#NOBODY ESCAPES THE BALL SHAVING

[shiftythrifting]

#thrifting #shiftythrifting #submission #THEY ARE GETTING US AT THE THRIFT STORE NOW #NOBODY ESCAPES THE BALL SHAVING #tumblr culture #manscaped #shirts

[sadsimp]

Johnny Hcs

Warnings: Talks of murder, cannibalism, kidnapping (it’s Johnny what were you expecting?), and describing his dick, let me know if I missed anything <3 

Have some more of Johnny 😈

*Body*

Stands at 6 ft and 2 inches and weighs 200 lbs (canon) and it’s all muscle. Muscular but not to the point where it’s too much I think. Helps him get peoples attention so he can lead/kidnap them back to the house and overpower people easily 

Shows off his muscles subtly and makes it look like he doesn’t mean to do it, it just 

happens(he does mean to) 

The only fat he has on him is his ass and thighs

I’m joking I’m joking (I’m not)

I’m surprised he’s not as tan as I would expect, he’s kinda pale?? Might be just my lighting but he’s not tan at all

Has scars all over his body. Got quite a few scars from fights whether from victims or when he was a kid. I hc that he wears the gloves because he burned both his hands pretty bad and I think it was because he was doing something stupid (like holding a firecracker and letting Sissy light it)

Speaking of hands, big. Nice long and semi thick fingers? Doesn’t like it when people look or touch them. I think it’ll take forever til he’ll let you and if you say something that he finds odd, you won’t ever touch them again. 

He probably won’t let you paint his nails 😭 it’ll take a lot of convincing to let him paint his nails and if he does?? Makes you do black only at first then maybe blue if he sees that if makes you super happy and he gets some sort of “payment” *wink wink hint hint nudge nudge* 

He pretty much takes care of any injuries he gets by himself. Just washes with water and bandages it up. Does okay with stitches if he needs them? But his hands shake a bit so it’s not really neat

I feel like his hair is greasy and thick. It’s only soft when he blow dries it, the softness only lasts for a day though. Doesn’t like when people touch it but he lets them to make them more comfortable and so he can bring them back home. It looks dark brown to me so that’s what I’m going with 

If he’s in a relationship with you? first of all how did you manage that?? And secondly, he  might let you play with his hair after a good while but I wouldn’t count on it and only if he’s serious about you

Kinda has good hygiene? Like, he showers and brushes his teeth because nobody wants stanky breath and BO but he’s not the cleanest 

Has a lovely arch nose <3 I can imagine the Reader pulling on it as a way to mess with him 😩

Has very pretty brown eyes <3 and very nice eyelashes if you ever seen the tcm petals

Dick talk (lmao)

I personally think this man is packing. A little over 7 inches, very thick and but not too veiny. Fills you up nicely but it does sting sometimes when he doesn’t prep you enough (or at all)

Curves a bit to the left <3 and I’m sorry but he has hairy balls (he has to, he has the energy) 

Has a big bush, man does not shave and will not. Might trim it a bit but doesn’t put any effort into it. 

Also doesn’t mind a bush or body hair on any partners either surprisingly, since they can’t really afford razors he’s used to everyone not shaving at all unless he or Sissy steals it for everyone 

Has a nice happy trail too😩 it’s not a lot but it’s noticeable. Goes a tiny bit about his bellybutton and it’s the same color as his hair. Hairy legs too but his arms aren’t really that hairy. He has a bit of a stubble too <3

*General*

I heard someone saying that he’s the youngest?? Normally Bubba is the youngest?? Johnny has to be old enough to go to bars so I’m going to say he’s about 25-26 

Motherfucker snores like a train. Sometimes he takes snoring if he hasn’t fallen asleep yet just to catch victims escaping 

Pet names I think he would use (if you surprisingly ended up with him) are: Sugar, Darling, Princess/Prince, Sweatpea, Sunshine, Baby Doll, and I really think he would also use Precious. 

“Ain’t you so precious.” Then mf bites you, slaps away and runs laughing like a manic

He tries to give you a hug when he comes in all sweaty from working outside (he smells don’t let him)

Definitely has a type (it’s you bestie, you’re his type)

Like with the tcm petals thing, he can’t sneak very well because of his keys(at least I think) He also sounds like he stomps everywhere he goes😭

Probably only wears jeans and t shirts. I can see him dressing up a bit for going out but nothing to fancy

I think someone in the family has to have some type of job, Johnny is the only one who works along with Cook. (Haven’t watched the movies but I plan too I just don’t wanna pay 😭)  I can’t really decide on what he would do though, maybe a mechanic? Plumber?

( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)

I do think he likes to fix things, any problems with the house? He’s on it. A hole is in the roof? Just give him a couple of days, he’ll get it done

I’ve seen a few people say this, he’s favorite part is the thigh, and I completely agree

Does know how to cook but unfortunately it’s people💀

He does hunt/fish a lot too so he can definitely cook em up

I can imagine you’re trying to escape and you pass by the garage and he’s just skinning an animal that’s up on a hook and then notices you😟

Anyways-

I don’t really think he’s all the suave?? He’s kinda a meanie tbh😭  But I think it’s all just an act to get people more comfortable with him, he’s just doing what he’s seen on TV

I truly believe he’s a giant goofball. A big meanie goofball who’s also a narcissist and very manipulative 

I feel like he played pranks a lot as a kid but he’s pranks were setting something on fire or throwing a victim’s underwear in someone’s face instead of y’know, normal shit? 

He will bite you and draw blood just because he thinks it’s funny. I personally don’t think he’d use his knife on you though, that’s only for food

Very competitive and will come up with the stupidest “challenges” just so he can show he’s better. Poor Bubba is forced into them😭 

I can’t decide if Johnny is older, younger or around the same age as Bubba T^T

Probably does some woodworking too. Makes a bunch of different from birds to flowers to trying to make a replica of a persons face he likes 

That’s all I got for now😭 I’m sorry if I messed some info up but these are my hcs for our babygirl Johnny :3 Hope you enjoyed! <3

@dreamties <3

#johnny tcm game #Johnny Slaughter #Johnny slaughter headcanons #johnny headcanons

[theesirenteller]

𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐞 ; 𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝

◦•●◉✿ 𝙹𝚞𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝙾𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚣/ 𝙾𝙵𝙲 ✿◉●•◦

Ofc; Suzanna "Suzie" Wallace-Ortiz

"Look Suzie please! Please just listen to me!" Juice pleaded frantically as he dodged and ducked from the flying flip flops. "I can't be without you. I..I don't wanna lose you!" he pleaded.

"You're a fucking liar! You left me!"

" Woman, I was in prison!"

"Well who's fucking fault was that?! Yours! Nobody told you to follow those inbreds, they're not your brothers! They wouldn't do the same for you!"

"You don't get it Suzie! I can't be alone!" Juice yelled His eyes filled with tears as his face grew reddened. His hands balled into fists at his sides. "I-I don't do good with being alone. I start thinking about shit and i…it just gets real fucking bad for me. The clubs all I've got, Suzie. WIthout you, they're all I've got."

The heartbroken look on his face made the busty blonde frown. She lowered the shoe in her hand as her glaring expression softened. "Aw sugarplum..," she cooed as she rushed over to the closet-sized trailer. Her arms wrapped around his neck as she embraced him closely. Her warm palm gently rested against the back of his shaved head that she began to caress. "I done told you before that you've got me, sugarplum. You'll always have me." she laid a kiss against the nape of his neck as he hugged her tightly.``But it can't be both. I don't do well being second best to a bunch of rough lookin' rednecks" 

Suzanna Jean Wallace loathed bikers with a passion Specifically Samcro. The men had a filthy reputation. Done unspeakable things to people. People she once loved and cared dearly for had fallen into the grave because of those men. 

Juice, her sweet sugarplum was different. He was so much better than them. She knew his heart was pure. He'd been the first man to kiss her with his lips instead of a fist after an argument. He held her like he needed her.  Suzie didn't care for the type of guys who were brainless macho men that only cared about emptying their balls in whatever pussy that could get a hold on. She needed someone to hold her at night. Someone who didn't mind watching reruns of soap operas and cartoons whilst eating cereal. Juice became all that and so much more. He was sweeter than the sweetest sweet tea. 

"I've let good things go all my life. I don't wanna let you go." He wept against her hair. His fingertips dug into the softness of her skin as he squeezed her. "Marry me." he murmured with a muffled tone.

Suzie tilted her neck back and looked at him wide-eyed "What?"

"Suzie.." Juice's hands cupped her face as he stared into her brown eyes. Both of their eyes were the same shade of dark brown. "Will you marry me? Just us. I mean i love you and you love me…you're my dream girl and fuck, i couldn't think of anyone else i'd wanna spend my life with." his words were rushed but he spoke from his heart.

Suzie was one of the nicest women he'd ever met. Sure, she was an overly emotional crybaby at times. Or a drama queen who threw the oddest, scariest fits when she didn't get her way. But! she never ceased to keep a smile on his face. She baked him cherry pies and sugar cookies whenever they were together. Everyone in the diner where she worked loved her. She was so lively. An immaculate lover that left his skin marked in love bites and scatch marks. So much so you'd think he'd fought a cat. Suzie wasn't a secret but she was scared. His scared, serene lover.

A high-ear piercing squeal escaped Suzie's lips before she tackled the tanned biker onto her bed. She peppered his face in sloppy kisses as she hugged his waist. "Of course I'll marry you, Sugar." The southern Mississippi native stood up abruptly and sassed, "I'll be needing a ring. Something pretty and sweet that makes me think of you." 

Juice chuckled happily as he grasped her hand and laid a kiss at her fingers. "Whatever you want," he agreed. Standing up on his feet again, he gleefully wrapped his arms around her shoulders, pulling Suzie into a bear hug. His lips ravenously crashed against hers. His lips soft to the touch, overlapped hers in a slowed, yearning, and tender embrace. 

She felt the strength he possessed by the way he lifted her in his arms as if she weighed little to nothing. Suzie couldn't help but to melt in his arms and kiss Juice tenderly. He stole the air from her lungs and in that moment she felt as though they were one. Just before her tongue could brush against his, Juice pulled away. His fingers tapping against her lower back,"I wanna marry you right now." he whispered an inch from her lips. Suzie could feel his heart beating against hers. 

Her smile beamed so bright that her cheeks hurt. "Let's go get married then, sugarplum." she said, nudging her nose against his. Suzie then pecked his lips before she smacked her hands against his chest, "Now get out, I gotta get proper." 

"Yes ma'am." He chuckled before rushing out of the trailer. Juice reached into his pants pocket for his phone and his finger itched over Jax's number. But, he froze for a moment as Suzie's words replayed in his head. He instead turned off his phone and shoved it into his back pocket.

Suzie rushed to get ready.  From freshening up in a five-minute shower to getting her outfit together; Suzie was frantic with excitement. She'd put on a white overbust corset from her closet with white knee-high tights her six-inch pleaser rose & white stripper heels, and white lace g-string graced her body. The southern belle proceeded to straighten her bottle-blonde hair until it fell effortlessly to the of her breast. As she went to work on her makeup; Juice had left on his motorcycle.

The man sped off down the dust roads until he arrived at a Jewelry shop on the outskirts of Charming near a small coastal town. He took a deep breath as he parked his bike. Straightening himself up and removing his glasses, juice proceeded to head inside. He walked along the two isles with his eyes skimming over the selections. So many designs and styles to choose from. Yet, almost instantly…the ring chose him. A dainty-sized gold ring flashed revealed itself to him. It was crafted in a Japanese peach blossom shape with a tiny pink rose-quartz crystal in the center. 

"Hey, excuse me! I'd like to purchase this one." He called out. Excitement bubbled in his tone. 

Nearly thirty-minutes later; After packing an overnight bag and tossing on her oversized Levi denim jacket, Suzie rushed out the trailer and approached Juice. He had been rolling a fat joint when she approached. The man's eyes widened as he looked her over. A wide grin stretching across his lips. "Wow babe, you look amazing," he said before kissing her cheek. 

"Thank you honey. You look as handsome as ever." Suzie smiled as she pecked the tip of his nose. Once Juice had placed his helmet on her head, the pair were off to Vegas.

An hour's drive felt like five minutes. Juice blazed the couple through the highway at the speed of lightning. It wasn't that he was in a rush to head back to Charming, no. The guy was just so filled with excitement that he barely could contain it. Something about making her Mrs.Ortiz just made him so chipper and feral.

The wedding chapel. One of many in the city that never sleeps. But, what made this one special was that there were no witnesses needed. The two love birds stood in front of one another with a Priest dressed as Elvis in between them. The couple couldn't wipe the smile off of their faces. It's only been three months that they'd known one another and been together. But, it felt like thirty years. For Suzie, it was love at first sight. The sight of his golden retriever smile and hippy attitude made her want to give the hunk of a man a son named Tanner and worship him endlessly.

Suzie wore a 2.99 viel she'd brought from outside the chapel and a 5.99 bouquet of faux white roses. The trailer park princess was finally becoming a proper wife. Tears filled her little Bambi eyes as her smile grew shaky.

"Do you Juan Ortiz take Suzanne Jean Wallace as your wife in sickness & in health? For better or worse for as long as you both shall live?"

"I do." Juice quickly nodded his head as he agreed. He proceeds to take the ring out of his pocket and slip it into her finger.

Suzie couldn't contain the squeaky sob that escaped her lips, "Oh my gosh sugarplum!" her heels click-clacked as she stomped her feet in delight.

The Elvis priest chuckled and shook his head as proceeded on, "Do you Suzanna Jean Wallace take Juan Ortiz to be your husband in-"

"Yes! No need to yip yap too much. I do." Suzie quickly interrupted. She excitedly pulled her father's old wedding band out from under bosom before proceeding to slip it onto Juice's finger. It was a perfect fit. Almost solidifying that they were in fact meant to be.

"Well then…" The Priest chuckled, "I now pronounce you Mr.&Mrs.Ortiz."

His muscular arms wrapped around her hips as Juice quickly lifted her up in his arms. Their lips clashed together passionately. Their mouths ravished one another until their noses were nudged and their tongues pressed closely against each other. The world suddenly felt still. No one else mattered but the two of them.

They'd gotten married fast but got to their honeymoon suite at the Mermaid Motel even quicker. Sweet sativa clouded the air as Mrs.Ortiz enjoyed her KFC chicken drumstick and fourth joint. Whilst Juice had been taking a call outside their room. Giggling to herself, Suzie watched a rerun of Mall Cop on the small TV that hung from the wall. Tilting her head back, she peeked through the curtains, her eyes narrowed in on Juice pacing back and forth. Which caused Suzie to roll her eyes.

"Fucking shit hole bikers." She muttered as she stood up from the couch. After tossing her drumstick down on her paper plate and tossing the remains of her blunt into her cherry coke can ; Suzie slips out of her heels and corset. Snatching two complimentary towels from the edge of the bed on her way out of the room, Suzie stalked toward where Juice stood. Quickly, she snatched his phone and ended the call with a snap of the flip phone.

"Hey! Babe what the hell?! That was important." Juice groaned with a huff.

"Not more important than fucking me stupid, sugarplum." She dismissed as she grasped his hand. "Let's go swimming, it's hot." her feet smacked against the pavement as she ran towards the vacant pool.

"Definitely not." He agreed as he chased behind her.

Towels were dropped at the edge of the pool as Suzie jumped in first. Juice quickly stripped out of his chunky boots, baggy jeans, and white tee before diving in after her. The fluorescent lights of the Mermaid Motel sign were their only lightning. Reflecting off the pool water. As the pair arose for air, Suzie playfully licked the side of his face. " Sweeter than a sweet tatar." She laughed.

"Whatever weirdo." Juice laughed as he splashed water her way.

"No! My makeup!" She giggled as she shielded her face with her hands.

"You're looking like a corpse bride right about now babe." He teased as he continued to splash her. The two splashed one another until she had no choice but to turn around and reach for her towel to pay her face dry.

As she gently tapped her face, he came behind her. His hands rubbed along her hips up to her breasts. Squeezing at her squishy pear-shaped mounds as his thumbs fondled at her nipples. A low whimper escaped her giggling lips. His pouty lips warmed her cool skin as he kissed along her neck. He adorned her skin with his lips and tongue, nibbling at her flesh. "You're so pretty baby." he murmured against her. Grasping greedily at her breasts he tugged her closer.

Her small hands draped over his larger ones as Suzie softly moaned. Arching her lower back, she grinds her ass against his crotch. Her nails dragged along his forearms that she couldn't help but grasp and caress. His stiff cock grinding against her plump cheeks needily earned a muffled groan to leave his lips. His large hand grasped at her throat and jaw, tugging her back as he did so. His tongue dipped down into her mouth. Their tongues licked against one another as their lips messily pressed and dragged passionately on and off each other. The way his tongue would massage the back of her mouth made her clit throb as she eagerly rocked back against his growing erection.

Juice had to have one the most modest men who carried a third leg Suzie ever encountered. Despite their first time being a quick five-minute bathroom bang; she never expected the Glock-sized cock he had. By looking at him and his demeanor, she never expected it. But their second hook-up in her trailer gave her a juicy first look. The man, her man was a whooping eight inches with about a five-inch girth. Not that she had a ruler but it was pretty clear. Circumcised (thankfully) and perfectly, cleanly shaven. He kept his hair as neat as his Mohawk. A slight tilt upward shaft that just plunged her whenever he rammed into her.

Just like now. Suzie had been so blissfully enchanted by his tongue in her mouth and his left hand groping at her breast; That she hadn't realized how swiftly he lifted and pressed her left leg to her waist. His thick and veiny shaft stuffed into her silken hole with little ease. Suzie let out a cry of both pleasure and pain. Her thighs shook as her hips jolted back against his. "Ah! You fucking mad mohawker!" she cursed through teary-eyed laughter. He made her a complete and utter mess. and she loved every minute of it.

"Shouldn't have interrupted my call, baby"Juice laughed in her ear as he dug deeper inside her. His fingers pressed against her throbbing clit and he rubbed at it tenderly. Suddenly, the cool evening air is stifling, and Suzie starts to feel like she's suffocating. Overwhelmed by the pleasure he's basking on her. The way his hips snapped against hers when his throbbing, thick veiny cock drilled into her with a force that matched the roaring of thunder. Her moans grew so loud that Juice had to stuff his fingers into her mouth.

The newlywed's pleasurable night was only the beginning of their wild ride. Their love was a fire that would burn down any obstacle in their way. No matter how 'Brotherly' that obstacle was.

❛ ━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━ ❜

I'm gonna call this 'Chapter One'

#theesirenteller fanfic #Juice Ortiz; trailer park barbie #juice ortiz x oc

[avo-kat]

btw tumblr doing "quirky" ads is just the company trying to be relatable and human. its the same as all those companies posting memes on twitter.

and also, any company doing really, really, really bad ads, so bad u take screens and share them with ur friends? thats on purpose. any attention is good attention.

esp since even if a company commits horrible crimes on humanity (nestle, mars, amazon, hobby lobby, it will be p much forgotten in a week.

ur not immune to ads, no matter how on trend it is to say the opposite on here.

"i hate ads, ads have never made me buy any of their product!"

you sure? are you absolutely sure? im not talking about the ball shaving ads. ads are everywhere. its impossible to escape them. most of the time you dont even register them consciously.

people joke about how some ads dont even advertise a specific product, or how the most famous companies dont "need" ads because everybody knows about them.

thats not what those ads are about.

mcdonalds and cocacola are not having ads plastered all over the whole world for nothing. ads are expensive.

no, the purpose of ads for companies you are well aware of is recall.

you're on your way home after work. you are tired, hungry, you wanna go home. ugh. no energy to cook, you had to stay late. and the kitchen is full of dishes. and u dont really have anything to cook with. hm, actually, a burger sounds really, really nice about now. delicious, doesnt take long, it would be a nice little treat after a long day. you go to mcdonalds, buy your food, you're happy. you didnt even notice the 10 differents mcdonalds ads on your way.

its everywhere. you are not immune to advertising. nobody is.

but being conscious of this already helps a lot. stop screenshotting quirky ads, you are giving the companies free advertising. stop engaging with brands online. try to look for alternative products when dealing with the biggest organizations.

i personally try to buy off-brand as much as possible, i rarely buy food at fast food stores (its way cheaper to buy frozen nuggets, too), i dont shop at amazon anymore.

and be aware you are not immune to ads. thats not a moral failing. ads are engineered to work, its not your fault. just be aware of it.

#ads #advertising

[writinginthedarkwood]

Werewolf! Kirishimia Eijiro: A New Meaning to Golden Retriever Boyfriend.

Thank you so dearly for this request, it was so much fun to write. Prompt #16 “Not this again.” For the fictober event. If you have a request, please send me an ask I would love to write it. 

No warnings, fluffy and cute.

"You've got to be kidding me, not this again." You looked down at your phone, a long paragraph typed up from your boyfriend Eijiro in the same format as last month. An excuse, an apology, canceling tonight's plans, and about two more apologies. Tonight he's claiming stomach issues, but you know the truth. You sigh and check your bank account. If he would just tell the truth you could tell him that it wouldn't be a problem for you to pay for the movie tickets tonight! He makes good money, he must really spend over his budget. He's so chivalrous and sweet, it might insult him to try and pay for things sometimes. You don't mind, if only he'd just open up.

You decide that enough is enough, you're going over there and you're going to put an end to the lying! He's going to let you pay for the date if you have to drag him out by his ears. You throw on the outfit you had planned for your date, cleaned up your hair and head down the street into the night air. Eijiro's house is just outside of city lines in the suburbs. He has a nice end lot with a large field behind it. You're so jealous of his view. You hop on the bus and ride with head phones on, listening to a playlist he made you. The bus can be a little scary at night, but nobody is on here except for you. It's kind of peaceful just listening to music and staring at the full moon. It's large and round face is staring down at you like a caring grandmother.

 Another text pops up.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry I disappointed you. I have to get some sleep, I love you baby." You rolled your eyes. It's just past 10pm! You're not letting him sit and sulk in the dark alone all night. You resisted the urge to throw your phone into your bag in frustration. He is such a wonderful boyfriend 99% of the time, but he always seems like he's hiding a part of himself. What is it? A bad childhood? A gambling addiction? Is he secretly apart of the mafia??? The bus halted to a stop and left you outside of his neighborhood, you stomped all the way down the sidewalk to the end of the line of houses and stared at your boyfriends place. The porch light is off, but the lights are on inside. You know where he keeps the hidden spare key and jam it into the lock. You almost kick the door down as you shout for your boyfriend.

 He was sitting on the couch, tying his shoe laces. He's putting on hiking boots this late? "Hey! You're awake!" You slam the door behind you and scold your red headed sweet heart. "Babe what are you doing here? It's almost midnight!" His voice is shaking. He nervously looks at the clock on the wall and stands up. "You have to go baby, I'm really embarrassed! My stomach is-" "Stop lying! Your stomach is fine!" You want to raise your voice and yell, but his giant puppy dog eyes are so cute. You jam a finger into his chest and scrunch up your mouth, doing your best to look irritated. "I knew I would get here and see you're not hunched over a puke bucket!" He put both hands on your shoulders and gently rubbed up and down on your arms. He's such a large man, he's practically a wall he's so solid. Yet he always has the sweetest touches, making sure to be so gentle with you. His callused finger tips brushed against your skin and gave you goosebumps.

 It took every ounce of restraint in you not to fall right into his arms. "I'm sorry honey, but you really can't stay here tonight. I need you to head back home." He said hardly above a whisper. He kissed your forehead and you shoved his chest with all of your might. He didn't budge, but understood you wanted him away from you so he stepped back. "Oh I'm sorry, is your booty call on the way over and I'm interrupting?" You felt like someone had stabbed you right in the heart. It couldn’t be true, he has never showed any signs of being disloyal. You’re just tired and confused.

 Eijiro looked panicked. "Oh god of course not! No, no its not like that I swear!"  He swallowed you in his arms pushing your cheek against his pecks and kissing all over the top of your head. "There is nobody other than you, I could never even think of betraying you, you're my soul mate." He said between kisses. You wrapped your arms around him and snuggled in. His warmth overwhelming. "Well then what is it...?" You whined a bit, it's getting later and you want to just fall asleep in his arms. "Are you going to turn into a wolf at midnight?" You chuckled. His hand stopped running through your hair and he stiffened completely. You look up at him puzzled, he's staring down at you with a look of panic. "That's crazy why would you even say that?" He says all too seriously. You nervously laugh. "What's wrong? I was just joking. It's not like I really believe you're about to start howling at the full moon." Eijiro stared off into space, like his brain was loading and he couldn't think of what to say. "Right...?" You cocked an eyebrow at him. "It might be a little bit like that." He scratched his head. 

You two sat in the quiet for a little bit. Every time he tried to elaborate he ended up getting caught up in his own words. You two sat awkwardly in his living room until its about 5 minutes til midnight. "I- I'm going to go to the bathroom." He quickly dismissed himself, running to his bedroom and shutting the door. You followed quickly after him. Is he insane? Does he really expect you to just sit out here while he hides pretending to shape shift to get out of movie night? He's obviously  having a difficult time, maybe his money troubles make him feel emasculated? You softly tap on his bedroom door and it slips open. The bathroom door is closed shut with the light peaking out under the crack. You walk past his bed and dressers and hear weird scuttling sounds the closer you get. You knock again. "Hey honey, why don't you come out so we can talk about this? It's okay if you didn't want to go out because of money..." You leaned against the door. "It doesn't make you less of a man to let me pay sometimes." He's so wonderful, you don't think there could be any other reason why he can be so flakey.

The sound of shampoo bottles and shaving cream canisters falling to the ground startle you. "Babe are you okay?" You turn the door nob. The door flings open, a large shape tackles you, knocking you to the ground. You let out a large wheeze, the wind escaping your lungs. "What the fu-" Your face was assaulted with a large flat tongue, licking all over you. Slobber flew across the room as a giant red dog panted and whimpered as it gave you kisses. "You're a dog! Oh my god you're a dog!" You pushed your monstrous boyfriend off of you and took a good look at him. He's huge, and even a little scary looking. His fur is bright crimson and his eyes are a daring shade of yellow. But he sat there, panting like a normal dog. You waved in front of his face. "Are you in there babe?" The dog playfully nipped at your finger, trying to pull your hand into his mouth. "Hey! No bites!" You retracted your hand and held it close to your chest. His fangs are giant. 

The wolf man got down low to the ground in the stance you've seen puppies do right before they-

 He takes off, zooming across the floor and into the living room at full speed. Pictures that lined the hallway crash to the ground. You rush to your feet and chase after him. "Wait!! Down boy! Down!!" You shout. He's already on the couch, gripping a throw pillow between his powerful jaws and shaking it. Cotton stuffing flies across the room, coating the floor. "No! Bad Eijiro! Bad doggy!" You try to wrestle the pillow away from him and fail. He topples over you, knocking you back down onto the floor and taking off across the room again, this time to the kitchen. You tenderly rub your arm, you landed on it weird and it's a little sore. Another crashing sound prompts you to get up onto your feet and run after him. The trash can is toppled over on its side, trash strewn across the floor. His snout was pushing around the garbage, looking for something to swallow. "Are you kidding me? What is with you?" You grab the wolf by the scruff of his neck, and pull him to the other side of the room away from the trash. "You sit!" Eijiro whines and sits down, looking up at you with the saddest eyes. "Oh don't look at me like that. This is not what I thought a werewolf would be like." Eijiro's large head pushed against you, rubbing his face all over your stomach as you pet his head. "You just need to burn some of this energy off." 

You can't help but love the silly thing. He is still your boyfriend, even if he is a little different than usual right now. He followed you down the hall,  staying right by your side. He takes up most of the space, his large frame almost tipping you off balance with small bumps into your hip. You dug through a pile in his hall closet until you found an old baseball and plastic toy bat. Wow, he really needs to clean up his closet, you think to yourself. "Okay babe, let's go-" He looked up at you with all of the love in the world, hanging on your every word. You crack into a smile. "Let's go outside and play you big goof.

"The two of you trampled through the tall grass behind Eijiro's house, he seemed to use little to no effort at all. His massive paws stomping down the weeds like it's nothing. You decided you were far enough away from the neighbors and took a strong stance. You haven't hit a ball in ages, but this plastic bat is wide and should make it a little easier on you. The baseball flew high into the air, you focused and swung the bat, smacking the ball across the field. Your wolf ran, faster than any animal you had ever seen after the small object, passing it and having to loop around with a terrifying pin point turn. He grabbed the ball off of the ground so quick you barely saw the motion, and in a flash he was back at your feet. You could do nothing but shake your head and laugh. "Are you kidding me? You're amazing!" Eijiro looked pleased, so you scratched his neck fluff.

 "Alright let's see if I can hit it a little farther." 

Again, and again, and again he chased the ball across the field and back happily dropping the ball at your feet. He only made you wrestle for it once, he could probably keep the ball away from you forever with those intense muscles, but that's not as fun for him. Seeing how pleased you looked when he brought it back was filling the beast with all the pride in the world.

Eventually your arm got tired, and he seemed to have about run out of energy too. He laid down in the field and looked up at the moon. You laid your head on his stomach, the rhythm of his breathing so comforting. You just talked to him, venting about life and how weird things are in the city now. You found yourself thinking about how a simple bus ride was starting to feel too far away from him at this point. "I know you don't really understand me right now, but I really love you. I know we've said it before, but I love you. I think you're my forever person." He was laying on his paws, looking up at the starry sky. "I know you felt like you had to hide this from me, but it doesn't scare me, or weird me out." You talk quietly and close your eyes, snuggling deeper into his fur. "If I have to come throw a ball for you once a month, I'll do it. I've got friends that deal with way worse with their boyfriends." You smirked, thinking you're pretty funny. That'll make Eijiro laugh in the morning, you'll save that for later. 

The rising sun burned your eyelids, scaring you awake. You hadn't meant to stay out here for the rest of the night, but it was so late and he was so comfortable. He's much more familiar to you now, he slept peacefully as you rested on his chest. He looks worn out, but the two of you can't stay out there forever. You gently tap his face. He popped one eye open and looked around. "Oh man!" He gasped and looked down at his hands and feet. "I'm so stupid! You could get sick staying outside all night!" He put a hand on your face and cupped your chin. "Are you alright my love?" He asked with the soft voice only you get to hear. "Yeah I'm fine. How are you feeling?" "I feel fine. I'll be a little more hungry today, but it's no big deal." He looked down at the ground with a sheepish smile. "Thanks for staying with me all night." "Aw come on, it's no big deal. You're... a good boy." You teased while ruffling his hair.

 "Hey!"

My Ko-Fi -> https://ko-fi.com/writinginthedarkwoods Please send spooky requests!

#fictober21 #my hero fanfic #werewolf kirishima #bnha fluff #Kirishima Eijirou #kirishima x reader #kirishima imagine

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 31: Masquerade

Dean’s mask itches something fierce. But he’ll deal with a cheap face covering if Michael can take his place tonight with nobody the wiser. As Dean’s bodyguard and occasional stand-in, Mikey already had the height and build, not to mention access, to pull off the switch with the resident crown prince.

Dean glances over his shoulder, up at the balcony, where Michael is resplendent in Dean’s tailored forest green suit and elaborate peacock-themed mask. A bit on the nose, if anyone asks Dean. Royalty really shouldn’t wear the symbol of the most vain bird in the animal kingdom.

What? He reads.

He’s not just a pretty face.

Well, mostly - but that’s beside the point.

His shoes sink into the soft loam of the recently mowed back lawn of the royal’s official summer mansion, where the lesser gentry and elite commoners mingle. The nobles, of course, get the actual palace ballroom all to themselves.

But down here, that’s the real party. Dean once snuck out when he was sixteen and got a taste before Dad sent Bill, his bodyguard, to go find him and bring him back to the snoozefest upstairs.

Here, they have real music and mini cheesesteak sandwiches and pigs in a blanket. No salmon crudite or slivers of ham as thin as paper covered with a light shaving of manchego here - apparently only the lowborn riff raff get served real food.

Dean had been trying for three goddamn years to escape the annual All Hallows Eve masquerade ball - their last hurrah before the big move back to the palace for the winter. That first year, Bill found him before he could snag more than two cheeseburger sliders. The second year, Sammy accidentally ratted him out when he pointed out Dean was in the bathroom for over twenty minutes.

But this year - this is Dean’s year.

With Michael running interference, nobody will even notice Dean is missing. As long as Michael keeps his trap shut and doesn’t insult a duke’s daughter or bet the crown jewels on Baron Fitzgerald winning a drinking contest against Viscountess Baum, Dean will be in the clear.

But that’s a big if, since Mikey’s a bit of a douche.

He is a good fighter, though, which was Dad’s highest priority when he hired him. That, and who Michael’s father was.

Dean snags a mini quiche - how does all food taste better in miniature? - from a passing server and pops it in his mouth. He recognizes nobody, and, for once, nobody recognizes him. He circles the gardens, enjoying the fresh evening air without any hangers on. No retinue, no bodyguard, no advisors, no manservant, just Dean.

Just as he is about to bite into a cheese puff, a commotion by the stairs to the mansion catches his attention. Probably some idiot guest trying to get into the main party without an invitation. They always get a handful each year, drunken lawn guests who think they can get past the very blatantly protected front door. While he was stuck upstairs, Dean used to hang out on the balcony, trying to catch a earful of the altercation. Anything to save him from Mom’s super helpful reminders of who from the VIP guest list is still single.

Dean heads over to check out the scene.

A dark haired man wearing a navy blue mask and a matching navy suit is trying to muscle his way past two guards. “No, you don’t understand,” he says desperately, “I have to get in, the crown prince is in danger!”

Dean’s amusement vanishes faster than Sammy’s confidence in front of a cute girl.

“That’s a new one,” Roy mutters.

“Take a hike,” Walt says, shoving the man back off the stairs.

The man balls his hands into fists, his expression mutinous. “I need to warn the royal family.”

Dean hurries forward, hiking a grin back on his face. If this guy takes another step, all he’s going to get is a broken nose. “Hey,” he says, grabbing the guy by the arm, “Woah there, cowboy.” He gives Walt and Roy a little wave. “Sorry, fellas, my friend here had a little too much to drink.”

“I have not -”

“That’s what they all say, right? Next thing you know, they’re blowing chunks into your grandma’s best vase,” Dean says loudly to the guards as the guy turns to him angrily. He trips over his feet as Dean practically drags him away.

Walt and Roy chuckle, and Dean sighs in relief as the pair head back up towards their posts at the door.

“Do you know what you have done?” the man hisses once Dean lets him go a safe distance away.

“Kept you from a broken face,” Dean says, levelling him a flat glare. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Marching up to the front door?”

“Oh, forgive me,” the man says, glaring daggers, “I thought they would take a threat to the crown prince seriously!”

Dean’s hackles rise, foreboding trickling down his spine. “Not when it comes from some rando instead of a legit source!”

“I’m not a ‘rando’ -”

Dean’s eyebrows rise as he takes in the finger quotes. Talk about a throwback.

“- I’m a relative of Michael Carver, the prince’s bodyguard,” the man says. “His brother - Lucifer - is planning an assassination.”

“Do you have any proof?” Dean asks as he grabs a glass of champagne from a passing waiter.

A beat.

Dean takes a sip of his drink.

“…No.”

“Great,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. “You got a name, Chicken Little?”

“Castiel, Castiel Carver.”

Dean frowns. “I haven’t heard of you.”

Surprising, since there’s nothing Michael likes more than the sound of his own voice. Thank god he also liked sparring, or else Dean would have thrown him out his bedroom window a year ago.

Castiel gives him a funny look. “Why would you?”

Dean tosses back more champagne. “No reason.”

“Do you have a name? It seems rude that you have mine but I can’t say the same of you.”

“You’re weird dude, you know that?” Dean says as he scrambles for an answer. His go-to one is Michael, but that one obviously won’t fly here.

“So I have been told,” Castiel says stiffly. He raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“James - Page,” Dean says.

Castiel exhales a slow breath, but he doesn’t seem to sense Dean’s lie. “It would say it’s nice to meet you, James, but it’s been anything but. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait!” Dean calls as Castiel takes off. Apparently for round two of a fight he is absolutely going to lose.

Dean grabs Castiel’s arm. The next thing he knows, he’s flat on his back, staring up at the stars and Castiel’s furious face, his anger clear despite the mask.

Dean sucks in a ragged breath, completely winded. What the fuck? Nobody gets the drop on Dean anymore, not since Michael started training him.

“If you try to stop me again,” Castiel says, his voice deadly quiet, “I will do much worse.”

“Hold on,” Dean wheezes. “You really believe there’s something hinkey going on?”

Castiel nods once.

“Why do you care?”

Castiel stares down at him. “Why do I care that an innocent man’s life is in danger?” he asks incredulously.

Dean raises himself onto his elbows. “Yeah.”

Castiel offers his hand. He hauls Dean to his feet, his face stony. “Michael is compromised when it comes to Lucifer. I don’t believe he will be able to provide adequate protection. I’ve been trying to call him all day, but he hasn’t picked up his phone. My texts have gone unread.” He pauses. “I’m trying not to fear the worst.”

Dean can feel a headache coming on. “I’m sure he’s just busy. Nights like these, it’s one event after another,” he pauses, “for the prince.”

“Then it’s even more vitally important that I reach him,” Castiel says resolutely.

“Alright,” Dean sighs. He can’t stay down here either if there’s some assassin after him. After they find that Dean’s not where he’s supposed to be, what if they go after his family? After Sammy?

His big plan, in case of emergency, was to just whip off his mask in front of the guards and just walk straight past them to the party. But, obviously, that won’t fly with a psycho assassin on the loose with his sights set on a prince-shaped person.

“I’ll get you upstairs.”

Castiel’s head whips around. “You can do that?”

“I can do a lot of things,” Dean says, aiming for casual and missing by several lightyears.

“How?”

“I, uh, work at the mansion,” Dean says as he tips his head in the opposite direction of the front door. “C’mon.”

“Where are we going?”

“The servant’s entrance.”

“Won’t they notice we don’t belong? They have uniforms,” Castiel points out.

“We’re not gonna try to belong,” Dean says, determined, as they hover outside the doorway.

A passing waiter gives them a curious look but doesn’t comment.

Dean snags the last shrimp cocktail on her tray. Munching, he gestures Castiel forward with his shrimp-free hand.

“We’re going to get caught,” Castiel hisses.

Dean rolls his eyes and tugs him closer, just outside the kitchen doors. “That’s the point.”

“Why would we want-” Castiel starts.

“Kiss me,” Dean demands as more footsteps approach - the dessert entourage, judging by the volume of steps and incoming aroma of warm chocolate. He checks his watch to confirm.

“What?”

“Do you want to get upstairs or not?” Dean asks in a low voice.

“Fine,” Castiel growls as he smashes their mouths together, all force, no finesse.

“Hey,” Dean squeaks against his lips - he hadn’t expected Casanova levels of kissing, but this is more like an assault than a public display of affection. “Easy,” he murmurs, breaking away to kiss down Castiel’s neck.

Castiel makes a noise in the back of his throat that might be impatience or arousal. “James, you -” he groans.

“Yes?” Dean snakes an arm around Castiel’s waist, drawing their bodies together.

Castiel cups his cheek with one hand, gently guiding Dean’s mouth back to his. He deepens the kiss, the pads of his fingers toying with the edge of Dean’s mask.

Butterflies explode in the pit of Dean’s stomach, and he has to put the barest sliver of distance between them to gasp for air.

“You taste like shrimp,” Cas murmurs, his words barely more than a breath.

Dean just holds it together enough to laugh against his mouth.

And that’s how the servers find them a split second later. They all hurry past, avoiding their gaze.

Dean waits until the noise level dies down to break away from Cas and mutter, “C’mon.”

After a meaningful tug, Cas follows Dean through the empty kitchen. Dean leads them up the stairs through the servants entrance to the second story. Pausing outside the side entrance to the ballroom, he listens to the gentle thrum of the string quartet and muted conversation.

“I think we’re good,” Dean says in an undertone as they slip through the door. He closes it behind him silently, sighing. There goes his chance for an evening with zero royal bullshit.

A few hundred people mill around the giant hall, with musicians in a cordoned off area to Dean and Cas’s right. To their left, an expansive wall made up of thousands of glass panes lets in the moonlight. The double doors out to the balcony are thrown wide open.

