#Radiating Stitches Dies

[craftystampin]

You Can Create It - International Challenge & Inspiration - December 2023

You Can Create It I’m so excited to be part of the international “You Can Create It!” group of Stampin’ Up! demonstrators.  The group was started by German demonstrators Anja Luft and Heike Fallwickl as a challenge to see what different and beautiful projects can be created from the same list of just a few materials. Every trimester there are 4 monthly envelopes plus an extras envelope.  Each…

[thought--bubble]

Upon his Brother's Table

Aemond X (Aegon's betrothed Reader)

Warnings below

Word Count: 1,748

Canon Aemond Master List

Full Master List

MDNI Banners & dividers by @arcielee

*Just a little something i put together for @queen--kenobi 's table sex event. I had to contribute to the petty. It was too good!

Warnings: Infidelity, choking, unprotected P in V, Dub-con. Potential spoilers of future events

Aemond paces back and forth, his heels clicking against the cold stone floor in the council room, his face is flushed, and his composure is nearly gone. Not a look one would usually see on Aemond, but his patience has been pushed to the brink.

"I served him... LOYALLY!" The anger radiates off him in waves as you stay seated, quietly allowing him to vent his frustrations.

"I gave everything for his cause. Would have died for his cause. Almost did die for his cause and this ...... this is how he repays me? By taking from me that which is rightfully mine?"

You flinch as he brings his fists down harshly upon the council table.

You were speechless, shocked by this turn of events. Your betrothal to Prince Aemond at the start of the war was nothing more than a political match. A way for the crown to guarantee that your father's armies and banners would ride for King Aegon II and not the pretender Queen Rhaenyra.

When Queen Heleana perished during the war, you never thought King Aegon would then change your betrothal from his brother, the prince, to himself, though your father was elated. With the deaths of his sons, the King needed an heir, and with you as his betrothed and soon to be wife, it would be your duty to give him one. Putting your family's blood on the throne. A thought that had your father salivating but had the one-eyed prince seething.

You sat disinterested as Aemond hisses in anger, pacing the length of the council table in continuum.

"All of these things are his because of me." The amount of hatred stitched into each and every word that comes from his mouth is evident.

"The red keep is his because of me, the kingdom is his because of me, the throne is his because of me......"

He stops in his tracks and turns to look at you. His one violet eye pierces through you, causing you to stiffen in your seat.

"You are his because I dragged him from death's door and brought him here." He clenches his teeth tightly, the muscles in his jaw flexing with the tension.

"And he sees fit to take you from me? As if I lost nothing fighting this war in his name!" He stalks toward you, pulling you up to your feet by the thin material of the front of your dress.

"My prince!" You squeak out in shock at his brazen move.

"I will have what is mine." With a growl, he lifts and tosses you on the table. Papers and other random items scatter to the floor as he climbs up onto the table, hovering above you.

"Your maidenhead was promised to me." He shuffles the layers of your dress up to your hips hurriedly as you lay still beneath him.

You know you should scream, kick, tell him to stop, but a type of morbid curiosity keeps you silent. Your eyes follow his fingers. Making a mental log of each movement they make from rucking up your skirts to the quick movement of curling around your small clothes and the subsequent tug of the material down your legs.

"Will you not try and stop me then?" He huffs as his grip tightens around the flesh of your thighs.

"I believe you are a good man, Prince Aemond. I do not believe you will go through with this. Thus, there is no need to fight. " You portray confidence in your words, only the slight tremble in your legs gives away your nervousness, yet the clever Prince Aemond is never one to miss signs such as these, no matter how subtle.

He smirks, it would be beautiful if it weren’t so condescending.

"Then you are more of a fool than I took you to be," he pulls your thighs up around him, resting one on each side of his hips while he leans back on his haunches.

"I am going to take you, my lady. Right here upon my brother's table." He lifts one hand from your thigh and slides it against the sleek treated wood of the table beneath you. "The table that is his only due to my own efforts."

He brings one hand to the laces of his breeches, skillfully taking apart the small knot, keeping them closed and tight to his lithe frame. His other hand remains on your thigh, intermittently squeezing at the soft flesh there.

He grunts quietly as he frees his cock from its confines, slowly pumping himself to full hardness.

"I will not be gentle, so I advise you to hold on."

He reaches down to your heat with his free hand, rubbing your clit with his thumb in rough circles.

You can't help but release a small gasp at his touch.  As your brain was telling you to stop this, to make him stop, your body was betraying you.

Your back arched up off the hard table beneath you, your hips canting into his rough touch.

"We...... should not. " You finally huff out between wanton sighs.

"But we shall," he growls back, removing his hand from your heat and gripping your hips tight, slightly lifting your bottom half from the table and into his lap.

Your eyes slightly roll back when you feel him press the fat, throbbing tip of his cock against your entrance.

"You mustn't!" Even as you say this, you make no moves to get away from him, even as you feel him continue to push into you, splitting you apart in a way that is painful yet satisfying.

"Oh, but I must," he says through gritted teeth, pushing himself further into your clenching tunnel. "A point must be made."

He lets out a low growl as he bottoms out, stilling inside of you. You take this as a small gesture of kindness. He must not want to hurt you. That is, at the very least, a good sign.

As the pain starts to subside and is replaced by an overwhelming feeling of fullness, you move your hips, and he chuckles.

"Ahh, I see you are ready now, my lady" he pulls his hips back his cock sliding effortlessly out from you before he pistons himself back into you, his pace growing more fervent with every thrust.

The sound of skin hitting skin echoes through the otherwise quiet space, the only other sounds being your heavy breathing and the squeaking of the table legs beneath you.

"Tell me, sweet girl," he snarls as he grips your hips tight, slamming into you harshly. "How does it feel to be fucked by the great Prince Aemond? Mighty warrior? Hmm?"

You attempt to focus your eyes on the ethereal man above you, sweet drips down his brow, and his eyes rest on the place where you are so intimately connected.

"I....... I" your words fail you. Only a stutter and moans can be heard.

Aemond licks his thumb before bringing it against your pearl, resuming his earlier ministrations, and chuckles darkly as your legs twitch around him.

"Speechless, I see... it gladdens me to know how grateful you are, that I have allowed you such an experience" his other hand leaves your hip and slides up the length of your body until it rests upon your throat which he uses to hold you in place, thrusting into you ever harder.

Your legs clench around him tightly as a pressure builds in your lower stomach, as unfamiliar as the feeling is you find the stronger it gets, the more desperate you become clawing at the prince attempting to bring him closer to you, to feel more of him on your skin.

"Aweeee," he coos, "and now you beg for me? How darling." His condescending smirk returns as his thrusts get harsher, and the grip around your throat tightens.

"Now thank me," he demands, his hips moving faster and that coiling in your stomach reaching a fever pitch.

"T-thank you!" As the words leave your lips, the coil snaps, and your entire body tenses.

Your back arches off the table as if you are being lifted by something unseen, and the control you have over your own body has been snatched away from you.

 Aemond throws his own head back, gripping your throat tightly as he chases his own end.

"And here is yet another gift I bestow upon my ungrateful brother." his words come out as a hiss, his thrusts getting sloppier and more desperate.

He gasps loudly as his hips still pushing himself into you as far as he can possibly go.

A warmth can be felt spreading through you, a strange yet calming sensation that sees your limbs finally settle back on the hard table beneath you.

As quickly as your calmness came, it was gone, Aemond pulled himself from your body, quickly pulling up his breeches and getting off the table.

As he fixes the strings and his doublet putting everything back into place, he finds you still sprawled across the tabletop, his spend dripping from your abused cunt.

"You need to get up and compose yourself. Someone could enter at any minute." He says gruffly while tossing your small clothes onto your stomach.

You sit at the edge of the table and slide the fabric back up your legs covering the sticky mess he had left behind.

When he was confident you looked presentable, he took a few quick strides toward the council room doors, no doubt making a hasty exit.

"What was the final gift?" The words flew from your mouth before you had a chance to think it through.

"Come again?" He turns back to look at you, his one violet eye meets yours. You see no guilt, no pride, no anger. Indifference is what it looked like. He had returned to that emotionless stoic prince you had seen haunting the halls of the red keep like a specter.

"You said earlier. That you were bestowing yet another gift upon your brother. What was the gift?"

He chuckles again, a smile that actually reaches his eyes.

"An heir, planted in your womb this day, to sit upon the throne I won him." He doesn't wait for any further response from you and opens the door, escaping out into the corridor and disappearing from sight.

Leaving you alone and visibly shaken. Your body is held up only by leaning on your arm that rests upon his brother's table.

To be added to taglist click here

[telephonedear]

no because do you ever think about the apollo cabin?

they were one of the biggest cabins, probably second only to hermes’. as the healers and the archers, they were key players in the battle of manhattan. without will solace, annabeth would be dead, and without the cabin as a whole, so many other campers would be, too.

 the archers had to go fight on the front lines, which we literally see in the book. think of how many monsters and demigods they probably fought off- think of what would’ve happened if they hadn’t been there. would camp half blood still have won the war? how many other demigods were on the bridge with michael yew, defending it? how many of them died when it collapsed? did they get confused in the midst of the battle field and shoot eachother?

and the healers. gods. not only were they working in the building, but it’s likely that they were in the midst of battle, too. many of them were probably sent out to try and save and revive campers all across the city, or offer ambrosia and what little supplies they had left. healers are made to protect, and so that is what they did. think of how many demigods they must have saved, and then think of how many healers probably died saving the lives of their friends.

but the apollo cabin was full of dreamers. they prioritize art and poetry and music. they were dancers, mediators, idealists. they were creators and lovers. the apollo cabin was a light around camp, and kept camp half blood together. they were the glue. they saved olympus and all demigods in the war, and held them together all throughout it, until the end.

the apollo cabin lost the most campers of any cabin, because they were there. they were present. so many of them died with a bow in hand, defending olympus and camp half blood. so many of them died while pushing campers out of the way from attacks, while giving stitches or ambrosia. think of how terrified they must have been, knowing that they wouldn’t return back to their cabin. think of all the bodies that littered manhattan in the aftermath, and then think of how many of those bodies belonged to the apollo cabin. think of apollo, when he saw his children, his beautiful, lovely children, radiating light in death. his beloved children, who knew the risks and chose to save, to heal, to love, to hope.

without the apollo cabin, kronos would have won the war. the apollo cabin went from one of the biggest cabins to one of the smallest. they were, undoubtedly, some of the bravest demigods alive. they gave their lives saving those who couldn’t save themselves, and i think that it is tragic.

[locker42]

Bounty Hunter - I Love You

Warnings: swearing, smut (can be skipped, won’t contain something relevant to the storyline), mentions of injuries, blood, stitches.

Pairing: Bellamy Blake x Grounder!reader.

Word count: 2780.

Series Masterlist.

Masterlist.

You opened your eyes to see a metal ceiling above you, the light shining down at you make you squint your eyes. As you slipped back to consciousness, you became more aware of the room you were in. You were laying on one of the beds in medbay, a tube connected to your cubital fossa. Your headache was much better, allowing you to sit up slowly.

“You should be resting.” You heard a voice say from your right. You turned and saw Nyilah approaching you.

“I just woke up.” You said, your voice cracking due to the smoke the invaded your lungs.

“How is your head?” She asked, stepping closer to you and gently touching your head, only now you were aware of the wound right by your hairline. You raised your own hand, touching the stitches that were made.

“It’s good, thank you.” You replied, dropping your hand.

“You’re welcome. There is someone who wants to see you, but I told him that you needed to rest a little before anyone could visit. You hit your head very hard and you need to let it time to heal.” She explained, however after she told you someone wanted to see you your focused left her almost immediately. Bellamy, he was the one who wanted to see you. And, god, you wanted to see him so bad. You wanted to wrap your arms around him and hold him tightly, you wanted to kiss him and just feel him.

Before you could reply to her, your attention was drawn to Clarke who entered the room, heading straight to you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” She asked you, coming to stand by your bed.

“I’m feeling good, and I guess I should be thanking you for saving my life. I’m pretty sure I would have died if you didn’t help me.” You said, giving her a thankful smile.

“That one wasn’t just me, actually.” She admitted, making you frown in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“After you passed out Roan came to your side and made sure that you got to medbay. No one was willing to come that close because the Ark was crushing down.”

You couldn’t help but feel surprised at her words. It didn’t make sense why Roan would help you, especially after what he’s done.

“Where is he?” You asked, letting your curiosity win this time.

“He’s in Arkadia.” She informed. “We’re supposed to have a meeting later about leaving for the island.”

“The island?”

“Yes, that’s where Becca’s lab is. My mom and a few more are already there, working on the Nightblood solution.”

“Nightblood? You want to make everyone immune to the radiation?” You asked, the idea not quite settling in your head.

“Exactly. But the Nightblood can only be made in space. There’s a rocket there so we need to bring them the fuel.” Clarke explained to you.

“When are you leaving?” You asked, twisting your body so that your legs were hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Tomorrow morning.”

“Then I’m coming.”

“Wait, that’s not a good idea.” Niylah objected and took a step closer to you, making you turn to her.

“Why? I have all day to rest and then I’ll go. It’s not like I’m going to war.”

She sighed before nodding her head, however her face still showed disapproval.

“Where is Bellamy?” You hesitantly asked Clarke.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go get him.” She said and quickly turned around and left the room.

You fiddled with the tube connected uncomfortably to your forearm, then you noticed the now stitched cut. You took a deep breath before pulling the tube out of your skin, hissing as the action stung. After a minute or so Bellamy came rushing into the room, walking towards you.

“Y/N.” He said before wrapping him arms around you. You returned the hug, relieved to finally be in his arms. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” He asked as he pulled away, examining your head.

“I’m good, Bell.” You said and grabbed both of his hands. “How are you?”

“I’m okay, clearly not the one you should be worried about.” He said, making you roll your eyes. “How did you even get here? I though Roan left you at Polis.”

“He did, but I escaped. I came straight here to warn someone but before I could the ship exploded.” You paused for a second before you realized. “This was your solution, wasn’t it?”

He looked down before nodding his head. “And now it’s ruined, and so is our chance of survival.”

“Clarke told me about the Nightblood. She told me you were leaving tomorrow to bring them the fuel. There is hope, if Abby can turn us all into Nightbloods than we have a chance to live.” You said and gently cupped his cheeks. He offered you a small smile before drawing away.

“Come on, let’s get you to your room. You can rest there.” He said and helped you off the bed. After saying a last ‘thank you’ to Niylah, you followed him out of the room. He led you through the halls, insisting you lean on him as you walked. As you got to the room you noticed that on the door was a note that said, ‘Bellamy Blake.’

“This is your room?” You asked as he unlocked it with his keys.

“Yep.”

He opened the door, allowing you to step in first. You took a look around noticing some discarded clothes in one corner of the room, the bed was unmade, and there was a book on the bedside table. “Nice room.” You commented.

“Thanks.” He said and scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. You took a seat on the bed, keeping your gaze on the wall in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You said, making him look at you with surprise.

“What do you mean?” He asked, coming to stand in front of you.

“For not coming back.”

He opened his mouth to argue but you cut him off. “I know you’re mad, or at least were mad at me. And it’s okay, I get it, I do.”

“Hey, look at me.” He said softly and cupped your cheek, gently lifting your head to look at him. “You’re right, I was mad at you for not coming back but it wasn’t because of you, I just missed you. Things happened here and I just wished I could have talked to you about them.”

His words didn’t make you feel better, only more guilty as you looked away from him.

“There was just so much to deal with and I- I think I was scared to come back here.” You said quietly, still not looking up. “I mean, after what happened with Pike I didn’t think I would be welcomed here.”

“I understand your worries. But I promise you that no one is going to try and kill you or hurt you. I would never allow that to happen.” You finally looked up and met his eyes, a small smile rising on your face as you took in his features.

“I missed you, you know.” You said, bringing your hand up to run down his chest.

“I missed you, too.” He said and leaned down, locking your lips with his. The kiss started slowly, as if recognizing the other’s lips for the first time. You felt his tongue run over your lips and you opened your mouth, deepening the kiss. You placed your hands on his chest, then moving up to his shoulders and pulling him with you as you laid back. He followed your lead, climbing on top of you without breaking the kiss.

You felt at ease, you felt exited and relieved to be with Bellamy again. You pulled his body closer to yours, hearing his soft groan made shivers run down to your core. You slowly began to push his jacket off with your hands, but he pulled away before you could take it off.

“Y/N, we shouldn’t. You need to rest.” He said, his voice sounding deeper than usual, which only made you want to continue.

“I’m fine, Bellamy. I promise.” You said and pulled him back to you, placing a light kiss on his jaw. “I want you.” You said, then continued trailing kisses down his throat. “I need you.”

His jaw clenched before he slightly drew away to take off his jacket, then he moved back to you, kissing down your neck. Your hand moved to his hair, gripping it tightly as he found your sweet spot, making you moan quietly. You free hand moved to the bottom of his shirt, slipping your hand up and tugging it. He got your hint and took off his shirt. You all but drooled over him, running your hands down his torso, feeling the hard muscles beneath them. You moved your hands up, pulling him down to kiss you. He kissed faster and deeper this time, his hand coming to hike your leg up his hip. You moaned when you felt his hardness press against your core, your hips grinding up uncontrollably. He moved his hips against yours, gifting you the fraction you needed.

You’ve had sex before, but it never felt like that, not so soon. You’ve never wanted someone so bad, needed someone so bad. You sat up and pulled your shirt off, your bra coming in second. His eyes widened as he stared at your naked skin, before he leaned down and pressing his lips against the soft skin of your chest. As he sucked gently on the skin of your breasts you closed your eyes and gripped his hair, the other hand fisting the sheets. He flickered his tongue over your nipple before sucking it into his mouth, drawing a whine from you. He gave the same attention to your other breast before moving his head up to look at you.

“Are you-“ he cleared his throat, “is this your first time?” He asked almost shyly.

You shook your head as your cheeks turned red. “No. Are you?”

“No.”

You stared at each other before you decided to take initiative. You moved your hand down to palm him through his pants, drawing a low groan from him. He dropped his head down to your neck and by the way you felt his hips grinding against your hand, you’d say he was enjoying himself. You wanted to have him, to touch him and to make him feel good, but you wanted to do it slowly - to tease him. You flipped, now laying on top of him. He looked at you, confused, but that expression didn’t last as you leaned down and started kissing his neck down to his collarbone and chest. You pressed your tongue flat over his nipple, feeling his hands coming to rest on your thighs. You grabbed them and moved them up to your ass before continuing your work. As you kissed down his torso you felt his hands shamelessly groping your ass, a smirk coming up to your lips. You licked just above where his pants started, his hips jolting up.

“Fuck..” he muttered, eyes closing. You slowly dragged his waistband down and let your tongue follow.

“Can I?” You asked, tugging further on the waistband.

“Yes, fuck.” He cursed, hands coming to fist the sheets.

You then opened the belt and pulled down his pants and underwear, just enough to take his cock out. Your mouth gaped open as you took him in, thick and tall with a purple tip and a little bit of precum adoring it. You gently licked over the tip, tasting him in your mouth. You opened your mouth for him but he suddenly pulled you back.

“As much as I’m enjoying this.” He said and sat up, pressing a kiss to your lips. “I don’t think I can wait any longer.”

He flipped you again, returning to his spot on top of you before ridding himself of his pants. His hand reached to your pants undoing the belt but not before receiving a nod of consent from you. He started tugging on your pants, a hiss from him catching your attention. You sat up and saw him suck his finger into his mouth, blood staining it.

“What happened?” You asked and grabbed his hand to assess the damage.

“Your many, many knives happened.” Bellamy explained with a chuckle.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry.” You apologized but he quickly shut you up with a kiss.

“It’s okay, but I am going to need help in taking these off.” He said and pointed to your pants. You chuckled before carefully pulling them down and throwing them to the side. He gave your lips a peck before kissing down your body, leaving hickeys behind him all the way to your panties. He spread your legs and placed them over his shoulders, giving him access to your cunt. He placed a gentle kiss on top of your core through your panties, making your breath hitch. He began pulling your underwear off, discarding them behind him, before returning to his latest position.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful.” He whispered as he ran his finger through your folds, making you gasp. Without any warning he licked a stripe of your pussy before moving to your clit, flickering his tongue. You moaned, hips jolting up but he held them down. Your hand moved to his hair — gripping tightly as he began sucking on your clit, his own hand coming up to grip your breast. You felt heavenly, what he was doing to you was heavenly.

He pushed his finger inside of you, your moans getting louder. “Bellamy, fuck, please.” You whined as he added another finger, feeling yourself getting closer. He moved his fingers faster and softly bit on your clit, the action made you go over the edge, gripping his hair even tighter as you yelled out his name loudly. You panted, trying to calm down as he made his was back up to you. His eyes met yours and you couldn’t help the smile the rose on your lips. He returned your smile before leaning down to kiss you. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and the thought itself made you needy all over again.

You opened your legs and felt the tip of his cock tracing between your folds.

“You ready?” He asked, positioning himself at your entrance. You nodded your head with a whine of ‘please’, wrapping your arms around his back. Your nails dug into his skin as he pushed inside you, drawing moans from both of you.

“Can I-“ he groaned, “can I move?”

“Yes, fuck, Bellamy.”

With your permission, he started thrusting in and out of you in a slow and steady pace. As you got used to the feeling of him inside you, you pulled him close to you. “Faster, go faster.”

He obeyed, quickening his pace. Your moans were loud enough for anyone who walked by to hear but you didn’t care, your only focus was on Bellamy. His lip was locked between his teeth as he kept thrusting inside of you, grunts and moans escaping him. You ran your fingernails down his back as you almost screamed, getting closer. Bellamy felt you clench around him and he moved his hand down to draw circles over your clit, pushing you closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Bellamy, shit, I’m so close...” You moaned loudly, throwing your head back in bliss and closing your eyes. “I’m cumming.”

“Look at me.” He demanded as his thrusts were getting sloppier. Your eyes met his and by the dark look on his face only, you came. Your vision became foggy and your breathing was heavy as you. He pulled out of you, jerking himself off and cumming on your stomach with a loud groan of your name.

He dropped on top of you, panting. You wrapped your arms around him and held him close as you came down from your high. “I love you.” You said to him.

“I love you, too. So much.” He said and placed a kiss on your neck before leaning his head on your chat, breath still uneven.

You placed a general kiss on his head and started playing with his curly hair. He hummed in approval, pushing his head up. You chuckled, smiling wide as he lifted his head up to look a you.

“That was amazing, you are amazing.” He said before kissing you. You slipped your tongue in his mouth as you began to move on top on him, his hands coming to study you.

“How about round two, baby?”

[imaexplodenow]

⚠️VERY LONG PARAGRAPHS UP AHEAD, IM SRS 😭 ⚠️

Okay finally! Been a while, but

Helloooo EKH Tumblr! It’s about time I share my AUs I have made! The reason it took a while was cuz the WiFi on all my devices went out for a few days, and I woulda drawn on my phone, but I just didn’t feel that motivation

…..and I made a new AU a few days ago so I was postponing this to draw on the new AU and see if it was one of my,, AUs I’d stick w/

Heads up before u start reading/looking at it!

-There’s a good about of.. chest…. Like…shirtless chest 😓

-So,, if you don’t know me, Sam is,, my favorite character, and so there’s…..a lot of “off character derailment” especially with ‘em. I still love love lloveeee (/p) the anxious cannon Sam, but these changes r for story telling purposes (you’ll see what I mean)

-There’s a GOOD chance that I will make ones in the future, so for now, these r the 6 I HIGHLY focus on as I love AUs and making them

-I have posted most of these on Twt, so if you’ve seen these before, just know I’m sharing these w/ Tumblr, and then I’ll share more on the new AU on Twt after this (u can ask for my @ if you’d like to follow me for more EKH art, as I’ll probably post there more often)

Anyways! Onto the AU sharing and somewhat story telling!

