#(by outted i mean they both like. said i wrote fic nd that they were rly good blah blah whatever it was middle school)

[sipsteainanxiety]

Shay, since you're such a big bkg fan, do you have any merch of bkg?? If yes then do you mind telling from where did you get it coz I wanna buy too, and if not then do you plan on buying anytime and what kind??

oh…. 😳😳 well this is embarrassing but i actually umm dont have any bkg merch LMAOOO im a fake fan 😭 idk i just never bothered to buy any pfft

the only merch i DO have for mha is a poster my brother got me for christmas and an uraraka funko pop that my friend got me for my birthday sjzjsjxs. so u can see that i dont rly go out of my way to buy anime merch LOL. i do honestly prefer like. lowkey merch ngl. likeeee i would get these bkg pjs thts similar to his hero costume ig? or ummm this hoodie maybe? idfk 🤷‍♀️ im looking on amazon rn LOL this mug is also cute. never thought abt it too much forgive me nonnie 😭😭

i think i have like, a tokyo ghoul bracelet somewhere tho?? its just kaneki’s mask. and i think a naruto bracelet… and an aot one? idk where they are tho i bought them in middle school and i definitely only wore them once or twice LOL

#i keep my fanfic life pretty separate from my irl life 😭😭 #cant let these hoes know i write fic for bkg #ITS EMBARRASSING FOR ME IDK ESP BC IRL IM NOT A REALLY. TOUCHY FEELY ROMANTIC PERSON #sipping tea with shay #a nonny mouse #id maybe get a bkg plush? #actually no #im sticking w the subtle clothes #i have trauma from like middle school of telling two friends i wrote fic (and they read a few) #and then they outted me one day in class in front of another classmate i wasnt close to #(by outted i mean they both like. said i wrote fic nd that they were rly good blah blah whatever it was middle school) #and she looked at me like i was so fcking weird #SHE EVEN WROTE 'ur weirder than i thought u would be' IN MY FUCKING. GRADUATION BOOK #LIKE? MISS GIRL U CRIED IN CLASS WHEN ONE DIRECTION BROKE UP I DONT WANNA HEAR IT!! #but yeah.... that got kinda off topic LOL #those pjs r kinda cute actually might cop it #theyre nice bc i can wear them inside so no one can see how weeb i actually am <3 #god idk how ppl can talk abt reading/writing y/n fic on main thats bolder and stronger than i could ever be

[c0llisiion]

ATTENTION — K.TH

★Pairing: kim Taehyung + f!reader

★Genre: smut

★: exes , kinda toxic ig , bigdickdom!tae , choking, slight exhibitionism , reader is lowkey bipolar , angry sex/make up sex (they just went through a breakup) , mirror sex , oral, slapping, creampie , unprotected sex (please practice safe sex!) name calling, degradation, kth is kinda mean — lmk if i missed any! ^^

★W/C: 2,435

A/N: HIIIIIIII!!!!!! so yes another kth fic :’) its been a while so that’s justified! This is actually one of my first fics i ever wrote nd i found it rotting in my notes so i decided to tweak it up and post :3 (the og was shit.) will finally be able to post more often <3 anyways enjoy! Hope you like itttt

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Loud music was blasting throughout the crowded club. It was a huge party, hosted by one of your closest friend. There were people dancing, drinking, and giving men lap dances. It was a wild one!

You were dancing hard with your girlfriends. Those few shots you took finally hit you. 

You were approached by your friend, while having the time of your life "Hey, bae, there is someone you might like to see.." You stopped and focused on what she was saying "Who?" You inquired. She pointed out a man sitting in one of the booths. He was talking to another familiar man and didn't seem to notice you. You stood there, staring at the man in a suit with a few of his buttons undone. You were, honestly, in disbelief. This day is truly one for the history books.

"Taehyung..." You stood there wide-eyed. "Hell yeah, girly, I invited him for you and you only," she said with a smug smirk. "Go on, bae, get your tiger!" She nudged. "I-i-" you stammered. "come onnn ,, stop being a fucking pussy and go talk to him!!" She started shoving you in his direction. You stayed put, not letting her push you more. "Dude, for god's sake! It's going to be so awkward!" You turned around to face your clearly drunk friend. "Bitch, you were the one that was venting to me about how you wanted to see him almost every day since you broke up!" She countered. What she said was right. You were venting to her every day, nonstop, from the day you broke it off with him. "I-I had confidence that time..! But I don't think i will be able to show that same confidence .." Your friend narrowed her eyes at you. "PUSSY!" She shouted in your face. You both giggled it off before she spoke up. "Well if you are not comfortable yet, then it's fine. I heard that he already has a new girlfrien-" "what?" Your ears perked up. "Wdym what? Did you not hear? Apparently he is fucking that hot chick , aeri from back then; she had approached him two days after you broke up, and they have been dating ever since." You look back at the man clad in a blue suit with a white button up underneath before letting out an angry scoff, "What a bastard..." 

"Its time to get that bastard back into your life," your friend winked at you. 

"Heeeyyyy, Taehyung! How is the party going for you?" Your friend approached him, stumbling slightly. "It's going well! I'm having so much fun!" Taehyung said it with excitement. "Ouu, I'm glad to hear! Ykw, do you want to join us on the dance floor?" Your friend batted her eyelashes at him, baiting him into joining her. "haha imma pass!"  " Cooommeee oooonnnn, it’s going to be fun, Taehyung" she begged for him to join her, and he eventually did after much persuasion. He joined the dance floor and was quickly hoarded by hot girls who definitely wanted to get laid by him. After a moment, his eyes landed on someone he knew. It was you. You were with another man, kissing, hands around his neck, and swaying your hips in a very sultry way. You broke off the kiss and glanced to your side. He was standing there. A woman was holding his face in her hands, trying to get him out of his trance. You could feel the rage that was radiating off of him. You smirked and dragged your mister to the bar. You let him buy you a few drinks before eventually letting him go.

You were drinking your third shot of tequila when he approached you. "It's funny to see you here." You turned around to see the tall figure of Taehyung looking down at you. You almost choked on the alcohol. "It's my best friend's birthday; of course I will be here, dumbass!" You tapped the glass on the counter, signaling for the bartender to pour you another. Taehyung walked over to the empty seat next to you. "So what's up?" You inquired while waiting. "Oh, nothing much; Daddy has been pressuring me to start staying stable." You snorted. " 'daddy' PFFFTTT" . Taehyung looked at you blankly. The bartender poured you a glass, and before you could down it all, Taehyung snatched the shot glass, drinking every last bit, and placed it on the counter. "Yeah 'daddy'” "Omg, you are literally so insufferable." You said it dramatically. "Idek how that aeri bitch is even with you," Taehyung shot up. "What aeri?" He said plainly like he had no idea what you were talking about. You looked at him in shock. "You are dating aeri right?" You asked for reassurance. He scoffed it off. " pff- you really think i would date a hoe like aeri? Never in a million years." He rolled his eyes and chuckled. " B-but .. f/n said you guys are fucking around..??" "That is true, though," your face drowned. "Like, we only hooked up once, and you know what? She is not the person she says she is. One of the worst fuckings I have ever done," you giggled. "Who was your best?" You asked him randomly. "You." Your cheeks turned pink almost immediately. You could feel him looking at you. Eyeing your entire body. "You look good today," he complimented you. "Don't I always look good?" You joked. He chuckled, looking down. You both were staring at each other with love and lust. "I miss you" had accidentally slipped your mouth. Curse you for drinking too much! You quickly covered your mouth in disbelief at what just came out. "What?" He looked at you. "Ah ah nothing, nevermind!!" You brushed it off as quickly as you could. He looked at you with his eyebrow quirked up. "Aha i think i gotta go... f/n is calling me haha". There was a slight stutter in your speech. You got up, and before you could leave the bar, he grabbed you by your wrist, turned you around, and kissed you. You were shocked. Your hands were on his chest while he kissed you with passion. "I missed you too, baby.." The bomb dropped. Your mind went blank. "But tae.." "Please, baby, take me back. I promise to change this time. I just really need you. I don't want anyone else." You looked at him with guilt. But this was the same statement he would always give. 'i will change’ 'I will do better' 'take me back'. You were unsure of what to feel. All these months, you missed him, and now? 

"Tae you know we can't. You always say this but you never change. Just cut the act off." He let go of your waist. "I miss you, baby. I really do. And im sorry for all-" "shush. I don't want to hear another apology. You are never sorry." As much as you love and miss Taehyung. His personality is the biggest turn off. He had broken your trust multiple times, and whenever you would break up, he would come up with the same shit, and you were there to accept his lame apologies. But not this time. You took some time to think about it, and you came to the conclusion that it was best for you not to take him back. 

"Have a goodnight." You said it sternly before turning away. "You are really going to leave me, huh?" Taehyung started following you. "I left you months ago, Taehyung." His gaze went from soft to the familiar, mean one. "You said you missed me!" He pulled you by your arm, turning you back around to face him. "It's for the better! For both of us! You know we are never going to work out!" You countered. "Oh yeah, for the 'better' , I know you will come right back to me. Quit acting, y/n. As soon as my dick enters your desperate cunt, you will be with me once again like the slut you are." His hands went around your waist once again. Mere inches separate you both. Whatever he said was true. You break up. Meet up a few weeks or days later. Fuck, and then back together. The same cycle over and over again. You couldn't get enough of him. “Let’s not play fool again.” He said in a manipulative tone. You were resisting his manipulation, but you gave in. Your lips smashed into his aggressively. He chuckled at your instinct. "Yeah, that's what I fucking thought." He said it in between the kiss.

He rushed you into the club washroom and locked the door. There was absolute rage radiating off of you guys. Kissing harshly and not letting each other go. He made you sit on the counter and grabbed you by your jaw, breaking the intense kiss. Your lips were already swollen. "How many dicks have been in this cunt?" He said,tauntingly. You looked at him with your drunken eyes. "I will make sure no one gets this. It's mine. Got it?" You nodded. He let go of your jaw and dropped to his knees. He spread your legs open and started touching your wet pussy. His fingers circled your clothed entrance. A sticky mixture of your arousal coated his fingertips. "Always wet for me. Goodgirl." he grabbed you by your waist before smashing his face into your heat and started eating you out with your lace panties on. The pleasure was too much. You threw your head back and let out a pornographic moan. He was so good at eating you out to the point that it's enough to come undone.

You tugged on his black locks. Eyes swelling up with tears and drool already dripping down from the sides of your mouth. He was lapping at your cunt like a starved man. “So good.. so fucking good…” he nudged his face closer into your sex. Breathing in your arousal. Your thighs clamped around his head, and let out a choked-out moan as he bit down on your poor clit. “T-tae..! ‘S too much!!” Taehyung found pleasure in your pleas and cries. He pulled away and stared up at you. His chin glistened with his spit and your juices, running down his neck. 

He got up and was quick to capture your lips in his mouth. His tongue swirled around the inside of your mouth, and you could taste yourself. Large hands pushed your dress further up your body; a loud snap was heard as he ripped your thin panties. You grab onto his shoulders as you feel his long, cold fingers rubbing your throbbing clit. You gasped for air as he flicked your nub. Your hands roamed all over his body, helping him take off his Celine suit jacket. Your hands went lower before you stopped at his belt buckle. “Put it in already… please … “ you mumbled into the kiss. Taehyung let out a dark chuckle; his lips traveled down your neck. You felt something prod into your sopping hole. His large tip slipped through your folds easily. You gasp as he pushes himself further into you. His hands tightly held onto your hips as he eased his way into your gummy walls. He hunched over after he fully pushed himself into you. Your cunny clenched around his big length as he started thrusting. Heavy breaths getting louder with each increase in pace. “Gon’ fuck you so good..the entire club will hear us.”

 

-fwap! Fwap! fwap!- loud sounds of your ass slapping against his hips echoed through the restroom. Taehyung had you facing the mirror. A hand wrapped tightly around your hair, pulling your head back. “See how well you take my cock..! Haah- so fucking good. Pussy sucking me in so good.” He whispered in your ear before biting it.  “Ngh- fuck Taehyung feels so g-good…!” You held onto the edge of the counter for dear life as Taehyung pounded into you from behind. Your makeup ran down your face as his thrusts had you tearing up and seeing stars. “Mmm.. haa-“ slap. “Keep your eyes on the mirror while I fuck you. Understand?” You nodded at his words. Your eyes were struggling to stay open, and your head felt heavy. “Words, doll.” He grabbed your jaws and brought his face closer to yours, making you look at him as he continued giving you harsh thrusts. Your body jerking forward at each. The hand on your clit pinching the sensitive nub “ngh- fuck! I u-understand…” a devilish smirk formed on his perfect face. He was fucking you into tomorrow. His long, thick dick abused your soft plush walls over and over again. Red angry tip bruising your cervix. Your cream coated his entire length, and your arousal ran down his balls and your thighs. “Gonna c-cum.. tae- gon’-“ His fingers worked on your clit quickly. Tugging, pinching, and drawing rough circles all to help you reach your high. “Cum all over me.. doll.” And with that, you gushed around his length. “Fuck!!” Spurts of your cum spilled from the sides of your abused hole. Taehyung continued fucking you through your orgasm. “Do you want my cum inside you- haaah… fuck doll squeezing me so good..!” He got cut off as you spasmed around him. You nod weakly at his words. Picking your head up to look at him through the mirror, He brought his face closer to your ears. “Say it. Say you want my cum in you.” He growled in your ears. Your eyes filled up with tears. “I wan’ it…” “Want what? I want to hear you say it.” You bite down on your lip as you feel his fingers draw rough circles on your overstimulated clit again.  “ i wan’ -ngh- i want your cum.. Taehyung. i wan’ your cum in me… please.” Your voice was feeble. Taehyung groaned in satisfaction. “Goodgirl. I like it when you beg.” His hips quickly gained their pace and had you once again feeling full. You let out a choked out scream as you felt Taehyung fill you up. Taehyung moaned loudly as his balls drained all the cum into your plush walls. He dropped his head in between your neck and shoulders as he slowly came down from his high. Leaving soft, wet kisses on the spot. 

He lifted his head up and looked at you before smiling. His hands caressed your red ass. He pulled out, and a stream of yours and his mixed arousal dripped down your thighs. “You're gonna stay with me forever.”

A/N: thank you for reading! I will be writing inboxes so make sure to send in :3 🎀

#౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ yun’s silly fics #bts #bts smut #taehyung smut #bts reactions #bts x reader #bts army #bts fanfic #bts headcanons #bts scenarios #taehyung headcanons #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #taehyung x oc #taehyung scenarios #bts taehyung #taehyung #bts v #v smut

[chifuyudck]

CHRISTMAS WITH THE BROTHERS

obey me brothers x gn!mc ~ SFW

summary: after talking lots about christmas on how you can’t wait for it, one of the brothers asked you “what is a christmas.” you were shocked, they didnt know what christmas was?!

a/n: guys i wrote this fic in summer break and i didn’t even post it on time, no way!! anyways enjoy! (sorry for grammar mistakes, english isn’t my first language)

——————————————————————————

you were outside together with mammon, after you kept bugging him to go outside with you, he finally agreed, you recall him saying something like “my human can’t go nowhere without me.” this was kinda true, because lucifer wouldn’t allow you outside alone, since the snowy weather is way more extreme in devildom than in the human realm.

even when you were wearing thick layers of clothing, you couldn’t help but to shiver, which didn’t go unnoticed by mammon. he sighed looking at you, with slight worry in his eyes. “oi, human, how are ya’ still cold with all those damn layers of clothing? i don’ get ya’ at all.”

“i cant help it mammon, it’s cold here.” you reply, a tiny cloud from condense slips from your slightly parted lips. “i’m not that blind, ya’ know?” he pulled you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your waist. “what’s better than havin’ the great mammon warm ya’ up when you’re cold?” his cocky façade rather quickly breaks as a warm blush appears on his cheeks.

you giggled softly and nodded in agreement, it was nice to have him warm you up, “what’s up with you wantin’ to go outside all the time anyways?” he suddenly asked. “umm.. i just love snow, and the month december in general, because it reminds me of christmas!” you said awfully excited. mammon slowly nodded, having no clue what christmas is, but it hurts his ego too much to ask a mere human what the meaning of the word is.

a notification was heard on both of your d.d.d, mammon grabbed his first, “hm? oh, levi says dinner is almost ready, ‘nd we should come home before beel starts eatin’ it all.” you both sighed, mammon because his alone time with you was over, and you because you haven’t spent much time in the snow, than you wish you could’ve.

luckily you were not that far away from the house of lamentation, as soon as you got inside you went towards your bedroom to take off all the layers of clothes you had put on. after you had freshen up and changed your clothes you walked into the dining room, which was quite chaotic since lucifer was the only brother not there yet.

you sat between satan and belphie, who were both saving a spot for you, “finally you’re here mc, it was boring without you.” satan said, having belphie nod in agreement. “mc, wanna do something to make us feel less bored?” you looked at belphie in confusion, “umm, sure?” you said not knowing what to expect from them.

“what! you want me to pie-face lucifer, are you crazy?” you said, causing a sigh slip from belphie’s lips. “it’s alright, no pressure mc.” satan said, although it would’ve been a funny sight seeing that happen to lucifer he understands your answer.

as soon as lucifer steps into the dining room, the brothers start devouring their foods, you start eating too, spacing a bit out while looking around in the dining room, you come to the realisation that there aren’t any christmas decorations in this room, no, there aren’t any christmas decorations in the whole house!

after swallowing the piece of food you had been chewing on, you part your lips to ask a question, “so why aren’t there any christmas decorations around the house? it’s almost christmas..” your question causes some eyes to pop up to you, and some are too focused on the meal before them.

your eyes shoot over to lucifer, as he clears his throat and seems like he’s about to say something, “i’m not quite sure what ‘a christmas’ is, mc.” then your eyes shoot over to asmo who seems like he’s about to say something too. “hmm, now that you mention it, i never really understood anything you said about this christmas thing, hon.”

you look at them in confusion, suddenly satan starts speaking, “i have read something about christmas before, it’s some sort of holiday, i didn’t really understand what it was all about though.” you were shocked, this must be some crazy prank they’re pulling on you… no.. lucifer wouldn’t play a part in pranks, and mammon has been awfully quiet, right… mammon knew what christmas was, right?

your eyes shot up to mammon, who tries to avoid looking in your eyes, “mammon, you know what christmas is right? we talked about it just now..” mammon simply nods, keeping quiet. you squint your eyes, he’s lying. you take a moment to think this through. “wait… am i about to introduce you all to christmas?!” only thinking about it makes you squeal in excitement.

all the brothers looked at you a bit confused, except for beel, who didn’t even mind gazing towards you since he was a bit too busy with finishing his 4th plate already.

——————————————————————————

LUCIFER

lucifers’ room was up for christmas decoration, all though you weren’t really sure if you’d even get him far enough to decorate his room. you knocked on his door twice, hearing a soft sentence of your approval to enter from him, you didn’t waste a second to open the door.

“lucifer, your room is up for christmas decoration!” you exclaim excitedly, you walk in with a box filled with different types of decorations. “i’m not that interested mc, you should spare it for the rest of the house instead.” you immediately shake your head, as expected, he’d make some form of an excuse.

“no excuses lucifer! i’m already unpacking. and is that classical music i’m hearing? didn’t i tell you to listen to christmas music instead?” you shake your head in disappointment. “i only listen to music from recorders, whereas i don’t own any christmas recorders.” lucifer said, you grabbed something from your box, a christmas recorder, “i got it just for you!” you walk over to swap the recorders, the first song that starts playing is joy to the world, you noticed lucifer looked a bit annoyed, he’ll get over it soon anyways.

you walked back to the box with decorations, you were going to keep it as small as possible since you knew lucifer would be upset if you made too many changes in his room. you reached out for a christmas sock you made for him, with his name sewn on it and having cute reindeer patterns.

you tip-toed to reach out for the part of the wall you wanted to hang it on, but to your surprise, you couldn’t quite reach it. your eyes went around the room, searching for something you could possibly stand on to hang the sock up. this didn’t go unnoticed by lucifer, he stood up from his desk and walked away from his office, into the bedroom that was attached to it, and where you were.

he took the sock from your hands and hung it perfectly on the spot where you wanted it to be, you smiled softly at him. “thank you, lucifer.” you said, he reflected your soft smile back to you, “it’s nothing.”

you pick up the box from the ground, ready to leave his room, as you turn around to leave, lucifer’s voice sounds, “hold on… is this everything my room gets?” he asks, he actually doesn’t really care about the decorations, he just likes it when you accompany him. “hm? i thought you wouldn’t like more decorations..” you say, actually surprised. “well, you’re wrong then, mc… i’ll help you decorate the rest of the house too... i just don’t want you to get injured, because that would be hurting lord diavolo’s image…” he says, you nod, excited. “alright, let's get started then!”

——————————————————————————

MAMMON & BEELZEBUB

you were humming a familiar christmas song quietly, while making your way to the kitchen. as you enter the room, like usual, beel is rummaging through differents cabins and the refrigerator. “hi, mc.” beel mumbles while chewing on some crisps satan had left on the counter.

your eyes quickly fall upon the box on the table, which pulls a relieved sigh from you. when you start opening the box, beel’s eyes shoot towards you, most likely because of the sound of the plastic wrap around the various foods. “what’s that?” beel asks curiously as he gets closer.

“a gingerbread house! do you want to make one together?” you ask him, and he quickly replies with an excited nod. he truly is adorable, no clue what a gingerbread house is, but still willing to play a part in making them.

as you start working on getting the gingerbread intact, beel unconsciously gets closer, really close to the point we’re he’s standing behind you, and towering over you, to reach the gingerbread house on the kitchen table.

a small blush creeps on your cheeks, however beel doesn’t even seem to notice how close you guys truly are. not like you mind, it’s peaceful working together like this.

that is until a loud mammon barges into the kitchen, “where’s mc- here ya are!” he says excitedly, beel unconsciously moves away from you as mammon gets closer. mammon points at the gingerbread house with raised eyebrows. “what’s that… thing?”

“a gingerbread house.” you and beel both say in union, mammon shrugs, still unsure what that means. “you wanna help? mc is really good at making them!” beel asks mammon, which turns your lips in a soft smile. mammon gazes at you for a second, and starts blushing, “leave it to me!”

now you have both mammon and beel standing behind you and towering over you, looking closely at your creation which you are still working on. with mammon’s rather special questions he comes up with, and beel eating the decoration, the three of you manage to finish the gingerbread house quickly.

——————————————————————————

LEVIATHAN & ASMODEUS

as you we’re tying your shoe laces together, a busy leviathan almost stumbled over your crouched figure. he lets out a gasp, dropping his phone, which he held horizontally, on the floor. “a-are y-you ok-kay?” he asks with a flushed face, flustered by what happened.

you let out a soft giggle as you nod, “i’m fine, levi.” he lets out a relieved sigh and fetches his phone from the ground. as you finish tying your shoes, you stand up and realise he’s wearing a coat. “are you heading out, levi?” you ask quite surprised, since levi barely goes outside, even for school.

“yeah, i’m going to a second-hand figurines store, supposedly there’s a rare TSL-figure of the lord of corruption from volume 2, you could only get one in a specific TSL-convention, sadly they ran out before i could get my hands on one.” he says in almost one breath, you chuckle softly, intrigued by how quickly levi starts oversharing when he’s excited.

“well since i’m heading out to buy christmas presents, we should go together?” you ask him, a blush creeps on his cheeks and before he can reply with loads of stuttering, asmodeus chirps throughout the hallway. “take me with you!”

you both turn towards an excited asmo, which makes you smile softly at him. “sure, come with us.” quickly the aura shifts, which gives you a frightened feeling, levi is envying asmo over this interreaction. you quickly place your hand in levi’s which makes him forget about asmo. and the three of you go outside.

asmo is hanging onto your arm, getting closer and closer by the second, while levi is barely holding your hand since he’s too flustered to strengthen his grip, the difference between them makes you giggle. “what’s so funny?” asmo asks, genuinely curious, “nothing.” you snicker.

——————————————————————————

SATAN

you’re in satan’s bedroom, sitting on his bed in particular. you’re just fiddling with your d.d.d while satan reads a book about different holidays. “who came up with the idea of bringing bad kids to spain if they misbehave?” your eyes shoot up to him as he suddenly starts quizzing you.

“what?” you let out a laugh as you crawl closer to him, to see where he got that information from. he looks at you with raised eyebrows as he’s unsure of what this means.

“i think this is a different traditional holiday, satan.” you snicker, and his eyes widen, “i think this one is from, the netherlands.” you tell him. he closes the book with a satisfying thud and lets a sigh as he lays down on his bed. “i hate to say it, but i don’t understand these holidays at all.” he says.

you chuckle and lay down next to you, fitting precisely between a pile of books and satan. “do you want me to explain it to you, again?” you ask him, he nods and turns towards you. although you’ve already explained it to him a few times, you don’t mind telling him again.

——————————————————————————

BELPHEGOR

on december 24th, everyone is getting ready for the evening you planned, it was christmas eve, you noticed everyone was busy getting ready except belphegor.

which a soft sigh you knock on the twins’ bedroom door, which beel immediately opens, “hi mc- wow, you look amazing.” he says, you smile softly as a blush creeps on your cheeks. “thanks beel.” you say.

beel unnanounced lets you into the bedroom, and your eyes fall upon belphie’s sleeping figure in his bed. as you make your way closer to him beel mentions that belphie has been napping for a while now. you sit on belphegor’s bed and pull his comforters away slightly. a chuckle errupts from you as you notice that belphie is already wearing a suit.

since you’re already ready to go, you decide to help belphie get ready. by starting off with combing his soft hair, you had never noticed how healthy it truly was. you use one of his colognes on him, which makes him sniffle a bit. beel looks at the both of you with admiration as he loves his favourite people caring about each other.

he continues sleeping peacefully until he stirs awake when you put a face mask on him. “mc? what are you doing here?” he mumbles, obviously still drowsy. “helping you get ready, you fell asleep belphie.” you tell him softly, and help him sit up while he lets out a yawn.

you remove the face mask from his now soft and glowing face while he stares at you in awe. “hmm, oh.. your mascara smudged.” he mumbles, and he wipes it away with his finger. now you’re both helping each other get ready.

#obey me #obey me x mc #belphegor #gender neutral y/n #lucifer #om! mc #asmodeus #beelzebub #gender neutral reader #mammon #leviathan #satan #christmas

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Hey, Nyarla. I've been following you for a while and although this is a safe space and you seem extremely open minded and kind, I don't feel brave enough to say this off-anon due to past experiences.

You're one of the first authors who, without writing for it directly, has made me comfortable reading your headcanon sets and your fics and blurs, because they way you represent characters is comforting.

I am autistic, and it is extremely hard to have people not treat you like you're either mentally impaired (due to misinformation) or plain creepy (due to ableism), and it is disheartening to just exist sometimes. Often times, this kind of treatment gets applied from authors into their work. I don't think everyone has to know everything about every single condition in the world, but it seems there's a tendency to, most of the time, infantilize or demonize, or apply the aforementioned treatment, to neurodivergent people.

But to my very pleasant surprise, you had this set of headcanons for Mihawk, titled "Mood Swings", where you wrote the reader with some bipolar tendencies, and I couldn't help but bawl. I genuinely cried for a good while, in both relief and happiness. You didn't demonize bipolar tendencies, nor make him annoyed, nor anything of the sort. You were SO respectful about it, and so fucking mature in your writing, and it felt like a warm hug and a reassuring pat on the back.

You haven't even written anything for an autistic reader themselves, and you still helped me immensely with one single fic. Thank you so much for the way you write, and for the way you interact with your followers. You're wonderful, and I am eternally grateful to you for just one single set of headcanons like that. You reaffirmed the comfort within my comfort character. I hope you yourself find joy in the fact you, unknowingly, made a person so irremediably happy.

I can't thank you enough ❤️

I understand completely the desire to remain anonymous, but please know I still have the utmost respect for you for sending me this, and I really just wanna give you the biggest hug in the world, and I legitimately have tears in my eyes right now.

I'm going to come out and say right now, I'm schizophrenic. My official diagnoses is schizoaffective disorder depressive type, which essentially means that I experience symptoms of psychosis associated with schizophrenia (mostly auditory hallucinations in my case, occasionally visual, tends to worsen with lack of sleep) in tandem with symptoms characteristic of depression. I don't tend to tell people about it, because I know how schizophrenia is depicted in fiction and media in general. Typically as psychos that do bad things "because the voices said to."

I'm saying this because I want you to know that I understand how people tend to attach stigma to mental health conditions and neurodivergence, and I know how much it sucks and how much it hurts; and also that I respect you so, so much for talking about it. It's kind of skewed whether schizophrenia is considered neurodivergeant or not, but I tend toward identifying as neurodivergent. Experiencing the world differently, processing information differently, thinking differently is the general definition of ND, and I definitely identify with that.

I haven't specifically written autistic characters/readers largely because I don't feel like I would be able to accurately represent it, and I do not want to write it in a way that would make anyone uncomfortable or upset. I helped raise two of my nephews that were autistic, and they were both so different, in personality and quirks and "symptoms." They're also amazing and vibrant and intellient in ways that I can't even begin to describe.

Two of my favorite fictional characters that are generally accepted as being autistic are L and Near from Death Note. It's never explicitly stated in the manga or anime that they're autistic, but they're both written and depicted in a way that shows how they think and experience things differently without demeaning them for it; that other characters are a little nervous or intimidated around them at first, but grow to understand and form bonds with them over the course of the story; and they're also shown to be distinctly different from each other in personality, rather than carbon copies of each other. As such, if you haven't read/watched Death Note, I highly recommend it. Manga more than anime for personal reasons (there were some differences made in the ending of the anime that I don't agree with but I'm not going to get into that here)

ANYWAY

I'm also really beyond happy that you enjoyed Mood Swings. I wrote it with exactly the intention of representing Bi-Polar symptoms realistically and without any stigma. Knowing that you found it comforting makes me so, so happy. That was exactly what I wanted. I've seen "bi-polar" used synonymously with "psycho" so often, usually in tandem with a particular word rhyming with "witch," and I hate it so much.

Mental health isn't a joke. Some people are born with their brains wired differently. Some people are forced to live through trauma that rewires their brain. It makes day-to-day life exhausting beyond measure, particularly if it involves interacting with other people, and it's even more exhausting when others poke fun at it and don't take it seriously.