“We need to find Michael and the Prince,” Cas says, cutting through the crowds like a shark, scanning each masked face as he goes.

“Dude,” Dean hurries to catch up, “Do you even know what he looks like tonight?”

Cas falters. “I’ll know Michael when I see him.”

Dean severely doubts that. Still, he follows Cas as he starts on a careful perimeter of the room, going from marble pillar to marble pillar. “Do you know what Lucifer looks like, at least?” he asks, carefully avoiding a lingering glance from Countess Harvelle.

Cas shakes his head.

Dean swears under his breath.

“I heard of this plot from my uncle Metatron, who heard a rumor from our cousin Uriel, who last saw Anael, who works for Lucifer.”

Dean groans. “Seriously? This is all based on a game of Telephone II: the Conspiracy Expansion Pack?”

“Game of what?” Cas asks, barely sparing Dean a glance.

Dean huffs an irritated breath. “Nothing. Never mind.”

Cas scowls. “I’m not on very close terms with them,” he says, eyes narrowing on a few guests before moving on, “ever since I sought employment with the royal family.”

Dean’s eyes nearly bug out of his head. “You did?”

Cas nods, and Dean, too stunned to move, nearly loses him in the crowd as Cas takes off for a different vantage point.

“Hold on, what’d you apply for?” Dean asks as he catches up.

Cas throws him a calculating look before saying, “The Crown Prince’s bodyguard.”

Dean stops short, nearly knocking into some important general, judging by the chandelier’s worth of dangly shiny bits from his lapels and shoulder pads. But... Cas could have been his bodyguard? Cas could have been standing by his side twenty hours out of the day? A guy so determined to save a life, he sneaks into one of the most exclusive parties of the year and risks getting thrown in jail for trespassing?

“Why?” he demands, staring at Cas.

“Why what?” Cas asks distractedly, eyeing a guest that vaguely has Dean’s shape and height.

“Why did you want to guard the Crown Prince?” Dean asks carefully. “It’s a pretty thankless job with horrible hours.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s thankless,” Cas says, still perusing the crowd as he edges around a pillar for a better view “I’m certain the Prince is grateful.”

“Sure, but he’s just one guy,” Dean says awkwardly.

Cas huffs, “He is far more than that,” he says, facing forward again, spine straight as a regimented soldier. “He’s the heir to the throne.”

“Yeah, of a practically defunct monarchy,” Dean says bitterly. He snags a glass of wine from a passing waiter, grimacing at the bitter taste. No doubt Dad’s choice.

Cas eyes him disapprovingly but doesn’t say a word.

“Nobody cares what the royals do anymore. Except for these people.” Dean gestures with his glass. “Not that they should - the Prince just got where he is by being born into the right family.”

The corners of Cas’s mouth tip down in a slight frown. He sucks in a deep breath. “The royals fill important diplomatic and charitable roles. Prince Dean has spearheaded addiction recovery programs and advocated against discrimination based on sexuality. He isn’t beholden to voters or any party, so he’s free to express himself - although I am sure there are limitations I am unaware of - and champion plenty of worthy causes that lack a figurehead because they are unpopular but morally right. Plenty of royals have been content to rest on their laurels and do nothing but throw parties like this with all the influence they could potentially wield but not Prince Dean.”

“Woah.”

Cas bobs a stiff nod. “Anyway, that’s why I sought that particular position.”

“Dude, are you a fanboy?” Dean asks, smiling despite himself. Thank god the mask hides most of his wild, embarassed blush.

“No.”

Dean laughs. “C’mon, Cas, you can admit it.”

“I will admit no such thing.”

“You know, one day, I’m gonna get that stick outta your ass,” Dean says conversationally.

Cas throws him an extremely put-upon look. “I’m not sure we’ll see each other again after tonight.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Dean says into his glass of wine.

Cas determinedly ignores him and resumes studying the ballroom for any sign of his target.

Dean sighs. “You’re not gonna give up until you see Michael, are you?”

“No.”

Heart sinking, Dean tugs on Cas’s sleeve to get his attention. “This way.”

“Where are we going?” Cas asks as he follows.

“The royals have private quarters near the ballroom.” Dean smirks. “Apparently the Queen can’t powder her nose while rubbing elbows with the little people.”

Lips pursing, Cas surmises eventually, “You don’t like the royal family.”

“What?” Dean pulls a face. “No, I like them just fine.”

Cas throws him a dubious look. “You’ve been nothing but dismissive of them since we met. Are,” he pauses, “are they disreputable employers? Are you treated unfairly in the workplace?”

“Oh my god,” Dean mutters, dragging a hand down his. “No, they’re fine.”

“The more times you say it, the less I believe it,” Cas says frankly.

Dean crosses his arms over his chest as he stops in a semi-secluded area behind a pillar next to the doorway to the royal quarters.

“Look, they’re fine. Really,” he repeats at Cas’s glare. “They might have a problem with nepotism - hardly a shocker, so I’m gonna let that one go.” He unfolds his arms, telling Cas seriously, “That’s how Michael got his job - his dad did a favor for the King a while back.”

Cas blinks.

Satisfied Cas won’t go around thinking his parents are caning their servants in their spare time, Dean peers around the pillar.

His heart sinks.

There should be at least one guard stationed outside, but the post is empty.

“Something’s wrong,” Dean murmurs as they approach the door.

On alert, Cas seamlessly slides in front of him to enter first.

Dean hardly recognizes the room as he steps inside. Priceless furniture is smashed to pieces, wooden splinters and stuffing scattered on the black-and-white tiles. A wooden table lies on its side, covered in bullet holes.

Two people are fighting in the center of the room. Michael, his face bare, his suit ripped at the shoulder, is being strangled by a man Dean doesn’t recognize.

“Lucifer!” Cas barks, striding forward, his steps sure.

Lucifer bangs Michael’s head against the floor with a sickening thud.

Michael goes still.

Dean catches the glimmer of the knife a second too late. “Cas!”

Cas knocks Lucifer’s wrist out of the way and the knife goes clattering to the side.

Lucifer swears and punches Cas in the face.

Cas careens back, his eyes murderous. He grabs a broken chair leg, flipping it in his hand for a better grip as he rushes at Lucifer.

With zero no finesse, he whacks it at Lucifer’s head.

Lucifer ducks, just in time to meet Cas’s other fist.

He goes down in a jumble of limbs.

“That was fast,” Dean mutters, shocked. Fight scenes in movies lasted hours compared to those ten seconds.

“Most fights usually are,” Cas says, dropping his chair leg and wiping his hands on his pants. He crouches by Lucifer, slips his hand into his jacket, and pulls out a pair of zipties. His face clinically blank, he binds Lucifer’s wrists and ankles.

Dean approaches Michael’s prone body, biting his lip. “Michael?”

Michael groans.

Cas walks over to stand next to him. “Where’s the Prince, Michael? Is he safe?”

Michael blinks muzzily up at them. He squints at Dean.

“Michael?” Cas prompts testily.

“Dean?” Michael slurs. “’S right there.” He points, aiming wildly over Dean’s left shoulder. He falls back to the floor with a grunt.

Cas frowns. “No, that’s…”

Dean looks away. He pulls out his phone for an excuse not to look at Cas’s face. Instead, he winces at the three hundred texts and ten missed calls from Sammy and Mom. Crap, he’s in so much trouble, but at least they seem okay. He calls Mom first, and he lets her get as far as, “Dean Robert Henry James Winchester where the hell have you-” before he hurriedly silences his phone.

“Dean?” Cas echoes, his voice weak.

Dean smiles sheepishly over at Cas. “I told you we’d be spending more time together.” He gestures down at Michael. “And now it seems I’m down one bodyguard. You still up for the gig?”

#suptober21 #destiel fanfic #destiel #fanfic #royalty au #prince dean winchester #bodyguard castiel #secret identity #rae writes fic

[creampuffqueen]

Getaway Car - Cresswell, TLC Shipweeks 2021 (Criminal AU)

a/n: Hello!!!! TLC fandom! It's been quite a while since I did anything for y'all! But here I am, back from the dead, with an unholy amount of one single fic for the ship weeks. I was going to post this yesterday, since that was Cresswell's AU day (I think, I wasn't originally planning to post anything so I wasn't keeping track, but I listened to Taylor Swift's song Getaway Car and got a Vision) but sadly my ideas were too large to complete in one day! So take this now!

Word Count: 13142 (yes, I know)

Summary: In an alternate universe, Cress and Thorne are partners in crime, literally. They may also be in love with each other, literally.

Warnings: Contains mentions of guns, violence, underage drinking, cursing, and a lot of crime

~~~~

“Cress, you got me?” Thorne’s voice crackled over the speaker of the burner phone, right into the waiting ears of the person he needed most.

His getaway car, Cress Darnel.

“Loud and clear!” She replied, twisting the key in the ignition of the old car. The engine roared to life under her touch, and the young woman sped out of the alleyway. “Keep going, I’ll be there. You know what to do.”

“We’ve done this almost a dozen times; I know what to do!”

The blonde cracked a grin to herself, “Sure you do. You’d be lost without me.”

“You got that right! See you in two! Mwah!” With that last endearment, the line went dead, and Cress chucked the cell phone out the window with an exasperated smile. She was parked close enough that the rendezvous spot only took her one minute, sixteen seconds to reach.

Timing was of the utmost importance to this mission. Even a few seconds too late and everything would end.

This was proven approximately thirty-eight seconds later, when Carswell Thorne, renowned criminal, tore around the corner, half-zipped duffel bag slung over a shoulder. He had a gun, but both he and Cress knew it wasn’t loaded, it was just for show.

The doors were unlocked, the car had a full tank of gas, and Cress was a very good driver. “Floor it!” Thorne shouted, and Cress didn’t have to be told twice.

When the police arrived, approximately twenty-two seconds later, they, and all evidence, were long gone.

~~~~

After an hour of driving, it was getting dark. Thorne discreetly hotwired a new car in a full supermarket parking lot, and the duo was on their way.

Another hour of driving, and Thorne took over the controls from the younger woman, letting her nap in the passenger seat. She curled up in a little ball, so small she didn’t even stick out of the seat. When she was fast asleep with her cheek squished against the window, Thorne finally risked a glance over to his partner.

It was strange to think they’d only known each other for a few months. Well, six months, two weeks, and five days, to be exact.

He’d tried to stop himself from keeping count. It hadn’t worked. Six months, two weeks, and five days of Cress Darnel being in his life.

It was about nine o’clock, so the traffic was beginning to thin a bit. They were in one of the busiest parts of the city, easy to blend in with their average-looking car. Someone honked behind him, and Thorne gave a glance in his rearview mirror. Whoops.

The day had been long and exhausting. Time to start working on a place to hunker down for the night. Cress shifted a bit in her sleep, and a loud grumble cut through the car. Okay, time to find some food, too.

He drove around the city a bit more, making sure nobody was on their tail, before finally exiting to the more sparsely-populated areas. Where you paid for your room in cash and nobody asked questions.

It was eleven o’clock by the time he finally found someplace suitable enough. He drove through a fast food joint nearby, then finally parked the car. Nudging Cress awake as he exited, he wordlessly passed her the food before heading inside.

Most of the rooms were sold for the night, but they thankfully had one available with two twin beds.

He found Cress devouring her burger like she hadn’t eaten in years. And-

“Hey, fry-stealer!” He chuckled, snatching his bag, “Eat your own!”

She gave him a look with those big blue eyes and something inside him melted. “I already ate mine.”

Thorne rolled his eyes, but passed her a couple more fries anyway. “This means you have to carry your own bag, you know.”

That statement earned him another pout, but he ignored it, instead grabbing his suitcase and the duffel bag containing today’s goods.

He left Cress to her own devices, heading inside the room and grabbing the shower first. His food would be cold, sure, but at least he’d get all the hot water he wanted.

When he came out again, toweling off his hair and rubbing his freshly-shaven face, Cress was inside, passed out on top of her hotel-made bed.

Thorne sighed, but couldn’t bring himself to be annoyed. It was exhausting, having so much brainpower all the time.

He tugged off her shoes, placing them neatly by the bed, in case they needed a quick escape. Then, gently, almost reverently, he tucked her under the covers.

He couldn’t resist. Making sure she was fully asleep, he pressed a soft, tiny kiss on top of her perfect golden hair.

“‘Night, Cress.”

He was fast asleep himself before he heard her reply.

“Goodnight.”

~~~~

The pair made an early departure, before other residents rose from their slumber and possibly compromised their location. Since Thorne had driven for so long yesterday, Cress felt it was only fair that she drove. It was a bit strange, she admitted, usually she was the night owl and he the early bird. But yesterday had been hard. It took a lot of planning to pull it off that smoothly.

By the time the sun rose, the pair was at least an hour away from the motel. Cress got them both coffee at a little roadside place, then pulled off to the side so they could enjoy it.

“You always get my order right,” Thorne chuckled, leaning against her as they sat in the open trunk of the car. “I’ve got a very sensitive palette, you know.”

Cress snorted, “You sure do. That’s just pure sugar in a cup right there.” She took a big gulp of her own brew, which was almost pure espresso.

“I don’t know how you can drink literal dirt water!” Thorne protested, “It’s so nasty!”

Cress bumped his shoulder again, still smiling. He grinned right back at her, before turning his eyes back to the early-morning sun.

“You ever think you’d get to see stuff like this? Do stuff like this?”

Cress could think of a thousand different witty remarks to toss back at him, mostly along the lines of “Being a wanted criminal? Absolutely.”, but for whatever reason, she held her tongue, instead replying, “No. Back then I didn’t even know when I’d see the sun next.”

Thorne turned his blue eyes over to her, squeezing her hand in a silent comfort. This close, she noticed that he’d shaved last night. And was letting his roots grow out again. Her heart sped up, just a bit.

In the six months she’d known him, he’d changed his appearance so often she was losing count. He always did after a heist, no matter how big or small. He dyed his hair, let his beard grow out, or sometimes simply donned a pair of glasses. Cress hadn’t changed hers since the very first.

~~~~

“Hey, blondie, where are you headed?” Cress whipped her head around to the voice that sounded. Rumbling up beside her was a car, front window rolled down, to reveal a young man, only a year or so older than her.

“None of your business,” She responded warily, curling in on herself a bit.

“Are you lost?” The guy continued, “I could give you a ride.”

“Like I’d get in a car with a strange man. That’s, like, begging to be killed.”

The guy looked actually offended at that. “What? I don’t kill people!”

Cress just rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the offer, but no.”

She turned away, hitching her backpack higher. She’d chickened out again. Sybil would be home any minute and she needed to get home. Her pace quickened, and the car and the guy rolled off.

Little did she know, that certainly wasn’t the last she’d see of him.

~~~~

“Alright, let’s see what we’ve got.” Cress pulled the duffel bag of stolen material towards her, beginning to rifle through it while Thorne watched. The late afternoon sun filtered through the window, turning her golden hair into an illusion of fire.

They’d ditched the car yet again, this time nabbing one from a used car parking lot. Now they were in a small town that the highway ran through, alone in a back alley, the only company being an alley cat in the trash and a couple further down that were too caught up in each other to notice anything.

Inside the bag, Cress pulled out treasure after treasure. A lot of cash; Thorne had the employees empty all the registers, and a lot of what Cress needed: Computer parts.

She had an old, run-down laptop, one of the few things taken with her from her previous life in the quiet suburbs. She would have had Thorne steal another laptop, but those were too traceable these days, even if they were brand new.

So manual upgrades it was.

Computers were her specialty, always had been. And now that she was a part of this merry band of two, her computer and her skills were integral parts to everything they did.

As it turned out, the most recent robbery had yielded exactly what she needed, and more. She gave a squeal of delight after unearthing a certain part, hugging it close to her chest.

A little chuckle sounded behind her, and Cress whipped her head around. Thorne was grinning ear-to-ear, the kind of smile that made her face heat up. “Happy, Goldilocks?”

Her face burned, and she twisted her fingers in her shoulder-length locks of hair. But she met his eyes and nodded. “Really happy. This is exactly what I needed.”

Thorne’s smile softened. “Anything for you, Princess.”

And somehow, deep inside her, she knew he was speaking the truth.

~~~~

Cress sprinted along the side of the road, the grass scratching at her bare legs. Her whole head throbbed, and her left wrist was sprained for sure. Every step pulled at the bruising on her stomach, and it was a struggle to keep moving, keep the backpack on her shoulders, keep moving.

“I’m eighteen now, she can’t hurt me anymore. I’m eighteen now, she can’t hurt me anymore,” She murmured over and over to herself, a mantra to keep her sore legs moving. She needed to leave, needed to keep moving.

She risked a glance behind her. Her heart froze.

Car lights were coming up the road. Fast.

Cress started running faster, biting her lip to keep from sobbing, keep from just keeling over and dying right there. She could beat her. She could escape. She just had to keep moving.

It was the middle of the night, there was no way anyone else but Sybil was driving that car. There was nowhere to hide. All she could do was keep going, and hope that maybe she sped right past. It was foolish, but it was all she had.

Her foot slipped into a small dip in the earth, and her whole ankle screamed, sending her toppling into the dirt. Coughing and sputtering, she pushed herself up, stumbling forward. The tears came, fast and hard and unstoppable. The lights were nearly on top of her now.

And that’s when she saw it. Another car, coming towards her. Her last chance.

Cress nearly toppled over herself in her haste, tumbling into the middle of the road, in the path of the incoming car. As expected, it screeched to a stop, the driver slamming on the horn.

“Help!” Cress screamed, as Sybil’s car pulled up behind her, her face illuminated by the other headlights and frozen in fury. “Please help me! She’s going to hurt me!”

“Crescent Moon!” Sybil bellowed, and Cress backed up against the other car. The driver’s door opened. And out stepped the most handsome man Cress had ever seen in her life.

Okay, she was definitely dreaming. She gave herself a tiny pinch.

Maybe not.

The man… he seemed familiar, somehow. She couldn’t quite place it.

“Cress,” Sybil snarled, stomping over, “Get in the car, now.” Her tone left no room for argument. Cress curled in on herself.

“Hey,” The man replied, “Who the hell are you?”

“Her mother.”

“Foster mother,” Cress interjected softly. “And I’m eighteen. You don’t own me anymore.”

If Sybil’s face could get more furious, it did. The man glanced between them, brows creasing as he took in Cress’s limp, her black eye, the way she held her stomach.

“You heard the girl. She doesn’t belong to you, witch.”

Sybil lunged, grabbing Cress’s sprained wrist. She screamed in pain, and the man moved.

And suddenly he was pointing a gun at her foster mother. Everyone froze.

“Let her go.” He said, “Leave her alone.”

Sybil backed away. “I’ll call the police, boy. You can’t threaten me.”

The gun clicked. He armed it. He pointed it straight at Sybil.

“It doesn’t matter. She’s eighteen. And if she comes willingly, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.”

And Cress really couldn’t say why, exactly, but in that moment she knew that he was truthful. That his words made sense, and more than that, she would go with him.

“I’m going with him, Sybil.” For the first time in her life, Cress Darnel was being brave. And it wasn’t a dream.

The man turned to her, flashing a grin, and Cress recognized him then. The same one who approached her nearly a month earlier.

“Cress, right?” He asked, when Sybil had retreated to her car and driven away, “Nice name. I’m Carswell, but everyone calls me Thorne. Oh, and sorry to scare you like that. This thing isn’t loaded, never has been.”

Cress glanced down the road, at the car growing steadily smaller in the distance. “Thanks for all that, Thorne. You showed up just in time.”

He offered her a hand to shake. “My pleasure, blondie.”

Despite everything, Cress found herself cracking a smile.

~~~~

“So, where to next, milady?” Thorne beamed, spreading a roadmap before them both. They’d finally stopped for the night, and were sitting on some questionable carpet in an even more questionable motel, figuring out their next plan.

“Dunno,” Cress shrugged, “Wherever’s good, I guess.”

“I mean, where you do want to see?” Thorne elaborated. “What’s your dream destination, Cress?”

She gave him a confused look. “Why?”

“You can say Disneyworld. I won’t judge.”

That earned him a snicker and a shove against the shoulder, and he could almost feel his heart swell with affection. She really was adorable, sitting in a tank top and pajama shorts, thick socks rolled around her ankles. He’d do anything to earn that smile again.

“I’m not sure, really. I’ve never had the chance to really think about it.”

“Well surely you must at least know some places. A place you’ve heard, maybe?”

Cress sighed, leaning further against him. “I don’t know, Thorne. What about you? Where do you want to go?”

“Ladies first, Goldilocks.”

“It’s Disneyworld, isn’t it.”

“You could hack their system and get us free tickets! And fast passes for all the rides! It would be great!” He replied enthusiastically.

“I mean in theory, sure, but Disney’s kinda notorious for being fairly unhackable.”

“Damn it.”

Cress yawned, laying nearly in his lap. “Let’s think about it tomorrow, ‘kay?”

Thorne lifted her, bridal style, to her bed, amidst her soft giggles. She sounded like a fairy. “Goodnight, milady. I shall seek thee out in the morning.”

Cress laughed harder, which turned abruptly into a yawn as she tucked herself beneath the covers. “Goodnight, my knight in shining armor.”

~~~~

Over the next few weeks, they travelled to wherever they felt like. The car they had was stolen from a junkyard, so it wasn’t like anyone was looking for it. Sure, it was a piece of crap, but it moved and it did its job.

They moved intermittently between small and big towns, usually only spending a day or two before hitting the road again. Cash was hard to come by, so they mostly resorted to stealing purses and pickpocketing. Cress felt a little bad about it, but hey, they needed to eat.

Things between her and Thorne were… changing. She couldn’t exactly tell how or why, but she knew they were. The change wasn’t bad, but it was different. And strange. And a tiny bit scary.

She’d find her gaze naturally finding his at any given moment, catch herself staring when she shouldn’t. She laughed at his dumb jokes more, focused on the sound of his voice when she should be focusing on the road.

He hadn’t changed his appearance in a long time. His hair was its natural shade of golden brown again, and he kept his face clean-shaven. The dumb glasses had been broken and dumped some time ago.

And it wasn’t just her that was staring, either. She felt his eyes, sometimes saw them too, when he thought she wasn’t looking. He was doing more and more to make her laugh. And he wasn’t being as careful to make sure she was asleep before he kissed her head goodnight.

Cress didn’t really know what to make of these changes. She couldn’t tell if these were good or bad. She wasn’t used to this, these butterflies in her stomach, this heat in her face. Sybil kept her isolated her whole life, and she was just now starting to really experience the world. Was it right to fall for the first guy her age she met?

Because she realized that’s what it was. They were in a moderately sized town, and were walking around the downtown area, looking for a place to eat and also some easy targets to fund said meal.

Sadly, this wasn’t an easy crowd. They had eyes in the backs of their heads, and after nearly an hour, they only had a meager ten dollars to show for it between them.

“Hey, chin up,” Thorne grinned, “We’ll be fine. I think I saw a fast food place up there, follow me.”

He grabbed her hand, and Cress couldn’t stop the dopey grin that found a permanent residence on her face. He’s holding my hand.

Unfortunately, it was a high end fast food place. The kind that had “gourmet” food at a third of the price of a fancy restaurant. Even the cheapest item on the menu really meant one meal to split between them both.

“You should eat, Cress.”

“No,” She protested, “Let’s find somewhere else. We both need to eat.”

He shrugged. “It’s late. Just promise to give me a bite, okay?”

She would have argued more, but she was really hungry. So, begrudgingly, she made her way to the register and bought dinner.

That was when she really realized what they were. He smiled at her the whole time while she ate her fill, head resting on his hands. He took the bite she offered, and refused any more. She knew he was hungry. And yet, he let her eat.

Anything for you, princess.

~~~~

Surprisingly, the guy hadn’t killed her yet. Weird. It had been three days. And he was still being nice to her.

They’d stayed in a motel nearby. Two separate beds. He’d been a perfect gentleman the entire time. He helped her ice her sprains and bruises every day. He made sure she was comfortable.

“Are you sure you really wanna be hanging out with me, Goldilocks?” He asked on the dawn of the fourth day, “There’s nowhere else you’d rather be?”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” She responded suspiciously. It’s not like she had anywhere to go, anyway.

“No, no, of course not!” Thorne insisted. “It’s just, weird, I guess. People don’t hang out with me willingly too much.”

“Why?”

He dramatically brushed his hair out of his eyes, “I’m just too good for them I guess.” Then he met her gaze with a serious look. “No, it’s because I’m a criminal.”

“Yeah, I kinda guessed.” Also she’d looked him up as soon as she had some time alone. It wasn’t hard to unseal his juvenile record, where she found he’d been arrested several times for theft. And once for grand larceny at seventeen, which was honestly kind of impressive. That also explained where all the money was coming from.

“Oh.”

Cress awkwardly looked away. “I mean, it’s whatever. I don’t care that much how you make money.”

“I promise I don’t steal from old ladies or hobos or anything like that.” Cress blinked at that. How had he known that was worrying her?

He seemed to also understand that, too. “You’re literally an open book, princess. You’re not good at hiding your emotions.”

That was their last interaction for the day. He left around lunchtime with an empty duffel bag, and Cress decided to look the other way, for now. She made herself comfortable the rest of the time, before finally falling asleep around nine o’clock.

She’d barely been asleep thirty minutes, according to the clock on the bedside table, when Thorne burst inside the room with a gasp.

“What’s going on?” Cress grumbled as he flicked on all the lights.

“Get up, we have to go. The police are right on my tail, I won’t lose them for long.”

Well, that was one hell of a wake up call.

Thorne was tossing his stuff haphazardly into his own backpack, shouting at Cress to do the same. The duffel bag on his shoulder was full, and Cress caught a small glimpse of green on the inside. Money.

Being inside the motel for four days, her things were strewn about. She was taking too long. With only her laptop and about half her clothes packed, Thorne decided it was time, and dragged her out of the motel room.

Cress was barely inside the car before he floored it, screeching out of the parking lot. His blue eyes were wide, but nearly as terrified as she expected.

Of course, she realized later, he’s an adrenaline junkie. He lives for these kinds of moments.

But at that moment, all her focus was on the road as Thorne sped through the streets, heading as fast as the car could go for the highway. In minutes, a police car was on their tail. Thorne pressed the pedal harder.

“How did this even happen?” Cress gasped, trying in vain to take her mind off the sirens behind them.

“Someone called 911 before I was done. I didn’t notice the phone until too late. Stupid mistake on my part.”

“You know,” She suggested, the seatbelt holding her tight against the seat as they screamed around a turn, “You could have just bought a signal blocker beforehand, that way nobody could call at all.”

“A what?”

“A signal blocker. They’re super cheap at like, any electronics store. Hell, I could have done it for you. It’s not that hard; it was one of the first hacker-y things I learned.”

Thorne turned to her with a grin. “You can do that?!”

“Yes. Eyes on the road!”

Many terrifying minutes later, they’d shaken off the police tail and made it to the freeway. Thorne’s smile was huge, and his attitude was becoming infectious.

“That was awesome! We totally knocked them off our trail!”

Cress chuckled awkwardly. “Yep. Except now we’re both wanted criminals.”

Thorne raised an eyebrow. “Both?”

Cress flushed. “Yeah, these windows aren’t tinted. They probably all saw me, and now I’m an accomplice to robbery.”

“Well then, Goldilocks, I think it might be time to show you my post-heist ritual.”

Thorne waved off her questions for another half hour, before he deemed it safe enough to get off the freeway and find a gas station. They parked and headed inside, keeping their heads down and both wearing hoodies. (This was the first of many of Thorne’s hoodies Cress stole).

In the abandoned bathroom, Thorne finally showed her what he was talking about. His hair, naturally a golden brown, was dyed black, and the stubble he’d been growing was shaved off as well.

Then it was her turn.

“Cut or dye?” Thorne asked, holding scissors in one hand and a box dye in the other.

She twisted a strand of her long, golden hair around a finger. Goldilocks. He called her Goldilocks. She liked that.

“Cut.”

“Awesome. I’m a great hairstylist. It’s my true calling.”

“So it’s not actually crime you’re called to?” Cress snickered as he began to snip.

“Well, that too. Crime and styling hair.”

“What a combo.”

When he was done, her hair littered the floor of the bathroom. Cress couldn’t stop staring, or running her hands through it.

“Does this make you my official partner, Goldilocks?” Thorne asked with a smile.

“I think it does.”

It was nice to be a part of something.

~~~~

“I’m bored.” Cress complained, splayed out on her bed.

“Uh huh,” Thorne replied, eyes flicking through a magazine he’d snatched that morning.

“I’m tired of pickpocketing.”

“I know you are, princess,” He turned a page, still not looking at her.

“Let’s go rob somewhere.”

That sure got his attention.

“I’m sorry,” Thorne started, “But did I just hallucinate? You want to rob someplace?”

Cress sat up to look him in the eye. “I mean, I don’t want to do the actual robbing. You do that. But I haven’t been your getaway car in weeks, and I’m bored.”

Thorne gave her a thoughtful look. “It has been a while. And I am tired of not being able to afford things.”

“So let’s do it!”

Her partner in crime glanced around the shitty motel room. “Not here. We need to find a better town.”

“Well, duh.” Cress fished around in Thorne’s bag and procured the road map. “It’s gotta be a bigger town than this hole-in-the-wall kind of place.”

So that was how the rest of their night went. Searching for a town nearby that was big enough to have a variety of places to choose from. A quick jog from the freeway, preferably, and with a low rate of crime to ensure police wouldn’t be super prepared for something like this.

It took another day of pickpocketing before they had enough for food and gas money, but they did it. Set out on the road, a plan in motion. Cress almost couldn’t believe it. She was the one who suggested robbery.

That beaten-down girl from the suburbs far away was long gone now. Instead, the new Cress was in her place. The Cress that was confident in her abilities.

And, of course, the Cress who was also hopelessly in love with her best (and only) friend.

They reached the town quickly enough. They’d driven for longer hours before. However, they’d set out later than they wanted, and as such reached their destination much later than they wanted. It was almost one in the morning when they finally pulled up to a motel just outside their chosen city’s limits.

“You got any rooms?” Thorne asked the night manager through a yawn.

“Yeah, just one though.”

“Whatever, we’ll take it.”

The rest of the transaction was quick and wordless. Cress was slumped against Thorne’s side, nearly asleep on her feet. He grabbed the room key and they trudged to the room, both half-asleep.

He unlocked the door. They stepped inside, just like they had dozens of motel rooms.

This one, however, was markedly different.

Instead of their regular two beds, this one only had one.

Taking in the scene, Cress woke up a bit, stiffening slightly.

“Shit,” Thorne mumbled, “This isn’t right.”

“It’s the last room available,” Cress reminded him.

“Right. Okay, I’ll take the floor. Just toss me one of those pillows and I’ll be good.”

Cress snorted. “I’m not doing that. You just drove all day. I’ll take the floor.”

“What? No way. Take the bed, Cress.”

“No, you.”

“No, you.”

“No, you.”

With a loud groan, Cress finally said, “Fine! We both take the bed! It’s not that big of a deal.”

Thorne’s eyes went a bit wider. Cress could feel her face start to warm. She looked away.

“I- no, that’s-”

“Goddamn it, shut up and sleep in the bed. We’re big kids, you take one half and I’ll take the other.”

And that was that. Neither bothered to change, as tired as they were, instead just slipping their shoes off and climbing into bed.

The first thing Cress noticed about sharing a bed was that it was warm. Really warm. This was fantastic, as she was always cold when she slept.

“Cress, what are you-”

“Shut up,” She sighed, as she curled herself closer to Thorne’s body, “You’re warm.”

“Oh.”

Not only was her whole body warm, but her face was burning. This was a bad idea. And yet, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. Thorne was stiff in her arms, and she squirmed closer.

“Relax. I can’t sleep if you’re stiff as a board.”

“Sorry,” He whispered. He became a little less tense, which Cress decided was good enough.

In minutes, they were fast asleep.

~~~~

Cress woke up cold. Which totally sucked, because she’d gone to bed nice and warm. When she cracked open her eyes, she noticed that the bed was markedly empty.

Sitting up, she looked around for Thorne, but caught no sight of him. She sat up further, looking over the edge of the bed.

Oh.

He was sleeping on the floor, snoring very quietly. He took the scratchy blanket the motel provided, along with one of the towels and a pillow, and had made himself a place on the floor.

Cress’s face positively burned. Burying her face in her pillow, she let out a silent scream of embarrassment and frustration.

She’d thought into it too much. Of course he didn’t like her like that, why would he? She was just some random girl he’d picked up off the road, the brains of his criminal operation. He wasn’t secretly in love with her. He never was.

It was early. And she was still tired. But just to make sure she didn’t wake him up, Cress slipped into the bathroom to have the cry she so desperately needed, before tiptoeing back to bed and falling asleep once more.

She woke up many hours later, to the sun shining bright into her face. Thorne was awake, she determined by the shadow moving about the room.

“Hey there, Goldilocks,” Thorne chuckled, “Was that bed just right for you?”

“Yeah, it was fine,” She replied, not meeting his gaze. “What time is it?”

He snorted again. “Noon.”

“Damn.”

He tossed her a bag, which she caught quickly. “Lunch. Or, for you, breakfast.”

She couldn’t help the small laugh at that. “Thanks.”

The day passed slowly after that. Cress showered, thankful for the hot water to rinse off the grime and the feelings of the past few days. She and Thorne watched shitty reality TV that was on at three pm, laughing when he got way too into Say Yes to the Dress. Finally, they couldn’t ignore the rumbling of their stomachs anymore, and decided to go find dinner.

Of course, in order to get dinner, they needed money. Something they were in short supply of. Time to work the crowd again.

They had morals about who they pickpocketed. Or, really, Cress did. If she wasn’t around she was sure Thorne would definitely be an old lady purse-snatcher. But he always made sure to only steal from well-off people ever since Cress joined him.

Her gaze followed a man dresses in nice clothes from where they sat on a bench, Thorne’s arm slung over her shoulder in an effort to look casual. She nudged him, pointing at the target with her eyes.

“Nah, that Rolex is fake. He’s only pretending to be rich. But that guy over there-” He pointed out someone else, and Cress started up the act.

“Sir!” She chirped brightly, stepping directly in his path. The man started, taking in the tiny girl before him.

“Can I help you?”

“Yes, I’m trying to find my cousin, have you seen him?”

The man glanced around. “What does he look like?”

Cress stood on her tiptoes, gesturing as she spoke, “About this high, same hair and eyes as me. I just saw him, I don’t know how I got lost!”

From behind the man, Thorne gave her a conspiratorial wink as he plucked the wallet from his back pocket. The look was clear. Keep working him.

“I saw him over there last, do you see him? It’s hard to see with this crowd.” She pointed away, keeping his attention elsewhere as Thorne rifled through the wallet, stuffing bills and coins in his own pockets.

“No, I’m really sorry. Maybe try calling him.” The man gave her a smile, and began to walk away. As he retreated, Cress spotted the bulge in his back pocket, where the empty wallet had been replaced.

“Thanks for your help, mister!”

She turned to Thorne as they made their way to a more secluded corner of the street, “How’d we do?”

“Great, actually! That guy had a lot of cash on him. Let’s go eat.”

As they walked, Cress was suddenly aware of Thorne grabbing her hand, holding her close. She glanced up at him, heart pounding.

He just smiled. “Wouldn’t want to lose you for real.”

~~~~

“Drive!” Thorne shouted, slinging his whole body into the car.

“But-” Cress protested.

“DRIVE!”

“Okay, okay, geez!” Cress pressed the gas, but Thorne sat up behind her.

“Faster! Cops will be here any minute!”

Cress’s heart was in her throat as she sped up. “But I blocked the signal.”

“And you said it yourself, it only holds for as long as the satellite is in position, which it will be out of any time! We’ve gotta go! Faster!”

So Cress went faster. At Thorne’s instruction, she did her best to throw off the tail of anyone who could be following. Screaming around turns, suddenly going back the way she just came, tearing through alleyways and side streets. She ran every red light she could, narrowly avoiding accidents multiple times.

“Maybe you should drive,” She suggested after a few minutes, but Thorne shook his head with a smile.

“Nah, you’re pretty good at this. I knew you had it in you.”

Eventually, they made it out of town, a bag full of stolen cash and goods. Thorne took over driving, but only after Cress stopped the car and demanded it.

“So, you hungry?”

“Huh?”

“Are you hungry?” Thorne repeated. “You did great today. You deserve a treat.” After a glance at a sign on the road, he asked, “Does Sonic sound good?”

“I guess. I’ve never had it.”

His jaw dropped. “You’ve never had it? Jesus Christ, your life is sad.”

Cress wrapped her arms around herself, glancing down. Thorne seemed to realize his mistake. “Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“It’s fine,” Cress lied, not meeting his eyes. “Let’s get this Sonic thing or whatever.”

“You’re gonna love it, Goldilocks. Promise.”

He was right. She did love it. And as they sat, eating greasy fast food beneath the stars, the earlier argument was forgiven and soon forgotten.

Cress promised herself that night that her life would never be sad, not ever again.

~~~~

“This is literally the worst idea, idiot,” Cress groaned, standing awkwardly outside a place she really didn’t belong: The local liquor store.

“Relax, it’s fine,” Thorne assured her, hauling along a case of White Claws. “You’re eighteen, that’s old enough to have a little drink, I think.”

“You’re not even old enough to legally buy it!” She protested.

He smirked, waving a little card with his other hand. “Fake ID, blondie.”

They made their way back to their motel, still arguing.

“We’re going to be here for a while during the planning part! We can at least have a little fun! It’s not like I’m going to a bar or anything.”

“Yeah, but if the cashier knew it was a fake ID and called the police, everything could be done for!”

His eyes narrowed. “Wait. So you’re not against the principle of underage drinking itself, but rather the fact we could get caught?”

She looked away. “I mean, it’s whatever.”

When the door was locked, Thorne opened up the case and cracked one open. “I like the lime ones the best. You’ll probably like the lemonade one better. Or maybe the raspberry. They’re sweeter.”

Glancing between the curtains and the blinds shut tight, Cress assured herself that nobody was outside, nobody was watching. With a sigh, she opened up a White Claw of her own. “You’ve thoroughly corrupted me, Carswell Thorne.”

“It’s what I do best, sweetheart.”

That was a new one.

They got a little planning done as they drank, but as the night wore on, and they both indulged themselves in another drink, then another, they started caring less and less about the upcoming heist.

Cress noticed she felt different by White Claw number two, but had another, just because she wanted to try all the flavors. Lemonade so far was the best, raspberry a close second. Mango, despite being a good flavor on its own, was actually disgusting. And Thorne had claimed all the limes for himself.

Everything around her was fuzzy. It felt like she was swimming in her own head. And everything was also really funny, too. At one point Thorne burped loudly, and while normally Cress would have groaned and scolded him, this time she began to giggle hysterically.

Thorne shot her a concerned glance. “Okay there, Goldilocks?”

Cress snickered. “You’re funny.”

“Right. And you are drunk. How many-” She noticed his eyes widen at the two empty cans, and the one in her hand. “Shit, Cress, that’s enough.”

He snatched the can from her, and she flopped onto the floor, still laughing. “Everything’s so spinny, Thorne.”

“Yeah, I’m getting you some water. Stay right there.”

“Sir yes sir,” She slurred, then giggled at her own voice.

Water began to run in the little bathroom. What had Thorne said about water again? Curious, she pulled herself up, then stumbled towards the sound.

He doing something at the sink. Cress slipped behind him, then in a sudden burst of immense confidence, wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his strong back.

“Cress?” His voice came out almost strangled. “What are you doing?”

“You’re warm,” She mumbled. “I like hugging you.”

Thorne sighed. “Not that I don’t like hugging you too, you need some water, maybe some Advil, and then you need to go to bed.”

He tried to pull away, but Cress held on tighter. “Noooo, don’t leave,” She whined.

Thorne managed to maneuver himself so instead of being wrapped around his back, she was facing him, chest to chest. “C’mon, Goldilocks, drink some water.”

She gave him her infamous puppy dog eyes, but he shoved the glass in her face. “Drink up.”

“You’re mean,” She muttered, but did as he said and drained the glass. She looked up again, her blue eyes meeting his own. “You didn’t wanna be my snuggle partner last night, and I got cold.”

Thorne looked away, and if she wasn’t so buzzed, Cress might have noticed the blush.

“Let’s get you to bed, okay? Can you dress yourself?”

She definitely had too much liquid courage. “You could help me, if you wanted.”

Thorne pulled away. “No thanks. You seem capable enough. He stepped out of the bathroom, and passed her a pair of pajamas from the outside. “Drink some more water while you’re at it.”

When she opened the door again, she instantly latched onto him again. “Cress,” He chuckled awkwardly, “I can’t move.”

“Then you can’t leave,” She murmured. For some reason she felt really sad now, almost to the point of tears. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never, Goldilocks. Let’s get you to bed.”

He tried to move, but Cress held tighter. “You’re gonna have to drag me,” She warned.

“Not a problem.” In one motion, Thorne swept her off her feet, literally. Carrying her bridal style, her arms wrapped over his shoulders, he carried her effortlessly to the bed. The single bed, that they both shared.

She was laid down on the bed gently, but Cress refused to let go. “Don’t leave me,” She whispered, over and over again. With nowhere else to go, Thorne finally gave in and laid down with her, letting the smaller woman curl against him.

“Goodnight, Cress.”

Her eyes were heavy, but she looked at him anyway. “You always kiss my head goodnight.”

His face flushed harder. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She unlatched one hand, tapping the top of her own head. “Right here. Almost every night.”

He couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes again, she knew. With a sigh, he leaned over and pressed a chaste kiss on top of her head. Cress gave a happy sigh, and settled down on the pillow.

Neither of them moved all night.