In chronological order of when they were made/discovered:

1st: Virus AU (BL**D/G*RE WARNING)

This was when I was in a BIG horror mood, so it’s basically an apocalyptic x monster AU

Basically, if anyone breathed in the air after a radiation accident, chances are you’d be infected and become a part of the undead,, or a werewolf

First victim of the 4 in this AU: Steven. Fought off a zombie and it took off his mask while in battle, leading to zombie wounds and inhaling the surrounding air killing him off and bringing him back a few days later as a part of the zombie hoard that was rapidly increasing.

Second victim of the 3: Sam. The 3 were fighting off the Steven zombie, and just like Steven and what he was fighting off, the mask came off, but no zombie injuries were present on Sam by the time his passing came. A few more days pass, and he comes back looking.. fine. A little pale, and colorful eyes, but not a zombie at least. Spends a few more days w/ the two that haven’t died, and after feeling extremely weak and a little peeved, takes a bite out of a stranger’s neck. The other two think it’s best to exile him off to a graveyard, to prevent them from getting their necks from getting bitten. Meanwhile, while nights go past after spending time to himself in his new graveyard home, the other two plot to kill him off. It’s decided Kevin should be the one to put a steak in Sam’s slowly beating heart, but when that happens, things go wrong. Despite Sam hating this new life, being killed by a close friend of his was shocking to see, and quickly reacting by fighting back. After some back and forth fighting, Sam accidentally launches himself into a fragile brick wall, causing one brick to fall directly on his head, knocking him out. After awakening to seeing Kevin stitching his injury and running away from guilt, things are no longer the same.

The two of them go to pay a visit to their old friend that’s in the graveyard, particularly because Kevin still cares for Sam and the guilt was eating him alive. They go into the graveyard, and see the place Sam resided in was..oddly more elegant looking than the last visit. Candles, a red carpet…a throne? The two cautiously enter calling out his name. In the blink of an eye, they’re both roped up and on their knees. After a few seconds of panicking and looking around, a sound of sipping was heard from the throne, with their friend looking…different. Still pale, still the red eyes, but more laid back and dressed up. Not like him at all, and not in a good way either, as he emerges from the shadows with a sky look on him. Treating the other two like a frenemy, bickering back and forth with the other two, and after some bickering, threatens to take a bite out of Kevin’s neck. Ofc it’s not something either Kevin or Billy wants, and luckily Kevin’s neck is spared, however, fate wasn’t in Billy’s hands; he shouts at this new Sam, the usual Billy talk, and leads to Sam being fed up. But he can’t bite his “tough love” friend’s neck, no no. There’s other plans for his friend Billy.

Third victim of the 2: Billy. Mask pulled down by this Vampire Sam, and a slight beating, causing Billy to forcefully inhale the air. Sam lets the two go, so they quickly get up and get out of this new home of Sam. They go back to the house all 4 used to live in before all this. They worry. Both of them. None of them want to die or die and then become a violent undead being like their friend. A few more days pass by, and Billy is fine? Maybe the air is fine? No. Night strikes, the moon is out. His body starts to grow and so does the pain, the hair, and the fangs. Mind starts to grow more violent as he cries for help from Kevin. He sees a hole in the wall in the area Billy was in. A huuggeee hole. Kevin would have gone searching, but with all sorts of zombies roaming, boarding up the hole was top priority and he’d have to go looking in the daytime. As nighttime passes, Kevin finishes covering the hole up and sleeps for the night, with late morning time bringing decently loud noises. Morning time comes and Kevin wakes up to hear pained grunts coming from the front door. Cautiously opening the door, he doesn’t see a zombie, he sees Billy, covered in a little bit of blood, dirt, tears in shirt and pants, and just overall messy appeal. It shocks and disgusts Kevin a little bit, but he can’t keep Billy out, as he’s begging to be let back in, saying it’s not safe for him to be outside and how he thinks he ate one or two animals. Kevin lets him in but decides to not discuss what happened, as they both put obvious inferences together. But time after the past hectic days haven’t been easy. Pretty hard actually.

Somehow the werewolf and vampire still chat with each other. The werewolf doesn’t want to keep up with the vampire, but it seems the vampire has learned how to enter the minds of those who sleep, and some more magical abilities. Billy doesn’t sleep as often now, doesn’t go out to get a proper werewolf diet, so both of those factors cause him to stay in a violent mood, especially since he lives with someone he doesn’t have too strong of a connection with. Of course life itself now sucks for him, but being a 12 ft tired and hungry wolf wasn’t on his or Kevin’s bucket list. It’s hard to keep care of the new Billy, but Kevin manages. He goes out so often to get raw meat, fresh water from the remaining water bottles in abandoned stores, keeps calm around Billy as to not escalate anything. Unfortunately, with the other two on the loose wrecking havoc on the public, things can’t always go according to plan.

One day, while Kevin was out getting stuff for Billy, things get messy fast. Billy tries to sleep during the day, since vampires are usually nocturnal, but that was unfortunate timing, as when he wakes up, he’s back at the home of his vampire “friend”. It’s not an illusion either, he’s actually physically there to, as well as…Steven, chained up but right next to the throne. There’s been some improvements to the place, but none to the vampire. If anything he’s gotten worse, somewhat bragging how great it’s been w/o Billy being the one in control. With each sentence Sam was spewing out, it got the werewolf closer and closer to try and maul him to shut him up. Unfortunately, they’re both equal in power, but when it comes to planning an attack, Sam has become better at that with these new found powers; at the perfect time as Billy is really close, he falls under a hypnotic spell, looking straight into Sam’s eyes. Loosening up, not wanting to maul him into pieces, and listening to what Sam’s saying.

Last victim: Kevin. He comes home to the werewolf not being around, getting a little worried, but there’s not much he can do without any visual hints as to where he might have went. So he carries on with his chores, putting away the wolf food and his own, cleans up the place. Of course that’s when Billy returns, of course it is, when he’s cleaning. He informs Billy there’s a restock in the fridge and doesn’t see there’s something wrong with him until Billy states he doesn’t want that. Kevin turns around to see Billy ominously standing at the front door, nothing but red in his eyes, literally. Full glowing red eyes. Getting a little concerned now, Kevin tries to avoid the topic of meats there is to snack on. It doesn’t work, Billy isn’t listening and inches closer to Kevin, treating him like…well…a treat. Next thing you know, Billy grabs one of his legs, making some quick remark of Margaret, sounding something more like what Sam would say, and rips it off without hesitation. A pained scream by Kevin as his lays on the ground, panicking as thoughts rush through his mind. One thought was to call 911, so with the remaining strength he has, he crawls towards his phone and dials 911 (or of course, what’s left of it). As soon as he starts reporting what’s going on, Billy, who’s still in the trance, goes in for the other leg, for another part of him to snack on and to try and shut him up. That only alerts the operator on the other side more, as they say they’ll track Kevin’s location and send an ambulance ASAP. The phone call ends, and so does Billy’s other little snack, but the hypnosis wears off just before he can finish the second leg, and it takes a second for Billy to get a grasp on reality again. He looks behind him, and to his shock and horror, there’s a dying and leg less Kevin, breathing at a rapid pace and heavily, trying to keep his eyes from closing, but with the most amount of emotions he’s ever shown. In this moment, this is the most regret Billy has ever felt and shown.

An ambulance arrives a few minutes later, with Kevin just on the brink of death. They’re able to bring him into the ambulance, but unable to find what or who might have caused such a bloody mess. As they drive away to hopefully help Kevin stay alive, one of the bedroom doors open as Billy peeks out into the empty house. He hated it. The silence, the idea of being by himself, and that he actually committed an act of murder. What had he done? No…what did Sam make him do? Everyone else was dead or close to being dead. Everyone except him. And it hurt. But he couldn’t show that, of course he couldn’t. If he showed a sign of weakness, he’d only feel worse, and that wasn’t who he was. He had to keep pushing through these new conditions.

Something Kevin tried, but failed at doing. Trying to distract himself, Billy tries watching TV, because what else was there left to do to keep himself occupied? Unfortunately, hours later, it gets interrupted. Billy almost throws a “werewolf fit” bout it, but he couldn’t. His eyes were averted to someone else. At first he couldn’t recognize him, but that was Kevin. A ghostly apparition form of Kevin. This wasn’t a sick trick either, he didn’t make it. Literally floating, hair and body, he now had pure white eyes, wore a hospital outfit, but was still himself. He was lucky enough to have not become a violent or vengeful spirit, it was just him, but seemingly willing to put more effort into helping those who needed it despite the sarcastic tone he still had.

And that’s where the story caps off. This is how those 4 are now and their new life.

TLDR: Steven’s a mindless servant zombie to the Vampire Sam, who’s completely changed his attitude and view towards everything, behaving more like a traditional vampire. Billy is a werewolf who’s constantly fighting with the werewolf urges on a daily basis and against Sam’s wishes. Kevin is a phantom who’s the neutral-good towards anyone.

But now we can move onto a more silly AU! …ofc it still has angst but no bl0od this time!

2nd: Regretevator AU

Starts out relatively normal! Just the 4 of them going on a camping trip! …okay except for the rumors that there’s alien kidnappings, experimentation, and those who enter don’t come back…the same at least. Ofc Sam and Billy had a little disagreement and ofc it ended up with Billy’s vote mattering, so they go to the supposedly dangerous camp! And of course one there’s an alien kidnapping! The 4 start booking it, leaving most of their camping supplies there, but one of them don’t make it out in time. Billy, Steven, and Kevin make it to a safe area, but…hey where’d Sam go? …oh shit he’s getting abducted. The other three go to try and pull him out of the beam, but to no avail. The beam was stronger than the three of them combined, leading to Sam going into the UFO. Who knows what’s gonna happen to him? Well…he does. Kind of. He got to witness it all, but of course, that damn green cat was the cause of his new life. Xe put Sam into some kind of sleep, but with a kind of drug that didn’t look like any he could recall before passing out. But he wouldn’t be able to recall any of that anymore.

The other three, still in the camp waiting for him to come back, continuing their camping trip in silence. An hour passes and the UFO is back! It lands close by to them, and out comes two figures. One is the green cat, and xe’s holding something that looks human. It has yellow skin…a pink shirt……more accessories…..what the hell this isn’t the human xe kidnapped? Except yes it is. There’s the brown tank top underneath that pink shirt. There’s the shaggy and goatee, even if it looks a bit different. And his voice… despite it being extremely glitchy and compressed, it sounds like him. Turns out the cat just used something xe found at an apartment and tested it on Sam. Well…okay sure he looks different but, it’s still Sam!

The other three keep asking him things about what happened, if he’s okay, the typical. Except, he can’t recall. He’s a little off put by these faces. Who are these 3 guys and how do they know him? He doesn’t even know himself, he just feels, both overwhelmed and…silly? Well if the three talk it out with the green cat maybe they can get it to revert Sam back to norm- oh. The cat’s just left them behind. Great. Stuck with a curious “Sam” and three confused and concerned guys. Best thing they all can do is just go back to where they’re all living.

Over the last few months this…thing…resembles Sam less and less. He knew Kevin was a germaphobe, so why is he fine w/ being sick all the time and acting like it’s not a big deal? He used to keep Billy in check with his money, but now he’s the one spending all his money on decorations and internet related stuff, so how’s that fair? He used to get paranoid when Steven accidentally made a loud noise or spoke loudly, so why is he the loudest one out of the bunch? Especially when playing his games? It’s like he was the total opposite of what he’s supposed to be… He doesn’t even answer to Sam anymore, he has this weird name that isn’t even a name! He prefers to be called S4G3 because “1t c00l3r th4n d1s “S4M” n@m3”. He also has very colorful outfits, and it kind of hurts to look at.

So of course one day Billy grows extremely tired of this and goes to take matters into his in his own hands. He would have dragged Kevin with him, but for some reason he liked Kevin, despite Kevin not like him back. Doesn’t make sense either seeing how “S4G3” likes to spend time with Steven more. So Billy drags Steven along with him instead and leaves Kevin to deal with S4G3. Billy’s plan is to go back to the camp and be as stubborn as possible to get that green alien cat to change S4G3 back onto Sam and have Steven as backup.

Luckily first step of the plan worked. …can’t say that about the rest of the plan, because the green alien has something the other two don’t: an army and weapons. So wouldn’t you know it, they’re also on the chopping block for getting the “gnarpian” treatment. Except instead of whatever was used to create Sam into S4G3, Billy gets this…splinter? Oh and his legs cut off. And unfortunately, Steven watches the majority of that, but of course, there can’t be any witnesses, just experiment vessels. Steven gets a different treatment though, he just gets to listen to music… huh, odd. Hopefully this doesn’t alter his brain in anyway.

Well, another few hours go past, and Kevin is still not enjoying S4G3 company. So when he heard a knock at the door, he was relieved to answer it and ignore S4G3 for a minute or two. Except it was the green cat at the door and tossed the other two back into the apartment, threatening to not bother xe again or else he’d be next and it would be the worst experiment out of the 4 of them. So of course that puts enough fear into Kevin to not want to even talk to xem. …which is unfortunate because now instead of Billy and Steven returning, xe gave him a weird stylized wooden mannequin and Steven but with flashier clothes. …oh. They were also used for experiments. And they also behaved like S4G3 when he first came into existence. Confused and not like themselves. Steven wasn’t as bad, just extra and his personality revolved more around his music gig. Billy though? He’s barely stubborn anymore, he’s more compassionate and caring than rude. He’s also now a hard worker, even of said work is all about wood. That wouldn’t be too much of a problem if the equipment he used was so loud all the time and he wasn’t so confused and anxious majority of the time he interacted with the others.

Great. Something more bothersome for Kevin to suck up and deal with for who knows how long.

TLDR: Sam became Infected ripoff, Billy became Mark ripoff, Steven became a Brock ripoff (even though they’re both music lovers, not much there was changed), and Kevin is…Kevin. (This Kevin isn’t 20 years later in a bad way Kevin, more of Inadvertent Hero Kevin)

Okay! Now back to our regularly scheduled angst!

3rd: Hacker AU

Ever wondered how you could access the outside barriers on the EKH RP game, or wondered what’s the other houses like, but they’re just beyond your reach? Yeah, so did this Sam…in a way.

The day of the house fire. It starts like normal. Billy sticking gum in Kevin’s hair at school, Kevin telling on Him, Billy dragging Sam along to try and get aid to Egg Kevin’s House. The little kid Sam this time though, was getting deja vu, like he’s done this before… but regardless, he declines. Of course he does. He can’t damage his friend’s house! And there it goes. Up in flames. With a woman screaming from inside it. And there they both go, running from it. 20 years later happens. At the burnt house of his old friend’s. To make a video with his two other friends. They go in and out of the house, night after night, and it still feels all too familiar. But, it’s just gotta be that feeling you get…and don’t listen to. They come across Kevin…the basement gets lit on fire. The two of thEm escape, and Kevin is spared. Once they start running, everything goes black.

The day of the house fire. It starts like normaL. Billy sticking gum in Kevin’s hair at school, Kevin telling on him, Billy dragging Sam along to try and get aid to Egg Kevin’s House. Hasn’t she done this before? Who knows. She begrudgingly helps Billy to Egg Kevin’s House. And there it goes. Up in flames. With a woman screaming from inside it. And there they both go, running from it. 20 years later happens. At the burnt house of her old friend’s. To make a video with his two other friends. They go in and out of the house, night after night, and…again, this feels all too recognizable. She could have sworn she’s done this before…maybe it was just a segment of that nightmare she had and just now remembering. …so why did she see herself as a guy? Dreams can be weird. They come across Kevin…the basement gets lit on fire. The two of them escape, and Kevin is…killed. Once they start running, everything goes bLack.

The day of the house fire. It starts…with Sam trying tO backtrack. He really doesn’t want to be here, especially with Billy in his cranky kid mood. But it’s hard to. Why can’t he go back where he came from? He keeps pushing against the invisible force., all while Billy is calling out to Sam that he looks silly and not in a good way. Sam keeps pushing and pushing and pushing, he so desperately doesn’t want anything bad to happen to any of them. After some more pushing, he finally is allowed out of Kevin’s house area…and into a black void? Where’d he go? Where were the other houses? Turns out the idea he had was more scary than actual being called a coward by his friend Billy. …Billy wasn’t around either. Where-

The panicking kicks into high gear once he spots a group of infamous figures, dubbed hackers. Trouble making, rumor spreading creature criminals that ranged from not-so-chaoTic, like John Doe to “should be killed for their crimes”, like 1x1x1x1. And speaking of 1x1x1x1, right behind the child Sam was said hacker, who already knew who they were. They both had a chat, Sam scared of what was going on, like, extremely scared.. he wanted his…parents? …he doesn’t recall having those, let alone their names. It then turned into a kind of vent session after JoHn told 1x1x1x1 to calm themselves and let the child speak their mind. So after the vent session 1x1x1x1 went off the walls a bit and told them none of that was real. John couldn’t zip them up on time, so that lead the little child to be shocked and confused. That’s when the entirety of life was spilled to the child Sam. First was showing they only had four total “models”: Male & FemalE child and adult “models”. After altering the little male Sam child into their adult “model” so they could get a better understanding of all of this, 1x1x1x1 lead them to the gender option screen, and let Sam at it. He hesitates to select the female, but when she selects it, things start to click; she wasn’t in control of anything. Back and forth, male - female -male -female, they couldn’t believe even simple things weren’t up to them. Finally fed up with their identity crisis, just slammed their fist against both choices, and something felt different at that point, but it didn’t matter. Nothing at that point didn’t matter. 1x1x1x1 still had more to spill though. Billy, Steven, Kevin, the nurse, all of those people, none of them were real. Whereas Sam could think multiple things, it was said they all “went with the flow” with whateveR came out Sam’s mouth. Sam could sometimes move wherever they wanted, the others had a path. The more information Sam learnt, the more they hated everything and everyone around them, growing distant from the character they were made out to bE.

With all of that learned, 1x1x1x1 finally put them to a test. They sent them to Night 1, when the three of them were standing outside the house. The other two discussing about making a video, and Sam just standing there, looking upset in an angered type of way. This lead to the other two asking what was the matter with Sam, with nothing being said. So of course, it was taken as the “…” option, which lead to Sam snapping in a violent way. The world around them started to crumble while they seemingly spewing nonsense, saying how “they don’t actually care” and “you guys aren’t real”. The area around the three of them getting worse and worse, opening up to static and void, even opening Kevin’s house showing how confused he is. It’s getting harder and harder to balance on the broken streets, grass, overall land beneath the other 3. Billy starts hoping around on different platforms, trying to reach Sam and trying to “reason” with them. He screwed up with one question when he reaches Sam and states “Try and calm down. This isn’t like you at all, what’s gotten into you?” Sam then stops dwelling for that moment, turns to look at Billy, with the most angered face they have ever put on, and goes on to tell him that they finally realize that everyone and everything around them was the problem, and they’re finally realizing it. But of course, Billy has to go on and rub salt into the wound, by stating that right now, thanks to Sam, they’re causing most of the issue, which, while true, isn’t what they needed, leading to their hands sparking, resembling the colors of 1x1x1x1 as if their influence finally rubbed onto Sam themself. Nothing this, Sam goes in for a brutal beating to their so-called friend, and causes him to go completely red, literally. He starts glitching out, unable to speak, turning the color red, until he finally falls to the ground like a ragdoll. But oh no, they can’t just stop at Billy. In a fit of rage, they start to approach the other two who are just staring in horror. The next one to get “killed off” is Steven while Kevin makes a run for it. Or, at least he tries to. The terrain around him is hard to navigate, but just as Steven’s being finished off, Sam is finishing him off, they catch sight of Kevin and teleport right in front of him, saying how they’ll feel little remorse for erasing Kevin, but not enough to not do it. And just before erasing Kevin, he’s able to ask why and how. Sam swiftly explains how they don’t like their emotions being toyed with. Not anymore at least.

They’re all glitched out corpses now. There’s still more to erase to, but not before having another chat w/ 1x1x1x1, being encouraged to keep it up, because of how much more freeing it is. Except, unfortunately, it can only be done in the “world” of Egg Kevin’s House, because you’d never see a Sam outside that game, ever. But hey, at least they can do whatever they want in that world, toy w/ the other 3, and dress differently instead of the same brown attire (in which the outfit was gifted by John Doe). It didn’t look like much, but that was because it was an older outfit. Still, the newly named 1nS4Mity is a free roaming semi-hacker in their world of Egg Kevin’s House.

TLDR: This is just a 4th wall breaker type of AU, but w/ angst and hackers.

Okay! Last 3! I have been typing the ones above for….about 6 hours now. I’m dead serious 😭 But luckily! These next ones don’t have too much of a story to them (yet(?)), so this should be quick and easy!

4th: 7 Deadly Sins

Honestly I just did this one for two reasons: 1, I like the idea of 7 deadly sins. It can be fun to mess w/ imo. 2, it had been a while since I made an AU, so my mind just came up w/ this idea

Basically, the more a person acts like their ideal sins, the more likely they are to become said sin. In order:

Kevin becomes Wrath after loathing about his mother’s death in his house

Billy becomes Greed after making clickbait video after clickbait video and it actually working and gaining him some revenue

Soon after, Steven, being Pride. He believes that w/o his help, Billy’s ideas would be absolutely garbage.

And lastly, Sam, becoming Sloth. A mix of depression and not needing to do much while the others are doing what they do as sinful entities, so he just decides to sleep in, day after day after day after day..and yeah.

5th: {No real AU name for this}

Soooo this is a goofy one, and I mean, goofy. It’s a crossover of my two favorite Roblox games w/ a dash of their worst endings, this being Warmonger for EKH, and Monster for Overnight (iirc). (If you haven’t watched/played Overnight, highly recommended as there’s spoilers for this game in this AU)

Basically a little after the Warmonger ending, it clicks w/ Sam that this whole “killing people off hobby” is oddly therapeutic, and if Billy isn’t around to judge him, then he could do whatever he wanted, even breaking the law! So he basically becomes this gleeful ball of madness, killing anyone and everyone off in creative ways, while also having this demon as a sort of sidekick (it’s taken the role watching out for Sam (or Warmonger as he prefers) in case he ends up in a prison or almost dead).

6th and most recent one: Pirates AU

It should be obvious what this is about. Now since it’s new, I can’t share a shortened version of the story as I don’t fully have one, but I can share the fact that Billy is the captain of his crew, with Sam being second captain, Steven being the one to help Billy get his crew, and Kevin ………………..

There’s also the side characters in this actually!

The news reporter still being that, just old timey, Nurse Adam’s being a siren now, and the fire fighter being a ghost pirate captain. :D

Oh also Billy prefers others to be called Captain Billy for his crew, and William for strangers/enemies, Sam is Samuel and hates the shortened version of his name, Steven being Stephen, and Kevin still being Kevin lmao.

OKAY, ALL DONE, FINALLY, IM ALL DONE TYOINF ALL THAT OH MY GOD THAT WAS SO LONG 😭

But I still have artworks to show off, one for each AU, but trust me, I have alloooottt of art on these AUs, and more to come, so if this does well I’ll show more! Most likely on Twt first tho

1st: Virus AU

2nd: Regretevator AU

3rd: Hacker AU

4th: Deadly Sins AU

5th: Unnamed AU

6th: Pirate AU

[laurfilijames]

Like My Dreams

Part 2

Pete Dunham Masterlist

Intro Part 1

Pairing: Pete Dunham x female reader

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: 18+. Swearing. Alcohol consumption. Use of pain medication. Mentions of fighting/violence/hooliganism. Sexual tension/alluding to oral sex. Car accident resulting in a concussion, broken ribs, cuts/bruises. Mentions of stitches.