I know I'm repeating myself, but I really, sincerely want this blog to be a safe place for everyone. So it makes me so, so happy to recieve Asks like yours. So thank you again, and I hope you (and anyone else who needs it) continue to find this to be a safe place.

[fangirlovestuff]

‘stache Stories - Chris Evans x reader

a/n - hey lovely people!! at last, a fic! behold this astounding feat of- well, i don’t really know, but i’m happy i finally wrote at least one of the requests i had😂 i promise i’m trying to write more but for a few different reasons i’m veryyyy late on stories and i hope the anon is still around to see this! also, i personally have a hate hate relationship with the mustache, so it’s kinda in there too hehe, but we all always love chris. enjoy!<3

for the first time in months, you were finally going to see your boyfriend

not only were you going to finally see him in person after a month of both of your jobs keeping you apart, but you were going to watch him perform on broadway! 

you were so excited to watch him act on stage, you loved all of his movies and you were sure you were going to love the play just the same, if not even more

you texted chris you were there before locating the back door, telling your name to the security guard at the entrance

you asked him where you could find chris and he just pointed in a certain direction vaguely, so you looked around as you went in the direction he pointed in

you were trying to keep an eye out for chris, but you've never really been backstage in broadway before, so you couldn't help marveling at the hustle and bustle of people, and it was still nearly two hours until the show

you saw someone standing on their phone, and you assumed they'd be available enough to help you, since unlike all the other people who were walking around fervently, the man seemed pretty relaxed

"excuse me, do you know where i can f-"

he turned his face in your direction, and it took you a second before a gasp fell from your lips, and then you started giggling like a lunatic

"you made it!" chris grinned, enveloping you in a tight hug

you sighed contently in his arms, holding him back just as tightly, but when you broke away, you struggled to contain your laughter

"babe... you can't just-" you started laughing again, the mustache just as funny as it was shocking, "you can't just ignore That," you gestured at his face

"you don't like it?" he asked, but the shy smile on his face indicated he was aware of the... less than great mustache on his face

"i don't wike it," you confirmed teasingly and shook your head before pressing a kiss to his cheek

"well, the sacrifices we have to make for the craft," he said dramatically

"ah yes," you said, just as dramatic, "the craft. but, i gotta ask, how necessary was it? like is it super necessary or can you like... i don't know, shave it off tonight before we go out?"

"i didn't know it was that bad," he chuckled

"okay, okay, it's not that bad," you shrugged, "but, y'know, i feel like it kinda obscures the view," you pouted

"the view? what view?" he asks, a smug smile stretching across his face

"my very handsome boyfriend who has been tragically kidnapped by a wierdo," you said, your pout now entirely exaggerated

"i don't know is that was a compliment or an insult," he admitted with a chuckle

"best of both worlds," you smirked, prompting him to laugh

"so we're still on for tonight after the show, right?" he asked once his laughter died down

"obviously yes," you said, sincerity showing on your face, "i missed you," you kissed him softly, knowing you still had a ton of other people around, even if they were polite enough to pretend you two weren't there, it was probably a matter of time until someone came by looking for him

"great," he smiled softly at you once you parted

"see ya later luigi!" you winked at him 

"that's... fair," he laughed, shaking his head

you went by to look around the area before you'd come back to see the show itself

after the show, you found chris backstage once more, after he already changed back into his normal clothes, and took his hand, ready to head out

you two were quick, slipping out before there were that many people by the door, and you made your way past whatever crowd was starting to form before you could start walking a little less briskly

"you were wonderful," you bumped his shoulder with yours, smiling

"yeah? you liked it?"

"i mean, i kinda hated you, but that's in the job description, i think," you giggled

"yes!" he pumped his fist in celebration

"wow, if i would've known that's how you'd react to me hating you maybe i'd do it more often," you teased

"i'd rather not," he laughed, before pulling you into a street corner, where you were barely seen from the traffic, and wrapped his arms around your waist

"i missed you," he whispered

your lips finally met properly, tongues exploring, eager to get reacquainted with a beloved landscape

"missed you too," you answered, your voice a bit breathy

you swallowed and then took his hand in yours, "c'mon, let's go to dinner," you smiled, dragging him back into the street

you loved the man, really didn't like the mustache, but it made him a little less recognizable, which you were both thankful for

sometime later, scott grew a similar mustache 

when you first saw him as he opened the door for you and chris when you visited him, all he got was an "oh. so what's up?"

chris looked at you incredulously

"seriously? when i grow a mustache you call me a weirdo and when he does all he gets is an 'oh'?" 

"oh my god, i almost forgot about your mustache," you said, bursting into laughter, "god, that was terrible, wasn't it scott?"

scott laughed and agreed with you, ushering you and a grumbling chris inside

"honestly scott, if i wasn't his girlfriend back then and i saw him on the street, i would run," you said, "and i hate that i need to clarify this, but not into his arms - i would run away," you teased, watching a red tint spread on chris' cheeks from the corner of your eye

"you got a point there," the two of you laughed

"but he has a mustache as well! right now!" chris half-whined the words

"yeah, you do," you snickered at the man in question. "well, you could probably do that crime movie you've always wanted, cop or criminal," you laughed

"where was this energy when i had a mustache?" chris chimed in again

"well, maybe it's because i don't have to date scott," you retaliated

"you never had to date me too," he pointed out

"no, i really think i did. see, charming, wonderful, smart guys aren't that easy to come by, so really i had no other choice," you shrugged

"at this point you'd think i'd be able to understand if you're insulting me or complimenting me," chris huffed out a laugh

"does it matter?"

"nope, i love you anyway," he wrapped his arm around you

"awww. love you too," you leaned into his side, "but please don't grow a mustache ever again. i'll do whatever you want"

"ooo, whatever i w-"

"may i remind you there are children in the room!" you cut him off, gesturing at scott, and the three of you laughed together, "so whatever you were gonna say, spare us"

"fine," he rolled his eyes, "but i still think i looked better than him with a mustache"

"mmmm, debatable."

i couldn’t help referencing the mustache scott has now at the end, especially after the intereview with both of them yesterday (i love them so much omg), and as always i love hearing your thoughts!!<3

Taglist:  @horny-nd-bored​ @shannon124 @perfectlyharolds​ @wintersoldierslut​ @iceebabies​  @sleepingpapermouse @steverogerswasalwaysworthy @holtzkinnon @angelicl-y @stydia-4-ever @thatoneperson5000 @fangirlfree​ @kaitcordx25 @bequeening​ @steve-barry-damon-logan​ @itscrazycherryblossomcollection​ @hollandxmarvel​ @stargazingfangirl18 @readsreblogsfics @onetwo3000 @beritmetal @harrystylesholland @jazbot2000 @anobscurename @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @peggycarter-steverogers @evansphnx12 @starlightcrystalline @procrastinatingsapphictrash

if you wanna join / be removed from a taglist, comment/message me! much love <3

#chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x wife!reader #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine

[eclipsedpascal]

Lavender Bruises

Older!Duncan x Female reader

A meeting with you and your father’s company’s buyers, leads to the shocking realisation that you had unknowingly slept with it’s new owner, Duncan Shepherd, just the night before. You needed to hide this sinful secret from your father, which left you stuck between wanting to make him proud and the unsatisfied craving you couldn’t ignore for Duncan to claim you as his personal toy. But you could manage both. Right?

Warnings: mentions of work (ew), alcohol, one night stands, large age gap, daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, public sex, fingering, oral (female receiving), intercourse, spit kink, slapping, spanking, hickeys, bruising, degrading/teasing, mouth fucking with fingers? is that a thing?, hair pulling and a ring kink ig:)

Notes: I've been writing this for fkn MONTHS now bcs I kept loosing inspiration, so this is actually the first thing I ever properly wrote! it's kinda complicated ig? idk like the parts in bold are a time skip to the night before and the fic goes in-between the meeting the reader is at and the previous night, meaning there’s two separate smut scenes so!!! but yeah i'm a whore lmao. Also ik hickeys don’t show up the same on certain skin tones and i’m sorry for that. i tried my best to be as inclusive as possible nd didn’t mention anything to do with the skin tone. Also!! if you're interested, I was listening to Cherry lips by garbage most the time I was writing this nd I feel like it fits it pretty well😌

Word count: 8.4k

●●●●●●●●

Going over the logistics of a content deal with the conglomerate that had recently bought your fathers newspaper wasn't the most preferable way for you to spend your lunch, but unfortunately it was necessary.

You know how these “lunches” go; business meetings disguised as casual discussions. They’re exactly the same if taken place in a conference room. Disagreeing and having to come to compromises you’d rather not, with the only differences being there's more chatter and cluttered noise of dinnerware coming from the restaurant around you.

You much preferred being in the office for these kind of things, but it was at the request of the new owners that you meet here, meaning you didn’t really have choice.

As you arrived at the restaurant you saw your father inside, waiting for your arrival just past the main entrances oversized, glass doors. You were almost 10 minutes late now and you knew he would be pissed. Honestly, you couldn't blame him.

Having to rush through a traffic riddled DC to get home at 10 in the morning because you had spent the previous night in a strangers hotel bed wasn't your proudest moment. Was it worth it? Yes, but it didn’t exactly leave you with much time to prepare for the lunch only two hours later.

You payed the driver and stepped out of the cab onto the drowning, wet sidewalk, desperately trying to shield yourself from the relentless rain that had been pouring down on the city all morning.

Looking up at the grand building on front of you, you could tell the place was going to be expensive. The entrances steps were 12ft wide and made of a pearly white marble that was now soaked with cascading rain water, making them even harder for you to run up in your heels as you tried escape the cold.

“Y/N, where have you been? You're 10 minutes late and these people don't like to be kept waiting." The people your father was referring to? the owners of Gardner Analytics. they had bought what seemed like hundreds of press company's over the past few years, especially those in the DC area. Their most recent purchase being the Washington herald, of which your father was the Editor-in-chief. You had been working there for a few months as your fathers assistant and helping out at these meetings had become routine.

“I'm so so sorry, my alarm didn't wake me and I-“

"It's fine" He interrupted "It's fine, just please tell me you have the documents I asked you to bring?" You could tell he was stressed out from the way his voice was wavering and how often he was stumbling over his words, so instead of trying to explain yourself any further you stayed quiet and did your best to take in as much of the information he was relaying onto you as you possibly could.

As he led you through the dinning room he explained to you who else was there, telling you that the others from the herald who were attending the lunch had already began talks with Gardener Analytics at the table ten minutes prior.

The closer you got to the table the more your fathers voice faltered, trying to round off the conversation so he could properly introduce himself when the time came. "Now Bill Shepherd had to cancel last minute, said it was something to do with his health unfortunately. But not to worry! I've spoken with him over the phone and he's informed me his nephew is filling in for him, okay?”

Before you even had a chance to reply he turned from you, reaching over the table to shake hands with a man you recognised as Seth Grayson; their director of communications, and an older woman who you assumed was Annette Shepherd. She and her brother Bill were the owner's of Gardner Analytics and your father had said it was important he got on their good side.

As your father greeted the others, you began retrieving the documents out of your bag, knowing they would be needed by Seth right away.

"..So sorry for the delay Mr Shepherd, you know how DC traffic can be" Your father chuckled slightly as he shook the man’s hand, making some light small talk. Mr Shepherd? that must be bill’s nephew, you thought.

You felt even more unprepared now; you didn’t even know the man’s name.

"This is my daughter and assistant, Y/N" Upon hearing your father introduce you to the mystery Shepherd, you slotted the documents under one arm and reached out to shake his hand with your other.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr Shepherd" But as you shifted your gaze up to his own, you realised that there was no need for introductions.

He smiled gently, a kind of smug delight obvious in his eyes as he looked you up and down, taking you all in. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Y/L/N"

He released your hand from his grasp, moving to clasp his own behind his back. “But please, call me Duncan.”

Duncan fucking Shepherd. how could you be so oblivious? The two of you had spent hours together last night. How hadn't you figured out who he was? As panic ripped through you like a wildfire, you wondered if Duncan was feeling the same way; but from the look on his face, he was enjoying this.

●●●●●●●●

11:34pm previous night

It was getting pretty late now, and meeting someone who could fuck the stress out of you was becoming less and less likely by the minute. so deciding to finish your drink and leave, you took in the room one last time; making sure you hadn’t missed anyone interesting.

The fluorescent red and blue lighting of the expensive hotel bar was just bright enough for you to spot an older man you hadn’t noticed before. He must have been at least 40. He was sat in a booth with five or six others, all drinking, laughing and joking, yet he was staring at you.

Taking the seat next to you, he called out to the bartender. “Bourbon. Neat.”

You'd been waiting for him to come over ever since you saw him. It had been 20 minutes or so of quick glances and smiles to each other before the group of men he had been with dissipated. You had heard one of the men he was with refer to him as ‘Duncan’ when he had said his goodbyes, but other than that all you could assume about the man was that he was rich; judging by the all black LV suit he was wearing.

"Can I buy you a drink?” Turning to face at him when you heard him speak, you were practically stupefied by how attractive he was. His hair was full of shiny grey streaks that aged him. His stubble complimented his cheekbones perfectly and the speckles of grey throughout it helped bring out the brightness of his piercing blue eyes. His lips were full, and you couldn't help but notice how soft they looked.

“Vodka and coke” You smiled, trying your best to be confidant, but they way he was looking at you was giving you butterfly's you couldn’t swat away.

“I.D?” The bartender asked. You grabbed it out of your purse, proving your age to the bartender before watching him walk away to make your drink.

There was a brief silence before the man spoke again. “I hope my staring didn’t bother you, I just couldn’t take my eyes off you.” His flattery almost made you blush, but he wasn’t going to get you with a line that bad.

“Didn’t bother me at all, though i’m sure your friends there must have been envious” You chose to ignore his cheesy line, knowing that as much as you wanted him to take you there and then, you would much prefer making him work for it.

He chuckled slightly, knowing the game you had chosen to play. he looked away from you and down into his glass before taking a swig of the golden-brown liquor that occupied it. “Well I’m known to be quite a busy man, so I’m sure they understood.” He turned to face you slightly, waiting for some kind of reaction from you.

“Busy enough of a man to be drinking on a Tuesday night?” You questioned him teasingly, Ignoring that you yourself had the most important meeting of your young career in just over twelve hours.

“Is that really such a surprise? Most times being so busy is the main reason for drinking” He joked with you as he flirted, making it hard for you to keep eye contact without going red at the thought of such a beautiful man seeking your attention.

Duncan could see how nervous you were under the confident demeanour you had put on, I mean you were practically screaming it out to him at this point. The way you were fidgeting with the chain of your silver earring as you leaned against the bar and the fact you couldn’t even look at him for longer than 3 seconds without blushing was evidence enough for him.

“Well, that’s true.” You giggled a little as you spoke in your anxious state.

Taking a hold of your drink, you wrapped your lips around the paper straw and moved your gaze over to the bartender who was now serving someone a few seats down, attempting to distract and ground yourself from the situation at hand.

You were gripped back into reality quickly when you heard him speak again.

“There’s no need to be so nervous, I’m not going to eat you.” You found his use of the phrase quite ironic, being that’s exactly how it seemed. His eyes were piercing into you in an almost questioning manner, but when he gazed over your body, taking in your satin, black slip dress covered curves, the swipe of his tongue against his plump bottom lip gave you a very different impression; an impression he wanted to devour you. It was as if he thought you were that sweet snack he had been craving all week.

“No? That's a shame” You faked a frown, pouting as you moved to rest your chin on your hand.

“Well I think we should at least be aware of each others names before making such wild propositions, don’t you…?” His smirk never seemed to leave his face as he spoke.

He was good at this game, better than you at least. Of course It was obvious he was going to have had more experience with his age and all, but the way he was charming you so easily with just plain old conversation and confidence was getting harder and harder to match.

“Y/N, my name’s Y/N.” You batted your eyelashes at him a little, for some reason feeling smaller upon revealing your name to him. You felt as if you had lost the upper hand in the conversation suddenly.

“Hm, Y/N. That’s beautiful.” You rolled your eyes. Of course it is. Thats what they all say. You thought.

“Aren't you going to ask mine?” His ego now showing, you decided to make a bolder move.

“You rather fancy yourself, don’t you, Duncan?”

He finished his drink and moved closer to you. “Oh, so you already know my name?”

He was close enough to you now that you could make out the many beauty marks which decorated his cheekbones and hear the rasp of his voice even better than before. It was thick as honey and just as sweet too.

“I heard your friend call you it.” You quickly replied.

He scoffed a little, finding amusement in what he was about to say. He brought his face down closer to yours and began to run his fingers through your hair. “Hm, well he’s an old friend sweetheart. Most people would call me Mr Shepherd.”

You felt yourself grow hot, Duncans words casting a haze of complete lust over your mind.

You did your best to stay confidant, doing everything you could to ensure you didn't loose this game the two of you were playing. “Really? Is that what you like? Mr Shepherd.”

Your faces were so close to each others now that you could smell the bourbon on his breath when he let out a loud chuckle. His pearly whites showing as he did so. You even felt him graze his stubble against your cheek.

“Mhmm.” He ran his finger over your lips as he spoke slowly. "So tell me, what is it that does it for you Y/N? Hm? I mean a girl your age doesn’t decide to stare at a man like me all night just for the hell of it. So what is it? The power? The money? Or is it the age gap so big I could be your father?”

You squeeze your legs together as his sentence finishes, letting out a hushed whimper. Of course you were attracted to older men, that was obvious, but hearing him say it out loud in public whilst being so close to you turned you on even more than you thought previously possible.

He chuckled a little, “So it’s the age then, is it sweetheart? The idea of having a man more.. experienced pleasure you, instead of a man who would leave you to fend for yourself after finishing in less than five minutes. You want someone who can make you cum so hard you’d be begging him to make it stop, don’t you?” Every move Duncan made, every word he spoke was calculated, and it was all in pursuit of teasing you just because he knew he could.

You made a mental note of his nickname for you as you looked up at him. You felt his fingers run across your cheek and then push some stray hairs back behind your ear as you desperately tried to think of something smart to say, anything to say; but he had won. He knew what you wanted and he wanted it just as bad. You didn’t even care anymore. You were more than ready to give what little of a resolve you still had up to him.

He whispered to you as he moved his spare hand up the small of your back. “Now little one, I have the presidential suite of this hotel under my name tonight. So what do you say we go on up? Since now we're just so well aquatinted."

●●●●●●●●

Having to take part in a meeting with your father and the man double your age that you had fucked for hours the night before was NOT what you had planned for today.

“Mr Shepherd, I apologise that I didn’t make it here on time. I had a pretty hectic morning.” You did your best to keep your chill in your now shocked state, but with everyone watching the two of you it wasn’t easy.

“No don’t worry, I know how DC traffic can be, especially in this weather. As long as you're here now.” A wide smile was planted on his face as he spoke. The same as last night. He never broke eye contact with you, and you found yourself wondering how he could do it so easily.

“Please, sit.” He gestured you over to take a seat as he pulled out the chair next to his own. You thanked him politely and sat down, your mind racing and spiralling out of control at the thought of your father discovering the sinful deeds you and his new boss had taken part in just hours prior.

You felt him tuck you into the table before sitting down next to you. You could hear the voices of the restaurant that surrounded you and the others at the table coming at you. Every noise was muffled, as if your head was suddenly underwater.

“Y/N?” You were quickly brought back to reality when you heard Seth question you.

“From my understating you have the merger documents in your belonging, yes?” He looked at your father for reassurance this was definitely case as he spoke. So with everyone at the table’s eyes on you, you slid the documents over to him.

“Yes! And uhm the specifications for the more politically based content changes are detailed on page 25. I was told that was of high interest today?” You got yourself back on track, trying to stay as professional as possible whilst ignoring Duncan and the predicament you had found yourself in.

“We were briefly discussing the more major changes before you arrived Mr Y/L/N, but I believe you’ve already been made aware of most them?” Duncan addressed your father, kicking the meeting off. But you couldn’t concentrate. You were listening to the conversation, you really were! It was just that you were so wrapped up in Duncan’s voice you couldn’t actually understand what the fuck they were all talking about.

Seeing him so invested in the crucial conversation he was having with your father and the many other associates at the table was just doing something to you.

Observing the way his hands were moving when he spoke, you noticed how he would often clasp them together when he was explaining things, and how he would tilt his head slightly as he listened. His bronzed curls were combed to perfection, resting delicately on the right side of his face and when he licked his bottom lip, it sent a shiver down through your spine all the way to your cunt. You were entirely captivated by him.

Hearing your Father ask for your opinion on the subject being discussed, you shook off the spell Duncan’s attractiveness had casted onto you and responded, giving your perspective on the subject.

Duncan relaxed into his seat a little more as he watched you talking. He knew you had been staring at him, but it was cute, he thought. Almost endearing seeing you get so flustered at just the sight of him. He had seen you squirming around in your seat whilst you watched him and decided the accidental teasing wasn’t enough; he wanted to toy with you more. As much as he possibly could.

“You know, if you’re trying hide what’s happened between us then you might consider making your staring a little less obvious, sweetheart.” He was speaking quietly enough for nobody else to hear and not looking in your direction, pretending to still partake in the tables back-and-forth. Still the fear of your father, who was sat just across the table, overhearing Duncans remarks was petrifying.

You knew you couldn’t let your craving for him and the confusion from not knowing who he was last night effect the meeting, but there he was with that nickname again, stirring your desire even further.

“How are you even here?” You let your frustrations out onto him as you talked back, his cocky attitude getting to you too easily with the stress you were under. “I’m trying so hard not to ruin today and this situation isn’t helping! They’ll fire me if I mess this up and I’ll be fucked! Which surprisingly, I’d prefer not to be!” Your whispering was pretty aggressive, but could you really blame yourself?! This kind of coincidence was rare, so you had every right to be mad at the universe for letting it occur on today of all days.

His ego not faltering for even a second, he chuckled. “Oh you don’t wanna get fucked? Funny, because I remember you saying the exact opposite last night.”

He grazed his hand across your inner thigh, massaging it gently before diving underneath the little black pencil skirt you were wearing to grip onto your flushed skin.

You scoffed at his words and looked up at him, shocked at how bold he was being and expecting some kind of response from him, but he didn’t even look your way. You assumed this was so no attention was brought to the two of you and so you followed his lead, turning away from him just as fast as you had looked.

With the heat of your cunt having grown far too intense to bear, any friction that wasn’t your own thighs pressing up against each other was to be welcomed. So you decided not to stop him. In fact you did the exact opposite, spreading your thighs wider for him, not having the self control or restraint to keep yourself from him any longer.

His hand moved closer to where you needed him most, diving under the crotch of your underwear to swipe his fingers over your slick folds and immediately begin rubbing circles onto your neglected clit.

You stifled a moan, leaning onto the table on front of you to keep yourself steady as he touched you. Finally, he moved his gaze to rest on you, watching you as you struggled to stay silent. He whispered once more, “Always so wet for me, aren't you princess?”

●●●●●●●●

As soon as you entered the suite, Duncan gripped onto your waist, pushing you up against the door and cradling your cheek with his spare hand before smashing his lips into yours.

His tongue slipped past your lips, dancing with yours whilst he moved his hands all over your body, clutching onto your breasts and then moving them down to explore the rest of you.

He lifted your dress up just enough so he could grip your ass. Pulling you closer to him and making you feel his bulge against your hips, you were too short in comparison to him to feel him where you wanted to most.

He spoke to you in kisses, telling you of how ravenous he was for you and that he was going to savour every moment. He moved his lips down, trailing open mouthed kisses from your neck to your collarbones and to the top of your breasts.

“This fucking dress” He took ahold of the bottom of your dress, pulling it up above your head with urgency as you lifted your arms to better help him strip you. Throwing the dress down onto the floor and hearing it land somewhere behind him, he admired your body and it’s curves.

“The perfect wrapping for such an enticing present.” He finished his sentence. Immediately grabbing at your breasts, sucking and kissing them.

You couldn’t speak, too enthralled with the technique of his tongue swirling around your nipple to do anything but moan in response to him.

You threw your head back against the door, staring up that the beautifully patterned ceiling in pure ecstasy. You felt him drag a callused hand down to the waistband of your Lacy white panties, tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach as he traced his fingers over it. His finger tips running across the little white bow that centred the waistband.

He collapsed down to his knees, yanking the delicate lingerie as he fell, leaving it to puddle around your ankles.

He teased your heat, moving from kissing the skin of your thighs to your folds, but not yet reaching the lengths you wanted him to, only adding fuel to the fire in between your legs.

“Please Duncan-” you begged him, desperately needing some kind of release from the binds of lust he had managed to wrap you in over the past 45 minutes.

“Ah ah, don't you remember? You don’t get to call me that.” He spoke.

“I’m sorry, Mr Shepherd.” You corrected yourself, recalling the conversation you had with him prior to coming upstairs.

“Mhmm, now as magnificent as that name sounds coming from you, I know that there’s something else you’d rather call me.” He hummed in disapproval, calmly redirecting your choice of name for him and reassuringly pressing his lips onto your clit.

You let out a stuttered gasp, you did want to call him that, but now you felt nervous due to the build up he had created.

“Com’n, sweetheart. Do you think I don't know why you’re here in the first place? Why else would you be sat all alone in the bar of a hotel you weren’t even staying at? You’re just another slut with daddy issues, sneaking down to an expensive hotel to scavenge for any man good enough to fuck you into submission. Isn’t that right?”

Mildly insulted at his all too accurate observation of you, but enjoying the effect his degrading words have on you none the less, you gave him what he wanted. “Mm yes daddy!” You whimpered out, admitting your ploy to him.

A low rumble emitted from his chest, your words setting off some kind of animal inside him. He dove his face down into your pussy, starting by sucking on your clit gently, flicking his tongue over it and applying more and more pressure as you writhed above him.

His mouth was closed around you now, his grey, speckled stubble scratching your already inflamed skin. You were taken aback by his skills, intwining your fingers through the curls in his hair and tugging on them with every wave of pleasure that hit you.

He snaked his large hand around your thigh, lifting it up to rest on his shoulder while he ate you out. Enjoying the new angle he was utilising, he hummed, sending vibrations through your nerves up to the pit of your stomach, bringing you closer to your climax.

“Mmh.. fuck daddy, i’m gonna cum!” He didn’t let off, his tongue perhaps fucking into you even faster since you told him how close you were. You locked stares as your orgasm took over your body, your lips forming an o as you screwed your eyebrows together in rapture.

He came back up, letting you taste yourself and he placed his lips on yours again. You eased into the kiss, a relaxed haze having taken over your body in your post-orgasm state. Feeling a slight breeze flow up the side of your form, you realised that Duncan still had all his clothes on whilst you had none. Deciding you needed to change this as soon as possible, you began unbuttoning his suit’s matching black blazer and shirt, rushing to feel his skin on yours.

He helped you, shrugging the shirt off his shoulders as you began to unthread his leather belt from the loops of his trousers. “You’re so impatient, little one.” He spoke.

“I think I’ve waited long enough, daddy.” You smirked, dropping the belt at his feet.

As soon as his shirt hit the floor you reached up, gliding your hands across the expanse of his bear chest, taking notice of how small your hands appeared in comparison to him. He watched you, relishing in the glimmer of entrancement that shone through your eyes as you ingested him.

He lifted you, his strong arms carrying you bridal style towards the king sized bed and throwing you down onto its crisp, satin sheets. Grabbing your ankles, he dragged you down the bed towards him and finished taking his pants off. His cock sprung free from the confines of his boxers, smacking against his stomach.

He clambered onto the bed, resting on his knees as he jerked himself in his hand, reluctantly groaning out at the first contact his neglected cock had received all night. His pressing cock had made it unfathomably hard not to just fuck you up against the door when he saw that sweet little way in which your face scrunched up as you came.

You were practically drooling, watching him fuck himself into his fist as his eyes scanned across your naked body. Not being able to wait any longer and wanting to finally feel his cock on your skin, you sat up slightly and reached out to touch him. But before you got the chance, he shoved you back down. leaning over you, he held your wrists down against the pillows with one hand and wrapped his other around your delicate throat.

“So greedy, baby” he stoked his thumb over the skin of your neck as he made his observation, watching you struggle underneath him.

“I just know what I want.” You toyed, your voiced coming out slightly muffled with the pressure of his large hand covering your voice box.

“Such an attitude, too.” His cock brushes over your cunt as he sways his head from side to side in disappointment and disproval. “Now sweetheart, you’re gonna stay exactly where you are and daddy’s gonna fuck you just like this, okay? So he can see that pretty little face of yours.”

You gulp at his words, anticipating the feeling of having him inside you. “Please just fuck me. Please.” You knew you sounded absolutely pathetic, but you didn’t care. Just needing him plummeting in and out of you as soon as possible.

He chuckled at your neediness. Taking his hands back from your wrists and grasping his cock, lining it up with your entrance and slowly pushing in, he let you adjust to his size.

Moaning out, you dug your nails into the bed sheets, watching his head drop down to yours as he closed his eyes in pleasure.

“Fuck, you take me so well.”

●●●●●●●●

He slipped his ringed finger into you, pushing against your spongy walls whilst you made a desperate attempt to suppress your moans. You bite down onto your nails, your elbow resting on the table as you put all your weight onto it for some kind of crutch.

He began with a slow pace, making sure you would feel every little movement he made. You heard him join into the conversation once again, mentioning something about an article he had seen from the Herald last month which had impressed him. You weren't even sure. You couldn't think for the pulsing beat of your own heart that filled your ears.

“You all right there, Y/N?” Your heavy breathing must have been a dead give away for something being up, being your father was now questioning you.

You felt Duncan stop his movements momentarily, joining the rest of the table in their standstill, staring at you as they awaited a reply, but his little act of sincerity didn't last too long.

“Yeah, uhm-“ you felt him slide a 2nd figure in, making you fake a cough as to stop the cry desperately trying to escape your throat from doing so.

“Yeah, I’m uh, just thirsty.” Hoping this would ward off the worried looks you were receiving, you were shocked when you heard Duncan chime in. “Oh don’t worry, we can get you something.”

He called the waiter over, asking him for a pitcher of lemonade and thanking him as he walked away, back towards the kitchen. You would have preferred some water, you thought, but you were far too focused on what was going on underneath the table to say anything.