~~~~

Everything hurt the next morning. Her stomach, her joints, her head.

“What in the fuck happened last night?” She mumbled into the shoulder of the person next to her.

The… person in the bed with her.

Cress shot up violently, instantly regretting it as her head throbbed harder. The person the shoulder belonged to groaned, opening up their eyes. Their familiar eyes.

“I feel like shit,” She sighed, as Thorne sat up next to her.”

He chuckled. “I kinda guessed that you would. You overindulged, princess.”

Things were coming back in bits and pieces, though everything was still fuzzy. “Why’d I have so much?”

“You wanted to try all the flavors.”

Right. “Mango tastes like shit,” She lamented, “I’m never drinking again.”

“Then who’s going to help me finish off the case?” Thorne chuckled.

“I would have helped you with the limes if you didn’t hog them all for yourself.”

“Princess, if I let you have a fourth you would have woken up in the hospital.”

“No, not a fourth, I mean instead of the nasty mango-”

Suddenly, as she leaned closer, Thorne winced, and backed away. “Whoa. Hangover breath. You need a shower.”

Cress’s face flushed. “Yeah. I’ll go do that.”

As she washed off the feeling of last night’s mistakes, more memories came back. But not quite everything. She was still missing a chunk: why she and Thorne had woken up in the same bed, after he’d left her alone the night before.

She got dressed, brushed her teeth, and drank some more water, before stepping out of the bathroom with the towel still wrapped around her dripping hair. Thorne stood up to take his own shower, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Hey, did… anything… happen, last night? I can’t remember everything, and if I said something weird-”

“Nah,” Thorne replied with a shrug, “You just got giggly, then suddenly weepy and clingy. You were really set on me not leaving you alone.”

She ducked her head, blushing. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s fine,” Thorne assured her. “I mean, you’ve never been drunk before, it’s not your fault you didn’t know how you’d respond.” With that, he stepped away, into the bathroom, which was soon filled with the sound of running water.

Cress sighed, glancing around the motel room. Last night’s activities had left it trashed. So while she waited, she cleaned up.

About twenty minutes later, they were both back in the car, on their way for some coffee. Thorne had even decided to get black coffee for once, in an effort to ward away the hangover.

“So…” He started awkwardly, and Cress’s heart stopped. What was he going to say? Had she really embarrassed herself last night?

“You wanna talk about why you were so obsessed with me not leaving? I mean, I know before all this your life was pretty shitty, so I get it if you don’t want to talk, but-”

“My dad left when I was seven.” She stated simply.

“Oh.”

They got their coffee, and headed back to the motel. Thorne met her eyes again with another awkward smile. “You also seemed pretty upset that I slept on the floor the other night.”

Heat rushed to her face. “It’s not that big of a deal, it doesn’t matter that much.”

“Drunk Cress had other things to say.”

She didn’t answer.

Back inside the room, Thorne spoke up. “You wanna know why I slept on the floor?”

She shrugged. “It’s whatever. It’s fine if it was too much or something. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

His blue eyes got big. “No, no, that’s not what happened. Look, Cress, have you ever slept with anybody before?”

“What?!” Her entire face went red, and Thorne’s did as well, when he realized his words.

“Shit, no, not like that. I mean have you ever shared a bed with somebody before?”

“Oh. No, I haven’t.”

“Listen, Cress.” Thorne leaned in close, and her heartbeat somehow sped up and stopped at the same time. “I liked sleeping in the same bed as you. But…”

Oh no.

“You kick. Like, a lot.”

What?

Cress nearly spat out her coffee. “That’s why you slept on the floor?!”

“Yes!” Thorne laughed. “It was all fine and dandy until you kicked me in the groin at three in the morning!”

Her face fell into her hands. “Oh my God.”

“And I mean, I had to save the boys-”

“Shut up! Stop talking!” Thorne gave a loud cackle, and Cress gave into her own hysterical laughter. “That’s what this was all about?”

Things fell back into place easily after that. In fact, they seemed to fall further into place. They plotted and they schemed, searching out their target and making their plan. They never went in blind, and they weren’t about to start now.

And when they slept, they slept in the same bed. Thorne tucked her into his chest, arms holding her steady, and she never felt cold or alone while she slept. To keep from kicking, Cress twined their legs together.

Neither mentioned the obvious shift in their relationship. But they both knew it was growing deeper by the day. They woke up in each others’ arms. Thorne came up behind her randomly during the day to wrap himself around her waist and rest his head on her shoulder. He kissed her head before they slept each night. Cress was never asleep.

The day came, the day they’d been planning for weeks. They were ready. Whatever happened today, they knew that no matter what, they’d always have each other at the end of the day.

~~~~

“Cress, you read me?”

Sitting in the car, ready and waiting for his voice, Cress replied, “I read you. How’d it go?”

“Without a hitch! Incoming in about three minutes.”

“I got you, captain.”

“Ooh,” Thorne chuckled over the speaker, “I like that.”

Cress rolled her eyes. “Focus on running, doofus. I’ll be there.”

“Mwah!” The line went dead, and Cress tossed the burner phone like she always did. She arrived at the rendezvous in two minutes, eight seconds, leaving the doors unlocked for their quick exit.

Thirty-four seconds later, and the familiar sight of Thorne running for his life arrived. With a wild grin, he threw himself and the bag inside, and Cress sped away. At this point, she was an expert at losing the police.

“How much?”

“Close to five thousand!” He beamed. “It’s gonna last us a long time!”

“You’re fantastic,” She grinned back.

“Nah, sweetheart, it’s all you. I’d totally be in jail by now if I hadn’t met you.”

“I mean,” Cress giggled as she sped out to the freeway, “Prison’s always still on the table.”

“Then don’t get us caught, blondie.”

“You wanna stop at a gas station and change your look?”

Thorne glanced in the mirror, seeing they weren’t being followed. “No, I think the ski mask was enough. Plus, I wore the lifts in my shoes just like you said, so they can’t see my real height.”

“Cool. So, where to now?”

Thorne leaned back in his seat. “Wherever your heart desires, milady.”

Cress smiled softly, finding his hand over the center console. “Okay. Let’s go.”

~~~~

They switched cars that night, then kept driving. The adrenaline was keeping Cress going, even as Thorne finally dozed off. She’d forgotten how good that rush felt. Thorne had fully turned her into an adrenaline junkie, the same as him.

During the planning phase, they plotted their escape route thoroughly. There were multiple directions to exit, and they scoped each one out to see what worked the best. In the process, she’d looked extensively at the road map. And for whatever reason, the tiny, blip-on-the-map town called Farafrah was calling to her.

So that was where she went. It wasn’t too far away, but far enough that they’d be safe from the police of the other city. They could lay low for a bit before continuing on. There were so many other places to go. Cress wanted to see it all.

This time, it was Cress who drove through and got dinner. Cress who rented the motel room for the night. And it was Cress who urged Thorne out of the car and inside. Where the single bed was waiting.

They had their routine down pat. They rinsed off, even though it was eleven o’clock, changed into pajamas, and settled down for the night. Cress curled into Thorne’s side, her safe place.

“Goodnight.” Tonight, his kiss was on her forehead. And tonight, it lingered. Cress was smiling as she fell asleep.

Many hours later, she was woken up by another gentle kiss to her head. “C’mon princess, you’ve had enough beauty sleep.”

She rolled over, a contented smile on her face, even if she had to squint at the light coming in through the curtains. “Morning,” she whispered, voice raspy from sleep.

“I’ve found a nice brunch spot. I think you deserve something nice after everything yesterday.”

Cress sat up, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes. “You spoil me.”

“You know it, Goldilocks. I bet this place is gonna be just right.”

That earned him a pillow to the face, Cress rolling her eyes. “You doofus.”

“OH! I’ve been mortally wounded by my dear lady!” Thorne groaned from the floor. Cress peered over at him, only to have the pillow chucked back at her head.

“You don’t know what you’ve just started,” She warned with a smile. Within seconds they were in a full on pillow fight, flinging pillows bath and forth as they screamed with laughter.

After a few minutes Thorne managed to get the upper hand, smacking her right across the face with a pillow. Cress was knocked down on the bed, and he pinned her down with a laugh. A moment later his fingers found purchase under her arms, and he tickled her until she squealed.

“Stop! Stop! I forfeit!” Cress giggled, squirming away. Thorne was panting with laughter, still sitting on top of her.

“Learned your lesson, princess?”

She smacked his face with another pillow and escaped to the bathroom with her clothes.

Finally, nearly half an hour after she woke up- a new low for the duo who could get up and out in three minutes- they made their way to a little brunch spot in the middle of the littler town.

Their waitress was a woman about their age with a prosthetic hand named Cinder. She had a lot of personality, and had enough sarcasm to rival each of Thorne’s witty remarks.

About halfway through the meal (which was delicious), a little idea began to form in Cress’s mind. When Cinder came back to refill their drinks, Cress decided to ask her a question.

“How’d you end up here?”

The waitress shrugged. “Car broke down. Stayed to get it fixed, ended up making some friends and decided to stay. I could ask the same of you two.”

Thorne and Cress glanced at each other, before Cress replied simply, “Travelling through.”

Later, when she came back to deliver the check, Cress asked another question: “If you could do anything with your life, what would it be?”

Both Thorne and the waitress gave her a quizzical look. Thankfully, neither asked for elaboration. Instead, Cinder donned a slightly puzzled look as she thought.

Finally, she responded, “I want to open up a mechanical repair shop. For all kinds of machines.” Her dark eyes lit up as she began to ramble a little bit, about all the kinds of things she could do, what she could learn. But after a minute, her voice took on a slightly somber tone. “But, that’s not gonna happen. I’m always worrying about rent nowadays, I don’t have enough to save for anything.”

“How much is your rent?” Cress continued. The waitress stiffened.

“Why do you want to know?” She asked suspiciously.

Cress squeaked, “Sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, but…” She scrambled for a quick lie.

Thankfully, Thorne picked it up for her. “We’re thinking of moving here. We just wanted to know how much rent was.”

Cinder relaxed. “Oh. Well, it’s about $600 a month.”

Cress smiled, taking the check from their waitress. “Thanks, Cinder. It was great. We’ll fill this out in a minute.”

Clearly dismissed, the woman offered them a smile before departing. When they were alone again, Thorne turned a questioning gaze over to her. “What was that all about?”

She shrugged. “Dunno. I just… wanted to know. She seemed nice.”

“I agree. I’ll give her a good tip.”

Cress’s smile got big. “Wait, let me run back to the car real quick. I want to give her a big tip.”

She came back just two minutes later, her pockets stuffed. Thorne’s eyes got big. “How big a tip do you mean?!”

Cress methodically smoothed the $50 bills out, keeping them out of sight below the table. She tied the stack with a hairtie she kept on her wrist, and stuck it inside the little checkbook left on the table. Just to make sure they were really clear, she scribbled out on the receipt, “The money is for the meal. The rest is for you. Good luck.”

Primly, Cress stood up, brushing her leggings off. She offered her hand to the man sitting next to her, whose jaw was pretty much on the floor. Almost in a daze, he took it, and she led him out to the car.

Finally, back in the motel, Thorne rounded on her. “What the hell, Cress?! How much money did you give her? A thousand? Two?”

“Two thousand.”

“What the fuck! Why?!”

“Because,” Cress took his hand, looking deep into his blue eyes, “She needed it. More than we do, really. Thorne, whenever we run low on money we pickpocket and we steal and we rob. That girl, she’s too good for any of that. And if something like that didn’t happen, she was going to spend the rest of her life stuck in that restaurant, in this town in the middle of nowhere where she’d never grow.”

Thorne sighed heavily, rubbing the back of her hand with her thumb. “I wish you’d at least told me before you did it.”

“Why?”

That gave him pause. “I guess… we’ve been so in sync for months now. I feel like I know you, Cress, more than I’ve ever known anyone. And yet, I had no idea you were nice enough to just give away two thousand dollars to a stranger.”

She smiled up at him. “You’re that nice too, Thorne.”

“What? No, I’m not.”

Cress gave his hand a little squeeze. “If you weren’t that nice, you’d have taken the money back. You like to pretend you’re this big bad hardened criminal, but you’re still good, deep down. You show me that every day.”

At that, he pulled her in for a hug. “It’s because of you, Cress. Blondie. Goldilocks. Princess. Every day, you remind me that there’s still good in the world. Even if it’s not us doing the good. But you… you make me want to be good.”

Cress might have been crying. Thorne was definitely crying, his tears falling into her golden hair. “You saved me. Carswell Thorne, you saved my life that night. I always dreamed when I was little that someday I’d be saved. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

Thorne pulled away, still holding her, still sniffling. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me, Cress. I hope you know that.”

“I hope you know you’re the same to me.”

~~~~

They decided to stick around in Farafrah for a few more days. They had a bit more money to burn on fun before they got moving again and needed to get back in the swing of their criminal ways. The pair spent the day exploring the little down, taking in the sights. And at night, they cuddled in bed, watching whatever happened to be on TV until they got so tired their eyes were falling closed.

It was the morning of their second day when the objective suddenly changed.

Thorne came into the room, bringing coffee and croissants with him. As well, he’d managed to procure a local newspaper, which he handed to Cress alongside her breakfast.

The pair sat in comfortable silence for about twenty minutes, simply basking in the other’s presence as they ate. When she finished with her croissant, Cress opened up the paper.

And stopped dead in her tracks.

“Cress?” Thorne glanced over when he heard the soft gasp. “What’s wrong?”

Wordlessly, she passed him the paper, pointing out an article. It wasn’t hard to miss, in big, bold letter along the top: LOCAL ANIMAL SHELTER UNDER INVESTIGATION DUE TO CLAIMS OF ABUSE AND NEGLIGENCE.

“Shit,” Thorne muttered, “That’s awful.”

“Those poor animals,” Cress lamented with a sad sigh. “I wish we could do something about it.”

For Thorne, he thought that was the end of it. He headed out to go explore some more, but Cress opted to stay behind. He didn’t think too much of it; she was a fairly antisocial personality and had done a whole lot of talking to strangers the past few days. She probably just needed a day to herself to recharge.

What he didn’t expect, however, was to come back several hours later to find empty coffee cups and a couple RedBull cans strewn about, and Cress hunched over her laptop looking nearly frantic.

“Whoa, what’s all this?” She glanced up, and Thorne took a step back. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot.

“Thorne. I’ve got it! I know how we can do something! We can save all those animals! Come here!”

Cautiously, he took a few steps closer. Cress grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him over. She was surprising strong for someone so petite.

And what he saw pulled up on her screen…

HOW TO MAKE A HOMEMADE BOMB

“Whoa! Cress, slow down!”

“But I figured it out! Sit down, I’ll go over it with you!”

He yanked his arm away. “Cress. Look at me. Listen to me. We cannot blow people up because they might be abusing some shelter animals.”

Her blue eyes hardened. “Well, that isn’t the plan. We’re not blowing up people. Even if they deserve it.”

“When did you get so violent all of a sudden?” He took another glance around the room. “I’m never letting you have a RedBull ever again.”

“But-”

“No. No bombs. The police will take care of whatever’s going on with the shelter.”

Cress gestured around the room, almost violently. “How can we trust that?! The police haven’t caught us yet.”

Thorne sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Fine. What the hell. Tell me your plan.”

She almost squealed with delight, but he cut in- “That doesn’t mean we’ll do it though. And if you go solo and get caught, I’m not bailing you out for your own mistakes. We don’t bomb. We rob.”

“Okayokayokay, listen up. Here’s how it goes…”

~~~~

It was exactly two months since they’d met, and the new duo had just completed their third heist. They’d robbed a fast food joint after it closed. Cress was really good at finessing the alarms so they didn’t sound as they emptied the registers.

Now, they were still driving. It was late, and Thorne was beginning to doze off. He needed to find a rest stop soon, or risk running them right off the road.

As for Cress, she was quickly headed in the same direction. Her head would tilt forward as she fell asleep, just for a few seconds, then rapidly jerk back, and she’d go back to fighting sleep.

“You can sleep, you know, blondie,” Thorne offered. “I’m looking for a rest stop so we can sleep for a bit.”

“But you’re driving,” She protested through a yawn, “I don’t want you to be alone.”

He cracked a smile at that. “I’m not alone. I’ve got you now.”

“No, but-” Another yawn- “You won’t have anyone to talk to. I’ve gotta keep you awake so you don’t kill us both.”

“I’m not gonna kill us both.”

Her eyes flicked up, out the windshield. “You’re drifting.”

“Shit.” She was right. He rubbed at his eyes, wishing they’d stopped at that gas station a few miles back to grab an energy drink. The rest stop was about two miles ahead, but Thorne was really beginning to struggle.

“Can’t fall asleep…” Cress mumbled, just as her head tilted forward again. Thorne snorted when, once again, she jerked up with a groan of frustration.

“Just sleep, Cress,” Thorne urged gently. “We’re almost there, I promise.”

She gave a cursory glance out the car, seeming to check and make sure he was still driving correctly. Finally, after another long minute, her head titled. She was falling asleep again.

This time, however, she dozed off with her head against his shoulder.

Maybe it was the time of night. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation. But for whatever reason, having Cress against his shoulder, safe and sleeping, felt right. More right than anything else had in his nineteen years of life.

They made it to the rest stop ten minutes later. Thorne pulled off to the side and put the car in park before turning it off. Cress snoozed on.

Finally, he could relax. Thorne leaned back with a contented sigh, smiling a bit to himself as Cress nestled further against him.

He wrapped an arm over her shoulder, keeping her close by. And, for whatever reason, that felt right too.

Maybe it was the same reason that caused him to plant a tiny, barely-there kiss to the top of her golden head.

Yeah. It was just the sleep deprivation, for sure.

~~~~

They were doing this. They were actually doing this. Thorne was going crazy. Why had he agreed to this again, exactly? He shot a glance at the blonde woman at his side.

Right. Her. Since when had his judgement been so addled around her?

Always, idiot, his brain reminded him.

Shut up, brain.

They were inside the largely-contested Farafrah Animal Shelter. The same one that was under investigation for abuse and negligence.

Holding his hand, Cress smiled brightly at the man leading them among the cages. Her other hand gripped the straps of her purse. To everyone else, the smile was genuine, but to Thorne, who knew her best, it was as fake as could possibly be.

“And these are all of our felines we have at the moment. Do any of them possibly interest you?”

Cress shot Thorne a smile, this one a bit more real. “Let’s look around, darling, shall we?”

“Of course, my dear.” He gave her his best impression of an adoring look. Little did he know it was about as real as it could get.

“I’ll give you two a moment. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”

Cress squeezed his hand harder and dragged him to the farthest cage in the room. As they passed cage after cage, they saw the same things they had with the dogs: matted fur, frightened animals, some so scrawny their ribs were evident even from a distance. Neglect. It was bad. They reached the end of the room, and Cress took a glance inside the cage they stood next to.

Instantly, her face lit up as she took in the cat. It was a black and white thing, scrawny really, the nametag reading “Boots”.

“He’s so cute!”

“No.”

“But-”

“That’s not why we came,” Thorne sighed, making sure the man was really gone.

Cress sighed. “But he’s so cute. And wouldn’t it be nice to have a little companion?”

“A cat? As a roadtrip companion?”

“A cat is better to your criminal look, you know. So you can turn around in a chair dramatically while stroking his fur and say ‘I’ve been expecting you’.”

Thorne rolled his eyes. “Life’s not a TV drama, princess.”

“Life is its own drama! Make it your own!”

“How would we even take care of a cat on the road?”

Cress dragged him closer to the cage. “Just look at him. Look at his sad little face. He’d be the perfect roadtrip cat. I just know it.”

Thorne opened his mouth to protest again, but then the black and white furball gave a plaintive mewl and all the thoughts left his brain.

“Okay… he’s kind of cute… I guess.”

Cress nearly squealed with delight. “He is! Besides, think about it; we need a plan to get into the office. It’s the perfect ruse!”

Boots the cat meowed again. “You wanna go commit crimes with us, buddy?” Thorne asked.

“Meow!”

“He says yes,” Cress whispered conspiratorially in his ear. “Let’s get him.”

As they walked to the office, Thorne hung his head in defeat. “I can’t believe I just let you talk me into getting a crime cat.”

The blonde had a bounce in her step, swinging their joined hands delightedly. “You’re fully at my disposal.” Oh, she didn’t know how right she was.

It took a few minutes to reach the office from the kennels, but they both knew that. Cress had hacked the blueprints for the building several days ago, and they’d both memorized them from top to bottom. The offices were the furthest away from the kennels, likely to keep the noise down.

Finally, they reached their destination. Cress knocked politely on the door, bringing out her most innocent look. The one that always served the perfect distraction while Thorne expertly stole their wallet.

The man answered the door after one knock. “Have you made a decision?”

Cress and Thorne locked eyes, then turned back an nodded in unison. “We have.”

The paperwork was extensive, and Thorne was sure he had to sign his name at least a hundred times. He made sure to read carefully, though; Cress had warned him about possible legal traps. By law, animals shelters were required to vaccinate all their animals before adoption, and strongly push the idea of neutering. But in the paperwork, vaccines were of no mention. The entire time, the man simply sat silently with a small serpentine smile.

Finally, after the paperwork was signed and handed back, the man stood, offering Thorne a hand to shake, which he took reluctantly. “I’ll go pick up your new lovebug, okay?”

“May I come with you? Please?” Cress employed the puppy dog eyes. They were about eighty percent effective on Thorne, and that was after he spent months working to resist them. The man stood no chance.

“Alright. Let’s go.”

“I can’t wait! Darling, hold my purse; I want to hold the precious kitty.”

The man herded Cress out of the room, leaving Thorne to sit quietly by himself.

Or so he thought.

When he was sure they were gone, the young man sprung into action. Inside Cress’s purse was a small package, hardly bigger than his hand. A homemade bomb she’d spent days researching. It was activated by a remote control, so it could be jostled as much as he desired and still wouldn’t explode.

It was important it was planted in the office. They would detonate it after hours, so no people would be injured, and it was far enough away to keep the animals unharmed. Their only goal was to make the place unusable, which would then force the animals to be relocated to other shelters where they’d hopefully receive better care.

Thorne moved quickly and efficiently, like he always did with his missions. There was a reason he was such a successful robber; he didn’t get distracted, and he always got the job done. After a minute of rifling around the room, he settle on hiding the bomb in a bookshelf on the far wall. This office’s wall was also an outside wall, so it was nowhere near another living soul. Perfect.

Five minutes later, the pair returned, Cress carrying a new cat carrier. “Here he is, darling! The newest member of the family!”

The goodbyes were quick after that. They made it to the petshop part, where they bought some food and the most important part: a cat leash. They walked out with their new charge, both of them pretending to ignore the front desk lady’s comment of “such of cute couple!”.

“Phase one, complete!” Cress said with a smile, still holding his hand. In the cage, the cat, Boots, seemed to give them almost a grateful look. Almost like he was saying thanks for getting me out of there.

Thorne gave a glance behind him, to the retreating animal shelter. “Phase two in t-minus eleven hours.”

Cress leaned against him as she walked. “Aye aye, captain.”

~~~~

Phase two of their master plan commenced, as said, eleven hours later. The duo spent the next several hours getting acquainted with their new cat, whom they hadn’t even intended on buying. As it turned out, Boots was a fantastic cat. Affectionate and sweet, he warmed up to both of them instantly. And he didn’t seem to mind the car either, one of the most important factors.

Later in the evening, they packed up. Their motel room was paid for another whole day, but that was just a countermeasure. They already had a secondary vehicle in waiting, and would abandon their current one in the motel parking lot. As always, they had everything planned down to the last detail.

Now for the big finale, and the most difficult part, too. Sneak close enough to detonate the bomb, then get away fast enough to not get injured in the blast and not caught up in the investigation.

The sneaking part was easy enough. They’d done that plenty of times. Sure, Thorne had to boost her over a few fences, and they had to do some real super-spy action in a tree to get over a sleeping dog’s head, but they made it without a hitch.

The concrete walls of the animals shelter loomed before them. They tracked around it once, scanning for anyone who could get in their way, and came up empty. Time for the moment of truth.

Cress and Thorne met up at the point, the spot Cress had calculated earlier to give them the best chance of success based on the bomb’s location.

She took a deep breath. Now or never.

Silently, Thorne’s hand laced with her own. Cress held the detonator out in front of her.

And she pressed it.

~~~~

Smoke. Smoke and fire. Smoke and fire and haze and blood and pain-

“Thorne-” Cress gasped, throat rasping, “Something went wrong!”

There was no answer.

Cress suddenly became aware that she was alone. She was lying in the dirt, still gripping the detonator. And Thorne wasn’t with her.

A massive section of the wall was complete dust. Fire and smoke billowed out, clearly originating from the point where the bomb must have been. A few stray papers fluttered about, before they were quickly seized by the flames.

“Thorne?” Her voice was quiet.

“Thorne!” Louder.

“THORNE!” Cress shoved herself up, testing each limb. Everything was in working order. Despite that, she knew something was wrong, so wrong.

The explosion shouldn’t have been that big. She calculated it over and over again, even explained the math to Thorne so he could do it himself. They both got the same answer.

This was not their answer. The fire was spreading quickly. Alarms went off inside, but the spray of water was doing little to quell it.

Nearly robotically, Cress pulled her burner phone from her pocket. She and Thorne had gotten them in case of emergency. They hadn’t expected to use it.

“911 what is your emergency?”

“There was an explosion at the animal shelter. There’s a huge fire. Hurry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Don’t let anyone get hurt. Please.”

She hung up before the operator could speak again. With all her might, she hurled the phone into the fire. By the time they found it, it would just be an unusable hunk of metal.

And then she ran.

All the scheming, all the plotting, all the plans went out the window. It was the dead of night, and Cress ran. She didn’t dare yell for Thorne; she had that much sense left. But with every step she felt it.

Something had gone horribly wrong, somehow. She must have forgotten something in her calculations. Maybe her information was wrong.

If both of them got out unscathed and unarrested, it would be a miracle, she knew it.

So lost in her own thoughts, she nearly ran face-first into someone who had stepped out onto the sidewalk. With a scream, Cress came to a screeching stop, standing and panting as she assessed the situation before her.

The woman was young, with dark hair and eyes and tan skin. And her hand… it was strange. A flash of recognition appeared in her eyes.

“Cinder…” Cress breathed. The other woman startled.

“Oh my God. It’s you.”

“I- it’s not what it looks like-” She followed Cinder’s gaze. Right to the detonator still in her hand.

“I swear, nobody was supposed to get hurt. I already called the fire department, if they get there in time they’ll save the animals-”

“Cress,” Cinder whispered, “Stop talking. Just go. If I see police I’ll cover for you. I promise.”

She stood still. Flabbergasted. “W-why would you do that?”

Cinder shrugged. “Because I know you’re a good person. Maybe you’ve got a convoluted way of showing it, but you’re good. Besides,” she cracked a tiny smile, “It’s thanks to you I might have a shot at my dreams.”

Then her voice took on a note of sudden seriousness. “Get out of here. The Farafrah police are no joke. Take the back alleys.”

Cress nodded numbly. “I will, I just have to find Thorne first.”

Cinder stepped closer, pulling her into a sudden hug. “Thank you. Both you and your dummy boyfriend.”

Cress found herself blushing, despite the situation. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

The other woman smirked. “He should be. He’s madly in love with you. He’d move the heavens and earth for you. Maybe consider telling him how you feel. Of course, after you’ve gotten out of here.”

“Right.” Cress chuckled. “Bye, Cinder. It was lovely meeting you.”

With that final goodbye, Cress began to sprint. Just as Cinder suggested, she took the back alleys. Thorne would be okay. He had to be. He’s okay. He has to be.

By the time she made it to the abandoned parking lot, the rendezvous point, police sirens had joined the firetrucks. The stolen red car… it was on! Idling in one place, waiting for her.

“Cress!” Thorne shouted, flinging the door open and throwing himself at her. He pulled her into his strong arms, pressing his face against her soot-stained hair. “God, I was so worried. I couldn’t see you in the dark so I headed back here. I was just about to go searching.”

Cress didn’t want to let go of him. Not now, not ever. But… “We’ve gotta go.”

“I know,” Thorne breathed, “But I was just so worried. It made me think… what if I lost you?”

She pulled back, just slightly, just enough to see his face in the dark. “What do you mean.”

“I mean, I started to think about you, Cress. How much I’d miss you. And how much I’d regret it if I lost you, and I hadn’t even done this…”

His voice trailed off, and Cress was about to ask what on earth he meant, when suddenly his lips were on hers.

Carswell Thorne is kissing me. Kissing. Me.

Her brain might have short-circuited, just a bit. But after a moment of frozen hesitation, she was kissing him back with just as much fervor, taking his face in her hands to pull them impossibly closer.

Thorne’s head tilted, and their lips fit together like they were always meant that way. His hands stroked at her golden hair, the hair he loved to much. What the hell; the girl he loved so much.

He might have told her as much when they finally came up for air, and she might have said it back. But all words were forgotten moments later, when they both spotted the flashing lights in their peripherals.

A police car, heading to the scene. If they were seen…

“Hey,” Cress whispered, beaming so wide her face hurt as she tugged on Thorne’s sleeve, “How about you be my getaway car for a change?”

“Yeah?”

She stood on her tiptoes, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Risky, in their situation. “Yeah.”

Thorne brought her hand, so small and delicate, to his lips. “For you, Cress, you know I’d do anything. Crime for the sake of crime. Crime for the sake of justice. Whatever it is, wherever life takes us, just know that you’ll always have me. I promise I’ll never let you feel alone, ever again.”

He stroked a stray tear from her face. “C’mon, Goldilocks. It’s time to make our grand exit.”

She made herself comfortable in the passenger seat, glancing where she knew the gun lay, tucked inside the glovebox, just for show, never loaded. The gun that saved her life.

Thorne tore out of the parking lot, speeding down the streets of the tiny town at three am, just begging to be chased as they passed the animal shelter. The fire was nearly out, animals being evacuated by the second.

She caught his gaze with her own. Blue on blue. “Police chase, huh?”

He smiled, gripping her hand in his own. “You know I like to show off.”

Sirens blared behind them. Cress’s grin grew. “Then let’s give them a show.”

Thorne leaned down and kissed her over the center console. “I thought you’d never ask.”

~~~~

a/n: Oh my gosh. I cannot believe I just wrote that. All that. I haven't written in a month and this felt fantastic!!! I hope y'all enjoyed! Reblogs and comments are so appreciated! <3

#mal's fics #the lunar chronicles #tlc #marissa meyer #cress darnel #carswell thorne #cresswell #cress x thorne #tlc au #tlc ship weeks 2021 #tlc ship weeks

[noodlecupcakeswritings]

An Unbreakable Bond - Chapter 5 (Kylo RenxOC)

Supreme Leader Kylo Ren now has everything he could possibly dream of, except for someone to rule by his side. And he’ll do anything to get Cora back.

The final fic in my Kylo/Cora Star Wars canon series. This is most definitely a TROS fix it fic because fuck that movie and shitty writing.

Please leave likes, comments and reblogs if you like it. If you want to be added to the taglist, please let me know.

Warnings: Language, Long chapter, No Kylo in this chapter, Mourning and grief, Angst and feels

Chapter 5

Cora

It was easy to sneak away in the dead of night from The Resistances camp. But what was surprisingly easy was getting to Onderon. Nobody would know I had left until the next day, and by then it would be too late to stop me from changing my mind. It had felt like a lifetime since I had last seen Varidun, when in reality it had been half a year. The images of him trapped in a First Order ‘medical wing’ still made me shudder. Hopefully, when I found him again, he would have his cybernetics back. Hopefully, I had the right place. I remember when I was a child Varidun had joked about ever needing a place to hide that Dxun was the place.

Thankfully, Onderon offered a shuttle to the surface of Dxun, although the planet itself unnerved me. The force energy was dark here. And the constant rain didn’t help make the planet look welcoming, nor did the sounds coming from the forests. Pulling up my hood to shield myself from the rain, I gripped my saber and stepped off the shuttle. The droid running the shuttle had mentioned a tall, older man who had lived here for a few months. The droid had also mentioned the man’s metal arm and one eye. It was good to know I was on the right track to finding Varidun.

An hour into my trek I had to use my lightsaber to light my path, although after walking a few more yards I saw a fire up ahead. Turning my saber off and clipping it back to my belt I continued forward until the trees cleared to reveal an entrance to what appeared to be ruins although what the building had previously been, I couldn’t tell. Upon further inspection, I found the black stone was carved with runes, but not Jedi runes. These were ancient Sith runes. And there sat under the shelter was Varidun. It felt odd to be filled with such dread at the location, yet hope at the man sat in front of me.

Varidun met my gaze, his expression unreadable. I suppose he wouldn’t be happy to see me, he probably just wanted to be left alone after everything he’d been through. He’d seemed to age more since I’d last seen him, his hair grey longer and covering the scars on the left side of his face where his cybernetic eye once was. He seemed in need of a shave and new clothes too. Now that I was face to face with him, I did not know what to say even after I’d had plenty of time to think about it.

“I know I’m probably one of the last people you want to see, but I need your help. You’re the only person I have left to turn too,” I finally broke the silence. Varidun turned his attention back to the fire, remaining silent instead of inviting me to sit with him. My heart sunk at his silence. Maybe I was too far gone now in his eyes. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I tried one last time. “Please, Varidun,” I fought to keep my voice steady. Without turning to look at me, he kicked a small box out for me to sit. Hesitantly, I approached, dropping my bag beside me.

The heat from the fire is welcomed after walking in the rain for almost two hours. Glancing at Varidun, I couldn’t help but notice he was acting even more like a grumpy old man compared to when we had met. Although the judgemental silence was bothering me. “There are a few things we should talk about, before this goes any further. I’m sure you have questions, as do I,” Varidun finally spoke. I nodded, feeling like a child about to be scolded for my poor actions. “I came here alone. Nor did I tell anyone where I was going,” I said, as if it’s supposed to make him feel better.

“I’m not worried if you were followed. This planet is rather suited for keeping the faint of heart away. Which leads to my first question. How did you make it through the jungle?” He asked. I couldn’t help but smirk softly at his question, feeling a little more at ease now around him. “I wasn’t given the teacher’s pet nickname for no reason. Besides, a lots changed since then.” “That much I know, I can sense the change within you,” he finally met my gaze, “but do not test the jungle here, Cora. It has killed far stronger than you.”

I sighed softly, understanding the warning, and whilst a few years ago I would have heeded that warning. Now it meant nothing to me, not after the multiple attempts on my life. “I’m sure it would be a much more painless death,” I replied. Nothing would match the pain I felt the day Snoke ripped Kendra away from me. None of the injuries from training matched it, being poisoned by Hux didn’t match it. That pain of losing my child would always be with me, as would the scar across my belly.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that...but let’s talk about something else. As I said, I’m sure you have questions for me,” Varidun quickly changed the subject. There were a lot of questions I had, but now was not the time to ask them. “Can you help me? With controlling my anger? I don’t know what to do anymore, but I know it would be wrong to just give into it,” I asked. “Why come to me instead of Luke?” My face dropped at the mention of Luke. The memory of how calm he had been during my outburst only angered me once more. If he had cared, he would have gone after me or said something.

“He decided to show his face at the wrong time. After years of being in hiding, he doesn’t get to decide when he wants to help again. He isn’t the hero I thought he was when I was a child,” I explained. “Luke Skywalker....was hiding?” Varidun asked in disbelief. “After the temple was destroyed, he ran to a planet where nobody would find him, abandoned his whole family and hid for years. It wasn’t until his daughter found him recently that he regained his balls to come out of hiding.”

Varidun fell silent again, staring into the crackling fire. He probably feels the same disappointment I had by Lukes cowardly actions. Luke had been important to Varidun too, taken Varidun in when he thought all hope was lost and there was no good left in the galaxy. “How did you escape?” I asked. “The Supremacy? How much do you already know?” “Snoke died and then you were in my head before I escaped,” I shrugged softly. “Alright, don’t get smart with me. I only asked because the only reason I was able to even break free when the ship took that large hit. Ren.” My brow furrowed as I looked at him in disbelief. It didn’t seem believable, Kylo had no reason to help him, not when Varidun had been so valuable to Snoke.

“Why? Why would he help you?” I asked. “I dont know why he did it, and I don’t really care either. But I wasn’t about to turn down a chance to break out of there. I had planned to cause as much chaos as I could and go from there, but when that ship launched itself into us, I felt a little out matched.” Nodding once, the conversation dipped again. The last thing I wanted to do is talk about or think about Kylo Ren. “So sleeping arrangements? I’m guessing you’ve got yourself a nice little makeshift bedroom and I’m taking the floor?” I asked. “Hmph, lucky for you I’d already guessed why you had come here, I figured it’d happen, eventually. There’s a spare bedroll in the corner, you can take it and sleep wherever your most comfy. Though I’d recommend not too close to the door.”

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

I awoke the same as every morning, with a start from the same nightmare, softly panting as my heart hammered against my chest. My skin felt clammy from a light sheen of sweat. Cautiously, I lifted the front of the bedroll and checked for blood. It was almost like a morning ritual now, whilst others woke up and might have breakfast and a shower, I would wake up from the same nightmare and check for blood. I knew I would never find any, but the nightmare was always so vivid, the pain always felt so real. Once calmer, I changed into clean clothes and headed to the entrance of the ruins to make a start on breakfast, although Varidun had beaten me to it.

Varidun was sitting at the fire by the entrance to the ruins. This time, however, suspended above the fire on a spit was a few pieces of meat. Wrapping my now dry cloak around me for extra warmth and a little comfort, I then sit by the fire. Hopefully, I didn’t look to sleep deprived and dishevelled that he’d ask questions. ‘Breakfast’ would at least be full of protein to keep my strength up. “I’ll take dinner duty seeing as you beat me at breakfast,” I spoke, offering him a soft smile. “That will depend if you are able to catch dinner,” he smirks. “I’ll do my best.” I replied, returning the smirk, “so what did you have in mind for training? Or is it a surprise?”

“That eager, are we?” “I just want to feel...in control of things again.” “And I trust you are aware that path is a long one” “I know. But I don’t care how long it takes, you know I’m willing to put the work in,” I nodded. Varidun stands and throws his cloak over himself, pulling up the hood as he walks to the door. “Eat your breakfast, you shall need all the strength you can muster for the coming days.” Eating quickly, I made sure not to leave a scrap of the meat. Once finished, I put the fire out and waited for Varidun to return by the entrance of the ruins. The rain seemed heavier, yet the sound of it hitting the trees and ruins did not dull the other noises of Duxn’s native beasts.

After waiting for a short while, Varidun returned from the jungle. Having now been thoroughly drenched by the rain, he once again took shelter next to me. “Let us speak plainly for a moment Cora, I offer to train you to become strong again, to know the ways of the force, and to hear the force sing within you stronger than it once did. I assume this is why you have come to me?” He asked. Narrowing my eyes in suspicion, I couldn’t help but feel this was an interrogation. But I knew better than to lie to him or tell him anything but the truth. “My anger has become a concern to myself and those around me. I want to learn how to bring it under control. Like you did,” I answered.