Summary: The days that followed meeting Pete consist of a blur of exciting moments of getting to know each other and growing feelings, and just when things start to really develop between you, a wrench is thrown in to disrupt it all but also drives home how precious life and love are.

A/N: Not much to say other than my love for Pete grows every day along with my drive to give him the justice he deserves! Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!! This film has a very small fan base so I'd love to chat with anyone who enjoys it as much as I do 💗

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Pete Dunham.

The name turned over in your head again and again as he walked toward you, his limp less noticeable in his slightly cocky strut, and you nearly asked Fiona to pinch you in order to help you comprehend the reality of this.

Your eyes locked with his as soon as you noticed him, your surprise at seeing him there dressing your face, and you could easily see his own shock at you being Fiona's friend quickly morph into amusement.

"Well, look who we have here," he drawled. "I've either died and gone to heaven or someone is taking the piss."

You tilted your head, "Why would that be?"

"First of all, you show up in my class, and now you're standing in my pub. I already cheated death once, so I really can't figure out how else I'd be seeing you twice in one day."

"Is that a bad thing?"

He flashed you that same smile you had been picturing all day and shook his head slowly back and forth, "Oh, no."

"Good."

You could feel everyone else's eyes on you, watching the exchange between you and him, and yet all you could focus on were those blue eyes that seemed like they were staring into your soul.

"So this beautiful woman is both one of my student's aunts and Fiona's best mate?" he asked, to no one in particular.

You nodded, confirming his inquiries while chewing on your lower lip.

"Fuck me," he muttered under his breath, the simple but fully-charged words making you shiver.

"And you're not only the beloved Mr. Dunham, but also the infamous top bloke of the GSE?" you asked, finding your voice.

His eyebrows raised high on his forehead, "Have you been asking about me?"

"I might've been."

He let out a sort of growl and licked his lips, "Well then, I guess there's no use in denying any of it."

His hand was now outstretched between you, allowing you a better look of his long fingers than you had this morning, noticing the middle one was adorned with a gold ring, wild thoughts of how they might feel against your skin causing you to hesitate while he stood waiting for you to make contact in a handshake. You did so assuredly after taking a steadying breath to regain your composure, the confidence you seemed to radiate while being in his presence like nothing you had experienced before.

You gave him your name as your hands lingered, the tone of your voice holding onto something low and lusty, "It's nice to officially meet you, Pete."

The way you looked at him and the sound of his name falling off your tongue made him want to crash into you and kiss you right then, and although he was confident you would've welcomed it, he took a deep breath and willed his patience to come through.

Setting his empty glass on the bar, he declined another with the shake of his head when Terry offered a refill, turning his attention immediately back to you after disrupting it briefly. There weren't many times in Pete's life that he had turned down pints, and even if he hadn't taken a pain pill earlier, he still would refuse drinking another one, the thought of clouding this euphoria he felt in seeing you again something he wouldn't be able to forgive himself for. The high he was experiencing beat any scrap or victory by the Hammers, and he silently vowed to give it all up tomorrow and be sober as a judge if it meant living and breathing the same air as you.

The endless days spent alone in his hospital bed gave Pete more than enough time to assess his life and think about his future, something he never really paid any mind to aside from when the next match was and who him and the boys would be up against, but those lonely moments had brought on a harsh realization that maybe he was missing something. He often envied seeing families pass by his room with arms full of gifts and treats to help their loved ones feel better, his smile fading as he grasped the fact that no one other than his brother and his mates occasionally stopped by to check in on him and make sure he hadn't done a runner, but he was grateful he even had that. With their dad long passed away and their mum living too far to warrant frequent visits, Pete began to consider what it would be like to have someone else in his life who cared about him, someone who could fill the space in his heart that up until then had been occupied solely by football and all the senseless nonsense that came along with it.

Those curiosities only increased when he was dismissed and staying with Steve and Shannon, having watched them rekindle their love for each other carefully and tenderly; her decision to stay and make things work solidified when the second Dunham brother had found his life gripped tightly in Death's hands.

He had promised himself that he would make it all count now, not wanting to waste the time that was given to him, and after meeting you he knew he wasn't going to let anything good slip through his fingers.

"Can I take you out sometime?" he suddenly blurted, the question tumbling out of his mouth on its own accord.

The gorgeous smile that seemed like a permanent fixture on your face grew while his did the same, and he felt his heart hammer in his chest as a fury of nerves burst through him as he waited for your answer to his question that now seemed completely mental.

"Yes," you giggled, your disbelief clear by the shake of your head and raise of your eyebrows. "I would love that."

Pete let out a nervous laugh and ran his hand over his head, the rush of relief and excitement he felt making him almost dizzy as he glanced around at the humored faces of his mates standing around him.

"Sweet," he said, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth as he turned his focus back to you. "Is tonight too soon?"

Reluctant goodbye's were finally said after you exchanged phone numbers with Pete, having Fiona essentially drag you out of the pub behind her, finding you were unwilling and nearly unable to peel yourself away from Pete.

He was incredibly charming and sweet, and you struggled to push down the feeling in your stomach you were certain that you had never felt so intensely before.

Fiona sighed dramatically as the door of the pub slammed shut behind you, her exasperation only fuelling you to smile even more.

"You two!" she cursed, grabbing your arms and shaking you as you lifted your hands up to your face to cup your own cheeks as you began laughing.

"My cheeks hurt!"

"No bloody wonder," she said with the roll of her eyes. "You've been grinning like a loon all night!"

Fiona released her grip on you and began walking in the direction of her house, leaving you standing looking at the door, half tempted to go back inside.

"Don't you DARE make me regret this!" she hollered, prompting you to move your feet and follow her down the road.

You ran a few steps to catch up, linking your arm in hers to help you keep in time with her quick and determined pace.

"Oh, come on, Fi! Besides, we met each other first without anybody's assistance," you reminded her, thinking back to hours ago when Pete looked just as heavenly in the morning sun shining through his classroom windows as he did in the dim light of The Abbey.

"Swill is gutted," she said dramatically.

You tapped her arm with your hand, "Oh, stop! He is not! Nothing has even happened…" you trailed off, thinking of all the things that were hopefully going to happen.

"The church is booked and the cake is being made as we speak. Oh! And listen…" she paused, stopping in her tracks and putting her finger to her ear, "There's the wedding bells…"

A week had passed since meeting Pete, those seven days filled with a joy you couldn't recall having experienced to that extent, each moment spent with him blissful and ecstatically happy.

Pete had an exuberance about him that was truly infectious, reflecting onto you and anyone around him like a drug, his liveliness noticed by everyone.

You admired him now, watching as he laughed with Terry, sharing a joke that made his lips spread so wide on his face that his cheeks creased the way you had quickly discovered you loved.

Beer spilled over the side of the pint glass as he handed it to you, the warmth of his fingers contrasting to that of the beer as they brushed with yours, his blue eyes alight with the same vigor that showed in his smile.

"Cheers, babe," he winked, clinking his glass with yours hard enough it made even more beer splash off the top of it and down his hand, his eyes still fixed on you as he brought it up to his mouth and licked the mess off his skin with a broad sweep of his smooth and incredibly alluring tongue. It was like he knew everything you were thinking, the mischief in his eyes confirming that this move of his was a subtle tell of meaning more, and flashing you another playful wink, he glanced up to the screen with the match on, making your heart flip in your chest and leaving you aching to discover everything his mouth was capable of.

So far it had all been just like this; hanging out at The Abbey with him, the lads and Fi, slowly getting to know each other amidst the normalcy of the GSE's scheduled meet-ups, your heart growing its affection toward him the more you were in his presence.

"I'd love to go one day," you shouted, loud enough Pete would hear you over the busy crowd surrounding you.

Shock, and mostly amusement crossed his features, his eyes twinkling while his lips curled into an even bigger grin, the stretch making the cut on the lower one split open and start bleeding again.

"You've never been?"

"To a West Ham match? No!" you returned his smile, unable to help yourself. "My uncle is an Arsenal fan. I've been to one game in my whole life."

Pete looked at you with astoundment, an exaggerated expression that bordered on being genuine dressing his gorgeous face.

"Tell me you're not a Gooner…"

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, ignoring the inquisition, unsure if being an Arsenal supporter out of default was worse than not paying attention to the sport hardly at all.

"He brought me once because I begged him! He was so nervous about taking me because it was too dangerous…thanks to hooligans like you!" You touched his arm flirtatiously, feeling his muscles flex while he watched you with an expression you couldn't place.

"One game?"

You nodded, taking a sip of your beer.

He licked his lips, increasing your ache for wanting to do that yourself, glancing up at the telly before back at you.

"Right, we're going Saturday."

"Really?"

"Really."

He held your gaze for a beat, making your heart feel like it stopped completely, and you dared to bring your hand up to his face, using your thumb to swipe away the blood that clung to the corner of his lip.

Pete hung his arm around your shoulders, pulling you into his side, the temptation he felt to kiss you making him feel antsy enough he had to take another long drink of his pint to distract from it.

Everything buzzed around you.

It was unclear if it was because you were with him, or it was just the enthusiasm of the stadium that had you feeling this way, but it felt like the most exciting thing you had ever been a part of as you walked down the concrete steps to the GSE's designated seats.

"Can I at least buy the beers after?" you asked, feeling slightly guilty in knowing how much these boys forked out for the seats.

Pete laughed heartily, "Fuck, no! You're my date! I refuse to let you pay for a single thing when this was all my idea."

He smiled at you before looking out onto the pitch proudly, allowing you another chance to admire him just as you did any other time the opportunity arose, his features something you swore could have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself.

"Besides," he grinned, "It's Swill's turn to buy all the rounds after the game…"

"'S not!" Swill shouted, his scowl making Pete's grin shine even more, his pleased chuckle at riling up his mate mixing in with the noise of the crowd.

An argument broke out between Swill, Ike and Dave about who owed what in terms of beer and exactly how many rounds were left unsettled, leaving you and Pete to lose yourselves in each other, leaning in close to talk, the start of the match very unimportant as his hand rested on your thigh and his gaze lingered on your lips.

With the Hammers having won, everyone was in bright spirits, and you knew as you walked through the congested crowd with your hand entwined in Pete's that you would've felt the same even if they had lost, the charged glances he was continuously flashing sparking the growing need inside you to uncover all the pleasurable things that were possible.

The two of you lagged behind while the other boys walked on ahead in the direction of the pub, allowing softer moments shared without notice, Pete pausing in his confident strides to search your eyes with his vibrantly blue ones while his smile split his face.

"Did you have a good time?"

"I did," you assured, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth.

"No dangerous hooligans to scare you off?" he teased.

"Not a single one…"

His laugh turned into a sort of growl as his own lip tucked in his teeth, his head turning in the direction of his mates before whipping back to you.

"You sure about that?"

You nodded. "I'm not scared, Pete…"

He was about to kiss you, leaning in to dip his face beside yours, until Swill's voice echoed through the tunnel and stopped him in his tracks.

"Oi! Fuck head! 'S your round, Pete, ya cunt!"

"Fucking Christ…" Pete muttered, pulling away from you reluctantly. "I may kill him one day."

You laughed, causing his frustration to grow into a chuckle, and he grabbed your hand and started walking again, nodding in the direction of the others with another beaming smile.

"Come on."

It had been three days since last seeing Pete, the amount that you missed him equalling the excitement you felt about seeing him tonight when you would go out on your first 'proper date' as he had called it.

Everything was up to him when it came to the plans, the only thing revealed to you so far that he was taking you to a lush Italian restaurant he had made reservations at, and that he was picking you up from Fiona's at seven.

Butterflies had made themselves busy in your stomach since the moment your alarm woke you up, and as you drove Jack to school now, they increased even more in knowing there was a small chance of seeing him outside as he went into work.

"Are you coming for tea tonight?" Jack asked, his hopeful voice making you feel guilty before even telling him no. "Mum's making that chicken dish you love so much."

"Ahh, of course she is! But sadly, I can't tonight, little lad," you gently explained, pulling up to a traffic light. "I'm actually going on a date…"

Your words trailed off as you glanced in the rearview mirror at him, waiting for his reaction, which came as you had expected in the form of a disgusted scowl.

"A date? Ew!"

You laughed as you looked back at the road, lifting your foot off the brake and onto the gas pedal to start accelerating as the light turned green, appreciating your nephew being in this stage where boys and girls still viewed each other as gross.

"Oh, come on!" you pleaded. "I think you'd like him…"

He scoffed and looked out the window as you peeked at him again briefly.

"Better be a West Ham supporter…" he muttered.

You bit your lip. "Oh, he is, don't worry!"

You debated telling him that his beloved teacher was your date, not wanting him to feel awkward or have it change his opinions on him, but sensing how well things were going between you, Jack was going to find out eventually anyway.

Opening your mouth to admit your little secret, your words were cut off as a car slammed into the side of yours, a gasp being forced out instead as all the wind was knocked out of your lungs, the sound dying in the deafening noise of metal crashing together and tires screeching on asphalt.

Your body was jostled violently, your head smacking hard against the window and then into the deployed airbag that felt like hitting a rock, hearing yourself desperately scream Jack's name before everything was dark and silent.

Consciousness returned to you briefly, your body overcome with pain as it slowly registered in your brain that struggled to comprehend what was happening, your head throbbing and feeling like it had been split in two.

All you could hear through the sound of a consistent, blaring horn was Jack crying, his sobs ringing in your ears in a piercing and terrified way that had you trying with all you had to turn around in your seat to get to him.

Sharp pain shot through your entire right side, making you black out again, the sound of your name being screamed in the petrified and pained howls of your nephew the last thing you could comprehend.

A nauseating grogginess filled you as you slowly opened your eyes, hearing the low hum of a machine and a soft, but incessant beeping that seemed to come from everywhere around you at once, the recollection of the accident barrelling to the forefront of your delayed mind as panic and worry threatened to make you ill.

"Hey, hey, you're alright," Pete's soothing voice greeted you, the worry in his blue eyes as he stood beside your bed outshining the look of comfort he was attempting to give you.

"Jack?" you croaked, looking at him desperately, immediately needing the answer to the question you couldn't even form.

"He's fine," he assured, his long fingers wrapping over your hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Just a bit banged up and scared, but he's good as."

Pete smiled gingerly at you as your body sank back into the bed, hot tears rolling down your cheeks uncontrollably, the relief you felt battling against the guilt and fault that filled you at having put your nephew in danger.

"'S alright…" he cooed, a pain filling his eyes at seeing you hurt and upset, his thumbs carefully moving up to your face to wipe away your tears that ran through the dry blood speckling your skin.

Your head tilted into his palm, embracing the closeness and warmth of him, feeling yourself calm slightly as he brought his forehead down to rest against yours, his exhale blowing on your lips that were wet from the stream of tears making you let out your own steadying breath.

Pete could barely stand it, the worry and heartache that grew to be ruthlessly persistent tearing through his entire body from the moment he found out about your accident, and even though he knew you were okay, it lingered with as much intensity that it had started out with.

All he could think about was how close he had come to getting everything he had dreamt of, only to have it almost be ripped away from him in a matter of seconds.

The lump in his throat threatened to give way as he sat there with you, hoping to convey everything he felt for you without actually saying it, reminding himself that you hadn't even officially established any sort of relationship.

"I'll go get Jack for you then, yeah?" he whispered, peeling himself away from you reluctantly. "He's been gunning to get in to see you."

You nodded and used your own hands to clear your tears this time, hoping you looked somewhat presentable given the circumstances and not banged up enough to scare him even more.

"Don't worry," he said with a smile, "he's already seen you through the window, refused to rest until he saw for himself that you were alright."

Pete stood from the chair that he had scooted to be as close to the bed as possible, that familiar, cheeky look appearing on his face as he added, "You're still gorgeous as ever. Plus, I think the cuts and bruises are sexy."

He winked at you before he turned and exited the room, leaving you alone for a moment that had you instantly wishing for him to be back with you.

A smile broke out on your face as you listened to them approach your room, their banter making you laugh despite it hurting to do so.

"Mate…you're mental if you think for a second that your bruises look harder than mine," Pete teased Jack.

"Nuh uh! Look at this one! And this cut needed ten stitches!" Jack bragged as he pointed to various wounds on his arms and face, his pridefulness in his injuries telling you he was truly okay.

"Yeah, yeah, tough guy," Pete jokingly waved off, opening the door to your room to let Jack burst through it at a run. He slowed when he reached you, reining in his excitement so he didn't hurt you, giving you a once-over as he tried to decide whether or not it was okay to hug you.

"Come here," you softly ordered, opening your arms to welcome his small frame.

He carefully brought his body against yours, his arms wrapping around your neck rather than your torso, burying his head into your neck where you kissed his hair and then ruffled it with your fingers, the gratitude you felt to be able to hold your sweet nephew making you choke up again.

Jack was crying too, his body moving with each sob, him answering every repeated apology that spilled out of your mouth with a squeaky 'it's okay'.

When he eventually pulled himself away from you, you looked at him with a smile, fixing his hair by brushing through it with your fingers.

"How cross is your mum with me?"

Jack laughed and shook his head, "She's not. She's been crying the whole time being so worried about you."

You nodded, knowing if you spoke that your words would come out shaky and weak, needing a moment to take in the battered face of the boy who had stolen your heart from the second he was born.

“You look like you've been scrapping with the GSE,” you complimented, watching him light up at the thought of it.

Exhaustion took over you quickly, the visit with Jack soon followed by your sister sucking what little energy you had right out of you, and once the doctor had been in to explain your injuries and their severity to you, you were completely drained.

A concussion and three cracked ribs were the worst of your wounds, the rest consisting of bumps and bruises amongst cuts that had appeared in your skin from shards of glass slicing through it, all adding up to result in you having to stay for at least another day for monitoring.

Pete came back into the room after the doctor had left, wanting to see you one more time before the last minutes of visiting hours had run up.

“How d’you feel?” he asked, taking his seat again in the chair beside you and leaning close, automatically reaching out to hold your hand.

“Tired. Sore. Overwhelmed,” you paused and looked at him seriously, “Like I was hit by a car.” You said it with a strained laugh, but it quickly died out into a sigh, the pain caused from it reminding you of what else was causing you grief. “Mostly disappointed…”

“Disappointed?” Pete echoed, his brows knitting together.

“Our date…”

He hummed, bringing your entwined hands up to his lips where he ran them over your knuckles back and forth.

“I was really looking forward to it,” you murmured, an overall sinking feeling coming over you.

“Me too,” he admitted. “But I promise you that I will make up for it a million times over once we’re able to.”

“I'll hold you to that, Mr. Dunham.”

He grinned at you confidently, shifting in his seat to sit back in it a little straighter.

“Speaking of…Jack had a lot of questions as to why I was here.”

You nodded, tucking your lip in your teeth as you looked down at your hand still being held in his. “He asked me, too.”

“So, Mr. Dunham is your boyfriend?” Jack asked with a twisted face.

“Not my boyfriend…but who I was going on the date with. We've been hanging out a bit.”

He was quiet for a minute, clearly processing the news.

"Look, Jack, if that makes you uncomfortable I don't have to see him, he's your teacher-"

“Are you gonna get married or summat?” he blurted, cutting you off.

You didn't know how to respond, your head pulsing with every thought that passed through it, the pain medication not helping you articulate things easily.

"I- no?"

Jack smiled, the awkward mix of baby and adult teeth on full display always making you love to see it more.

"I'd be okay with it."

Pete caught your smile as you recalled your earlier conversation, his own grin spreading out to crease his cheeks despite not knowing the reason behind yours.

“What's got you smiling like that?”

“Nothing,” you fibbed. “Just something Jack said. He's quite pleased about this.” You motioned between you and Pete with your finger, the morphine in your veins nearly making you bold enough to tell him exactly what was said.

Giving you a suspicious look, Pete was about to open his mouth and respond with what you knew would be something cheeky, only to be interrupted by a nurse knocking on the door and striding into the room on a mission.

“Visiting hours are up,” she announced, glaring at him before turning her attention back down to your chart.

Pete raised his eyebrows at her, but chose not to make any remarks, standing up with a sigh. “Right. I'll be back tomorrow then, yeah? Bust you out of here.”

He winked when the nurse shot her head up, clearly unimpressed by his intentions even if it was a joke.

“You don't have to-”

“Bollocks. Anything you need you just ring me, yeah?”

He dipped down close to you, his brilliantly coloured eyes searching your features with the same seriousness that showed in them earlier. “You sure you’re going to be alright?”

“Yeah, I’ll be okay,” you said, although with little surety. “Thank you, Pete.”

The look you gave him made him want to fight in order to be able to stay with you, the memories of his own experience of being stuck and alone and in pain in this same hospital striking a nerve in him, but he knew there was nothing he could do to get his way and accepted the defeat.

“‘Course, darling,” he whispered, pressing his lips to your forehead where he let them linger. “Get some rest, eh. I'll see you tomorrow.”

Pete stepped into the hallway and rested his back against the door after it closed behind him, shutting his eyes and exhaling a deep breath. As much as he hated being back here, having to relive every horrible moment spent confined in the small walls of the room that had been his home for many excruciating months, he would return day after day for you until you were able to be released.

He zipped his jacket up to his chin and pushed off the door, preparing himself to brace the brisk, night air when he got outside, praying you would be well enough to go home tomorrow.

It terrified him a bit to feel as strongly for you as he already did, an anxiety he hadn't ever felt so intensely settling in his chest like a knot since he got the call from Fiona that you had been in an accident, but Pete knew that he would take this worry any day as a consequence of caring for someone this much.

Steve and even the lads would probably tell him he was rushing into things, to take it slow, but after today he refused to waste another minute of the second chance he was given not letting his heart have the things it had missed out on up until now.

The sliding doors opened and he passed through them into the fresh temperature, taking a deep breath to try to rid his lungs of that medicinal, stale hospital air, instantly feeling revived despite there being various people standing outside the entrance smoking.

His body felt achy and stiff, his limp ever-present as he began walking in the direction of his flat, becoming aware of how tense he had been all day, his stress coming to show with each step.

He had to smile though, thinking of how good it was going to be when he could finally take you on that date, a million ideas of how he could spoil you rushing through his mind.

His phone rang in his pocket, making him pause in his uneven steps to pull it out to quiet the chimey ringtone, answering a call from Swill.

"Aye, aye," he answered solemnly, his usual upbeat tone absent in his greeting.

"You coming for a pint?"

Pete winced, hesitating in his answer, contemplating how he felt.

"Nah, mate, I don't think so."

"Come on! It's Friday night, you wanker. You could use a beer after today."

Pete chuckled lightly, "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'm just knackered, mate. Gonna call it a night and try to get back to the hospital at a decent time tomorrow."

"Yeah, alright. Fi said she's going first thing and hopes to bring her home."

"I bloody hope so," Pete said quietly and mostly to himself.

"You alright, Peg Leg?" Swill asked, a rare seriousness sounding in his voice.

"Brilliant…" he huffed. "Just a bit worried, yeah?" he admitted, kicking a stone with his pristinely white trainers before he continued walking.

"Rightly so, mate. We all see how you feel 'bout 'er, clear as day."

Pete smiled despite feeling on the verge of cracking, the pressure building behind his eyes becoming too much too suddenly that he rubbed them aggressively with his finger and thumb to try to wane it away.

"She'll be alright, Pete…" Swill filled the silence, having sensed the reason behind him being so quiet.

"Yeah, she will be."

"You know where we'll all be if you change your mind, eh?"

"Yeah, mate, thanks."

"See you tomorrow."

"Yeah, cheers."

Pete let his phone snap closed and tucked it back in his pocket, the heaviness of how precious and fleeting life was weighing on him, each uneven step reminding him of the near miss he'd had to never experiencing something like this and solidifying that he wasn't about to let a good thing slip through his fingers.