“Now, where were we?” Seth began talking once more, bringing the attention back to where it should be. But Duncan? No. His attention stayed on you. Even more focused on fucking his fingers into than before, he sped up and began going even deeper now, curling them upwards until you were twitching.

You looked up at him pleadingly. You were getting too close to cumming for your own liking, so you grabbed onto his thigh and dug your nails into his expensive black dress pants, warning him. He shot you a devious grin, scissoring his fingers inside you and pressing his thumb down to rub sweet circles on your hooded clit, letting you know he didn’t intend on stopping.

He looked behind you suddenly. Following his gaze, you snapped your head to the side, trying to get a good look at what had grabbed his attention so abruptly.

It was the waiter. He had arrived with the pitcher of lemonade in hand and yet Duncan was still plummeting his hand into your pussy with such a speed you began to wonder if someone had actually noticed what was truly going on. I mean the waiter must know.

At this point you had let far too many questionable gasps leave your mouth, your breathing had become even more erratic as you grew closer to your orgasm. He knew you were about to break before he swiftly pulled his fingers out of you, wiping the juices that coated them back and front onto your skirt so he could pick up the glass on front of you, leaving you unsatisfied.

You scrambled to collect your thoughts and breath as he picked up the pitcher, pouring the ice cooled lemonade into your glass.

“Here.” He spoke. You lifted a shaky hand up to take the glass from him when the grasp he had on it ‘slipped’, spilling the contents of it the onto your lap.

“Oh!’ You jumped up, making the sweet, sticky liquid run off your skirt to your thighs, dripping down your legs and eventually onto the floor. The now empty glass falling with it.

“I am so sorry, Miss Y/L/N.” He picked up the glass, sitting it on the table before joining you in standing. Now he was stood, you could clearly see the dark tint of his cock straining against the constrictive fabric that was his dress pants. It sent a pulse of lust through your cunt.

“Duncan!” Hearing Annette voice her annoyance at her son for being so clumsy almost made you laugh. It was quite amusing seeing his mother reprimand him, being he was a grown man in his 40s.

“It’s okay, don’t worry. I-I’ll just go clean myself up in the bathroom. I don’t want to distract the meeting anymore than I already have.” You made eye contact with your father as he rubbed his temples.

He was annoyed at the scene you and Duncan had caused. You gave him an apologetic look, feeling bad for stressing him out even more than you already had with being late, but knowing it was technically Duncan’s fault and not yours.

“Please, let me help you clean up.” Duncan pushed his chair in, quickly grabbing some napkins off the table and resting his hand on your back to guide you towards the nearest bathroom, walking as fast as your weak legs would let him.

His hand stayed delicately placed on the small of your back, until you were out of the tables sight, at which point he took hold of your arm, clutching it like a vice as he dragged you through the bathroom door.

He locked the door behind him in preparation for what was to come. He needed to make sure nobody would be walking in on what he was about to do to you.

Looking back towards you, satisfied as ever now he had you alone, he waltzed on over, pinning you up against the counter with force. You could smell him on you again, same cologne from the night before. Dior, you guessed.

“You’re not very good at staying quiet, are you, Sweetheart?” He mused, hoisting you up onto the counter and forcefully cradling your face with both hands as he moved to kiss you deeply. His tongue ravenously re-familiarising itself with your mouth.

“You almost got us caught back there.” He spoke in between kisses. “Your poor, naive father, watching you. He was probably wondering why you kept squirming.” He voiced a dark giggle, moving down to suckle on your neck and push your skirt up your thighs.

“I almost got us caught? No. Y-you almost got us caught when you decided putting a second f-FUCK, finger into me whilst I was talking to him was a good idea!” You choked out, doing your best to fight through the pleasure of his lips finally grazing your skin as you watched him pull your panties down and slot them into his pants pocket.

“Awh poor baby. Did you not want your daddy knowing that you’re a greedy little slut for his new boss? Hm?” He admired the blossoming lavender and cherry bruises now forming on your neck as he teased, marvelling at the idea they could be noticed by your father once you finished.

He quickly opened his fly, pulling his dress pants and boxers down just enough that he could pump his cock in his hand. Gripping onto your hips for purchase, his fingers dug into you so viciously you could feel the marks he had left the night before. You knew after this, there would surely be more.

He thrust himself into you, earning a loud wail to fall from your lips. You arched your spine at the feeling of him pounding into you, making your head fall back against the mirror behind you. His hand shot up to the it as he gathered more speed, his pace growing far faster than you had anticipated.

“Was it too much for you? Taking my fingers in your cunt whilst you were trying oh so hard to concentrate? I almost made you cum on front of everyone.” You moaned out at his grotesque words, pulling your head up to rest your forehead on his shoulder.

“Answer me.” He pulled your chin up back to look at him, still pounding into you. The sound of your skin slapping against one another’s felt even louder in the small, tiled bathroom.

“Yes daddy! It was too much for me - AHH!!” You let yourself go limp against the mirror, giving yourself up to him entirely and wanting nothing more than for him to use you like his personal rag doll.

●●●●●●●●

Your throat was growing hoarser with every squeal you made. Duncan had been fucking you ruthlessly for what felt like hours now, constantly changing his pace from calm to aggressive and back again. His lips were mouthing over your peaked nipples, tongue slathering trails of saliva across your skin and teeth scrapping over dozens of tiny goosebumps.

“Such a filthy, fucking whore for me.” Squeezing down on your neck with one hand he uses his other to slap you. His ringed hand coming down across your fleshy cheek with a loud crack.

You gasped out, shocked at this move and feeling reinvigorated by the suddenness of it. His abuse only made you more attracted to him, causing your cunt to puddle its juices around his cock.

Slowing his thrusts down to an almost complete halt, he grabbed your jaw, yanking your mouth open just enough that when he dripped his spit down you could catch it. You moaned at the filth of his actions, tasting the bourbon he had drank earlier at the bar.

Following the thick thread of salvia that connected the two of you to each other, he brought his face back down to yours, bringing your sloppy lips together. Never giving you the chance to close your mouth before he slid his tongue into it.

Your lips part, foreheads leaning on each other with eyes locked as you scream and moan at his brutal fucking. “Such a good girl.” He praised you.

“Thank you daddy!!” You cry out, feeling tears brimming in your eyes at the deepness of his cock. You knew he was going to be good when he first pushed you up again that door, but this was insane. You had never felt his turned on before. Loving being completely at his mercy, but receiving none.

He pulled out suddenly, wrapping his hands around your stomach and flipping you over to your front. You got the just of what he wanted and clambered onto your hands and knees for him. He pushed his cock back into your folds, hips ricocheting off your ass immediately.

He pulled at your hair, lifting you up to his chest as he gruffed and groaned. He was much larger than you, making it easy for him to pull your head back enough that he could see the expression on your lust enthralled face.

“Tell me what you want, baby.” He demands, spanking your ass cheek and twisting your hair around in his hand. His other hand moved to your gaping mouth, pushing two fingers inside so you taste the metallic bite of his silver band.

You gag as he fucks your mouth, mumbling around his fingers in a desperate attempt at begging him to allow you to cum. You were getting so close now. You guys had been going for so long and your impending release wasn’t going to wait much longer.

“Fuckk, don’t worry sweetheart. Daddy’s close too.” He took his fingers out of your mouth, bringing them down to your clit and swiping at it furiously. You could feel your own spit on his fingers as the coil in your stomach tightened.

“Ohh Daddy’s gonna come so deep inside you, little one.. would you like that?” His breathes were uneven. Thrusts uncontrolled and sloppy.

“Yes!! Fuck, fuck, FUCK Daddy I’m cumming!!” Your cunt pulsated around his shaft, squeezing his own orgasm out of him even sooner than he expected as you screamed. You could taste the saltiness of your own tears, them having run down your cheekbones and into your agape mouth.

His cum flooded your walls, filling you up with his hips pressed against yours as he enveloped you in an embrace from behind. He uttered out a shudder against your temple, his breathe feeling hot and damp on your skin.

He set you back down on the bed and pulled his softening shaft out of you, moving his large hands back to your hips as your own gave out and fell underneath you, pressing your face into the sheets. You eventually rolled over to lay on your back, wanting to let your aftershocks roll through your quivering limbs more comfortably.

He fell down onto the duvet next to you, propping himself up on his side slightly and pulling you closer to him so he could plant a kiss on your swollen lips. “You alright? I didn't hurt too bad now, did I?” He stroked your face, words alluring as ever now your resting bare bodies were tangled up together in a complete stand still.

“Nothing that I didn't enjoy, no.” You joked, lightly drawing intricate shapes on his arm with your fingertips, still harnessing the blemishing sting his ring had left under your cheekbone. “I’d say we're pretty well aquatinted now; wouldn’t you, Daddy?”

●●●●●●●

You could feel cool drips of perspiration slipping down your heated skin from your forehead to your collar bones and all you could do was hope they hadn't taken any of the concealer you had applied earlier this morning with them. You had needed to cover the bruise Duncan’s ring had so easily left on your cheek the night before, since you really didn't want your father or anyone else from work seeing it.

Duncan’s cock was curving in all the right places as he hammered into you. His pace and brutality showing you stars. He seemed even more confident than he did yesterday. Having had experience with you, he knew that you could take his most heinous savagery with delight and didn’t hold off one bit.

His huffs and groans were tantalising, growing louder and more uncontrolled as he fucked you into oblivion. His hand squeaked as it fell down the steamed mirror he leant on, leaving the glass behind you and finding its way to your jaw. He brought your face to his own and kissed you, loudly moaning into your open mouth.

You giggled through your mewls. “Mmm.. I thought I was the loud one, daddy.” You were amused that he had been teasing you so adamantly about the volume of your pleasure, when he was now the one making all the noise.

He paused, quirking an eyebrow at you before slamming his hips into you with a thrust so strong it made you practically scream out. “Oh, my apologises, sweetheart.” He smirked as he picked up his pace once more.

You wrapped your hands in his perfectly styled hair. You no longer cared who knew what was really happening in here, the thought didn’t even cross your mind. All you cared for was chasing your high. You rutted your hips on his and took his length entirely, feeling dangerously close to cumming.

“Fuckkk baby, daddy’s gonna cum okay?. Cum with me princess. Fall apart on my cock.” His unfocused thrusts had you coming undone in seconds. You held onto him tight, digging your nails into his shoulders and pulling at his curls as you cried out in ecstasy.

He shot his seed into you, feeling all his pent up frustrations from earlier at the table leave him as he pushed himself deep into your abused cunt. He didn’t even attempt to stifle his moans, too invested in finally receiving his release to realise just how loud he was being.

He rested his forehead on yours, your sweaty skin pressed against each other as you both attempted to catch your breathes after such a quick, ruthless fuck. You started laughing, finding it utterly ridiculous that you had spent the majority of a meeting you had been terrified for, getting fucked by your new boss (and the man you had fucked the night before) in a restaurant bathroom.

He joined in laughing, clearly finding humour within this strange situation too. Interrupting your laugh, he pushed his lips into yours, kissing you as if your lips were some kind of prize. You felt his cock slip from your cunt, his seed immediately spilling from it as you were left with a sudden, empty sensation.

He made quick work of zipping his pants back up and fastening his belt. You tugged your skirt back down to your thighs, being reminded of how Duncan had snatched your panties and stashed them in his pants pocket. You guessed you wouldn’t be getting them back anytime soon, which you were okay with, you just hoped nobody saw his remnants leaving you left the bathroom.

You flattened out your skirt and felt the wet sticky lemonade that still coated it. You had completely forgotten to clean it. “Fuck, my skirt's still sticky! Why would you order lemonade?” You whined; still mad he hadn’t just ordered some water.

Awaiting a reply, you turned to check your make up in the mirror. Luckily it was pretty light today, so it still looked good other than the bruise on your cheek now being slightly more obvious than before. What really concerned you was your neck. It was covered in every shade of purple and red you were aware existed. If your father and coworkers didn’t know what was going on from how weird you were being at the table before, or how long it had taken the two of you to finish in the bathroom, or the noises that were emitting from it, they would definitely know after seeing all the claims he had left on your skin.

“I’m sorry, I just didn’t think that spilt water would have been a good enough excuse to get you all alone in here.” He chuckled to himself, leaning over to rest his chin on your head and wrapping his arms around your waist as he joked over his mischievousness.

“But we should probably head back out there. I’m sure your father’s going to apprentice the beautiful mosaic I’ve painted across your neck” he kissed the bruises he spoke of as he watched you through the mirror.

You scoffed at him, gifting yourself one last look before completely giving up on finding a way you could make your face and neck appear more presentable for heading back to the table.

Duncan opened the bathroom door, nodding his head towards the hallway and waiting for you to hurry up and join him.

The two of you started walking back, your legs struggling to take your weight with how weak they had become. Your heels clicked along the floor, making you far more aware of how soon you would be sitting back down with everyone from work. Like a clock counting down to all the judgmental stares you would surly be receiving.

You kept your eyes trained on the floor as you took your seat at the table. Seths voice trailed off upon seeing the two of you sit down, leaving you both in the middle of an uncomfortable silence that felt near suffocating.

“What took so long!” You could hear the anger and perhaps embarrassment in Annettes voice as she whispered to Duncan. She looked towards you, glaring and scowling before retiring her vision back to him. She was probably hoping that what she assumed to have occurred hadn’t, but from the marks clearly decorating your neck, she would have known it to be true.

“Oh, we just couldn’t get the lemonade out of her skirt.” He tut as he spoke to his mother, smiling and playing off any obvious suspicions. “I’m sorry, really.” He placed a hand on her shoulder, dripping with a sincerity you knew to be false.

“So what was it we were discussing?” he speaks louder now, addressing the rest of the table.

“Uhh actually, I think we have a deal.” Seth replied, looking over at him and then the rest of the table. You heard your father mutter something in agreement, but it was meek. Quiet. He must have felt the awkward tension too. It was ripe in the air, like a shiver you couldn’t shake off. You didn't even want to look at him, knowing If anyone there felt most uncomfortable, it was him.

Saying their goodbyes and finishing up with any last details, everyone stood to shake hands and bid their farewells. You felt your fathers scowl as he came and stood beside you, but you didn't dare look at him. You were too ashamed to face him whilst still with your coworkers.

Duncan walked over to your father, looking more satisfied than ever with his eyes still focused on you as he thanked him for meeting and shook his hand firmly.

“It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Mr Y/L/N.” He let go of your fathers hand only to take a hold of yours. He grasped it delicately, a touch more gentle than he had ever shown you previously. Assuming he was trying you shake it, you were more than surprised when he raised it to his lips, kissing your rosey knuckles; still red from the tight grip you had, had on his hair earlier.

“I look forward to working with you in the future, Y/N.” He graced you with once last signature smirk as he walked away, leaving you with your father who was waiting for an explanation and apology for your disgusting and foolish behaviour.

Maybe it hadn’t been the worst way to spend lunch.

Tags: @sojournmichael @dark-mei-rose @ntxoza @angelicmichael @jimmason @michaellangdonstanaccount @blakescoven @7-wonders @ghostangels @fernfiction @brattylovee @melodylangdon @brooklinn13 @instincts-baby

#duncan shepherd #duncan shepherd x female reader #duncan shepherd x reader #duncan shepherd smut #house of cards fic #older!duncan #older!duncan shepherd #older!duncan x reader #boss!duncan #boss!duncan shepherd #boss!duncan shepherd x reader #daddy duncan #cody fern #cody fern fic #my writing

[dragonologist-in-the-making]

You’re Here

Pairing: sirius x fem!reader

Summary: it’s sirius’ birthday, so the reader decides to finally confess their feelings.

a/n: eeeeee I’m back!! Sorry it was such a long break, I can’t promise this is a permanent return but it’s Sirius’ birthday today so I had to do a special fic for him xx hope you enjoy!!

wordcount: 2k

…

He sat in front of the fire, the warm glow from the dying flames flickering on his face, in a way that could easily enchant anybody who happened to be watching the scene. In fact, it already had. y/n was sat on the sofa, pretending to be engaged in the conversation happening around her as she couldn’t help but let her eyesight drift back to the raven haired boy sat in front of her. She’d noticed this starting to happen in their fifth year, and despite knowing what it meant and trying to push the feelings away, here she was in her last year of Hogwarts, still hopelessly in love with her best friend.

“Well, I think I’m going to head upstairs.” His soft voice entered the conversation, as he stretched and dragged himself off the floor, sleep clearly weighing his eyes down. The group of friends all wished him a goodnight and a brief silence settled over the common room as he left, leaving the group of four friends to sit with their thoughts for a second.

y/n sat with her knees pulled up, thinking of her friendship with Sirius, how close they had always been. She’d been part of the Marauders since that first day on the train, and had always loved the four of them, but she couldn’t help the pull she had to Sirius. Maybe how it was despite everything he’d been through with his family, he was never scared to be vulnerable around her. Maybe it was how no matter how many girls he kissed, he would save his brightest smiles for her, and would (and had) drop any of them the second she had said she needed him, no matter how insignificant an outsider might have thought the reason to be. Wrapped up in her thoughts, she felt her cheeks warming, a combination of the warmth from the fire and the warmth from her heart. However, when a voice finally broke through the silence, embarrassment won over, heating her cheeks more than anything had so far.

“Merlin, y/n, you look like a lost puppy. Can you both please just admit your feelings to each other so we can get past this.” She glared at James between her fingers, throwing a pillow with deadly aim, smirking as he squeaked in surprise. “I do mean it though, there’s nothing to lose.”

“He does talk about you constantly. It’s rather sweet, if you forget how annoying it is.” Remus piped up, putting a hand on her shoulder reassuringly. “You both know how the other feels, you’re just too scared to say it out loud, in case you cross a line you can’t go back on.”

“And this middle ground won’t stop things from going south, if you never talk about it.” Peter added as the boys began to collect their things, clearly going to join their dormmate and retire for the evening. As they all said their goodnights, y/n sat alone thinking over their words, a plan forming in her mind as she glanced out the window at the glistening October sky.

…

She sat at her desk, November 2nd, folding the parchment once the ink had dried, sealing it and carefully writing his name on the front. She waited in the common room, heart racing as the fire died beside her, up much later than was healthy, but determined, the anxiety helping to keep her awake as she waited for the elves. Finally they came, and with a kind smile and a little pleading, they promised to take the letter from her and leave it and the end of Sirius’ bed, amongst the pile of presents that was undoubtedly there for when he woke up. She smiled to herself, glad that so far everything had seemed to go smoothly, and went back to her dorm to try and sleep, feeling finally that good things were on their way.

Sirius woke up to the cheers and whoops of the boys, singing a badly harmonised happy birthday tune. He laughed, sitting up and reaching to start opening his presents, knowing the harassment would only end when he had done so. He spotted a letter with his name on it in familiar handwriting, one for sure he knew hadn’t been there when he had gone to sleep the night before, and quickly slipped it under his pillow, deciding to read it when the boys weren’t watching his every move. He flew through the present opening, and soon enough his three friends were preoccupied in getting ready for their classes, giving him the spare few minutes he needed to inspect his most interesting present of all. He carefully unfolded the letter, his heart rate picking up as he spotted y/n’s handwriting and how carefully it had been written, free from the usual scribbles and splotches he saw when she wrote.

Siri,

Happy birthday, love, I know you were worried about today, with it being the first birthday since you moved in with the Potter’s, but today’s about you, and your real family are all here to celebrate with you, and for you, as you turn seventeen and start to think about life past graduation (with all of us by your side, of course). I know this is a slightly unconventional present, and I would appreciate it if you kept this a bit of a secret for the boys, for now at least.

I just wanted to say how proud I am of you. You’ve faced more than I could ever imagine and had to grow up so fast, but you’ve always been unwaveringly loyal to your friends, considerate and kind throughout it all, truly striving to become the opposite of who you were raised to be. I’m so, so, glad that you took my hand that day on the platform, bringing me into your carriage on the train. I couldn’t picture a life without you, and sometimes I forget just how insanely lucky I am to have you around. Believe that, because I know you’re feeling sceptical right now, but I mean it. You’re phenomenal in every way.

Y/n sat at the table in the great hall, eating a pancake and sipping on her tea trying to push down her nerves waiting for the marauders to come and join her as they did every morning. Hopefully, Sirius would have read the letter by now, and she could have some closure either way. Preferably not one way, though. She heard them before she saw them, the loud laughs bouncing through the Entrance Hall, recognisable to anyone in the school. Despite her nerves, she couldn’t help but smile as they walked in, enthusiastically waving to her as they walked over, sitting down in their usual seats. Some of the tension dropped from her shoulders as Sirius sat next to her, gracing her with a smile.

“Happy birthday, Siri.” She smiled, heart catching as his fingers grazed hers under the table. Was it intentional? “Get any nice presents this morning?” She hinted, hoping she could keep up the façade if everything crumbled around her. To her glee, his smile stretched a little wider, a glint in his eye she knew, one that meant he was keeping a secret. Luckily, she was in on it too.

“Couldn’t have asked for anything better.” He smiled, staring straight at her, winking quickly before turning away and filling his plate up with food. She grabbed his hand more firmly under the table, feeling her confidence grow even more when he squeezed it back. She smiled down at her plate, barely believing this could be happening. The rest of breakfast passed in a blur and soon they were heading their separate ways to classes. With one last birthday wish, y/n and Sirius were dragged away from each other, more reluctant than ever before to be anywhere but at each other’s side.

I also wanted to thank you. You’ve never failed to be there for me, whenever I’ve needed you, without having to say a thing. You make me laugh impossibly hard, to the point where I can’t breath and my sides hurt almost constantly. You have a way of twisting anything into something positive and you truly make me believe you when you tell me that things will work out okay. I think in part, I believe they will be okay, because it’s you. With you, everything is okay. In fact, okay is a major understatement. With you, everything is perfect and right.

After dinner, an hour full of more stolen glances and secret hand-holding, y/n had urged the boys upstairs while she carried onto the seventh floor, pacing in front of the tapestry until a door appeared. She walked across the room lightly, trying to focus as she decorated but her thoughts kept drifting back to a certain man, and even though she was fairly sure of the outcome, she couldn’t help but keep the nerves at bay.

You’ve always been the best of friends to me Siri. But if I’m being honest, for a long time now you’ve also been so much more than that. When I’m with you I can feel truly safe, like no matter what happens it can’t touch me because you’re there and you dull everything else. I would be lying if I said I was indifferent to your charms. You’re utterly gorgeous, and my heart flutters when you give me that brilliant smile, the one that I know you save just for me, the one that makes me fall a little harder every time I see it. Your touch is electric, nothing else can be simultaneously so adrenaline-sparking and so comforting. I love the fact that you learned to braid hair for me now that Lily’s all busy with James. Sirius, I love you.

And unless I’m horribly mistaken, I think you love me too. Our friends seem to think so. So tonight, I’ll be in the Room of Requirement with some music, waiting for a dance. If you don’t show, I completely understand, and I won’t bring this up again. But if you feel the same, I hope this was a good enough birthday present for you to.

Yours, if you’ll have me,

Y/n

She finished lighting the last candle, hearing the door handle turn behind her, and the soft creek of the old door opening. She turned, seeing him stood there, the letter in his hand, usual confident aura gone in favour of one that was utterly relaxed. Her face broke out into a breath-taking grin and she bounced forward the few steps that it took to close the gap, straight into his open arms.

“You’re here.” She breathed, finally feeling all the tension and the nerves leave as she admired him, eyes searching his for any trace of doubt and finding none.

“Of course I’m here, there’s no where else I’d want to be.” He smiled, stuttering her heart. “Thank you for the letter, I’ll cherish it forever.” His hand moved to cup her jaw, as the other stayed circled around her waist. She couldn’t do anything but stare at him, completely enthralled in the moment, lost in him. The record playing softly changed to a new tune, and Sirius slowly began to sway the two of them, moving ever so minimally to the beat of the music, neither able to look away from the other.

“I’ll write more.” She broke the silence, “I’ll write them forever as long as you enjoy them. I’ll give you everything I can.”

“I only need your heart. That’s already more than I could imagine.”

“It’s been yours for a long time. Keep it, I like the way you love it.”

“I do,” he breathed out, watching her eyebrows furrow slightly in confusion. “I love it. I love you, y/n.”

He leaned in closer, seeming to hesitate for a moment, looking into her eyes, seeming to ask permission. She nodded, maybe too eagerly, eliciting a laugh from him as her eyes fluttered closed and he pressed his lips to hers, slowly and softly moving together before they broke apart again.

“Happy birthday, love.” She smiled, leaning in again as the dance was all but forgotten.

#harry potter #harry potter x reader #harry potter fic #sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius #sirius black x reader #marauders #marauders era #marauders x reader #happy birthday sirius #padfoot #padfoot x reader

[emerywrites]

Fanfic: “Please don’t make a fuss”

So, I recently got back into Harry Potter and reread all of the books. Percy Weasley is one of my favorite characters and since its his birthday I wrote a fic. I hope that people enjoy it. :) 

 Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Percy hated anyone making a fuss about his birthday. For twenty years he got away with passing it by with little acknowledgement. One year his daughters decide to change that.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: survivors guilt, PTSD

Percy always did his best to ignore his birthday. During the time that he had been estranged from his family, he had seen little reason to make a fuss about his birthday and the habit had stuck with him. Soon after he and Oliver had reignited their relationship, he told him that he didn’t want any birthday celebrations. Oliver had respected that other than a small gift and a “Happy birthday, love” the morning of August 22nd every year.

When Molly and Lucy were old enough to understand birthdays, things had changed, of course. They insisted on making homemade cards and having a cake. Percy allowed it and ate a small piece of cake as he admired their artistic efforts.

He remembered some particularly interesting cards on his birthday after they’d turned five. “That’s you, Daddy, and that’s me and that’s a dragon!” Molly had explained as she pointed to barely discernable shapes she had drawn in crayon.

“Oh, a dragon, how unique, dear,” he said to his daughter before leaning over to mutter to Oliver, “She’s been spending too much time with Charlie.”

Lucy showed him her own art of their family playing quidditch and Percy had been just as encouraging. It was easy to enjoy a birthday with small children who were an easy distraction. When they were young, he could allow his birthday to be more about them than himself.

But as they got older, that changed. His daughters wanted to get him gifts with their pocket money. They asked why they had birthday celebrations at the Burrow for everyone else in the family and why they went to see Papa’s family on his birthday, but never did any of that for Daddy. It was difficult to explain the complicated emotions that went along with Percy’s desire to not think about his birthday. So, he never did. He only ever said that all he wanted for his birthday was peace and quiet with his husband and daughters.

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

Molly and Lucy were fifteen and August 22nd had come around yet again. They successfully avoided mentioning his birthday other than a kiss on his cheek that morning with a “Happy birthday, Dad”. The rest of the day was spent in Diagon Alley getting their school supplies and of course a special gift for Molly for being made prefect and Lucy for being made captain of the quidditch team. Percy was more than happy to make their successes the focus of the day.

After they got home, Molly ran upstairs to try on her new robes with her prefect’s badge. Moments later she came running back down. “I can’t find my badge!” Percy promised her that they would look until they found it.

Then Lucy piped up with, “I think you left it at the Burrow yesterday, when we went to show Grandmum and Granddad.”

Molly gasped. “You’re right! We have to go get it, right now.”

“Alright,” Percy agreed. “Ollie, you take Molly to get the badge. Lu and I can get started on dinner.”

“Dad, you know how Gran is, she’ll be disappointed if we don’t stay for dinner,” Molly told him. “We should all go.”

That was when Percy got suspicious. But he didn’t want to act paranoid and relented into going along. He side-long apparated with Lucy and Oliver with Molly. When they showed up outside of the Burrow, Percy immediately knew something was wrong. None of his nieces or nephews were outside running around. Usually there were at least a couple of them always underfoot no matter where you went around the Burrow.

He got a bad feeling that he knew what was about to happen. “Ollie, I’m not feeling too well. The three of you can stay. I’ll just go back…” But the three of them were already going up to the door. Percy followed, feeling his stomach twist into a knot as he desperately hoped that he was wrong in his prediction.

They entered the Burrow, just for the entire family to shout, “Surprise!” Every one of his siblings and their families were there, crammed inside his childhood home. It was overwhelming to see all of their smiling faces, there for him. Percy’s first instinct was to bolt and he would have if it had not been for him backing straight into his husband’s strong chest. He swallowed hard and plastered on a grin.

Percy kindly thanked them for such an amazing surprise. Everyone explained how it had all been Molly and Lucy planning the whole thing. Oliver hadn’t even known about it as the girls knew that he could never keep a secret from Percy.

Percy told himself, he would just get through the evening. He could do it. He’d often enough kept up a façade for politicians and department heads that he had to socialize with. He’d managed to trick Death Eaters into thinking that he wasn’t a threat to their take over of the ministry. It should be easy to pretend to his family that he was happy on his birthday.

They all sat outside at tables magically extended to their limit to hold the, what seemed to be, ever-growing number of Weasleys. Percy sat next to Oliver who was holding an enthusiastic conversation about quidditch with Ginny. His daughters were a bit further down the table talking animatedly with their cousins. He caught a few words of Molly bragging about her new status as prefect in the up-coming school year. Percy tried not to think about his twin brothers’ teasing about “perfect prefect Percy” and how he kind of wished he could reminisce with Fred and George about it. And, now he was thinking about Fred…

Percy hadn’t even noticed that his mother had gone inside. Then she was suddenly coming back out into the garden, floating a towering chocolate cake that had his name in icing. Freddie and Roxanne’s set of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes patented fireworks flashed and screamed through the sky. Percy thought he was going to throw up. He flinched and saw flashes of the walls of Hogwarts castle coming down… Fred’s lifeless eyes…

Percy stood abruptly, knocking his chair backwards. Everyone’s attention turned to him. Smiles faded from their faces when they saw the panicked expression he wore. “I have to go,” he said shakily.

He ran inside, knowing that there was no way he was steady enough to apparate. The intention was to take the floo home but the powder was not on the mantle where it usually was. He was about to try and summon it when Oliver came running in.

“Percy! Percy, what happened out there?” Oliver’s voice was so concerned and that just made Percy feel worse for making a scene.

“I can’t do this, Ollie,” he said hoarsely. There was a lump of emotion in his throat that made it difficult to get his words out. “I can’t be here.”