“And have you come here with any assumptions on how that shall be achieved?” “Not really, I tried meditating more, but that didn’t do much.” “Then that is where we shall start, follow me” Varidun headed out once again into the rain, taking the same path as before. After pulling my hood up, I followed behind him silently. My eyes darted around the surrounding forest, ready for anything. Eventually we came to a clearing, with a circle of large rocks in the centre. “Take a seat, Cora,” Varidun motioned to the rocks. Picking a more comfortable looking one, I crossed my legs and waited for further instructions.

“What is the force to you?” Varidun asked. Now that was a difficult question. One I’d never really thought about before, it had just been something that had always been there. Taking my time, I thought about my answer. It reminded me of the times back at the temple when Luke had been teaching me. I’d always been so desperate to please him and say something smart. Clearly nothing had changed. “An entity greater than myself and anything else in this galaxy, yet it seems to be a guide, a compass almost. Although sometimes I wish it would be clearer with its answers,” I answered. “Let’s narrow that down, what is a Jedi or a Sith?”

“They practice the light or dark ways of the force. A Sith is more in touch with their negative emotions and attachments than a Jedi.” “A simple way of putting it, yes, but also one that is leaning more towards one view over the other. Truth be told, they are both the same. And what are they without the force? Take the greatest Jedi knight, strip away the force, and what remains? They rely on it, depend on it, more than they know. Watch as one tries to hold a blaster, as they would a lightsaber, and you will see nothing more than a woman or a man. A child. The same goes for the Sith too.”

Listening to him intently, I realized I’d never really thought of it like that before, probably so deep into Lukes teachings to even consider it in that way. “That makes sense,” I replied. “Jedi and Sith rely on the force so much that they know no other way of life. So much so that a simplest of people could survive where we would not simply because they do not hear the Force as they we do. It is Irony of sorts. And that is among you first lessons. Learn to live without the Force. Once you can make your way without its presence, you will find you can survive much more,” Varidun continued.

My brow furrowed. This isn’t what I had expected from training, but I wasn’t about to question his methods and have him stop when I desperately needed help and guidance. “Okay. I can do that. I mean, I’ve done it before for the first few years after the temple was destroyed,” I said. “Explain?” “After Ben turned, it was best for me to cut off from using the force so he couldn’t find me or the resistance through our bond.”

“Hmm, it will do. Hiding one’s self from others who can sense them through the force isn’t exactly like being cut off from it. Understand this, Dxun is not a friendly place to those who only see the force in one way, and while I know you wouldn’t go wandering anywhere…” Varidun’s tone changed as if here a parent warning a child, “there are many places here that are better left alone. Do you understand?” “I understand.”

The planet had a reputation for its native beasts and ties to the Sith. Wandering off into unknown territory would not be a good idea. “I hope you do; this planet will test you, Cora. In more effective ways than I could. That is why I make it vital you understand how to block out those you do not want inside. I’m sure by now you have already built a strong defence against Ren, but those that rest here are far stronger in such techniques than even Snoke himself. It is part of the reason I have been able to remain hidden here. Should someone attempt to focus on this place and reach one individual, they would be met with a choir of minds, effectively hiding the one they seek from sight,” Varidun warned. I nodded again to reassure him, “okay. No wondering off, no listening to random voices.”

“Good. Now, when you meditate, what do you think of?” “I don’t think of anything. I clear my mind and focus on the feeling of the force flowing through me and around me.” “A standard Jedi use for it. Keep in mind though, meditation can be used not just to clear your mind and feel the force, it can be used as a time of reflection. To look back on events you have witnessed and be a part of, now a Jedi would use that to move on from those events. But if you wish to master your anger, you must learn to not only accept them but use them as a source for your hatred.”

That was not what I had expected to hear, and it concerned me. It went against everything I had been taught. “I don’t understand. I came here so you could help me control it. Not use it to my advantage,” I spoke, unease clear in my voice. “They are the same. When you can learn to control your anger, no matter its source in the heat of conflict, you can control it anywhere.” “If I can control it, does that mean the pain will stop?” Varidun pauses for a minute, unable to quite meet my gaze, “I cannot promise that”

Silence fell between us again. I was unsure if I wanted to go ahead with this. The pain was already unbearable. Even thinking about what could have been brought tears to my eyes and filled my chest with a familiar emptiness. The nightmares weren’t going to let up anytime soon. But what more did I have to lose? “Okay, we’ll try your method, “ I reluctantly gave in. “Remember, the choice is you’re to hold on to the memories, I can show you to focus them, channel them, and use them, but the choice will always be yours to let go of them.” It feels wrong to let go of them when they were all I had left of Kendra. Kylo had not allowed a service, burial, or cremation. Not even a keepsake to remember her. Only the pain and the scar across my stomach. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I nodded softly, looking down at my lap.

“I felt it too, you know...that day, I recognize the feelings within you now, not the same as when it happened, but the roots are the same,” Varidun said solemnly. My gaze met his once more, as I was stunned by his words. The lump in my throat had grown that I knew the moment I tried to speak I’d start crying. “I...I...” I trailed off, unable to finish my sentence without my voice wavering. “Close your eyes, Cora, focus on the thoughts. Dont run from them, let them flow. Just as you would the force when meditating”

Unable to hold back the tears any longer, I shook my head, unable to continue. Standing up, I was ready to head back to the ruins and accept Varidun’s disappointment. “I can’t, I’m sorry,” my bottom lip trembled as I forced the words out. “You think you’ll get past these feelings by walking away from them?” “You think a little meditation is going to work?” I snapped, turning to glare at him, “I lost a child, Varidun! I felt my baby being murdered inside my womb and I thought I was going to die with her!” My voice raised with every sentence. “And how long do you plan to let that anger fester inside of you? Until you lose control and hurt someone you care about?” Varidun remained calm.

“Why do you think I came here in the first place?! The Resistance think I’ll turn on them at any moment, Leia thinks I failed her!” “Lady Organa thinks that? Or you do?” “What does it matter?! The point is, I wasn’t good enough to bring Ben home, and neither was our baby!” I yelled, finally admitting the truth out loud. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I let out a loud sob, allowing myself to break down. Varidun sighed but didn’t move to offer comfort, “you have to accept that he may never return. And that isn’t because you failed, it isn’t because you weren’t good enough. He may be too far under Snokes influence by now.”

“I know that now. It’s part of the reason I left. More so when he took away killing Snoke from me,” I said through my tears. “You think you could have killed Snoke? The one who manipulated Ren into the trap he’s now in? The one who kept me bound for so long? He would have killed you without hesitation. Assuming he didn’t make Ren do it.” “He murdered my daughter! Do you think I cared at that point that I was outmatched? He deserved to die!” “He deserved to die for much, but what would throwing your own life away for an attempt at revenge achieve?”

Meeting his gaze, I gave a soft shrug, “nothing. Not that I cared if I died in the process.” “You’re willing to throw away your life so quickly? You’re not a princess who’s lived a life of luxury, Cora. You don’t break when things get hard.” “What would you know?! You’ve never lost a child! She was my chance at finally having a family and she was taken from me like the last one!” “My family was taken from me when I was a child like you, but no, I wasn’t the one who lost a child or a family.” Varidun pauses, “I was the one who took them from others.”

“Then why did you try to help that night? Why did you stay and try to lead some of the padawans to safety?” I asked matter-of-factly. “Because just like you, I had found a place to call home. Somewhere I didn’t have to hide who I was anymore.” My shoulders slumped as I dropped the defensive attitude. I knew we were in the same boat, both taken in by Luke Skywalker where we had found a new family before it was ripped away from us and then our hero had run away and hidden.

He didn’t deserve my wrath, and that’s not why I had come here. He had only been trying to help, even if it was a more unconventional method. “Lunch break? And then we can get back to training?” I asked, apologetically. “I think lunch would be a good idea.”

Taglist: @reverieness​​​​​​, @sweetsec-93​​​​​​, @cltex84​​​​​​, @jana-banana-fana​​​​​​, @neeharlow​

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[taking-over-his-life]

Munich Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I had a constant stream of friends and family visit me over the summer, as I tried to pretend that Gunter was in this body, fuck how I enjoyed that. Old boyfriends, shags mates, I played the part well and soon fell into my new life naturally.

I was the son of a rich family, living on an allowance so I didn’t work, and didn't need too, this suited me down to the ground as the sex was just intoxicating, and it was my true drug.

I had been building my body up so the muscles were starting to show and the idea of showing them off turned me on. Bear chested with a leather waistcoat, that was my dress until the rains came. In the clubs and bars I attracted attention, and enjoyed every minute.

One night I had been out clubbing and was walking home. I was out of my mind on speed and drink.

I decided to walk down a tow path near the canal. It was dark, very dark, but in that state I didn’t care. It smelt of dampness and plant life, the dew was on each leaf and stalk.

As I walked in there were the normal tramps sleeping on the benches, I was looking for some hot leather man. I walked right through, about half a mile there was no one there, ‘FUCK’ I said as I headed back.

‘FUCK ‘came a voice from the darkness, ‘please!’ I looked and could see no one, but the voice came from a clump of bushes, so in I went. Stupid fool I would regret this.

I peered into the darkness and a guy got hold of me, ‘You horny fucker, give me your arse’. He started to loosen my chaps, ‘FUCK OFF’ I said, I couldn’t see him , and he was moving too quick. I turned round and started to walk away. An arm came round my neck and pulled me back in. ‘YOUR MINE FAGGOT!!,’ I started to shout, but he forced something into my mouth, it was so filthy and stunk so bad, ‘SHUT THE FUCK UP ’ he said. I was on the ground in seconds, He put his hands in my pockets and took my wallet and money, ‘nice, I need some cash' he said.  He went through my wallet, and took a letter, ‘this is where you live homo, is it?’ At this he violently kicked me in the stomach. I doubled up in pain, another followed, ‘answer me’ he said threateningy.

‘Yessss,’ I said in pain, my eyes were getting accustomed to him, I saw him, muscled, but a tramp, so filthy the dirt was so bedded into him it looked like leather.

‘Take me there,’ he said as  he stood me up and made me walk in front. No one was out it was 4am.

We arrived at the flat he took the keys and opened it, ‘anyone else in, ‘I looked at him and did not answer, ‘If they are they are dead’ he snarled.

He pushed me in and opened each door. When he was satisfied he pushed me into the bedroom.

Nice place faggot, give it to me, I need a base, maybe take your place. I bet I could be a mincing queen.

I was so terrified. He turned the light on, and I saw him properly for the first time. he was attractive, same shape and look and colouring as me. He could be my brother. He was wearing filthy hiviz over old combat trousers, they were so filthy that they were black in places and were shiny, his boots were worn the leather cracking, they were laced , he just stunk to high heavens.

He started to search and found my cache of chems, wow some supply, we are in for a hot night faggot.

He walked over to me and forced me to take 3 pills, FUCK I thought that’s too much, it wasn’t long before I started to drift.

He lifted a chair and put me on it in the bathroom.

He started to strip, Hi vis jacket hoody, both so filthy and stinking, and threw them at me, ‘your new clothes man’ he said, then the combats, and some filthy piss stained long johns under them and the shoes,.

He was so stinking and dirty. ‘You like faggot eh?’ I did, it was getting me hard and he could see.

He went over to the sink and started to shave, he had a large beard but using my clippers, he soon had stubble and a Mexican moustache.

Now he started to shave his head. When he finished, he washed his face. ‘What do you think queer boi’ he said, FUCK, he looked just like me, He got close to me and started to kiss me, as he did, he fiddled with my ears. As he drew back I could see he had taken my rings and he was positioning them on his ears, ‘There we go’, he said, now he took out my nose ring, and put it in his. ‘Don’t I look the fucking part homo.’ he said as he laughed at me.

My nips had the rings taken then my cock. He was in ecstasy as he said, ‘Fuck these feel so great on me. It will be your clothes next tramp boy’

Next he was in the shower, I tried to stand up but couldn’t and fell, straight onto the pile of his clothes, they stunk but were very horny and I was so out of it on chems, they turned me on. he looked out, ‘don’t try to escape MR I need your clothes, and your identity, Your going to enjoy being a lousy tramp Mr.’ he said smiling.

I was terrified, he was going to take my place, what would he do with me.

He stepped out and dried off.

His dick was hard, now I need your clothes to finish it off.

He lifted my leg and started to pull of my boots, then my socks, my breeches left me next then my jock. He got down and took my cock strap, and then in seconds it was all on him

The more he dressed the more he looked like me. My rings arm bands chain, shirt jacket

The lot

The transfer was complete.

‘Well Mr what do u think?’ He was identical. ‘What the fuck are you going to do, your not me, I am! ‘ I said he responded ‘You are now a loser Mr, I the fucking gay boi now, your life is now mine, nobody will know the difference. Im looking forward to living here, in your gear, with your money and lifestyle. Bet id be a great gay shag eh?’

He then started to dress me in the filthy stinking gear he had worn,

He put me on my back and started to pull the long johns on my legs, they were yellow with age and so filthy huge stains on the arse and dick, they smelt so ripe, it was sickening. He pulled them so far up, they caressed my dick and balls. Real man stink, I was getting hard

I couldn't resist. Then the old combats, they fitted me perfectly, he fastened them, and zipped in my dick, old socks so ripe they were slimy on my feet, holes all over, then his boots. He laced them up. ‘You look good MR’ he said

He stood me up and pulled an old T shirt over my head it was so filthy, and stink of BO and beer

Then the hoody top and the old stinking leather jacket and hi vis.

‘Look’ he said as he stood me in front of the mirror, ‘what do u think what a transformation’. ‘Fuck I'm going to enjoy it here, and you will really like the canal,’ My dick was ridged and seeping, I was so horny, and he could see it, the filthy smell and feel of his gear was turning me on. See ‘you want it boi, be a real man, and ill be the faggot. You can have my history in the army memories of my wife and kids, ill be a filthy worthless rich cunt now giving my arse to the biggest dick. Got to act limp and camp, maybe the change will make you a man,’ he laughed and laughed, he started to feel his arse in my jeans, he enjoyed the leather. ‘Feeling his chest and enjoying every minute. I could see the leather was interacting with him, giving him my sensations and feelings, he was really taking my place. He strutted the room and checked himself in the mirror, each time the leather got tighter shaping itself to him.

He pulled me over to the sink and cut my moustache and rubbed some dirt off his boots and into my skin on my face, ‘dirty fucking tramp, loser.’ he whispered

‘Nooo, please your not me ‘I said slurring my words. ‘Only you and I will know that’ he said ‘Take a drink he said and he forced whisky into me 'I was out of it. I could see and hear but had no control.

He got a house plant and forced my fingers in the soil and rubbed the dirt in my hands so I looked the part. He lay me on the floor and pissed all over me, then he lifted me up, I was helpless. He lay me over the sink and started to push his huge dick deep inside me. There was nothing I could do. I enjoyed the feeling so much, I came twice adding to the filth in the long jonhs, then I pissed myself, He pulled at my shoulders as he lunged into me, ‘í want to be you, gunter, Im the faggot now, I want to live your life, Your Nathan, enjoy your new life' he started to cum wads deep inside of me.

I lay on the floor watching him, he was exactly like me, fuck he couldn’t pull it off surely. I'm no tramp. I watching as he got used to my flat and gear, my food, sitting at the table, eating from my plates, wearing my gear, Then phoning on my phone, as he sat down the leather gear moulded to his shape, ‘it s good to be gay ‘he said, laughing at me. He lit up a joint and sat with his boots on my stomach, or rather my boots. He was reading my papers memorising things about me, reading my letters finding out about my family, ‘gunter hammerstaed, that’s me, true fucking German.’he said, looking at me.  He repeated my birthdate place of birth etc, things about my family. ‘I'm you now Gunter, I'm you, I'm the faggot boi, me a rich little cuntboi. And you’re the tramp’. he laughed

Suddenly there was a knock at the door. 

He opened it. It was Peter, ‘Hi Gunter’ he said, and kissed him, he responded. In he came, I tried to speak, peter help, he kicked me hard, ‘who the fuck is he’, said Peter, some old tramp I took pity on’ he replied.

‘Fuck you’re a brave man letting him in here.’ said Peter.  I tried to get peters attention, but it wasn’t too long before he was on top of the impersonator and in bed, after hours of fucking peter didn't notice any difference and believed it was me. What was I going to do. Before he left Gunter said, ‘give me a hand getting him back to the canal.’ 

Peter and him took an arm each and walked me over to the canal It was dark and damp and smelled, of the vegetation around, I tried to speak but couldn’t, Peter said ‘he fucking stinks, maybe we should just fuck him and let him float away in the canal better ending for him’. and he found the spot where we met, there was some cardboard and a few possessions, he lay me down, and whispered, ‘enjoy it, this is you now.’

They both walked away.

It was mid day and I woke up, I was still well gone but could walk, I was going to have that bastard. As I walked towards the flat, there he was with peter in a street café, wearing my levis chaps high boots waistcoat, and cap. My piercing in his ear shone in the sunlight and it caught the silver ring in his nose, his nips stood out with my rings in the and my thick silver chain lay round his neck. 

He was wearing al my rings one on each finger, fuck I looked great I thought, that’s my image and I'm having it back, Petr will help me. Fuck he looked great, but that was my life and I was going to have it back. I went up to the table, and got hold of him, ‘your cunt’ I shouted and pushed at him, Peter jumped up and grabbed me by the shoulders and spun me throwing me into the road, ‘FUCK OFF YOU FILTHY CUNT ‘he said. He looked at the impersonator, ‘see I said you shouldn’t help.’ @ Peter its me ‘ I said, but my voice was still slurred.

‘Go away boi,’ he said to me ‘or ill call the police’, ‘call them’ I said, and they did.

Within minutes they were there, and they explained I had attached him. Peter witnessed it as did others, the police held me and I explained my story, they looked at each other, ‘careful, he has a knife’ shouted the impersonator, ‘where’ said the policemen, ‘he put it in his leg pocket’ he said. The pushed me on the front of the car and searched me, yes it was there, and they found crystal meth, enough to deal, ‘Your coming with us' they said, I was in shock lost didn't know how to react

‘No I screamed, he has stolen my life I'm Gunter hammerstead, not him’, he and peter laughed, ‘too many chems they said’ to the police. I was cuffed and bundled into the back of the car. Then it struck me this nightmare was real

In the car I tried to tell the cops but they ignored me, ‘fucking shut up you dirty filthy tramp’ they said.

I got to the station, and they searched me. He had a passport on him, Nathan johns, he was exactly like me and me him. I was a Canadian. They took my fingerprints and picture and his name went on the record. Fuck now my fingerprints matched his identity , nooooo.

In the morning I was thrown out. So back to the canal I went, then to my flat. The clothes stuck too me, and the smell was riveting, he opened the door,'FUCK’, he cried and pulled me in.

‘You cunt go away, I don’t want you here Nathan. This is my house my life, ive taken it from you, I'm Gunther now’ he said , ‘NO!’ I shouted, he threw me against a wall he was strong, and it winded me. The next minute he was on top of me,’ like your new name Nathan?’ He said, ‘like your filthy clothes and your new life, Canadian boi’,he sneered. I struggled but couldn’t move. ‘Now I am you cunt, understand it, or ill wipe you out,’ he showed me a syringe, I struggled and he jabbed me in the arm, . ‘next time cunt Ill overdose you., and they will find you in the canal, and who the fuck will care about a tramp.’he said

‘I need you passwords and bank codes, faggot, so spill the beans, give them to me’. I passed out.

When I woke up I was tied down and gagged. He was sitting at the far side of the room, napping. He looked unbelievable, it was me, tight leather jeans with a white stripe, fitted him to perfection showing every curve, the highly polished boots,, on his feet, the waistcoat, tatts on his arms identical to mine, his tan, piercings, the muircap, he was an exact replica of who I used to be.

I struggled, and he woke, ‘Keep still Nathan, ’he said  'm not Nathan, I'm Gunter, ’I shouted.  Suddenly he delivered a huge blow to my face,’ NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN. You are Nathan’ he screamed.

I started to speak and he forced my mouth open and forced some drugs in. ‘Your with me now till you’re a full time druggy Nat’. and he started to laugh, I was tripping and couldn’t stop myself

.Hours went by, I woke up, he was there , ‘who are you’ he said ‘gunter’ I replied. he punched me so violently, and more drugs were forced.

Again, ‘who are you' he said. I looked into his eyes so angry so evil,  I hesitated, he looked at me, with pure evil. ‘I'm I'm I'm Nathan’ I said with tears rolling down my face., ‘Good he said, who am I' ‘Gunter I said

‘Excellent boi’ he said , he questioned me on my family and I told him everything he wrote it down then bank accounts the lot, he had my history my money my gear my house my looks, he was me. 

And me, well Nathan is my name now, I'm a tramp in Munich.

#body switch #bodyswap #male body swap #male possession #straight to gay

[alex51324]

Thomas and the Island of the Gays, rough draft, first section

Several people have mentioned how excited they are for this, and honestly I could use a dopamine hit, so I thought I’d try something I haven’t done for a while and post what I have so far.  (Way back in the days of LJ, I used to call this “Is this anything?”)

For those who didn’t see the previous post, this is an AU where Thomas ends up in a very unusual treatment program for his homosexuality.  Will eventually include just about every gay OC from every Thomas story I’ve ever written. Thomas/Happiness (slow burn).

Content notes: The first part of this is a bit dark, because Thomas was in a much less fun “treatment” program before the one that the story is really about.  Also, this whole section is pretty much exposition and worldbuilding porn.  

Content warnings:  conversion therapy, mention of suicide, period-typical homophobia, brief period-typical racism.  

And I hope to God my Readmore works, because otherwise this is gonna kill people’s dashes.  

Thomas stood blinking in the bright light.  Bright to his eyes, anyway—he hadn’t stepped foot outside The Clinic for…God, how long had it been?  Hadn’t worn his own clothes, either; it felt strange to be wearing shoes with laces in them.

They watched you when you shaved, too, and counted the razors after you were done.  One bloke had managed it anyway—bedsheet twisted into a rope and looped around a doorknob.  That had to take some balls.  Thomas knew he couldn’t have managed it.  Maybe if he’d had a chance, after they told him he was going…wherever it was he was going.

“—Tanner, and that one’s Barrow,” the guard—orderly—was saying.  “You want to watch out for that one.  Took a swing at me mate earlier this morning.”

“Goodness,” said a more educated voice.  Doctor…L, something.  He’d been to examine Thomas, and a couple of the others, some time ago.  If Thomas had known what it was about, he’d have lied more. Doctor L. went on talking, something about not giving any further trouble.  It ended with a, “Will you, Mr. Barrow?”

Thomas hadn’t been paying enough attention to tell whether the question warranted a “yes” or a “no,” so he just said, “Sir.”

A few more remarks, and a quantity of paperwork, passed between Dr. L. and the Clinic man, and then Thomas and Tanner were herded into a waiting motor-taxi, the guard getting into the front with the driver.  There was another gentleman in there, but none of the rough sorts that The Clinic employed as orderlies.  Bit strange, that, when they were transporting two such dangerous incurables.

Doctor L. introduced the other gentleman as Doctor something-or-other, but Thomas didn’t catch it. As the cab lurched into motion, Dr. L. began questioning Tanner about his history before The Clinic.  Thomas had, deliberately, taken as little notice as possible of his fellow inmate-patients, but he had a vague idea that Tanner had been talkative, at first—and he’d apparently learned nothing from his stay at The Clinic, because it took very little prompting to get him chattering like a magpie.  

He went on until they fetched up at a railway station—Thomas didn’t notice which one—and were herded through the sparse midmorning crowd to a second-class compartment.  The guard took the seat nearest the door, then the two gentlemen, and their charges next to the windows.  Worn out from the short walk, Thomas let his head slump against the glass.

The respite didn’t last long.  Dr. L. started talking again, and Thomas belatedly realized he should have summoned up the wherewithal to pay attention, when whatever he’d been saying finished up with a, “Mr. Barrow?”

Thomas glanced over at Tanner, hoping for some sort of hint as to what he was expected to say, but none was forthcoming.  “Sir?” he essayed.

“You were employed as a valet, prior to your time at The Clinic?” Dr. L. repeated, peering at Thomas over his spectacles.

Oh.  “Yes, sir.”

“And before that, a footman, and RAMC in the war,” he went on, consulting a document folder that was open on his lap.  “We’ll be spoilt for choice, when it comes to finding a place for you.”  

Was that sarcasm?  It had to be.  Thomas attempted to take umbrage, but gave it up as too much work. “Sir,” he said flatly.  

“Once you’ve settled in, of course,” the other doctor added quickly.  “Where were you stationed?”

That one, Thomas had to think about, the place-names hovering just out of his grasp.  Finally, he said, “France.  Sir.”  

“Hospital work, or in trenches?”

Thomas knew that one. “Yes, sir.”

The second doctor shot a sideways glance at Dr. R, and Thomas realized that his answer hadn’t precisely been enlightening.  “Bit of both.”  There was more to it than that—hospital work first, then his time at the Front, then hospital again, back in England.  But explaining seemed like too much effort.  

Another sideways look at Dr. L., this one more obvious, and the other doctor asked in an undertone, “Is he drugged?”

Thomas said, “Yes, sir,” at the same time that Dr. L. said, “He shouldn’t be.”

There was a longish stretch of silence, and Tanner chipped in, “It was after he hit that orderly.”  

Thomas could have done without everybody being reminded of that, but at least they pretty much left him alone, after that.  Dr. L. spoke at some length to the guard, and when he’d finished with that,  Tanner went on talking nineteen to the dozen, but Thomas just drifted, settling back against the window and letting the scenery pass in front of his eyes.  

He’d only had the sedative, this time, so it wasn’t unpleasant.  He was vaguely aware that, by not listening to anything the two doctors were saying, he was missing a lot of valuable information about where he was headed—but he couldn’t quite manage to care.

He’d been full of plans on his way to The Clinic.  Them at Downton had arranged for him to be sent.  After that disastrous midnight kiss, Jimmy had wanted him sacked without a reference, but somebody—Thomas still wasn’t sure who—had heard of a place that claimed to be able to fix men like him.  Thomas knew it had to be nonsense, but with the offer of a decent character after, had agreed to take the cure, figuring that he could always pretend it had worked.  

The brief spell of unemployment while he’d received medical treatment of an unspecified nature would take some explaining, he had thought, but if he alluded to the war, no one would ask many questions—a case of shell-shock was considerably more respectable than the truth, but still not something anyone wanted to discuss at a job interview.  

But, like so many of Thomas’s plans, it hadn’t turned out that way.   If he’d known what he was getting himself in for, he’d have taken sacking-without-a-reference like a shot.  Not only was the “treatment” more horrific than he could have possibly imagined—the vast majority of the men subjected to it were there as a condition of release from prison—but they had an utterly indecent apparatus for determining whether or not it was working.

Which, of course, it hadn’t. And if that was how they treated you when they still had some hope for you…well, Thomas really didn’t want to know what they did with the incurable cases.  

He was, unfortunately, going to find out.  

The journey lasted…well, Thomas wasn’t sure, but at one point sandwiches appeared.  Thomas looked at his with undisguised loathing, and the orderly made a few threatening moves in his direction, but Dr. L. said something to him, and he subsided without actually making Thomas eat it.  

They wound up somewhere near the sea, and it wasn’t until he’d been herded onto some sort of boat or ferry that Thomas realized they’d left the orderly behind at the railway station. There might have been a chance to escape, somewhere in there, but if there was, Thomas had missed it.  

Decking that guard had probably been a mistake.  

Boarding the boat, Thomas had a vague impression of fairly substantial size, and thought idly of, perhaps, separating himself from his keepers in a crowd, but they four appeared to be the only passengers.  The two doctors showed him and Tanner into a place like a waiting room at a very small railway station, with hanging lamps and wooden benches, and passed around tea and biscuits.

The tea was welcome, and the biscuit marginally less unappealing than the sandwiches earlier, so Thomas nibbled at it experimentally.  His stomach lurched, and nobody said anything when he abandoned it on the saucer.  

Thomas attempted, and nearly managed, to maintain some awareness of his surroundings, but the only even halfway useful thing he learned was that the journey was a short one. That might have been worth knowing, in terms of escape plans, if Thomas had the slightest idea of how to operate a boat, but he didn’t.  

The boat fetched up at a small, rocky island with a tiny village clinging to one side of it, and they disembarked onto a quay, or wharf, or whatever you called it, where were gathered a dozen or so men, and a couple of carts with ponies hitched to them.   Everyone, apart from the ponies, eyed Thomas and Tanner with evident curiosity.  Thomas wondered just how much they knew about the purpose of the sanitarium. If it was of any size at all, it had to employ at least half the village, so how much of a secret could it be?

Most of the men began unloading cargo from the boat, but Dr. L. gestured to one of them, who trotted over.   “These the new arrivals?”

Dr. L. nodded.  “Sylvester Tanner, and Thomas Barrow,” he said, indicating them.  “Gentlemen, Theo will show you up to the main house and get you settled in.”

Theo was medium-sized and inoffensive-looking.  Thomas probably could have taken him—but what would be the point?  Theo said something Thomas didn’t catch, to which Tanner replied brightly—flirtatiously, even –“I’m sure we’ll be in good hands.”

Any of the orderlies at The Clinic would have smacked him, but Theo just smiled, and Dr. L. said, “Indeed.”  To the one called Theo, he added, “You can give Mr. Tanner the grand tour, but Mr. Barrow has been sedated, so there won’t be much point showing him anything but the essentials.  Bring him to my office tomorrow at eleven.  He’s excused from everything until then, but do try to get him to eat something.”  

Apparently he’d noticed about the biscuit, after all.  

Theo led them through the village.  Thomas noted a pub and a tobacconist, not that either was likely to do him much good, before becoming too weary to bother seeing things.  Of the sanitarium itself, he had only a vague impression of a stone pile. Up a staircase, down a corridor, and they wound up in a sort of ward, unoccupied at this time of day.  Theo pointed him at one of the cots, and Thomas collapsed onto it and fell promptly and deeply asleep.

He had the sort of vivid and incoherent dreams that you got when you’d been drugged insensible, and woke with a head full of disjointed and rapidly-fading images, a tongue that felt like shoe leather in his mouth, and a chatter of overlapping voices.

The rest of the ward’s inmates were back now, a half-dozen or so of them, and they all seemed to be talking at once, as they shaved or changed their shirts or combed their hair. It reminded Thomas a bit of a barracks in the war, and not at all of The Clinic, where making any kind of sound was more or less inviting the orderlies to come and shut you up.  

“He wakes!” said a familiarly irritating voice.  Tanner, and he must’ve changed his clothes since getting here; Thomas couldn’t imagine The Clinic letting him out on the street in a tie like that.  It almost looked like a ladies silk scarf.  

“You feeling all right?” asked Theo.  

Thomas sort of grunted, and Theo pointed him at the W.C.  After splashing some cold water on his face, Thomas felt marginally more human. He emerged from that sanctuary to find that much of the crowd had departed, leaving Theo, Tanner, and a couple of others.  “We’re just going down to dinner, if you feel up to it,” Theo told him.  “I’d have told the rest of that lot to keep it down a bit, except I was halfway thinking I ought to wake you up for it anyway.”  

He must, Thomas thought, be a patient, some sort of trustee, rather than an employee.  The Clinic had had a few of those, and as a rule, they’d been worse than the orderlies, but this Theo didn’t seem to have put much of a damper on Tanner.  As they started back down the stairs, Thomas essayed a question.  “What do they do to you here, if you don’t eat?”

Stopping halfway down the staircase, Theo glanced over his shoulder and up at Thomas.  “Nothing much,” he said, with a hint of pity that made Thomas want to kick him.  “Did they give you a treatment before you left that place this morning?”

“No,” Thomas said.  

Theo continued walking. “Sometimes it takes a bit for your appetite to come back,” he said.  “But the food here’s not bad, usually.”

Thomas was dubious about that—the slop they shoved at you at The Clinic was barely edible even if you weren’t heaving your guts up two or three times a day.  But the dining room that Theo led them to had, if anything, even less in common with The Clinic than the ward had.  It looked more like the dining room of an hotel that had come down in the world a bit—wainscoting, chipped; lamps, numerous but sooty and tarnished; tablecloths, white linen, but stained and mended in places.  There were about half a dozen tables, each seating six or eight.  It was about as loud as an Army mess of comparable size, but without the shoving and swearing.

He, Tanner, and Theo sat at a table with four others.  Theo introduced them, but Thomas didn’t catch the names.  One of them asked him something, and he blinked stupidly.  

“Thomas had a bit of a rough morning,” Theo said delicately.  “I’m not sure he’s feeling quite himself yet.”

The others all made sympathetic noises, and before long, another bloke arrived, carrying a large, heavily-laden tray.  The ones nearest him helped unload it, and then the newcomer sat in their table’s remaining chair.  

That, too, reminded him a bit of the Army.  The mess tins held enough for six, and usually one man was dispatched to queue up for it.  But, as Theo had intimated, the food looked to be quite a bit better than Army rations, with meat that had clearly never seen the inside of a tin, roasted potatoes that were still crisp, and fresh bread.  The dishes were passed around the table, and as each one came to him, Thomas warily helped himself to a few bites’ worth of everything.  

He didn’t do much more than pick at it, but no one seemed to take any notice.  There was a great deal of conversation, mostly about people Thomas didn’t know.  From various bits and pieces, he gradually gathered that several of the men were, in fact, employed in the village, so perhaps Dr. L. hadn’t entirely been taking the piss—though it was difficult to imagine anyone in such a remote place needing a valet, much less one who was an incurable homosexual.  

When the dishes were cleared, the bloke sitting next to Thomas offered him a cigarette, which Thomas was happy to accept.  He lit it for Thomas, too, which caused him to raise a mental eyebrow, but was perhaps just as well—Thomas didn’t have the faintest idea what had happened to his lighter. “Thanks,” he said, and groped for the man’s name.  

“Richard,” he supplied, adding, “This place is…a lot to take in.”

“You said it,” Thomas muttered.

“I’d invite you to come find me if you need a native guide, but we’re not allowed in each others’ rooms. For obvious reasons.”

“No,” Thomas agreed. He didn’t suppose they would be.  

“You’ll be all right, once your head stops spinning,” Richard added.  

“Yeah?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah,” Richard said, with a warm smile.  

Worn out from the exertion of dinner, Thomas slept fairly well…at first.  Somewhere in the small hours, he woke again, jittery and ill at ease. At The Clinic, they didn’t want you getting out of bed until they told you do, but no one stopped him, when he ventured to the W.C. for another restorative splash of cold water. Emboldened by this success, he stood for a while at a window—open, and unbarred—wishing he had a cigarette.  

He thought he might be in for it when Theo, who slept in the ward with them, stirred, but he only said, in a whisper, “You all right, Barrow?”

“Yes,” he whispered back. “Just—awake.”

Theo made a sleepy sort of sound, and fumbled in the bedside table, producing a watch, which he peered at in the moonlight.  “It’ll be at least three hours before anyone’s up,” he said, with a yawn.  “But if you’re still up then, I’ll show you around before breakfast.”  

It was very difficult to tell, Thomas reflected, whether that was meant as a treat or a threat, but whatever it was, he was still up some hours later, when the watery light of dawn crept through the curtains.  He gradually realized that the large shape at the foot of his bunk was, in fact, the trunk he’d packed with all his things before going to The Clinic, and hadn’t seen since.  He was itching to check if any of his things had been pinched, but stayed where he was, feigning sleep as a man came into the ward and shook one of the others awake.

The other man had a rummage through his own trunk, suggesting that this was an authorized morning activity, so once he had dressed and gone, Thomas sat up slowly and eased open the clasps on his.  

On top was his overcoat, under that his good suit, and hidden away at the very bottom were the dozen packs of cigarettes he’d laid in for his “treatment.”  They might be pretty stale now, but infinitely better than nothing.  He stuck one pack in the pocket of his pyjamas, and two more under the mattress, in case his trunk disappeared again.

The latter, while a sensible precaution, had the unintended side effect of waking up Theo, who glared at him balefully for a moment before grabbing a sponge bag and stumbling off toward the W.C.

He emerged a few minutes later, freshly shaven and looking marginally more awake.  He caught Thomas’s eye and tilted his head in the direction where he’d been, and mouthed, “All yours.”

So Thomas collected his own things from his trunk, and enjoyed his first unsupervised shave (et cetera) in some months.  His face in the mirror was pale and haggard, but when he’d emerged, dressed, and met Theo in the corridor, Theo said, “You look a bit less ghastly than you did last night.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said, dryly.  

“I meant, I hope you feel less ghastly.”

“I suppose,” Thomas admitted.

“Good,” Theo said, and launched into the tour.  The ward they’d just left, he explained, was for new arrivals.  Once they thought you could be trusted to behave yourself, you were allowed your own bedroom—in which, he echoed Richard from the previous night, you were not permitted to entertain callers.  The rest of the corridor was bedrooms, and so, apparently, were the two floors above.  

If they were laid out the same as this one, Thomas calculated that meant bedrooms for about thirty patients.  A bit fewer, he thought, than had been at dinner the night before.  

Perhaps there was somewhere else they sent you, after the Arrivals Ward, if you couldn’t be trusted to behave yourself.  

“There isn’t really anything to see up here, so we’ll go downstairs,” Theo said.  

They took the same route as they had to go down to dinner, but the night before, Thomas had not had the wherewithal to notice that it was a wide staircase, with carved banisters that were now considerably scuffed, but had once been fairly good.  

Not, in other words, the servants’ stairs.  

They emerged into a front hall.  “Post gets left on that table,” Theo said.  “But it only comes once a week, when the boat comes with our supplies.   You remember where the dining room is?” At Thomas’s nod, he continued, “Next to it’s the meeting room.”  He opened the door briefly, revealing a glimpse of a circle of ill-assorted chairs, arranged under a lozenge that had probably once held a chandelier.  “And over on this side, there’s the library—don’t expect too much of it, but it’s quiet—smoking room, big parlour, small parlour.”  

These rooms, too, showed traces of past grandeur.  Theo let them out onto a rather chilly veranda, where he lit a cigarette, offering one to Thomas.  “Stable and outbuildings are over there—I don’t imagine you’re much interested in those?”

“Not particularly,” Thomas admitted.  

Nodding, Theo gestured back toward the house, to a small wing jutting out to the left.  “That bit’s Dr. L.’s domain—consulting rooms on the ground floor, and he lives above the shop, so to speak.  You can get to him from inside, but the door’s in an awkward spot, so unless it’s really bucketing down, it’s actually easier to go around this way.”  

“I see,” Thomas said, though he wasn’t sure he did.

“The place was built as an hotel,” Theo explained.  “That wing was the private quarters of the family that owned it—or ran it, something like that.  I expect they didn’t want paying guests blundering in there, demanding hot water and extra towels.”

The floor plan was not precisely the part that left Thomas confused, but he only said, “I thought it looked like an hotel.”

“Never a very successful one, I gather,” Theo said.  “I believe they envisioned it as a rival to Bognor, but, well, the place gets barely a dozen sunny days a year, and half of those it’s too cold to step outside without a coat.  They got a few visitors for the fishing and shooting, but not much.  Then an uncle of Dr. L.’s had a go at running it as a tuberculosis sanitarium, but the climate’s not any more suited for that than it is for a seaside resort.   Dr. L. took it over around the turn of the century, and, well, third time lucky, I suppose.”

“Not like the current clientele is in a position to be choosy,” Thomas pointed out.  

“There is that,” Theo agreed, tapping ash from his cigarette.  “Not everyone comes here from the same place—most of the ones who work for a living, yeah, but Dr. L. has arrangements with a private clinic or two, and some Harley Street specialists.  But there isn’t another place like this they could go.”

“I see,” Thomas repeated, once again without complete honesty.

“He does insist that they’ve attempted the cure somewhere,” Theo added.  “Dr. L. does, I mean.  And that they ‘demonstrate commitment to the community’ by spending whacking great sums on fifty-year leaseholds.   Which is more or less the way he manages to keep the place running for the rest of us, so….”  He shrugged. “Which is all just to say, if you liked being a valet, we haven’t got any earls, but we’ve got one’s younger son. Lord Gerald—he lives up there.” Theo gestured in the direction of the only other substantially-sized building in view, a stone house, looking considerably older than the hotel, which Thomas wouldn’t have hesitated to call a smallish manor, if it had been located anywhere other than a few miles west of nowhere.  