---

Part 3

Taglist:

@stealfromthedevil @theesirenteller @inbar-thomas1980 @lilac13

[vixensheart]

Learn how to get on the fast track to Heaven!

Redemption for Dummies is a comprehensive sinner's guide to getting into Heaven's good graces. This brand new edition has all the insights of how to navigate vices, avoid temptation, and practice empathy for the people around you. With deep explanations on a life of sin and regret, Husk the former Gambling Demon presents the reasons to seek redemption---with the help of Hell's princess herself, of course! Get the working knowledge you need to seek redemption today!

Or, how Husk finally finds himself on the path to Heaven.

. . . . . . . . . . . . .

Husk laid on the floor, staring unseeing at the ceiling. One hand gripped a bottle of hooch. The other splayed on the thick carpet. He didn’t know what time it was. Who fucking cared? Time was unimportant. Meaningless. Useless.  

Just like him. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, a shuddering breath sawing through him. Something hot and wet blazed down his cheek. Husk lurched upright enough to bring the bottle of hooch to his lips, gulping the foul liquid down like a man dying of thirst—it burned the whole way down. The bottle fell from his fingers after, thunking onto the floor. Empty. Useless. So goddamn useless. Husk flopped back onto the carpet, ignoring the ache in his wings. The room spun. He closed his eyes, sank into the sensation. It wasn’t enough to distract Husk from the emptiness radiating from his hollow chest. He blinked, vision a bleary smear of color, and frowned. Fuck, he needed more. Maybe if he drank enough, he’d finally fill that goddamned hole. 

Maybe he’d stop the hurt. 

Husk twisted, teeth gritting and vision fraying and stitching back together again, and lurched unsteadily for a nearby bottle. It wasn’t full. He didn’t care. He just knocked it back, body swaying, room spinning and spinning. 

A knock cut through the silence. Husk gripped the bottle of hooch tight and squinted. He didn’t answer. Or move. There was another knock. A distant rustle. 

“Husk?” a voice asked. “Um, we missed you at breakfast. Again. Just…there’s leftovers in the fridge, if you want!” 

Footsteps receded in a faint whisper of sound. Husk slumped back onto the floor. Food, eh? When was the last time he actually ate? He didn’t remember. He wasn’t hungry, now, either. Not unless he counted the insatiable need to forget, to ease this agony rending his soul in two. But, that was a tall order for a man who’d spent the better part of his existence staring down the bottom of a bottle. The best he could manage was bringing it all to a dull throb, an ache, an overwhelming emptiness threatening to hollow him from the inside out. 

Husk was pretty fucking used to feeling empty, inside. That was why he chose the name he did. 

Husk. An empty shell. Hollow. 

Just like him. 

Forever and fucking always. 

It was laughable to think he could ever be anything more. 

📖

New fic, who dis? Lol, check out the rest on Ao3!

[zer0brainc3lls]

i bet on losing dogs pt3

masterlist

story summary: what if newtmas was canon in the death cure and there was a plot change?

word count: 6256

TW LIST: graphic depictions of gore, (stab wounds, gun shot wounds etc), use of tranquilizer, mentions of death and torture, mentions of cannibalism (no acts of cannibalism is made but it is mentioned.), depictions of extreme shock. (if i missed any let me know!! :D)

authors note at the end :)

Newt doesn't register it for a moment, the hunger in Thomas's eyes. Not the hunger that dances in his iris’s the moment before their lips touch, no this is different. Newt has seen those eyes before, Glassy and pure black. If the eyes are the windows to the soul, it makes sense that cranks have eyes that look frosted over. Thomas' eyes mirror opaque glass that so many sidelights have, and when someone walks to answer your knocking you can barely make out how it is. That's how Newt feels now as he makes eye contact with the boy he would trust with every fiber of his being, he used to be able to look into Thomas’s eyes like windows and see exactly what was on his mind at any given moment so matter how hard Thomas tried to close the blinds. 

But the flare has fogged Thomas’s windows, the flare has closed the blinds on Newt and it is absolutely terrifying. 

After a moment Newt remembers the situation he's in, and the fact that he isn't Thomas. He scrambles to his feet like a baby sheep, and as if that display of weakness alone set off something deep and primal off in the boy before him, the brunette lunges for Newt, his oil covered teeth bared in fury. He somehow manages to get a hold of Newt before he could even get his footing and now is straddling the blonde as presses his nails deep into Newts cheeks and drags from Newts cheek bone all the way down to his jaw, Newt grips onto thomas’s wrists as he desperately tries to hold the Brunettes hands away. But it's no use, The infected boy has gathered every last drop of his predatory strength for the sole purpose of ripping Newt's face apart. Newt cries out in agony at the sensation of his flesh being torn apart stitch by stitch, hot thick blood drips down his cheeks, along his neck and turns his once golden hair crimson. 

Newt's eyes are scrunched closed in a weak attempt to keep his vision, Newt knows that he would also rather lose his vision than bear witness at Thomas’s current form. Sick and cannibalistic as he tries to rip Newt raw as if he already doesn't know what lies underneath Newt's flesh, as if Newt did not already present his heart and soul to him long ago and watched as Thomas held it with steady hands while he promised to never break it. His hands are nothing but steady now, they're desperate and hungry. Newt doesn't know weather its the unfamiliar hands or the pain in his cheeks that makes his heart thump so hard and fast, Newt finally manages to pull the hands away and the moment he gains the upper hand he pushes his hands and stomach up so he can flip them over hoping to get the infected boy on his back. 

His arms succeed while his core does not, Newt feels his spine crash back against the concrete in failure, at least he always has had stronger arms then the average individual because by some pure luck he manages to keep the dangerous hands away from his face. The blood covered fingers are so close to his now mangled cheeks that if Newt focused hard enough he could almost feel the heat that radiates from them against his face. Newt was so focused on Thomas's fingers he almost didn't notice how his breathing went from heaving to gentle and shaky, he almost didn't notice how Thomas’s wrists went from pushing and fighting to slaking and hesitant. Almost. 

Newt forced his eyes to unglue and almost sighed in relief at the sight before him, he saw Thomas. Not the Thomas that was a mere husk for the flare’s bloodlust and cannibalism moments ago, no no. He saw Thomas. Newt saw how his eyes pool with tears of guilt, how his body trembled in disgust and shock at the fact his hands are the ones that caused such gore and torture onto Newts now puffed cheeks. Newt significantly loosened his grip on Thomas's wrists but kept his fingers wrapped around them, he let Thomas's hands cradle his face ever so gently he almost didn't believe he could have been the one to mangle his face. No. it wasnt Thomas who caused this, it was the goddamn fucking flare because how could someone who holds him like this ever do that? They couldn't. He wouldn't. 

“Im sorry- im so sorry Newt” Thomas voice his pouring with shame and self hatred as he chokes between sobs, Newt desperately wants to let go of thomas’s wrists and run his hands through thomas’s hair and allow the trembling brunette bury his face in Newts neck as he insists it's not him who did this, and how he cant forgive him because there is nothing Thomas has done that warrants for apologies. Newt longs to be able to tell him that everything will be ok because he promised to protect him, and that as long as he's alive nothing bad will ever happen to him. Newt knows he can't, Thomas could be taken away from Newt's grasp at any moment and he needs to be wary of him.

It's so so hard to have to be cautious and tread lightly for someone who not even a week ago he trusted entirely. No. no. Newt does trust thomas! Why would he think otherwise? He doesn't trust the brain eating disease that is taking Thomas away from him. “It's okay.. It's okay it's not your fault tommy” Newt subconscious takes the lead in responding, Newt's voice wobbles dangerously as he speaks. His mouth curves into a sad smile and the skin around his eyes creases as he tries to fight back tears. 

Thomas body slumps significantly in a defeat Newt as never seen before. “You know I love you right?” his eyes a knitted shut, his wrists now tense and shaking. “Of course I do, I love you too.” he insists quietly, if he spoke any louder his words would have come out in choked sobs. Confusion creeps through Newts body as Thomas face trickles with a new layer of guilt, he scrunches his face impossibly tighter as the black veins that now reach his temple pulse hard while he tries to fight off the flare for a few more seconds as he gargles out “I'm sorry.” The confusion in Newt's body makes its way to his face as he stares back up at Thomas, he doesn't register what Thomas is apologizing for until he pulls his arm out from Newt's grip and onto his holster. 

Thomas manages to point the gun at his temple before Newt rips the gun from his hands and throws it as far as he's capable of, in doing this he leaves himself open but he doesn't care. He would rather get his face ripped off then.. That happening, Darkness seeps into Thomas's rich caramel eyes as he screeches. Newt is faster, Newt reaches into Thomas's jacket pocket and throws his knife away before he wriggles his way out from underneath him. Newt knows Thomas still has his smaller blade in his shoe, maybe he could somehow get it? No. to risky, Newt is just going to have to hope Thomas doesn't remember he has it. 

Newt jumps to his feet before making himself as still as possible, he knows that if he moves too suddenly or quickly he’ll just set off the brunette and that's not exactly ideal. Thomas stands there, shoulders slump with his head down as black liquid drips from his mouth. “Why won't you let me die?” he spat out, every word causing more oil to drip from his mouth.. Is it coming out of his nose?! Newt can barely see the boy's face since he's looking at Newt through his lashes. “I never realized until now..” Thomas looks up at Newt, rage and fury pours from his eyes as he silently cries. His tears stained an almost gray color as they slid down his face, “I'm just another shuck variable to them, it doesn't matter whether I live or die Newt! I bet somehow they're still watching us, laughing. They're laughing at me hun! They're laughing at us!” As he speaks his voice goes from despair to sickeningly sweet, he holds eye contact as he crouches down and gets his switchblade out from his boot. He flicks the blade out from inside the black leather handle, The orange light that burns on in the distance bouncing off the silver of the blade. 

“I remember how it felt..” he continues, his gaze now focused on the blade in his hand. As if the light that bounces off of it is the most remarkable thing he's ever seen, “watching. Made me sick. Those FUCKING psychs didnt seem to think so! They were so fascinated, You know that? Every little thing you..- We did.” His voice is no longer sweet; he sound's genuinely disgusted, Like he drank century old milk, Newt stands there with no words lingering in his throat. If it's this instead of fighting and death Newt would listen to his monologue till the seasons changed. “I wanted to save you. So bad. I had a plan, I was going to save us. save all of us, every last one of the gladers. But.. ava paige.. She ruined it! Because OF COURSE SHE DID.” His grip on the switchblade tightens.

-

“T+N?? Really tommy??” Newt whispered, watching Thomas finish craving their initials into the black leather of his switchblade with his larger knife. The warm fire crackling nearby was the only sound besides light snoring of the other gladers in the cold night of the scorch. Thomas’s arm draped around the back of Newt's neck as he worked away on the finishing touches of the craving, he somehow radiated pure warmth. Thomas only hummed softly in response to Newt's questioning.

“You're such a bloody sap!” Newt chuckled quietly, trying not to wake the others. Thomas finishes his craving and promptly puts his large knife back into his jacket pocket and switchblade back into his shoe, Newt felt soft lips press lightly onto his scalp. “Only for you hun” the last word dancing playfully on his tongue, “that's a new one-” “that rhymes!” Thomas exclaims before cringing at the sounds of Minho stirring not too far away. “Yes. yes it does tommy. Now sleep you shank!” 

- 

The memory assaults Newt's brain as he watches Thomas’s fingers grip tightly around the leather that he now remembers have their initials carved into it. What Newt wouldn't give to live in that memory forever, to be wrapped in familiar arms instead of his face mangled by unfamiliar hands. To be with his Thomas, Determined and strong but lovey and sappy being closed doors. To watch his jaw clenched in concentration and witness it slack when he lifts his head to see Newt walking over, to hold said jaw in between his fingers and become acquainted with his facial structure through touch instead of longing glances. 

The switchblade shakes along with Thomas's body as he fights back the sobs in his throat, “wicked will never stop.. So what's the point?” Thomas lifts his head to look at Newt, Thomas’s face twitches and spasms along with the rest of his flare ridden body. “I won't let wicked have me.” Newt now realizes he too has tears falling, his tears drip down his face and into his wounds searing painfully. Newt doesn't understand his words, what is he doing?? What grand plan is he talking about?? What could he have possibly done to save them? Thomas looks between the switchblade and Newt a few times before he locks eyes with Newt, he's spiraling again. Newt tensed his muscles and watched Thomas carefully, waiting for him to pounce again. He raises the switchblade slightly with shaky hands, 

Thomas’s actions don't register in Newt's head, well at least until Thomas plunges the switchblade into his stomach.  

Thomas stands deathly still for a moment, he looks to his stomach and when he lifts his head once more all darkness has left his eyes. Newt rushes over and lowers Thomas to the ground just as he begins to lose his footing, Newt lays him flat on his back and once he finally does the situation dawns on him. “You stupid shank!! Why would you-” his cuts himself off when he sees the terror and regret in thomas’s eyes, all the anger in Newts gut dissipates and he quickly takes his jacket off, then his shirt before putting his jacket back on. Put pressure on the wound he coaches himself silently, he focuses solely on the wound because if he looks at Thomas he’ll break into a sobbing mess and Thomas can't afford that. Newt knows he cant take the knife out because it will only make the bleeding worse, you learn a thing or two in the scorch. He uses his shirt and presses hard around the blade to stop the bleeding, his shirt immediately turns crimson and sticky. He blocks any and all emotion out of his mind subconsciously, well tries to anyway. Tears run down his face silently as he continues to put pressure around the puncture wound, a lump forms in his throat that he can't swallow down. 

“The- The others will be here any second now.” he chokes out, not looking in the boy's eyes and instead at his stomach. Thomas reaches for one of Newt's hands and grips around his knuckles, Newt finally gathers the courage to look at Thomas properly. His brown eyes shine under the moonlight, highlighting the golden specks that mix with the darkness. His pupils are blown, his eyes wide and his lip quivering. His grip is so tight Thomas's hand tremors on top of Newts, his breathing is hard and fast as his chest rises and falls. “Hey hey hey” Newt whispers softly, he uses the hand Thomas's isn't strangling to run his hands through Thomas's hair. Brown eyes flick to Newt's hazel ones, pure terror pools in his eyes as tears glide down the sides of his face across his temples. 

Newt’s hand leaves Thomas's chocolatey mop of hair, finding itself cupping the side of his tan face that is lined with pulsing black veins. “You’re okay you're okay you're okay” Newt’s words getting more desperate every second that passes, his thumb gliding back and forth across Thomas's cheek bone in a weak attempt to comfort him while still using his other hand to press against the wound. “Your hand is warm” Thomas barely manages to mumble as he leans into Newt's touch, his eyes getting droopy. Fear shoots through Newt's body as he shakes Thomas's face, Thomas’s eyes snap back open. “Don't close your eyes!” Newt shouts, sounding more desperate than angry. “I want to sleep hun.” Thomas's whispers like a small child. “not now, later ok?” Newts voice tremors, the lump in his throat tightening as he fights back his cries. All terror has left Thomas's face, his muscles are relaxed against Newt's gentle hand. 

Newt pushes the heel of his other hand down as hard as he can, his wrist aching at the effort. A whine sounds in the back of Thomas's throat at the pressure, his brows knitted tightly. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry tommy” the words leaves his lips, tears finally spilling out once more silently. How could he let this happen? Why did he not suspect Thomas's actions? Why hadn't he at least tried to take the blade off him? Why didn't he protect him better? Why why why- “it's okay.. It's okay..” Thomas’s words are breathless now, every word taking tremendous effort to vocalize. Newt's hand is covered in warm scarlet, Thomas hand still on his knuckles as he presses down on his abdomen. The bleeding slows along with Thomas's breathing, his blinking long and snail paced. Thomas’s grip on Newt's hand loosens, “Newt-” “no tommy! I need to-” “please” Thomas begs him quietly, his gaze now at Newt's trembling hand. 

Thomas would do the same for you. Newt pauses before lifting his hand, little blood seeps out now. His wrist still trembling as his hand floats above his abdomen, Thomas’s hand still on top of Newts he squeezes lightly to drag Newt’s attention back to his face. Thomas’s lip quivers as he silently pleads with him, Newt knows what Thomas wants. He wants to be held, and hold him he will. Newt shifts himself so he can lay Thomas's head in his lap, Thomas’s lips curve into a smile as he looks up at the crying blonde. Newt keeps one hand holding the side of Thomas's face, his fingers cupping his jaw now as he glides his thumb along his bottom lip. His other set of fingers deep into Thomas's wavy brown hair, scratching his scalp ever so tenderly with his nails. 

Newt tries to distract himself from the pain in his chest and focuses on what his hands feel, every bump and acne scar in his hand, the smoothness on Thomas's lip that every so often gets broken by a crack, how Thomas's scalp is slightly oily, the way the strands of Thomas's hair feels between his fingers. Newt moves his hand away from Thomas's jaw and allows his fingers to trace every bump, scar and mole on Thomas's soft face. His fingertips glide across his eyebrows and down his nose, Thomas hums softly at his touch. Newt's hands are desperately taking in every detail as his eyes absorb every little thing about Thomas's oh so lovely face. how his face is littered with freckles from the harsh sun, the slight pink tint that lays across his cheeks, the slight stubble above his lip that travels along the bottom of his face, Newt's eyes flick to Thomas eye lashes that are now closed. “Tommy?” Newt’s throat tightens. Brown lashes flutter back open, Newt sighs in relief as his whole body shakes with tears. “I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry” he whispers softly, tears streaming down his face as he apologizes for.. Everything. The flare, his seeping wound, the situation they are in, he repeats those two words over and over again, the sounds intertwining until he can barely make sense of himself. 

Thomas weakly turns his head towards Newt's hand that's cupping his cheek and softly kisses the inside of Newt's palm. his lips barely touching his skin, his warm breath bringing Newt back to reality. Thomas nuzzles his face closer to Newt's hand, kissing him once more. His lips making full contact this time before mumbling sweet nothing with his eyes closed, Newt can't make out what the dizzy boy is saying but just the sound of his voice is enough to calm the roaring sea of emotions in his chest to a pleasant tide. Between mumbles Newt could only make out a few words like “hun” “it's okay” between murmurs he littered Newt's palm with gentle kisses. 

Thomas eventually went quiet, Newt scratched Thomas's scalp and used the silence to comfort him. Insisting it would be ok, the others would be there soon, he told Thomas about the safe haven neither of them had seen. “I reckon there will be a beach or lake, wouldn't that be nice? I'll teach you to swim Tommy, I'll teach ya’ to swim. That's a promise love-” Newt spoke softly to Thomas, every so often he felt more kisses being given to him. Newt looked up at the starry sky, the darkness looming over them that swirled with the orange of the bombs and fire in the distance. He wasn't listening to the screams or the bombs, nothing else in that moment mattered except for the promise to swim and the sound of Thomas's slow breathing. 

“You’d be good at it, swimming. You got strong legs don't ya’ tommy?” Newt admired the sight above, waiting for Thomas to answer. “Love?” he asked, looking down at thomas. “Hey tommy?” he asked again, more firmly this time. He took his kissed hand and cupped the side of Thomas's face that now faces the concrete below, gently making Thomas face him. Thomas’s mouth was slightly agape, his lashes still closed. 

…

His lashes are closed.

“Tommy??” he pressed harder, desperation lingering in his throat causing it to tighten. “C'mon tommy-” He chokes out, his tone light as if Thomas is joking and his eyes will snap back open. “Love please” his voice desperate now, he lightly shakes Thomas's head. No response. Newt shakes harder. “Thomas?!” He's panicking now, very tempted to slap the brunette. “THOMAS??” his voice raised in terror, his nails digging into Thomas's face as he shakes him violently. Shaking clearly not working he carefully lifts Thomas's head off his lap and scoots beside him, he checks his pulse. Thump… Thump… Thump… Newt practically scrambles to his stomach, blood seeping out harder once more. 

Why would he let Thomas persuade him into letting go?! He pushes down on Thomas's stomach with both hands, how could he be so daft?! His body shakes with terror and sobs, he made a promise!! His lip quivers violently, he had ONE FUCKING JOB he presses even harder, he's on his knees now using his body weight to try and stop the blood. Thomas might die and it's going to be ALL HIS FAULT he cries out, pent up sobs in his chest finally leaving his lips. “CMON TOMMY” he screeches, his words wobble as he cries. HOW COULD HE LET THIS HAPPEN?! His body now shakes along with his words he's not processing, is he speaking? Are those screams in the distance his own? He removes one of his hands and presses his fingers against Thomas's wrist, leaning awkwardly against the heel of his hand as he does. Thump… … thump… … thump… … 

“FUCK” he screams out for any to hear, Thomas’s pulse is slowly descending. He removes his hand from Thomas's wrist and presses down around the blade once more, his hands soaked crimson. His mind leaves his body as he floats away from the ground, he doesn't feel the concrete digging into his knees, he doesn't feel the stickiness of the blood that covers his hands, he doesn't feel him accidentally digging his own hands against the blade, he doesn't feel the deep cut on his own hand, he doesn't see his own blood pooling with Thomas’s, he doesn't hear his own desperate screams, he doesn't feel his body tremor and shake with sobs, all he can feel is the agony in his chest as he screams, all he can hear is one repeating thought. 

I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE. I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE. I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE. I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE.

I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE. I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE. I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE. I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE.

I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE. I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE. I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE. I WON'T LET THOMAS DIE.

This one and only thought fuels his very soul and being, it courses through the blood that he doesn't know is leaving his hand and drying on his face, his sparks and lights up in his own DNA, he can feel it strengthen his bones as he pushes down, it blocks out all pain and all exhaustion has ever felt up until this very moment. Nothing else matters. Nothing. 

Newt doesn't hear the stomping of feet rushing towards him, he doesn't hear the shouts of questions being launched at him, he doesn't feel hands shaking him, he doesn't notice someone crouched on the other side of Thomas's body. What he does notice is someone trying to pry his hands away from Thomas abdomen. “GET THE FUCK OFF ME” he bellowed, his voice no longer his own. He feels arms wrap around his waist and pull him off his lover, he screams out nonsensical profanities at whoever the arms belong to. Squirming around and flailing his arms and when the arms sadly pull him away far enough from Thomas's he flails his legs too, refraining from doing so immediately as to not kick poor Tommy. The arms drop him to the concrete, the body steps over him. 

Newt attempts to get to his feet before a hand firmly pushes his chest to the ground, “Stay down!! You hear me hermano?!” a voice- Jorge's voice commands before rushing over to Thomas's weak body, someone tosses Jorge a black bag before disappearing from Newts view. The sky is dark, filled with stars that shine down onto his face. Orange swirls along with it, like paint on a canvas. The stars watch over Newt, he's so so sleepy. The world drips with color all around him, wrapping him in a soft.. cold blanket. Yes. he is cold. That's the only sensation in Newt's body, no… no? No. His heart is thumping in his ears and his chest. He hears someone speaking, over and over and over. The same sentence over and over, he feels his own lips moving in time with the strange sound? Oh. he's speaking. To what? To whom? What is he saying? It's important, is it? Yes. it is important he knows that much. “I won't let Thomas die” he hears the words escape his lips, he feels his body shaking against the concrete. His hands, wrists and face scream out in agony all at once. His mind and body are at war, his mind desperately tries to take him away. To keep him safe, his body however resists and forces him to be somewhat present in this god awful world. 