“Why not, love? I know you don’t like people to make a fuss about your birthday but the girls really wanted to do something special. They wanted to give you a proper birthday.”

“And they are lovely for wanting to do that. But you don’t understand!” How did he explain it? How could he, when saying it out loud would hurt more than anything?

Then Oliver was much closer. He put his hands on either side of Percy’s face and used his thumbs to wipe away the tears that Percy didn’t even realize he had shed. “Love, you’re scaring me. What is going on?”

Percy gently took his wrists and pushed the hands away. “I hate my birthday,” he said slowly. “After… after I left, I stopped caring about my birthday. I had my work and it just felt like another distraction.”

Oliver nodded. “So, you’re out of practice in celebrating. We can fix that. We’ll just start a bit smaller next time.” He laughed as if it was that easy.

“That’s not it!” he snapped. He was shouting. He didn’t mean to be but no one understood and they wouldn’t until he got it out. He couldn’t help but look away toward the fireplace. The words that sat on the tip of his tongue weren’t supposed to be out there. They were meant to stay there in his heart, slowly eating him alive. At least there, they couldn’t damage anyone else. “My birthday is just a reminder, Ollie! It’s a reminder that I get another year, year after year! I get to grow old and Fred doesn’t! It’s a reminder to my family that the wrong son survived! I can pretend… I can pretend that I’m okay if I just don’t let anyone make a fuss about celebrating. It feels wrong to make them celebrate it.”

Percy finally allowed himself to look at Oliver. His husband was staring at him, his mouth opening and closing like he didn’t know what to say, but was struggling to find the words. But just past Oliver, standing at the threshold of the kitchen, was his father looking at him with pain-filled eyes.

“Is that what you really believe?” Arthur asked as he approached. “That we think the wrong son survived?”

Percy really wished he had just pushed through and gotten to the end of the dinner. He should have found a way to keep the smile on his face and his bum in his chair. Now, he was hurting his father all over again. “No!” he tried to lie. “I…it’s…” Both his father and his husband looked at him with pity and that was humiliating. There was no point in lying when they could see through him like a ghost. “Yes, that’s… that’s always what I believed. How could I not? It felt like the cost of me returning to the family was Fred’s life. Like it was some sort of horrible exchange. And you lost, someone as well-loved as Fred to get me… the broken one who came back too late.”

“None of us have ever thought that,” Arthur said with an adamant shake of his head. “Losing Fred was a tragedy. That loss is always going to be there. But I also got a son back that day, Percy. And I apologize, that we obviously didn’t do enough to make you feel fully welcomed back and that you thought we wouldn’t want to celebrate having you.”

“Dad, you don’t need to-” But then his dad was hugging him. It was strange. He tried to remember the last time his dad had hugged him like that. It had been a while.

When he was eventually released, he realized that Oliver had slipped out of the room. His dad looked at him and cleared his throat. “If you need to go home, I can tell everyone that you weren’t feeling well. But I think everyone would really love for you to stay.”

“I’ll stay,” he said softly as he adjusted his glasses. “Molly and Lucy did put a lot of work into this.”

The reassurance had been needed but the fear of being unwanted still sat like a heavy stone on his chest. But then he followed his dad back outside to the garden. Everyone turned to look at him and in overlapping voices said how happy they were he came back out. George came out of nowhere to throw an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t worry, I told the little troublemakers to cool it with the fireworks,” George whispered into his ear. “They can set me off too sometimes.”

Then George was pulling him over to the cake, sitting on the table. The candles had been placed and were alight. A spell had been used to keep the wax from melting onto the icing. Molly and Lucy ran up beside him.

“Make a wish, Dad!” Lucy encouraged.

Percy let his eyes fall shut for a moment as he made his wish. Then he opened them again and blew out the candles. Everyone cheered and his mother gave him a kiss on the cheek before she went to serve the cake.

The overwhelming love he felt in that moment was almost too much. It had soothed his fear to the point that it had gone dormant. It would come back but he had a feeling its potency had been dulled.

“What’d you wish for?” Lucy asked softly.

“For every birthday to be as amazing as this one,” he replied.

#cw survivor guilt #cw ptsd #percy weasley #percy x oliver #oliver wood #molly weasley ii #lucy weasley #emerywrites fanfic #fanfiction

[ahwait-no-yes]

so basically my friend told me today about her dream she had that involved a demon and of course my mind went “...SAIOU AU”

here’s our convo so it makes sense:

if I had the motivation i would DEFINITELY write a fic about this- the fluff/crack/angst potential is t h e r e

and as a bonus doodle,

story is under the cut (it’s long)

“I was gonna keep this in tags but hsdf;j” is what I originally wrote here until I started thinking about this more and sorta wrote the whole plot-

-> as ouma’s killing the other monster things he flirts with shuuichi while the poor demon has never been flirted with so he’s stood there all confused and ??? (his version of blushing would be like, the fire coming from his small horns gets bigger and brighter)

-> the one he summons ends up being like. kaede and they both just end up having to lecture shuuichi on why it is that he should not want to die so easily

-> eventually kokichi and kaede wanna give him a hug so they try to but shuuichi’s Extra Hot™ (from being a demon and also probably blushing) so they both immediately regret that choice but kokichi laughs and gives an obligatory pun about shuuichi being hot which only confuses him because ‘of course im hot?? im a demon??’ while kaede explains what ouma meant

-> imagine shuuichi crying (fire tears..) at the generosity of these two strangers who a) aren’t absolutely terrified of him, b) refuse to hurt him and c) actually *want* to help him and ouma actually inwardly understanding a little bc he’d never imagine someone actually wanting to be with himself either

-> saihara now wanting to know what it’s like to live as a human with ouma and akamatsu but being unable to find a way (except for maybe being undercover?) but promising he’ll bring ouma back to him (he’s aware of the whole aging phenomenon in the lil demon world so he wants to keep their time short) and ouma finding that now he has something to look forward to

-> the 👏 mutual 👏 pining 👏 that commences after they both have to leave each other (if kaede knows kokichi in the real world she’d definitely tease him a little knowing he has a crush- this is probably good potential for building oumaede friendship)

-> it takes a while before ouma and saihara can see eachother again because getting the two to escape without killing saihara exerted a lot of energy on him, but they do get to! about once a month to be safe, and they get to know stuff about eachother like which shops ouma likes to steal from and shuuichi’s really loud demon friend he once had (aka momota)

-> one day though saihara tells ouma that if he keeps doing this he’ll die of exhaustion (it takes a lot of energy from saihara to get ouma in and out of there) and ouma calling him an idiot but really being worried. saihara tells him not to worry about him even if something happens to him, and makes ouma go back to the real world

-> ouma doesn’t hear from him after that

-> he worries he might have been killed or saihara forgot about him and feels stupid for being so hopeful in something so childishly impossible and starts trying to forget about him

-> the real world is aware of demons cause people talk about them (and obvs you can tell when someone’s gone to their.. dimension thing because you can visibly see them age) so still denying that he’s curious and likes saihara still, ouma tries to go to libraries and do his own research on demons and ends up finding out that saihara specifically comes from a bloodline that makes him quite powerful if not for that he wouldnt want to take the risks that come with it and then lowkey gets excited again for saihara while still in ✨denial ✨

-> it’s been almost a year when saihara has enough energy (and more) to ensure that his new plan is successfully carried out and that ouma (and potentially 1 more..) gets back to the real world safely. he created this plan when he figured out how to exist in the real world- by sacrificing the thing he cares most about

-> so when ouma suddenly gets that off-feeling people get when they’re leaving the real world he feels very many emotions at once (giddily going ”ohh my god its not this it cant be this no way oh heck tthisis not happening not a chance”) until he sees the face he’s been waiting 4 months for again except this time it looks.. frighteningly cold

-> ouma’s instincts are screaming at him that something is very, very wrong here especially when he can’t hear any warmth when saihara says “Welcome back, Ouma. It’s your final time” and explains the whole ‘kill these monsters then kill me’ thing again

-> ouma’s confusion inevitably turns to annoyance as he kills the dudes (there appears to be a lot more than there was last time) and fires questions at saihara (‘is this saihara?’ ‘what happened to you??’ ‘do you even remember me?’) while saihara stays silent for the whole time thinking about how he really doesn’t want to be doing this. 

-> eventually ouma decides he was wrong (again) to have put his faith in a guy- a demon- he only met once a month.. even if said demon gave him something to look forward to

-> when he finally gets to saihara alone he internally notes that saihara cant look him in the eye, but he finally speaks to tell ouma that now either himself or ouma will now die (saihara knows this is for sake of the sacrifice, but he can’t let ouma know else it won’t work)

-> ouma refuses to fight him again, expecting saihara to snap back into the meek demon from a year and some months ago, but rather than that happening saihara actually says something like “if you won’t kill me, I’ll have to kill you” and swings at him

-> even if ouma was on his full guard, he still would’ve been surprised by how strong saihara actually could be when he tried to fight- and of course saihara can’t stop now that he’s started but ouma hears the hesitation when saihara asks “are you going to kill me yet?” and gets annoyed that the whole time he spent with him and even akamatsu meant nothing. saihara smiles sadly knowing he’s achieving his goal but ouma thinks he’s smiling at the thought of dying and gets somehow even more annoyed

-> during their whole fight, insert “I’m alone, Ouma, and I will always be” line from saihara, “No amount of talking can convince me otherwise, Ouma. I’m sorry it took so long, but it was foolish of you to trust a demon you met only once” or something and yes it hurts saihara too but ouma’s staying silent and before saihara can continue, ouma fires back with “You’re right- you are meant to be alone. You were always meant to be that kind of guy” and stops dodging to start finally attacking- this is when saihara knows he’s pretty much achieved his target: sacrificing ouma’s trust in him

-> just as ouma swipes at him, saihara’s lil spell thing is activated that takes saihara back to the real world, disguised so people don’t see him as a demon. but now ouma thinks he’s just killed saihara (I just attacked him. and he is gone. i dont know what that light was but i must have just killed him. oh my god im a murderer.”)

-> saihara hiding in the forest to do the lil spell thing again but on ouma (all the time he spent saving on energy was worth it) so ouma gets transported to the real world too and immediately runs to tell akamatsu everything that happened

-> saihara trying to find to blend in with humans from what he remembers of how they act but he doesnt need to particularly eat he just needs a heck ton of sleep so he basically just lives in the forest now. he’s very sensitive to water so he actively stays away from it too (it wont kill him but it does make him sick). he’s still feverishly warm but not scalding and he also decides to work at a store to fit in more

-> ouma regretting what he did to saihara even though saihara hurt him first and realising he misses him

-> saihara ends up accidentally bumping into him at the store he works at that ouma conveniently steals from a lot (”Ouma, you’d make a good demon” “Nishishi! What do you mean? I’m a perfect little angel!”) and saihara gasping when he notices ouma’s unforgettable purple hair and cute smile.

-> ouma finding something familiar about this awkward new staff with the cute face and deciding he’ll visit the shop more often to see this stranger and not because said stranger might help him get over his demon crush

-> then they get to know eachother again for the 2nd time, and as much as this guy is really cute, he clearly knows more than he’s letting on... so of course ouma’s gotta now pay even more attention to him. just so he knows what the guy’s hiding. not cause he wants to know him.

-> one day saihara is sick from trying to protect himself from the rain (cause yk, water bad) so he stays in the forest instead of coming in to focus his energy on getting better and also not blowing his cover. ouma notices he isnt there on that day and asks other staff members where he lives and they’re all like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 

-> it rains quite a bit after that, inevitably making saihara even more sick and in turn needing time away to himself, so ouma starts getting worried when saihara stops coming to work

-> saihara really wants to see him though, so one day he tries to drag himself to work in a terrible state where he’s actually almost cold for once and collapses after trying to run to ouma. ouma sees him and tells his manager he cant work nd takes him home himself where saihara wakes up confused

-> ouma lecturing saihara because he worried him and the way he fell reminded him of.. someone (demon shuu).. then he asks vague questions to saihara about if he’s ever met a demon and half-confesses to having met one himself multiple times and ending up falling in love and then probably killing them

-> saihara, in his tired state, tells him his story of how he was raised to believe he had no purpose other than to meet someone who would kill him, eventually finding that person but instead of looking at him with fear or anger he looked at him with admiration and playfulness, how the guy meant to kill him refused to and flirted w him instead. ouma has probably clicked on by this point but saihara continues to tell him he wanted to protect that guy with the power he had so he took time away from his first ‘job’ to find out how to be with him. saihara is probably shaking at this point while he continues telling him about how he found out he had to sacrifice the most important thing to him, so he “went and had a terrible argument with him one day and i ran away. but i’ve never stopped looking for him since, he showed me that even a demon like me can fall in love” (there’s the ✨grand confession ✨)

-> ouma saw it coming from the moment saihara started speaking, but that didnt stop him from being utterly paralysed. of COURSE saihara has to say “When I said you’d make a good demon I really wasn’t lying. Your hand is so warm it could fool even me” which possibly makes ouma completely combust before absolutely bolting out the door and calling akamatsu to tell her to get to his house (”AKAMATSU-CHAN I’M GONNA DIE RIGHT NOW IF YOU DON’T GET HERE ABSOLUTELY RIGHT THIS SECOND”)

-> while waiting for kaede, shuuichi explains that he needs to be Warm™ and immediately holds kokichi’s hold again, while the other’s having a gay panic.. and he doesnt know how to feel because on one hand, his beloved demon is.. right here, in the ‘flesh’, holding his hand, telling him he fell in love with him.. but on the other hand, that doesnt excuse the confusion and hurt he put him through back then, not being able to see him for a whole damn year.. 

-> ouma ignores all the feelings when akamatsu arrives where she’s brought water and blankets (just in case- i feel like shes the kind of friend who would do that) so saihara takes the blankets and ouma takes the water and she calms them both down and gets them to explain everything slowly and in their own time. its awkward esp for ouma who isnt particularly close with her, but they manage it in the end

-> they decide shuuichi literally cant live in the forest so of course now he has to live with ouma but akamatsu offers to help if it ever gets too much for ouma which obviously ouma denies. she leaves soon and its just them but ouma needs some time to himself to clear his head and he only returns late to see saihara asleep clinging onto akamatsu’s blanket with his life lmao so ouma sighs and brings him more. and if he kisses the sleeping demon’s forehead, nobody has to know

-> ofc its still very much awkward and it takes ouma getting used to having even just another presence in his home, let alone his sort-of-unofficial-demon-bf and saihara’s still sleeping a lot of the time but recovering

-> they probably establish their feelings for eachother properly when they’re more mentally prepared for it, and then 👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨 (they kiss) and are now actually legally boyfriends. i absolutely cannot let this end in angst so they’re happy and love eachother now yay the end

nngl. i talked about this with that same friend and I lowkey want to start writing an actual fic for it now that ive written... literally the entire plot, but if i do that it probably wont be out for a while bc i take 10 years to write lmao-- plus i hardly ever finish what i start so uh yeah.. but hopefully! im not even good at writing fic this is just the plot but yello

#saiouma #oumasai #saiou #ouma kokichi #saihara shuichi #shuuichi saihara #shuichi saihara #kokichi ouma #saihara shuuichi #danganronpa #drv3 #now i realise how dry i text when im listening to someone #BUT MY MIND WAS LIKE FULL OF IDEAS #I WISH I WASNT IN AN ARTBLOCK SO I COULD DRAW EVERYTHING I WANTED #im terrified all this that im writing will just accidentally get deleted and i dont trust drafts for some reason #bruh ive spent my entire day just writing this i wrote those other tags hours ago #ahwait-no-yes rambles #ahwait-no-yes can't draw #a lot of this probably sounds cconfusing but hskldj #all this cause of one dream holy damn #honestlyy i doubt ill write it. but i might try! #why am i nervous to post aa

[damatris]

There's Harshness In Your Voice And Softness In Your Hands

May I offer you a very soft and hopefully funny concussed!Jaskier geraskier fic in these trying times? Also tagging @jaskierswolf since you’re an awesome writer and I super appreciated your kind words and encouragement! <3 This was the third fic I wrote after a 8 year break in writing prose. :’D

Pre-Geraskier, concussed!Jaskier, protective!Geralt, Fluff, And Humor wc:  2,638 Also on AO3 with The Mud Wolf song!

....

"Are we there yet?" Jaskier asked with a grin, knowing perfectly well the town was only ten minute walk away. Exasperated sigh was his only response, just as he predicted.

"I do hope I have enough time to turn your newest valiant fight into an epic tale. Spinning a song out of a mud covered Witcher and his battle with an overgrown worm might be impossible for a lesser bard but I'm sure I can manage." he continued, taking maybe slightly too much joy out of having stayed spotless while Geralt looked like he had rolled on wet ground for a good while. Which wasn't too far from the truth.

For once the hunt had been more of an annoyance than life threatening. Geralt had been hired to take care of an unidentified monster wreaking havoc on the soft soil of nearby fields, threatening the crops.

Turned out the monster was a sizable worm like creature with thick ridged skin and countless teeth similar to sharp picks in a gaping maw. Which could have been deadly if its anatomy didn't require one to stick an arm inside the mouth to be bitten. But it had been strong, squirmy and eager to burrow away forcing Geralt to drag it out of the ground with both hands more than once. It ended up more of a wrestling match than a fight before he had been able to skewer the monster with his sword.

Jaskier had been happy to offer gleeful advice and encouragement from a safe distance where flying muck couldn't reach his silk doublet.

"Really, it would make for a good ditty, something to hum while working the fields" the bard continued, demonstrating a bright tune.

"Don't." Geralt said blankly, dragging the monster's corpse. Mud was starting to flake off his face and armor leaving dusty residue. He would have to give it a throughout cleaning later. Having caked mud in armor joints could only lead to discomfort and possibility of something jamming.

"We'll see." Jaskier said and kept humming until they reached their destination.

Calling it a town might be slightly generous but it was a lively place. During the day there had been a sizable crowd of customers and sellers in the town square, children playing and general bustle of people hurrying on their errands. Even now in the twilight hours there were people walking around giving them looks ranging from disgust to fear to bafflement. Which Jaskier thought was fair enough considering a bloody carcass was being dragged by an extremely filthy Witcher down their streets.

He too would have stopped to stare at such a spectacle once upon a time. Nowadays he just witnessed the hunting of the dangerous creatures instead.

Few minutes later they separated. Geralt was off to present the proof of the completed mission to the magistrate and collect his fee while Jaskier continued to the inn they were staying at. He had a promise to keep to the owner. Not that it was any sort of a hardship. He would have performed anyway but getting free meals for both of them was a very welcome bonus.

The inn's tavern with its warmth and amiable atmosphere was a welcome change from the cooling evening. Conversations and laughter, clinking of drinks being drank and dinners being eaten filled the space with familiar sounds. It had been far too long since the last time they had stayed somewhere nice Jaskier decided. Adjusting his lute he headed toward the bar to talk with the owner.

"Hello again!" Jaskier greeted placing a coin on the counter. "Could you draw a bath in about thirty minutes or so? Not for me, don't worry. I'm ready to sing until everyone here is full of good cheer and good ale!" he ended with a wink.

"That might take quite the while knowing these folks." Oscar, a tall broad man chuckled. Noticing the lack of a looming presence he asked "Bath's for the Witcher then?"

"Absolutely! You should and will see the state he landed himself. So easy to mistake for something that crawled out of a swamp and rolled in dirt for good measure. If you hadn't already seen him, you'd swear his hair is black and skin grey. Thankfully the same fate didn't befall me." Jaskier gestured to his clothes. "Now that would have been a tragedy."

"Plenty of water needed then." Oscar nodded to himself, moving toward a patron looking for a drink. "I'll have it ready for him."

Jaskier gave a small playful bow and twirled around to spot a good place to stash his lute case.

This evening had blessed him with an appreciative audience, Jaskier mused happily. He had begun with true crowd pleasers, jaunty songs that each and everyone knew, to draw the attention and set a jovial mood before moving to his original pieces bridging the change with Toss A Coin. It truly was a great trademark and transition song with addition of people usually complying with the lyrics and handing out money. Sure, there always were some grumblers who would prefer anything over having to hear about the White Wolf in a positive light but you never could please everyone. No matter how much he would like to.

Jaskier had started on the third song detailing a hunt he had witnessed when the Witcher of the tale entered the tavern drawing all eyes and causing murmur.

"Your bard really wasn't exaggerating much." Oscar noted behind the bar with a wry smile. "There's a warm bath waiting for you upstairs. I'd make haste if I were you."

Geralt nodded his acknowledgment while taking a sweeping look at the tavern. Spotting Jaskier near the stairs leading up to the second floor he locked eyes with him for a moment before starting in that direction. While Jaskier's performance hadn't faltered even for a second it was clear he was laughing internally at Geralt's appearance. His blue eyes were sparkling with mirth as he took stock of the stiff hair and dust falling with every step.

Walking past him to the stairs Geralt grunted something that was both a thank you and a warning. Jaskier felt quite proud of how well he had learned the meanings of the various hmms and wordless grunts Geralt seemed so overly fond of.

"Filthy fucking mutant!"

Jaskier was used to being pelted with various objects by dissatisfied audiences so he didn't think anything about stepping between something flying and the Witcher's retreating back.

Until blinding pain hit him.

On a reflex Jaskier threw his arms in front of himself trying to ensure the safety of his lute as he was knocked down on his back. Trying to draw air back into his deflated lungs and focus on anything outside of the ringing in his ears, he vaguely registered a dark shape jumping over him with a curse.

It might have been a year or it might have been a second before a large hand shook his shoulder.

"Damn it Jaskier, breath!"

Ah, yes. He knew that voice. He should probably answer.

"...G'r'lt..." not the most eloquent but passable. It was kind of hard to force words out when you had to think about breathing. Maybe he should go back to practicing basics if saying one word clearly took that much air. How had he ever sang possessing such a horrendous breathing technique?

"Look at me."

But he already was? Oh, wait. That darkness wasn't Geralt's black armor. He just had his eyes closed. But who was he to deny the chance of looking at Geralt's eyes? They were so beautiful after all. With herculean task he blinked and, behold, those molten yellow eyes were intensely staring at his. Such perfection surrounded by dancing stars.

"Can you sit up?"

Should be simple enough but he would need his hands. And they were...

"M' lute...?"

"Of fucking course you would worry about your lute. You're clutching it."

Ah. Good. Everything was fine in that case. Case. Where was his lute case? No, he had put it down before performing. Should be safe. Even if he couldn't recall where it was. Maybe he could ask Geralt. He could just-

"Sniff 'nd find" it with his strange strange Witcher senses. Seemed like a good plan. Geralt would know the scent.

"What the everlasting fuck Jaskier? How hard did that tankard hit your head?"

But tankards weren't for hitting? Why would he have…? Ah. Yes. He must have stepped in front of it now that he thought about it. Still, who would throw one? If you wanted to throw something at a person then-

"Coins ar' good, bre'd okay."

"That's it. I'm taking him to our room."

Jaskier had never realized he could levitate but suddenly he wasn't on the floor anymore. It felt much more safe and warm than he would have thought. And weirdly dusty. Also, Geralt's face was very close. Very, very close. So very close. It was distracting him from the experience. It was unfair how-

"Handsome." Geralt was. Robbing him the chance of experiencing flight. The bastard.

"If you mumble nonsense then you can just shut up."

Rude.

Shit, Jaskier thought. He wasn't levitating anymore. He had missed his chance of enjoying it. Suddenly also the warmth and Geralt's face were gone. No, there was Geralt again. But why wasn't his hair white? It was even in the name. The White Wolf. Not-

"The Mud Wolf."

"Really Jaskier? Not even coherent and you make insults?"

Geralt was an insult. With his pretty eyes and pretty lips and strong arms. Arms…? Maybe Jaskier didn't know how to levitate after all. Maybe Geralt-

"Carried me?" Huh. That would have been even better to register than levitating. If he asked would Geralt do it again while hiding his stupid good looking face? No, probably not.

"Yes."

He would? Wait, no. It was an affirmation for being carried, Jaskier realized with disappointment. He was prevented from brooding by something wet and stinging touching his forehead. He wanted it to-

"Stop. Hurts."

"Stay still. I need to clean this."

Geralt was the one who had wrestled a worm, not him. Heh, that's why he was The Mud Wolf! Didn't explain why his forehead needed cleaning though. Jaskier took a deep breath and tried to focus. Worm, tavern, performing, Geralt coming in. Then it got fuzzy. But hadn't there been a mention of a-

"Tankard. I got hit by a tankard?"

"Finally. Yes Jaskier, you were an absolute idiot and stepped in its path." a relieved sigh passed Geralt's lips.

"You were already in its path." Jaskier accused him wincing against a new stab of pain. Geralt should be thankful. Who knew that an overglorified cup could hurt this much?

"I was the target. It would have hit my back. While wearing an armor. If I hadn't caught it first."

"..." Jaskier blamed his lack of a comeback on concussion. Having one would explain everything. "Please don't say a child threw it and managed to knock me out."

There was an amused huff. "No, it was an adult. One that has a far worse headache."

"They managed this while concus-? You gave them one!" Jaskier crowed pleased with his returning mental skills. "Ooh, I wish I could have seen it. I hope they lost a lot of teeth! And have a broken nose."

"Probably, didn't check. I had more important things to do." Geralt answered prodding Jaskier's head. It didn't look too bad now that the blood was gone. An ugly bruise was quickly forming on a sizeable bump but the cut wasn't long or deep. Shouldn't even leave a scar. Head wounds just bled like a bitch as Geralt knew from personal experience.

"I'm important?" Jaskier breathed with wide eyes and hanging mouth.

Of course. That would be his take away, Geralt thought. Not that he was wrong but…

"Hmmm."

"Dear Melitele, am I hallucinating?" Jaskier whispered lifting his arm to cup Geralt's cheek. And would have promptly poked him in the eye if Geralt hadn't snatched his hand.

"Geralt of Rivia admitting to care about someone? This must be a first!" a familiar sparkle was returning to Jaskier's pinched eyes. He moved their interlocked hands to take a better look. It wasn't particularly romantic with Geralt holding his wrist but Jaskier would take it.

Just as the thought crossed his mind Geralt let go and his arm flopped bonelessly back on the bed. He didn't remember his hands weighting that much. Weird. Combined with his lute he must have far more strength than he had guessed to be able to play for whole nights with no problem.

"Geralt, where's my lute?" Jaskier suddenly panicked trying to get up to look for it. He was screwed if someone had stolen or, god forbid, broken it. All he got for his attempt was splitting pain.

"Your priorities are fucked up." Geralt stated picking a potion and bandage out of his bag. "It's in the corner. Oscar brought it with the case."

"Excuse me! It's my tool of trade, my life line and…" Jaskier trailed off frowning.

"I'll finish that after I've slept." he sniffed radiating offense.

"You do that. Now, stay still." Geralt drawled. Swiping the cut one last time he covered it with gauze.

It might not be strictly necessary but he was quite sure Jaskier would tear it open at least few times with his animated expressions. And, it made him feel slightly better if he was honest. Realizing the bard had purposefully stepped in front of him and crumpled down like a sack of potatoes had been shocking. Just thinking about it made him want to tear the culprit apart piece by piece.

What in the world had driven Jaskier to do it was a mystery. He should be perfectly aware a flying mug was no danger for a Witcher.

"Drink." Geralt ordered shoving the potion toward Jaskier.

Jaskier did make a valiant effort to take the potion but kept missing the mark until Geralt placed it in his hand with an exasperated sigh. Shakily he drank the concoction without hesitation until the bottle was empty, Geralt helping him lift his head enough not to choke.

"Wait. What was that? You always go on and on how your strange Witcher potions are not for us weak fragile humans. You wouldn't poison me after all this time, right? Geralt?" Jaskier suddenly worried.

"If I wanted you dead I'd have killed you long ago. And not with poison." Geralt answered blankly.

"It's just painkiller. You can sleep now. I'll keep waking you up to make sure last of your brain cells didn't rattle loose." he continued lifting the blanket for Jaskier to wrap it around himself.

"That's offensive. I'll let you know I have plenty of commonsense…" Jaskier protested weakly eyelids fluttering.

"Sure. As much as a toddler." Geralt granted. Softer, he prompted Jaskier to close his eyes. "Sleep. You'll feel better after."

"... Uh-huh…" came the eloquent answer. Just before he succumbed to his exhaustion, Jaskier could have sworn he felt gentle hand carding through his hair.

Also on AO3 with The Mud Wolf song!

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher fanfic #the witcher fic #geraskier #witcher #Adventures with writing #long post

[symphonyofthewrite]

What a King Considers Beautiful 

Art by niuan_ on instagram!! I'll include a link to that in a reblog!

Fandom: Castlevania (Netflix) | Castlevania Symphony of the Night

Summary: Of vain queens and fire green | A fluffy little ficlet about Vlad and Lisa homeschooling Adrian.

My second fic for the prompt on tumblr “Please give us Lisa and Vlad just being loving science parents (bonus points if they’re protective).” Last time I focused more on the loving parents + protectiveness part, this time I’m focusing more on the science part!

Notes: I wrote this a while ago, for the same prompt I used for "Seven Years Bad Luck...or Maybe Just a Moment."

I've been trying to teach myself to be less perfectionistic, so I apologize if the language, or the experiment they’re doing at the end, is/are inaccurate to the time period. I decided not to scour the internet to double check XD And I don’t actually know if Cassiopeia is one of the constellations on their ceiling.

Also, yes, I am aware there’s more to the Cassiopeia myth than I said. I might be able to get to that later…

I got an angsty idea for an extra scene, but a) at the time I promised myself to write something truly fluffy with this, and b) it wasn’t ready by the time the rest of the fic was, so i didnt include it. I might add it to this later, or add it as a second chapter, or another fic in this series, but I made sure to keep this one truly fluffy because that’s what we all needed during this time (and after S3…).

At this point I’ve had this fic up for a while, and I seriously do love that idea... so maybe I’ll add it as a reblog or something? What do you guys think? Do you want to read my angsty last scene?

I hope you enjoy! Please don’t hesitate to leave a comment and/or reblog to let me know!! They really do cheer me up a lot!!

*

“What about that one?” Adrian points to a collection of stars.

“That’s Cassiopeia.” Lisa answers.