“…huh,” Thomas said.  

“He’s nice,” Theo added. “If it was a butler he was looking for, I’d be tempted to take it myself, but he’s got one of those, some chap who came with him from the ancestral pile.  And I like the job I have now.”

“What’s that?” Thomas asked.

“This,” he said. “Looking after the new fellows.  I used to—well, never mind.”  He tossed away his cigarette and led the way back inside. Showing Thomas through a very battered green baize door, he explained that all of the “residents,” as the patients seemed to be called, pitched in with various chores, on a rotating basis—Dave, the one who’d been woken up a bit earlier was taking his turn as cook’s helper this week—but a few, Theo among them, were employed for particular jobs.

“You’ll be assigned something to do in a day or two,” Theo added.  “Nothing complicated, to start with.  You were a footman, before you were a valet?”

“Yes.”

“It’ll be something you can just about do with your eyes closed and one hand tied behind your back.”

Downstairs were all of the usual domestic offices—a slightly bigger kitchen than Thomas would have expected in a private house of this size, but the only really striking difference was that the workers were all men.  

Over breakfast, Thomas mulled over Theo’s suggestion that he might valet the resident lord, and all that it implied.  If gentlemen—and even a peer’s son—paid to be here, it really couldn’t be very much like The Clinic, as Thomas’s own observations had already suggested.  But Theo’s offhand statement about the gentlemen paying to keep the rest of them pointed to another sinister possibility.   Toffs treating the working class as their own personal brothel wasn’t precisely new, although a house full of working-class queers on a remote island was a more extreme version of the concept than Thomas had ever encountered.  

If that was how it was, he could think of worse fates than being under the protection of the “nice” Lord Gerald.  

After breakfast was something called the “morning meeting,” which Thomas was, Theo reminded him, not strictly required to attend, since he was “excused from everything” until his appointment with Dr. L. later that morning, but, lacking any notion of what he might do instead, Thomas followed the rest into the meeting room.

From the name, he vaguely imagined some sort of Nonconformist religious service, and this impression was not dispelled when the man in charge, a sprightly gent of about fifty, introduced himself as “Father Timothy.”  Nor when the meeting began with a prayer, during which they were all required to hold hands.  

After that, though, the meeting moved on to secular matters.  First, Thomas and Tanner—“call me Syl”—were introduced to the rest of the group, and then there was a rather lengthy—and somewhat contentious—discussion of the task roster for the coming week.  Thomas and Syl, who it turned out had also been a footman before the war, were assigned to tidying the smoking room and library.  (Theo said he would “show them the ropes,” but Thomas quite agreed with his earlier assessment of the difficulty of the assignment.)  

Following that was a short homily on the theme of Respecting Others in the Common Areas—Thomas could hear the capital letters—which mostly had to do with not leaving one’s things lying about, and the smoking room and large parlour being the approved locations for “lively activity,” while the library and small parlour were reserved for quiet pastimes.  

The final item of business was a series of notices about what Father Timothy termed “community events.” He and someone called Mr. Bracewood were leading a nature walk on Saturday afternoon, the amateur dramatics group were doing a concert in a few nights’ time, and so on—the sort of wholesome claptrap they made you do at rest camps during the war.   The meeting concluded with a hymn—no hand-holding this time, fortunately—and about half of the group hurried off to their day’s work, while those who had nothing in particular to do next stood around chatting in small groups.

“Call me Syl” dragged Theo over to the priest to find out more about the amateur dramatics—he was, apparently, a chanteuse—leaving Thomas to stand awkwardly by the door and wait for something to happen.

He wasn’t left waiting long. “You’re looking a bit less grim,” said Richard, from last night, approaching with a lugubrious-looking fellow who was trailed by a dingy heap of rags that Thomas eventually concluded was a dog of some sort.  

Thomas nodded, unsure what to say.  

“This is Morrow—Ben Morrow—and Wilberforce,” Richard went on.

The probable-dog raised his head from his paws at the mention of his name.  

“Barrow,” Thomas said, even though the entire assemblage had been told his name not a half-hour earlier.

Morrow made a vague sound of acknowledgement.  

“So, ah,” Richard said, “what are your plans for the day?”

Plans?  “I’m supposed to see Dr. L. at eleven,” Thomas said.  “And I suppose I’m tidying the library and smoking room at some point. Apart from that, I don’t know.”

Richard seemed about to say something, but Morrow jumped in.  “He’ll probably make you go to Group,” he said grimly.

Again, Thomas heard the capital letter.  He wondered if Group was anything like Treatment.  

“He probably will,” Richard agreed, adding, “It’s not too bad.  You just sit around and talk about your neuroses for an hour.”

Thinking that he just might prefer a Clinic Treatment over that—though it would be a tough call—Thomas shared a look of mutual understanding with Morrow.  “What if you haven’t got any neuroses?” he asked, momentarily forgetting that they all had at least one, in common.

But Richard said, “Then you don’t have to go to Group.  Well, except Newcomers’ Group.  Everybody has to do that one.”  Before Thomas could angle for more details about Newcomers’ Group, he went on, “Apart from Group, there isn’t a whole lot of psychiatry that goes on, here.  You have a chat with Dr. L. once in a while, so he can see how you’re getting on, but really, it’s a lot like being in a rest camp, back in the Army.  Except they don’t make you carry ammunition up to the Front.”

Covering his surprise at hearing his own thoughts echoed, Thomas said, “But do they make you play football?”

Richard chuckled.  “There’s football, but it isn’t mandatory.  Not a sportsman, are you?”

“I’m all right at cricket,” Thomas answered.  

“That’ll make you popular,” Richard noted.  “The cricket crowd’s always looking for more players.  But none of the leisure activities are mandatory.”

“So they say,” Morrow muttered darkly.

Richard turned his eyes heavenward.  “If you won’t do anything, Dr. L. gets shirty about ‘taking part in the spirit of the community.’  But as long as you aren’t a grump who hates everything, you should be fine.”

Morrow said, “I don’t hate Wilberforce,” and Thomas privately resolved to find out exactly how much “taking part” you had to do in order to be left in peace.  

About then, Theo and Call-me-Syl collected him, and Theo showed them around the grounds a bit—vegetable patch here, chickens there, and so on.   Thomas didn’t really take in much of it, though, because he wasn’t at all interested in vegetables and chickens.

And maybe just a little bit because, with each bit of agriculture Theo pointed out, Thomas’s appointment with Dr. L. was drawing nearer.  

It would be crucial, he knew, to tell the man in charge what he wanted to hear—but what, in God’s name, was that?  If only Thomas had been able to pay more attention yesterday, when Dr. L. had been talking to Syl, he’d at least have some idea what kind of questions to expect.

Theo probably knew—hell, even Syl could fill him in to some degree—but Thomas couldn’t think of a way to get them on the subject, short of coming right out and asking.  So he just followed the others around, attempting to feign interest in cows and things, until the appointed hour came.  

The doctor’s lair was, at least, reassuringly carpeted—not at all the sort of thing you’d want people being sick on.  (He couldn’t think of a reason Richard would have misled him about them doing Treatments here, but he couldn’t rule it out.)  

Dr. L. sat behind a large desk, and there was an analyst’s couch against one wall, just like in the comic papers, but to Thomas’s relief, he was gestured into an armchair opposite the desk, instead.  

“Feeling better?” Dr. L. asked.

That was an easy one, at least.  “Yes, sir.”

“Good, good.”  He opened a document folder on the desk. “Let’s see, the Clinic did the usual course of treatment with you—perfunctory attempt at talk therapy…doesn’t look like you gave them much?”

Of course he bloody well hadn’t.  “Sir.”

“Hypnosis—you were a difficult subject there, as well, and then a rather protracted course of aversion therapy.”

With a manful effort, Thomas managed to repress a shudder.  “Yes, sir.”

“What did you think of it?”

What he thought, when he hadn’t been heaving his guts out, was that the pornography they showed you was filthier and more lurid than anything Thomas had even imagined existed. The French postcard with the girl and the donkey had nothing on it.  “Sir?”

Dr. L. raised an eyebrow. “Did you feel as though it was doing you any good?”

How the hell was he meant to answer that?  “Well,” he said slowly.  Following it up with a “sir”—always a safe bet—bought him another fraction of a second to think.  “It certainly wasn’t pleasant.”  It wasn’t meant to be, so that should be safe, too.  “And it didn’t work, so….”  He trailed off.  

Thomas thought this a fairly neat piece of diplomacy, under the circumstances, but Dr. L. didn’t looked impressed.  “Let me put it another way,” he said.  “Before The Clinic, did you feel that you were ill?”

Why would he ask a thing like that?  “I knew I wasn’t like everyone else, if that’s what you mean.”  It came out more sharply than he intended.  “Sir.”  

“Of course,” said Dr. L. “But did it—this is difficult to express.  Did you truly feel that there was something wrong with you?  That these…behaviors were unnatural?”

For an instant, Thomas was back in Carson’s pantry, before the hell that was The Clinic, saying, I’m not the same as you, but I’m not foul. He knew what he was meant to say, and if he’d been drugged up to his eyeballs and so sick he couldn’t stand upright, he’d have said it.  But now, in this peaceful room, after nearly 24 hours in which nothing abjectly awful had happened…he got as far as forming the lie in his mind—yes, of course, sir, dreadful affliction, and it would have all been worth it if only they’d been able to fix me—but he couldn’t force it out.  

A long silence stretched, Dr. L. regarding him with a pleasantly expectant expression.  

Thomas remembered striking his lighter and holding his hand up above the parapet.  His hand ached.  “No,” he said flatly.  “Sir.  I can’t really say as I do.”

Then he waited for hell to break loose—and nearly jumped out of his skin when Dr. L. leaned forward, smacking the desk with the flat of his hand.  “Precisely.”  Settling back in his chair and taking out a pipe, the doctor continued, “You see, in some cases—perhaps the majority of those that come to the attention of the police—homosexuality is an acquired vice.  Men—often those in whom the sex impulse is unusually strong—turn to it in the absence of women, or out of a desire for novelty, or simply because the opportunity presents itself.  If the act is successful, the man naturally becomes more willing to try it again—the principle being essentially the same as that behind the aversion treatment, except that the stimulus of the male body is connected with the pleasurable sensation of climax—and it can eventually become an engrained habit, and even overtake the normal sexual impulse.  Do you understand?”

That blokes messed about with other blokes because it felt good?  “I believe so, sir.”

“That type of case—pseudo-homosexuality—is very treatable.  Sometimes even resolves on its own, if before it’s become too engrained, the man returns to mixed-sex society, or has a narrow escape from the police, say, and is shocked into reconsidering his behavior.  But I knew as soon as I read your case notes that you weren’t one of those.”

What was that supposed to mean?  “Sir?”

“The pseudo-homosexual’s interest in other men is nearly always carnal in emphasis.  Simple lust.  They don’t romanticize it.  But you—”  He picked up the file, with the hand that wasn’t holding the pipe.  “You kissed your footman because, you told The Clinic doctors, you were leaving your place of employment and wanted him to know how you felt?”

Damn it.  Thomas had said that, back at the very beginning. “Yes, sir.”  

“And because this lady’s maid—his aunt?—said that he reciprocated your affections.”

“She was the other footman’s aunt,” Thomas said.  Not that it was at all important.  “Sir.”

Dr. L. made a note on the file.  “This emphasis on feeling, in your account, is what tells the tale.  You see, in the genuine homosexual, the entirety of the sexual impulse, both the physical and the emotional, is directed toward the same sex.  He desires not just physical release, but psychic communion with another man.”  

The funny thing was, Dr. L. didn’t sound as though he was speaking of something loathsome, at all. Thomas nodded, and the doctor went on.

“And in nearly every case, a close analysis of the individual’s history reveals that the sexual impulse has been directed in this way since before pubescence—that is to say, before any experiences which could have perverted the impulse into this direction. That being the case, any treatment which has its basis in re-directing the sexual impulse back into its natural channel will be ineffective—because for him, the homosexual impulse is natural.”

What.  “Sir,” Thomas said, doubtfully.

“Yes?”

Quickly reviewing what the doctor had said, Thomas found a question he could reasonably ask.  “You said that, ah, it—I—can’t be cured through…the way they tried at The Clinic.  Is there some other way, then?”  He wasn’t sure whether he hoped there was or wasn’t.  It probably wouldn’t work either, anyway.

“There is a treatment,” Dr. L. said.  “Not a cure. A born homosexual, like yourself, cannot be cured, any more than a Negro can be cured of his skin color, because it isn’t a pathology, but rather an innate part of his organism.”  

Thomas wasn’t entirely sure he liked being compared to a Negro—but he supposed the Negro might find the comparison even more offensive.  

“An abnormal part, to be sure,” the doctor continued.  “Like colour-blindness, it’s a disadvantage, but one that is exacerbated by its rarity. The colour-blind man struggles with traffic signal-lights, and coloured advertisements where the text appears to him to be the same shade as the ground.  Much of art is inaccessible to him, and clothing and wallpaper that appear pleasant to him may be ugly to the rest of the world, and vice-versa.  But if half the world were colour-blind, signal-lights and advertisements would be designed so that both halves could read them, and the colour-blind man would find art that reflects the way he sees the world, and clothing and wallpaper that is intended for him.”  He paused.  “Incidentally, you aren’t colour-blind, are you?”

“No, sir,” Thomas said.

“It doesn’t seem to be any more common among homosexuals than anyone else.  Left-handedness might be.”  He made another note, presumably of the fact that Thomas was not colour-blind. “The case of the homosexual is even worse than that of the colour-blind man, because society is not merely indifferent to his needs, but actively persecutes him.  He is denied any respectable outlet for his natural impulses, and his seeking a dis-respectable outlet makes him a danger to the public health, because he encourages the pseudo-homosexual in his vices.  And often receives little satisfaction himself, in the encounter, because of the absence of the psychic element.”  

Thomas thought of Phillip Crowborough, burning his love letters and then suggesting Thomas stay for a tumble.  

The doctor puffed at his pipe and, finding it had gone out, re-lit it.  “Does that, ah, sound like something you’ve experienced?”

A direct question, he more-or-less had to answer it.  “Yes. Sir.”  

“Ah.”  The pipe successfully lit, he puffed for a moment. “I thought you might have.”  He did not, thank God, demand details.   “Have you any questions, at this point?”

Thomas did have one, and after a moment’s consideration, decided to ask it.  “The treatment, sir?”  He really did want to know what he was in for.  

“The treatment, yes. I was getting to it.  The goal of our treatment method is not to change your nature, but to enable you to live with it.  In this way, the born homosexual can live a life as healthy and as satisfying as anyone else’s.”

So it was the cold baths and wheat-bran cure, then.  That explained the cricket.   Well, it was probably an improvement over the more lurid scenario Thomas had thought of that morning, and definitely an improvement over The Clinic.  He was used to long stretches of celibacy, and with Treatments still fresh in his mind, he didn’t particularly want to even look at a cock any time soon.

Thomas assumed an expression of slightly confused interest, and, as he had hoped, the doctor went on.

“There is, often, some degree of neuroticism—either innate, or acquired through the stresses of living in a world that does not welcome him.  Or, lately, from the War.  And the experience of The Clinic doesn’t help, either.  For these difficulties, we prescribe the same treatments as for anyone else—sound nutrition, healthy exercise, fresh air, productive work that is suited as possible to the man’s nature, and a bit of talk therapy.”  With a glance at the analyst’s couch, which Thomas had been studiously avoiding looking at, he added, “Formal psychoanalysis is reserved for the most serious cases.  Most of the men are seen in groups, led by myself or my assistant, which, in addition to being more efficient, provides an element of mutual support.   There are several groups, for different needs, but you’ll start off in Newcomer’s Group, which focuses on understanding and accepting your condition, developing self-restraint and self-respect, and adjusting to our community.”  

That didn’t sound too dire—and once he’d had a chance to think a bit about everything Dr. L. had told him, he’d likely be able to figure out what sort of stuff they wanted to hear.  If he played his cards right, he might be able to avoid any of the other Groups.

“And that community is, of course, an important part of the treatment as well.  Many of our residents have struggled with…expressing themselves, forming friendships, because their nature is at odds with the expectations of the larger world, and because of the strain of keeping a shameful and dangerous secret.  But here, you are, in effect, normal.”

From his expression, Thomas could tell that Dr. L. expected some reaction to this bit of news, but he couldn’t figure out what.  He settled on, “I see, sir.”

“Do you?”  The doctor sounded skeptical.  “In many ways, we’re a village like any other.  We have people from all walks of life, sport and entertainments such as you might find anywhere in Britain, a church and a pub…just with one rather significant difference.”

He paused for effect, and Thomas blurted out, “Wait, do you mean the whole village is—”  Hearing himself, he promptly shut up.

“Yes.  Well, except for Mrs. Williams who runs the laundry. She worked for both of this place’s previous incarnations, and when I explained to her the nature of what I meant to do here, she said that at least what we have isn’t catching, and that she’d been born here, and we’d have to carry her off feet first.  She’s a bit of a character,” he added, with a smile. “But everyone else, yes.”

“I see, sir.”  Well, that was interesting.  

Dr. L. regarded him with a pleasantly expectant expression for a moment, then went on, “In addition to the unique environment, we also approach the issue of homosexuality or sexual inversion in a different way to most other, ah, experts in the topic. Rather than reducing it to a series of base urges, we identify and cultivate the higher, spiritual side, much as the larger world encourages heterosexual—that is, normal—men to do with their sex impulses.”  

Another expectant look, this time more pointed.  “Sir?” Thomas asked.

“From an early age, the heterosexual learns, from the example of the men around him, how the sex impulse is to be managed—as, indeed, does the woman, although she is more often encouraged to deny or repress her sex impulse.  In adolescence, the sex impulse is best directed into other pursuits—success in school, or on the playing field, in friendship—adolescent friendship in both sexes often has a romantic character—into hobbies, and so on. Some continue this process of sublimation into a celibate adulthood; indeed, a great deal of artistic and intellectual achievement can be attributed to homosexuals who have more-or-less successfully sublimated their sex instinct.”

And that explained the amateur theatricals, as well.  Well, if the good doctor thought that giving Thomas enough to do would stop him wanting to have it off with other blokes, he wasn’t going to argue—it couldn’t hurt, and might help.  He nodded understanding.

“But more usually, in adulthood, the normal sex impulse is integrated into everyday life, through the ideals of marital fidelity and commitment.  The carnal element is tamed, as it were, by entwining it with the higher element, and channeling it into a form which emphasizes affection, mutual cherishing, and a shared life, while maintaining the carnal as a small but important part that supports the rest.”

Thomas blinked.  He couldn’t possibly be saying what Thomas thought he was saying.

“In short, while we encourage our residents to consider the merits of a celibate life, we say, as Saint Paul said to the Corinthians, that is it better to marry than to burn.”  

That was what he was saying. Unless there was another hotel full of Sapphic women on the other side of the island, and he’d been lying about not wanting to change Thomas’s nature.  “Sir,” he said, skeptically.

“These are not, I stress, mock marriages like those carried out in the molly houses of the last century,” Dr. L. added.  “They are, of course, not recognized outside of our community, but within it, they have the full force of custom, if not of law.  Promiscuity is no more acceptable here than it is in the larger world. Couples wishing to embark upon a conjugal life are counseled, together and separately, to be sure that neither is making a hasty choice, and then they make a public expression of commitment—usually in church—and from then on, enjoy the privacy and privileges of an ordinary married couple.”

No hotel full of women, then.  Thomas wished ardently for an opportunity to absorb this information—and to figure out the catch—without an audience, but it was not to be.  Dr. L. watched him patiently for a long moment, and finally Thomas nodded.  

Bestowing a kindly smile on him, the doctor said, “It is quite a lot to take in.  That’s why we pay so much attention to newcomers’ adjustment to the community—why we have Newcomer’s Group, why you begin by living communally in the main house, and takes part in daily meetings, and so on. There is, you may have noticed, a certain element of surveillance, which is gradually decreased as you make your adjustment.  We don’t want the place turning into a den of vice.”

“Of course, sir,” said Thomas, politely and automatically.  He could see how that would be a problem.

“You are welcome, and indeed encouraged, to associate with whomever you wish, but while you are in Newcomer’s Group, we use a sort of chaperonage system.  You may participate freely in organized activities, accept any invitations from respectable and well-established members of the community, and use the common areas in and around the main house.  If you wish to go into the village, or to explore the rest of the island, you’ll need to consult with Theo about your plans, and go either alone or in a party of three or more.   It’s a bit of an inconvenience, I know,” he added apologetically.

“It’s—fine, sir.”  Until he ran out of cigarettes, he had no particular reason to go to the village, anyway.  And Theo seemed reasonable enough.  

“Newcomers always live in the main house, and those without private means usually work there, as well. That is, everyone who lives in the main house is expected to pitch in—I believe you were already given an assignment at Morning Meeting?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good.  We have everyone take part, whether they’ve means or not, as a way of fostering a sense of community, but there’s paid work for those who want it, once you’ve settled in a bit.”

That was good to know—after he ran out of cigarettes, Thomas’s next problem would be running out of money to buy more.   He did wonder, however, where Theo’s suggestion that he might valet the nice Lord Gerald came in.  

There was another long pause and expectant look, and finally the doctor said, “Have you any questions?”

“No, sir.”

“Very well.  Once you’ve finished with Newcomer’s Group, you’ll be able to come and go as you please, but we still encourage going out in parties of three or more—especially if you intend to go somewhere out of public view. At that point, you’re also permitted to make your own living arrangements if you wish, but those without private means usually stay in the main house.”

Dr. L. looked at him expectantly again, and this time Thomas came up with a question.  “How long does the, ah, Newcomer’s Group last?”

“It varies, depending on your progress.  If you make a good adjustment, two or three months, but some men are in Newcomer’s Group considerably longer.”  

So that was how they got you to play along with what they wanted.  Fair enough, Thomas supposed.  

“Is there anything else that you’d like to ask me?”

Like what?  “Sir?”

The smile was slightly strained this time.  “How does all this sound to you?”

Well, since he was asking, it sounded barking mad.  Not bad, but absolutely bonkers.  “Fine.  Sir.”

Dr. L. sat back and did some more fiddling with his pipe.  “Very well.  Let’s talk again next week, all right?”

Thomas wondered what would happen if he said “no.”  “Yes, sir.”

***

That’s all, folks!  I am super-interested in hearing what people think, and if you wish to materially encourage this nonsense, you can do that here. 

#Thomas Barrow #fic #thomas and the village of the queers #it is both a village and an island

[onisiondrama]

"The Onision Coverup Exposed (Onision Tells All)" April 9, 2021, Speaks - Summary Part 3

James says in the past he was rude to people to keep them away from him and not attracted to him. He says when he worked at a daycare they went to a beach and the creepy ass girls were grabbing his shirt. They kept following him so he escaped them by taking off his button off shirt, he had a white shirt underneath, and he ran away. He says no one did anything to help him. He says he did a collaboration in Yakima and he slept in the car because he didn't want to be #metoo'd. He says no one talks about how paranoid he was.

James says there was a girl on Twitter who said she wanted him to die, but now she's on good terms with him. Someone asks who and he says Jessica. He says she was in Yakima and apparently she was one of the people who knocked on his car door when he was trying to sleep in the freezing SUV and he ignored her. McFly says she did that because Billy dared her. She says Billy knocked too, but he was naked. James says in 10 years Billy's going to be on a registered sex offender list for public indecency. He says it's funny he did that, but he could get into trouble.

James says when he was 17 or 18 his ex-sister-in-law and her friend tried to pull his pants off. They were playing on swings at a park and they tried to pull them off. They were 3 years younger than him. He climbed to the top of a basketball hoop to get away. He says nobody's going to talk about that. He says he lives his life avoiding this shit, but it still found them. He says he doesn't know why people try to pull his pants off or make him make them avoid him as much as possible.

James says no one mentions he was dressed as the Joker and she (Shiloh) was dressed as Harley Quinn, who the Joker is famous for being abusive towards. (He's talking about the candy corn clip.) He says they uploaded it and at the time everyone understood it was a joke. James says Shiloh can look at that and convince herself it wasn't a skit. (She did say it was a skit. She basically said it was an extra improv clip after a skit, but his words were underhanded.)

James says he saw someone Tweet that he dragged his girlfriend (Shiloh) in the other room, shaved her head, then went back to sleeping with her. He asks how that would occur? He says it's described as non-consensual, but back then she said it was her choice. He says he shaved her head because she wanted to be part of a prank video. They did a lot of fake pranks. She wanted to look like Skrillex, but her hair was so poofy it looked ridiculous, so he asked her if she wanted to shave the rest off. She said yes, so they did it. (Oop. I don't think he ever admitted it was his suggestion before or that he shaved it with her.) He says later on she said it was part of something like a cult. James says she looked stupid as fuck and he was trying to help her out because her head was shaved on one side and the other side was like a huge ball of hair. He said in a blog she said it felt nice to shave her head and it felt like a new start. (She said the opposite in her blog post. She said she felt depressed and defeminized. She said she guesses she has a "fresh start" with growing her hair.)

James said during the phone conversation, Sarah said part of the upcoming episode she shits on Regina and Shiloh. He's wondering if they are going to cut that out or release it. Everyone agrees they'll probably cut it.

James says he thinks Netflix is going to approach him to get the proper side of the story because they made Tiger King and no one knew who he was. He thinks they will get the full side of the story and Discovery+'s credibility will be demolished. He says at that point he might be able to get a lawyer and get significant compensation for what was done. He says he had obvious damages done by the false narrative. He says he would work with Netflix or Hulu. He says when people tell him to work with Discovery+, he tells them how badly they already take him out of context. If he says "yes," they'll put that after anything that will make him look bad. He says he would hold up a "fuck you" sign and instead of answering their questions, he would establish his own questions so they can't edit out of context. He says it's crazy people can be supportive of the doc when they know it's malicious. Like selling the concept of the documentary being sold and the people being outraged it was sold because they don't want their stories told. Sarah said she didn't want to be in the doc, but now she changed and wants to be in it because they didn't tell the right story.

James says he asked Sarah if anyone was paid to be on the show and she said "not to be interviewed." He asked if they were paid to be associated with the show and she said she can't answer that question. He says she told him she's pre-med in college and he said congratulations. He says she laughed and bragged that "I have enough money now to put a down payment on a house" during the call. He says he was thinking if she's a pre-med student, she doesn't have a job and last year in a livestream she said there was no point in him suing him because she had no money. So where did the money come from?

A fan tells him he should sue for defamation. James says find him a lawyer that is willing to receive hundreds to thousands of negative reviews for representing him. Someone jokes he could wait for them to get their license, but they're in Canada. James jokes back and says they're hired and they'll get 90% of the winnings. He said the other 10% goes to troll accounts to comment "told you so." He says the money isn't important to him. He says everyone is online to get attention so it's not a mystery who people would make up bullshit. He says you don't have to believe him that they're shitty, they call each other shitty.

James says he got no credit for calling out Shane after he was canceled. Only Keemstar gave him credit.

Someone says Creepshow Art is not a reliable source for information. James agrees and says he's had extensive conversations with her. The person says Creepshow did credit him for the Shane stuff. James says Creepshow said "if only Chris Hansen didn't fuck up the laptop." James says Chris Hansen knew nothing was on the laptop. He says the laptop was sold to Sarah for $200. It didn't belong to him and he didn't have an account on it. Nothing came of it because there was nothing on it. James says in their call, she said she didn't lie about anything. He said what about you calling Kai a predator when you know he's not one and she sat there in silence with no counterargument. He says if you misrepresent someone and make them look like a predator to get back at him, that's lying.

He says Sarah acted like people were credible after acting like they were full of shit in texts.

Someone asks why James responds to people on the internet when they're out to get him? Like last time they were in VC he responded to an email. James asked if not responding worked for Shane? Kai initially threatened to divorce him if he spoke out, so he tried staying silent. When he dropped the facts people thought he made sense, then they turned back. James relies on his consistent statements.

James predicts when Shane comes back he'll be celebrated because he gets good views. He says people like David Dobrik are so big they're untouchable.

James says he can't watch Shane's videos because he can't watch long form content.

James says he thinks people who participate in cancel culture are either making money off of it or they have something to hide.

James ends the call because he was getting a phone call.

[ballumsecretvalentine]

Old Wounds (Ben/Callum) 

For the lovely @lucres. I hope you enjoy it! ♥️ (military!au, enemies to friends to lovers (kind of), ptsd)

Ben and Callum meet during training in the army. It’s not love at first sight.

“Oi, watch where you’re going!” Toby cries out, while half of what’s on his tray lands on the floor.

The soldier who knocked into him doesn’t bother to turn around and walks on.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Toby shoves his tray into Callum’s hand and goes after him. He stops the man before he can leave the dining hall, turning him around forcefully. Which is the wrong thing to do.

The man in question is Ben Mitchell, he is infamous at the training camp. Everybody knows Mitchell has a bad temper and that you don’t get in his way.

Callum leaves their trays at a nearby table and goes after them. And just in time. Mitchell has Toby by his shirt and even though Toby is taller than Mitchell, Toby seems to be the one who’s shrinking into himself.

“I-I-I’m sorry, mate. I didn’t realise it was you!” Toby is trying to talk himself out of the situation.

“I’m not your mate!” Mitchell snarls into Toby’s face. Before he can hurt Toby, Callum goes between them. It’s surprisingly easy to get Toby out of Mitchell’s hands.

“Come on, Mitchell. He didn’t mean anything by it!” Callum says, shoving Toby behind himself.

Mitchell takes a step back, musters Callum from head to toe, until he finally settles on Callum’s face, tilts his head a bit and smiles thinly.

“Protecting your boyfriend, then, Highway? I’d’ve thought you’d have better taste than that idiot.”

Callum blushes furiously, but he’s not backing down.

“He’s not my boyfriend. But leave him be, he hasn’t done anything to you!”

Mitchell is full on smirking now, his eyes never leaving Callum’s.

“See that he keeps out of my way, then,” he says and leaves.

Confused, Callum can’t do anything else but stare after him. Toby peeks out from behind Callum’s back, watching after the retreating figure of Mitchell. They’re both speechless.

Chris chooses that moment to enter the dining hall.

“What’s with you two? I thought you were getting the food in?” He asks his two stunned friends.

“Callum just rescued me from Mitchell and survived it without getting hurt,” Toby answers after a moment of silence. Chris opens his eyes comically wide.

“How did you manage that, H? Tell me your secret!”

Callum shakes his head. “I have no fucking idea,” he says in bewilderment.

They collectively turn to the door, where not a minute ago Ben Mitchell left through, look at each other, shrug and go back to their food.

~*~~*~

You see, Callum’s been training to become a soldier for six weeks now. And he loves every minute of it. Okay, so, they’re still in the UK and he’s not been assigned to a unit yet. But Callum always wanted to be a soldier, as long as he can remember. Once he realised it would open up the world to him (and that he’d get away from his dysfunctional family), Callum has wanted nothing more than this. Being part of a team, doing everything together, from sleeping, to training to eating. He loves all of it.

Well… not all of it. There is this guy, Ben Mitchell. Him and his friends are training in the same camp and they’re… a lot to deal with. Especially Mitchell. He goes out of his way to antagonise everybody, pretends to be a big man. But only when none of the officers are around. And nobody has the balls to report them.

They’ve been at the training camp longer than Callum and his friends; they will probably be assigned to a unit and be deployed somewhere around the world soon. It can’t be long now. They just have to keep their heads down and be invisible. They’d been lucky to escape Mitchell’s attention so far.

They being Callum, Chris and Tobey. They’d had become fast friends when they met on their first day of training. Luck would have it they were assigned the same dormitory. From that day on they did everything together. It helped that they all had a similar upbringing and bonded over that. For the first time in his life Callum felt like he belonged.

Toby just had to go and put himself and Callum on Mitchell’s radar, though. Callum doesn’t want the aggro; he wants to complete his training and go out in the world and do something good. He doesn’t wanna be beaten up by Mitchell before he can do that.

Callum tries not to think about it too much and somehow he seems to be in luck, because Mitchell doesn’t corner him. When they do happen upon each other, Mitchell just gives him a small smirk, sometimes even a nod and walks away.

One day, a couple weeks after the dining hall incident, Callum, Chris and Toby are walking back to their dormitory, when they cross paths with Mitchell and his friends again.

“Alright?!” Mitchell says, smiles a little and walks on.

Callum and his friends turn after the little group, their mouths open. Mitchell’s group of friends are looking back at them just as confused. Mitchel himself is walking on, oblivious to all of it. They start whispering, though Callum can’t make out what they’re saying because they’re already hurrying to catch up with Mitchell.

“What just happened?” Toby asks. Callum shrugs. He has no idea what to tell them. He doesn’t know what to make of Chris’ expression, who’s looking at Callum weirdly.

“Does that happen a lot?” he asks Callum. Callum shrugs again.

“No? I don’t see him often and if I do, he doesn’t talk to me?” It all sounds like he’s asking questions himself. He looks at Tobey, then turns back to Chris. “This was the first time since the dining hall,” Callum answers honestly. He doesn’t know what Chris wants to hear.

“If you say so.” Chris doesn’t seem to believe him. Callum has no idea why. Why would he lie about talking to Mitchell? It’s not like Callum is friends with him in secret. They’ve never talked to each other apart from that day he tried to help Toby. Callum is so confused.

~*~~*~

They’re getting ready for bed, only Chris and Callum are left in the bathroom. Callum’s just shaved and he’s washing his face when Chris starts speaking.

“I think he fancies you.”

“Huh? What? Sorry, what are you talking about?” Callum thinks he’s missed something, again.

“Mitchell,” Chris clarifies. “I think he fancies you. That’s why he’s nice to you.”

“What?” Callum turns to face Chris. He shakes his head. “Are you mad? How is Ben Mitchell nice to me? Any why the hell would him being nice mean he fancies me?” Callum feels like Chris is making no sense.

“Come on, H! You’re the only person who stopped Mitchell from hitting someone without getting hit in return. He greets you when he sees you! Today he smiled at you! Have you seen that man smile at anyone when it wasn’t in glee? No! I’m telling you, he fancies you!” Chris’ voice is getting louder with every word.

“Chris, mate. Calm down! Even if he did fancy me, I don’t fancy him. He’s not my type,” Callum tells him honestly.

“He’s not?” Chris asks quietly, Callum thinks almost hopefully.

“No, he isn’t. He’s not a nice person. I like kind people, who make others around them feel good. It’s more likely that I’d fancy you rather than Ben Mitchell.” Callum explains.

“Do you?”

“Do I what?” Callum is lost again.

“Do you fancy me, Callum?” Chris is looking at him seriously. Callum needs a moment to think.

“I never thought about it.” Callum says honestly, licking his lips. “I like you, a lot. You’re my best mate. But we’re in the army. I don’t wanna get kicked out for whatever reason.”

“Callum…” Chris takes a step towards Callum, puts a hand on Callum’s chest. Callum keeps looking at Chris and Chris’ hand and back again. But before Chris can continue, there is a commotion outside, and they spring apart like caught children.

Callum clears his throat. “I-I have to go now. To bed. Alone… erm.” He can’t look at Chris, takes his toiletries and leaves the bathroom.

~*~~*~

Callum hasn’t been alone with Chris since the bathroom incident. And isn’t it funny that he measures time in incidents now? His life! Anyway, he’s not avoiding Chris, no. He just… he wants to be honest with Chris. And before he can do that, Callum has to understand himself and his feelings. So, he avoids being alone with Chris.

Callum likes Chris. Who doesn’t? He’s friendly and outgoing and always there when someone needs help. He’s a good listener and very funny. And he makes Callum’s insides go all tingly. Does that mean he likes Chris? That he fancies him? He’s not sure. But there is only one way to find out.

~*~~*~

“I have to talk to you in private,” Callum says. Chris is in their dorm, on his bed, reading a book. He looks up at Callum.

“Okay,” is all he says. He stands up and gestures to Callum to follow him.

They leave the dorms, and head silently to the weapons barracks. There is a supply room, mostly for cleaning products and apparently that’s where Chris is headed. Chris goes in first, Callum following right behind. Chris checks the room, looks between the shelves that nobody is in there with them.

He abruptly turns to Callum who’s been following him like a puppy.

“Finally decided to talk to me, then?” he asks. He doesn’t sound angry. Callum is relieved.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to avoid you, but I also didn’t wanna lead you on.” Callum looks down and scratches his chin.

“I know, Callum. You’re a good guy. And I never meant to put pressure on you. It’s just, you started it and I thought it meant something and….” Callum stops him there, his hands going to Chris’ arms.

“Hey, no. It’s not your fault. I just needed time to think about my feelings.” He takes a deep breath. “I like you, too, Chris. It’s just that all of this is so new to me. Most of my life I didn’t let myself think about these things. You know about my family. There was no room for romance or hooking up. I just wanted to get out of there.” Callum stops for a moment. Chris is looking at him softly.

“I’d like to try, with you. If you’re willing to go slow. Because I don’t know how much I can give you.” Callum looks expectantly at Chris.

“As slow as you want, Callum,” he says. “Can I kiss you?” Callum nods, his mouth dry. Chris smiles at him, leans up to slot their lips together.

Their lips have barely touched when the door opens. They spring apart, Chris turning away from Callum. Callum turns to the door.

“Well, this looks cosy!” Ben Mitchell says, and smirks at them.

Callum feels cold all over. He gestures with his hands, all panicky. He doesn’t know what to say to make things better and Chris is no help.

“Don’t tell me, this one isn’t your boyfriend, either. Because that looked a lot like a kiss there, mate.” He emphasises on mate and Callum blushes again.

“We-we were just…” Callum starts, but Mitchell interrupts him.

“Yeah, I know what you were just. Get out of here and find some place that’s actually private to polish your guns.” Mitchell says, looking at Callum.

“We weren’t…” Callum tries once more, but again, Mitchell interrupts him.

“I don’t care. Just get out!” This time all mirth is gone from his voice, and Callum doesn’t want to take any chances. He turns to Chris, takes him by the arm and marches out. Mitchell doesn’t move, so Callum has to brush by him.

They’re both out of the room and Callum is just about to let the door fall closed when Mitchell speaks up again.

“Oh, and Highway?”

“Yeah?” Callum asks, turning back to look at Mitchell.

“You owe me!” Mitchell’s face is unreadable, but Callum knows he’s being serious. He nods and lets go of the door. When he turns around, Chris is nowhere to be found.

~*~~*~

Callum finds Chris back at their dorm and this time it’s thankfully empty of people. Callum sighs in relief and goes over to Chris’ bed.

“Hey, you okay?” Callum asks.

Chris nods. “Yeah, fine.” He stops. “Did… did Mitchel say anything to you?” He avoids Callum’s gaze.

Callum shrugs. “He said I owed him. D’you think that means he won’t say anything?”

“I don’t know,” Chris answers. “But I wouldn’t put it past him to report us. Let’s just take a break.”

“A break?” Callum’s eyebrows furrow. “We’ve barely started. We were gonna take it slow anyway. We’ll just be more careful about where we meet. Is that okay?”

Chris laughs. “And here I was, thinking I’m the experienced one, but it’s you talking me down, calming me. You’re amazing.”

Callum grins goofily. “And don’t you forget that!” He doesn’t give Chris a chance to answer, he leans down and steals a small kiss. Before Chris can react, Callum is already back on his own bed. Chris smiles indulgently and shakes his head. He’s in for something with Callum.

~*~~*~

The next day they don’t see Mitchell and they’re both glad. Callum isn’t sure Mitchell will keep shtum about what he saw. Chris on the other hand thinks they’re save but that they should still be careful when in public.

A couple days later they find out that Mitchell’s unit has finished their training and they’ve been deployed. No wonder they hadn’t had any trouble. When they find out about the news, Chris and Callum look at each other meaningfully. They’re finally safe to pursue whatever this thing between them is.

THREE YEARS LATER – Kandahar, Afghanistan

Callum is stressed. He’s supposed to be finished in the kitchen. They’re getting a new troop of soldiers today and it’s his job to show them around, to explain the workings of the base. And yet, here he is, still cleaning up. He’s gonna kill the others. Leaving him with all the work just to have a quick smoke, only to never come back. Callum mutters to himself, while running around and clearing away things.

He’s just putting away a stack of plates, having left the trays for last, when the door to the dining hall opens.