“Hey man it's me Minho, I'm gonna sit you up ok..?” If it weren't for his kind clarification, Newt would have had no idea who this cautious voice belongs to. Or whose hands lift him up into an upright position and ask him a slew of questions he blocks out, he stares forwards and Jorge.. And who? Brenda. Jorge and Brenda are doing something to Thomas..? What are they doing?! “What- what are-” he cannot speak right, his tongue betrays him in his desperate time of need. “They are patching him up, getting that good ol serum into him- Holy shuck your hand!” Minho yanks Newt's hand toward him, Newt shrieks and flinches away at the sudden contact. “Shit sorry!” he puts his hands up before slowly reaching for Newt's hand again, this time Newt lets his friend take his hand. Minho examines Newt's hand for exactly two seconds before shouting out something to Jorge, apparently Newt needs stitches. Newt looks down at his hand and gags at the sight, the cut is at least the size of his thumb and stretches across diagonally in Newt's palm. He can't see the layers of his skin over all the blood that seeps out of it, Newt is almost thankful for the blood loss knowing he certainly would have vomited if he saw the wound. 

Minho shouts something to Jorge again, catches bandages and very quickly and tightly wraps Newt's hand up. He starts at Newt’s wrist, wraps a few times before wrapping upwards to the non bleeding side before pulling down between his index finger and thumb. Finally covering the wound, he continues this process and maneuvers the white cloth every which way before putting some kind of clip to secure it. “Move your fingers,” Minho instructs quietly. Newt moves his fingers with slight struggle and pain but manages, his fingers are covered in blood. Thomas’s and his blood.

His blood.

His blood?

A bell dings in his head. 

His blood is important.

Why?

Why is it important? 

“Your blood Newt, it kills the virus!”

Teresa’s words ring throughout his head, that serum will only hold Thomas along for a few hour's. Max. he comes crashing back down into his body violently, bombs and fire raging in the distance, the air reeks of gunpowder and the metallic stench of blood. “He’ll live!! We need to get him on the berg-” those two words hit newt harder than any wound he's ever had. Thomas is alive. But he wont be for long, not with the flare still raging on. His head snaps around frantically as the world comes back into focus and his mind slowly begins to function once more, he needs to get back to the tower. Teresa can use his blood, make a cure, save Thomas. Thomas’s survival, his one and only wish. He has a promise to keep. I won't let Thomas die 

Like moments before his brain chants louder than any bomb ever could, his body gathers all its strength and he stumbles to his feet. Jorge who is now lifting Thomas shouts out “Don't even think about it Newt!! You go and you die. You hear?” Newt doesn't care about death anymore, not his own anyway. He frantically pats around his belt, machete? Check. Back up knife? Check. He only has one gun, his pistol. And he has exactly one bullet. And that bullet belongs to Ava Paige. He's never made a decision so fast in his life, the moment he gets the chance he’s going to murder Ava Paige. “I'm going to go kill Ava Paige” he hears Thomas’s voice bounce in his skull, if Thomas can't carry it out Newt sure as shit will. 

I won't let Thomas die. I won't let Ava Paige live. 

Thomas’s survival is as always Newt's top priority. Ava Paige's death would be a.. Good bonus. Newt begins to walk, his heart hammering in his ears. Newt hears Jorge begin to shift, but Newt is faster. He swiftly turns around and points his gun toward him, an empty threat really. The bullet isn't his to take, Jorge doesn't know that though. “I’ll shoot the bloody lot of ya’ if you try and stop me.” his voice escapes him once more, no longer belonging to Newt. His voice is dark and dangerous. “That serum?” he nods towards the black bag discarded on the floor. “Ain't shit. You all heard, I'm getting that bugging cure. Ya’ hear?” no one spoke. No one moved. Nothing. “Good.” The voice sounded once more, his non bandaged hand placing his gun back into his holster. He turned around and just before he was out of ear shot he said “thank you for giving me this.” he took off running before he heard any replies.

He ran for dear life, his heart in his head ticking like a clock counting down every second Thomas doesn't have that serum is a second wasted. 

His body tried desperately to ground him, to feel pain, something anything but his brain won this battle because all he feels is rage. Rage for all those boys dead in the glade, his boys. Rage for all the immunes that got tortured and treated like cattle, nothing more than animals to be used for their own benefit. Rage for all the boys in the glade that were stung and went through the changing, plagued by their own minds till their own agonizing death that wicked had created for them. Rage for Chuck's death, he was too young, too sweet, too pure. Rage for Winston about how he died and that Teresa had the audacity to merely even think about going back after he had died for them, his slow and painful death would not be wasted. Rage for Minho and how unsteady wicked had made not just his feet but his mind, Wicked took away parts of his best friend that will never return. Rage for Thomas and how wicked had treated him his whole entire childhood, Newt remembers how his heart shattered at the story that was Thomas's excuse of childhood. All that torture, isolation, pain, suffering and agony for what? For this? To die of the flare that wicked had created? No. Thomas is going to live, Not survive. Live. Thomas, Newt's other half, his confidant, his secret keeper. Thomas, Who's Newt’s very soul and being is intertwined with so tightly that not even wicked will make him stand down to protect who he loves. To let Thomas's die would be to let himself die along with him, Thomas is his promise. His dying wish. 

How Newt got into the wicked building? Only the stars know the answer. His feet moved ever so gently, his walk so so quiet, not a single footstep was heard. Newt would not be heard until he wished to, and that was a guarantee. Newt walked down the wide and large corridor, 

Normally he wouldnt feel so claustrophobic but Ava Paige tended to have that feel. 

Newt has never been alone with her, let alone spoke but he knew that he knew her. And he knows that she knows him. Subconsciously he knows that the room closing inwards at her presence is not a shock, and is to be expected. The rage that carried Newt's body simmered louder and harder, desperate for attention. The blonde woman was staring out into the street below, floor to ceiling windows making the whole burning street visible. Her life's work, gone. Newt stepped cautiously, before a voice escaped his lips. “Is Teresa telling the truth?” the voice questioned, Newt doesn't remember raising the gun up to her head. She shook her head, Newt's whole body nearly crumbled to the floor in relief. “Thomas was always my favorite.” she stated, deadpan. 

Newt clicked off the safety. 

“You have NO right to say his name.” The voice's tone had risen, matching the rage bubbling up from Newt's stomach to his throat. Ava paige smiled. Fucking smiled. “I knew I made the right choice, making you The Glue.” she turned to face Newt, her voice almost bored? Apparently she expected a gun to the head. “You have always been so.. Protective. Not just for Thomas, anyone you cared about you would throw your own safety away in a heartbeat to protect them. Little to no value for your own life, does Lizzie ring a bell Newt?” the gun for some reason, shook violently in his hand at the name. “I know what you want, Newton. I'll get you that serum, in exchange.. You don't just save Thomas. You save us all.” her voice now sincere. “you’ll get it to him?” he snapped, why would she do that for him? She does not owe him a damn thing- “I care about him. He was like a son to me.” 

the words made newt feel sick, how can she care for Thomas so deeply? After everything she put him through? But her voice held no lies within, which only made him sicker. She truly did care, and despite that she was still so evil to him. Newt felt the trigger burn into his finger, he has never wanted to end a life as badly as Ava Paige’s. But god dammit she would get the cure to Thomas, and that is more valuable than her bloodshed. I won't let Thomas die. The words burnt through his whole body as he lowered his gun, “if you are lying, i will kill you.” he replied, voice dead. This threat was not empty, his word’s filled to the brim with truth. “I know.” her crimson lips began to curve into a smile-

BANG

Shock coursing through his entire body at the sound, Newt didn't need to look down to know Ava Paige had been shot. Her body crumpled to the floor almost instantly, revealing the shooter. Janson. Blood seeps out onto the floor, the crimson liquid does not phase Newt in the slightest. No blood will ever make his heart as heavy as the blood on his hands. Janson steps forward through the smoke that left his small gun that is being strangled by his guilty fingers, his face scrunched together tightly. His eyes show no remorse for his actions, why would they? His hands have been dipped in scarlet before. He walks slowly up to Newt, gun pointed at his head. Newt makes no effort to fight back, waiting for the bullet to pass through his skull. Is this it? Will Janson end his life? Had he failed to keep the one promise he had made to himself? Newt looks in the ratman’s eyes, pure bloodlust in his dark eyes. No. Janson won't kill him. He's seen those eyes before, he’s seen such darkness take over someone’s eyes. His lover's eyes. Thomas’s eyes. Janson needs Newt just as badly as Thomas needs him, the difference between the two is that Thomas need’s him the way the body needs a heart, the way the brain needs oxygen. Janson only wants the blood that travels through Newts veins. 

Janson’s arm moves quickly to Newt's neck, almost like a snake. His arm retracts as quickly as it came, Newt realizes Janson has pricked him with something? What is it? His head feels so so loopy.. His.. legs

are so heavy…?

Why is he falling.. Falling falling to the ground, falling and rolling in Ava's blood.. So much blood. All he can smell is the metallic stench from the scarlet liquid. His eyelids are so heavy, vision fogs along with all sense left in him. 

“You should have run Newton.” 

Despite Newts' protests his eyelids that seem to weigh the amount of the guilt he carries in his chest, pull close. succumbing his vision and mind to darkness.

CHAPTER 1 -- NEXT -- PREVIOUS

Authors note!!: this chapter was hard to write, i found myself getting emotional as i wrote it. i tried really hard to convey how newt felt during the whole event, and i hope the flashback wasn't unnecessary. this whole chapter is littered with metaphors and sentences that have deeper meanings and everything is not always literal. i had an absolute blast writing this, this is the chapter that inspired me to write this whole fic and i really poured a lot of emotion into it.

i know realistically Newt wouldn't have recovered from shock that fast but i want to state he ISNT fully out of it, he's still on high alert but its not as bad as when he was on the ground. don't worry, there's going to be a recovery process (well at least the start of it) in the next chapter and how everything thats happened has taken mental and physical toll. the next chapter will be the final one of newts story, i may do 1-2 more chapters (one in Thomas's POV and one and Minho's POV) because i feel that would finally put this story to a close.

thank you for sticking with me throughout the past couple chapters, buckle in because the next one is the final chapter!!

[yousadclownofaman]

Whipstitch Whitehall, Western Transplant & Settlement Leader.

Im embarrassed that I haven’t posted all my new fallout characters yet…this is Whipstitch Whitehall, from Vault 49 out in OK originally, but she’s made her way through to the Commonwealth & has made a living setting up small communications relays between settlements in the northern Commonwealth. She’s got a little arms dealing business on the side but that’s for later, details under the cut!

Vault 49 was established under a private airstrip used for politicians & eccentric billionaires living in the Four Corners region of the pre-war western United States. With a focus on preparedness and wilderness training, Vault Tec’s plan for 49 was to initially shock the well-to-do political class into a proverbial state of “freeze-fight-or-flight” following the inevitable nuclear apocalypse. Herded into Vault 49 alongside these social elites were a selection of local farming families chosen by a quad-state area Super Duper Mart raffle, who would be dispersed throughout the same living quarters as their former governors & elected officials. Intermarrying was highly encouraged, and living standard incentives were even instituted in the early phases of Vault Tec’s V49 Overseer Agenda to establish families of mixed parentage; results were mixed for several short generations, but Vault 49 eventually came to be known in the middle territories as one of the more successful experiments surviving into the new post-nuclear landscape.

Much of the senatorial & gubernatorial class died out in the first few decades; pampered lifestyles with extensive robotic assistance led to a group that could not handle the stressors of Vault life. Those few hardier families who could handle themselves mingled with the general population & within 2-3 generations Vault-Tec Overseer reports would have been full of rigorous training regiments, roll call counts, test scores and biometric data. The program for V49 dictated that all inhabitants be trained in extensive wilderness preparedness (akin to pre-war Eagle Scout programs) for the first 150 years after initial sealing—after which control over the vault’s main door would be relinquished to the current Overseer via a Vault-Tec official password transfer. With the Overseer’s discretion the main door would be allowed to open whenever necessary, and a system of scouting parties would be established shortly after. Phase 2 of Vault-Tec’s program would come into effect here.

Whipstitch’s parents were both particularly talented community leaders; her mother was head technician in the V49 Water Processing Plant, and her father was on the Science & Exploration Board for several years before they had little ‘Stitch. She grew up as a talented target shooter, an excellent swimmer, and with a propensity for tinkering which carried her through V49 “Blue Ranger” training; a gauntlet designed to harden potential scouting party members. Whipstitch took her chance when she could to leave the vault and see the greater world, only bits of which she’d seen previously from others’ scavenging hauls—and never came back. She feels pangs of guilt from time to time when the skies hang red with radiation storms, reminding her of the dusty prairie sky back in O-Kay. Stitch took all those skills from V49 and trained up her people skills along the way, managing to gain some small notoriety as a handy builder/engineer & quite nifty with small energy weapons.

[craftystampin]

Stampin Scoop Hello, Irresistible and More Online Exclusives Suite Episode 156

Stampin Scoop Hello, Irresistible and More Welcome back for part 2 of the Stampin’ Scoop show featuring the Stampin’ Up! Online Exclusives with lots of Hello, Irresistible Collection samples. Stampin’ Up’s just dropped a new line of “Online Exclusive” products. Tami and I shared a sampling of them in our pre-order haul last month but now we’re able to share them all! And in addition to the hot…

[bloodlessbelmounte]

As Cold As Death (Part 3)

Part 1|2|3|

Summary:

You've had always lived what felt like a half-life, died more times than you could count. Astarion was a vampire spawn who had been "living" in the shadow of his master. But things change for the both of you when you're abducted by Mindflayers and implanted with tadpoles. With a Cleric of Shar; a Githyanki Warrior; an Escaped Solider for Zariel; the Blade of Frontiers; a Former Chosen of Mystra; the Corpse of a Scribe and the Pale Elf, you venture forth towards Baldur's Gate in the hopes of finding a cure. Where the shadow over Astarion is darkest and the Dead Three's chosen lurk along the way.

Genre: Romance, Slowburn(-ish)

Pairing: Astarion/Necromancer GN!Reader (Tav)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of death, blood drinking, manipulation. More to be added as the fic goes on. Please let me know if there's any I missed.

Word Count: 4,140

Note: Sorry this took so long, got a new job as a TA at a SEN school which is pretty full on but it's the holidays now. Also had family matters crop up. From now on any spells that have a verbal component will use the Spell Saying Guide by Gorilla of Destiny as using Latin for magic systems is lame and boring. Especially in a fantasy realm where Latin doesn't exsist. Also I tweaked the previous chapter to be more in line with my vision for Tav, only a minor change that I feel most won't notice as it's just one sentence, but it changes the context around Tav and their magic in this chapter and beyond. This has been cross-posted to AO3 and can be seen as a prequel to 'Predators and Prey'. No beta, we die like bing bong.

With everyone back it was decided that a short rest should be taken before continuing down the road back to the Grove. Though those who accompanied you to Ethel’s didn’t need the rest, those who had returned from the Blighted Village looked as if they had undergone a strenuous battle and survived by the skin of their teeth. After lunch, they had immediately made their way to their respective tents. For your part, you were sat in your own tent - journaling; a habit you had picked up from your teacher. From the corner of your eye you could see Astarion, ever bored, rifling through your backpack. The evident confusion on his face as he pulled out twin daggers, both with your initials engraved, made you giggle. And that’s how things continued until the others roused in the early evening hours.

Lae’zel approached you with a book in hand, you could feel the vile aura radiating from it before she reached you.

“We encountered this while in the basement of a herbalist. It appeared he was dabbling in things beyond medicine.” She handed over the book, its cover was a patchwork of humanoid flesh - stitched together with a screaming face in it centre with eyes made of dark amethyst. You knew the country this book came from by the reek of its magic. “And this we found in a Phase spider nest, it seems to be the same kind on gem used for the books eyes. Wyll believed it best that the book be under your care. Though, I suggest we destroy it - it seems cursed to me.”

Your conversation seemed to have garnered an audience as Astarion and Gale gathered around the two of you.

“That looks terribly heavy. Why don’t you let me carry it for you?” It was an item of power, of course Astarion would want it. If there’s something you’ve learnt about him during your journey so far, it was that he only ever acted in his own favour, your agreement included.

“I have my fair share of experience with dangerous books. I’ll take that off your hands - into more prepared ones.” After learning about Gale’s Netherese orb - where he got cursed with after opening a book he knew little about - you were very reluctant to trust him with a tome from Thay of all places.

“There’s no need for either of you to concern yourselves with this. This tome is about the necromancy in the country of Thay.” You grimaced in distaste, this book was the work of those who worshipped the evils of this world. You made your way towards Shadowheart, the other following out of curiosity. Throwing the book on the ground in front of her you announced, “We’re destroying this.”

“What are you doing? That’s no way to treat a book!” Gale protested.

You ignored him, “Shadowheart, if you’d please do the honours. It’s only weakness is radiance.”

“Come now Tav, its a necromancy book! Surely you’d be wanting to learn as much as you can from it!” Gale continued.

“It’s tainted! Only the morally bankrupt would peruse its pages. The land of Thay is a lichdom, an affront to death itself by trying to escape it-”

“But one would think as a necromancer yourself-”

“I didn’t choose to be a necromancer! Necromancy chose me! My necromantic abilities are not the same as Thay’s. I will hear no more about this from you wizard. Now Shadowheart, kindly turn this thing to cinders before anyone else questions my choice.”

Shadowheart nodded and raised her hand, “Hunat-’muli!”

A Guiding Bolt shot down from the sky and incinerated the book in radiant light; only for your group to be swiftly blinded by a consuming darkness. Seemed that your actions might have released something from the tome’s pages as the darkness formed into three shadow beings. Your magic thrummed in your veins much like it had when you met Astarion, these beings were undead.

As you were all taken by surprise, these beings took the opportunity to make their attacks. Necrotic claws slashed at Shadowheart, yourself and Gale - you three having been the closet. Gale and Shadowheart both staggered at the hits as claws caused the flesh it made contact with to decay, but you faired better than them for once. Sure the claws had cut your arm, but the decay was minimal.

Astarion was the first to act in your group, his enchanted daggers actually piercing the sides of the creature that had attacked you. It let out a haunting howl of pain before lashing out in retaliation but Astarion, always light on his feet, dodged out of the way in time.

Lae’zel was next to get her wits about her, she charged towards the one that had attacked Shadowheart. She slashed at it twice with her Everburn Blade, seemingly seriously injuring the shadow creature as a call of “Cunat-’wyn!” from Shadowheart summoned a Sacred Flame which was that creature’s end.

Gale tried to dodge yet another attack from his assailant but failed as the creature wrapped both its arms around him and sapped his strength.

“Luton-’mul!” You conjured your magic missiles, aiming them all at five darts at the creature attacking Gale. It released him as the force of the blows knocked it back, this gave Gale an opening to cast Ray of Frost, killing it.

With those two eliminated, all that was left was the one between you and Astarion. The vampire once again plunged his daggers into shadow as the creature gave a death cry. He turned to you and grasped your arm, inspecting it.

“Not as bad as it could have been, but that’s going to continue to fester unless treated properly. Halix.” His hands glowed blue as the decay was restored to healthy - though still torn - flesh.

“I think Gale needed that more than me.”

“I don’t think Gale would appreciate my… attentions quite like you do, darling. Besides I want you all patched up.” He shot you his signature smirk.

Shadowheart took a calming breath before bringing her hands together in prayer, “Huusin.”

A warmth washed over you as you felt the gashes on your arm knit themselves back together. Sighs of relief came from the wizards and the cleric as their injuries were also healed.

Gale looked at you pointedly, “This is why you should treat books with more respect.”

“Usually I do, but Avernus would have to freeze over and Cania melt for me to ever entertain the idea of carrying a book authored by Szass Tam. Let alone reading the forsaken thing!”

With that, you marched back to your tent and started deconstructing it. It was about time you set off for the Grove anyway.

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

Upon your arrival at the Grove, the refugee tieflings rejoiced at your apparent victory. You were glad to see Halsin giving Kagha a verbal dressing down over how she ran the Grove in his absence though you wished he would expel the snake from the circle. If you hadn’t of been able to save Arabella from her you probably would have murdered the woman then and there. Clearly, Halsin has a higher tolerance for child endangerment than you.

Zevlor took your group to one side and presented you with a reward for finding and rescuing Halsin. Usually you weren’t the type to accept these kind of things but since you didn’t know how long you would be parasite laden and you didn’t want to garner Astarion’s disapproval - you begrudgingly accepted the meagre amount of coin. The paladin then invited you to a party the refugees would be holding that night now that the roads were safe enough to move on which you also accepted. You could use a drink… or ten.

So once you had collected your reward from the druids, you set up camp yet again and dressed comfortably for the upcoming festivities. You had expected the tieflings to trickle into your camp but no, they all seemed to appear at once carting various goods along with them. You helped yourself to a goblet of wine and scanned the crowded space for a familiar face. A glimpse of a purple ensemble had you weaving through bodies that offered tipsy “thanks” as you brushed by.

“Gale!” You called, attracting his attention, “I hope the evening finds you well despite our earlier dispute.”

He gave you a gentle smile, it didn’t quite reach his eyes, “I assure you, I harbour no resentment about our… disagreement. You’re our resident necromancer, I should have trusted your judgement as that is your expertise and not mine.”

“Oh my, the great Gale of Waterdeep is admitting he’s wrong? Is the parasite scrambling your brain?” You chuckled then cleared your throat, “In all seriousness though, I was rather short with you and I apologise for that. I wasn’t exactly a people person before all this,” you gestured around your head in circular motions, “so I’m lacking in tact.”

Gale’s smile grew, “We both have a lot to learn it seems. Perhaps we can teach each other a thing or two… I was Mystra’s chosen for a time after all. I’m curious though, about the comment you made though - about not choosing necromancy and that it chose you. Were you forced to learn it?”

“No not really,” you shrugged, “I’m a sorcerer, an atypical one at that. Where most get there magic from their bloodlines, mine seemingly comes from my illness.”

“O-oh? Hard to imagine you as a child just casting Chill Touch out of nowhere.”

You laughed but took a moment to consider your words, “Luckily I found a teacher, well no he found me. Would whisk me away to teach me spells and control all before my mother could miss me for too long.”

Gale frowned, “Was… Tav please tell me he was a decent person… If he was anything like the necromancers I’ve heard-”

“Oh! Oh gods he was fine. An old fart who travelled constantly. His lessons were fleeting to be honest but concise. Unlike another wizard I now know.”

You gave Gale a playful shove, trying to lighten the mood. However, you felt a tension rise in you, like prey out in an open grassland. You were being watched. And one glance over your shoulder had you casting your gaze onto the predator, a certain white haired vampire was glaring at you from across the crowd. More precisely, he was glaring at the hand that still lingered by Gale’s arm.

“Seems that your nightly companion would like your attention.”

“Astarion can wait, though it probably be best if I checked on the others. I haven’t spotted Wyll since the tieflings arrived.”

“Good luck in finding him then, our horned friend blends into these crowds now. Though don’t leave the neck-romancer waiting too long. He might end up hunting you down.” Gale joked.

Stupid wizards and their stupid puns.

You bid adieu to the magic scholar and began your quest to find the warlock. The first place you checked was his tent, which stood empty of his presence. Your next port of call was Karlach’s, perhaps they’d be sharing devil griefs. But no he wasn’t there either. Karlach for her part was in front of her tent, chatting to anyone and everyone who approached her. When her eyes landed on you, she gave you a big toothy grin.

“Oi, solider! Come over ‘ere!” She beckoned, “Look at all these happy people. Because of us! It’s nice to be somewhere where good is possible for a change. Speaking of possibilities, could I possibly steal you away from our fanged friend tonight? If you wanted to meet up later we could maybe… meet… up. Later. You know.” She sighed in frustration. It was a strange sight to watch the proud and tall Infernal Champion shrink in on herself. Literally deflating before your eyes.

“Karlach, you’re lovely and a great friend, I just don’t view you as something other than that. I value my friends highly.” You tried to reassure her.

“I know, but you only live once. And if you never throw your dart, you’ll never hit the bull’s eye.”