The two of them are laying, not, in fact, on a moonlit patch of grass, but on the floor of the boy’s room, looking up at the ceiling. Unlike most ceilings, which are plain and boring, this one is littered with stars. They’re no glow-in-the-dark stick-ons either. Vlad and Lisa once painted these stars, and they were meticulous; making as sure each constellation was in its proper place.

“It was said she was a vain queen, who once boasted her daughter was more beautiful than all the nymphs. To punish her Poseidon tied to a chair in the sky, making her hang upside down for half the year.”

Adrian makes a face. “That sounds …ridiculous.”

“Which part?”

Adrian thinks for a moment. “All of it. Why would she boast like that? Didn’t people in Ancient Greece know how jealous the gods could get?”

“Maybe not. Or maybe she knew, and boasted anyway. Maybe she was trying to spite him.”

“Probably not the best idea.”

“No, I wouldn’t say so either.”

“And why would Poseidon punish her so harshly, just for saying that? Didn’t he know she was just being vain, and the nymphs really were more beautiful? Couldn’t he have let her off with a warning?”

“Who knows, maybe they weren’t as beautiful as everyone thought, and she touched a nerve. Or maybe he was just insecure. And, well, the gods aren’t known for their merciful punishments.”

“But they’re the gods. Isn’t it their job to be infallible?”

“As you so expertly pointed out, the Greek gods weren’t infallible at all, in fact they were jealous, petty, and vain themselves… amongst other things. In other words, they were very human.”

Adrian ponders it.

“And, I don’t know,” Lisa considers, “I can kinda see where Cassiopeia was coming from.”

“What do you mean?”

She turns over to look at her son more closely, brushing a strand of gold behind his ear.

“It wouldn’t take much for me to say my son is more beautiful than all the nymphs.”

“Ugh, mother, stop!” he turns away, and she laughs.

“I can understand both sides, myself.” Vlad’s footsteps sound around them.

They sit up, startled.

Vlad continues as he walks into the room, (avoiding the patches of waning sunlight on the floor). “On one hand, your mother has a point. On the other, one ought not disrespect that which a king considers beautiful. She was asking for trouble at that point.” He steps over to the desk in the corner, picking up the papers on it and thumbing through them, continuing, “When you have all that power, it’s easy to forget that your punishments are cruel.”

“So,” he changes the subject abruptly, “You hypothesize that the copper sulfate is going to burn the same as the salt?”

Adrian nods excitedly. Pyrotechnics are a favorite past-time of nine-year-old boys (well, in this case, not actually nine. But it’s a past-time of boys, and sometimes girls, of any age, nonetheless.)

Vlad raises an eyebrow, smirking slightly. “Let’s go and see, shall we?”

Adrian looks at his mother, who smiles and nods. Vlad hands him his notes, and the boy takes them, bustling down the staircases—his parents following more slowly, chuckling to themselves at their son’s eagerness. They soon reach the large room downstairs where they do most of their experiments; shimmering with golden light, full of bubbling beakers and bottled lightning.

Lisa hands him gloves, warning him to stay safe—which he can’t get on fast enough. Vlad gives his son each of the supplies as he needs them. Adrian consults his notes, setting up the experiment; rolling the salt on the end of one skewer, the copper sulfate on the other (more carefully).

“Shall we go outside and test these?” Vlad puts his hand on his shoulder.

They make their way through the hall, Adrian scampering out the door; the sun went down while they set up.

Vlad sets down the bucket of water he brought, and asked if Adrian was ready. When he nods, Dracula holds up his hand, a small flame appearing in the air by his fingers.

Adrian holds up the two skewers. His father steps forward and lights the salted ends of each, (reminding him not to breathe in the fumes from the copper sulfate).

They light, a little orange flame sitting at the top of each. Adrian examines the flames, then holds them each up to the one Vlad is still holding to get a closer look.

“I was right!”

Dracula holds up a finger on the other hand to call for patience.

Adrian watches as the orange on the copper sulfate flame becomes dotted with...green? Was he mistaken? It becomes clear he isn’t, as the green streaks multiply, as if rushing by, until the entire flame has turned a light green color. He smiles in awe. Then holds it back up to the other flame, making sure of what he’s seeing.

He holds onto the them as long as he can, but when the flames reach the actual skewer Adrian reluctantly drops them in the bucket of water, where they sizzle and die (and Vlad drops his arm, extinguishing the magic flame too).

“That was magnificent!” Adrian grins.

“Now don’t forget to write the results down in your journal.”

“Ugh, alright…” he mutters as he picks up the bucket to take the supplies back inside the castle. Clearly he’d rather continue to play with fire with his parents, than finish his homework for his teacher.

Vlad puts his arm around his wife, and they watch him go. Lisa rests her head on his chest.

“He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” Lisa murmurs softly.

“Careful, or you might to bring the gods’ wrath upon us.”

She pushes him playfully.

“He’s growing up too fast.” She continues as she intertwines her arm back around his. “I just want to smush him in a bottle and keep him young forever.”

“Well, some famous humans would say that’s what makes things like him so beautiful; they don’t last forever. A flower that blooms eternally would lose its luster.”

“I think I’d always see him as beautiful, no matter how much time I watched him.”

Vlad chuckles, brushing his hand through her hair. “No, I don’t think I would ever stop either.”

They pause for a moment, and Vlad holds her tighter.

“But,” he adds, “I still want to see what an amazing person he’ll grow up to be.”

#castlevania #alucard #castlevania dracula #castlevania alucard #castlevania lisa #castlevania adrian #castlevania fanfiction #castlevania fanfic #castlevania fic #castlevania netflix #castlevania sotn #dracula #lisa #adrian tepes #lisa tepes #dracula tepes #Vlad Dracula Tepes #vlad tepes #tepes family #draculisa #adrian fahrenheit tepes #netflix castlevania #dracula castlevania #alucard castlevania #lisa castlevania #vlad x lisa #lisa x vlad #dracula x lisa #lisa x dracula

[yikesharringrove]

I both really want to read a conversion camp fic and really fucking DONT lol but I trust you to do it well and not absolutely destroy us so... I am asking for you to write the conversion camp fic please.

Oh, my plan is to absolutely destroy you all with this one.

This is modern bc it wasn’t gonna be but then I wrote a part and it kinda had to be lol

TW: religion, homophobia, transphobia (nd Steve), conversion camp, anxiety, depression, physical abuse, the word r*pe is thrown around, suicidal ideations, basically, it’s a DOOZY

Seriously, this shit gets DARK. I have A LOT of untapped emotions.

But it has a happy ending, don’t worry

-

Steve’s hands were shaking as they dug through his bag.

They had already pulled out the eyeshadow palette he had tried to sneak in, needed something to make himself feel okay in this inevitable Hell.

“Did you receive our guidelines?” They had found the lipstick he had shoved in one of his shoes. “We specifically outlined prohibited items.” He took a shaky breath. “Your perversion is much deeper than anticipated, Mr. Harrington.” He just nodded.

He was shuffled about, led to a cold blank room.

His first meeting with a conversion specialist.

“What is your infatuation with women’s things?” The man’s voice made Steve feel like there was cold water dripping down his back.

“I just like pretty things.”

“Why do you deny your manhood?”

“I don’t.”

“You say that, but you do. Every time you pretend you’re a woman-”

“I don’t pretend I’m a woman. I just like makeup and stuff.” He gave Steve a disgusted look.

“By denying your true self, you have turned your back on God. You have allowed the devil to infiltrate your soul, to convince you that these perversions are okay.” He looked down at the paper in his lap, the forms Steve had been forced to sit and fill out with his parents. “You were not close with your father, were you?”

“Um, no. Not really.”

“So you pushed away your male role model?”

“He pushed me away, more like.” The man pursed his lips.

“A father does not push away his son unless there is something evil within him. A father can always tell when there is something wrong, something disgusting in his offspring.” He stood up, towering over Steve.

“You are disgusting, Steven Harrington. You are perverse and foul. You turn your back on your Creator. But you are not without a savior. You can be saved. Denounce the devil that tempts you to this life. Follow your savior, and He will lead you to safety.” He held out his hand. Steve took a breath, and shook it.

-

Steve’s first day was a fucking nightmare.

He was led to his room, a small room with two bunked beds and no doors. He was told he’d have three roommates, and if they were caught touching one another, the punishment would be painful.

And then it was group therapy.

He sat in a circle with ten of the other boys from the program. They were forced to discuss every attraction they had ever felt to anyone besides women. They were forced to discuss sexual encounters they had had with men, and call themselves disgusting.

And as it was Steve’s turn, and he talked about wearing panties, and fingering himself, and sucking Tommy’s dick, and he felt disgusting.

At dinner he met one of his roommates, and his heart sank.

“Where’d they scrape you up?” The guy was fucking gorgeous.

“Indiana.”

“And you just a homo? Or...?” The guy’s voice trailed off as he looked Steve up and down. “You one a’ them crossdressers, too?” Steve flushed deeply.

“How, how did you know?”

“Because you look like they got to you already. Means they got something on you. Make you feel real bad about yourself.”

“How, how long have you been here?”

“Long enough. Seen plenty a’ boys come and go. Some cured, some just a lost cause.” He was so nonchalant about the whole thing.

“Why, why so long?” He grinned at Steve, sharp and beautiful.

“Because I’m immune, Pretty Boy.” Steve’s breath hitched. The guy licked over his teeth. “Can’t beat the gay outta me if they tried. And they fuckin’ have.”

“But why, why don’t you want to change? I mean, they’re, they’re right.” His blue eyes went cold.

“They got you deep. Damn, you might be the quickest turn around I’ve ever seen.”

“I just, I don’t want to be wrong anymore.” He leaned closer to Steve.

“You have never been wrong.” Steve felt like he was gonna cry.

A firm hand clapped down on Steve’s shoulder.

“William, I hope you’re treating our new guest nicely.” William’s face fell immediately.

“Yes, Father.” Steve looked up to see a priest holding onto him. His hair was greying and neat. His eyes were cold and dead.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to take Steven with me.” Steve followed him, eyes downcast, all the way to his office. “Steven, my name is Father Andrew. I’m here to help you.” Steve didn’t like his smile. “We’re going to meet everyday at 8:30 pm for your therapy.”

He pulled out a folder from the bottom drawer of his desk. He placed a photograph in front of Steve with a flourish.

It was porn.

It was fucking gay porn.

He stood in front of Steve, leaning against the desk, off to the side of the image.

“Tell me what you see here.” One of the men had dark hair. He was being taken from behind by the other man, his blond hair and bright eyes stirred something in Steve.

“Two men. Having sex.”

He didn’t see Father Andrew’s hand, just heard the crack of it against his cheek.

His eyes watered, his cheek burned.

“What do you see?”

“Two perverts.”

“What are they doing?”

“Defiling one another.”

“Good, Steven. You’re learning.”

He placed another photograph down. This time, the man being fucked had a full face of makeup, tears making the dark eyeliner run as he was on his back, hands cuffed to the bed. The man fucking him was smirking at the camera, tongue between his teeth.

“How does this make you feel?”

“Disgusted.”

“Why?”

“That they, they would touch each other like that.”

“Do you have fantasies like this? Of being tied up by another man? Raped by another man?”

And the answer, the answer was technically yes. He had plenty of fantasies of being tied up, taken rough, taken dirty.

But rape. That’s a strong fucking word.

“No, Father.” Another crack. Another slap.

“Lying is a sin, Steven.”

“I, I don’t want to be, to be raped.” Another slap.

“Lying is a sin, Steven.”

“Yes, yes Father. I have had fantasies.”

“These are not fantasies, these are perversions planted in your mind by demons, by the devil trying to pull you away from Christ our Lord. Do not let these demons lead you astray.”

He pulled out another picture.

Steve’s heart fucking stopped.

It was a picture of himself. A nude he had taken for Tommy.

He was wearing pretty lingerie, pouting to the camera. He remembers taking it, remembers putting on his makeup, posing over and over until he took one he liked. They must’ve gone through his phone, through his texts.

“Why do you dress like a woman?”

“Be-because I’m disgusting.” And the thing is, Steve had been told plenty of times that day that he’s disgusting, and he had begun to believe it.

“Good, Steven. You are disgusting. Do you believe you’re a woman?”

“No, Father.”

“Then why have you been experimenting with women’s things?”

“I believed I wasn’t a man.”

“And are you a man?”

“Yes, Father.”

“God made you a man.”

“Yes, Father.” Steve still didn’t like his smile.

He switched the image.

And it was another one of his nudes. This time he was in a skirt, kneeling with his back to the mirror, one hand spreading his cheeks, showing off the silver plug in his ass.

He even remembers the text he had sent with it.

Tommy had been studying for a test, so Steve sent that picture and said but im lonely :( and Tommy had replied I’ll be there in twenty.

“Why do you have an obsession with your anus?” Steve could feel the blood drain from his face.

“I, uh, it feels good.” Another slap.

“How does spitting in the face of your Heavenly Father feel good, Steven? Sodomy does not feel good.” Another slap. Steve’s face felt like it was on fire.

“I’m sorry, Father. I am vile, and disgusting.” Steve was sobbing, felt so fucking pathetic, trying to look anywhere but the printed image of himself.

“I think that’s enough for tonight. I expect you here tomorrow after dinner.”

Steve fucking ran back to his room.

The other boys were asleep. He climbed into the top bunk, curling into himself.

He felt disgusting, he felt foul and wrong and bad.

He tried to stifle his sobs into his pillow, the scratchy case muffling his panic attack.

“Hey, Stevie.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quiet.” There was a sigh, breath fanning over his face.

And then the boy from earlier was swinging himself into bed with him, curling against him.

“They said-”

“I know exactly what times they patrol. I’ll leave your bed before then.” He sighed. “First night’s always the hardest. You just gotta get through. Tell them what they wanna hear, but remember that they’re fucking wrong. You are valid, and real. Being gay is not disgusting.”

Steve curled into him, letting himself be comforted.

“Thank you. Thank you, William.”

“Oh, Christ. Call me Billy.”

“Thank you, Billy.”

-

As time passed, it was easy to retreat into himself.

He met with Father Andrew every night, got slapped and hit when his answers weren’t condemning enough.

But each night, Billy would crawl into bed with him, would hold him when he broke down.

The kiss was inevitable.

It happened after Steve had an extreme day, the beating he received when he had admitted to being nonbinary, that he had asked his friends at home to use other pronouns.

And Billy had said you’re perfect the way you are, Sweet Thing.

And Steve kissed him.

And Steve wanted to die.

-

“Forgive me, Father. For I have sinned.” Steve took a shaking breath.

He was kneeling in the small confessional.

They had Mass every three days, and confession each Friday.

“It has been one week since my last confession.” He took a deep breath. He needed to get this of his chest, needed to get the punishment he deserved. “Father, I, the feelings have not gone away. There is, there’s a boy, and I, I love him. And I try not to. I try not to look at him, to remember the devil is leading me astray. But Father, I think about him. I think about him often.”

“This is an extremely grievous sin, my son.”

“I know, Father. Please help me. I want to, I want to be pure. To be free of this sin, this temptation.”

“I offer, as penance for your sins, to pray a rosary for each time you have had an evil thought about your fellow man this week. As you ponder the Mysteries of the rosary, consider how God created you, how Jesus died for you, and you wipe your feet on their love.”

“Yes, Father.”

“And our meeting will be arduous tonight, Steven.”

“Yes, Father.”

“Now please, recite the Act of Contrition.”

Steve’s hands shook as he recited the prayer, finishing his confession with Father Andrew.

-

“Now, Steven. You discussed having impure thoughts today.”

Steve’s knees ached from praying the rosary so many times earlier today. He hadn’t eaten, had gone straight to the Chapel after his confession.

He wanted to pray, to cleanse himself.

And he didn’t want to risk seeing Billy.

“Yes, Father.”

“And you mentioned that you love another boy.”

“The devil is trying to make me think it’s love.” Father Andrew smiled his empty smile down at Steve.

“That’s right Steven. Because love cannot exist between two men. Love is a beautiful thing created and given to us by The Lord God.” Father Andrew leaned over Steve, made him shrink back in his seat. “Which is why you are unlovable as you are. You are foul and vile. You may be loved if you change.”

He grabbed Steve’s hair, holding his head still as he slapped his face.

And Steve let him.

He was foul, he was vile.

He deserved the pain.

-

Two months.

That’s how long it took Steve to “graduate”.

He left the facility in clean khakis, a nice sweater his mother had sent him to wear home.

Billy had left a week and a half prior.

He was deemed a lost cause.

Steve’s mother was there to pick him up, hugged him tight and told him how happy she was that he was fixed.

He was quiet as they drove, watching the shadows the summer sun cast on the side of the plain flat road.

“Your father will be pleased. You’ve made such wonderful progress. Free of all those delusions.”

They passed Tommy’s house.

He felt sick.

-

The first thing Steve did when he got home was destroy all his make up.

He took everything feminine from it’s hiding spot in the back of his closet.

He scraped out the eye shadow, smeared the lipstick all over his dresses.

He cut up his lingerie, shoved everything into a black garbage back, driving into town to toss it in the dumpster behind the gas station.

He wanted it away, he wanted it gone. He wanted to be pure.

-

His hands shook as he zipped up the suitcase.

He didn’t have much in there, was planning on taking enough to get him through a little while, then maybe buying some things, some pretty things.

His parents were asleep downstairs, he was planning on being long gone by the time they woke up.

He put on his backpack, taking his wallet and tiptoeing down the stairs, his shoes in his hand.

He had a plan, would drive to the bus station, leave his car there.

Someone will find it, and at that point, he’ll be long gone.

He bought a bus ticket to Chicago, paid in cash and gave a fake name.

He was fucking out of here.

They were fucking out of here.

-

“As I live, and fucking breathe.”

Steve startled as a hand came down on their shoulder.

They startled again when they turned around, came face to face with a ghost from the past.

“B-Billy?” Billy’s hair was longer than it had been at the camp. His smile was lazier, his eyes brighter. Steve’s gut gave an excited little flutter as he looked them up and down.

“You look fuckin’ gorgeous, Pretty Boy.” Steve flushed, adjusting their dress. It was new.

It had been three years since the camp. One year of Steve living in pain, until they packed their shit, and moved to the Golden Coast. They left in the middle of the fucking night, ran away like a scared child, never looking back.

And here was the love of their goddamn life, in some hole in the wall coffee shop in San Fransisco.

“It’s uh, it’s not Pretty Boy, anymore.” Billy’s grin got even wider.

“Thank fuck.” He swung himself into the seat across from Steve’s, upsetting some of the papers they were working on.

“What happened to you, Billy?” Billy’s smiled slipped, just a little.

“My dad was tired a’ paying for that joint if I wasn’t getting better. So he said if I wasn’t fixed in like, a month, he would stop paying, and I would be kicked out. Stayed true to his word. Haven’t seen the bastard since.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Getting kicked outta that place is the best fuckin’ thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I graduated. Went through the whole thing. Took me a year to realize how fucked up it was.”

“Jesus. They got you deep.” Steve shrugged.

“I’m okay now.”

“Yeah? What’re you doin’?”

“Goin’ to school. Gonna be a counselor. Hopefully work in an elementary school, or something.” Billy’s eyes were bright.

“That’s amazing. Gonna tell all the little queer kids that they’re valid and all that?”

“That’s the goal.” Billy grinned. “What are you doing now? You with anyone?”

“I own a bar, actually. Kind of a dive, but it’s a good time.” He looked at Steve through his lashes. “You should come by, sometime. Be good to see you.”

“I’d like to see you too.”

“And to answer your question, I’m not with anyone. Not right now.” He smirked. “But I could be.” He leaned over the table, drawing one finger down Steve’s hand. “I like seeing you happy. Feel like I only ever saw you cryin’ in that joint.”

“Well, spent a lot of time crying there.”

“For good reason.” Billy took their hand. “It’s really good to see you.”

“Y’know I told Father Andrew I was in love with you. Got beat black and fuckin’ blue for it.” Billy’s face was grave.

“Why’d you do that?”

“Wanted to be fixed. Took me a year to realize I didn’t need that.”

“You stop lovin’ me in that year?”

“Not even in the two after that.” Billy took a shaking breath.

“You know, I uh, I love you too. Always did. It broke my fucking heart to leave you in that place. Was gonna wake you up that night, get you to run away with me. But they took me out, uh, forcibly.”

“Bet you put up a real good fight.”

“Broke Father Ryan’s nose.” Steve let out a burst of laughter, clapping one hand over their mouth.

“I was wondering about that. He had a splint for like, a month.”

“Yeah, well, bastard kept tryin’ to exorcise me. Headbutted him right in the face.”

“Good for you, Bill. Sometimes I wish I could light the whole place on fire.”

“Me too.” Billy took their hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I gotta head, but I wanna see you. Soon. Later today, if you can.”

“Yeah, uh, I’m just doing some homework, but I could stop by the bar tonight? I don’t have shit to do tomorrow.”

“Lemme pick you up. We can go to dinner before I take you to the bar.” They smiled softly at him.

“I’d like that.”

#oof #this was a lot to write #i got halfway through and realized how much damn Truama the Church has given me #big yikes #I've been really fucking scarred by TWO religions #how fun #yikes writes #tw homophobia #tw religion #tw conversion #tw gay conversion #steve harrington #billy hargrove #steve harrington x billy hargrove #billy hargrove x steve harrington #harringrove #harringrove fic #harringrove ficlet #harringrove drabble

[beautifulterriblequeen]

:O I just read your whumptober fic! It was good but,,, why would you hurt us like this?

I shouldn't answer this in the mindset I'm in (walked into a trigger while trying to do something nice for someone, been a bad brain day ever since) but I'm a fucking moron so I'm gonna.

cw for illness, trauma, injury, surgery, stress, anxiety, family stress, autistic burnout, pandemic, chemotherapy, near-death

Firstly, unless specified, my fics aren't for anyone but me. I'm glad other people enjoy them, or hate the horrible angst, though. Collective feels are a powerful force, and I enjoy feeling like I'm a part of something.

Secondly, that fic in particular is very specifically for me. I have had three Shittiest Year Evers in a row now and I was losing it.

First year, my career imploded and I didn't know why because I didn't know that I had autistic burnout from too many years of trying to be allistically perfect in public and watching everyone sail past me like I was anchored. Most of those years, I hadn't known I was autistic, either.

Second year, Pandemic Boogaloo, in which the stress of allasudden being responsible for teaching my two differently ND kids during spring quarter with no aids physically broke me and I ended up in the hospital, and it took most of the year to get over it. Meanwhile my husband's insurance company fucked him over in January and he had no meds for several weeks, so his health began an irreversible decline that led to severe weight loss, several urgent tests, and lifesaving surgery two days before Christmas. I got to sit and watch him dying faster all year long. My last StL update that year - the big chapter - was written and posted under the growing shadow of the very real fear that my husband might not live to see 2021 at all.

Third year, this year, they found cancer in the bits they'd taken out of him. He started chemo, and it hit him hard, and he was stubborn about it, and I started having really bad anxiety. Had to fire my therapist, which sucked. Then husband's back burst a disc, probably weakened from the chemo. He still hadn't recovered from his Christmas surgery but we were off to another surgeon. And I was there, every day, to watch him be depressed, and angry, and weak. I utterly failed at keeping my kids on task in schoolwork. They were both remote and entirely disconnected, and I could not stretch myself enough to help all three of them. So I picked my husband. My son passed his classes. My enby didn't. And then I got really sick again. In and out of doctor offices, ER, surgeon consults, got scans. It's been six months and they can't figure out what it is, which means it's probably just me trying to worry everyone into being okay. Upside: my brain really is that powerful. Downside: I just can't use the damn thing for anything useful under this amount of stress.

There have been good things. Kids are happier this year, husband is getting good test results back. But I haven't had a good break this year. Or last year, or the year before that. I haven't processed this yet. Any of it. It just... hovers there, haunting me, screaming at me like a drill sergeant.

I tried to write fluffy Ruthari to get me through the hard times. As my husband got sicker and sicker, I wrote and wrote, trying to process, to balance. But it got to be too angsty irl, and I just lost my will to write fluff. It's not a magic charm. So in the spirit of the dark and the spooky, I decided to make a list of really horrible things I've had to endure. And then I gave them to Runaan in the dungeon. Because he can take it, when I can't. That's what drew me to his character in the first place. Not his voice or his long hair or his archery or his brooding. I saw his trauma, and I said: I want that one. He will understand.

So that Whumptober? That's me, hitting Runaan with all the things that hit me first... and him not breaking under the strain. I need to see that it's possible to survive this hell, but so far, no one's really made it out the far end of it, so I had to go fictional and still keep it relevant. I blew off enough darkness to be able to write other things recently, and also to feel really awkward for planning something in October that I finished less than half of. They say never to take fics down, but I've been considering it because it's just so chunky and chaotic and I wrote it ugly and fast and it was like, half vent and half fic... Anyway it's wobbly. Concept good, execution unclear, hellcoin deployed.

Actually its a perfect representation of my mental state. Full of pain and torment and spiders and threats and liars and bad food options and lost memories of an earlier time when things were good and soft and you didn't know just how good and soft they'd be in comparison to the fresh cold hell you're living in. I really am cold. I've been cold for six months due to necessary clothing choices, see... and also it's my turn to be losing the weight. Maybe I'll hibernate this winter in a blanket nest.

If you're not ready for the unholy state of my soul as I write this, don't read my Whumptober. It's a curse, half written, and its purpose is to lift several other curses. It's psychological sausage, and you know what they say about watching sausage get made.

Don't.

#asks #personal #tw illness #tw injury #tw autistic burnout #tw chemo #tw surgery #tw anxiety #tw pandemic #tw trauma #tw ptsd #runaan #whumptober #maybe i should update it with the dead dove tag?

[we-are-inevitable]

when you’re gone // jack & crutchie

hi !!! so, i’ve made the executive decision to delete one of my collections of fics, but i’m posting each one as their own thing instead of all being in the same ao3 post. therefoooore, have this !! i’ll be posting all four at varying times today!

When You’re Gone

some good things about this fic: -WHATTTTTT??? JAC WROTE SOMETHING IN CANON ERA??? SAY SIKE -crutchie crutchie crutchie -Big Brother Jack Kelly -bonding !! light angst/comfort !!! -Accents (TM)

i hope you guys like this !! (side note: please do not tag this as a romantic ship when reblogging.)

He's different. A bad kind of different, and it's written all over his face.

The strike was won. Jack took that job as a cartoonist down at The World, though he's still staying in the lodging house- just until he has some money saved up, just until he's stable. Everyone else carries on like normal, and for the most part, it is. Jack is still gone at the same time as the rest of the boys, and usually comes back just a little bit earlier than most, but nothing has really changed. Jack is still there.

Yet Jack knows something is wrong with Crutchie.

The kid barely talks to him anymore. Jack isn’t sure why, but he had thought back through their conversations, overanalyzing his comments and picking apart everything he could remember from what Crutchie has said, but there's still nothing that stands out.

But still, something is wrong. If it isn’t painfully apparent by the way Crutchie only says a few words to him a day, it's obvious because Crutchie has moved. He no longer spends his nights out on the rooftop with Jack; no, instead, he shacks up with Race and Albert, which… has to be a lot worse than facing the elements outside. The thought causes Jack to shudder.

It's rough, really. Jack can feel that he's losing Crutchie, who was the one person that Jack knows he couldn’t live without. Katherine is his friend, ex-girlfriend, and self-appointed stylist, David is his lover- he still gets butterflies in his stomach whenever he thinks about that- and Race and Albert are his built-in annoyances, but Crutchie… Crutchie is his brother. Has been for years.

Jack can’t lose his brother.

***

Saturday is a warm welcome. Not necessarily warm- no, no, the temperatures are nearing freezing, but at least Jack doesn’t have to go into work. Pulitzer had graciously given Jack the day off, probably because Jack had turned in five drawings to his supervisor instead of one, and, quite frankly, he was sure that Pulitzer was tired of him for the week, so Jack didn’t protest when he came to him and told him to take the day for himself.

He figures that he'll just spend the day with David. David is back in school now, so his Saturday is free, and the university isn’t that far of a walk from the lodging house, so Jack won’t be freezing his ass off for too long.

Part of him is considering selling again, too, for old time’s sake, but now that he has an actual job, standing on a corner in freezing conditions and hoping that someone is stupid enough to brave the elements for a newspaper just… doesn’t sound appealing. He feels bad for the boys, though. Most of his crew are getting older, so they won’t have to do it for much longer, but it seems that they're getting more and more littles each week and it hurts him to see the young ones have to go out in this weather.

Jack sighs to himself as he climbs out of bed. As the weather took a turn for the worst, Jack had made the executive decision to stay in a spare room in the lodging house rather than risk freezing to death on the rooftop. Besides, this is the room where he stores his nice work clothes anyway- the clothes that he was still going to try to pay Katherine back for, as soon as he has the funds. He decides against wearing any of his work clothes, though, settling instead for an old undershirt from his selling days and some paint-stained trousers. He checks his watch and huffs, knowing that the boys are likely already gone.

Jack makes his rounds anyway. He walks through the lodging house, noticing that a few of the littles decided to stay in, under the careful watch of Smalls. No one else seems to be in the building, though. No one but…

Shit.

Jack takes in a deep breath as he walks toward the door, shaking his head when he hears one of the beds inside shifting. He doesn’t want to disturb him, but then Jack hears something- a sound of pain, a whine, a whimper, whatever it is- and he decides to open the door. Slowly, Jack peeks his head in, a look of concern on his face. “Crutch? Are ya… You okay?”

Crutchie doesn’t answer. Instead, he looks up at Jack with tears in his eyes, and Jack knows that look. He hurries over to sit on the edge of the bed, pulling the blankets back, and Jack winces as soon as he sees the contracting muscles on Crutchie’s bad leg. “Shit… Is it bad?”

“Couldn’t even walk this mornin’,” Crutchie answers with a groan, rubbing his forehead. “Jackie, can ya--?”

“Yeah, I got ya,” Jack murmurs. He rubs his hands together for a moment, then gently moves up against the wall, maneuvering Crutchie’s leg into his lap. This reminds him so much of years ago, doing the same thing as a twelve year old, trying to do whatever he can to help his friend with the debilitating pain. It had always been so scary back then, because Jack didn't know what to do and Crutchie was often too in pain to instruct him, but Jack did his best under the circumstances. After all Crutchie had done for Jack, it’s the least he could do.