“It’s about time, you lazy sods,” Callum says without turning around. “Come and give me a hand, I should have been with the new troop 10 minutes ago.”

“Where do you want these, then?” an unknown and yet familiar voice asks a moment later.

Callum turns around and nearly drops the plates he’s carrying. He’s not sure he’s seeing right, but it’s Ben Mitchell. He’s in Callum’s kitchen and carrying a load of trays. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, doesn’t know what to say. Mitchell is the last person he expected to see.

“Did you forget where these go or is there another problem, Highway? I don’t have the time to stand around here all day.”

That startles Callum into action. He shows Mitchell where the trays go and they clear away everything in an uneasy silence. At least it feels uneasy to Callum.

When they’re done and leaving the dining hall, Callum turns to Mitchell.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I’m with the new troop of soldiers. I’m their captain, to be precise. I was told you’d be showing us around and was coming to get you.” Mitchell answers.

“Ok, yeah, that makes sense. Even though this base is not small, I know most soldiers, even if it’s only by sight. And I’ve never seen you around here until now.” He chuckles nervously, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry, it’s been a hectic morning. Now, where did you leave your boys? I’ll show you to your sleeping barracks and where everything else is.”

They’re silent on their way to the others. Callum is shooting furtive glances at Mitchell, but apparently, he’s not being subtle. Mitchell smiles at him.

“Missed my face, have you?” He asks. Callum flushes again.

“No, um. Just didn’t expect to see you here. It’s been a while.” He’s trying for nonchalance. Mitchell’s look is telling him he’s not successful.

“Neither did I, and yet, here we are. Let’s catch up later, when we’re done for the day.”

Callum is too surprised to say no, so they agree to meet up later that evening, when all the chores are done.

Callum doesn’t know how it happened, but one day it became his job to show around the new troops. He guesses it’s because he’s always nice to everybody and no one has anything bad to say about him. And he doesn’t mind. This way he gets a feel for the new soldiers. He’s made some good friends thanks to his unofficial job.

Mitchell’s troop seems easy-going. There’s a lot of good-natured ribbing, some claps here and there, but no one seems to be an asshole. It’s not what he expects with Mitchell being their captain. But then again, just because he was a little shit when they were in training, doesn’t mean he can’t lead his troop.

Callum is much more interested in how Mitchell made captain in such a short time. He’ll have to ask later.

The tour takes the greater part of the morning and they end it where they began, back at the sleeping barracks. And Callum has to hurry to the dining hall, to prepare lunch. He takes one last look at the new troop, his eyes searching out Ben Mitchell. When they finally find him, Mitchell is looking back at Callum. Callum flushes and quickens his steps.

~*~~*~

They meet up at the barracks and head back to the dining hall. It’s the only place they can have a drink if they don’t want to leave the base. Callum’s a bit nervous and he’s still not sure why he agreed to meet up with Mitchell. But he can’t back out now.

The dining hall isn’t too busy tonight. A few people greet Callum loudly and beckon him over, but he just smiles at them and shakes his head. Mitchell leads them to a table in a secluded area.

“What you having, then?” Mitchell ask, not sitting down. “First round’s on me.”

“A beer, please.” Callum takes a seat, his eyes following Mitchell to the counter. He feels jittery but he wouldn’t be able to explain why if you asked him to.

Mitchell comes back with their drinks and sits down in front of Callum. Callum nods his head in thanks and takes a big mouthful of his drink to calm his nerves. Mitchell is smiling at him knowingly, taking a sip of his own drink.

“So, Mitchell,” Callum begins, but Mitchell interrupts him.

“Ben, please. Mitchell sounds so formal and we go way back.” He winks at Callum. Callum blushes.

“Okay, yeah. In that case, I’m Callum.” He stretches out his hand. Ben looks at it in amusement and lets Callum wait for a moment too long. Callum is about to take it back when Ben’s hand closes around his, firmly, shaking their hands. Callum’s blush turns a deeper shade and he lets go of Ben’s hand.

“So, Ben. How did you end up captain of your own troop? I thought it takes three years before you can make captain?” Callum asks, his hands going around his beer bottle for lack of doing anything better with them.

Ben studies him for a second and takes another sip of his beer. He shrugs.

“Right place, tight time. Saved someone important, got fast-tracked in captain training and here I am, commanding my first troop. It’s also a recent thing, so I’m just a few months short of those three years,” he answers.

“I didn’t know you were interested in leading.”

“What did you think I was interested in, Callum?” Ben arches an eyebrow, as if daring Callum to say something wrong.

“I don’t know. I just didn’t picture you as a captain, is all.” He laughs nervously, scratching at his chin.

“Have been thinkin’ about me, have you, Callum?” Callum wants to protest, but Ben goes on. “Just kidding. I didn’t picture myself leading a troop, either. But I actually like it. It’s difficult sometimes, stressful with so many men’s lives depending on your decisions. But it’s worth it.” He smiles.

“Sounds like you’ve found your calling.”

“Yeah,” Ben nods. “But it also keeps my mind busy, keeps me from doing stupid things.” He admits. “So, you know…,” he shrugs, trailing off.

Callum remembers their brief time together at training, so he just nods in return.

“How about you?” Ben asks. “Are you always on kitchen duty or was that a punishment for something you did?” He looks expectantly at Callum.

“Nah!” Callum shakes his head, smiling. “It’s part of my duties at base and I really enjoy it. As you said, it keeps my mind busy to cook for so many people. I don’t have to think about anything else.” He stops, feeling like he’s said too much. “Anyway, tell me more about this right place and right time. Who was the VIP you rescued? Anyone I now?”

Ben studies him again, and for a heartbeat Callum is afraid he’ll ask what things he’s avoiding, but Ben surprises him. He changes the subject and tells Callum all about the mission that went wrong but led him on the right path.

Before Callum realises, they’ve been talking for a couple hours and Callum has been enjoying himself. And from the look on Ben’s face, so is he. When Callum peeks at his watch, he’s surprised it’s gotten this late.

“This is it for me for tonight.” Callum starts. “I have to get up early tomorrow, training exercise.” Callum slowly gets up.

Ben gets up with him. “Yeah, me, too. Have to get acquainted with the other officers and get our orders.”

They both head outside. It’s gotten dark and even though it was warm during the day, it’s gotten colder now, and Callum hunches his shoulders to keep himself warm. He’s thinking about his bed, when a pat on his shoulder startles him.

“Well,” Ben says. “Let’s do this again, sometime soon. It was fun catching up.” He smiles at Callum.

Callum, still flushed from their drinks, smiles back and nods. Ben stares at him for a moment longer than he’s comfortable. He turns forward and his hand slowly slips from Callum’s shoulder, almost a caress. It sends shivers down his spine and Callum flushes even more.

They make their way to the sleeping barracks in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, before parting ways and bidding each other good night.

~*~~*~

Callum doesn’t know what he expected but having Ben at the base changes his life. They become friends and Callum is having the time of his life. He’s not forgot where they are, what they’re doing. How can you forget war? But Ben makes it bearable. And he thinks he does the same for Ben.

They spend a lot of their free time together, telling each other about their families and friends at home. Callum finds out Ben has a daughter, Lexi, who lives with her mum and that he visits her whenever he’s on leave. Showing Callum pictures of her proudly. Callum just grins at Ben and gushes about how cute she is.

On one of their rare nights off-base Callum finds out Ben is gay.

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise,” he apologises. He’d just pointed out the lady at the bar who had been eying up Ben for the last 15 minutes. Ben had just told him point-blank that he was gay.

“Wait, what about Lexi?” He asks, confused.

“Blimey, Callum. I thought you knew how babies were made?” Ben laughs. Callum flushes. Ben makes a throwaway gesture with his hand.

“It happened before I came out. I was young and trying to prove to myself that I wasn’t gay, trying to prove to my dad that I was his kind of man. It was a quick and very uncomfortable fumble.” He shakes his head. “Didn’t work, of course. When you’re gay, you’re gay. No amount of denial will help. One day it’ll want out. I’m glad I realised that early enough.” He smiles at Callum. “How about you?”

“What about me?” Callum is confused.

“When did you realise you were gay?” Ben asks. Callum feels caught out and then remembers that day with Chris and that Ben had caught them together.

“Right. Erm, yeah.” He stammers around a bit. “I-I, erm, I didn’t realise it for a long time, to be honest. My family wasn’t exactly tolerant, either, and growing up the way I did, I didn’t have time to think about girls or boys. It was about surviving. I realised it after I got out, when there was no one to put pressure on me. But I’m not out-out, you know, with the army being what it is. And being a soldier has always been my dream. So, I’m keeping it on the low. Hardly anyone knows, actually.” Callum shrugs, as if it’s no big deal, smiling a little sadly. Ben nods, knowing what Callum means.

“What about your boyfriend, though?” He suddenly asks.

“My boy-? Oh, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.” Callum answers.

“But I thought-?”

“No, Ben! There is no boyfriend!” Callum says resolutely, stopping any more questions. Callum doesn’t wanna talk about Chris, about what happened to him. Not even to Ben. And Ben seems to understand that. He changes the subject, distracting Callum from his gloomy mood.

~*~~*~

“Our units are doing a joint recce mission today.” Ben ambushes Callum outside the dining hall, startling him. It’s early morning. “You excited about going on a mission with me?” he asks cheekily.

Callum rolls his eyes, snorting. “Yeah, more like see you fail, you mean.” He grins at Ben, his eyes crinkling.

Ben grins back, clapping him on the back. “Go get ready, we’re leaving at 0800.”

They load up their vehicles, with weapons and provisions. They go over their mission objective one more time.

“Okay, boys,” Ben begins. “Our objective this morning is civil reconnaissance. As far as we know, the area we’re scouting out is only inhabited by civilians, so this should be easy. Get in, check out the infrastructure, the facilities. Keep your eyes open for any suspicious activity. Be careful out there! And watch each other’s backs. No man gets left behind!” The men confirm and pile in the cars and they head out.

~*~~*~

One minute they’re driving through the small town, the next they’re being shot at from all sides. They should have expected it, it had been too quiet, too empty. No normal civilian town was that empty.

Callum’s car gets rammed and before they can do it again and flip it, they’re all clambering out, weapons out, shooting at their ambushers. They take cover in an alley, piling behind a crumbling wall. Callum is trying his best, but it’s pure chaos.

Tony, their OC, keeps them together, tells them what to do. Their com-guy, Pete, sends out the message ‘Contact. Wait out’ to the base, letting command know what’s happened.

They’re supposed to look for the other team. Something about bigger numbers. Callum only hears half of it. Tony signals and they head out slowly, keeping cover. The other team is huddled behind their upturned car, getting shot at. Tony makes himself known through radio and Ben’s head turns in their direction. Thank God, he’s alive.

They agree that they’ll wait for a lull in the fire and that Tony’s team will cover Ben’s while they try to get to the safety of the wall. Not a minute later and there is the lull and Ben’s team is running over in twos. Ben’s the last one. He’s just about reached Callum’s unit when he’s shot and goes down. Callum’s heart skips a beat and he freezes. A thousand thoughts are running through his head, not again being the most prominent.

Someone says Ben’s alive, that he moved his head and Callum can breathe again. Then two of Ben’s men are running back for him, pulling him behind the wall.

Once back in relative safety, they pull out the first aid kit. They all have basic medical training, but Callum has helped out in the medic unit a couple times when they needed another pair of helping hands, so Tony tells him to get on with it. To keep Ben alive until they can be rescued. As if he needs to be told.

He inspects Ben’s wound as careful as he can, but Ben keeps groaning in pain. Callum says ‘it’s all right’ over and over again, not sure who he is trying to calm down, Ben or himself.

Callum can’t find an exit wound, so the bullet is still inside Ben. He hopes no vital organs were hit. Callum needs to stop the bleeding though, because he can’t do a blood transfusion out here. He pulls out as much gauze as he can and presses it on the wound. Ben’s body arches in pain and Callum shouts that he needs help to hold Ben down. Ben’s men surround them, lending a helping hand. He gestures to one of them.

“Here, put pressure on the wound. I need to inject him with anaesthetics and antibiotics.” Callum looks through the kit, finds what he needs. He’s thankful that the kits have measured medication and injects Ben first with the anaesthetics and then with the antibiotics.

Ben stutters out ‘Lex’ and Callum’s heart constricts. He has to keep Ben alive, Ben has a daughter who needs him. They all wait with bated breath and slowly Ben’s thrashing weakens and Callum sighs.

“Okay, let me take over,” Callum says, careful while taking over and putting pressure on Ben’s wound. It’s all they can do for now.

The shooting has ceased. Callum isn’t sure it’s because their ambushers have run out of ammunition or they’re waiting for them to come out.

Tony turns to Callum, points at Ben. “How is he?”

Callum shrugs. “There is no exit wound, so the bullet is still in there. We’re keeping pressure on the wound, to stop the bleeding. I’ve injected him with anaesthetics and antibiotics, so he’s calm for now. But he needs surgery. There is nothing else I can do here.” Callum answers truthfully.

Tony nods. “We’ve had contact with base. They’ll send out men our way. But they have to be careful not to get ambushed themselves, so it might take a while. See that he’s alive when they find us!”

“Yes, sir!” Callum affirms. Tony claps a couple guys on their shoulders and turns back again.

When Callum looks back down at Ben, Ben’s eyes are open and staring up at Callum. He’s trying to say something. Callum leans down.

“Th-thank you,” Ben whispers. Callum just nods.

“Hold on,” he says.

~*~~*~

It takes way too long before they’re found. Callum has to inject Ben a couple more times, fearing that any movement might dislodge the bullet and make things worse.

Ben is flown back to base, Callum goes with him, telling the medic on the heli how much medication he gave Ben.

The medic nods and gives instructions over to base to prepare the surgery. The bullet needs to be removed as soon as possible. When they land, Ben is rushed to surgery, but they stop Callum. He needs to be checked out as well. He nods reluctantly and lets himself be examined.

In Callum’s tired mind it takes longer than it should, but finally they’re told that Ben is out of surgery. But they’re keeping him sedated. He will need to be transferred soon, probably back home. Callum is just relieved that Ben’s alive. He hides out in his own bathroom and cries and cries and cries.

~*~~*~

It’s been three weeks and four days since the ambush and Callum is not okay. Ben’s been shipped home. They hadn’t been able to say goodbye, the medics had still kept him sedated.

Callum is going out of his mind, wants to contact Ben, wants to know how he’s doing. But he doesn’t want to come on too strong. He’d sent an email last week, telling Ben all about the goings-on at the base, who was being a jack and how his troop was doing without him. Telling him to write back when he was able to.

He hadn’t got an answer as of yet. And he knows it’s way too early and that Ben needs time to recover. And yet, Callum can’t stop worrying about it.

He has a bit of free time before he has to get back to training and heads off to the sleeping barracks. On his bed he finds an envelope, addressed to him. His name is written in a frilly hand. He picks it up, looks around, as if he can find a clue what it’s about. He shakes his head at himself, sits down on his bed and opens the envelope.

There are two letters and a picture in it. He picks up the picture first and his breath stutters. It’s a picture of Ben and Lexi, taken at the hospital. They’re both smiling at the camera. Ben is still pale, but he’s hugging Lexi to himself. Callum swallows a couple times, trying to keep his tears at bay. But it’s a losing battle.

He opens one of the letters and it’s actually a drawing. There are three people in it, two soldiers in green with a little girl in a pink dress in the middle, all holding hands. It’s supposed to be Ben and Lexi and Callum, the figures all having their names written underneath. In crooked letters it says: THANK YOU FOR SAVING MY DAD! Callum smiles through his tears. Lexi is so precious. He folds the drawing carefully and picks up the other letter. This one is from Ben.

Callum,  

Thank you for everything you’ve done to keep me alive. I’m feeling much better now. Thanks to you I got to see my little girl again. I’ll never forget what you did.  

I got your email. Sorry it’s taken this long to answer. Lexi absolutely insisted on sending you that drawing and no, it had to be the real thing and not on the computer, daddy. That’s what she said, so there you go.  

I hope Max is doing a good job as a deputy captain. And if not, I’ll be back in no time, you can tell him that. If you could still keep me updated about base life, I’d be grateful.  

Hope to hear from you soon.  

Ben xx  

Callum is crying full on now, not caring that someone might come in. He’s so relieved. For a moment out there, he’d thought he’d lost Ben forever and it’d scared him. Scared that it was happening again, that he was gonna lose someone important to him again.

But Ben is doing okay, he’s home with his daughter, recuperating. He smiles and brushes away his tears. Ben is doing okay, he repeats to himself. It doesn’t matter that he’s thousands of kilometres away. He’s okay and with Lexi and Callum will see him again. He’s sure of it. He folds Ben’s letter and puts everything away in the tin box he keeps in his bedside drawer for safekeeping.

Callum smiles, feeling a huge weight lift from his chest.

~*~~*~

That’s how it starts. They send each other letters when Lexi has something to send or when Callum wants to send something back to her. But mostly, they exchange emails. It’s easier and much, much faster. When Callum has the time, they even try to video chat. That’s how he meets Lexi for the first time. She’s a bubbly little thing and Callum can’t help himself but love her.

They’re on another video chat, and Lexi is present again. Ben’s already moved home, they’re sitting in the living room. Well, Ben is sitting, Lexi is coming and going, showing something or other to Callum.

They’re talking about Ben’s training, when he’ll start again, when Lexi interrupts them.

“Daddy, is Callum your new boyfriend?” They both freeze, Callum blushing furiously.

“Er, no princess. We’re really good mates.” Ben tells her.

“So, he’s not like Paul?” She asks innocently, looking at Ben with huge eyes. Ben stills and Callum thinks their stream has frozen but Lexi is still moving, so it must be just Ben.

“No, darling.” He says after a while, blinking rapidly. “Paul was different.”

Lexi shrugs. “Okay!” She says and runs away again. Ben turns to Callum.

“Look, Callum, I have to go. Talk to you soon, yeah?” With that Ben tuns off the stream, not giving Callum a chance to say anything else.

Callum would be lying if he said he wasn’t hurt by Ben ending their conversation so abruptly. He guesses it was because Lexi mentioned Paul. Who was apparently Ben’s ex? Callum wonders what happened between them to make Ben react that way, but he soon gives up. He doesn’t wanna make a big deal out of it.

But when he doesn’t hear from Ben for a couple days, he wants Ben to know that he’s there for him, no matter what. So, he decides to send Ben a short email.

Hey Ben!  

Haven’t heard from you in a while, hope you’re okay. You know you can tell me anything, right? I won’t judge you. No matter what!  

Callum xx  

~*~~*~

Callum doesn’t hear from Ben for two more weeks. He’s freaking out again, wondering what’s happened. Normally Ben sends Callum a message every couple days, sometimes just pictures of him and Lexi and Lola and Jay, who are Lexi’s mum and Ben’s brother. Sometimes they’re just one-liners, that PT is killing him but that he wants to get better as soon as possible.

But he gets nothing for two weeks, even though he’s sent countless messages. Wait, perhaps that’s why Ben isn’t responding? Is he annoyed with Callum?

Before Callum can freak out properly, he gets a notification about a new email. His heart is in his throat. Is it an email from Ben? Gingerly he checks and… yes, yes, it is. Callum tries to calm down his heart, who knows what Ben will say. He takes a deep breath and starts reading.

Callum,  

I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to write to you. I was confused and not sure how to tell you what I’m about to. Do you remember Lexi mentioning Paul? The last time we spoke? Yeah.  

Even though we’ve talked about a lot of things, I never told you about Paul. He was my first boyfriend, my first love. He was the reason I came out. I loved him and I wanted to be with him, no matter what my dad said. And for a short while, we were happy.  

You remember my dad? I only told you that he had dodgy dealings. The truth is a bit more complicated. The people he’s in business with are crooked. One day my old man did something they didn’t like. A group of his business associates happened upon me and Paul, probably looking for me. They knew I was his son. They thought if they roughed me up, it’d send a message to my dad.  

When they attacked me, I tried to make Paul run. But he didn’t, wouldn’t leave me back. He was beat up severely, we both were. They didn’t find us for a couple hours. Our attackers had left us behind, hidden in an alley. When they finally found us, it was too late for Paul.

Paul was a diabetic and combined with the injuries he’d sustained, he never woke up. He was in a coma for a long time, until his family decided to take him off life support.  

The bastards who attacked us didn’t know that my dad had disowned me. By that time, I hadn’t been part of his family and their attack didn’t change that. They killed Paul for nothing. My dad didn’t even bat an eyelash when he found out. That’s how much he hated having a gay son.  

I don’t know what I would have done without Lexi and Lola and Jay. They were all that was keeping me alive. My head was a mess and I was ready to end it. Lola had Jay and I knew he’d be a good father to Lexi. But just the idea of leaving her, of her thinking I didn’t love her enough to stay alive kept me going. I wanted to be a better dad to her than my own.  

That’s how I joined the army. It was never out of interest and love the way you did it. I knew I needed to get away, clear my head. And joining the army was the easiest way, without giving up on my family. It would take me away and during training I could live out my fantasies of killing those bastards that attacked Paul and me. But I could always return to my family.  

Lexi never met Paul, she only knows him from pictures. But I told her about him. I wanted her to know, even if she was too young to properly understand.

I’m sorry I freaked out on you. I didn’t know what to do when she mentioned Paul. I wasn’t ready to talk about him. You’re one of my best mates, Callum, and I like you, a lot. I just didn’t want you to think badly of me.  

I hope you can forgive me for my long silence. Take care of yourself and don’t be a stranger.  

Love, Ben xx  

By the time Callum finishes reading, he’s crying. His heart aches for Ben and what he went through. But he also knows he’s one of the few people who might understand what happened to Ben. He decides to write back right away, before Ben gets the wrong idea.

Ben,  

I’m sorry you went through all that and that your dad doesn’t understand what he has with you. I’m glad you have Lexi, Lola and Jay and that they kept you from doing something terrible. This world would be poorer without you. I’m happy you’re alive and that you’re my friend.  

I guess it’s time to tell you my story. I know you know about Chris. Chris Kennedy, who was in training with us. I remember the day you caught us so vividly. It was our first kiss. And before we could get anywhere at all, you were stood at the door, scaring us.  

I actually thought you’d report us, don’t ask me why. But Chris was adamant you wouldn’t. When we found out that your unit had been deployed, we were happy. We felt safe. And we were. We had time to explore whatever it was between us and we fell in love.  

It was easily the happiest time of my life, those 42 weeks of training with Chris. We spent most of our time at training together and when we had time off, we met up and spent more time in each other’s pocket.  

It happened on our last holiday before our unit got deployed. Chris had left the training camp earlier, wanting to visit his sister, before we met up that evening. It was Valentine’s Day and we’d planned a romantic dinner, away from prying eyes.  

Chris and I never met up that evening. I waited for him, but he never showed up. I was angry, but mostly I was disappointed. I tried reaching him, but he didn’t answer his phone. I called his sister, Vicky. When she told me he’d left hours ago, we both started worrying. But we couldn’t do anything.  

When Vicky finally called me, it was to tell me that Chris had been in an accident and that he was dead. He was on his way to meet me when another car crashed into him. The other driver was drunk, way over the limit. Chris died on impact, while I was sat at home, being angry and disappointed at him.  

I struggled with that, couldn’t get back to training for a while. It’s why I didn’t ship out with my initial unit. I took leave for a few weeks. Visited Vicky and helped her with Chris’ funeral.  

When I was ready, I finished my training and left with another unit. I haven’t seen her since. I couldn’t deal with going back home, facing Vicky. She never blamed me, but it’s hard to get over the fact that Chris was on his way to meet me. Had he stayed with Vicky, he might be alive today.  

The last time I talked about Chris was with Vicky, before I returned to training. She said she was happy that Chris and I got to love each other, that she’d never seen him so happy. Chris apparently used to write letters to her about me, even before we got together.  

I loved hearing that, but it was also painful, knowing I’d never have that again. So, I left and never returned home. Even when we get back from deployment, I always stay at home base. There’s nothing out there for me without Chris.  

When you asked me about Chris, I clamped up, even though you didn’t say his name. The people in my new unit don’t know about Chris, so they’ve never asked me. When they wanted to know why I deferred finishing training, I told them it was personal, and they left it at that. And I’m grateful that you didn’t press me when I didn’t wanna talk about him.  

But it was time now, to tell you all about it. I hope you know that I do understand what you went through with Paul and that if you ever need to talk about him, I’m here. I might not have known him, but you can tell me all about him.  

I’ll always be your friend!  

Callum xx

A couple days later Callum gets a short email from Ben, telling him to take his overdue holiday and to come visit him in London.

ONE MONTH LATER – London, England

Callum hasn’t been back in the UK for about 6 months. He’s missed it, of course, he has. Everything is familiar here, the people, the streets and even the weather. But most of his friends are in the army and he hasn’t heard from his family in ages. So being back feels strange.

But Callum is excited about the upcoming two weeks, to see Ben again and to finally meet Lexi in real life. Ben had offered up the guest room in his house and Callum had accepted. He liked not having to deal with the hassle of finding a hotel room that’s not too expensive and checking in and checking out. Callum hadn’t specified when he’d be arriving when he’d last talked to Ben, just that it would be sometime today.

When Callum arrives in Walford, he finds himself in the middle of a market, with people shouting about their wares and punters looking for the cheapest prices. Callum stops by one stand and asks for direction. Ben seems to live nearby, not even five minutes away.

At Ben’s door, Callum hesitates. He’s excited, but it’s a nervous excitement. He doesn’t know how it will feel to see Ben again. He checks his clothes one last time, takes a deep breath and knocks. After a moment Callum hears ‘I’ll get it’ from inside and the door opens.

Callum’s breath catches, because it’s Ben who’s opened the door. Ben himself freezes for a moment before throwing himself at Callum and hugging him tightly. Callum is surprised but he lets go of his bag and hugs back just as tightly. They stay in each other’s arms, swaying slightly, until a female voice from inside the house interrupts them.

“Ben? Who is it?”

Callum opens his eyes (and when had that happened?) and looks behind Ben. He recognises her from the pictures Ben had shown him, it’s Lola. Ben lets go of Callum but keeps his hand on his arm and turns back to Lola.

“Lo, this is Callum.” He gestures from Callum to Lola. “Callum, this is Lola.”

“Come in, come in,” she says and pulls Callum inside and into another hug. She whispers ‘thanks for saving him’ into his neck, lets go and leads him into the living room.

The room is spacious, neat and yet lived in. It’s painted in a pale blue with no wallpaper. There are a couple toys lying around. Lola goes to get Callum a drink, while Callum and Ben take a seat.

Callum keeps looking around, still nervous. When his eyes finally land on Ben, Ben is smiling at him. Callum blushes but grins back. That’s how Lola finds them, grinning at each other like idiots.

“So, Callum,” she puts down his drink in front of him and sits down beside Ben. “How was your journey?”

Callum takes a sip and shrugs. “It was okay. Our regiment returned to home base, so it was rowdy and loud, but fun.” He gestures at Ben. “Ben here probably remembers how it is, everyone is just excited to return to their families. It was a good excuse to come and visit.” He smiles at them both.

Ben nods knowingly. Callum has a difficult time keeping his eyes off him, studying every little detail about him. Ben looks good though, he seems fine. There are no obvious signs of pain. Callum is relieved.

Suddenly Ben claps his hands and startles Callum. He grins wide at Callum’s reaction.

“So, you ready to have fun the next two weeks, then?” He asks.

“Sure, if your injuries don’t prevent you from going out and about.” Callum shrugs.

“He’s supposed go out, Callum. Being cooped up at home is no good for him.” Lola intervenes. Ben shoves her, making them all laugh.

“Okay, come on,” Ben says, getting up. “I’ll show you to your room. You can come down when you’re ready. When I get back with Lexi from school, we’ll all have lunch together. After that we can decide on a battle plan for your holiday.” He smiles at Callum, who follows after him.

Ben shows him to his room. It’s small but comfortable and it has an en suite bathroom.

“So, you won’t have to fight with anybody else in the mornings. And it’s big enough to accommodate all of you” Ben says and winks at Callum. Callum flushes again and wonders if he stopped turning red once since he entered this house. Probably not.

Ben’s face turns serious after a moment.

“I’m glad you came,” he says quietly and licks his lips. Callum’s eyes follow the movement.

“So am I.” He answers just as quietly. They’re finally alone and Callum can’t look away from Ben, studies his face, tries to see if he looks different from what he remembers.

Ben’s lost his tan and the bags under his eyes are more prominent, but apart from that he looks the same. He looks good. Not deathly pale anymore. Callum might even say happy. It’s probably because of Lexi. Callum would be happy, too, if he had her around.

When Callum realises that Ben is studying him in return, the air around them changes, feels thick with tension. Callum feels unsure and clumsy. He scratches at his chin, doesn’t know what to do with himself.

But as always, Ben seems to understand without Callum having to say anything and he looks away first. He claps Callum on the back and turns to leave.

“I’ll let you get settled. I might be out getting Lexi, depending when you’ll come downstairs. Please make yourself at home.” With that he closes the door quietly and leaves Callum alone with his thoughts.

Callum sits down heavily on the bed and buries his face in his hands. He breathes slowly counting till ten, trying to calm down. He doesn’t understand why Ben has this effect on him, why he feels so alive when they’re together and yet parts of him want to run away and hide from the world.

Callum feels confused but he hasn’t had anybody to talk to since Chris died, no one to tell about his feelings. Ben’s come close, but Callum can’t talk about these feelings with him. Not yet. He takes one last deep breath and gets up and starts unpacking.

~*~~*~

When he gets downstairs after having taken a shower, the house is empty. At first Callum wants to sit down and wait for Ben and Lexi, but he feels strange doing nothing. And Ben had mentioned something about lunch, so Callum wanders into the kitchen and looks around. He doesn’t see any prepared food. He rummages through the fridge and the cupboards - Ben had told him to make himself at home, so - and finds a few things he can turn into something edible and gets going.

The backdoor opening startles Callum. He sets down the knife and turns around to see Ben ushering Lexi in.

“–things away and go get washed, little madame. We’ll have lunch in a bit.” Ben is just saying but seeing Callum in the kitchen stops him. Callum waves, smiling nervously.

“Hi! Erm, I was bored, and you told me to make myself at home? So, I cooked? I hope you guys like Spaghetti Bolognese?” Callum babbles.

“Wow, you’re really tall!” Lexi interrupts, making Ben snort and Callum laugh.

“Yeah, I am a bit tall. Sorry,” Callum says, crouching down. He looks at Ben, before he stretches his hand out to Lexi. “Nice to finally meet you in person, Miss Lexi.”

Lexi looks at Callum’s hand and then up at her daddy. Ben nods at her. She takes a couple steps towards Callum, ignores his hand, and hugs him. Callum feels overwhelmed but hugs her back. She’s such a tiny human.

“Okay, let him go, Lex.” Ben interrupts them. “Now, go and get ready. And remember to wash your hands!”

Lexi lets go of Callum. “Okay, daddy,” she says and skips out of the room, already taking off her coat and backpack. Callum looks after her, smiling.

“She really is something, Ben. You’ve done well with her.”

“That’s mostly Lola and Jay’s work, what with me being away so much. But her gobby mouth, that she definitely gets from me.” Callum grins at that, looking down. He scratches at his chin.

“I hope you don’t mind that I cooked.” He says after a moment of silence, feeling shy.

“Nah,” Ben shakes his head. “I was gonna order Chinese. A home cooked meal is much better.” He smirks at Callum. “And definitely something I could get used to!” Ben winks, making Callum blush. He rolls his eyes and turns away. He spies a kitchen towel and throws it at Ben.

“Help me set the table. I’ll be done with the salad in a minute and we can eat.”

“We’ll have to wait for Lola and Jay. I’ll text them to hurry up.” Ben answers and goes to take off his own coat.

Not five minutes later Lola is coming in with Jay and introductions are being made. They set the table together, Callum plates up and they all sit down to eat.

He watches Ben with his family, tries to get a feel for their dynamics. Lexi is obviously the little princess of the family, with everyone doting on her. Lola tries to set boundaries for her. He catches Ben winking at Lexi and her grinning back at him. Callum is glad Ben gets to come home to this. That he has a little daughter who loves him very much.

~*~~*~

That first night Callum has trouble sleeping. He’s been tossing and turning around, but he can’t sleep. He checks the clock on the bedside table and groans. It’s too late to be awake but definitely too early to get up yet. He sighs.

He decides to try warm milk. He’ll be a walking zombie come morning without any sleep. Lexi has been excited to spend the day with him and her dad. He can’t disappoint her.

He makes his way downstairs quietly, not wanting to wake up the others. In the kitchen, he pours himself some milk and puts in the microwave to heat it up. He watches the timer, so he can stop the microwave before it dings. He carefully sits down at the kitchen table, blowing on his hot milk.

A throat-clearing startles Callum out of his thoughts. He doesn’t know how much time has passed, but his milk isn’t hot anymore, so that should be an indication. He looks up and sees Jay standing in the doorway. They smile at each other.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jay asks. Callum shrugs. “Yeah, Ben always has trouble sleeping the first couple days when he comes back home, too.” He gestures at Callum’s cup. “Is that hot milk?”

“It was.”

Jay get himself a glass of water and sits down with Callum.

“So, how you finding it, being back?” Jay asks.

“It’s strange, because life over there is so contained. Sure, we do have our routines, and we go out and have a drink. But it’s the same faces every day. Everything out here is so big, so crowded, like I could get lost any minute. I’m not sure which I like more.” He laughs. “I don’t know. Am I making sense? It’s very late and my brain is sleepy.”

“Yes, it does.” Jay nods. “Ben said something similar when he came home that first time. You’ll get used to it.” Callum smiles at him.

“I wanted to thank you for what you did for Ben. For keeping him alive.” Jay says after moment of silence. Callum isn’t smiling anymore.

“There is no need for that. I-” Callum starts, but he doesn’t get very far.

“Ben told me what happened. Well, as much as he remembers, anyway. And that’s mostly you. Keeping him alive. Talking to him. Calming him. The rest of it is a blur.”

“Not for me,” Callum says quietly and promptly covers his mouth. Stopping himself from saying more. He shakes his head, hoping Jay will understand.  

“Okay, well. I’m off to bed.“ Jay finally says. He seems to have the same mind reading ability as Ben does. Callum is grateful. "You should head up soon as well. Lexi will run you ragged tomorrow!”

“Ta. I’ll just finish this.” Callum points at his cold milk.

Jay looks at him for another moment, before nodding and heading out. Callum sighs, feeling the tiredness pulling at his eyes.

~*~~*~

Callum loves being with Ben and his family. They’re a tight knit unit, much like those in the army, sometimes brash and loud but he can see love in their every interaction. The mornings are his favourite, when they’re all running around, getting Lexi ready, making her breakfast, packing her lunch. It looks like he’s watching a choreographed play, with Lexi always being the centre of attention. And she obviously enjoys it.

These last couple days they’ve been exploring the city together. Callum is no stranger to London but discovering things from Ben and his family’s perspective is fun. It makes him see London in a different light.

Lexi demands a lot of Callum’s attention, just as with the other adults in her life, wanting to show him her favourite animals at the zoo, or that café her mummy took her. And look, there is a fair here, can we please go?

Callum knows he’s a pushover when it comes to her, but he loves seeing her smile. It reminds him so much of Ben. So, he spoils her a little (a lot). Lola’s told him off already, but Ben had grinned at him, not being able to say no his little girl either.

A couple of times he’s managed to wander around on his own, when everybody’s been busy. He didn’t mind. He’d just took off and walked around, trying to get lost in the bustle of the city. He loves being back here. And a little part of him doesn’t want to go back. He wants to stay here forever, with Ben and his family.

~*~~*~

Callum checks his hair in the mirror one last time, smooths out his shirt. This will have to do. They’re going out tonight, Lola, Jay, Ben and Callum. Ben wants to show him his mother’s gay bar. Apparently, Kathy – Ben’s mum - had been inspired by him. Ben had laughed, when he’d told Callum the story. His mother had wanted to find him a steady boyfriend and thought opening up a gay bar would bring all the boys to Ben. Only, Ben had left for the army and was still single.

Callum thinks it’s a lovely gesture. His mum left them when Callum was too young to remember her, having had enough of her violent husband. They’d never heard from her again.

And now Callum is going to meet Ben’s mother. He is nervous. He wants her to like him. He’ll be on his best behaviour. He nods to himself and goes to join the others.

The Prince Albert is not too far from they live, so they walk over there. Lola has linked their arms together, telling him outrageous stories from when they were teenagers. Callum thinks she’s exaggerating and looks to Jay. Jay shakes his head. Ben is just grinning. He thinks he should be afraid, but he’s mostly entertained by their antics. Soon after, they arrive at the bar.

The bar itself is packed, the music blaring loudly. There are posters of half-naked men and women, but they’re tasteful. Everything is bright and colourful. Callum likes it.

They make their way to the bar, Lola and Jay going to secure a table. A couple minutes later, with drinks in their hands, they find them in a corner booth, talking to someone. When she turns around to greet them, Callum realises it’s Ben’s mum. She’s a gorgeous lady with a big smile.

Ben hugs her and turns to introduce Callum. She ignores his hand and hugs him tightly, patting his back. Right when Callum is starting to feel uncomfortable, Ben saves him.

“Mum, let him go. You’re embarrassing him.”

She lets go of Callum and he can see that she has tears in her eyes. She smiles up at him.

“You’re my hero, Callum. Thank you for saving my boy. I don’t know what I would have done, if I’d lost him.”

Callum ducks his head, overwhelmed by her reaction. He can feel himself tense, clenching and unclenching his fists over and over again.

“She’s only saying that because I haven’t annoyed her, yet, today. As soon as I say something she doesn’t like, she’ll tell me off, forgotten all about my injury.” Ben says theatrically, taking the attention from Callum. Callum is grateful. He counts to ten, breathing deeply.

“Oh, shush,” Kathy says and claps Ben’s back playfully. Ben holds up his hands, pointing to his mother, making everybody laugh. It loosens the tension inside Callum a little.

Kathy turns back to Callum. “I’m Kathy, by the way. Come, sit, let’s all have a drink.”

~*~~*~

As the night goes on, Callum slowly relaxes again. Kathy has tons of embarrassing stories about Ben, making him pout and everybody else laugh. Apparently, Ben is a huge musical fan and he used to put on Kathy’s dresses and re-enact his favourite scenes, singing and dancing. Callum has tears in his eyes, he’s laughed so much and asks whether there are pictures he can see.

There is a brief moment when he feels uncomfortable again. He’s gone up to the bar to get the next round in, when a stranger comes up to him. He nods at Callum, trying to smile, but it mostly looks like a grimace.

“Haven’ seen you ‘ere before,” he slurs, smelling like a distillery. Callum just looks away.

The man nudges him, trying to get his attention. “Hey, whazz you name?” He smacks his lips, making Callum flinch. He’s too close for comfort.

“Sorry, mate, not interested,” Callum says, trying to move away furtively.

Before the other man can say something else, Ben slides up to Callum, crowding his space, putting his arm around Callum. Callum tenses for a heartbeat but relaxes when he sees it’s Ben. He tries for a smile. Ben just nods.

“You need help with the drinks, babe?” he asks, putting himself between Callum and the drunk guy.

“Yeah, thanks,” Callum answers, blushing. He leans into Ben, feeling safe. They smile at each other.

The drunk guy gets the message and leaves, mumbling into his drink.

Callum sighs in relief, turns to Ben.

“Thank you for that. I don’t think he would have left me alone without you.”

“You’re alright,” Ben winks at him. Callum blushes again, looking down. They wait in comfortable silence, still leaning into each other and join the others when their drinks are ready.

Halfway through the evening, Kathy says her goodbyes, hugging Callum again and telling him to come around for breakfast soon. Callum promises he will.

With Kathy gone, Lola pulls them all to the dancefloor, saying they all need the stress relief. Callum feels clumsy, too flaily in his big body, but Ben insists, pulling out the puppy eyes and Callum gives in. He does feel embarrassed, but he’s with his friends and they’re all having fun, laughing. Lola is right, it’s a relief to let go.

When they call it a night, Callum is pleasantly buzzed. He’s flushed and feels sweaty, but the walk back home cools him down a bit. When they’re back, he turns to Lola.

“Thank you for tonight. I didn’t know I needed that.” He kisses her on the cheek.

“Anytime you wanna go out again, you know where to find me,” she says, smiling up at him sweetly. He kisses her again, making Jay protest.