“Keep throwing, who knows you might hit Dammon or Wyll. Speaking of, I’m trying to find the Blade. Have you seen him?”

“Last I saw him, he was heading down to the sandy patch by himself before everyone arrived.”

“Thanks Hotstuff. I’ll put in a good word for you as a favour.” You shot her a wink and beelined for the shore, though with a quick stop to grab a bottle of wine and an extra glass.

You found Wyll quite easily as no one was really in this part of the camp. He was sat with his back resting on the embankment, staring into the Chionthar. Before you even approached him, you could feel the melancholy coming off the folk hero as a palpable aura. Despite the festivities, this man was clearly upset. Depressed even.

Please don’t be a sad drunkard.

“Wyll? You okay?” You said as you approached.

“Agh, Hells! I was hoping you wouldn’t notice I was gone.”

“Of course I noticed. It’s not a party without you,” you joined him on the ground then opened the bottle of wine, decanting a fair amount into a glass and passed it to him before refilling your own.

“Really? I’m honoured.” Wyll looked down at the vermilion liquid and swirled it. “In truth, I don’t feel in a festive mood. and I didn’t want to cast a grey cloud over the night. I’ve become a devil.” Ah, so that was the issue. You briefly considered interrupting him to comfort him, but decided it was best to let him air his upsets first. Sometimes people just want to be heard first and foremost. At least, that’s how you’d like to be treated. “I love the people from the grove, but I unsettle them deep down. As I seem to unsettle everyone nowadays. You don’t want a devil at your party. Claws will pop the balloons, you see. And the sweetcakes don’t taste half as good as raw eggs with this blasted forked tongue.”

You took a sip of wine, “You don’t unsettle me, you know that. I’m walking livestock for one of our entourage, it’ll take more than claws and forked tongues to make me uncomfortable.”

Your words of comfort did not have the effect you intended as Wyll’s shoulders sagged and brows furrowed, “If only half the world had half the heart that you do. But off with you, this is your day! Have a dance. Enjoy the music.”

“I don’t want to leave you here on your own. Your transformation… it was negligent of me not to address your feeling prior to now, I can’t imagine it was a pleasant experience. Most likely excruciating now that I think about it. You don’t have to suffer alone. If you truly want peace, I won’t pester you, but I know a certain fiery gal who could do with a good trade of battle tales.” You used your free hand to push yourself off the sand, dusting any off your rear then gestured to the bottle that stood propped upright, “You can have that, not all festivities have to be had in public.”

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

As the night went on you made sure to stop by every tent, Karlach was the first so that you could inform her of Wyll’s state and she was swift in making her way to him. Shadowheart had tried to entice you into sharing a bottle of wine with her but you didn’t want to risk the stomach upset or the hangover that would proceed it. The most startling revelation to you was Lae’zel’s apparent sexual interest in you, after all she had threatened to kill you for being weak back at the goblin camp. Seemed you were in high demand for once in your life, a true novelty. You even stopped by that insufferable druid Halsin, and was thoroughly surprised by his offer to join your group to help you find a cure. He mentioned a place called Moonrise Towers being a possible lead but that was a conversation for the morn. You could feel Astarion’s eyes on you constantly as you flitted around. So with liquid confidence coursing through your veins, you finally made your way over to him, his eyes never straying from you even as grateful tieflings try to gain his attention.

“Here’s my little treat with their cheeks all flushed. You will come to my bed tonight, won’t you?” He asked flirtatiously, wine glass in hand. Your cheeks, already hot with alcohol, deepened in colour. “Or would you rather spend the night with… someone else?”

You elected to ignore your blush and his last remark, you had no intention to spoil the night with petty jealousy, “‘A little treat’? You can do better than that ‘Star.”

Astarion stood a little straighter, confidence oozing from him as his signature smirk manifested, “Oh, I certainly can, it would be my pleasure. Hmmm. How about this one: When I’m with you, I feel practically alive again, yet I crave only to die again with you.”

“That’s the most obvious lie I’ve heard from you yet,” You chuckled, “So many honeyed words, as usual.”

“Not half as sweet as when I tasted you.” His voice teasing purr. Your mind cast memories of the night you spent with him in the woods, how he fed from you while you entwined. “Hmm, let me give it another go: Every part of your perfect body whispers temptation - it’s as if the Gods made you just to ruin me.”

You took a sip of your wine, trying to hide your self-consciousness. You were never good at taking a compliment. “You’re sweet, and sillier than I thought.”

Astarion smiled broadly, fangs peaking from behind his lips, “Hmph, I can go all night with the flattery, but is that really all you want? How about if I said these three little words… Everyone’s favourite…” His smile drop, eyes almost looking like a puppy’s, “I love you.”

“Having fun, are you?”

The smile returned, wider than before, “I am, it’s hard not to when I’m with you. Now, as much as I relish standing around and saying all my favourite lines at you. I’d much rather we got to experience each other’s full portfolio of talents once again.”

“This back and forth really was fun. But to be honest Astarion, I’m surprised you want to share your bed with me again after last time. I said it the morning after but I’ll say it now as well: you didn’t seem to enjoy yourself. And I know you said you were holding back but… I don’t want you to force yourself because that’s what you think I want.” Gods know you have experienced that first hand. It’s not something you’d wish on another to sate your own desires.

Astarion huffed, “If we’re being honest… that time was… special to me. I’ve gotten on my back ten thousand times or more, and forgotten half of them. But you… you were- are different. I’m more than happy to have a little death with you again, Darling.”

“If that’s truly what you want. I’ll come find you when everyone’s asleep.”

He took your free hand in his and placed a kiss in your palm, “I’ll be waiting.”

Later that evening when most of the tieflings had passed out drunk, Astarion made an excuse about going off to hunt and once everyone had retired for the night you followed after him, a change of clothes in your arms.

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

Astarion awoke you as the sun was rising, already fully dressed. With a murmur of ‘Halix’ his amulet of Silvanus activated and allowed him to cure you of your blood loss. You still couldn’t get over the fact he had found such a powerful item under a rock guarded by a bear of all places.

Luckily, this time everyone was yet to wake on your return, though the passed out tieflings were noticeably missing. Unable to help yourself, you gave Astarion a parting kiss on the cheek before slipping back into your tent where you began to pack up your things.

Once the camp had awakened and eaten, Halsin approached you, “I’m certain a cure can be found at Moonrise Towers, but it’s… complicated. The journey, specifically - it’s extremely perilous. Though it seems you’re well accustomed to navigating danger, I have been enlightened as to your unique condition by your friends.”

Wyll came up behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder, “To Moonrise Towers then. May the sun and stars guide us.”

“What’s so dangerous about it?” You asked.

Halsin continued, “To get to the Towers, you’ll need to pass through a terrible place - a cursed place. This curse shrouds everything in shadow - you will not find life, light or anything natural there. Any who linger are twisted by the curse; they become shadow beings - tormented dangerous souls.”

“We had a tangled with some of those yesterday, wasn’t too difficult. But the Absolutes forces can tolerate such a place?”

“So it seems, though I don’t know how. You will have to choose your approach carefully. You could go overland - along the Risen Road or through the mountains. Easier at first but you’ll run into the shadow curse eventually. You could also go under. There is a tunnel somewhere in the ruined temple of Selune. It leads to Moonrise Towers through the Underdark.”

You nodded along considering you’re options as he divulged even more information.

“Long ago, a man called Ketheric Thorm built a secret stronghold deep down there, before rallying a whole army of Dark Justiciars - Shar worshippers.” His eyes darted to Shadowheart, “Aradin and his lot were looking for a way down there - they were promised riches if they retrieved a relic called Nightsong. But I think there’s more.”

By the sounds of it Halsin strongly thought the Underdark was the best option, but you had yet to find a way down. It seemed you would be going overland until you could find an entrance. With that decided you headed up Risen Road, set on getting to Moonrise Towers. What you hadn’t expected was a burning inn - Waukeen’s Rest as the sign read - to divert you from your course as Karlach and Wyll rushed to help. You hesitated but followed after them. A quick chat with a Flaming Fist informed you this was the work of the Absolute’s forces. Wyll and Karlach were ahead of you, already breaking down the doors of the main building once they had heard that Grand Duke Ravengaurd could be stuck in there. Again you take a moment. Should you follow? You don’t handle heat too well… but lives were in danger as many hands as possible were needed. Who knows how many souls were trapped in there.

“Don’t do it. You’d have to be out of your mind to go in there.” Astarion warned.

You ignored him and raced through a side-door and up some stairs, the heat was unbearable and the smoke was burning your eyes and filling your lungs, but you persisted as faint calls for help reached your ears. Following them, you found a broken door. At first you had tried to open it like an idiot, hand making contacted with the heated metal of the door knob. You hissed through the pain and cradled the injured appendage to your chest before taking a few steps back.

“Luton-’mul.”

The darts met their mark and blasted the door into pieces, making enough room for you to squeeze through. There on the floor trapped beneath fallen beams was a blonde human man, barely conscious. You felt someone barge past you, a shock of white hair amongst the smoke - Astarion. With a struggle he lifted the debris off the man and you crouched down touching a burnt shoulder.

“Coulix,” You whispered, green energy moving from your hand into the man who sputtered back into awareness, sparing him from certain death. He muttered his thanks before making a hasty escape.

You, however, felt your stomach drop as an all to familiar pain struck your chest, as your limbs became heavy and cold despite the flames around you. Your legs gave out beneath you as your breathing became laboured. Lithe arms caught you.

“No, you can’t die here. Get up damn you!” Astarion demanded, shaking you slightly. But it was no use, your eyes fell shut, your chest stilled.

When you opened your eyes again you found yourself in a familiar grey realm, stood in front of a familiar desk piled with scrolls. Yet it’s seat was unoccupied by the insectoid face you were used to seeing there. It was empty.

“Jergal? Are you there?”

——————————————————————————————————

A/N: Would it bad if my paladin from my current DnD campaign made a brief cameo appreance at some point??? Because they're a little… feral which is not how I intended them to turn out but hey ho.

[radiojamming]

Asking pretty please for info on your courier if you don't mind!!! Did you go with a specific build or play her a certain way?

Also any backstory you wish to share I will eat that right up, I just love the courier x coop fic you wrote!

YES OH GOSH YES SO

She goes by Lizzie Holliday or Doc Holliday and her tag skills are medicine, science, and speech. I generally play her as a well-meaning but chaotic field doctor who ends up wandering into Plot Situations.

Here's some [chef kiss] art of her by @jara257/@jaradraws for reference:

Some backstory is that her actual name is Adelita Espinosa and she was born in New Mexico. Her father was a traveling doctor and her mother was a scientist studying radiation mitigation in crops and irrigation. Her mother died of radiation poisoning when Lizzie was very young, so she doesn't remember her well. After that, she traveled with her father and learned all of her medical know-how from him.

After Dr. Espinosa died of natural causes, Lizzie moved on to find her place in the Wasteland. Kind of like a gap year. Maaaaybe she wanted to be a doctor? Or a scientist like her mom? But just like a gap year student, she needed an interim job to make ends meet and took the courier job. Cue FNV plot.

So Lizzie doesn't really think she has a head for politickin', but she ends up making decent choices in like a crapshoot way. Or like someone rolling a D20 and rolling very high every time, even when she doesn't want to. New Vegas ends up in her lap, and her whole decision to rule it is just because she thinks everyone else vying for it sucks. In her mind, she's just a placeholder for someone better at bureaucracy who doesn't suck. The only problem is that's, like, everybody. So she's still there.

And fun facts!

She's incredibly pansexual, and after her head wound, she's really leaned into a whole 'life is short, people are hot' lifestyle, except 'people' sometimes includes robots. And light switches.

She collects pencils because she runs out of them all the time.

Her favorite foods are snack cakes, cazador honey, and roasted pinyon nuts.

When she doesn't live in Vegas (which she tries not to), she's either in Goodsprings or wandering around with Raul.

After the events of FNV, she gets two pet nightstalkers named Gertie and Jose.

Her hobbies including playing guitar, sketching, embroidery (to practice her stitching work!), swimming, and practicing her golf swing. She doesn't understand how golf works and she doesn't want to, but there's something very fun about launching golf balls at unsuspecting fiends and Legion boys.

Her favorite weapon is Paciencia.

In her canon route, she's the one who botches Caesar's brain surgery. Whoops. :)

That said, she also canonically talks Lanius out of attacking and does the same to get Vulpes to leave (or does he?).

(She and Vulpes have a Thing. I never said she had a good sense of self-preservation.)

She takes her role as one of The Kings very seriously and has perfected her hip sway and 'uh-huuuuh's.

The most in love she's ever been is with Dr. 8 from Big MT.

Her dream fate is to get ghoulified so she and Raul can hang out forever and maybe she can go visit the REPCONN ghouls in space.

Realistically, she'd also like to live at Nellis with the Boomers until the end of her days. It sounds much more fun to her than ruling New Vegas.

She'd be so into Cooper Howard that it'd make her bonkers. She'd draw little hearts around his name in notebooks.

[jungle-angel]

I’ll Keep You Warm (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: You know Rhett will always be there for you and the kids, even on the coldest nights Wyoming has ever seen

Rhett closed the hatch on the back of the pellet stove in the basement, making sure it was completely filled and that the woodstove in the living room had enough in it to last the night. School had already cancelled until Monday and all the animals on the property had to be in due to the temperatures that were predicted to dip below zero. 

“Alright my stinky familiars,” Rhett said to the skunks, snapping his fingers and pointing towards the beat up old wicker basket where the babies were all laying in a pile to keep warm. 

The male and female obeyed instantly, earning a handful of mealworms from Rhett in their food dishes which were still full of blueberries, pears and the insectivore chow that Wes had brought over from the wildlife center. Rhett scratched their chins and ran his hand along their tails before they curled around the babies who were still small and needed to nurse. 

Back upstairs he went to see if Willy and Tiny were in their basket yet, the kittens mewing as they searched for their mother. Rhett quickly got a hold of the one who was always sneaking around and hiding in your yarn basket before putting him back with his brothers and sisters. 

“Darlin ya’ll still down here?” he asked. 

“In the kitchen,” you answered. 

Rhett made his way into the kitchen and snaked his arms around you as you scrubbed away at the last of the dishes. He pressed his warm lips against your neck, listening to the purr in your throat. 

“How goes Momma?” he asked, his voice deep from exhaustion. 

“Tired,” you answered. “I’m cold too. I’m shaking like a chihuahua dog.” 

Rhett laughed a little, but he too could feel the cold radiating a little against the window above the kitchen sink. “Kids need flannel pjs tonight, right?” he asked. 

“And the heavy quilts,” you reminded him. 

Rhett kissed your cheek but quickly snapped to attention when he heard the loud cries of a newborn coming from upstairs. “You stay put,” Rhett ordered. “I’ve got him.” 

Rhett headed upstairs to your shared bedroom, his steps quickening as the cries grew louder. Poor Dallas was fully awake, only in his little onesie and nothing else as he lay in the knotted pine sleeping basket on Rhett’s side of the bed. 

“Oh buddy, c’mere,” Rhett cooed as he lifted the little one out of his sleeping basket. “You’ve gotta be freezing.” 

Rhett found his little blue and white knit blanket Cecelia had made the day Dallas had officially been adopted into the family, wrapping it around his little form and holding the baby against him for warmth. 

“You were cold weren’t you?” Rhett said as he carefully put Dallas’s little blue and green pacifier in his mouth. “I know buddy, I know. Wish we could all go to Florida for a little while and get some sunshine.” 

Dallas’s crying died down to a few squeaky little whimpers as Rhett kissed the smooth tufts of hair on Dallas’s fragile little head. He dug around in the dresser to see if he could find some warm pjs for the baby and sure enough, there they were. You had gotten them the day of the official court ruling that Dallas was yours, the little blue footie pajamas that had a cowboy on a bucking bronco stitched onto them. Cecelia had thought they were the cutest thing in the world and now that Dallas had grown a little, he fit into them perfectly. Rhett even found the little crochet socks and matching hat that would keep him extra warm. 

Out of the old clothes and into the new and Dallas finally settled right down. Rhett carefully placed him in the sleeping basket, covering him with the blanket and stroking his hair. He hardly noticed you in the door, the broad smile on your face growing wider by the second. You loved how soft he was with the kids, especially the boys when they were newborns and the girls? Whenever he’d snuggle the girls, your legs turned to jelly.

“Is he asleep?” you whispered. 

“Gettin there,” Rhett answered. “What about the others?” 

“Hannah’s still awake,” you answered. “She’ll be reading her Little House on the Prairie books for hours. The big twins went down and so didn’t the little twins.”

“Kaya?” 

Before you could answer, in rushed Kaya in her little red and black flannel pajamas that Papa and Nana Cece had gotten all of the kids for Christmas. “Daddy, I’m done with my bath,” she chirped, pushing some of her wet hair over her shoulder. 

You laughed as your youngest daughter jumped up on the bed, hushing her before she had a chance to get too loud. “Alright Princess,” Rhett said, picking her up onto his hip. “Now that your baby brother’s asleep, it’s your turn.” 

He could feel Kaya’s tiny little frame buzzing with the cold, her teeth chattering like machine gun fire as Rhett brought her into her room. “C’mon Princess,” he said. “Up in your bed.” 

Kaya climbed the ladder right up into her bed, snuggling under the sheets, the comforter and the thick duvet cover that you and Rhett both tossed over her, her little velveteen rabbit tucked under her arm. 

“I love you Princess,” Rhett whispered, kissing her forehead. 

“I love you too Daddy,” Kaya chirped. 

You and Rhett turned out the lights and headed back to your own room, settling under the thick covers and watching the snow fall outside your window as Dallas snored softly in the basket next to you. 

Rhett curled his arms around you and pulled you close, the both of you asleep in one of his zip-up hoodies under layers of thick, warm blankets that felt more like a giant weighted one. 

“Still wanna go somewhere warm soon?” you asked, stroking his jaw which felt like sandpaper. 

“I’m hopin soon Darlin,” he murmured. “I’m gettin cabin fever real bad.” 

“Don’t worry,” you chuckled. “When my students were having their Spanish lessons, I went online and managed to get some pretty good plane tickets for Florida.” 

Rhett’s eyes went wide, his jaw hanging open like a confused guppy. “I.....I....you....we’re goin to Florida?” 

“When the kids go on February break,” you informed him. “A cousin of mine left us the house down in Key West, free of charge.” 

Rhett half laughed, half cried with relief. “Aw Darlin, ya’ll didn’t have to do that.” 

You tilted his chin so that his eyes met yours. “And you think I haven’t noticed you looking depressed lately?” you told him. “C’mon, you need the sunshine. Plus we have amazing memories of that place.” 

“Hmmm, our honeymoon in Key West.” 

The two of you lay awake until your eyelids couldn’t stand it anymore, recalling those beautiful memories of yours and Rhett’s honeymoon in the Florida Keys, the sunshine, laying in the hammock for hours and spending an ungodly amount of time on the beach, leaving the two of you a sunburned mess. 

And you couldn’t wait to do it again with your family.

[smkkbert]

Time for a story - Blast Radius

For years, Felicity had believed that she knew what heartbreak and pain felt like. She had believed that she had experienced it multiple times in her life already. If that had been heartbreak and pain like she had thought, she didn’t know what it was she was feeling now. Whatever it was, it was worse than anything she had felt before.

There was a stitch in her chest with every beat of her heart, a physically palpable pain. She was sitting in a warm room on a comfortable armchair with a stuffed sloth in her arms. Yet, she felt like she was crouched down in a corner of a cold room with only darkness surrounding her. All light and happiness that this room had radiated hours ago seemed to have been suffocated.

She lifted the stuffed sloth to her nose and breathed in its scent. She could still smell Mia on it. The sloth smelled like Mia, and it hurt to know that she couldn’t just go to the crib, lift her into her arms and smell at her skin like she had smelled the toy before.

Mia had come into their lives so very unexpectedly. Suddenly she had been there. Oliver and Felicity hadn’t felt like they had missed anything before they had met her, but once she had been in their life, they hadn’t been able to think about the future of their lives without her. She had become a part of them so very naturally like the circumstances would have never made it look like.

Still, all that had been needed to rip her away from the family had been a single document that had been signed by a person in the right position. Oliver had turned himself in to save innocent children, and child welfare had decided to take Mia back into their custody. With Oliver’s confession and all of its consequences, the Queens couldn’t offer Mia a stable environment any longer. That was what Mr. Jacobs – the man from child welfare had said.

Since Mia had been taken away early this morning, Felicity had called Ms. Wheeler at least twenty times. She had been the social worker that had been in charge of their case so far. She had been the one that had decided they were the right family for Mia. She had even mentioned it to Oliver before he and Felicity had considered becoming Mia’s foster parents. Unfortunately, she was on a vacation and didn’t seem to be available.

Felicity knew that they had hundreds of things to do. They had to find Blood Rose because the city wouldn’t be safe until she was locked away. The team needed to meet up and figure out how to continue keeping the city safe without coming into the firing line. She needed to make sure her children – the one that hadn’t been taken from her – felt safe and protected. They needed an opportunity to share their thoughts of sadness and fear. After all, their father and their little sister had been taken from them within a few hours.

For now, just a brief span of time, Felicity needed to bathe in her sorrow though. She needed to feel all the pain that the last hours had brought over her. Only after she had done that, she’d be able to move forward and focus on everything else that was to do. She needed to give herself this moment though, or she wouldn’t be of much help for anyone.

Had they made the right decision?

Since Oliver had left at the hospice, she had asked herself that question again and again. Back in that moment when they had been kneeling in front of the bomb and figured out that they could not defuse it, it had seemed like it had been the only choice, but had it been?

Closing her eyes, Felicity took in a deep and trembling breath. Then she shook her head without opening her eyes. She couldn’t think like that.

If Oliver hadn’t turned himself in, a lot of children and their parents had died. The parents that hadn’t died, would have lived, but they would have spend the rest of their life knowing that their terminally ill children had been killed brutally. The parents would have lived knowing so and Oliver and Felicity too.

Her personal pain that came from being separated from Oliver and Mia was probably pale in comparison to that pain. Oliver would live. He would live separate from the family, locked away and robbed of all the joy that he had found in life, but he would live. Mia would love. She wouldn’t be with them, and they would probably never see her again, but she would live.

Lives had been saved. The stakes had been high, and they had been forced to pay an incredibly high price, but at least nobody had died. That was what Felicity had to focus on. It needed to be enough to give her the strength to carry on. She could always find out where they were and how they were doing even if she couldn’t be near them. That had to be enough because it was all that she-

The noise of hurried steps in the hallway made Felicity snap out of her thoughts. She shot a glance at her watch. She had been up here for half an hour, only after she had comforted the kids of course. They had all cried together and held each other. Eventually, she had just needed her moment to break down without the kids being there, so Raisa had taken over for her. She had seen that Felicity needed a moment to herself.

Now it was time to gather the little strength she had to be there for the children, Felicity knew. They knew how much she suffered in this situation too because she hadn’t hidden it from them. She couldn’t have even if she had tried to. She just had to be strong enough to show them that she saw some kind of light at the horizon because if she was hopeless, they’d be even more scared.

Getting out of the rocking chair, Felicity wiped her tears away and turned towards the door in time to see Oliver stepping into the hallway.

Felicity’s knees felt like they had turned to jelly. They threatened to buckle under her, at least they were shaking like they could.

When Felicity had talked to Laurel this morning, she hadn’t sounded very confident. Of course she had promised to do what she could do to bring Oliver home, but she hadn’t believed that she’d be able to do so. So Felicity hadn’t thought she’d see him again unless it was for the trial.

She looked at Oliver’s face. He had dark shadows under his eyes, making him look tired and exhausted. His lips were opened slightly as he was panting. His eyes were opened widely. He was looking at her in shock, and underneath it she could see the almost unbearable pain that she had been feeling these past hours too.