They sit in silence as Jack massages his leg, continuing on for about ten minutes, until Crutchie’s face relaxes and he’s able to take a deep breath. He gulps, opens his eyes and looks up at the ceiling. “Thanks, Jack. You- You can go now.”

“Go? Nah, Crutch, I ain’t leavin’ today,” Jack says simply, looking down at the younger boy. He's only sixteen, and won't turn seventeen for at least five months... Jack can't stand the thought of making Crutchie- a kid- stay alone in this condition. “I’s off today. Don’t got no work. I was, uh, gonna spend the day with--”

“With Davey?” Crutchie says with a smirk, nudging Jack’s shoulder with his fist, and Jack just shakes his head. “Go, go, have fun with your man. I’s fine right where I is.”

“No. I said I ain’t leavin’ today, Crutchie, and I mean it. ‘Specially since your leg’s all outta sorts today,” Jack gives him a pointed look. “Smalls’ takin’ care of the littles, so if I do need to go do somethin’ I have her keepin’ an eye on ya, but my schedule is free. ‘Sides, I think… I think we need to talk.”

Crutchie swallows. “Talk?”

“Well, yeah. We ain’t been able to talk for a while,” Jack shrugs, then sighs. “You’s been avoidin’ me, Crutchie, and don’t act like ya don’t know it. I just… Did I do somethin’ to piss ya off? Is it somethin’ I said?”

“I ain’t been avoidin’ you, Jackie!” Crutchie lets out an incredulous laugh, then looks away. “What makes ya think that? I ain’t--”

“Charlie.”

That makes him stop. Jack is the only one allowed to call him by his real name, and even then, he only ever does so when it’s important. Crutchie takes in a deep breath and sits up, wincing as he moves himself to sit next to Jack with his back against the wall, legs out in front of him. “‘S just… hard, y’know? You’s gonna be gone soon. For real. You already stopped sellin’ and- and don’t get me wrong, I’m real happy for ya ‘nd all, but… I dunno, I just… don’t want ya to leave yet. Figured it would be easier if I stopped talkin’ to ya now, ‘stead of waitin’ for you to go.”

“Charlie, just because I ain’t here don’t mean I ain’t gonna talk to ya,” Jack says softly, wrapping an arm around Crutchie’s shoulder. “You and I- we’s brothers. Always gonna be brothers. You know that, right, knucklehead?” Jack nudges Crutchie in the side, which makes the younger boy let out a laugh. “Once I got enough money to get myself a place, you’s comin’ with me, ya hear? You and me, Crutch.”

“Thought you was gonna live with Dave?” Crutchie tilts his head, a lopsided grin on his face.

“Davey’ll be fine on the couch,” Jack shrugs. There’s a few beats of silence before they both break out into soft laughter, which results in Crutchie resting his head against Jack’s shoulder, just like he used to do when they were younger.

After a few moments, however, Crutchie sucks in a deep breath. “...What am I gonna do with ya gone? Who’s gonna help me get down from the roof?”

“Uh, no one, ‘cause after I’m gone, ain’t no one stealin’ my roof.”

“Who’s gonna antagonize the Delancey’s with me?”

“Where the hell did ya learn the word ‘antagonize’?”

“Who’s gonna make sure I don’t mess up? What if I mess up, Jack? I don't know what to do, and you--”

“Crutch, calm down,” Jack says gently, then rubs the younger boy’s arm. “You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna do good things, kiddo, I promise. I am so, so proud of you, Charlie… You’re gonna be just fine.”

Crutchie looks up at Jack and gulps, but eventually nods, biting his lip. “I... I guess you's right. Thanks, Jackie.”

They settle into a comfortable silence after that. Things will be a lot different once Jack is actually gone, sure, but Jack has a feeling everything will be alright. He's going to make sure of it.

For his friend.

No, for his best friend.

No, for his brother.

#i luv these boys sm #jack kelly #crutchie morris #charlie 'crutchie' morris #crutchie newsies #newsies #newsies broadway #newsies musical #newsies fic #livesies #92sies #jac writes #jac txt.

[iliveiloveiwrite]

The Darling Buds of May

A/N: Okay! so this is my first Remus Lupin fic. The idea literally just popped in my mind so I thought I’d write it out. The Darling Buds of May is book by H.E. Bates and follows the lives of the Larkin family. It is my favourite book of all time but it was also made into a TV show in the 1980s/1990s - I’d also recommend that. 

Title: The Darling Buds of May book

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Fem!reader 

Summary: She always has a book in her hand. Remus sees her reading one he has never read - he has to know more. 

requested: nope

warnings: one swear word - it’s ‘bloody’

word count: 1.3k 

He had seen her around school, her nose constantly stuck in a book. No matter where she was going or what she was doing, a book was somewhere on her person. She had been doing this since they started Hogwarts together, placed in the same house – Gryffindor.

Remus related to that too. He loved books; he loved old books and new ones, ones written by muggles long ago and ones written by muggles in the last few years. He didn’t care who wrote them as long as they had a decent narrative.

She was the same, Remus had noted one week. She was carrying a completely different book to two days previous. She was reading The Darling Buds of May, a book he had never heard of. It didn’t look to be a very long book, but she was completely engrossed, pouring over every word as if it was medicine for her very being.

Remus knew that that could be his opportunity to finally talk to her. Unfortunately, so had James and Sirius who had been pushing for contact.

“It’s a book you don’t know Moony! You have to find out what it is because you’ve read every other book on the planet.” James says.

“Ha bloody ha.” Remus states bluntly. “I don’t think I’m ready yet that’s all.”

Sirius raises his eyebrows at that, “You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? Remus, you have fancied her since your first clapped eyes on her reading one of your favourite books. You’ve been watching her read a new book now for months. If you’re worried over your little monthly problem, don’t be. I think it is time for you to approach her and start a conversation with her!”

Remus remains silent at that. He knows that Sirius is right, that if he wants any sort of relationship with her, he needs to talk to her.

Taking a deep breath to ready himself, he pushes himself away from the table. Sirius and James both let out whispered yells of victory; Remus flips them off on his way over to where she sat.

It takes him less time than he thought. By the time he gets to her, his palms are sweating ridiculously.

“Hi.” He whispers.

She doesn’t look up from her book. She hasn’t heard him.

“Hello.” He says, a little louder.

She looks up. And yeah, Remus is a goner. She’s beautiful, and Remus is fairly certain he’s fallen in love then and there.

“Hello.” She greets him, smiling.

“Hi.”

She chuckles slightly, “you’ve said that already”

“I have, haven’t I?” He asks. She nods. “What I meant to say was, what are you reading? I don’t think I’ve seen that book before.”

Her face breaks into a huge grin, and if possible, Remus falls in love that little bit more. She places her bookmark to mark her page and hands Remus the book.

“It’s called The Darling Buds of May by H.E. Bates. And I am loving it. I’m obsessed, I’m so glad it is a series because I don’t know how I’d cope with just one book.”

“So it’s good then?” Remus asks as he sits down across from her.

She nods fast. “It is. It follows the life of the Larkin family who run a farm in Kent. It is set in the 1950s and it sounds so perfect.”

“What sounds so perfect?”

“Their life. I don’t know there’s just something about how it is written that makes me want to live like it. Have a farm, cook huge meals, be in love like Ma and Pa.”

Remus hums, “That does sound like a good life.”

“Do you want to borrow it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course, I read it over the Summer, so this is a re-read for me. Tell you what, you borrow it and when you’re done come and find me and we can talk about it.”

“Yes. Definitely. I like the sound of that.” Remus agrees, too enthusiastically.

She laughs, “Okay. I’ll let you get started; I’ve got to get to first lesson anyway. I’ll see you soon Remus.”

He nods, somewhat dazed. “Uh, yeah! See you soon!”

She walks off with a wave, and Remus heads back to where James and Sirius are talking to each other, their heads bent close together. They look up when Remus sits back down, look from the book in his hands, to the glazed expression on his face and they both pat his back without saying a word.

Shaking himself out of a daydream where both him and her are sat in a living room on a cold day, wearing blankets and reading books, he opens the book she lent him. He reads the first page and he immediately understands why she loves the book.

It’s normal.

There’s no magic in it. It is completely ordinary.

Remus soon falls into the world of Ma and Pa Larkin and their six children, and how drama ensues when the tax man visits. Remus loves it, he loves every single minute of it.

He finishes the book that same night. With it only being just over 130 pages, it wasn’t much of a challenge. Still, it means that he gets to see her sooner.

The next morning, Remus gets up early and heads to breakfast with the book in the hopes of catching you there so he can talk and eat breakfast with her. She is there, another book already in her hands, pausing reading to take a bite of her toast. She looks up when Remus enters, and a huge smile breaks out across her face. Remus’ heart starts to beat a little faster.

He sits down across from her, and before he can open his mouth, she’s asking “Have you finished it? Did you like it? What did you think?”

Remus laughs, loving her love of books. “Your answers are yes, yes, and I thought it was amazing.”

“Isn’t it!?”

“It is. I love how ordinary it is. I love Ma and Pa.”

“Yes. Ma and Pa are my favourites. I love their love. Been together decades but still love each other like teenagers; it’s a dream.”

“I agree.”

It is silent between them both then. Remus hands her the book back and she places it in her bag, making sure it doesn’t get damaged. Remus is watching this when he has an idea.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yes, Remus?”

“We have a Hogsmeade weekend coming up next week. Do you want to go with me?”

Her eyes widen at his question, and he starts to panic, waiting for the rejection.

“I know we only began to speak yesterday but I’ve liked you for a while. A while, a while. Nd if you only want to go as friends that is fine, like 100% fine. I don’t want to step over any boundaries, but I thought we could go to Madam Puttifoot’s and then head towards the bookshops.”

She is silent. Remus is starting to hate himself, but before he can let himself start, (Y/N) leans over the breakfast table and presses her lips to his cheek.

Remus’ face immediately turns the red the minute her lips leave his skin. His hand grazes the spot where her lips were, he looks at her.

“Of course, I’d like to go with you on a date. I’ve liked you for a while too.” She blushes, and in a moment of complete boldness, he grabs her hand and laces their fingers together. Her answering smile is blinding.

“Oh!” She gasps, “Before I forget…” she rummages through her bag for something, untangling their hands to grab whatever it is she is looking for.

She hands Remus a book. “It’s the sequel, A Breath of French Air.”

“I can’t wait to start it.”

She grabs his hand again and smiles at Remus before turning back to her book. He decides to do the same.

So they sit there, hand in hand, sharing smiles and reading their books. Both wondering whether they’ve found the love that it is only written about in books.

#remus lupin x reader #remus x reader #young remus lupin #young remus #harry potter fanfiction #maruaders era #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin fanfic #harry potter fanfic #marauders fanfiction #My writing #remuslupin #remus john lupin #moony x reader #moony

[schrijverr]

Returning Home

Will gets seriously hurt in a battle and is discharged, there he gets a letter from Tom informing him that he is still alive. When he gets back they reunite and he spends time at Toms home where they come together. Will is put for a challenge when he gets a letter from his mother calling him home, he has to go, but Tom comes with him and together they put an end to something and return home.

On AO3.

Ships: Tom Blake x Will Schofield

Warnings:  PTSD, nightmares, flashbacks, Amputee!Will, verbal abuse(Wills mom is a dick). Just be safe okay?

