface became too hot to touch. “I’m pinned,” she warned Alex. “Get help!”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex shot back, ripping off her tactical vest and tossing it aside. Her features were drenched in sweat and she coughed as she edged closer, trying to find a way around the debris and flames to get them out.

Several floorboards splintered under Alex’s feet and fell away, forcing the agent to retreat from her chosen path. Alex swore as the holes revealed the inferno below them. She froze, the remaining wood creaking threateningly. The joists wouldn’t hold much longer.

Maggie stared at the other woman, a strange mixture of calm and grief descending upon her as she accepted her fate, watching as Alex searched frantically for a way to get to her.

There was none.

Maggie hated that she didn’t get more time. She hated that she wouldn’t live to see where this amazing thing she shared with Alex would lead them, but she was grateful she’d tasted it, that she’d known what it meant to fall in the kind of love that could have lasted a lifetime.

“Alex…” Maggie pleaded calmly, tears blurring her vision and choking the back of her throat as fire raged around them. “The floor is gonna go, babe. You need to get back.”

“Like hell,” Alex snarled.

“Think of Kara. She needs you. I need you to live, Alex. Please…”

“I’m not leaving you,” Alex said again, her own features contorting in pain as their gazes met and held. “I can’t.”

“Alex…”

Ignoring her, Alex got down on her stomach and started inching closer, trying to displace her weight. Even when the floor cracked and splintered, dropping several inches, Alex never wavered, and Maggie realized whatever happened next, Alex was determined they would be in it together.

“No,” Maggie shouted. “Alex, no!”

Alex kept coming. She was too close now, her hand inches from Maggie’s own. “Damnit, Danvers! Get back!”

There was a loud boom below, and Maggie knew in her guts it was the end. She closed her eyes, unable to watch Alex die.

Fingers slippery with sweat and soot wrapped around Maggie’s wrist as something shattered below them. The floor tipped, and the heavy object pinning Maggie’s leg fell away. A moment later she followed, plunging toward the fire below.

Alex never let go.

****

The low murmur of voices slowly ebbed into Maggie’s awareness. She groaned softly. Her head throbbed and her lungs ached, but she willed her eyes open, wincing at the ceiling that came into focus. It was sad she recognized the view. She was in the medical bay at the DEO.

Drawing in a sharp breath, Maggie tried to sit up, ripping off the oxygen mask she found over her nose and mouth. “Alex?”

Someone shushed her gently, and a warm, firm hand on her shoulder urged her back onto the bed. “She’s okay.”

There was no resisting that pressure, and Maggie dropped her head back on the pillows, never happier to see the Girl of Steel at her side.

“She’s okay,” Supergirl said again with a reassuring smile. “Something tells me she’ll be even better now that you’re awake.”

Maggie squinted into the lights. “You saved us, huh?”

Supergirl hesitated before she slowly nodded, and Maggie saw a glimpse of remembered terror in her eyes. “Caught you both just in time and flew you to the DEO. You missed the ride, Detective,” she teased.

“Alex?” Maggie needed her, and she didn’t give a damn if that made her weak.

“I sent her to get cleaned up. Told her I’d watch you.” Supergirl’s blue eyes were kind and full of concern. She tipped her head slightly, listening. “Here she comes, though. I knew she’d hurry.”

“I told you to come get me,” Alex huffed, moving quickly to Maggie’s side. Her hair was still wet from the showers, and the scratches on her features were more vivid without the soot to disguise them.

The sight of her was better than a sedative for calming Maggie down, and she closed her eyes in simple relief. They weren’t done. Not yet. Hopefully not for a very long time.

“She just woke up, dummy.” Supergirl nevertheless grinned as Alex started fussing over her girlfriend, checking Maggie’s ankle, followed by her IV, and finally reaching up to run one of her hands through Maggie’s hair.

“You okay?” Alex whispered.

“Yeah,” Maggie breathed, opening her eyes again to stare at Alex for a long, charged moment. Even injured, exhausted, and worried, Alex Danvers was the most beautiful thing Maggie had ever seen. “But for the record? You’re an idiot.”

Supergirl snorted in amusement only to get a scathing glare from Alex.

“Wow. Okay,” Kara drawled. “I can see I’m no longer needed.” Supergirl smiled at them both, warmth and affection heavy in her gaze. Maggie captured Supergirl’s hand before she could turn and leave, squeezing as hard as she could.

“Thanks. For everything,” Maggie added. Supergirl glanced at Alex, her gaze softening before it returned to Maggie. “Anytime,” she murmured. “Glad you’re okay.”

Alex suddenly looked a little more contrite. “I’ll come find you later,” she promised.

Supergirl nodded and left them alone.

“She’s got damn good timing, huh?” Maggie smiled.

“You have no idea,” Alex said around a weak laugh.

Maggie leaned into Alex’s touch as the other woman cupped her cheek, savoring the familiar calluses on Alex’s palm, the living warmth of her skin. “You okay?” Alex repeated quietly.

“Am now. Although I’ve got a headache and my ankle throbs like a bitch.”

Alex smiled, but Maggie could see fear lingering in her eyes. It had been close. Too close.

Maggie tilted her head, studying her lover critically. She scooted over and patted the bed beside her. “Sit down before you fall down, hon.”

The soft term of endearment never failed to bring a smile to Alex’s lips, and this time was no exception. Gingerly, Alex sat, and Maggie wondered what kind of injuries Alex was keeping from her.

“What about you?”

Alex shrugged. “Nothing that won’t heal.” She swallowed and looked down as Maggie threaded their fingers together. “This…” Alex tightened her grip. “This is all I need to feel better,” she confessed.

“You’re an idiot,” Maggie reminded her. “You shouldn’t have done that, Alex.”

“Did you really think I’d just give up?” Alex chided. “Knowing you were in there? That you could be hurt? That you could be…?” She looked away, swallowing roughly as a few agents walked past the medical bay, laughing at a private joke.

Maggie stared at Alex’s proud profile. No one had ever put themselves on the line for her like that. No one. “You were willing to fall with me,” Maggie whispered, slightly awed.

Alex’s head whipped back around at the words. She shrugged, the motion jerky. “I knew Supergirl…”

“No you didn’t,” Maggie countered, easing back against the pillows again. “I saw the look in your eyes, Alex. You made the choice…” Her voice broke.

“I couldn’t…” Alex sighed. “I didn’t want to come out of there without you,” she ground out, her voice wavering. “So yeah. I was willing to fall with you.” She drew in a shaky breath. “Considering I already fell for you once…” she added, her tone a little lighter, “the second time seemed like a piece of cake.”

Maggie rolled her eyes even though she was secretly charmed. “I love you,” she breathed, saying the words she’d been holding back for several weeks now. Alex predictably melted at the declaration, and the emotion Maggie felt for the amazing woman at her side only grew stronger and sweeter at the sight.

“Maggie…”

“You don’t have to say it back if you’re not ready,” Maggie told her. “I just… I wanted you to know that. You deserve to know that.”

Warm lips on her own meant everything until Alex spoke. “I love you too.”

Maggie tugged on Alex’s shirt, encouraging her to curl around her on the small gurney. They snuggled together, warm, close, and alive. Despite the hell they’d just been through, they’d found a slice of heaven at the end of it.