He knew what had happened since he had left, and now he could see it with his own eyes. The nursery looked unchanged, but it had lost everything that had made it this perfectly cozy room. Mia was gone.

Felicity didn’t know who made the first step. Maybe they just started walking at the same time. One moment there were several feet between them, the next not even a piece of paper would fit between them. Felicity’s arms were wrapped around Oliver’s neck, while his had bent around her waist. He had pulled her against him so tightly that she could only stand on the tips of her toes. Felicity pressed her nose against the side of Oliver’s neck and breathed him in. Oliver had his nose buried in her hair to do the same.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Felicity whispered, a sob almost drowning her words, “you’re really here.”

Her fingers clawed into the fabric of his shirt. She pressed herself against him even more tightly. She could feel every single one of his muscles against her body. It helped her believe that all of this was real.

“I’m back,” he whispered and kissed her ear, “at least for now.”

Realism, as much as it was needed, also lessened the joy. Oliver was here now, but he wouldn’t be here for long. At least neither of them expected him to.

Felicity shifted in Oliver’s arms, so she could put her forehead against Oliver’s. She lifted her hands to his cheeks and held his face like the treasure he was to her. They had both suffered a lot while they had been parted these last hours, not knowing whether the other was indeed safe. As short as this reunion might be, it gave Felicity back at least some of the strength she knew she needed.

Oliver captured Felicity’s lips in a kiss. It started our slow and gentle, a gesture of their love for each other. It was a kiss to make sure the other was alright and safe. It soon turned into more though as both of them felt a wave of arousal and need for the other. They needed to feel that the other was really here with them.

When their lips parted, their foreheads still touching, they were both breathless. Neither of them had said a word yet, but Felicity already knew that they felt the same. They wanted each other now, but they knew that the time wasn’t right. Their desires had to wait.

“Do the kids now you are back?”

“Yes, I was in the living room before I came upstairs.” Oliver nuzzled Felicity’s nose, stroking the tip of his against the nose of hers. “We need to talk to them.”

Felicity nodded her head. Her fingers scraped through Oliver’s short stubble for a moment, enjoying the way the shot beard tickled against her fingertips. She took in a deep breath before she opened her eyes and pulled back, nodding her head.

“Yes, I know.”

She let her hands fall off Oliver’s face and used her hands to wipe away the tears from her face once more. She shuddered slightly, but ignore it. Instead, she reached out her hand for Oliver, and they laced their fingers together. Hand in hand, they went downstairs.

Raisa and the kids were still in the living room. Neither of the children was playing or talking. They all just sat on the couch or the floor, doing nothing it seemed. It was a picture of utter sadness. Only the fact that they were all holding onto each other in some way – Tommy had rested his head against Emmy’s knees, while Emmy was holding Addie’s hand. Millie was sitting at the end of the couch, Addie’s feet in her lap and her hands on her little sister’s ankles.

When Oliver and Felicity stepped into the living room, they all lifted their gazes. Addie sat up and reached out her free hand to hold onto Millie. Neither of them said a word though. Just as quietly, Oliver and Felicity stepped to the couch table and sat down on the floor. They were facing the kids.

“We need to talk to you,” Oliver said, “and to William.”

Felicity nodded her head, grabbed her phone and started a video call. It didn’t take William longer than three seconds to take the call. His face appeared on the display, showing worry and fear. As soon as she saw Oliver with the Queens’ living room in the background, his face showed relief though.

“Dad, you’re home. How is that-“

“I got out on bail thanks to Laurel,” Oliver replied softly and smiled at his oldest son. “How much of what has happened did you hear in Boston?”

“Much. Almost everything, I guess.” William shot a brief look at Felicity. “I wanted to come back, but-“

“Starling City is not a safe place right now,” Oliver told him exactly what Felicity had told him last night already, “so as much as I would like to have you here, I’d be grateful if you stayed where you are. With Bruce’s security men, you are in good hands.”

William looked maybe not disappointed but certainly not happy at this. Felicity knew that he wanted to be here with the rest of the family. All of them would like him to be here, but it wasn’t the most sensible idea right now. They had to do what was safe, and William coming here wasn’t safe. At least not for now.

“I actually think that it would be safest if all of you-“

“Don’t even think about it,” Felicity told him, shooting him a pointed glare, “because there is no way that will happen.”

Oliver pursed his lips, but he nodded his head. He knew there was no point in telling Felicity that she should leave the city. She wouldn’t leave him. After all the years that they had spent together, Felicity guessed that he should know that.

“We need to stand together in this,” Felicity said towards the kids, filling the silence, “and we know that we are asking the impossible of you, but you need to trust us that this was the only choice we could have made.”

“Although we will lose daddy?” Addie asked.

“And lost Mia?” Tommy added.

“Hey,” Oliver said softly, reaching out a hand for Addie, and she slid off the couch to let Oliver pull her into his arms, “you will not lose me. I might not be able to be with you every day, but you will not lose me. I will stay in touch with you in whatever way I can.”

Neither of them looked particularly happy about the idea that Oliver might not spend every day with them. Felicity couldn’t hold it against them. The thought was making her stomach cramp too.

“What is going to happen next?” Emmy asked cautiously.

“Well, I will have to go to trial eventually,” Oliver replied with a sigh, “and then a jury and a judge decides what will happen and-“

“No,” Emmy interrupted him, shaking her head, “before that. What about Blood Rose?”

Felicity flinched. She still wasn’t used to hearing Emmy talk about the villains they were chasing. At ten years now, she did notice a lot more of what was going on that Felicity remembered sometimes. Since they had left the house last night, Emmy had certainly done her own little research. Usually, she wouldn’t have come far because Felicity had made sure that the kids would only get childproof results when researching, but Blood Rose must have hacked her way around those barriers.

“The rest of the team as well as Lyla and her team from work are looking for her.”

“Why don’t you?”

Oliver and Felicity exchanged a brief glance. They hadn’t talked about it, but they both seemed to be thinking the same.

“We didn’t want to do so before talking to you first,” Felicity explained, “because the police is already watching us closely.”

“Could they figure out that you are on the team and hacking your way through all kind of databases?” William asked. “Could they arrest you too?”

Felicity shrugged her shoulders. “I am very good at what I am doing, better than the average police experts, but you never know. Blood Rose might damage my security measures to make sure that I am outed to the police as well.”

“But what happens when she gets away?” Emmy asked. “She’s dangerous.”

Oliver nodded his head. “Which is why we need to help the team as much as we can from here. We won’t do it without your support though.”

“And we want you to be honest,” Felicity added, “because we know that this situation is hard for you as it is. We don’t want you to be even more scared. We would never want to put you through that.”

The kids looked at each other. An almost awkward silence settled. None of them said a word. Felicity tried to read the children’s faces, but she couldn’t say for sure what they were thinking. It was fascinating to see how they seemed to have built their own way of communicating just through looks. Oliver and Felicity had their way for that too.

“You should do it,” Tommy said eventually, “but be careful.”

“We will be,” Oliver replied, “and I promise you that I will do whatever I can to make sure that there will be one parent with you while you are growing up.”

He spread the one arm that wasn’t tightly wrapped around Addie already. The kids didn’t need to be told twice. They fell around his neck, all hugging him tightly. Felicity wrapped her arms around Oliver and the kids from behind and rested her head on his shoulder. Her eyes were focused on William on the display, and she mouthed a silent “We love you”. He smiled and mouthed back, “I love you too, Mom.”

→ → → → →

“Blood Rose really is an evil mastermind.” Felicity’s fingers were sprinting over the keyboard of her computers at home. “If she wasn’t so evil, I’d actually be impressed.”

“Curtis tried to follow the trace of her videos back to her location, but even with the resources at A.R.G.U.S., he said it would take days if not weeks,” Lyla replied, “so maybe we should try something different.”

“Nobody seems to know where is either.” John was slightly out of breath. “I interrogated whoever would know something like that, but nobody seems to know anything. “Arsenal, Black Bow, were you successful at least?”

“Negative.” Dominic’s voice was low. “Nobody has heard of her or Midas before.”

“The Triad has heard of Midas, but they don’t know about Blood Rose.” Tommy sighed. “It’s like she is a ghost.”

Felicity was used to sitting behind her computers, while the rest of the team was out of the field. That was how they had worked for more than a decade now. Tonight, things were different though. She wasn’t in the bunker but in her office at home that Oliver had arranged for her. She wasn’t alone either because Oliver was pacing up and down the room behind her. The team had spread, so they were at different locations in the city, trying to gather whatever information about Blood Rose they could possibly get a hand on. Lyla had joined in on the mission tonight from the A.R.G.U.S. headquarters.

Everything was different. Everyone was more focused. They were using additional resources, and still it seemed like they weren’t getting closer to their goal.

Ruben Midas had been an excellent hacker. He had been so good that he had had a chance of being hired at QI. At least he had applicated for a job there. Felicity had had a bad feeling about him, so she hadn’t hired him. He had taken revenge by hacking into the bio-stimulants and causing terrible harm to the people that had trusted her and Bruce with their disabilities. He had been good, and he must have taught Blood Rose quite some things.

Maybe that was the way to find her, Felicity thought.

While the team was talking about where to go next, Felicity started looking into Midas. She needed to know where he had been in his life and who he had been with. Somewhere in that flood of information, she needed to find the trace that would lead them to Blood Rose.

Felicity only followed the ongoing conversation with one ear. John, Tommy and Dominic wanted to give it one more try before they would interrupt the search for the night. They would have their hands full then because there was no doubt that at least some criminals would use the Green Arrow’s absence to wreak havoc.

Midas was suspiciously unsuspicious. He had been when she had done her first research on him back when he had applied for the job at QI already. Back then, Felicity had thought that maybe her feeling about him had just been wrong. She had trusted that feeling more than the results of her research though, so she hadn’t given him that job. She hadn’t trusted that feeling enough to dig a little deeper though.

Looking back, that might have been one of the most terrible mistakes that she had ever made. She wouldn’t repeat it though. Tonight she would dig deeper.

So Felicity hacked herself as deep into Midas’ life as she possibly could. She followed his life from his birth and the places he had had lived to the schools he had been to and the companies he had worked for. Even now that she was digging deeper, Felicity couldn’t say that she was finding anything that showed how dangerous Midas had really been. The only time he had attracted the attention of the police was when he had received a speeding ticket.

“What’s wrong?”

She had barely noticed that something was wrong when Oliver had already noticed it too. The little reaction she must have shown, had been enough for him to. He could read her that easily.

“Something rings a bell here for me…” She frowned, looking at the time and date of that speeding ticket. “The speeding ticket is the only link I could find to his criminal activities. I mean apart from the traces that we used back when he was hacking the bio-stimulants.”

“It’s weird that that’s the only criminal record someone like him has.” Oliver stepped right behind her chair and rested his arms on the headrest. “Shouldn’t there be more?”

“There probably is,” Felicity replied, “and I might find it with a little more time, but it’s the speeding ticket that just reminds me of something. I just don’t know what it is.”

Letting her fingers fly over the keyboard of her computer once more, Felicity compared the speeding ticket she had found of Midas to all the data that she had collected in the last years since she had joined the team. It barely took three seconds for the computer to find a match.

“Is that-?”

Felicity nodded her head, staring at the match that was made with a frown. Midas’ speeding ticket should have indeed rung a bell. Her work had made her stumble about a speeding ticket that had been taken at the same place and at the same day with barely a few seconds between them. Just like with Midas, it had been the record of somewhat criminal activity that she had found when she had looked into the person that had decided to challenge Oliver on the run for mayor – Rose Obold.

Suddenly, a lot of pieces seemed to fall into place.

“Rose Obold and Rose Blood are the same person.” Felicity looked at the display, and she felt like she had done a simple IQ test and found out that she was the stupidest person on the planet. “Obold and Blood – it’s an anagram. She has been right under our noses the entire time and we haven’t noticed.”

She turned her head back over her shoulder to see Oliver. He looked at the display with just as much shock as she did.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Oliver asked between gritted teeth.

“There is barely any information to find about Midas and Rose Obold. Both of them left no traces in their lives other than their addresses, schools and work places. They are inexistent if it wasn’t for that. The only other evidence that they have ever existed is a speeding ticket. They got it at the same place with barely a couple seconds between.”

Oliver started pacing up and down again. He had to feel like a tiger in a cage. He was used to be out there. Now he couldn’t leave the house.

“Rose Obold showed up in Starling City months after Midas died here and announced her candidacy, but nobody had ever heard about her before that. Everyone was surprised because nobody expected that someone else would decide to run for the position. Maybe that was her way of staying as close to you as possible. She wanted her revenge, and this is it.”

Blood Rose’s life had been turned upside down when Midas had been killed. Felicity couldn’t imagine it any other way. She had decided to seek revenge by making sure that Oliver lost his family like she had lost his. When he was locked away where he couldn’t see his family and lost his purpose in life as well as the support of the city, he wouldn’t have anything left.

She had been attacking them all along, and they hadn’t seen it.

Oliver didn’t seem to be quite so sure that this was true though. Maybe the fact that some villain had been so close to them and he hadn’t noticed it was just as hard on him as the fact that she hadn’t made that connection between Rose Obold and Rose Blood was on her. While she had already accepted her mistake Oliver seemed to be in denial.

“Are you sure?” he asked again, coming to a stop in the middle of the office. Only a moment later he started pacing again. “All of that could be coincidences.”

Felicity called up Blood Rose’s video and extracted a single frame of it. Rose Blood was looking right into the camera. She then called up a photo of Rose Obold and showed the two of them side by side. When she had tried to use her facial recognition program on Rose Blood last night, it hadn’t worked because the scarf that covered the lower part of Rose Blood’s face hadn’t left enough of her face revealed to use it. With the direct comparison she could at least calculate the probability of these two faces being a match.

The probability was around eighty-three percent.

Oliver came to another stop. His fingers rubbed together nervously. His muscles tensed. Maybe he wasn’t ready to accept the truth yet, but he had doubts.

“We need these last seventeen percent,” he said with firm voice, “or we will attack the very person that Starling City will need when I go to prison.”

His words made Felicity’s heart ache. She had tried to ignore the impending unhappiness that would come over this family. It was there already, but they had been granted a little delay, at least in parts. Mia had already been taken from them, but Oliver had returned. If only for a short while.

“I will go to her home and-“

“No way,” Oliver interrupted her with a shake of his head. “Our children cannot lose both of their parents.”

“I have broken several laws while I have been sitting here in our home. What’s the difference when I-“

“The difference,” he said softly, stepping in front of her and putting his hands to her shoulders, “is that as long as we are here together, I can always say that it was me. That is if the police would ever find out because I know that you don’t leave traces when you are hacking. When you go out, one wrong movement, the loss of a single hair or whatever could leave a trace. We are taking enough risks as it is. Let’s not tempt our luck.”

Oliver’s eyes were locked with hers intently. He didn’t say it like that, but he was begging her not to go. As much as Felicity wanted to go and confirm this suspicion herself, she couldn’t deny Oliver her wish. She nodded her head.

“We need to tell the team,” Oliver suggested.

Again, Felicity nodded. She took a moment to orientate herself. She had lost her focus on the conversation of the team entirely and needed to be sure that they were ready to hear these news. Since neither of them was in a fight or needed their immediate focus elsewhere, she turned her comm back on.

“I think we found a lead on Rose Blood,” Felicity told them, “but we need to confirm it. The subject’s too sensitive.”

“What do you mean? Too sensitive?” Tommy asked back.

“Rose Obold might be Rose Blood.”

“What?” Lyla asked sharply. “The mayoral candidate.”

“Sensitive indeed,” John mumbled.

“That is why we need to confirm it before we do anything about it,” Felicity said, “so someone needs to make a little visit at Obold’s home and… I don’t know… find some link to Rose Blood or Midas. I would do it myself, but-“

“I will do it,” John volunteered immediately.

“I will join you,” Nick replied.

Felicity nodded her head. They could always count on the team. They would always take care of each other.

“Curtis is here now,” Lyla said, “so you should spend your time with the kids.”

Felicity looked back over her shoulder at Oliver. Neither of them liked the idea to sit back and enjoy the night. Too much could be happening tonight. The whole city knew that the Green Arrow would not come to save the people in need after all. Although there was a team of vigilantes now, it was the Green Arrow that held the most respect. Everyone remembered that it had started with the Hood, and that guy in particular hadn’t been to mess with.

With Curtis and A.R.G.U.S. at their side, the team had all the help that they could possibly need though. The city was in good hands, so Felicity and Oliver had to take a step back. It wouldn’t be fair to the children if they didn’t.

“Good luck, everyone,” Felicity said, “and be careful.”

She switched off her comm and turned to Oliver. He was standing behind her chair, his arms crossed in front of his chest. He seemed to be in the same conflict as she was. Felicity got up and approached him. She put a hand to his forearm and smiled half-heartedly.

“It’s not the first time they are out there without our back-up,” she whispered, “they will be safe.”

Oliver sucked in a deep breath and nodded his head slowly. Both of them could only hope that Felicity was right.

→ → → → →

“I am scared, Daddy.”

Oliver wrapped his arms around Millie even more tightly. She was almost completely hidden against his chest now. Dipping his head forward, he kissed the crown of her head. His lips lingered there, his nose pressed to her hairline, so he could breathe her in.

He had known that it wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t thought that it would be this hard.

For years, he had done everything he could to keep this city safe. He had spent his nights, putting on a suit and a mask and chasing criminals. He had taken a job in the politics to make a change. He had used his family’s fortune to help where neither the Green Arrow nor the mayor could. He had even given up his freedom and the life he had built to save innocent people from a villain.

Now the city was under attack once more. Their home was far from the centrum. The neighborhood was full of single-family homes on extensive estates. It was very quiet here most of the times. The bird in the trees, the barking of the dogs in the neighborhood and the kids playing were usually the only noises to be heard.

Tonight was different. Tonight was loud.

Two hours ago, Oliver had been standing at the window and taken in the chaos that Staling City seems to have fallen into. There had been smoke of fires that had been set in the center of the city. The noise of breaking glass had filled the night. People were running through the streets even here. There was a riot, and it seemed to be everywhere.

With what Oliver had heard and seen from the bedroom window, he could imagine what it looked like in the Glades or even downtown. It was too much for the team. They were good. They didn’t need him. They had saved the city for years too, and they knew what they were doing. With fires, demolitions and riots all over the city, they couldn’t be everywhere where they were needed. Oliver could just hope that they could be where they were needed the most, so innocent people didn’t lose their lives.

He had thought about contacting the team and offering help, but Oliver wasn’t sure how helpful he could be from here. Even if he was out there with them, he wouldn’t be of much help. It was just too much for them to happen. They would need hundreds of hands to help.

Before he could have come to that conclusion, the bedroom door had opened though, and Addie had stood in the door with her stuffed donkey clutched to her chest. She had woken up from the noises, and now she couldn’t fall back asleep. Oliver and Felicity had told her to come to their bed instead. They had snuggled up to her there and comforted her as much as possible for them. In the two hours that had passed since, all the kids had come here one by one.

There wasn’t much place left in the bed. Felicity was lying on one side of the bed, he on the other. Addie, Millie; Tommy and Emmy were lying between them. Hawk was lying at the children’s feet, his head resting on Felicity’s calves. Neither of them was sleeping.

“Do you think the team is safe?” Emmy asked quietly. “Uncle John and Uncle Roy and-“

“They know what they are doing,” Oliver replied in a whisper and stroked the tips of his fingers against her cheek, “and they will be extra careful.”

“Do you think Mia’s safe?”

Tommy’s question made Oliver’s heart break for the thousandth time in the last hours. Mia had been on his mind all day. The thought that she wasn’t here with them was almost unbearable. He hated it. That the kids were just as worried about Mia’s wellbeing in this chaotic night just broke his heart all the more.

She should be here with them, Oliver thought. Mia should be here with them. She was safest here. He hoped that she was protected and loved, but he doubted that he’d ever be convinced of that until she was back with them.

“I am sure she is,” Oliver whispered, but it didn’t sound convincing, “and so are we. I know that you are scared, but nobody is going to come here. Even if someone tried, Uncle Bruce’s friends are still out there to take care of us, and mommy and I are here too.”

“How long will it be like this?” Emmy asked.

“I don’t know,” Oliver replied honestly, “but I am sure this will be just at night. As soon as the others have rested after this night, we will think about what more we can do to keep the city safe.”

“You need more heroes, Daddy,” Millie suggested.

“Like Uncle Bruce and Uncle Barry,” Addie added.

Oliver smiled sadly although the kids couldn’t see it in the darkness. They had been raised to know what Oliver had learned the hard way. Life was easier when you had people that you could trust on, and you had to trust them.

“They have their own cities to protect,” Felicity replied, “and I am sure it’s not easy in Gotham City or Central City right now either. When one hero is questioned, all of them are questioned.”

“So what are you going to do?”

Oliver almost wished that the kids were all younger. They shouldn’t understand even a tiny bit of what was going on here. They should think that everything was alright.

“Listen,” Oliver said softly, “I know that you are worried, and I know that you want to help, but those are my problems and mommy’s problems and the team’s problems. They shouldn’t be yours. All you have to do is to make sure that you are okay, so tell us when you need anything. Mommy and I have a lot on our minds right now and you are certainly part of it, the most important part really, but if you ever feel like you need something and-“

“We know, Daddy,” Addie whispered and snuggled up to him even more, “we will tell you.”

Oliver felt tears welling in his eyes. Their children had everything they needed to live happy lives. They knew to trust on the help of others, and they knew to ask for the things they needed. Those two competences were what would make for a happy life, Oliver thought. They wouldn’t get the childhood that he had wanted for them. They wouldn’t get the life he had wanted for them, but they had gotten that.

That had to be enough.

→ → → → →

“Mister Tommy, you should eat your muffin.”

Tommy lifted the muffin and looked at it like it was a piece of eggplant, his most hated vegetable. He shot Raisa a glance who smiled at him encouragingly. He didn’t want to let her down, so released a long breath and brought the muffins to his lips. Before he had taken a bite, he put the muffin back to the plate though. Lowering his head, he pushed his hands under his butt and shook his head.

Felicity looked at her own untouched breakfast. She hadn’t eaten anything either. The bare thought of eating made her nauseated. For the benefit of her children, she took a fork of her scrambled egg and put it to her mouth. She had to chew long as her mouth felt dry.

“It’s very yummy, Raisa,” Felicity said with a smile, “thank you for taking the time and effort to serve such a great breakfast to us.”

Raisa smiled softly. Felicity could see in Raisa’s eyes that she knew what she was doing and why she was doing it. She wanted to make the children eat, so she made sure that they saw that she was eating too and that they knew that making this breakfast had taken time and effort to make. Even if they would just eat some bites, it would be worth it.

The kids shot each other cautious glances. Emmy, who probably suspected what her mother was doing, was the first to give in. She smiled at Raisa gratefully and took a bite. She looked like chewing was as difficult for her as it had been for Felicity before. She was doing this for her little sibling just like Felicity had done it for her children before.

When Emmy caught Felicity’s gaze, they both smiled at each other. Felicity mouthed a thank you, and took another bite of the scrambled egg. Eventually, the other kids followed her and Emmy’s lead.

“Where is daddy?” Millie asked eventually.

“He talking to the team,” Felicity replied with a sad smile, “to talk about what happened last night.”

“Shouldn’t you be there too?” Emmy asked.

“We thought that at least one of us should have breakfast with you. Daddy can tell me what they told him.”

“You should go.” Tommy took a sip of his orange juice. “It’s fine.”

Felicity looked at the faces of her children. She saw no disagreement. Smiling with gratitude, she got up.

“Promise me that you will keep eating.” She took her plate to take it upstairs. “You know that you don’t have to eat all of it if you are not hungry enough, but eat something, okay?”