A/N: This is a long fic, I mean 31K words long. I also did research for this, but you can check the notes on the fic in AO3 for that.

~~~~~~~~~~

On April 8th 1917 William Schofield went back to his own regiment after having slept for the entire day before that. His insides were hollow and his eyes saw only enough to survive. Without Tom there, the world was dull and empty. He had written Blakes mother to tell her about what happened and given it to Lieutenant Blake. Now there was nothing left for him to do, nothing to live for. So, he denied the leave that was offered him for his achievement and threw himself into the war.

They were called as backup at Arras on April 9th. It’s a repeat tactic of the Somme, with Artillery bombings in the days before they arrived and an attack where they went over the trenches that followed.

Will managed to get into the trenches on the front line, he was angry and in need of revenge or a quick death. He yelled, shot, ran and dodged, all while seeing nothing except Toms last breath and dying eyes. He heard the others whisper of course, he heard them say that he had gone mad, that shell shock had overtaken him, that he was what a man with nothing to loose looked like, a warning for fresh faces. He didn’t care, he just wanted out without bringing the shame to his family that deserting would bring.

Not that he cared much about what his mother thought of him, but he wouldn’t do that to his sister and nieces. They had gone through enough.

On May 15th, one day before the attack was stopped, Will got hit with a rogue grenade. His left lower arm was gone. He awoke seven days later on May 22nd, with an honorable discharge and a letter waiting for him. He was about to put the letter away, just like he had done with every letter he had gotten, but the unknown handwriting stopped him. He opened the letter and almost cried when he saw, who had signed it. Then he quickly started reading the letter.

April 17th 1917

Dear Scho,

It’s me, Tom Blake.

You are probably wondering why a ghost is writing you, well, I’m not dead!

I was very surprised when I woke up later in a hospital room, it’s not heaven I’ll tell you that, but I was happy to be there. My mom was very surprised to see me as well when I got back sometime later. I’m glad you were able to keep your promise and write home, because that means you have survived and gotten to my brother in time. Thank you.

Also thank you for what you wrote in the letter to my mum, it’s all very flattering. I am quite the hero, I read. I also got a medal, reckon that.

We’ve also written to Joe and he’s written back. He was glad to hear I lived and told me how you had arrived at the 2nd Devons and told him I had died. He has send over my rings. I’m glad you took them and gave them to Joe and that they weren’t stolen, which was my initial thought.

He said he you didn’t really tell them how you got there, but apparently you looked worse for wear, so you have to tell me how you finished our mission and what happened next sometime. If there is a next and you’re alive to read this.

It is very strange to be back home again. It’s a familiar and unknown at the same time, but that might be since I am the only one who has returned so far, so there is no one here who has seen what I have. It’s all too peaceful, you know. Like something is about to go wrong, but then it never does. My mum worries for me, but I don’t know how to calm her.

I hope this letter reaches you in good health, or just alive. I also hope that you haven’t traded your medals for a drink yet, because you earned that for saving my life and I rather you keep them. It’s an honor, Scho, and I can say that from experience now, so ha.

Please write back if you have the chance, I’ll leave my address at the bottom of the letter.

Yours,

Blake.

Will was shaking. He couldn’t believe it, Tom was alive, alive and well. He allowed himself a moment, just basking in the good news, before he called over a nurse and asked for paper and a pen. He hadn’t written a letter is months, but now he had never been more excited to write one.

May 22nd 1917

Dear Blake,

I am so glad to hear you’re alive. I can’t believe I read what I read. It’s a miracle!

How did you make it out of there? How did you manage with so much blood loss? I really cannot believe it.

I receive this in relatively good health, but I am among the wounded as a result of the battle by Arras. I also have received an honorable discharge and I am being shipped home on May 25th and will arrive in London by train the morning after. I do not know what I am going to do once I am back home. I’m hoping I can avoid the hospital, but I don’t think I want to go home yet. As you said, being home is going to be strange and I don’t want to worry my sister like you did your mum. I hope she is worrying less now and that you’re doing better.

I am glad that you managed to get the news of your surviving to Lieutenant Blake. That must have been a surprise to him, I was very convincing when telling him about your death. I hope he isn’t too mad at me about the false information.

As of how I got there. That is a long story, let’s just say it wasn’t a smooth ride after I left you, but I don’t think I can fit it on this paper, so I will have to tell it another time.

I still have my medal I got for the mission. I also got a medal from serving at the Somme from another soldier as a good luck charm to avenge him. So I have the entire set.

Hope to see you again.

Yours,

Schofield

Will read his letter over again, it was a bit formal and it didn’t really capture how surprised and happy he was that Tom was alive nor his want to see him again, but it would have to do. He quickly copied the address Blake had given him on the envelope, just in time to give it to a messenger going the rounds.

Wills arm hurt, but he could sit and walk a bit. He was still in his blood soaked and cut up uniform, but no one had bother to give him something else to wear, not while there were also clothes to give to the many man that had to stay behind. He wasn’t in a critical condition, so he was still near the front line, instead of moved further inlands that would come when the trucks left to take them to the boats. This would only happen after they had gotten the critically wounded home.

He was still in his thorn up clothes when he went home and he only got new clothes to wear before they boarded to train for the last stretch. Most of the men took them gratefully, all feeling disgusting. Will felt disgusting as well, but the army had only given it to him now so he would arrive looking better, pure propaganda, otherwise he would have gotten it sooner. So with blood on his clothes, no sleeve and no arm he got onto the train.

It wasn’t as if he needed to look alive for waiting family. He could have his little protest, his own small middle-finger to the government that send them to this Hell. Just for him and no one else.

He also wasn’t rushing off the train the moment they stopped. He waited until the train was steadily flowing empty before he carefully grabbed his pack and made his way out of the train.

On the station he took a second to watch grateful families reunite, hugging each other and smiling all the way. He got some horrified looks, but mostly people ignored him, until he heard a familiar voice yell: “Scho!”

Will whipped around and there he stood, Tom. There was color in his face again and he was smiling, although his face slightly fell when he looked at Will, who was now regretting his silent protest in the form of his clothes. He knew he already looked like death, he hadn’t slept properly since he thought Tom had died, but add the blood and thorn up clothes and he looks like he’s supposed to, namely, like he just got off the battlefield.

One walking ghost in the middle of a train station.

It didn’t stop him, from yelling: “Blake” and waving at him with his right hand, while running towards the shorter man.

When he gotten there he didn’t think, he just pulled him into a hug and breathed: “You’re alive.”

Then he pulled back a bit and asked: “What are you doing here? Is Lieutenant Blake coming home? Is he okay?”

Tom shook his head and said: “No, I came for you. Man, I missed you, Scho. And, of course, I’m alive, I wrote you, you wrote back.”

Will rubbed the back of his head and said: “It’s not the same as seeing it. How are you?”

“How am I?” Tom exclaimed, and nodded to Wills left arm or what was left of it, “How are YOU. You told me you were ‘in relatively good health’! How’s losing part of an arm ‘in relatively good heath’?”

Will shrugged: “I can walk, I can write, I’m conscious and alive. Nothing more to ask for.”

“You’re one tough bastard.” Tom grinned, “Can’t get rid off you, now can they. Anyway, I’m good too, I can walk, I can write, I’m con- Oi”

He was cut off by a soft slap on his shoulder along with a quiet: “Piss off, Blake.”

They both laughed some more, then Blake suddenly changed subjects: “You look like shit, by the way. Why’s that? Didn’t they have some spare clothes to share.”

“They did, only they gave them to us just before we boarded the train, fucking higher-ups and their image. This is my quiet middle-finger.” Will said, with a bit of a blush, he probably sounded ridiculous.

Tom didn’t think so, he just said: “Nice, also, if you want and you don’t have to, but if you want to, yeah, I told my mum that you were unsure of where to go after you came back, so she invited you to stay with us for a while, if you’d like and only if you want to, of course, so yeah.”

For a second Will just looked at Tom and blinked dumbly. Toms mum had invited him, Will of all people, to come to their house and stay there, just because Tom had told her that he wasn’t sure where to go. His eyes got a bit wet and he thought he had been done crying, but it seemed not. Apparently a loving mother was enough.

Tom, however, choose to interpret this differently and he quickly said: “You aren’t obligated if you don’t want to, it was just an offer really, don’t worry.”

Will managed to push back the tears and chock out: “no, I’d- I’d love to.”

Tom immediately brightened as he asked: “Really?”

“Yeah, course, lead the way.” Will smiled.

And Tom did, they bought the train ticket North and had to hurry to the station. It wasn’t until the other people in the train were giving him stares that Will realized that he was still wearing his bloodied army uniform. He tried to ignore the stares, but Tom had been taken by his silent middle-finger, so when an elderly woman continued to stare at Will, making him very uncomfortable, Tom told her: “You know how the government loves to treat their brave soldiers.” he nodded at Will, “Look how they treat their brightest, that one got a few medals, fought at the Somme. He’s still alive, one of the lucky ones, one might say.”

The woman looked horrified and quickly left their little seating area. Will looked at Tom with big eyes, which made Tom laugh as he gasped: “Oh my god, you should see your face right now.”

Will frowned as he said: “Not funny.”

“Oh, come on, she shouldn’t be staring and it’s the truth right? Besides, her face when I started talking to her was priceless and very funny.” Tom said, poking Will lightly.

Will rolled his eyes, but in the end he also laughed.

After that their conversation rolled onto new topics. Until Will asked again how Tom had managed to survive. Tom shrugged and said: “Pure luck. I woke in pain, I don’t know when, it was light out, but it could have been the next day already. Anyway, I started shouting for help and shit and right at that time medical help came by, transporting the wounded from where we were headed. They found me and I went under again, next thing I know I’m in a hospital in England.”

“That is very lucky.” Will agreed.

“So how did you, I know the attack was called off, cause Joe told me, but what happened between me getting stabbed and you arriving at the 2nd Devons?” he asked.

Will shrugged and said: “It’s a long story and we’re almost at the station. I’ll tell you later okay?”

Tom wanted to protest, but before he could the whistle blew. They had arrived on their station.

On the way over to Toms house, he pointed out little things, some Will had heard of before, some new. Tom pointed out his old school, a tree he had fallen out off, a woman he used to help in the garden, the houses he and Joe used to prank the most and the small hospital, to which he vowed to make Will go to for a check up as soon as possible.

Then on the edge of town a small cluster of cherry trees, full of fruit, came in sight, next to a welcoming, home. In the doorway there was a small plump woman, with an open and cheerful smile, waving at them. Her hair, which was tied up in a bun, had the same color as Toms and Will identified her as Toms mother.

Once she saw the state Will was in, however, the smile left her face, much like it had done Toms at the train station. Will once again cursed his decision to not wear the clothing provided, but there was nothing to change now.

When they were at the door, she checked him over entirely then she pulled him into a tight hug. Will startled a bit, but allowed himself to be held, melting into the motherly warmth he hadn’t felt for years. His relation with his mother had been strained even before he had enlisted at the start of 1915. He had been allowed home twice during all that time and comfort had become a foreign concept to him.

After a while Mrs. Blake let go and quietly asked: “My dear boy, what happened to you?”

Again tears welled up in Wills eyes, he tried to blink them away, but had to wipe at his eyes when that didn’t work. He cleared his throat a bit and said: “A grenade, ma’am.”

Mrs. Blake started tutting over him, but Tom saved him by saying: “I’m taking him to the hospital tomorrow, mum, but no one wants to be couped up when they’re just released. You know how I was when I just got back.”

That seemed to pacify her a bit as she lead them inside for tea. As she put on the water she said: “Go on, Tom. Show him to your room and get him into some nicer clothes, he probably fits yours or Joe's. He might be your friend, but he’s also a guest.”

Tom showed him to his room, where two beds were standing. He said: “Me and Joe shared this room before he hit puberty and demanded his own. Real privacy prick, he doesn’t want anyone touching his stuff. Hope you don’t mind sharing.”

“Blake, we used to share a tree, I think we can manage sharing a room.” Will answered.

They both grinned at each other, then Tom left Will on his own to change. Here he stumbled upon a new problem, buttons. With one hand he couldn’t manage more than struggle to tuck in his shirt and clumsily buttoning his pants. He hadn’t realized this problem before, because this was his first time changing clothes since he had been hit.

He quietly made his way downstairs and went into the kitchen where Mrs. Blake was pouring the tea. She saw him and raised her brow in a questioning manner as she asked: “Is there something the matter, dear?”

Will blushed and said: “I don’t want to bother you, but could you help me with the buttons? I would do it myself, but…”

He felt like such a cripple, which is also why he couldn’t ask Tom. He had always kept a tough face in front of the younger soldier. He was supposed to be the more seasoned and rational of the two, but instead he had gotten the younger man hurt, almost killed even, by not paying better attention. It wasn’t his place or his right to ask Tom for help, so Mrs. Blake it was. It also would feel less intimate, which his heart probably couldn’t handle, then if it were Tom.

She seemed to understand this, so without a fuss or a sound she quickly buttoned his shirt and handed him a cup of tea to carry, before leading the way to the table, where she left the two men to talk while she puttered around the house.

When he had sat down tea in hand Tom asked again what had happened after he had gotten stabbed. So Will told him the story, leaving out as much details as he could. He told him how another unit had given him a ride to Écoust, but not how they had gotten stuck and how he had yelled at them all until they helped him. He told Tom about the German sniper in the watchtower and how that had cost him a few hours.

“You got a bullet to the head?” Tom asked, worried frown coming over his face.

“Yeah, lost a lot of hours, had a concussion and needed some stitches, but it was fine.” Will reassured him.

He told Tom about the woman and the baby and the chase, but he left out how he had strangled the young German soldier with his bare hands. He talked about the jumping and the almost drowning. He didn’t tell him about the waterfall, the petals nor the singing, but he did tell Tom about the running over the trenches.

“Are you mad!” Tom had exclaimed at that.

Will shrugged in return: “It was that or be too late.”

“You are one mad bastard.”

Then Will told him about getting stopped and having to knock out one soldier, Colonel MacKenzie and finding Joe. He didn’t tell him how he had sat and cried next to the last tree that stood in the field.

When he was done, Tom was quiet for a moment, then he took a deep breath and said: “Must have been absolute shit. Sorry, I wasn’t there to help.”

Will gave him a sad smile and said: “Wasn’t your fault, kindness is a rare thing, but a good thing. Besides, I made it, so it’s all good.”

“Still, sounds terrible.” Tom said, “What happened then?”

Will rubbed the back of his head and said: “I rejected a short leave, just too much adrenaline, I guess. After that I returned to the 8th and we were called to Arras on the 9th of April.”

Yeah, he thought, too much adrenaline sounds much better than I was so sad you died that I just gave up and hoped the war would kill me quickly.

“Wait, we left on the 6th, right?” Tom interrupted, “Yeah, we left on the 6th, so you arrived on the 7th and like two days later you’re send out again?”

“Yeah, but that was my choice. I rejected the leave.” Will said, then he continued on before Tom could comment, “Arras was terrible, loads of deaths, but it’s all a bit of a blur. I was on the front line for most of it and I’m honestly shocked I’ve survived. We were crossing no-mans land and there were grenades being thrown and shot at us, I got hit. When I woke up, arm was gone and I was discharged, that’s also when I got your letter. And you know what happened next.”

Tom nodded thoughtfully and sipped his tea. When it became clear that the silence wasn’t going to be filled by Tom, Will tried t get some life into the conversation again by saying: “But what happened, happened. It’s not important, it’s over. I’m going to enjoy being discharged and nothing can stop that.”

Tom snapped out of his thoughts and smiled: “That’s the spirit, Scho!”

And with that any odd tension that hung around them had left. The war was behind them and it didn’t matter who though who had died and what bodily harm had happened to who. They had found each other again and now they were swapping stories and jokes, just like they had done every day for the last few months.

Tom showed him the house and the lands more carefully. He got really excited when He got to introduce Will to Myrtle. She was a lovely dog, but all of her puppies had been sold already. Tom said: “You should’ve seen them, they were so cute. Totally worth getting stabbed for.”

Will couldn’t laugh about that yet, but he was glad his friend was happy. After that they ended up sitting in front of the house in the sunshine by the orchard while they petted Myrtle and waited for dinner. The dinner itself was lovely and as Will was sitting next to Tom in the charming quiet home on English soil, while Tom was telling him about that one time Joe had fallen out of a cherry tree, he realized that he had never felt more at home.

That night he barely slept. He sat on his bed and looked at Toms chest rise and fall. Tom had a nightmare at one point, but Will knew better than to disorient him by waking him up, so instead he closed his eyes and listened to the small gasps as he wished he could take this pain away from Tom and take it on himself.

In the end he fell asleep as well, the exhaustion of being at the front lines at high alert for weeks finally taking hold. He slept quite peacefully, only visited by a dying Tom, but before he could get distressed his mind also supplied him with a happily waving Tom at the train station.

He woke slowly and rested, with the sunlight dancing over his face and Tom nudging his side. Will grumbled a bit, but got up with the insistence of Tom and the promise of breakfast. The breakfast was going quite well, he and Tom had decided to pick the cherries today before his visit to the hospital.

Then the paper had been delivered, this shouldn’t be an ominous statement, but on this morning in this house it was. The Blake family got The Times, who, under Lord Northcliff ,were rebelling against the censure of Lord Kitchener. Today The Times covered the return of some of the soldiers after the battle of Arras and it seemed like one reporter had managed to snap a picture of Will right before he was found by Tom.

In the picture he was standing on the platform alone, the wistful and lonely look in his eyes was accentuated by his missing arm and bloodied clothes. His posture was rigid, but you could see the bags under his eyes like they had been drawn on with dirt.

An uncomfortable feeling came over Will as he saw his own picture in the paper. It had been meant as a middle-finger to the government, but it was a silent quiet protest, just for himself and no one else. Will liked keeping things for himself, so the fact that this was printed in a nationwide newspaper was bad. What was even worse, was the fact that the paper had taken the effort to figure out who he was, so in bold letters the caption read: Lance Corporal William Francis Schofield, awarded with The British War Medal, The Allied Victory Medal, The Somme Medal and The Victoria Cross, home after the battle of Arras

Right above the picture was a bold headline: Does the government throw away our war heroes when they leave the war?

Will cursed under his breath before immediately apologizing to Mrs. Blake, who waved him away with: “You earned yourself that slip up, dear.”

Tom tried to break the tension: “At least you got three new bottles out of it, right.”

Will pushed him and said: “I didn’t even know about half of them. I got the Somme medal for the Somme of course, the Victoria cross for our mission, but I missed the other two.”

“Only you would miss getting two medals.” Tom laughed, then it was quiet for a second. Tentatively Tom asked: “So, what are you going to do now?”

Will thought about it for a second, before saying: “Ignore anyone, who wants to talk to me about this, I guess. And write home, they know I’m here now, so might as well hear from me that I’m holed up somewhere in the North, while figuring out what to do instead of the papers. But for now? I’m going to the hospital in the afternoon and I’m going to pick cherries in the morning.”

“You are one of kind, Scho.” Tom grinned, then he got up and grabbed a coat and walked towards the door, calling over his shoulder: “You coming, Mr. Cherry Picker.”

Will grinned and followed his friend out of the kitchen.

He hadn’t known how meditative it could be to pick cherries, but it was quite calming. They didn’t go all that fast and they would need to go on tomorrow and maybe even the day after that, but they talked and laughed while doing it, reminding them of the long afternoons they spend together just cleaning equipment and talking.

After lunch the two ex-soldiers walked through the village to the hospital. Will noticed that more eyes followed them than when they had first arrived yesterday, but so far no one had stopped them and for that he was grateful.

Will was checked over and managed to convince them that he shouldn’t be held here, but that he could recover on his own. In the end the doctor relented and send him away with painkillers and a salve against infection along with the order to come back in a couple of days.

He met up with Tom again and together they walked back to the Blake house. They were almost there when an man, a bit older than them, stopped them and asked: “Aren’t you the lad from The Times?”

Will shuffled back a bit, feeling uncomfortable with the sudden attention from bystanders the question got him, but Tom had no such qualms. He said: “Yes, Mr. Harrow, he is and he came here to escape the noise of war, don’t start making new noise for him to suffer through. The Times called him a hero right? Well, this hero wants peace, so be a good civilian and grant him that. He fought for your country and safety, he has earned some quiet.”

Once Tom was done with his spiel, Will didn’t think he could get more embarrassed, but then an old gray man stood up and clapped. Much to Wills chagrin and Toms delight, more people joined in. Will was glad these people would leave him alone, but he could have done without the fuss.

When they got to the house he went around back with some paper and a pen, needing solitude and space to think. Tom seemed to understand this and left Will be while he wrote to his family, distracting his mother by telling her what had happened in town.

May 27th 1917

Dear mum and Polly,

It is odd to write to you from another place than the trenches in France. If you have seen The Times, you know that I am indeed home in England. Maybe this picture worried you, but know that I am okay. I am not in a hospital and I am not in danger. I am staying with Blake, a friend from the war and I do not know how long I will be gone, but know I will come back.

I wish I can find some peace on English soil before coming to face you. Hopefully you do understand this.

I hope to see you all soon. Polly, please, give Mary and Jane a kiss for me and tell them that their uncle misses them very much.

Yours,

Will

He sighed and read over the letter. His family had never been that close, especially after his leave. However, he had always been there for Polly, when husband had fallen victim to the war, and loved his nieces like they were his own.

Yet, he did not want to see them. He had, a bit after the Somme, but where his room used to bring solitude and comfort it now brought a feeling of being locked in without a good vantage point to see the enemy. And where his sister had been a rock, she now brought turbulence to his already unsure life.

His sister and mother had tried to understand, but he could see how the screaming during the night had tired them out and made them look at him differently. He knew he had changed, he never was much of a talker, but after the Somme he had barely said a word. He had scared his nieces and worried sister, until it ended in a fight.

So no. He didn’t want to go home, he didn’t want to get stuck in the middle or try and be his old self to comfort others. The people he stayed with now only knew him from after or during the war, he didn’t need to pretend and that was all he wanted.

He sighed again and looked out over the fields behind the home until Tom called him in for dinner. That evening he was quiet and turned in early.

His dreams weren’t as kind to him as it had been last night. The Somme and Arras blurred together, he heard the bombs fall all around him along with the screams of his friends and comrades. Then he saw his sister in the middle of the battle field, that was slowly melting away. She looked at him accusingly as she asked: “Why didn’t you come home, Will?”, but before he could answer, she was stabbed and fell to the ground. He ran forward to catch her and as he did she turned into Tom, who was lying next to the burning barn, gasping with fear filled eyes as he asked him if he knew the way.

He woke with a scream, terrified and not really understanding where he was. It was dark and he couldn’t see, he heard a voice talking to him, but he couldn’t make out the words. A figure approached him, so he scrambled back and raised his arms to defend himself, only to realize that he was missing part of his arm and he was therefore at a disadvantage.

Then he heard a female voice as well and a light rounded the corner, followed by a small plump woman. With the light he could also make out the figure of before. It was Tom, who was looking at him with a concerned expression on his face. His mind seemed to catch up with what was happening and his body slowly relaxed as he realized he was safe. He slumped into himself where he was sat in the corner of the room and tried to find the ability to breathe again.

In the distance he could hear Blake say: “Just go back to bed, mum. I’ll handle this. I think the last thing he needs right now, is someone he doesn’t really know.”

There was an answer and footsteps fading away back into the corridor.

Once they had heard a door open and close, Tom moved forward and sat on the ground in front of Will and said: “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe now. You’re home in England and you’ve been discharged, you will never have to go back there. It’s okay, just breathe.”

Tom slowly grabbed Wills hand and placed it on his chest, then he started to breathe deeply but calm, urging Will to follow his lead. And sluggishly Will did. He breathed until he realized he had been crying and that he had been pulled forward by Tom until he was practically sitting on the other mans lap, with his head now leaning on Toms chest to listen closely to his steady heartbeat, while Tom held him secure with his left arm.

He blinked a few times and wiped his tears away in Toms nightshirt. He swallowed audibly and in a hoarse and confused voice he said: “You’re alive? Or am I dead?”

He didn’t see Toms sad face at how broken he sounded, but he did feel it when Tom used his right hand to card his fingers through Wills hair. Tom rocked him a bit back and forth and he whispered into his ear: “I’m alive. I’m alive, don’t worry. I am alive and so are you. We’re both here, back safely in England.”

He continued the rocking motion and the carding through the hair until Will moved away from his chest and looked into his eyes. For a second they just stared at each other, then Will felt the increasing need to touch Tom, so he raised his hand and caressed his cheek. Tom blushed a bit, but held his gaze. Will smiled and said: “You’re alive.”

Tom smiled back and said: “That’s what I’ve been telling you.”

Wills smile turned into a grin that faded into a bashful look and retracted his hand from Toms cheek. He now blushed heavily too and rubbed the back of his neck while moving backwards, away from Toms lap. Then he quietly said: “Thank you.”

Just as quietly Tom replied: “No problem. Are you going back to sleep?”

Will looked outside, it was dark out, but the first touches of sunlight were tickling the treetops. Going back to bed now, wouldn’t be worth it. He shook his head and Tom nodded. “Well, then I suppose I can make you some tea. Come on.”

Immediately Will refused: “You don’t need to do that. I can make some tea on my own, you should try to get some rest, it is pretty early. Just go back to bed.”

“Nah, I probably couldn’t go back to sleep if I tried. Better to get up and make myself useful.” Tom waved his concerns away.

They changed their clothes. Will had discovered that he could just keep his over shirt buttoned up for a long way, so he could fit his head through it and wouldn’t need to do up his buttons one handed. He fumbled a bit longer with his pants, but they were done at roughly the same time, so they made their way downstairs together to start the day.

They drank their tea and ate a bit of the cherry harvest from yesterday. Then Tom suggested going  for a walk through the forest nearby, just to get out of the house and away from people for a while. Will gratefully accepted, but soon came to a new realization, yesterday Mrs. Blake had helped him with his shoelaces, this wasn’t an option now. He looked at Tom who had just finished writing a note to his mum explaining where they were in case she woke up before they were back. When he noticed Will looking at him he asked: “Are you ready to go?”

Will blushed and answered: “Uh, no, I can’t, I can’t tie my shoelaces.”

Tom looked confused for a moment and started to ask why Will wouldn’t be able to do that, when he stopped after he remembered his arm. He walked to Will and knelt down, tying the laces for him, much to Wills mortification. Yet, the man couldn’t look away while Tom knelt in front of him, helping him with something so mundane and domestic.

Tom looked up and met his eyes, then he noticed the partly undone buttons and a realization dawned on him. He grinned and started doing the buttons while he said: “Come on now, we can’t have the hero in the village looking like a slob.”

It broke the weird feeling that had been building inside Wills chest as he laughed at his friend and told him to piss off.

Tom called Myrtle over to take her with them on their walk. Then they were off, through the fields towards the woods. It felt a bit like the journey they had undertaken on the 6th, but it was very different all the same. There was the same camaraderie and the same stupid jokes and stories being shared, but there was no pack on their back, no riffle hanging over their shoulder and no lives in their hands.

By the time they came back, the sun was fully out, lighting the lands, making them cheerful and welcoming. At home, Mrs. Blake had breakfast waiting for them. She had also posted Wills letter. He was grateful to her for that, because he didn’t think he could have brought himself to post it, to face his family like that.

They ate in silence and Will was glad that Mrs. Blake didn’t mention what had happened during the night, although he did feel a bit guilty for waking her.

After breakfast they went out into the orchard again. The weather was nice and the company pleasant. While they were picking, Mrs. Blake was doing the wash, humming lightly and sometimes singing a song. It was peaceful and Will could feel the knot that had tightened in his chest during the war loosen slightly.

That night, it was Will who was awoken by Tom. The younger man had a nightmare. Will didn’t know what to do, so he did what Tom had done for him, he held him tight and rocked him slightly back and forth until he calmed down. Without realizing what was happening, Will fell asleep, still holding Tom close. Both men, slept soundly that night.

The next evening Will stood looking at his own bed, he was tired, but the idea of going to sleep was immensely unappealing. He didn’t want to face the nightmares again, to see everyone he had failed. Tom saw his hesitation, the other knew what was going through Will right now, but he also knew that Will would rather die than admit to having emotions and needing help. So he decided to bite the bullet for the both of them. He said: “Hey, Scho? Do you mind if we push the beds together? I slept way better with you close.”

Wills heart rate picked up. He didn’t want to admit to himself that having Tom close sounded very tempting, but that way Tom might realize that Wills feelings for him were a bit more than just friendship. He was still on the fence when he made the mistake of looking into Toms earnest and beautiful blue eyes. He said: “I don’t mind.”

Tom smiled at him and Will decided that it had been the right move. They moved the beds and got under their covers. Will tried to stay on his half and not touch Tom, but Tom was already asleep and didn’t have those limitations. Within minutes he had twisted himself into Wills side. Will held his breath and didn’t move. He wouldn’t dare startle his friend now, afraid of his reaction if he would wake up.

When nothing happened for an hour, Will finally allowed himself to relax. Tom felt warm beside him and the constant pressure reminded him where he was and that he was safe there. Within minutes of relaxing he was fast asleep. Next to him, Tom felt Wills breaths deepen, so he cracked one eye open and looked at his sleeping friend. He smiled at the peaceful expression on Wills face and let the darkness take him too.

After that they developed a new rhythm, in the morning Blake helped Schofield with his buttons and laces, during the day they walked through the forest with Myrtle and they helped around the house or in the village, while they laughed and shared anecdotes and at night they held each other tight in the hope of banishing the war from their dreams.

One night after they had shoved their beds together. The two of them were lying next to each other, staring at the ceiling. Will was very aware about the small space between their bodies. He was aching just to take Toms hand, but he was scared of what would happen if he did. He wanted to tell the beautiful man beside him how much he meant to him and how much he loved him and badly he wanted him to love him back.

He sighed and decided that he couldn’t, not yet. He would tell Tom when he had to go, when he was leaving anyway, so it would feel less like he had been thrown away when Tom would get mad at him. He wouldn’t allow himself to loose this until he was already going to.

They continued to do this for a few more days, before a letter arrived for Will. His mother and sister had received his letter and tracked down where the Blake family resided. With a pounding heart and shaking hands Will opened the letter.

June 3rd 1917

Dear Will,

Please come back home to us. We need to see with our own eyes that you are alive and well. Mary and Jane haven’t stopped asking after you ever since the article came out and Polly doesn’t know how to explain to them why their uncle isn’t home yet.

We understand that you need time for yourself, but we also need you here. We are your family and we want you home with us. If you really can’t part from someone you’ve gotten to know while you were there, this Blake is more than welcome in our home, just come back we need every hand we can get.

Give your nieces a male authority figure in their life, don’t leave them hanging like their father did.

Yours,

Grace Schofield, your mother in case you have forgotten

Will reread the letter many times. He couldn’t place how he felt about the letter, he knew his sister and nieces missed him, but he had never thought that his mother would worry as well. He didn’t know what to do. There was something that tugged at his heart when he thought of leaving Tom behind, but he knew he couldn’t ask him to leave his mother behind and go with him back to London. Because he knew he had to go back there. This was a cry of help from his family and he couldn’t ignore it, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to see for himself.

Crying and conflicted is how Tom found him. He sat down next to Will, closer than was necessary, with their entire sides pressing up against one another. Will got comfort out of the contact, but the inside of his chest ached with the familiarity that came with sharing a tree.

Wordlessly he gave Tom the letter to read. Tom read the letter carefully and said: “Well, it looks like we’re going to London.”

Will looked at him with pinched brows and unsure if he heard correctly he asked: “We?”

“Yeah, says here I’m invited and this doesn’t seem like something you can ignore, so, yeah, we.” he said, “Unless, you don’t want me to come, which is also fine.”

Will got a hopeful feeling in his chest, but it was crushed as he said: “I can’t, I can’t make you leave your mother behind. Mrs. Blake is an amazing and loving mother, I cannot ask that of you.”

“So you do want me to come?” Tom asked.

“Of course I want you to come. You’re the only good thing that came out of this god damned war. You’re kind, sweet and you make everything a little more bearable. When I though I’d lost you, I just couldn’t function anymore, I practically threw myself over the trenches in the hope that I would get hit and I’ve had nightmares about it ever since. Seeing you alive and well is the only thing that calms me, so of course I want you to come, but it’s just selfish.” when Will was done with his spiel he was breathless and he hoped his little speech wasn’t too revealing.

Next to him Tom had gotten a small smile on his lips, although his eyes were sad. He took a deep breath and said: “I’m going to say something crazy and you might hate me after, but I think you should hear it and think about it.”

“What are you going on about, Blake?” Will asked, not sure what the other could say to make him hate him. He was pretty sure that hating Tom was impossible.

“I think I’m in love with you, Scho. And I think you feel the same.” Tom said in a tone that said it was a fact and not something that could be debated.

Will felt like he had been punched in the chest with relief and disbelieve. Tom, beautiful and perfect Tom was in love with him. In love with Will, who was cynical and quiet, boring. Will who didn’t deserve the kindness and attention Tom gave him, but basked in it, like a plant in the sun. The sun was way more important and bright than the flower, but when it shone the flower flourished.

He quietly whispered: “Holy fuck.”

Tom couldn’t help, but chuckle at that as he asked: “You’re finally also caught up, I hear?”

“How? Why?” Will still tried to comprehend how this effected everything.

“How I noticed?” Tom asked.

Wordlessly Will nodded. A soft look overtook Toms features and he said: “I noticed you making eyes at me, was because I was constantly looking at you, Scho.”

“I did not make eyes at you.” Will said with a pout, then he blushed and softly asked: “We’re you really looking at me?”

Tom felt his heart melt for the man next to him. He tried to be so tough and uncaring about the world, but it was all a shield to protect his soft and big heart. He smiled: “Yes, I was looking at you, always.”

“So, what now?” Will asked him, finally raising his head to look Tom in the eyes.

Tom shrugged and said: “If you have me, I’ll go and visit your mother, sister and nieces with you. But for now? I’d like to kiss you if that’s okay?”

Almost unnoticeable Will nodded and Tom leaned forward to meet his lips. The kiss was tender, but it was also desperate. They needed to feel that the other was here, that they were here and that this was okay. They needed this more than they needed oxygen. Tom deepened it, biting Wills lower lip and slipping his tongue into his mouth. It wasn’t needy, but caring. Neither felt the need to do more, except got lost in each other.

In the end they broke apart, because they needed the breathe, but both still held the other tight.

When their breathing was even again Will said: “If you want, I’d love to show you my home and introduce you to my nieces.”

“Then we’ll do that.” Blake said firmly.

“I do have to warn you.” Will said, “My home is way different than this.”

“I don’t mind. You can’t scare me away, Scho. I love you and now you’re stuck with me forever.” Tom told him.

Will couldn’t deny the gymnastics his heart did when Tom said that. He could feel his cheeks darken and he confessed: “I love you too, I hope you will want to stay with me, because I will never let you go.”

Tom smiled and they got lost in each other for a moment. They were pulled out of their little bubble by Mrs. Blake, who yelled: “Boys, dinner is ready!”

They startled away from each other, then Tom smiled sadly and said: “We’ll have to keep it a secret forever, you get that, right?”

Will nodded: “Yeah, it is quite sad. We’ve both lost so much for this country and they won’t even give us a bit of peace or happiness. But if secrecy allows me to be near you forever, I’d kindly take this secret to my grave.”

Tom nodded, then helped Will into an upright position, before they walked to the house for dinner. Mrs. Blake cried that evening when Tom told her he was going with Will to London, but she understood that Will had to go back and also understood that Tom wouldn’t give up his connection to the war, not yet. Tom had a hard time adjusting when he came, his stories would be a gruesome and no one would get why it was funny, which made Tom sad, he loved making people laugh and relating to them, but he couldn’t, not when they didn’t understand why he laughed at those things, that he laughed because otherwise he would break. So he had become quieter, not talking unless he had to. When Will came it was like he had transformed overnight back into himself, constantly smiling and chattering on about one thing or another. So she understood, but that didn’t mean she didn’t cry.

That night it took both men a while to fall asleep, neither wanting to be the first, who said goodbye to the small kisses they shared.

The next day, after Tom had said a lengthy goodbye to Myrtle and his mum, he and Tom were on the train going back South. Not towards boats to take them to France, but to family and London. Which in Wills eyes was the same, they were headed into battle and he was mentally preparing himself for the battlefield that was his home and family.

On the station, four women were waiting on them. One was a older, with gray streaking her stand-blond hair and lines accentuating her stoic face, the other was in her twenties with a light blush on her face along with a smile, at her feet stood two twin little girls, round seven-years-old, who were both giggling and when they saw Tom and Will they ran towards the latter while shrieking his name.

Will dropped his stuff and knelt down in order to hug both of the girls. One in purple said: “Uncle Will, uncle Will, what happened to your arm?”

Will smiled and carefully answered: “Well, there was this man, you see, and in the night he stole it.”

The one in pink asked: “He stole it?”

“Jup.” Will concurred, “I didn’t even notice it until I woke up. He had just grabbed it and ran away with it to sell to the highest bidder.”

Both girls got big eyes of disbelieve, but before Will could go on he was interrupted by the older woman, his mother. She said: “Will, you got to stop feeding them all that rubbish. They are too young for this type of talk. We don’t want to hear it.”

“It’s good to see you too, mother.” Will said as he got back on his feet.

Then he turned to his sister and smiled. They gave each other a hug and Will kissed her cheek as he said: “It’s so good to see you again, Pol.”

He looked back at his mother and nodded. There was a quiet tense atmosphere in the air for a second, but that was broken when Wills mother shook his hand and tightly said: “It’s good to have you home.”

It seemed like both Polly and Will relaxed slightly after she had done that. Then Will turned to Tom, who had quietly been watching the family reunite, and said: “This is Blake, uh, Thomas Blake. We were in the 8th together.”

Tom shook Mrs. Schofields hand first and said: “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Schofield. You can call me Tom.”

He then shook Polly's hand before turning to the twins and asked: “And who might these lovely young ladies be?”

The two girls giggled and the one in purple said: “I’m Jane and that’s Mary.”

Mary looked away bashfully, but still waved at Tom. Jane showed no bashfulness as she asked: “How do you know Uncle Will? Did you see the man who stole his arm?”

Tom laughed and said: “I didn’t see the man who stole your uncle Wills arm, sorry, he only told me later that it had been stolen and I know him from the war. Me and him were buddies together in France.”

Jane nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer Tom had given her. Polly said: “Sorry about her, she is very inquisitive. You don’t have to give her an answer.”

Will laughed and told Tom: “You’d say she’s the only one who didn’t inherit the Schofield Silence.”

Tom grinned as well and replied: “I’m glad she’s cured then.”

“Oh, sod off, Blake.” Will said with a shove.

Mrs. Schofield raised a brow at Will and said: “You have your tongue back, I take it.”

Instantly Will schooled his features and nodded, ignoring Toms questioning look. Jane didn’t notice the tense silence and happily said: “I’m glad uncle Will is talking again. It was boring when he was quiet all the time.”

Mary nodded silently as well, not seeing her mother and grandmother get big eyes of horror at her sister deceleration. Will looked at Tom, who had a knowing look in his eyes, when he had first met Will the man hadn’t said anything as well, shell shocked by the Somme the other soldiers had told him. Tom thought that no one should be silent for so long, so he had made it his mission to cheer the other up. He had been ecstatic the first time he had made Will laugh.