“Oi, that’s my missus. Enough of that!” Jay is definitely drunk. Lola snorts.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you to bed, mister.” She turns to Callum and Ben. “Goodnight, boys!” She pulls Jay towards the stairs, patting him on his back.

Callum looks after them fondly.

“They’re good together,” He says, turning to Ben.

“Yeah,” Ben nods. “They’ve been it for each other for a very long time. It just took them a while to work things out.”

“Because of you and Lexi?”

“That, too. They had other things keeping them apart as well. But all that is ancient history, now. Jay loves Lexi as if she were his own. We’re a family. Hell, with me being away so much, he’s had to step up even more. I’m just happy my little princess has one more person fighting in her corner.” He smiles up at Callum.

“She’s lucky to have all of you.” Callum comments. He’s about to head upstairs as well, when Ben stops him.

“Listen. I hope my mum didn’t make you uncomfortable. It’s just, to her, you’re a hero, because you saved her son.” Ben points at himself. “She’ll love you forever now.” Ben’s grin is infectious.

“No, she was alright. She loves you and she shows it.” Callum swallows, feeling his throat close up. “Erm, I’m gonna head up. It’s been a long day. Good night, Ben.”

Ben stops him again.

“You sure you’re okay, Callum?” Ben asks, concerned.

“Yeah, just tired. Not used to going out anymore.” He tries to smile. But he can see on Ben’s face that he’s not doing a good job. “Just need a good night’s rest. I’ll see you tomorrow!” Callum turns and quickly makes his way to his room.

~*~~*~

Ben is lying there motionless, his uniform drenched in blood. The heat is overwhelming, coupled with the cacophony of being shot at from everywhere. And Ben is lying there motionless. Callum wants to go get him, check his pulse. Do something! But the others are holding him back, telling him it’s too late. No, it’s not! Not Ben, too! No, no, no…

Callum opens his eyes, his heart racing. He sits up, looking around frantically. For a moment he doesn’t remember where he is. Just a second ago, Ben was… Callum closes his eyes. Yeah, okay. Another nightmare. He sighs. He puts his face in his hands, breathing deeply, trying to calm his heart.

When it doesn’t work, he gets up, opens his window, letting in the cool night air. Hoping it will help. He walks up and down, trying to lose the jittery energy, but to no avail. The room is too small, and he can only take two steps before he has to turn around. He runs his hands through his hair, pulling at it occasionally. His mind won’t shut up, taking him back to the ambush. Callum feels like his heart is gonna explode out of his chest. He needs to get out of this room. He needs more space or he’ll suffocate.

He grabs a hoody and leaves his room as quietly as he can. He doesn’t know where he wants to go, but he can wander around, try and clear his mind. When he turns into the kitchen, he stops abruptly.

Ben’s sitting at the kitchen table, an unopened beer bottle in his hand, staring at nothing. He startles when he hears Callum come in. Their eyes lock.

Ben’s eyes are red, he looks like he’s been crying. Callum hesitates. Should he go back? But he can’t leave Ben like this.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks hesitantly, gets a beer and sits down beside Ben. Ben doesn’t say anything.

Callum plays with his bottle, not opening it yet. Ben sighs.

“Nightmares,” he says quietly. “You know, about-.” He stops, his hand moving to his now healed wound.

Callum stills, bottle forgotten in his hand. He turns to Ben slowly, studying him.

“I know about those,” he finally says. “Had one myself.” Ben looks at him. Callum shrugs.

“How’s PT going?” He changes the subject, needing to forget about nightmares.

“It’s not, actually.” At Callum’s confused look, Ben explains. “Apparently there is something wrong with my left ear.” He sighs, shaking his head. “They-they don’t know if I can return to active duty.”

Callum is shocked. Ben hadn’t said anything about more injuries. No one had.

“I thought you were getting better?”

“Yeah, the bullet wound is all healed up, it has been long enough. And there is no lasting internal damage. But the ear, it’s a recent development, probably after effects of how I landed after I got shot. They don’t know how it happened, but there is some damage and…” Ben stops, pulling something small out of his ear. “Didn’t you notice this little thing?” He asks, showing Callum a little earpiece.

He wants to answer, but Ben stops him, putting it back in. He shrugs at Callum’s curious look.

“I can’t hear much without the aid. They don’t know if my hearing will come back or not. I’ll have to get check ups every couple weeks. And till then, I’m staying here.”

“Oh!” Callum says quietly. “I didn’t realise. And you never said anything. Why?”

Ben shrugs again, biting his lips. “I didn’t wanna ruin your holiday. Talking about maybe not returning to the army? Not so much fun… And I didn’t want you to pity me.”

“Ben, I wouldn’t have-,” Callum starts saying, but stops himself when he sees Ben tense.

Callum doesn’t want to upset him by saying the wrong thing. He studies Ben, the way he holds himself, his eyes weary, the dark circles under his eyes even more prominent in the low kitchen light. Like he’s ready for a fight. And Callum understands.

Ben’s been hurting all this time, not knowing what his future will bring. Whether he can return to the army or not. He remembers Ben’s letter, how much the army had done for him after Paul. And Callum had gone on and on about the army, their friends and what they’d do when Ben came back. No wonder Ben hadn’t said anything.

Callum takes Ben’s hand, startling him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to have a go at you. Do-do the others know? Your mum?”

“Jay and Lola know,” Ben says. “We haven’t told mum or Lexi. Didn’t want to get their hopes up, you know, about me staying here permanently. I think my mum knows something’s up, but she’s not pushing for an answer right now. And Lexi is just happy to have me here as long as she can.”

“I’m sorry,” Callum says.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t shoot me. In fact, you saved me. Imagine what would’ve happened if you didn’t. I’d have lost more than my hearing,” Ben tries to joke. Callum lets go of his hand.

“Don’t say things like that, Ben. It’s not a joke!” He feels himself tense again. He hates that just the idea of Ben not surviving has this effect on him.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s not. I’m not good at dealing with what happened.” He stops, as if he’s stealing himself for something. “I’m going to therapy… for PTSD.” He shrugs, as if it’s nothing. “Twice a week. Was one of the requirements if I wanted to go back to training. Not that I can now with my wonky ear.”

“Therapy? That’s good, though, right? Is it helping?”

“No. Yes! I don’t know.” Ben sounds confused. “It’s early stages yet. My therapist says it might take some time. I’m supposed to be patient with myself. Can you imagine?”

“No, not really,” Callum answers, making them both laugh. Ben sobers up soon, though.

“To be honest, Callum, I don’t know what to do if I can’t go back. I love being here with Lexi and my mum, and Jay and Lola. But I don’t know if civilian life is for me. I like the structure and order of army life. The way it keeps me in line. I’m afraid of what I might do without it. I don’t wanna go off the rails again.”

Callum puts his arm around Ben, wanting to comfort him.

“Ben, whatever happened years go is in the past. You’ve grown up now. Yes, the army gave you a structure to hold on to. But it was your decision to make that change in your life. You couldn’t have done it, if you hadn’t wanted it to. And you have your family here, they’ll help you. And as long as I’m here, I can help you figure things out.” He pauses, smiling at Ben. “You’re not alone. You don’t have to deal with this on your own.” Ben smiles back.

They’re quiet for a while, both lost in their own thoughts.

“What about your nightmares?” Ben asks, startling Callum. Callum pulls his arm back, grabbing his beer. He fiddles with the label, trying to think of something to say. In the end, he shrugs.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” He says quietly. He can see Ben nod from the corner of his eye.

“I’m here, though, if you wanted to.”

“I know,” Callum says.

Later, when he’s back in his bed, drifting off, he remembers that he’d been about to go out of his mind and that talking to Ben had calmed him down. He falls asleep smiling.

~*~~*~

They’ve taken Lexi out to Richmond Park for the day. It’s a bit further away from home, but Lexi had wanted to go to a park with animals, because of her homework – something about drawing things you can see in a park. And Callum had wanted to try the small café one of his army mates had told him about. Ben hadn’t been able to resist two pairs of puppy eyes, so, here they are now. It’s a few days before Callum is due to leave. They’re walking together, Lexi in between them, holding their hands, trying to find something that might catch her eye.

“No, Daddy, a trashcan is boring. I need something interesting,” Lexi informs him. She lets go of their hands and walks ahead of them. Ben turns to Callum, mouths ‘something interesting’. He rolls his eyes, smiling fondly.

“Daddy, daddy, look!” Lexi whisper-shouts, calling Ben to her side. They quickly catch up with her. She’s jumping up and down, pointing into the little wood.

And there, hidden behind a bush they see a deer, with antlers and all.

“Okay, princess. You have to calm down and be quiet or the deer will walk away before you can draw it.” Ben tells her. She looks at him with huge eyes and nods. Ben walks her to a nearby bench and sits her down, helps her pull out her sketch book and pens. They whisper together, smiling excitedly.

Callum stays back a little. He loves watching Ben with Lexi. He’s so good with her. He tries to listen to everything she tells him, engages with her. If he snaps at her for whatever reason, he apologises immediately, telling her he was angry at something else.

She’s such a lively little girl, always on the move. Making the adults around her do whatever she wants. And she is so very cheeky. Callum loves it when she gets that glint in her eyes and says something outrageous for a girl her age. She reminds Callum so much of Ben.

He presses his hand to his own chest, hard, trying to soothe the ache he feels. He knows it’s a moot gesture, it’s a feeling that’s been growing slowly over the last week and a half.

And finally, finally, he understands. He understands the growing feelings he couldn’t put into words - Callum is in love with Ben. There is no earth-shattering, no stars aligning, no fate intervening. It’s a quiet but certain realisation that he’s been in love with Ben for a while. And when he thinks about it, actually tries to put it together, it makes sense.

Callum can talk to Ben, doesn’t feel the need to hide. Ben understands him, doesn’t make him talk about things if he doesn’t want to, but he’s a solid shoulder to lean on if Callum needs it. Ben never talks down to him, always encourages him to move at his own speed. Most importantly, he makes Callum laugh, brings him out of his head where he sometimes gets lost.

Callum takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, calming himself. He takes the last couple steps up to Ben and Lexi and peers at her drawing.

“That’s really good, Lex,” he tells her. She mumbles ‘thanks’ but doesn’t let him distract her. Ben on the other hand looks up at Callum and smiles brightly. It’s a gorgeous smile that makes his heart beat faster. Callum smiles back.

~*~~*~

When Lexi has drawn enough animals and interesting things for her homework, they head to the Hollyhock Café. It’s a vegan/ vegetarian fair-trade café and even though Callum loves meat, he doesn’t mind trying out new things. Ben isn’t happy about it, though, but he’ll have to deal with it. Lexi loves it immediately. She keeps saying how cute it looks.

The café itself isn’t very big, but it looks cosy. Callum heads inside with Lexi to order, leaving Ben outside to find them an empty table. Lexi wants a chocolate cake, Callum orders himself a pistachio and berry cake. And even though Ben had grumbled about the café choice, they get him a brownie.

Lexi helps Callum carry the cakes; he takes the tray with tea. They quickly find Ben.

“This is for you, daddy.” Lexi hands Ben the brownie. “You were a little whingy, but Callum said you still deserve something sweet.” She puts her own cake down and takes a seat. Ben gapes at her and shakes his head. He turns to Callum.

“Did you tell her to say that?”

“Didn’t have to. She heard you whinging, it’s not my fault.” Callum scrunches his face at Ben and sticks out his tongue. It startles a full-belly laugh out of Ben. Lexi giggles and starts eating her cake.

Now that he’s realised how he feels, Callum can’t stop looking at Ben. He really can be oblivious at times and it makes him laugh that it’s taken him this long to understand his own feelings. But then again, he’s never been very bright when it came to emotions. It had been Chris who’d made the first move. Callum wonders what would have happened, had Chris not talked to him that fateful day. He sighs.

“You okay?” Ben is looking at Callum questioningly.

“Yeah, just a lot on my mind.” Callum tells him. “Oh, you have bit of cake there-.” Callum gestures to his own lips. Ben tries licking it away, but Callum only shakes his head, laughing.

“Here, let me,” he says and swipes at Ben’s lower lip with his fingers. Ben freezes, barely breathing. Callum realises what he’s doing and stiffens with his hand still on Ben’s face.

And suddenly the air around them is charged again. Callum feels himself being pulled towards Ben. He watches himself helplessly, like it’s happening to someone else. They’re close now, Callum can feel Ben’s heated breath on his face. He licks his lips.

“Are you gonna kiss now?” Lexi asks and the spell is broken. Callum pulls back, embarrassed. He can’t look at Ben. He feels like he was about to do something really stupid.

“No, darling. Callum was just helping me clean up. I made a mess when I was eating my brownie.” Ben’s voice sounds restrained, his excuse weak, but Lexi accepts it.

“You should be careful, daddy,” she says proudly. “Look at me, all clean.”

When Callum looks at her, she has a chocolate frosting moustache. He can’t help himself; it makes him laugh. How does she say the right thing and make him feel relaxed? He turns to her.

“Come here, little miss. You need cleaning up as well. You’re your daddy’s daughter through and through,” he says fondly, takes a tissue and cleans her up.

When he steals a glance at Ben, Ben is looking down, lost in his thoughts. Callum hopes the near kiss didn’t make him uncomfortable. He sighs inwardly. He guesses he should talk to Ben, explain what’s going on. It’s a good thing Callum will be leaving for home base soon. That way when Ben rejects him, Callum will have training to distract him.

Not soon after, they head out again, making their way home slowly.

~*~~*~

When they get back, Lexi runs to Lola and Jay, telling them excitedly about all the animals they’d seen and how they had yummy cake in a cute café. She babbles like a waterfall and Lola and Jay just nod and hmm at the appropriate times.

Callum can only smile at her. She really is amazing. When he notices Ben standing beside him, he gestures to the kitchen and goes through. Ben follows him, closing the door behind them. Callum takes a deep breath and turns to him.

“I want to talk to you about what happened at the café.” Callum can feel himself flushing. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I didn’t realise what was happening until today, you have to believe me. You’re one of my best mates, that’s why it’s taken me this long to understand my own feelings. I don’t want that to come between us.” Callum knows he’s rattling on, and he wishes he could stop, but it’s like his brain has lost all control over his mouth.

“And I’ll understand if it makes you uneasy and you’d rather not spend any time with me anymore. If you wanted, I could even leave now. I don’t think they’d mind the extra hands at home base.” Callum laughs self-deprecatingly, pulling at his own hair, trying to calm his racing heart. Oh God, he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him. He’s so embarrassed.

Only, apart from being a prattling idiot, he also seems to be blind and oblivious. Because Ben is suddenly standing right in front of him, so close that Callum wonders how and when it happened. But Ben doesn’t give him any time to think, because the next second he is taking Callum’s face in his hands, pulling him down. Right before their lips touch, Ben stops and just breathes against Callum’s lips.

Ben’s eyes are open, and it feels like he’s staring into Callum’s soul. He doesn’t know what Ben’s waiting for, but the tension is killing him. Ben’s lips are so close. Callum just needs to move a tiny bit and… their lips are meeting tenderly for the first time. Callum closes his eyes and sighs. He relaxes, letting go.

Ben’s lips are chipped but oh so soft. And Callum loses himself in their kiss, letting Ben take however much he wants. And Ben is a forceful kisser, changing from soft pecks to demanding access, nipping, biting, taking. Ben kisses the way he lives; he’s a force of nature and Callum loves it.

"This is new,” Lola says, starling them apart. Ben’s pupils are dilated, his lips still wet from their kisses and he’s breathing heavily. It’s such a perfect look for him, Callum can’t help but groan quietly. Ben is looking at him hungrily, like Callum is the answer to all his prayers.

Without turning around, Ben says: “Lo, give us a minute.” His voice is hoarse, and just knowing that he’s responsible for that turns on Callum even more.

“Hey, this is my home, too, you know,” Lola protests.

“Lo! I said a minute!” Ben presses. From the corner of his eye Callum sees her turning around and closing the door, mumbling to herself something about horny teenagers. But Ben is already on him again, kissing him.

Callum lets him for a heartbeat, for two, loving that Ben is just into this as he is, but they’re not alone. And someone has to be responsible. He pulls himself away reluctantly, keeping his hands still on Ben.

“Ben, Ben! Come on, stop!” Callum tries. Ben whines, trying to pull Callum into another kiss. Callum lets go and steps away from him.

“Hey, hey!” He pulls his hands up. “Believe me, I’d rather be kissing you as well, but your family is out there, and we can’t just hog the kitchen.” Ben wants to protest, but Callum goes on. “We can continue what we’ve started here, later tonight.” He promises.

“Okay,” Ben sighs, closing his eyes. “I’ll hold you to that promise.” He takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes again, he’s calm, collected. His tousled hair is telling an entirely different story.

Callum feels his heart ache again, filling with longing and love. He steps closer to Ben, Ben’s eyes following his every move.

“Your hair is all over the place,” Callum says softly. He runs his hand through Ben’s hair a couple times until he’s happy with the result.

Ben sighs into Callum’s touch. He smiles up at him fondly. Callum smiles back, pecks him on the lips one last time and turns Ben to the door.

When they emerge out of the kitchen, Lola and Jay stop their conversation, turning to them abruptly. Lexi is nowhere to be found, probably washing up.

They’re both grinning, Lola moving her eyebrows ridiculously. Callum shakes his head, still smiling.

“So?” Jay asks.

“You know,” Ben says, shrugging. “It’s something.” Callum nods along, he’s happy to let him take the lead.

Lola and Jay protest at the same time, talking over each other, wanting more details.

Ben shrugs again, turning to look at Callum. “We haven’t had a proper talk yet.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you started making out,” Lola throws in. Ben mock-glares at her. She just grins cheekily.

“Anyway, what are we doing?” Ben changes the subject, making Callum sigh in relief. He likes Jay and Lola but he’s not ready to talk about this with them. He wants a quiet moment with Ben. He wants to know what Ben is feeling. Because as nice as kissing him was, Ben hasn’t said much.

The other two groan at that, rolling their eyes. But they accept that Ben and Callum are not ready to talk, and Callum is grateful that Ben has such a fantastic family.

~*~~*~

They finally call it a night after dinner and games. Callum takes his time, waits until Lexi is settled and asleep, and Lola and Jay have retired to their own room, before he slowly goes upstairs. He doesn’t know what to expect. He’s excited, but also nervous, biting his lips over and over again.

When he opens the door to his room, Ben is sitting on his bed. Callum is surprised, but he was hoping Ben would be here. He smiles at Ben shyly and closes the door quietly after entering.

Callum stays by the boor, needing space between them. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if he’s too close to Ben and they definitely need to talk before this goes any further. Not that either of them is talking. Callum sighs, looking down. He licks his lips and they feel sore. No wonder, he thinks, first Ben had bitten them and now Callum in his anxiety.

“I guess we should talk,” Ben says, startling him.

“Yeah.” Callum nods.

“What you said in the kitchen,” Ben begins, and Callum looks up at him. “Did you mean it?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah. Yes, I mean it. I-” Callum swallows. “I’m in love with you. Sometimes I’m slow when it comes to feelings, that’s why it took me this long to realise. I can’t tell you how and when it happened, only that it is the truth.” Callum pauses, trying to bring order to his thoughts.

“I was so afraid when we were ambushed and you got hurt. I was sick with worry. And when they finally told us you’d make it through, that you’d live, I locked myself in my bathroom and cried. I was afraid I’d lose you just as I lost Chris and-” Callum stops, his throat closing up. He hates those memories of Ben getting hurt.

“You know the nightmares? They-they’re about you getting shot, but there is something different every time. Sometimes we don’t get to you in time and you bleed out in front of us, or you don’t make it through surgery. Or worst of all, you die in my arms because they can’t find us in time. And I just-” Callum’s feelings overwhelm him, and he starts crying quietly, his whole body shaking. This was not how he’d pictured this night would go. And yet, here they are.

In an instant Ben is with him and taking Callum in his arms. Callum tries to resist, but having Ben here, alive, it’s the only comfort he wants and needs, so he clings to Ben and lets the tears fall.

When it feels like he has no tears left to cry, Callum finally calms down, with Ben caressing his back and whispering how he’s fine and that he’s not leaving. Callum gingerly extricates himself from Ben, laughing sheepishly. He can’t look at Ben.

“I’m sorry for being such a mess. I know this wasn’t how you wanted tonight to go.”

“Callum, look at me,” Ben pleads. Callum hesitantly looks at him.

“Tonight is supposed to be about us, you and me. And if that means we spend it talking, I’m alright with that. I mean, sure, I wouldn’t mind kissing you again or having you naked on my bed. Who would, honestly?!” He leers at Callum, making him giggle and roll his eyes.

“That’s better,” Ben smiles at him. “But I just want you to be okay. I didn’t know you were struggling with what happened. Why didn’t you tell me sooner? You know I’m seeing that therapist. We could have tried getting you an appointment there as well. Or you could have come with me to one of my sessions. Did you-did you not trust me?” He asks quietly, as if fearing Callum’s answer.

“Ben, no,” Callum insists. “I told you I’m not good with emotions. I just need more time to process and understand my feelings compared to other people. I think once I would have realised what was going on, I would have come to you. It’s just that realising both – my feelings for you and about the ambush – happened at the same time.” He shrugs.

“You have to believe me, Ben. You’re the first person I want to talk when something happens. Why do you think I sent you so many emails? I wanted to talk to my best friend, I missed having you around, joking with you. When you were gone, I felt like I was missing a part of me. I know that now. Back then I knew something wasn’t right, I just couldn’t place the feeling. And I didn’t feel comfortable enough to talk to any of the other guys. You’re that person for me.” He shrugs, biting his lips. Ben smiles at him.

“You should know,” Ben starts after they’ve been quiet for a while. “For me, the best thing about the army was meeting you. You know why I enlisted, how messed up I was. The army gave me purpose when I was lost, but you were the game changer. I saw you one day at the training camp, you were talking to some guys and your smile, it was so bright and open. Seeing you like that loosened something in me and I wanted to get to know you.” Closing his eyes, Ben laughs. Turning to the bed, he sits down.

“Only, when you arrived, I’d already got my reputation as a ‘hard man’. And no matter what I tried I couldn’t get you alone. You didn’t even realise, did you?” He asks and Callum shakes his head.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Here I was, trying to get your attention and failing. It drove me crazy. But then I bumped into your friend and suddenly you’re between us, trying to protect him. It was unexpected. You know, had it been anybody else interfering, I’d have decked them.”

“Yeah,” Callum nods, remembers being surprised at Ben’s non-reaction.

“A couple days later I caught you kissing Chris.” Ben goes on. “I was so furious with myself. Of course, you already had someone in your life. And from what I knew, Chris was a good one, well-liked by a lot of people. How could you even look at me when you were with him?” Ben shakes his head, he’s quiet for a moment.

“It’s funny you should mention that kiss, you know.” Callum interrupts the silence.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, because that never would have happened, had it not been for you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” Callum continues. “After that ‘near fight’ in the dining hall, Chris told me you liked me. I didn’t see it.” He laughs, gestures at himself. “You know, slow.” He rolls his eyes. “So, I told him he was more my type and that’s how things got started with him. Because of you, I got to experience love, even if it was for a short time. So, thank you.”

“Yeah, a regular matchmaker, me.” Ben looks at Callum, smiling. “I think it was fate that we met again, this time around. My unit had just arrived in Kandahar and they told me someone named Highway would come by to show us the base. I was shocked when I heard your name. And normally, I’d have sent one of my men to get you when you didn’t turn up in time. But the possibility of it being really you was too tempting. I had to see for myself. And I didn’t want that first glance of you in front of the others. I wanted it to be mine alone.” He laughs at himself. Callum’s heart aches for Ben.

“When I saw you in that kitchen, lumping around dishes, all on your own. It was like I could breathe again, freely, for the first time in ages. I hadn’t looked for you and yet there you were. A gift from the universe. At least that’s how it felt.” He shrugs, taking a moment to breathe in deeply.

“I was honestly content just being your friend. It felt like I’d been given another chance to have you in my life and I would have done anything to keep you.”

“But then I found out you were single, and my treacherous heart began to hope again. I didn’t want to, because I could see you were in pain and you didn’t wanna talk about it. I respected that, not having been able to talk about Paul myself.” Ben stops, licking his lips.

“But then I’d see you look at me and that hope would flare up again.” He grimaces. “It was so confusing.”

In two steps, Callum is at Ben’s side, kneeling in front of him. He takes Ben’s face in his hands, making Ben look at him.

“I’m sorry I caused you pain. And I’d take it all away if I could. But we’re both here, feeling the same way about each other. At least I hope that we are.” Ben nods slowly.

“It’s not your fault I fell for an idiot, is it?” Ben says, grinning at Callum. Callum is about to nod when he realises what Ben’s said.

“Hey!” He claps Ben on the shoulder. “Who you calling an idiot?”

“You! But you’re my idiot, ain’t ya?” Ben is grinning.

“Yeah, I’m yours,” Callum says softly, closing the gap between them and finally kissing Ben again. He knows they’ve got much more to talk about, but he can’t deal with any more heartache for the night.

He nudges Ben further on the bed and climbs on his lap, putting his arms around his neck.

“I’m not crushing you, am I?” He whispers in Ben’s ear. He feels Ben shiver.

“No, no, you’re good.” Ben sighs, kissing along Callum’s neck, making him groan in return.

“Okay, that’s good. Yeah, good,” Callum hums, pushing Ben on his back and getting lost in him.

~*~~*~

Callum slowly opens his eyes, feeling disoriented. But it’s early morning, he can see the navy-blue melting into a burning red, turning the sky into a watercolour painting from the window. He tries to turn, but there is something heavy lying on his chest. That’s when he remembers yesterday, his talk with Ben and what they’d done afterwards. Callum smiles contently.

Looking at Ben now, you’d never know how mouthy and demanding he can be. He looks peaceful in his sleep, his hair fluffy, his face nuzzled into Callum’s chest.

The sex last night had been intense, his body aches in places he didn’t know was possible. He’d hesitated for a moment when he’d pulled off Ben’s shirt and seen his wound. It had healed, no more stitches to be seen. But Callum had wanted to be careful.

“Does it hurt?” He’d asked. Ben had shaken his head.

“Can-can I touch it?” Ben had nodded and Callum had touched the wound softly, almost reverently. Such a small thing with such big consequences. He’d kissed it tenderly. Callum had been hyperaware not to hurt Ben, but Ben hat pushed him, biting and scratching at him.

“I’m not made of glass, don’t treat me like I’m going to break,” he’d said, and he’d let Callum take as much as he wanted, encouraging him. Whispering filthy things in his ear. Callum shivers just thinking about it. He wants to do it all over again, wants to get lost in Ben.

He can feel Ben stirring and when Callum looks down at him, Ben is blinking blearily, trying to orient himself.

“Morning,” he mumbles and then remembers Ben’s hearing aid. He wants to lean over to the bedside table, but Ben stops him with a kiss. He leans over himself and puts his aid in. He snuggles back into Callum, kissing his chest tenderly. Callum kisses Ben’s head and lets his hand wander on Ben’s naked back, tracing random patterns.

“This is nice,” Callum says into the silence.

“Hmm, yes,” Ben murmurs. “I missed this, you know. Just lying together, holding someone… Can we stay like this for a while?”

“As long as you want!” Callum holds on tighter to Ben, whispering I got you over and over again.

~*~~*~

The next couple days are like a dream. The giggling, the kissing, the touching. And the sex! They can’t keep their hands off each other, disappearing whenever they can get away with it, only to return looking dishevelled, with rosy cheeks and bitten lips.

Callum hasn’t been this happy in forever, and he wants nothing more than to stay with Ben. But Callum knows he can’t. He has to report back to home base tomorrow. Now that he knows there is a good chance of Ben never returning to active duty, Callum dreads going back. Not that they’re in the same unit, but Callum could have asked for a transfer.

But things are different now and his mind has been running a mile a minute, trying to come up with a way they can be together. Worst case is, Ben can’t go back to the army because of his ear. And as much as Callum loves the army, he loves Ben more. So, there is only one way this can go.

~*~~*~

They’re both pleasantly sore, lying in Ben’s bed. It’s their last night together. Callum wants to burn every little thing about this night into his mind, to keep it safe for when he’s away. He wants to remember the feeling of Ben’s callused fingers on his thighs, Ben’s soft lips on his chest, the tickle of Ben’s beard on his throat.

Too soon Callum will have to leave, say goodbye to Lexi, promising her that he’ll write her as often as he can.

God, he doesn’t want to leave them.

Callum’s hand is playing with Ben’s hair, running through it, only to smooth it out again. He can’t help it, everything about Ben is tempting Callum to touch him. And Callum is only too glad to give in.

“I’m gonna miss this,” Ben murmurs into Callum’s chest.

Callum stills. Just like Callum, Ben had ignored the fast approaching end of Callum’s holiday. This is the first time he acknowledges it.

“Yeah, me too.” He goes on after a moment of silence.

“You know, after I finish my tour, I could quit the army… Come back here?”

Ben freezes, barely breathing. Callum can’t see his face, doesn’t know whether Ben likes the idea or not. He shakes his head.

“No, forget it. It was a stupid idea.” He wants to detangle himself from Ben, but Ben stops him with a hand on his chest.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, Callum.” Ben is still not looking at him. “Don’t give me hope only to never return. I couldn’t handle that.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it. These past few weeks with you, with Lexi. It’s what I want.” Ben wants to protest. “No, Ben. Meeting you and Lexi, it changed things for me. You know I always wanted to be a soldier. But that was my dream when I was a kid. People grow up, priorities change. And if you let me, I would like to make you my priority. You and Lexi.” Callum feels relieved. Now it’s out in the open and it’s on Ben to decide where things go from here.

Ben moves up, bringing their faces close, his gaze intense. Callum wants to look away, but he knows Ben needs to do this. He looks back steadily.

Finally, Ben nods slowly, a smile breaking lose. He nudges Callum’s nose with his own. “I love you.”

Callum closes the small gap between them, kissing Ben as if his life depended on it.

ONE YEAR LATER – Walford, England

Ben is excited. Callum is finally coming home to him and this time for good. They hadn’t seen each other in six months. Well, six months in person. They’d had a too short video-chat a couple weeks ago, Callum telling him that his deployment was ending soon, only for their connection to fail. Soon after he’d sent an email with details. Yesterday he’d called from home base, saying they’d arrived safely and that he’d be home tomorrow.

Lola and Jay had taken Lexi away for a couple days, giving them the time to reconnect after being separated for so long. He’d thanked them by paying for their trip.

Ben is walking around the house with nervous energy, checking again if they have enough food. He’s stocked up on everything Callum likes. The idea being that they won’t have to leave the house if they don’t want to.

A picture on the mantel piece catches his eye. Ben remembers the day it was taken vividly. The army medics had finally told him his hearing wouldn’t return, making him unfit for active duty. It had been difficult for him, but Lexi had been happy that her daddy would never go away again. His mum had hugged him, crying that Ben getting shot had been some sort of blessing. The picture shows him hugging Lexi and his mum that day. It makes him smile.

Now Ben is running his own business, he’s selling cars. It’s not the most glamourous job, but he enjoys it. And he doesn’t have to commute, with the car lot being right here in Walford, not five minutes from Ben’s home.

Callum hadn’t made any plans about what he wanted to do after the army, yet. But after Ben had got shot, he’d changed careers in the army and trained as a medic.

Ben thinks he might complete his training and become a paramedic, but he doesn’t want to pressure Callum. He thinks it would suit him, though. Callum is good under pressure, keeps calm.

The back door opening startles Ben, he puts down the picture frame and looks up. It’s Callum, he’s finally home. It takes Ben’s breath away, seeing him standing there. He’s missed that gorgeous face, the kind smile. God, that gorgeous smile. His eyes full of love.

Ben runs up to Callum, pulling him down into a kiss. He groans. And he’s missed this. Kissing Callum, tasting him, touching him.

“Where are the others?” Callum asks in between kisses.

“Gone. We’re alone for the next couple days.” Ben moans, he’s even missed Callum’s thick stubble.

Callum’s big hands wander to Ben’s arse, kneading it. He’s kissing Ben down his throat, leaving wet traces.

“Callum, please! I need-.”

“What do you need, Ben? Tell me!” Callum looks down at Ben, his gaze intense. Ben loves it when Callum takes charge.

“You. I need you!”

Callum attacks his lips, pulling Ben to the sofa. Ben goes willingly.

#bvd20 #ballum secret valentine #ben x callum #eastenders #ballum #fanfic

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Barely Alive (Chris Evans) (Pt. 2)

PART 1

Characters: Chris Evans x fem!reader

Summary: A zombie apocalypse happened on earth. You've decided to do something impulsive which will lead you into a life or death situation. But despite that, an unexpected savior came to rescue you and he was far more scared for your life than his. (Part 2)

Warnings: Reader is the same age as Tom Holland, but she's legal. Don't go pointing at me like I've created some sin yo. (Pls don't look at my Sebastian Stan oneshots 18+ hehehe 😅) I've read some rumour about H.C dating a 19 year old back then but I'm not sure if it's true. 😂

Words: 2,800+

A/N: I have no idea why I love writing this. Maybe because I love Resident Evil? Anyways, this is only PART 2 and there's going to be part 3. 😊 FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! 

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi.

Dedicated: @readermia​ @mcuclintasha​ @itsallyscorner​

The drive back took only minutes. Once the truck stopped inside the huge factory, Chris had swiftly scooped you in his arms. People came stalking towards the car, surrounding the truck as known faces came in view. The man who was holding you had his heart beating so fast, too rapid even though he wasn't even running. "Is that--" The other Chris intervened, Chris Pratt to be specific. His green eyes bulged out of his eye sockets as he saw Y/N in his arms, all bloody and weak.

"She needs help!" The latter helplessly worded out, entirely shaken from your bruised form as he quickly strolled towards the part of the factory where there were sets of hospital beds. "Ch-Chris," You finally managed to hush a whisper, it was too faint to hear but Chris was too focused on you and so he heard. "I'm here," he panted, heartbeat thumping so fast. The constant worry unconsciously travelling towards his eyes which began to fill with tears. He was trying not to, so he kept on swallowing the jitters. "I'm not leaving your side," whispered the man who gently dropped you on the soft, white bed.

Your pained moans started to come as you felt his warmth gone in just a flash. You couldn't form a word nor any sentences that everything was starting to hurt again and it was too excruciating to begin with. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm here, everything's going to be just fine," Chris choked, hasty eyes finding someone for help and he saw Zoe came rushing to his side, asking what happened and what was wrong.

"She was ambushed by men, four were killed by her. Yet, Caesar had her on the ropes," he uttered pointedly, biting his lower lip in apprehension. He felt Y/N moan another painful one. Instinctively, he reached out his hand to grab onto her hand that wasn't bruised, caressing the pad of his thumb on top of hers to let her know that he was there for her.

It was obvious that Zoe would've seen it, and she did. But, she'd rather not acknowledge it. Chris wouldn't dare be in love with a girl half his age, plus the fact that she had a boyfriend would he?

"Caesar? Caesar Brown?" Zoe subtly shook her head, maneuvering towards the other side of the bed as she began taking care of Y/N. "He's dead, already dead." The latter swallowed a lump down his throat, peering down at the bruised woman. An ache forming inside his heart that began to fill with dread. "Shot to the head," he said almost straight to the point that it sounded remotely restrained.

"By who?" Zoe inserted a needle that made Y/N silently moan, a tear escaping the sides of her eyes in which Chris immediately wiped.

"Me,"

His sympathetic friend stopped in her tracks as she was grabbing a cotton ball, her back facing him. Well, killing wasn't new to the world especially when they were in a middle of a zombie apocalypse. Though, what was bemusing her was from the moment her friend knew Y/N went east to grab some resupplies, he immediately flew out of the base despite of how many people didn't want to come. Nobody wanted to be with Y/N because there was no possibility that there were no infected. The fact that not even her own boyfriend, 'William' stood by her side when she went on her own was like a death wish or an ambush by the infected.

Nonetheless, to her surprise she was actually ambushed by nasty people.

Chris didn't know a thing about her impulsive plan because he went west with the gang to find more survivors. Once he came back and knew Y/N was all alone grabbing resupplies with no back-up, he went completely berserk as there were hundreds of bad outcomes inside his head that will make him regret living in the world they were in.

Thus, he didn't risk it. He'd rather risk his life just for her. As for Zoe's understanding with how he was acting since a month ago, he was acting strange that even his ex-girlfriend who was with them came to notice.

He was always with Y/N. Where Y/N was, he was also there. When he was asked why he was being too overprotective of her, his answer could always make them nod because it seems like he was telling the truth.

"She's like a baby sister to me. Nothing more, nothing less."  

Yet, his actions tell otherwise.

"Please, Zoe. Please, I need you to help her, please..She's..just...please, help her." Chris begged, washing his face with his hands in frustration as he stared in nothingness. Avoiding the state where Y/N was in, appearing to feel like he was hurting to see her in pain.

He was confused and Zoe knew deep inside it was his heart who was in a puzzle and that was the truth.

"Alright, I'll do my best, Chris."

Days have passed and Y/N still hasn't woken up. Those days that he felt like she was barely alive was horribly agonizing for him that he felt like his days weren't normal without hearing her hideous laugh and seeing her youthful smiles. His days went by like he felt as if he wasn't awake. He felt horrible that he hadn't been back before she has made that sudden decision that not everybody supported.

He felt like his head was floating as it ached at the same time while he was explaining tactics and opinions to certain people who were gathered up in the middle of a room with chairs, tables, papers, maps and radios. "We head to Maryland," Chris suddenly paused, sighing deep as he stood in the middle of the room, a table and map flat in front of him. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight to his other foot as another shock of headache visited him, making him tightly shut his eyes.  

"Chris," Robert interrupted, analyzing what was happening to him. "You don't look too good," his friend stated as a matter of fact.

"I'm fine," Chris muttered more to himself, shaking his head to clear the head ache away. "So, where were we?"

"Maryland," Paul and Dave spoke at the same time with worried smiles on their faces. The latter nodded at that and tried to remember what he wanted to say before he was interrupted by his own head ache, but nothing. He remembered nothing as his thoughts were drifted to you who was currently in a coma.

"Ah, shit." he shook his head in disappointment before speaking an apology as he deeply sighed, a tight frown plastered on his face while he spun on his heels and left the room in which the team was definitely not used to besides his outgoing personality and large smiles that can get any human infected. Even Y/N.

The team looked at each other with knowing faces and bewildered eyes.

You were moved to a much safer room inside the factory where a hospital bed lays for you. In request by Chris, of course.

His frown tightened even more when he ended up leaning against the door to your room, watching you sleep, entirely motionless and his heart could feel the pricks of dread creep onto his heart for the hundredth time. He was feeling completely down in the dumps since you haven't woken up and it was tearing him apart.

(Just imagine him with the beard first, he’ll get to shave it soon. Hehehe)

"Dorito," Anthony revealed himself and appeared to walk beside him. A solemn look on his face. "You okay, man?"

It took a second for his friend to reply, "It's been three days," he lowly uttered, swallowing the sadness away, his melancholic blue eyes fixated on your form with his eyebrows cinched tight together. "She hasn't woken up since the last three days and I don't know if she will,"

"And you haven't taken at least one decent meal since the day it happened," his friend said with utmost concern. Anthony glance back to where people were encircled around a lit up bonfire. Y/N's boyfriend looking like he was having the best night of his life as he chugged on some beer while talking to some brunette lass. "You look more worried than William over there," he gestured to the back.

"Psh," Chris suddenly reacted, giving no attention to Y/N's boyfriend because as he was walking towards her room, he saw how her lover was coping up to her coma. He was enjoying.

"What kind of boyfriend even is he?" said Chris as he shook his head in disdain as he continued to state a fact. "You know your girlfriend's over here in a coma and he hasn't even visited her," the man mindlessly spat, sounding in much seeth.

"He did," Anthony butted in with a small grin. Remembering the day he saw William visit Y/N for five minutes and never came back. "But, it was only one time!" said the latter who was too irked to even talk about it.

"Kid was telling me he was scared to see her almost close to dying,"

"The kid's an asshat," Chris stated with a raise of his brow, folding his arms against his chest. "Woah, woah. Chris, you sound like a jealous man," There was no doubt, a little tone of mockery in his words. The latter huffed to himself as his eyes continued to gaze at your unmoving form.