The kids nodded in agreement. Felicity kissed Millie’s head and turned to Raisa. The woman who was a family member and not just a maid nodded her head slightly. She would make sure that the kids would eat and that they were taken care of after breakfast too. Felicity squeezed her hand when she walked past her before she went upstairs.

On the way to her office where she knew she’d find Oliver, she caught sight of Hawk. He was lying in the hallway in front of Mia’s nursery. His head was resting on her stuffed sloth – wherever he had found that. He was whining quietly. Felicity could feel his pain as it was an echo of hers.

“I miss her too, Buddy,” Felicity whispered, crouching down next to Hawk and petting his head, and put her plate to the floor next to him “but I need your help here.”

Hawk released another low whine, but he got up and started eating her breakfast. Felicity smiled in relief and kissed his head.

Letting Hawk enjoy the breakfast, she turned towards the home office and stepped into it. Oliver was sitting in her chair, taking to the team on video call. As soon as he noticed that she had come in, he got up and gestured for her to take the chair. He took position behind it, one hand on Felicity’s shoulder.

Felicity looked at the faces on the display.  Lyla and John were at A.R.G.U.S., just as Curtis though he seemed to be in a different room. Lyla and Tommy were at the bunker, Roy at Verdant and Thea at her home. Nick was sitting in a patrol car, McKenna Hall next to him.

“Nobody died,” McKenna reported, “but there have been damages of high cost. There have been several fires, luckily only in business buildings, so no family lost their homes. There have also been burglary, thefts and assaults. Around twenty people were taken to the hospital. Some of the riots, the least of them though, were created by people that demonstrated against the arrest of the Green Arrow.”

The city was on Oliver’s side. The law might now be, but the city was. It had already been proven when the police hadn’t wanted to arrest Oliver and when the Assistant District Attorney had agreed on letting Oliver go on bail.

“Riots only cause chaos,” Oliver said, “they never do anything good.”

“At least we know what you haven’t lost the city’s support,” Felicity said with low voice, “but we need to think about how to keep the city safer than it was last night. I know everyone did what they could do, but-“

“-it was just too much,” Roy agreed with a nod of his head, “so we need to do better.”

“And we need to stop Blood Rose,” Felicity said.

“She hasn’t done anything since you have turned yourself in,” John said, “which is suspicious. I thought the fact that you got out on bail would be enough for her to take the next big step. She’s been quite so far.”

“And Rose Obold wasn’t heard from either,” Laurel added, “which is already reported on in the media. This could be her time to shine.”

Felicity sighed. “That doesn’t sound good. As long as we know where she is and what she is doing, we might be able to keep her in check. If she’s somewhere in the underground, she could be planning… I don’t know… the next big thing.”

Lyla nodded. “We are keeping our eyes on her. If she makes any move, we will know it.”

“Maybe it is best if I join you tonight,” Oliver suggested, “because if the city knows that I am still there-“

“The Assistant District Attorney would go to the judge and make sure that you get back to jail,” Laurel told him firmly. “He agreed to the bail because he knows you did good for the city, but if you don’t stay at home as ordered, he will have no choice. The prosecution cannot lose its face.”

“Laurel is right, Ollie.” Thea looked at him intently. “You need to stay at home. Maybe when there is more time, we will find a way to get you out of this without being locked away for the rest of your life. Maybe there will be a way.”

“I-“

Felicity’s phone rang, interrupting the conversation. She hurried to pull it out of the back pocket of her jeans and look at the display.

“The hospital?” Oliver asked, looking at the display from over her shoulder. “Who could that be?”

“I don’t know.” Felicity shot him a brief glance before she took the call. “Felicity Queen.”

“Felicity, thank God.” Dr. Manning sounded honestly relieved at the sound of her voice. “Look, I am actually not allowed to call you. It’s even against law, and I could get into so much trouble when someone found out, but-“

“What’s wrong?” Felicity asked. “Why are you calling?”

There was a brief pause. Although it was so very short, it was enough for Felicity’s mind to start spinning. The thoughts were racing through her head. Dr. Manning, a specialist in neonatology and pediatrics, sounded sincerely worried. That could only lead her to one conclusion. “Felicity, you need to come to the hospital,” she said urgently, “it’s Mia.”

[pleathewrites]

bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 2 excerpt — sick care read full story here

The second time he wakes up, he is still horribly ill but much more lucid. This time, Touya has enough strength to call out for Keigo and demand the hero take him to the bathroom, dropping to his knees the second he gets the toilet seat up. 

He gags but nothing comes out. It feels like agony.

He moans, tipping forward to rest his forehead on the cool toilet seat, “Why do I feel like this?”

Keigo’s warm and familiar hands are on his back, moving in up and down motions while Touya hears the whoosh of stray feathers moving about.

“You fought Endeavor. You almost died.”

He’s lucid enough to hear the disappointed tone in Keigo’s voice. He shuts his eyes, “And? If I’m not dead, means the bastard got away.”

“Dabi…” Keigo’s voice was wary, “Shouto stopped the fight. Iced down your fire before the both of you burned to death.” 

Horror runs through Touya’s already pained body, “Sh-Shou… to?” His body lurches, scrambling up to the bowl of the toilet and gags over it, nothing coming out except the wads of spit that keep flooding his mouth. 

“Wha — ” Heavy coughs racked through his body, “Wh’the hell — ” and he can’t even get a single sentence out. 

Keigo starts to shush him, “There’s time for all that later, you’re not well.”

When the coughing dies down, there’s still that horrible churning in Touya’s stomach, and he knows he’s not leaving this toilet until he throws up whatever toxin plagues his stomach. 

But — “I-I can’t. Get it out,” desperate whimpers leave his mouth and Touya has never felt so pathetic.

“Do you…” Keigo begins and Touya rests his forehead against the seat again, turning his head so he can look at the hero while resting his temple on the cool rim, “Do you want some help?” Keigo raises his own hand up for Touya’s viewing, bending his first two fingers a bit. 

Touya panics, his chest tightening in such a painful way, “That’s so — ” He feels his head weakly shake against hard porcelain, shame filling his body, “No, that’s disgusting. I can do it myself.”

The hand on his back moves to his brow, a thumb smoothing down the hairs gently, “Your seams. You could get sick in them. You’re already fighting infection, we’ve worked so hard to get you this far. Please.”

Keigo sounds so gentle. His golden eyes are wide and soft and he hasn’t looked away from Touya’s own grotesque and hideous face for a second. 

“I…” He feels so ashamed. 

Without all of this, Touya knows he’s already so horrendous to look at, to comprehend as human. Especially compared to Keigo, who is beautiful and strong and so, so alive, health radiating in every square inch. This Keigo who has spent countless nights holding Touya, whispering pretty little lies in his mangled ear, squeezed his body like Touya was also something alive, instead of the half-rotted near-dead man he is. He can’t even imagine how ugly he looks now, after a fight that’s left him in this kind of condition. And now, Keigo wants to stick his fingers down his throat and make an even more disgusting mess of Touya?

‘He’ll never look at me the same.’ 

He tries to find another excuse, “Wha’bout your talons? Pretty sure you’ll end up tearin’ m’throat out.” 

Keigo only gives him a knowing smile, “Take a closer look, Hot Stuff.”

Touya does and he gasps. All of Keigo’s talons have been cut off, down to the nib.

Rage and worry for the hero run through Touya’s broken body, “The fuck?” 

Keigo’s eyes widened a bit, “Wait, don’t worry! Relax, s’not like that. There was a real reason for this.”

Touya’s body relaxes a bit, relieved at the bird’s lighthearted tone. He raises his eyebrow, as if to say, ‘continue’. 

Keigo laughs a bit, that small and soft laugh that Touya had burned in his memory and stitched into his heart, “They kept ripping through the latex gloves. Natsou eventually told me that I’d either have to cut them down or opt-out of treating you. Did you know, apparently, there’s a shit ton of bacteria that lives underneath our fingernails?” 

Touya weakly tips his lips and raises his hand up, attempting to show Keigo his own short and immaculately self-manicured nails.

Keigo laughs again, a bit louder this time, “Of course,” and takes Touya’s fingers in his own hand to deliver a hard kiss to his nails. Touya’s heart feels stuck in his throat. Keigo sets their hands down, “Anyways, I kinda panicked at the idea of not being able to help you, and bit all ‘em off. Filed them clean once you were stable and asleep, though. I know how to groom them so they grow right. So, no worries, alright?” 

Touya’s heart is beating so fast and he honestly isn’t sure if that’s to do with his condition or this completely unreal man in front of him. 

“I’m not worth this, Kei.” 

And there it is, out loud and laid bare. 

“You don’t get to decide that on your own, Dabi.”

If Touya could cry, he thinks he would. Instead, his dry eyes burn and he has to close them. 

Warm hands cup his cheek tenderly, the warmth of Keigo’s fingertips dulled by the layer of bandages that dress whatever wound had opened in the fight. 

“I don’t mind doing this for you, baby. I want to. So, please, let me help you.” 

Touya feels his walls lower and his shame starts to recede. He feels so awful, so tired and weak, he feels like he’s going to die. He knows he needs to throw up, get rid of the poison that churns inside him.

He opens his eyes and nods, “... Okay.” 

Keigo absolutely beams at him, and stands up to wash his hands. 

When he’s done, he kneels back down and scoots next to Touya, raising his hand until his two fingers rest at Touya’s mouth and Touya’s own fingers wrap around Keigo’s wrist as he repositions himself to face over the toilet bowl.

“Slap my wrist if you want me to stop, okay?”

Touya nods before opening his mouth. 

Keigo’s fingers dip into the heat of Touya’s mouth and momentarily rest on his tongue, his golden eyes paying attention. 

Touya weakly nods his head, giving Keigo the go-ahead. 

Keigo’s fingers push further, down his throat and deeper until Touya begins to gag, but Touya only squeezes his wrist and he doesn’t slap, so Keigo keeps going until a warm rush of bile floods over his fingers and he pulls out that very second, and Touya is finally able to relieve his stomach of all its toxic contents. 

It hurts, but he focuses on Keigo’s soft coos, “... You’re doing so good. Let it out, baby, it’s okay, you’ll feel so much better. I got you, you’re doing so good...”

Touya feels so gross, he hates the sound, and the cramping of his stomach seems like it’s never going to end, but he keeps squeezing onto Keigo’s wrist like an anchor, and wills himself to get through this. 

When it finally stops, his stomach feels completely empty and he doesn’t think he remembers a time where he’s felt so relieved. 

He spits one final time in the toilet, takes a deep breath in, and tips his head back. 

Keigo’s clean hand wipes Touya’s damp bangs back from his sweaty forehead, “You feel better?” 

A feather flushes the toilet.

Touya chances a look at Keigo's face with his peripheral vision and sees that gentle look hasn’t gone away, “Yeah. Much better. Thanks.” 

A few feathers hover around Touya’s face and they’re carrying wet paper towels, “Can I clean you up a little?”

Touya nods and lets one feather dab at his mouth and another at his forehead. 

When he’s cleaned up, Keigo holds up a vaguely familiar glass, “Same deal, swish around then spit out.” Touya does so, and Keigo presses a closed-mouthed kiss to his lips, “Thank you for letting me help you.”

Touya feels his cheeks heat in a blush and hopes there are enough bandages around his face to hide it.

He feels much more clear now that the nausea is gone, and he takes a look around at the down-right luxurious bathroom they sit in, and the tube he didn’t realize until now connected into his hand, trailing his eyes up to an almost-empty bag of what he thinks could either be nutrients or antibiotics on a rolling IV stand.  

He scoots until his back rests against the foggy glass of the shower, “Alright, Birdy. Care to explain what’s going on now?”

Keigo stands up to wash his hands and looks at Touya over his shoulder with a raised brow, “I think it’s you that needs to do some explaining,” and turns his gaze back to the sink, “But I’ll ask you about your side of things later when you’re well, and the sun is up.” 

Touya fidgets a bit in shame. He never expected to actually live after the day he sought out his father. He doesn’t know what to say, never planned for any kind of confrontation. That’s what The Will was for. 

‘Shit.’ 

His eyes widened, “Kei, how long have I been out? Do people think I’m dead?”

Keigo wipes his hands and sits down next to him, “You woke up after a week the first time, and it's been about four days since. And, no, I assume the general public just thinks you’ve disappeared, all mysterious and villain-like. Don’t worry about the League, I’ve been giving Twice updates. Why d’you ask?”

Touya shakes his head, absolutely not ready for this conversation, “Later,” At least he doesn't have to call Giran to let him know he’s still alive. His death would have been all over national news if it actually happened — a win that hero-society would surely boast about. “Tell me what you know, and how my… You keep bringing up Natsou, and I’m pretty sure you said Shouto ‘stopped me’. What do you mean by that?”

“Oh,” Keigo perks up, “Natsou and Shouto are asleep in the guest bedroom.”

Touya feels like he’s going to faint, “What?” 

Keigo’s head falls back to the glass and he rolls it over until he’s facing Touya, “Like I said, Shouto stopped you. He’s Endeavor’s intern this year, y’know?” Touya shakes his head but doesn’t say anything. He didn’t know. Keigo continues, “He told me he heard your conversation with Endeavor, where you basically outed yourself, which I’m pretty sure was on purpose. When I arrived at the scene, he didn’t want you arrested and taken away, so I brought him here with me. He's been coming back ever since, both of 'em.”

It takes Touya a few minutes to digest all this information, “And where is ‘here’?” 

Keigo smiles, “My apartment. I have an empty one that the Commission owns but I bought this one in private with cash,” He winks.

Touya laughs a bit, “Look at you.”

“Yeah,” Keigo laughs, too, before biting his lip, “You were in real bad shape, Dabs. Shouto said you needed a doctor and he was right. I have no real medical training, just basic first aid. He’s the one who called Natsou.”

‘Shouldn’t heroes have medical training…?’ 

Touya’s eyebrows furrowed, “Wait a minute…” He did the calculations in his head, “Natsou’s four years younger than me. That means he would have just graduated university — not a doctor, Birdbrain.”

“I said the same thing!” Keigo exclaimed, “I seriously wondered if Shouto lost his mind or something. But — did you know, your brother is apparently a genius? Yeah, graduated from university early, and is already in his second year of medical school. So, yeah, still a student but — med-student is better than anything Shouto and I were ever gonna get.”   

A smile involuntarily tugs at Touya’s lips, proud of his brother’s achievements but bittersweet in the way he wasn’t there to see it with his own eyes, “Good for him.”

Time flies and life really just goes on by.

“Yeah, you lot are really something else. The Todorokis.” 

Touya rolls his head to give Keigo a look, but it’s softened with a smile. Keigo leans forward to tip his own forehead against Touya’s and he’s finally healthy enough — kind of — to truly appreciate the familiar contact of Keigo’s cool skin against his own fever.  

“So, I’m gonna have to face them both in the morning, is what you’re saying?” 

“Can’t help you out of this one, buddy.”

“Hmm, you could kick them out?”

“I am not doing that.”

read full story here

my other works

[blackswaneuroparedux]

The artist and the soldier: the unlikely friendship of Lucian Freud and Brigadier Andrew Parker Bowles

The painter makes real to others his innermost feelings about all that he cares for. A secret becomes known to everyone who views the picture through the intensity with which it is felt.

- Lucian Freud

Lucian Freud’s majestic The Brigadier, painted between 2003 and 2004, is a powerful, intimate, portrait of Brigadier Andrew-Parker Bowles, a dashing cavalry officer and ex-husband of  Queen Consort Camilla, and thus a venerable member of the British establishment and aristocracy.

Steeped in the traditions of military portrayals, Freud’s painting of a British army brigadier is transformed into a resolutely contemporary painting by his legendary attention to detail and lucid brushstrokes. It evokes the spirit of the grand military portraits that populate art history, yet in Freud’s hands the lucid brushstrokes produce a portrait that captures the contradictions of the modern world in a very contemporary way.

But the portrait also tells a story of a most unlikely friendship struck up by an artist and his subject. They made an unlikely pair: the roguish painter in his eighties, who famously enjoyed a flutter and a fight, and the highly decorated soldier with impeccable royal connections.

Although Freud died in 2011, Parker Bowles is always ready to share his story of his friendship with the uncompromising and difficult late artist. He most famously tells of one story when, “‘At one stage a group of Americans were taking flash photos, which Lucian hated, so he threw a bread roll at one of them. The man complained,’ recalls Parker Bowles. And how did you react? ‘Well,’ he pauses. ‘I was just a tiny bit embarrassed.’ Luckily, the proprietor was on hand to mediate. ‘He came over and said to the American, “I’m terribly sorry but Mr Freud is allowed to do that.” That was it.’ That always gets a bellyful laugh out of the ex-brigadier Andrew Parker Bowles (APB as he’s often tagged).

If you visit Parker Bowles’ cottage in the Cotswolds, you’ll see many interests bits of memorabilia. The last British Union flag that flew in Rhodesia, where he served, is resting on a radiator. Nestled on a shelf amidst medals and trophies is a small bottle of stitches preserved in brine – wrenched from Parker Bowles’ back after he broke it during the hurdle race at Ascot. In another is a lump of cartilage extracted from his knee and pickled for posterity (the culmination of rugby knocks and jumping out of a plane). All, in their own way, are emblems of the rugged masculinity and swashbuckling adventure he exudes even at 83 years old. One can see why the irascible Lucian Freud liked him.

But in the corner of one room are photographs of his old friend, Lucian Freud. They hang next to a bronze bust of Freud’s head and a framed letter: ‘My dear Andrew, since even your more foolish actions have their reasons – why is it that I haven’t seen you for so long? Can we have a ride, a drink, a jaunt or a fight? Please write. Lucian.’

The pair first met in 1983, when Parker Bowles, then Commanding Officer of the Household Cavalry Mounted Regiment, received a request from Lucian Freud, who wanted to paint a horse. Parker Bowles chose the horse he thought was best at staying still and Lucian painted away. ‘When he finished, he gave the trooper holding the horse a sketch and said, “Don’t just throw it away, if you want to sell it, go to my agent and he’ll buy it off you.”’ With the money, the trooper bought a house. ‘A rather nice start. I got nothing as a result,’ says Parker Bowles in mock dismay. ‘Except I got to know him.’

Before long, a friendship blossomed. Together, they’d go riding, galloping around Hyde Park, Freud’s scruffy suit covered in paint, his white silk scarf billowing in the wind. ‘Freud wouldn’t wear a hard hat. So it would be me chasing after him, trying to slow him down. Him going flat out.’

Over the years, they’d visit the National Portrait Gallery at night, which would be opened especially for Freud. They went to Paris for an exhibition and to Ireland to see Freud’s bookmaker, who had accrued more than 20 pictures in lieu of gambling debts. They watched the Ascot races, and ‘as I recall, he lost a million pounds betting.’ Eventually Freud stopped gambling. ‘When I asked why, he said, “Well, now I have enough money.” The joy and fun was being short of money and losing it and having people hammering on his door.’ Those debtors, it was said, included the notorious East End gangsters, the Krays.

And yet, amongst all the liveliness, Freud also found the time to work prolifically. He painted well into his eighties, burning through sittings - a nude mother one morning, her nude daughter in the afternoon. Perhaps it was only inevitable that one day the bell would toll for Andrew Parker-Bowles.

It was 2003. At first APB said no. he said, “Look, I have things to do.”’ He had recently left the army and was putting together a few business prospects. No matter, said Freud: “It will only take a few months. It’s a head and shoulders.”’

They’d talked about James Jacques Tissot’s glamorous portrait in the National Portrait Gallery of Colonel Fred Burnaby, a moustachioed war hero who served in the same regiment as Parker Bowles. It would be the inspiration.

So APB went back to the Knightsbridge Barracks and borrowed his old uniform. To his surprise, he discovered that it no longer fitted as comfortably. ‘I’d put on a bit of weight, or otherwise it’d shrunk,’ APB would laugh at recalling his embarrassment. ‘The first morning it was so hot, and the uniform was so tight, I undid it. That’s when Freud said, “That’s it, hold it, that’s what we want.”’

The three-month mark came and went, and the picture continued to grow in size. As APB would recall, ‘He kept on adding canvas. My heart sunk. Soon it was seven feet high.’

By his own admission he was a fidgety sitter and Freud was ‘incredibly slow.’ Parker Bowles got by with plenty of Diet Coke and regular breaks. ‘As you can see from the picture I had rather an inane look on my face. You can’t have someone smiling because you can’t hold a smile for 18 months.’

Freud liked to work in silence. ‘Every so often he would come quite close to you.’ He gestures his hand to his nose. ‘Look at you, and go back.’

When Freud wanted to rest, he’d stop and talk. ‘But then he wouldn’t paint. One was torn between wanting him to get on with it and listening to what he had to say about things.’

At one stage Parker Bowles caught a glimpse of the portrait He didn’t like APB seeing what he’d done, but it was such a big picture that APB couldn’t help but look at it, and complained that his friend had been unkind in the likeness of his size. Freud gleefully painted an extra inch of fat on to Parker Bowles’ middle. ‘He did it to shut me up.’

Freud’s tempers were infamous, yet he and Andrew never argued. ‘Discussions yes, arguments no. In his relationships, the minute something went wrong, he’d cut you off and wouldn’t ever speak to you again. Luckily, he didn’t do it to me. But he did with some of the girls he painted.’

Instead, Freud was ‘great company’ and a routine emerged. ‘It would be breakfast at Clarke’s, then we’d go back and I’d climb into my uniform. Even if he was just painting my face, he still wanted me to wear the whole uniform.’ Lunch might be at Clarke’s again and then back to the studio. If it sounds intense, it wasn’t constant: twice weekly for the sittings. ‘Then he’d wheel in the next victim.’

The starriest of these included Jerry Hall and Kate Moss, though perhaps one of Freud’s most talked-about paintings, unveiled in 2001, was of the late Queen Elizabeth II. Many were critical of the royal portrait, which was, even by the most anodyne description, unforgiving. One newspaper called it a ‘travesty’. Parker Bowles is more sanguine about it. He said in one interview, ‘You have to say it’s accurate. I once asked Her Majesty, the Queen what she thought about Mr Freud’s picture and she replied, “Very interesting.” Which is a very clever answer, really.’

And what of his own portrait? Did it require diplomacy? After 18 long months the oil painting was finished and titled The Brigadier. One critic described the painting as ‘insolent’, ‘scathing’ and ‘melancholic’. He went on to describe its subject as looking ‘saddened and wiped out’. Flattering? Admittedly perhaps not, but a masterpiece, said many. Parker Bowles - who divorced Camilla in 1995 - was a fan of the work, and the painting’s naturalism is one of the reasons why it is so popular. Parker Bowles might have bought it. Instead, it was installed in someone else’s house and eventually sold by Christie’s in 2015 for $35m – a record figure.

Andrew Parker Bowles has always been stoic about missing on buying his own portrait but he lacked the funds by a country mile on his military pension and other holdings. He conceded that he didn’t fancy the idea of, “a seven-foot picture of myself looking rather red-faced and fat wasn’t my idea of fun”.

So there’s no Brigadier hanging in the Cotswolds, but a picture of a friendship emerges and endures. Freud lived to be 88. Parker Bowles went to see his friend as he lay dying in the summer of 2011. Three of his daughters were there; Freud had 14 acknowledged children. Parker Bowles went in. He was unconscious and APB held his hand. They went next door with Freud’s assistant David Dawson and their Irish friend Pat Doherty, whom Freud had also painted, and they had dinner and Freud died that night.

Andrew Parker Bowles continues to have fond memories of his most unlikely friendship with one of Britain’s distinguished artists. He said once in a newspaper profile. ‘Freud was a fascinating man. I wouldn’t say he was a particularly kind man, he was often quite cruel. But his whole life was painting, really, right to the end.’