"You sure you only see her as your baby sister?"

Chris continued to scowl as he was hearing him out. "What if you actually see yourself as her dad?" Anthony added with a huge grin that made him give him the stink eye.

"I sure as hell don't see you looking at her like she's your baby sister," His friend interrogated him as he was just stating the obvious. Chris couldn't say anything back. "You look at her very differently than you look at your real sisters," Anthony paused, lightly shoving Chris's shoulder to enlighten him. "Everybody knows how you look at her,"

"How do I even look at her, Anthony?" questioned Chris in curiosity. His eyes completely unreadable. Definitely blank. He was an actor after all. "You give her the look whenever the Russo's shout action as Steve Rogers stares at Peggy Carter," his friend trailed off.

"I know she's young and all, but she's legal and I don't see anything wrong about it--" Anthony added for Chris, smirking in the process as a thought came in mind. "--That didn't stop Henry Cavill from dating a 19 year old woman back then,"

Chris couldn't help a snicker leave his cherry red lips, "Stop before he hears you," he quietly chortled. Shaking his head at his friend's abrupt theories. "As I was saying," added Anthony with a nod. "Know your priorities, follow your heart because it's already the end of the world, Dude."

"--I thought Resident Evil or the Walking dead wasn't real, but here we are."

There was a sudden silence that wrapped them both together. Their gazes fixated on you who seemed to be barely alive from your lack of presence. No matter what Chris does in his everyday life, he couldn't get to push himself harder because of the reality that you were facing.

He couldn't accept that maybe it was because of him. You got hurt because he wasn't around.

"Try and think about your feelings and stop being serious like Steve Rogers. It's freaking me out, "

Feelings. All Chris felt was platonic. In his head, he knows his actions meant nothing. It was neither romantic nor sexual. Yet, to some of his close friends or family knew his heart says otherwise.

"Anthony, I'm not in love with her," His forehead creased a little too deeply at his sudden confession. His heart feeling as if it began to drop more stones on top of it.

"Sureeee, Christopher." bantered Anthony, his voice entirely full of contempt. "You know, you're too old to be an indenial boy already."

The guilty man huffed at the back of his mind as he tightly bit his lip to refrain from saying anything more. His words earlier seem like it wasn't right. It feels as if he made himself more frustrated and overwrought. He anxiously bit the underside of his own lips as he blankly stared out of nowhere, seeming to be in too deep inside his thoughts.

To catch his friend's attention, Anthony managed to tap his shoulder to rip him off from drifting into another world.

"So, what's the deal for tomorrow?"

Chris did a double-take, his expression solemn as he was staring straight at your motionless body laying peacefully on top of the hospital bed. He subtly cleared his throat, eyebrows knotted in a twist.

"We head to Maryland, bring back survivors since Scarlett had evidences that there are atleast thirty of them. Some are kids. Some are already suffering from starvation. We might need tons of back-up because the place can be a trap. Lots of infected come by there every now and then as it was said by Hiddleston. We need to take risks,"

Anthony kept his eyes fixated on his friend. A small grin plastered on his face as it reached from ear to ear. "Noted, Cap."

"Shut it, Ant." he playfully spat with another shake of his head. Chest puffed up and arms folded together.

"Stop being an indenial bitch before it's too late,"

"I told you, I can only see her as--"

Anthony interrupted his sentence like he knew what he was about to say next, "--my baby sister, nothing more. Nothing less. Alright, alright. I'll leave you to it,"

Chris seemed to drift off somewhere after a minute or two. His thoughts suddenly were in a haywire just by looking at you and it was frustrating him why he was feeling stressed because of everything.

It's not like living in a zombie apocalypse wasn't as stressful as before.

Anthony gave Chris a manly pat on his back, turning around his heels with a smile. "I've managed to sneak up a stack of Heineken when we were back at that abandoned mall. Caesar and his friends had it,"

Chris had his eyes solely on you, his lively blue eyes now filled with dread and uncertainty. Staring at every bruise on every parts of your body and cursing the heavens why Caesar had found you vulnerable to the point that he wanted to dominate you into demise.

Chris wasn't in love with you. No. It was impossible.

Anthony's laugh pulled him off his head space. His next words making him lift a small smile on  his face.

"You're free to chug it all down, man."

Ya’ like it? GO REBLOG AND GIVE THIS POST A HEART! Heehee!

XOXO, TATA

#chris evans oneshot #chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #steve rogers #part 2 #mcu imagine #mcu oneshots #mcu #zombie apocalypse #Sebastian Stan Oneshots #christopher robert evans #marvel cast #marvel imagines #marvel #seb-owns-these-tatas #tatasmasterlist #seb owns these tatas #tatasworks

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 30: Club S

Lu opened the door for me. He’d cleaned up the living room. Everything smelled nice. He was still in his Cassell uniform. “Make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Just water is fine. Have you swept this place for bugs? I don’t trust, Fingel.”

“I wouldn’t ordinarily… But Johann came over and got him and dragged him off for some reason. We’re probably good if he’s keeping him busy.” He raised a pitcher and poured me a glass of water.

“Wow, water with lemon? You’re pulling out all the stops for me today.”

“Well, I really… appreciate this day… I have a lot to get off  my chest and I’m sure you do too.”

I accepted the water and he sat next to me, throwing one arm over the couch. “Do you wanna start or…?”

“You go first… you’re my senior.”

Master List

He took a deep breath, his eyes growing distant. He then turned to me. “When I first came here, I was just like you. I had no idea what the hell…” His smile appeared and died as soon as it did. “I came in as they were in the middle of Day of Liberty.  They were using bullets with that red stuff that freaked you out, remember?”

I quickly swallowed my sip of water, eyes wide. 

“I thought everyone was dying around me. I saw Nono get shot and… I lost it.” He turned away, licking his lips. “I took the first gun next to me… and I just shot the person who shot her. Took her gun and blew both Caesar and Johann away.”

I was frozen in shock. “You tried to kill them?” I whispered.

“Oh yeah, I was serious. I don’t think… well, maybe Johann figured but… I don’t think they ever knew how much I wanted them to die at that moment.”

My jaw shook as he watched him run his hand through his hair. “So I know that feeling, you got.” His brown eyes shifted to mine. “With Isaac. And with his friends.”

I started to shake all over. “You knew? You knew this whole time? How?”

“Just a gut feeling. No one feels as sorry as you did over a monster. Isaac’s friends disappeared at the same time as he did. He was never without them. I just put two and two together with my own experiences. The only difference between you and I is that… you were working with live ammunition.”

“So… I wanna start out by saying that.. Even though technically, I didn’t kill your boyfriend… In my mind? I’ve been carrying around that reality where I did. So I understand.”

I buried my face in my hands. He reached over to rub my back. “Carli, we just got started, don’t fall apart yet!” 

My sobbing was so loud that I’m sure someone heard it. Someone had to. I pulled my knees up to my face and rocked back and forth.

“Shit.” He wrapped his arms around me and held me close. “Shh… come on… It’s okay. I know you’ve been carrying that around with you all this time… same as me. I get it.”

I couldn’t stop no matter how much I wanted to. His gentle, kind and sincere understanding just made it worse. I had no idea how I would ever stop crying now. Just looking at him, his tears, set me off again. But he didn’t panic. In fact, he smiled a little.

“Sometimes, I wish I could cry like you.”

It was exhausting.

He again chuckled. “So that’s one…” 

I couldn’t help but laugh with him, even though it sounded more like another breathless sob.

“Ready for number two?”

“I don’t know… is it worse?” I looked at him, “Seriously?”

“I ...Maybe? Maybe worse for me.” He stood up and left to go to his bedroom. While he was gone I covered my face again, trying to get a hold of my breathing. But trying to calm down just made me sad again.

He came back with a small cardboard box that said “Baseball cards” on it. “These aren’t baseball cards.”

He opened it up. He pulled out a picture. “This is Ronald Tang. We played Starcraft together a lot. He went to Cassell.”

The person looked to be in his thirties with auburn hair and a friendly smile. “He looks really nice.”

“He was a dragon. I didn’t know it… he didn’t know either.”

“He… he looks like a normal person.” I looked up at him in confusion.

“Dragons can take the shape of humans. They often do. It’s part of how they escape detection. He was part of a set of twins in an egg that hatched under Three Gorges Dam in China. When they discovered the egg and brought it here, Old Tang got exposed to it, regained his memories and turned into Norton.”

“He’s Norton?!” He wasn’t just a dragon. He was one of the Four Lords! My memories of the ballet I performed rushed back to me. The fiery red costume of the Lord of Bronze and Fire was always a hit with audiences.

“Was.”

That single word brought me back to reality.

“By the time I realized that it was him. I’d already…” He hung his head. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Anjou knew. Because he was a student.” He massaged his temple. “No one else does. I didn’t have a chance to even try to save him. My friends were in danger and I just thought… I have to kill this dragon. So...”

“This is… Xiao Mi… or Shavee as we called her some times.” He pulled out another picture. “Johann really liked her. But…”

“She was a dragon…” I finished the sentence. “The second dragon lord you killed. The one that almost killed Johann… I recognize her face from the vision...”

“What vision?”

He handed me the picture when I reached for it. “When I was dying on the mountainside. I saw your memories. I … saw what she did to him.”

“What?” His face contorted with confusion. 

“I don’t quite understand it either, but it was like… our souls were speaking to each other.” I stared at the picture.

He looked at the far wall. “Oh… okay.”

“I wanted to stay dead. You didn’t let me. When I woke up. My wounds had healed.” I looked up at him.

He was nervously chuckling and stammered. “Wow! I uh… I wasn’t exactly… planning on telling you that.”

“Your dragon gift? That was it, wasn’t it? You just told me not to die… and I didn’t.” I shook my head. “Why don’t you use that more often?”

“Because of blowback.” He replied. “There’s a principle in dragon gifts that, the higher level the skill is, the more likely consequences will blow back into your face. Nono’s skills are very high. I have never seen her use them. She’s afraid to.”

“The consequences are worse than death?” I asked.

“Probably not. So… you must have really been about to die for me to use it. I don’t… I don’t even remember.”  He stared into space.

“You… didn’t trade a quarter of your life for me… did you?”

“AH! How do you know about that?!” He clutched the sides of his head, completely mortified.

“I had visions I said! Some kid told me you had to give up a quarter of you- Mmf!” He covered my mouth with his hand.

“SHH!” 

There were voices in the hall. He sat still until they receded. “Okay…” He pressed his palms together in front of his face. “Okay… Don’t… EVER mention that again. Okay? Not even between us. I cannot afford anyone to know.”

He turned from me and leaned his elbows against his knees, rubbing his face with his hands. I chewed my lip. “If they found out… I would never be allowed on these missions again. And my friends would absolutely die. Nono almost died, Caesar almost died… Johann… if I hadn’t traded my life, they wouldn’t be here.” He took a deep breath and let it out. “Oh… no…”

“What?” My hands were balled into shaking fists in my lap.

“Why did he even talk to you?”

“You were unconscious. It was the only way we were getting out.”

“Nobody was supposed to know that. It’s not your fault. He just… blew our cover. Thanks… jerk…” He grumbled.

My whole body was humming with stress and anxiety. I was getting a headache. “I think maybe we should stop…”

“Yeah I agree. Pizza should be here any minute.” He rested his chin on his hand. “You look like a mess.”

“I am a mess.”

He took a breath. “I’m sorry … about your mom.”

“You had to… Or I would have…” I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “I’m not one hundred percent certain it was really her …”

He expression didn’t change. “Yeah, you are.”

I settled against the couch. “But she… her body...”

“Like I said, dragons can look human. You’re the first direct descendent I’ve ever met. Are you really from thousands of years ago?”

My jaw dropped and I eyed him in confusion. “No my mom’s n…” I stopped myself, gasping.

“You’re a hybrid. Your mom was a dragon. Carli?” He reached over and shook my shoulder. “Hey! Snap out of it!”

It was impossible. My dad was a dragon, not my mom… my mom wasn’t… my eyes were wide and vacant as I remembered. Her yellow eyes bored into my memory. Her claws.

She had claws.

“Snap out of it!”

If my mom was a dragon and my dad was a dragon… then that meant.

“Oh damn it!”

Pain exploded in my head. My hand flew to my cheek. “Owwww!”

“You weren’t breathing! You weren’t breathing.” Mingfei grabbed my shoulders and shook me.

I cringed away. “That really hurt!”

“I’m sorry! I thought you were going to pass out! Johann’s going to kill me.”

“Yeah he is!” I yelled at him. “Especially if that shows up tomorrow, you idiot!”

There was a knock on the door. “Ah geez.” He got up to go get it.

I glanced to the wall. Ielia had appeared. She was making emphatic gestures, shaking her head. 

I nodded in understanding. My mom wasn’t a dragon… and neither was I. Ielia vanished.

He returned to me with the box of pizza and paused. I was still holding my face. “Do you need some ice?”

“You know, I was going to invite you to my club.” I grumbled.

“You started a club?!”

“I said I would! So we can have these conversations. But I’m not going to put up with you knocking me around.”

“Okay… sorry…”

“This isn’t a movie… God…” I slowly started to calm down.

He settled back next to me. “Let me see it.”

I lowered my hand, still grumbling. “If it bruises, it won’t show up for a while… I started the club because I really want to have a safe place to share these things. I think that would be good for you too.”

“I… panicked.” His eyes dulled. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever… forget it.”

“Well… if the offer is still open then… sure. I don’t like Student Union anyway.”

“You’re in the Student Union! When was this?!”

“How did you not know that? I joined a few days after I enrolled!” He laughed, serving me a slice. “Don’t worry, I’m not talking to Caesar about anything we do or say.”

“You spy…” I lightly shoved him. “I wanted you to join so that I could use Norton hall as a base.”

“Wow… are you trying to piss him off?”

“Maybe? He deserves it. I don’t care what anyone else says… he’s responsible for what his club members do.” I took a bite of pizza. 

“No arguments from me there. Well… let’s play games. Street Thug?” He was trying to change the subject.

I chuckled, I would have to let him off the hook. Still massaging my cheek, I nodded. “Yeah… let’s do that.”

#Lu Mingfei #luminous #Johann Chu #Caesar Gattuso #Dragon Raja #Fanfiction #Writing

[mithrilwren]

Body Speak

[Also posted on Ao3!]

After two weeks, the endless silence of the Kryn tunnels starts to take its toll on the Mighty Nein. Beau handles the tension... poorly. 

Or, Beau stress-fucks-up her hair and Yasha fixes it with her expert shaving skills.

--

The barest of slips is all it takes.

The pain never really comes, but the handle of the knife is slick and wet where it was once rough and ash hewn, and Beau curses softly as it pinwheels from her fingers and clatters to the ground at her feet.

She knows her body better than this. It’s easy to blame the slip on the lack of a mirror, or her human eyes – too mundane to help in all this darkness even if she had a mirror – but that’s not an excuse. Beau senses things before they come, can cut a path through blind space and catch the edge of whatever lurks beyond, can fashion handholds with nothing but her fingertips, can be lighter than air and heavier than stone. And apparently tonight she can’t do a half-penny shave as well as any roadside hack with a rusty razor.

It’s frustrating as shit.

Beau feels gingerly at the nape of her neck. She he doesn’t need to taste the fingers to know what they come away wet with but she does anyway. Tastes the iron, lets her thumb drift downward, marks the bottom of her lip with a line of warrior’s paint and for a moment imagines herself strong.A warrior on the battlefield, greatsword in hand, bloodlust in her eyes, and it’s different than all the times her lip’s been bloodied before. Her choice – not her inattention, not her weakness. But the vision fades, and she’s left staring at nothing, hearing nothing.

She swipes the blood from her lip with her tongue before wandering back to their makeshift camp in search of something to press against the cut.

Caleb is on first watch tonight. Beau brushes her hand lightly against his shoulder as she steps into the bubble. A few seconds later his hand finds hers and gives it a couple gentle taps before letting her pass. By all rights he should have told her to stay put in the center of the huddle, safe behind the dim glow of the arcane barrier, but he didn’t say a word as she left. Just let her go right past. She’d been hoping for a snide comment or admonishment. Nothing.

Beau nearly trods on Nott’s hand as she steps into the scant inches between her and Caleb, dances around Caduceus’s softly rumbling form only to stumble over Fjord’s ankle before finally managing to land ungracefully by her bag, nestled in what little space remains between the confines of the bubble and the half-orc’s back.

From within the pack, hidden beneath a tangled mess of hardtack and leather bands and and pouches of ball bearings, she pulls out a wad of spare bandages and presses the whole pile to her shorn scalp. The fabric bites at the wound with a thousand salty teeth, and Beau hisses as the cut begins to burn. Though their clothes are long-dried and the Menagerie Coast is nothing more than a glittering memory, the ocean hasn’t let go of them yet.

She could have waited to deal with her hair till they cleared the tunnels. Once they’re out (if they get out) Jester would have held her little silver mirror and Beau would have had the moonlight to play with and a friend to steady her reflection. Instead, she’s going to be stuck with a half-cropped mess on the back of her head that the whole group can ogle, courtesy of Caleb’s dancing lights and her point guard position. Oh, to be a wizard and hide in the shadowy recesses. In the vanguard there’s no escape from all those eyes on her back, watching...

It doesn’t matter. It’s just a haircut.  Who fucking cares.

Beau presses the bandages in harder. Savours the briny sting.

The next day passes, and nobody says a word about the hair. Nobody says a word about anything. Beau manages to forget the lights at her back, but her hands don’t. They wander up to tug at the twist of hair against her neck, worrying the vague wisp of a curl that tickles her skin and sends spiders crawling between her shoulderblades.

After a few hours their progress disturbs a group of gnolls in an adjacent passageway and Beau finally has a better use for her fingers: curled into tight fists, primed for breaking beaks and pressing nerves and throwing small bodies into the wall until there’s no threat left alive. But when the group pauses to breathe in the wake of the skirmish, her hands are back in her hair, uselessly trying to smooth too-short fuzz up into her topknot. It doesn’t work. She tries anyway.

Another turn in the passageway. Jester pokes at Nott’s shoulder, tries to show her something from her sketchbook. Nott glances briefly but doesn’t comment, doesn’t crack a joke, doesn’t laugh or screech or do anything but stare straight off ahead. She puts one foot in front of the other. Beau does the same. Sometimes it’s good to be in the front. From here, she doesn’t have to watch Jester fail.

It’s been two weeks since they’ve seen the sun. With each step closer to Yeza, Nott’s words got farther between. On the eighth day, she stopped talking altogether. Most of the others followed suit.

The quiet hangs heavier each time they stop to rest. Beau sits with her legs spread and studies the ground, keeps her hands pressed below her thighs. She could ask Jester, someone, for help with her hair, but it feels offensive to break the silence for something so trivial.  

The fifteenth day of travel finds them camping near another subterranean river. The pulse of running water masks the drip of stalactites and the distant burrowing of unknown creatures and Nott still hasn’t spoken a word despite Jester’s soft efforts and Caleb’s worried glances and Beau yanks so hard on what remains of her undercut that tears burn behind her eyes and suddenly there are different fingers on the back of her neck. Beau freezes in place.

“Walk with me.”

The low cadence of Yasha’s voice sinks into Beau’s chest. She could reach behind her if she wanted to, grasp Yasha’s hand and keep it pressed against her skin and let that sink in deeper too, but she hesitates a second too long and the touch is gone and she presses her palms harder into the dirt and forces herself to stand.

Yasha’s face betrays nothing, like always, but the request is far from casual. Fjord looks as though he’s gearing up to protest as they leave the circle of light and Beau knows why, knows the ghost of slavers and icy shards hang in his periphery as often as in hers, but Jester puts a hand on his shoulder and he bites back whatever he was going to say, and Beau wishes he would say it. Yell at them for being reckless. Anything.

Yasha just keeps walking, torch in hand, never slowing her step. There’s nothing for Beau to do but follow.  

She aches to make a joke, some asinine comment or stupid pass to put Yasha off her guard because she doesn’t know where they’re going and she doesn’t know why Yasha asked her to go and there’s a feeling in the pit of her stomach that says she’s about to get her ears boxed for some unknown offence.

But the unformed words die on her lips, and Yasha just keeps walking, and doesn’t explain.

More silence. Beau could scream.

They’ve barely been walking five minutes along the dropoff towards the river before Yasha stops her with one hand, then passes Beau the torch and crouches to the ground. An instant later, she’s gone, swallowed by the darkness and Beau’s heart leaps into her throat before she spots a mismatched pair of eyes peering up at her from below the ridge. “Jump down,” Yasha says. “It’s not very high.”

Beau leaps without looking because if Yasha can do it, so can she. Her foot slips on the wet ground but she catches herself without too much fuss. The small radius of torchlight illuminates the riverbank and a rough alcove in the rock where Yasha waits, holding out her hand. Beau passes her the torch. She shoves a few stones into a makeshift bracket with her foot and places it against the wall, then turns back to Beau and puts her hand out again.

Beau doesn’t know what to give her. After a moment, the fist closes and the hand withdraws.  

Yasha shrugs and pulls her greatsword from its bindings. Its blade is broader than Beau’s thigh, and the line of runes flicker orange and grey in the pale light. It’s almost as fearsome as the woman who wields it. “It’s easier if you sit.”

Yasha’s voice is muffled by the sound of the river, but Beau manages to catch the end of the directive and finally moves forward, stepping into the alcove.

She turns and kneels, facing away from Yasha’s feet, feeling all too much like a rooster offering itself up on the butcher’s slab. Never turn your back on your opponent. Try again. Her hand falls a foot from where the greatsword’s point scrapes softly against the stone.

There’s nothing beyond the circle of torchlight. Just darkness, and darkness, and somewhere past her feet the rush of water she can’t see. And then there’s Yasha behind her. Watching. Seeing every part of Beau – the torn tunic, the bloodstained skin, the mangled mess of her haphazard topknot, the tension in her shoulders and the way she can’t keep her hands still for five damn minutes.

“What are we doing?”

She doesn’t really care if Yasha hears the mumble or not. Doesn’t matter. She’s ready for anything that means not being back in the camp.

She feels the faint shuffle of booted feet through the ground, and then the humming energy of a body crouched behind hers. “Just… fixing things,” comes the slow reply, an inch from Beau’s ear. The edge of a cold blade presses to Beau’s neck. She swallows and squeezes her eyes closed.

A fraction of a second. That’s all it would take to pitch forward out of the sword’s reach. Too slow, Beauregard. Try again. Yasha wouldn’t hurt her, Beau’s sure of it, but people don’t get this close under non-violent circumstances, and her body knows what to do even if she doesn’t, she doesn’t know-

A wide hand clamps down on her shoulder before she can jerk forward and cut herself against the blade. “It’s ok,” Yasha says, “it’s fine,” and she doesn’t sound sure at all, and a small, nervous bubble of laughter bursts up from Beau’s throat. At least she’s not the only one walking the edge here. “Just… let me?”

“Yeah,” says Beau. “Sure. Go for it.” Her voice doesn’t crack. That would be too embarrassing.

The first draw of the blade is feather-light, barely a whisper against the skin above her ear. Beau is sure that nothing happened at all until she feels the tickle of something prickly against her collar bone. With the blade still so close to her throat, she doesn’t dare look down.

Calloused fingers brush against the edge of the shaved line, trailing their way into the longer strands at Beau’s crown. They linger a moment, hesitating, before sweeping the longer hair to one side, leaving the soft wisps along the side exposed.

From a velvet couch in the Lavish Chateau, she watches Marion Lavorre hold her daughter close, her eyes fixed on the hand that slowly smooths Jester’s blue locks, over and over and over. As Jester nuzzles into the touch, the set of Beau’s jaw hardens, just enough to keep the lump in her throat at bay.

She wonders if her mother stays awake at night now, smoothing down soft baby curls and forgetting the eyes of the first child she held to her breast.

Yasha’s touch isn’t motherly, but it’s gentler than any hands that have touched Beau’s hair before. To her mortification, she feels the prickle of tears behind her eyes and she squeezes them shut a little tighter, grinds her palm into the jagged rocks by her knee, breathes through her nose. The blade presses again, closer this time, and more spikes float down onto Beau’s chest. She’ll be as hairy as Caduceus by the time all this is done.

A wilder part of her wants to tell Yasha to cut it all off. Just pull her head back and drag the sword from scalp to nape and be done with it. It would be simpler, wouldn’t it? What’s the point in maintaining vanity in a place like this? She doesn’t care what she looks like. She really doesn’t.

“Forward,” Yasha says, and nudges the base of Beau’s skull with her fingertips. Beau obliges. The next swipe dusts her shoulderblades with more little spikes. Another swipe and the blade comes to rest at the place where Beau gouged herself the first time.

“Nice fuckup, right?” Beau murmurs. “One more scar for the collection.”

The fingers trace the scab that Beau is sure glares angry and red and irritated against her dark skin. “You should have asked for help,” Yasha says finally.

I know, Beau thinks. “Have you met me?” she says.

The fingers disappear and the blade returns, settling right at the apex of the wound. Beau braces for the sting of the cut re-opening, but it doesn’t come. Instead the edge curves in a slow arc, skirting the fringes of the scab with a surgeon’s precision. Beau didn’t know hands that could wield a greatsword with such brutality could be that delicate. For the first time since she felt the cold steel against her throat, her shoulders begin to untense.

The rest of the hair comes down quick. Too quick, and Beau doesn’t want it to end, even though her knees are aching and her feet are halfway to asleep under her. Yasha places the greatsword on the ground. That’s probably Beau’s signal to move, but she stays still. Concentrates on the sound of the river, and the coolness of the stone, and Yasha’s warm presence at her back. It’s quiet here, but at least there’s a purpose to the silence.

Maybe this was her problem all along. Her teachers always told her meditation was best done alone, but she’s never felt quite so connected to her body as with Yasha’s fingers in her hair.

When Yasha settles from her crouch to sit behind her, she feels it through the ground and the air and the singing of her skin. Her scalp crackles when the hands return to her hair. Everyone gives off some energy, but Yasha’s touch burns like lightening and Beau wants more of it, wants it all around her. She drinks in the touch as Yasha carefully unties the leather band that holds her loose bun in place, and thinks about what it would feel like to have those arms draped around her shoulders. She lets herself drift.

“May I?” Yasha asks, and Beau says yes without wondering what she’s agreeing to. Yasha’s fingers begin carding through her hair, pulling out the knots and bits of debris from the day’s journey, and once the fingers can pull through without catching they start to braid. One piece over the other. Left, then right. There isn’t a lot of length to work with and it’s all over too soon, but when Yasha finishes she unravels the braid and starts again. Then again. Braid, unravel, repeat.  

On the fourth iteration, Beau starts talking.

“My dad was… a real son of a bitch.” The fingers pause, then pull another strand over and keep working. “He used to try a lot of shit to get me to behave. Started out with a whole lot of yelling, and then making sure I didn’t eat for a day or two – luckily once the cook’s assistant found out I was a good lay she snuck me stuff,” and she’s wincing even as she says it because it’s not a lie but she knows she’s making the whole exchange sound colder than it was and she hates that she does this, and Yasha will never meet this girl so it doesn’t matter except that it kind of really does, to her at least.

“Yeah, well, that didn’t work, so he had me locked me in my room for a bit, but I was too good at climbing to stay put.”

With a few quick twists the newest braid coils on top of Beau’s head and for a moment it seem like Yasha is satisfied with the arrangement, but she lets it drop and pulls the strands apart again. Beau lets out a low breath.

“He was smart though, I’ll give him that. Managed to figure out one way to get to me.” She doesn’t have to say this, doesn’t want to admit this, but she can’t shut up now she’s started. “He’d just… stop talking. To me, I mean. I could scream at him and throw stuff and he’d just pretend I wasn’t there. Like I was fucking window dressing. He’d get everyone else to do it too. Servants, courtiers, coachmen… as soon as I walked in the room, nobody would say a word. And I had no idea when it would end. The last time lasted almost three weeks.” She pauses, huffs a bitter laugh. “That shit makes you go crazy, man.” She’s not even sure when she started trembling. But if she bites her lip, she can keep it still.

The fingers pull away, and Yasha leans in closer. Beau feels the wiry brush of twisted hair against her shoulder. “Nobody’s angry with you, Beau.”

“I know,” Beau whispers. “I know. I know.” She doesn’t even bother trying to stop the tears from finally spilling over. “I still hate this.”

The indecision buzzes off of Yasha, and she wants to tell her it’s ok, that she doesn’t expect her to comfort her because this shit isn’t her fault, it’s not anyone’s fault, it’s just Beau’s dumb insecurity and-

“I used to braid her hair, every night.” Yasha’s words slow in the middle, dragged through molasses, but still pushing through. “She didn’t need me to, but I… liked to.” Beau doesn’t know who she is, but she doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t need to ask, not really. “I miss that, more than anything. Just sitting and… being together. I miss that very much.”

Whoever she is, I’m sorry I’m not her. The words burble up in Beau’s throat but she knows they’re not the right ones, and for once, for once, she manages to keep control of her mouth. Instead, she says, “I’m glad you’re here with us, Yasha.”

“I’m glad too.” A pause. “I wouldn’t have wanted to make this journey alone.”

One final time, the fingers card through Beau’s hair, and as Yasha arranges the strands back into a neat bun with the leather band it feels like a return to center. “There.”

Beau reaches up and touches her neck. The skin is mercifully smooth, shaved closer than she can ever manage on her own, and her head is light on her shoulders. She can breathe again.

She turns her head back towards Yasha but she’s already standing and grabbing the torch, and Beau is too late.  

“We should get back to camp,” Yasha is making to leave, and Beau can’t help herself. She grabs Yasha’s forearm arm and squeezes.

“Hey. Thanks. For, like, all of that.” The words are inadequate, but they’re something.

Yasha doesn’t reply, but she squeezes back, and that’s all Beau really needs to hear.

Beau makes a short stop to splash river water over her shoulders and wash away the itchy evidence of the haircut, and so by the time they get back to the group, she’s freezing beneath her vest. Shivering, Beau beelines for the little fire at the center of camp, now barely more than embers. Yasha sinks to the ground and joins Caduceus on watch.

Everything is still quiet, apart from Fjord’s gentle snores and the now-distant rush of water. But before Beau slinks off to her own corner she sits by the waning fire, and feels the earth beneath her, and listens with her body.

Nott’s small form is silent, true. But she curls into Caleb’s side with her knees drawn up, fingers grasping at the hem of his coat, and Caleb has his arm slung around her shoulders, and Jester’s back is pressed up against Nott’s even as her hands curl towards the empty space between her and Fjord, and Fjord’s body is a mirror of Jester’s , and Caduceus watches over them all with a warm, half-lidded smile, and nobody is talking but Beau hears the words love, love, love all the same.

#critical role #critical role fic #beau x yasha #beauyasha #beauregard #yasha #beau #yasha nydoorin #critical role angst #here have some sad beau headcanons #with a dash of yasha comfort #my writing #i haven't posted any writing in a very long time #cr2 is gonna change that i think

[imgaygremlin]

Left in disrepair

Chapter 1- The one where hearts are broken

A golden bunny- well- an anthropomorphic one, shoved a girl- no more than 4, into a small back room, with no witnesses and nothing to protect her. Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria, the newest place kids loved to go to, had several back rooms not mapped on the robot's sensors, or the cameras, making the perfect place to hurt- or worse, kill- someone.

The small girl breathed heavily, scrambling against the wall as a first resort. She whimpered, and decided using her voice would be the best way to ensure her safety. “What are you doing?” Her voice was shaky, and cloaked in a thick lisp, making her almost inaudible. She heard her friends running around outside, looking for her. “Gabriel?” She called, but to no avail. Nobody heard her.

“Shush, Susie. Just give up, they’re not coming to help, and you’ll soon be dead, too" he laughed, it soon turning maniacal and evil, and pulled a knife out from somewhere inside his suit. There were no pockets that Susie could see, so it had to have been on the person inside it.

“You aren’t really a robot, are you?” Upon seeing his reaction, a nod, her eyes flashed between almost every single emotion- sad, that she was alone; happy, that the robots weren’t trying to kill her; anger, that she was letting herself die like this. Her eyes eventually settled on a emotion that was particularly hard to describe, but to put it simply, was betrayal. Betrayal of the adults she thought she could trust. Betrayal that she couldn’t put up a strong fight.

“Good job, kid, you aren’t completely useless.” He chuckled, putting on different voices. Even though they were already almost pitch black, the man- the human’s eyes- seemed to grow darker with bloodlust and he lunged towards the girl, knife swinging outward. It missed her, by a fraction of an inch, and while he was distracted by the recoil and pressure on his arm, his breathing getting heavier- a bad sign- she threw a punch towards his face, and hit him square in the nose. His head got pushed backwards, not by much though. He stood back upright, his smile showing through his gapped teeth.

“That’s the best you can do? You’re weak.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, and made a split second decision to get rid of the Bonnie head, leaving it discarded on the floor. He could no longer act like someone he wasn’t, or rather, something he wasn’t. He smiled, a sweet, sadistic smile which had no traces of regret, or remorse, or really any emotions.

“I’m not the weak one, you are. I might be young, but you’re the stupid one, for attacking me. Don’t get me wrong, I love a fight, but only if it’s fair.” She managed to distract him with her mini speech, and took her chance to duck out behind him, only to find the door locked. Tears growing in her eyes, she fumbled with the door handle, trying to force it open. Eventually, she gave up, sinking back to the ground, sobbing. “I’m sorry, Gabriel, I’ve failed you...” her voice trailed off.

All the while, the man was just staring, knowing she couldn’t escape, and if she could, he would take the defeat. He took his chance, stabbing her in the side while she was crying, her eyes widening in pain. “You can’t get out that easily, Susie. I won’t let you.”

She screamed in pain, one hand holding onto the door handle weakly. The other hand moved towards her side, and she curled in on herself. He simply laughed, watching her futile attempts to save herself. “Welcome to the Afton family, Susie" his smile widened.

“Y-you won’t get away with this, William” she got stabbed in the neck and could not ignore the pain. She collapsed on the floor and bled out.

William climbed out of The suit and stepped over Susie’s body. He dropped his knife, his purple ponytail bouncing behind him. Snapping back into character, he went over to Henry Emily, the person he’s worked with for several years, and faked some tears.

“Henry- I just went into the backroom for some storage and- there was a girl in there- she- she was dead-" he got cut off by Henry dragging him into a private room, alone. He looked almost impressed.

“You can’t lie to me William, you can’t.” That last phrase- you can’t- was one that Henry said a lot, in different tones, but it was always the same phrase. “I know you killed her. Tell me who it was and I’ll tell her parents she went missing.” He smiled, not meaning anything malicious by it, he was just a bit messed up after his daughter died. Henry got on his tiptoes and kissed William, quickly.

“Susie Chirah. She’s strong" Afton laughed slightly, before going on to explain his reasoning. “ You know how Elizabeth, and Chris, and Michael- all either died or left me, right? And for you it’s Charlie? I was thinking-" His face shifted, his eyebrows going down and his smile fading. “We can make a new family, one that’ll never leave us.” He pushed his hair out of his face.

Henry stared up at the 6”2 man, his eyes wide. His oversized sweater had gotten even more oversized as he lost the weight, almost unhealthily, and his hands were covered in ink and oil. Despite this, William loved him. For Henry, William was his only comfort after everyone in his life had left him- not even his sister stayed in contact with him. “Does that mean- Charlie- could come back? In the same way these new children will?”

“In theory, yes.” He paused. “But it might not, as we don’t know what happened to Charlie.” When Charlie- and Sammy- were around, William saw them as his children, and he looked after them like he was their father, but then they started taking too much of his time, so they had to go.

“Oh, speaking of Charlie, come with me!” Henry grabbed William's hand, and dragged him into one of the other back rooms- the safe room, to be specific- and showed him the work-in-progress robot he made, which was almost indistinguishable from how Charlie looked when she was alive. “I haven’t made the ai yet, but it looks like Charlie, doesn’t it?”

“Yes-" he paused, “it looks just like her.” He seemed to rock on his feet, his usually confident facade broken down into- admiration? Love? Jealousy? All of William's emotions were a jumble right now, he couldn’t tell what was ‘William Afton, the businessman’ or ‘William Afton, the broken man’.

“Are you okay? You look upset.” Henry reached towards his hand, but he pulled away.

“I’m fine- I’m sorry- I just remembered something” William quickly looked around the room, before looking back towards Henry. “You’re really beautiful...”

“Should we go back outside?” Henry reached for his hand again, and this time, William didn’t pull away. He gently nodded, and began to leave the safe room. “So.. Susie Chirah?”

“Yeah, that’s her. Have you ever seen a 3 year old so strong? It’s unreal.” William chuckled, sounding more human than he ever had done.

“We’re getting a new night guard tonight, right?” Henry looked around. “’Cause we both have stuff to do, right?”

“I believe so. I think his name is Warlock...”

“Odd name" Henry got the phone he always used, the cheap one. “Wanna help me record a tutorial message for him? This place isn’t too easy to navigate on those cameras.”

“But that means we have to do 5 nights worth of tutorials for one person.”

“Not necessarily. What if something happened to ‘phone guy’ on night 4? Like, being attacked by the robots?” Henry began to chew his nail, out of anxiety, or a whole load of different emotions.

“Or, just let Warlock make them. We can give him extra pay.”

“You’re a genius, William.”

“No, I’m William.” He giggled slightly.

“You need sleep, sweetie.” Henry, being surprisingly strong, picked him up, and walked around the back way, avoiding Susie’s parents, and only put him down when they were in the office. “Go to sleep, and I’ll sort out Susie’s parents"

“I love you, Henry...” And like that, William was asleep.

“I love you too...” Henry left the room, a smile on his face.

He walked towards the main room, where he could see Mrs and Mrs Chirah “Uh- excuse me- you’re the mothers of Susie, right?”

“Yeah...?” One, with a short, half-shaved pixie cut spoke with a thick Japanese accent

“I-I’m so sorry, but... your daughter has gone missing... Me and William can’t find her anywhere... I’m sorry..”

The two wives almost burst into tears, and they left the pizzeria quickly.

Henry sat down, and zoned out.

Meanwhile, William soon woke up, and got to work on increasing the size of his new family. He found his trusty suit, and lured a couple kids into the backroom with their own drawings. “Come here, kids, I found your missing drawings, and I even made them better!”

The oldest child, Cassidy, being almost 6, was the hardest to get trust from, and so he relied on blackmail. Since William had known them all for basically their whole life, he knew what to say to get her to behave. “If you don’t come here, your brother won’t love you anymore.”

“G-Gabriel wouldn’t do that, I know... I think...” She began to question what she knew. Without knowing what she was doing, she began to walk towards William, where her brother, and the Styke siblings were- that is, Fritz and Jeremy.

“That’s right, I won’t hurt you..” He lied. As Cassidy approached him, he grabbed her by one of her short ponytails and dragged her backwards into the safe room with everyone else. William locked the door behind her.

“What are you doing? Why did you lie?” Cassidy started crying, but tried to stay strong.

By this time, Gabriel and Fritz were already dead, on the floor. Jeremy had blood running out of the back of his head, and appeared dead. “You’ll soon be my new children, poor Cassidy. But that’s not a bad thing, you’ll forever be, well, young.”

“I won’t let you hurt anyone else! You’re the reason Susie is missing, aren’t you?” Cassidy almost screamed, her voice sore in the back of her throat.

“Oh, stupid girl, Susie isn’t gone, she’s right here!” He waved his hand and the figure of Susie’s ghost formed next to him.

“That isn’t Susie! That’s just a trick you’re using to kill me!” Cassidy was in tears at this point, and sunk down to the floor, hugging her knees.

Afton took the chance, stabbing her in the chest. He missed, but swung again, and hit her head.

Her hands fell to her side, and her head lolled open, her mouth slightly open. William went to step over her.

Jeremy, unknown to everyone else, was still alive, and went to chase after William. Unfortunate for him, he collapsed over Cassidy's body, his spirit giving up.

William returned, with the suits from the stage. Susie in Chica, Gabriel in Freddy, Fritz in Foxy, and Jeremy in Bonnie.

“Dammit, I need another suit...” he thought for a second, before running off and returning. He then stuffed Cassidy's body into the Golden Freddy suit, more comfortably fitting than the others, as there was no endoskeleton in Golden Freddy.

William, satisfied, left the room.

#william afton #writing #fnaf #fnaf fanfiction #golden freddy #henry emily