So he ignored Mrs. Schofield and Polly he told Jane: “I’m glad too, he used to be such a sourpuss, you know.”

Jane grinned and said: “I like you, you can stay.”

Tom laughed again before replying: “Thank you for your approval, madam.”

Will said to the others: “Just ignore him for a bit, he loves the sound of his own voice too much. Let’s stop crowding the station and go home.”

“Uncle Will?” Mary asked quietly.

“What is it, Mary?” Will said.

“Can I hold your hand on the way back?” she asked.

Before Will could reply Jane cut in: “No fair. I wanted to hold uncle Wills hand, now that he only has one, we can’t both hold it and I wanted to.”

“Jane.” Polly chided.

Will said: “I’d love to hold your hand Mary.” the girl in question smiled and Will turned to her sister, “And Jane, I need someone big and strong, since I only have one I cannot hold Marys hand and carry my bag. Would you be so kind to hold my bag? Can you do that for me or should I ask your mother to do it?”

She shook her head violently and proudly said: “I can do, I’m a big girl you know.”

Will smiled, his bag was small and had barely anything in it, but still he said: “I know you are that’s why I asked you.”

Besides him Mary frowned, so he turned to her while handing Jane the bag and gave her a conspiratorial wink, which made her giggle.

They walked down the street with Jane between her mother and Mrs. Schofield and behind them Tom and Will with Mary between them. As they were walking Tom said: “I never pegged you for the type.”

“What type?” Will asked, not sure if he wanted to know. Tom shrugged and said: “You know, the one who’s good with kids. With all the frowning and brooding you seem to do, can’t imagine you as the fun uncle.”

Will just rolled his eyes and stayed silent. He knew Tom couldn’t take the silence for too long and he was right, a few seconds later Tom had launched into a story about the time he and his family had gone to London to buy a carpet at the market. It was a special one that his mum had wanted really badly, but getting it home had been a disaster. With the way it was told, Will couldn’t help, but snort.

The Schofield home, wasn’t big or luxurious. It had three bedrooms, one for Mrs. Schofield, one for Polly and one for Schofield and Blake to share, while the twins slept in the living room.

Wills room was pretty bare, with a small bed and a mattress on the floor, it only had a tiny desk, a wardrobe and some books. Will cringed a bit when he compared it to Toms room, but there wasn’t much to do about. His family wasn’t poor exactly, but it couldn’t be classified as middle-class either. The city life was different than the countryside, with smaller houses and little to no toys. Will himself had dropped out of school when he could to help provide for his family by working in the factory, even though he had loved to learn and reading was his passion.

Tom didn’t mention anything about it, he just said: “I am the guest that gives me the rights to the bed.”

“My arm is missing.” Will protested without vigor, it just hit him that here they couldn’t share a bed. Back at Toms house Mrs. Blake didn’t come into Toms room and they were mostly up before anyone else. He wasn’t sure his family would respect their privacy and with the confession of yesterday along the developments in their relation, it would be different and dangerous.

Tom was oblivious to Wills inner musings as he shot back: “Nothing that will stop you from getting up from the ground.”

“Your legs are fine as well.” Will replied, not wanting to stop the conversation just yet.

“Yeah, but I got stabbed in the side.” Will said, then he mused before asking: “Does that trump almost getting blown to bits?”

“You’re already fine, so I think it does.” Will told him.

“Yeah, but it’s still healing. Technically.” Tom said without any heat.

Will rolled his eyes, but with that action he saw his mother and sister looking at them standing in the doorway, but with horrified expressions, so he said: “Just take the fucking bed, Blake.”

Tom grinned victoriously and dropped his stuff onto the bed. Will joined him in dropping off his stuff before turning back to his family and saying: “We should probably catch up?”

His mother nodded and said: “We’ll do that after dinner, when the girls are asleep, for now, lets make our guest comfortable.”

Tom piqued up beside Will and said: “Don’t worry about me, Mrs. Schofield. I’m fine.”

Mrs. Schofield gave him a look then turned back to her son and said: “I have the paper here, you should look for a job to help out now that your back.”

“Yes, mother, will do.” Will sighed as he took the paper from her, already things were starting to feel like old, sadly.

“Good, now, Polly and I are going to the store, I hope you an watch Jane and Mary while we’re gone.” she said.

Will nodded again and watched as they left. When the door shut behind them he turned to Tom, who had an odd expression on his face. He tentatively said: “I don’t want to pry, but in the letter she sounded a lot more worried. Nothing bad, of course, just unexpected.”

Will sighed again and looked at the paper in his hand, now noticing it were two. One was of today the other was The Times of May 27th with his picture on the front, he let his shoulders sag and told Tom: “Home sweet home.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tom asked a bit unsure.

He thought about it, before saying: “We’ve never been all that close. It was mostly my dad keeping us together, but when he died it went to shit. Then Polly's husband, George, was among the first who died in the war, so now it’s just me and the girls. It’s always been surviving and before I went back to France, we had this big fight.”

“A fight?” Tom inquired, but Will didn’t get to answer, because Jane and Mary were running up to them. Jane at the front yelling: “Mommy said you’re watching us, uncle Will. Is that true?”

Will smiled and said: “It is. Wanna play a game or read a book?”

The two girls looked at each other, communicating silently, before Jane said: “We wanna hear a story, but not from a book. We wanna hear about your adventures in the war.”

Will looked a bit unsure, not really knowing how he could make any story about the war kid friendly. Jane and Mary noticed his hesitation, so in union they pleaded and Will broke telling them: “Of course I will. Lets go sit on the couch.”

The two bounded away, Jane pulling Will along by his hand. Over his shoulder he shot a helpless look Tom, who was laughing at him without shame.

He was sitting on the couch, sandwiched between to eager girls who were looking at him expectantly and his mind was completely blank. He had no clue what to tell them. He couldn’t tell them about the bombs, the wounds, the screams, the booby-traps, the blood or the death. Uncertain he started: “One time I together with Blake went to, uh.”

He looked at Tom willing the other to save him from this position. Tom was the story teller, not him. Luckily Tom got the message and he filled in: “We went to get water from a pond nearby.”

Jane frowned and said: “That sounds boring.”

“It might sound it, but it was quite to opposite, because the pond was near the enemy, who had put up many obstacles to get there.” Tom said, turning the story over to a grateful Will.

“Yes, first we got to rows barbed wire. If you weren’t cautious, it would snag on your clothes or cut your skin and you could get stuck in its hold forever.” he said and both girls gasped, now invested in the story.

For him and Tom it had been a pretty routine and safe mission to check if the Germans had been poisoning their water supplies, but the two didn’t need to know that.  He went on: “Carefully we made our way through the rows. We had to be careful and help each other, pulling the wire up or down so that we could get through. We were almost on the other side when suddenly, Blake got stuck.”

It had been something minor that was fixed in a minute, but it hadn’t been fun and the cut had itched like hell while it healed, resulting in much complaining from Tom. Will decided that telling two little girls about having to pull metal out of flesh was not that good of an idea, so he said: “His sleeve had been cut open and a barb held him firm in place. Luckily with the skills of his companion he managed to get free and soon they went on to their next and final obstacle.”

Will thought how he was going to present the attackers they faced after that, it turned out they were trying to poison it, but Tom and Will had stopped them before they could and a permanent watch had been installed at the ponds right after. They had shot the attackers, which wasn’t all that nice for children, probably. Apparently he had been quiet for too long, because Jane asked: “What was the obstacle?”

Will blinked and said: “Uh, there were some people, enemies, who were trying to steal the water, so that we couldn’t get any.”

“That’s not nice.” Mary said, with a small frown.

“No, it wasn’t.” Will agreed, “So, we went up to the men and asked them to leave.”

Highly incorrect, he had opened fire the moment he had spotted them, Tom following his lead. He ignored the truth and went on, now just making stuff up: “The men didn’t want to leave and they started wrestling with each other. We fought and fought until, the two thieves were unconscious. When that was done we tied them up and handed them over to the police, who locked them up for their crime. The end.”

In reality they had dragged the bodies away from the water in order to preserve it, before filling up their canteens and making their way back to the camp to deliver their report.

The two girls seemed happy with the story both clapping enthusiastically, opposite to him was Tom, who grinned at him and said: “You’re quite the story teller.”

He grinned back: “I try.”

Then he heard from the doorway: “You’re not filling them up with nonsense again, are you?”

Polly and Mrs. Schofield had returned just in time to catch the last interaction. Before Will could explain, Jane had jumped up and ran over, while babbling: “He told us a story from his time away at the war. About the water that was almost stolen.”

“Don’t tell them war stories, Will, it’s not good for them to hear of such violence. I already told you that, don’t you listen?” Mrs. Schofield said.

“I’m not telling them just anything, it was a harmless story and heavily edited, don’t worry.” Will answered, feeling a new sigh rise.

Jane came to his defense: “Yeah, there was barely any fighting or anything, honestly I wanted to hear more about the man, who stole his arm, but you told me not to ask about it.”

Mrs. Schofield shushed her and went back to glaring at her son. Will was very uncomfortable under her scrutiny and said: “I was going to show Blake around the neighborhood, but we’ll be back by six.”

Then he left, while ignoring his mothers muttering about how there wasn’t much to show.

When the door fell closed behind them Will sagged and turned to Tom: “Sorry about them. I would say she means well, but I’m unsure, honestly.”

Tom smiled and said: “Your nieces are nice.”

Will smiled and said: “Thank you, they are the ones holding this family together right now, I think. Jane can be pretty brash, but she protects Mary without question.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Tom told him, “And I don’t mean to pry, but…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but Will knew what he was referring to. He said: “It’s a pretty long story, but my mother didn’t agree with who Polly's husband was and there was a big fight about it. I, well, I picked Polly's side and I don’t she has forgiven us. I was going to get away with them, but that didn’t work out and Polly had to go back after George died. I never really left, but I was rarely home. It’s just weird, I’m even wondering why I even came back. Maybe, maybe I hoped that- in the letter she sounded so sincere, you know.”

“I know, but we can go if you want.” Tom offered.

Will wanted to take him up on that offer so badly, to just step on the train and go back to Mrs. Blake with her warm hugs and big smiles, but he couldn’t go. He couldn’t leave his nieces and sister there, so he shook his head and told Tom: “I can’t leave Polly or my nieces behind. I already had to leave them once and I can’t, I can’t do that again.”

Tom remembered a thorn up Will in the middle of a field, telling them that having to go home, knowing that he had to go back, had been terrible, to leave them behind without being sure that he would come home. At the time Tom hadn’t understood why he had said that, but now he was beginning to form a picture. This is why he simply said: “Then we’ll stay.”

Will gave him a look of awe and said: “How are you even real?”

Tom laughed heartily at that and replied: “I am quite the catch.” then he changed the subject: “So, pranked a lot of poor unsuspecting people on these streets?”

Will smirked and said: “No, unlike you I’m a gentleman.” which earned him a shove and a sound of disagreement.

Will did point out some of the places he went a lot as a kid, but before they made it to the end of the street they got stopped by an elderly man, who said: “Will? That you? I haven’t seen you here in a years it seems, which was pretty strange since according to The Times you’ve been home a week already.”

Tom saw Will shrink into himself a bit at the mention of the article, but he smiled back and said: “Yeah, I’ve been staying in the countryside for a while.”

“The countryside.” the man laughed, “I always knew you was a quiet one, but what on earth is there in the countryside?”

“He was staying with me, sir.” Tom cut in, “I’m Tom, Tom Blake. Me and Schofield served in the 8th together.”

The man nodded and introduced himself as well: “I’m Henry Johnson. I was his boss in the factory, before he allowed himself to be shipped out.” he turned to Will and said, “Really, boy, it’s good to have you back.”

“I don’t think I’m fit to work in the factory anymore, so I’m not that much of use to you.” Will said, showing him his arm.

Henry waved him away and said: “I don’t care what shape you’re in, you came back. Not a lot of people, who can say that around here.”

“Thank you, Henry.” Will smiled, “Hey, you wouldn’t know if anyone was offering another job?”

“I take it your mother is already hounding you.” Henry cackled, “Is she happy to have you back?”

Tom looked at Will, afraid he’d see hurt on the other mans face, instead he saw resignation. He wasn’t sure what would have hurt more. Meanwhile Will answered: “She is telling me to look for a job, yeah. Why do you ask?”

“Well,” Henry scratched his beard, “she came by in quite a state when she had seen the article. She told me she hadn’t heard of you yet and that she was sure you had run off to avoid the responsibility you had as man of the house and that sort of thing.”

Now there was hurt on Wills face, it had been true that he had avoided going home, but he would never stay away forever, although waiting until his mother had passed away had crossed his mind.

Instead of explaining that he needed time to collect himself after everything he had seen, he sighed: “Of course, she’d say that. Did she say anything else about the article?”

Henry thought for a second, then he said: “Well, she did mention a reporter had come by to interview you. She was quite mad that you weren’t there and that if you were, she would have thrown you to him. Apparently he was offering money for a comment. ”

Will cringed a bit at that and decided he didn’t want to hear more, so he replied: “Thank you, Henry, it was good to talk to you and see you around.”

Tom shook Henry's hand and said: “It was nice to meet you, sir.”

“The same.” Henry nodded.

The two men walked on in silence for a second. The streets were quiet and calm, most were already home for dinner. Then Tom said: “So that was something.”

A few moments there was no response and Tom was just starting to worry when Will answered: “Jup.” he was quiet again, until: “You think we could take Polly and the girls back North? Just leave everything behind and leave? Is that a dumb idea?”

Tom mulled it over, before carefully saying: “Well, I don’t think it’s a dumb idea, but your sister needs to agree with it and you have to be sure. I would love to just start over, but you can’t just go and take people without a plan or something.”

“But you would want to, you think it is a good idea?” Will pressed.

“The idea sounds great, but also spur of the moment, Scho.” Tom said. He wanted to take this man, who at this moment looked so much like a lost boy, to a safe home, away from a family that didn’t understand him and hurt him, but he also knew that right now Will was hurt and maybe not thinking rationally and Tom just needed to be sure.

Wills shoulders sagged and he said: “You’re right. I’ll think about it some more, but please, promise you will think about it too.”

“Of course. I promise.” Tom said, then they turned back and headed towards the house.

In the house they were greeted with: “So, Tom, did you enjoy the tour of our neighborhood?”

Tom startled for a moment, then he said: “What? Uh, oh, yeah, I did, Mrs. Schofield. It’s good for me to stretch my legs.”

Mrs. Schofield scoffed and went back to her cooking. From the side Polly came out of the living room and quietly told them to ignore her mother and come sit with her on the couch. They did and watched Jane and Mary play with two dolls. Tom smiled at them and said: “You have two really sweet daughters.”

Polly smiled: “Thank you, they can be a handful, but I wouldn’t change it for the world. They’re good kids.”

Will also smiled, but stayed quiet and listened to his sister and his, well how would he classify Tom? Brother in arms, friend, lover? He glanced at Tom, who was just saying: “Yeah, I have an older brother, his name is Joe. He looks just like me, just a bit older.”

For a second a dying Tom flashed over his eyelids, but then he blinked and there was just a laughing, living Tom there. He shook his head and focused back on the conversation. Polly asked: “Are you and Joe close?”

“Yeah, actually. I signed up for the war, because he did it first you know. We live in a small town, not a lot of other kids around, so you automatically spend a lot of time together.” Tom answered, “Are you and Scho close?”

Polly frowned a bit, then she connected the Scho to her brother and answered: “Well, I guess. He was a quiet kid, you know. He liked to read and live in his own little world while I preferred to run around and be home late, but we stick together, well, we did, anyway.”

Will looked up and said: “It wasn’t my fault that my leave was over, Pol.”

Her face softened a bit and she said: “I know, but after, George, I just, I just don’t understand why you signed up too.”

“Everyone in the factory looked at me, like I had done something terrible by not signing up. They told me I should be more like George and protect my family, so I did. Simple as that.” Will said with a shrug.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Polly asked, Will didn’t respond.

The silent staring match was broken by Mrs. Schofield, who called for dinner. The dinner itself was awkward and quiet, the only words spoken were the ones said while saying grace.

After dinner Jane and Mary were put to bed, but not before uncle Will had told them another story. Will panicked and looked at Polly, who gave a sigh before agreeing, then Will turned to Tom who gave him a smirk before saying: “Why don’t you tell them about that time we found the treasure while digging the trenches?”

The treasure itself hadn’t been that exciting, it had been an old barrel, more exciting had been the fact that they had gotten shot at while digging although that was also pretty routine. While he told the story the barrel turned into a treasure chest and the shooting turned into others trying to steal the treasure. When the story was done, Jane yawned: “A lot of people tried to steal in France.” then she was asleep.

Will smiled and tucked her in again, he did the same to Mary. When he came back into the living room, his mother had already retired to bed apparently not interested in a son that has left, but Tom and Polly were already sitting there with a cup of tea waiting for him. Will sat down and Polly asked: “How much of that was true?”

Will shrugged and said: “Digging trenches was something pretty regular, we did find a barrel once, which got everyone pretty excited.”

“Yeah, they thought it’d be filled with booze.” Tom laughed.

“That they did.” Will smiled.

“And was it?” Polly asked, when they looked at her for a second, she clarified: “Filled with booze?”

“Oh no, moldy apples instead.” Tom said, “We threw them at the Germans, so in the end it was a bit of fun we got out of it.”

“And the people, who tried to steal them?” Polly asked.

“That would be the Germans shooting at us.” Will explained.

Polly got big eyes and Tom reassured her: “Don’t worry, we made it and besides, getting shot at while digging is just what happened. It wouldn’t be a war otherwise.”

Polly didn’t look reassured, but she dropped it in favor of asking: “When did you guys meet then?”

“That be end 1916, right?” Tom asked.

Will nodded: “They had just send in the fresh faces to fill the trenches after all the people who had been killed at the Somme.”

“Jup, I was as hell nervous to be there, especially with all these veterans there, but I found Scho here when I was fleeing from the noise.” Tom told her, “He had been sleeping under a tree instead of in one of the tents.”

“Outside, Will, really?” Polly gasped.

Will shrugged and said: “It wasn’t as if the tents were much better, the only difference was that you shared it with someone who had as much time for hygiene as you.”

Tom giggled and said: “You are such a princess.”

“Am not.” Will pouted.

“Yes, you are.” Tim said and poked him.

Will put up a finger in warning and said: “I will not hesitate to punch you in the face, stop it. I’m not a princess for not wanting to be caked in sweat and dirt sleeping in a small space with someone else also caked in sweat and dirt.”

“Whatever you say, whatever you say.” Tom said.

Polly laughed silently at the two squabbling together. Will threw Tom another glare, but stayed silent. Tom saw this as an invitation to continue his story: “Anyway, so he is sleeping outside and I’m walking there, when I stumble over him. He just looks at me and doesn’t say anything, so I tell him why I’m here and plop down next to him.”

“Because you have no manners and don’t care to ask if your company is wanted.” Will ribbed him.

“My company is always wanted.” Tom shot back.

Polly cut in and said: “Come on, Will, you otherwise would have no friends. You would have said nothing until you came back.”

“Exactly.” Tom said, smirking at Will over the fact that the others sister was taking his side and not Wills. It earned them both a small glare, but Will didn’t protest. Tom then said: “I just talked until we both fell asleep and after that I just bugged him until he talked to me.”

“What was the first thing he said to you?” Polly asked, curiously.

Tom grinned and said: “He told me to piss off.”

Polly exclaimed: “Why would he do that?”

“Because the fucker wouldn’t stop talking about cherry pie and it was making me hungry.” Will defended himself, making the others laugh.

Will looked at Polly and Tom laughing and thought to himself: I wish I could live in this moment forever, laughing with the people I love about something stupid. He smiled softly and listened to Tom telling Polly a bit about the daily routines and after that about Myrtle and her puppies that he got to see when he got home. His happiness was burst when Polly asked: “So, did you come back together?”

It was an innocent question, but the memories of April 6th and 7th were not something Will would ever forget. Holding a dying Tom and having to leave him behind while thinking he had died was one of the hardest things he had ever done. Not even mentioning the collapsing cave, the head shot, the chase, the river, the bodies, the top of the trench, getting stopped and almost not getting listened to.

Tom immediately noticed him retreating back into himself and grimaced. Polly now also noticed the change in the atmosphere and asked: “What happened? What did I do?”

Tom gave her a sad smile and said: “We were send on a mission together. He, I, uhm. I got stabbed and was assumed dead, Scho finished the mission without me and only found out I was alive more than a month later. We looked each other up once he was also back on English soil.”

“Oh, I’m, I’m sorry.” Polly said unsure.

“It’s alright. You didn’t know.” Tom reassured her.

“Yeah, it’s alright, Pol.” Will managed to choke out, then he said: “I’m gonna go, yeah.”

And then he stumbled off to bed, collapsing on the mattress in an exhausted heap. He didn’t look back to see if Polly or Tom followed him. He also didn’t undress, just collapsing and laying there, still afraid to close his eyes.

Meanwhile Tom and Polly shared a concerned look. Tom sighed and said: “He told me what happened, but very globally without much details and even with that I don’t know how he survived all that. You shouldn’t take it personally that he doesn’t want to talk about it. I can now joke a bit about getting stabbed, but when it happened, I thought I was done for. Schofield, he was there, held me until I passed out from the shock, although at the time we both assumed the worst. You don’t just forget something like that.”

It pained Polly to hear a bit about what her brother had gone through, knowing that she couldn’t do anything about it. She felt the tears well up, so she quickly wiped them away and said with a shaky voice: “Well, that was enough for tonight, wouldn’t you say. Let’s just go to bed.”

Tom saw in her the face Will made when he didn’t want to talk about something, so he let her be and said: “I think that’s a good idea. I’ll check on, Scho, before going to bed, don’t worry.”

Polly nodded and went into her room, while Tom did the same with the room he and Will shared.

He saw Will lying there, still fully clothed and sighed. He sat down on his bed and grabbed Wills foot unceremoniously, then he started to untie his laces. Will had kept his eyes focused on the far wall, obviously not looking at Tom, from the moment Tom had walked in, but now he slowly turned his head to Tom and quietly asked: “What are you doing?”

“I’m making sure you’re not going to bed fully clothed, you dumbass.” Tom replied.

“You don’t have to do that.” Will said.

“I know,” Tom said quietly, “but I want to.”

So Will let him. He let Tom take off his shoes and unbutton his shirt, helping him out of it in the process, then he stood quietly while Tom helped him step out of his pants. Tom also helped him into a nightshirt before forcing him down and draping a blanket over him.

Distantly Will felt embarrassed, but he also didn’t care. He didn’t expect the emotional sucker punch of coming home and the question of his sister. He felt a bit like he had done, when he had first read his discharge notice, afraid and out of his element. He remembered to whisper a small goodnight, before Tom nodded off, but then he stared to his ceiling waiting for sleep to take him. He longed for arms wrapped around him, but he knew it was too dangerous.

That night Schofield slept terrible. His arm hurt even though it was no longer there and nightmares followed him the entire night, just bad enough to rouse him every hour, sweating and breathing erratically, but not bad enough to wake up Tom with him. He was glad for that last fact, but when the shadows in the corner formed corpses or enemy pilots with sharp knifes, he always had to stop himself from caving and waking the other for a bit of comfort.

When he was awoken again at five in the morning, he decided to stay away and wait for Tom to wake up. He sat up and leaned against the wall, looking at the rise and fall of Toms chest. He didn’t notice the sleep taking him again until he woke up to the sound of traffic outside.

He blinked and tried to connect the sounds of war to the peaceful room, when he gotten to that point a new fear gripped his heart, the bed was empty. He quickly got of the mattress and shoved his legs into his pants, while tugging off his night shirt and leaving his hastily put on shirt hanging open, not even bothering with shoes. He threw open his door, startling Polly, and asked: “Where’s Blake?”

Spurred on by his urgent voice, she quickly said: “He’s getting us bread.”

The answer threw Will for a loop and he asked: “Why is he doing that?”

“Well, mother couldn’t and I needed to get the girls to school, so you would have to do it, but he offered to go instead to let you sleep. He said you needed it.” Polly explained.

Will let out a breath of relief he didn’t realize he was holding. Polly then noticed his state of dress and said: “Button your pants and shirt. You’re not a heathen and our guest could be back any minute and you know how mothers feels about dressing properly..”

He looked down and swallowed, he hadn’t wanted to tell his sister or his mother about his shortcomings, but it didn’t seem like he had a choice. So he awkwardly asked: “Could you do it?”

Polly gave him a strange look and he looked down to the ground as he said: “I can’t- I can’t do it, not anymore, so I- I need you to do it.”

He bit his lip and met her gaze. She had a look of pity and understanding in her eyes and Will wanted to crawl into a hole and die, but he couldn’t, so he stood there and waited. After a second Polly put down the broom she had been holding and walked over to him. She hadn’t helped him with his buttons since he was seven and she ten. The silence was tense and when she had buttoned his shirt she asked: “Should I, should I do your pants as well?”

He shook his head and forced out: “I can manage, thank you.”

She nodded and they both stepped away. Polly went on with sweeping the room and Will stuffed his shirt in his pants and buttoned it up. He went back into his room for socks and his shoes, deciding that stuffing his laces into the side of the shoe instead of asking Polly to do them was good enough for now.

He walked back in and helped Polly set the table, it was awkward and neither met each others gaze or said more than necessary. It was broken by Tom, who came back and either chose to ignore the tension or didn’t notice it. He greeted Polly and told Will: “Look who decided to wake up.”

Will blushed: “You shouldn’t have let me sleep or done my tasks, you’re a guest.”

Tom shrugged: “Yeah and you helped us with my mothers orchard, so I think it’s only fair that I help out here too. Besides I have a walk everyday according to the doctor, so it was good for me.”

“Still.” Will argued weakly.

“Scho, drop it. When I woke up, you were sitting upright, like you had fallen asleep while sitting and you still have bruises under your eyes. I slept well, for a change, I can use that to let you sleep for a few more seconds too.” Tom said with an air finality.

Will dropped it, ignoring Polly's pitting look.

They ate breakfast and Will asked what Polly was going to do now. She said: “Mother is already her job, she had gotten yesterday off to pick you up and I only have to work later. I have a position at the hairdressers, but they open at noon.”

Will nodded, he felt bad that both of his family members had to work, because there wasn’t a provider anymore. He should provide for all of them, but as a cripple he didn’t know if he ever could.

Tom asked: “Do you like working there?”

Polly shrugged: “It’s alright, I suppose. I earn well, so I’m saving up until I can get a house for me and my girls. I was hoping at the countryside. Living there seems like a dream. Me and George always fantasized about opening an inn together, you know.”

Underneath the table Tom poked Wills calf with his toes. He hadn’t forgotten the conversation of yesterday. Polly didn’t notice and Tom said: “Then you have to come up and visit my mother one day. She always wanted a daughter, sadly she got me and my brother. She’d love you and the girls.”

“That sounds wonderful.” Polly smiled, “So what about you? What are you two going to do today?”

Will didn’t react, still deep in thought. His confession to Tom had slipped his mind with everything that happened after, but now he was reminded again. The way the busy streets made him uneasy, the way it smelled made him sit on edge and the way the walls of their tiny flat closed in on him. He wanted to go, go far away from here, but he couldn’t, not without a reason.

He sighed and looked up. It was only then that he noticed Tom and Polly's expectant faces. He blinked a few times and asked: “What?”

Polly rolled her eyes and Tom teased: “Dreamer.”

“Shut up, I was just thinking about-” Will cut himself off, but Tom knew what he meant.

Will turned to Polly and said: “I think mother wants me to look for a job, but I don’t know.”

“What don’t you know, Will?” Polly asked, concerned.

“I don’t know if I want to stay.” Will said quietly.

With a broken voice Polly asked: “Why? Why do you want to leave us again?”

“I don’t want to leave you, Pol.” Will said, equally broken, “I never said that I was going to leave you and the girls behind, but” he paused to think, “but I want to go to the countryside again, maybe leave mother here, just leave all these bad memories behind, you know. We could live with each other and the girls and they could get away from here, go to a place where they can run and play outside without someone there to drive them over. Don’t you want that?”

She floundered for a bit, before saying: “I don’t know, I really don’t know. You’re asking a lot here, Will. I have a life here and we can’t just leave mother behind.”

“You thought different about that one time.” Will shot back.

“Yeah, when I could afford to. Back with George, right now, I don’t know.” she said, “She was my back up here, when you were both gone. It was just us, for years.”

“Has she changed, has she changed at all.” Will asked, a bit aggressive, but he had to know.

Polly looked thorn and she said: “I don’t know.”

“How can you not know?” Will asked.

“I don’t know.” Polly answered again.

“Well what do you know?” Will yelled.

From the side Tom was following the conversation, he wanted to step in and help deescalate the fight, but it wasn’t his place and he didn’t know where to start and what they were talking about, not completely. Polly spat back: “I know that she was here, Will. Here. Where were you?”

Will looked like he had been hit by a train. He shut down, his eyes glazing over and his jaw setting. He answered coldly: “I was getting shot at in the hope of sending money home. Today I’m showing Blake London and I’ll see for myself if things have gotten better, since you can’t.”

Then he got up and pulled Tom with him. He pushed Tom out the door first, but before he shut the door behind him, he turned and said: “I still don’t want to leave you and I’ll keep my promise. Just think about it, okay?” then they were gone.

Will didn’t say anything and Tom decided it would be best to leave him on his own to get his thoughts and feelings in order. He did follow behind, while Will unknowingly went to his old hiding place he had used so many times in the past. There was field, more a small square, behind one of the factories in the district. A bunch of metal had been dumped there and left to rust, overall people left it alone, which was exactly why Will liked it so much.

When they got there he breathed in deeply. Then he grabbed a pole and threw it with all his might while letting out a scream. After that he dropped to his knees and started crying. Within seconds Tom was by his side, pulling him into a hug, while rocking the both of them back and forth. Slowly the sobs raking through his body stopped and he started to breathe normally again.

Tom maneuvered them into a more comfortable sitting position on the ground and waited until he was done with crying. After what seemed like an eternity Will hiccuped: “I’m sorry, you didn’t need to see that.”

“Hey, ho now, no need for that.” Tom said, wiping away the tears.

Will calmed some more and Tom asked: “Want to tell me what that was about?”

Will shook his head and said: “I’d rather not.”

Tom sighed then said: “Will, you got to let me in. You can’t bottle everything up forever, so please, talk to me.”

It was the please that broke him. He wiped away the fresh tears that had spilled before saying: “My mother, she- she isn’t a nice person, okay. She was strict and we could never really do anything without her say so. She hated my dad too, always fighting with him. She couldn’t even bring herself to cry at his funeral. She had wed him in the hope to get rich, but his business failed early on in their marriage.”

Now that he started he couldn’t stop it: “At first she took it all out on him, but later she also took it out on me and my sister. She was never beating us black and blue or something. She would yell, tell us she never wanted us and that we ruined her life, you know. My sister cared for me for most of my youth, because my mother didn’t want to.”

He took a deep breath, before continuing: “I was so happy when Polly found a husband, George was a good man, a commie, but a good man. Mother was not happy about it, but my dad had given them his blessing, she hated him even more after that. George wanted to leave town, they had these dreams of a house in a small village, where they’d run an inn together.”

He smiled softly at the memory and hugged his knees. He was leaning into Toms side, but he didn’t dare to look at him. So he went on: “Mother didn’t want them to go, especially after my dad died, she told them that I wasn’t fit to be head of the household and that George was supposed to do it, but we all suspected that she wanted George to stay, because he came from a well off family. There was this fight, my sister and I had planned to run away with George and the girls together, so I supported her in the fight, but it never came to pass. My mother had stolen the money we needed to get away. They had nothing, except Georges home and if George wanted to keep my sister in the house away from my mother, he had to enlist. And I had to stay behind with her. She hated my guts too, so I made myself scares after that. When George died, I knew Polly would have to go back, so I enlisted as well, but it wasn’t enough.”

Silent tears were still spilling over his cheeks. He breathed for a while until he gathered his bearing enough to proceed: “I didn’t want to visit my mother during the war, but Polly begged me to see her, she wanted to know that I was okay. So I went home during my leave. I wasn’t me, not anymore, especially not then. I scared them all more than anything. I was supposed to stay two weeks, my mother decided that was too long for me not to earn anything, so she send me out to find a temporary job. Polly protested and they fought, hard. That’s when I decided to go back early, which me and Polly fought about. She didn’t want me to go and I wanted to get away from there again. I told everyone who asked that I had been called back early.”

Then he was done, the story he was telling had been holding him together, but now that it was over he broke again. He was falling apart in Toms arms, but the soft, soothing voice that whispered sweet nothings in his ear held him together.

Once he had calmed down a bit again, Tom said: “We can leave right now. Just hop on a train and go.”

“I want Polly to come, her and the girls. I can’t leave them, I know how it felt.” Will said.

“Then we’ll stay, but promise that no matter what she says, we leave tomorrow.” Tom said, “I don’t want your mother anywhere near you, not if I can avoid it.”

Will looked at him with awe and asked: “How are you so perfect?”

“Because I have you.” Tom said and pecked him on the nose, “So do you promise?”

Will looked unsure, he said: “I don’t know, if I can, Tom. I have to be sure, she’s still my mother and if Polly doesn’t want to go I have to stay until she does. I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. You say I have a big heart, but so do you. We’ll stay, but think about just going tomorrow, yeah?” Tom asked.

Will nodded and smiled: “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for.” Tom said, then he got up and went on: “I remember something about you showing me London?”

Will rolled his eyes, but allowed Tom to pull him to his feet. Then they went to the center of town and just goofed off in random stores, trying to find the most ridiculous item there. People looked at them strangely as they walked through town, but that only made them laugh harder.

It was near the end of the day when they got stopped by a man with a small notepad. He said: “Excuse me, but are you Lance Corporal Schofield?”

Confused Will answered: “Yes, who’s asking?”

“Harold, Harold Bishop. I’m with The Times and I wanted to ask you for a comment.” the man introduced himself.

Wills expression hardened and he curtly answered: “I have nothing to say.”

“Nothing about the treatment of our soldiers? The treatment of you?” Harold pressed on.

Will gave him a glare, he had a lot of opinions, but mostly he wanted to be left alone, so he said: “It’s a war. It’s naive to think no one would get hurt that I wouldn’t get hurt. I had my reasons and they are none of your business.”

Harold looked a bit shocked at the reaction, but sprung back into action when the two tried to walk away. He asked for just one quote about it, but Will ignored him. Tom saw they were attracting a crowd, he also saw that Will hated everyone right now. That’s why he turned to the man and said: “I think he said that it was none of your business.”

“And who are you?” Harold asked him.

“Lance Corporal Blake.” Tom answered.

Harold's eyes lit up and he asked: “Would you care to comment on the treatment of the soldiers.”

At first Tom also want to turn him away, but that wasn’t the objective right now, the objective was to leave the man without a story so that he would leave them alone. So Tom said: “I do, actually. I was stabbed, yet, two medics carried me for miles to an aid post where they saved my life. Like he said before, it’s a war, people get hurt, but everyone there is trying their hardest to get everyone home in one piece. So I’m going to ask you again to leave us alone. If you want to know so bad how we are treated you can enlist and walk into no mans land and see what happens.”

Harold was speechless. Tom gave him one last look, before grabbing Wills shoulder and pulling him away through the crowd that parted for them. They walked fast and silent until they were far enough away. When they were, Tom said: “That guy was an asshole.”

Will snorted and Tom went on: “Me on the other hand. I was pretty slick don’t ya think? Stopped that guy with just my words. Do you think I would do good in politics?”

Will raised an eyebrow at him and said: “You’re too kind, everyone would walk over you.”

“But you could protect me, right?” Tom said, “We’d be a team. I could do the talking, you’d be the common sense.”

With an eyeroll and a shove Will told Tom he was an idiot. Tom grinned, he knew he could be an idiot, but he made Will laugh and that was the final goal. Although it didn’t help much, because they had just turned into the street on which the Schofields lived and immediately Will quieted down.

Tom nudged him with his shoulder, wishing he could take the other mans hand. When Will looked at him, he said: “Hey, it’s going to be okay. And if they’re shit we leave and just roam the streets tonight until the stations open and we go in the morning. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time we didn’t sleep all night.”

Will smiled slightly as he thought back to many sleepless nights next to each other huddled in a trench while they got shelled and shot at, nothing to do except hope it would end and just talking to each other trying in vain to drown out the noise.

They were now in front of the door. The two shared a look, then Will squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.  Will pushed open the door and they entered the house.

Inside it was strangely peaceful. Mrs. Schofield was standing in the kitchen, while Polly was peeling potatoes and Jane and Mary ran around in the living room. The peace seemed to be broken by their return. The oldest of the women glared at them, while the other ignored them with hunched shoulders. The only ones that weren’t deterred by the strangeness of it all were the twins, who came bounding towards them. Jane yelled: “Uncle Will! We didn’t see you this morning, but that was okay, cause uncle Tom waved us off instead!”

Besides her Mary nodded enthusiastically. Will smiled down and asked with a smirk: “Uncle Tom?”

“Yeah,” Mary replied seriously then her sister continued her sentence, “he told us a cool story, so he is our uncle now.”

“That’s nice.” Will said, “How was school?”

“Boring.” Jane said instantly, but Mary answered: “I liked it. We did the table of seven and eight and after lunch we read in this book about a girl who got lost, but it was in this magical world and she met all sorts of weird companions like a lion and a scarecrow and I don’t know what happens next, because we’re going to read more next lesson.”

“That sounds very interesting, Mary. You’ll have to tell me what happens next when you find out, alright?” Will said.

Mary smiled and nodded happily. Then Will turned to the adults and asked: “How was your day mother?”

She pursed her lips and said: “Hopefully as productive as yours. Did you find a job yet?”

Wills muscles tensed up and he had never been more glad that he hadn’t unpacked yet, so that he and Tom could grab their stuff and leave if they needed to. He made eye contact with Tom who nodded and quietly moved closer to the room they shared. Will then answered: “I didn’t, we explored the center of town instead.”

Mrs. Schofields eyebrows shot up and she remarked: “Are you ever planning on making yourself useful or are you and your friend going to leech of us for forever?”

“No, we will go soon and leave you to your own again. Don’t worry.” Will answered, fighting to keep his voice level.

Sharply she said: “Where will you be going to then?”

“Back North, to Blakes home.” Will told her.

“And does his mother allow you to sit around like a useless lump.” Mrs. Schofield said with disdain in her voice.

Tom answered this one: “My mum allows any friend in her home for however long is needed, besides out in the field anyone could use some help. Especially now that most of the men are gone.”

Mrs. Schofield hummed, but didn’t comment. Instead she said: “Lets talk about this later, when the children are asleep.”

Will let out a little sigh of relief, this would give him time to think about how he was going to defend them, and replied: “Sure.”

Then they lapsed into silence, none of the Schofields were good at talking and today, after everything he had heard, Tom didn’t really feel like trying to make small talk with them, so he kept quiet and watched Will as he watched his nieces. There was a smile on his face, it was small but it was there, tugging on his lips and Tom silently hoped that Will would be able to keep on smiling forever.

The dinner was also silent, at the start Jane had tried to start up a conversation about the story she and Mary had come up with for their dolls, but when it became clear that none of the adults were going to listen, she huffed and ate her dinner in silence as well.

It was after they had tucked the two girls in that the played civility was thrown out of the window. Mrs. Schofield turned to Will and said: “What on earth is the meaning of this?”

Will decided to play dumb, so he asked: “About what? My tea?”

Tom had to bit on his cheek to stop the snort of laughter trying to escape. Mrs. Schofield was not as amused, she spat: “No, about you leaving. What are you thinking?”

Schofield scratched his head and said: “I’m thinking that the city is stressing me out and I have to go. I don’t want to be here and I think I am old enough to decide where I go. I wanted to leave before the war and you didn’t want me here then, so I thought you wouldn’t want me here now. I am going and you cannot stop me.”

She frowned and said: “I did not want you here and if you’re going to be like this you don’t deserve to be wanted here. If you are old enough to decide where you go, you are old enough to take some responsibility for your family. We can provide for ourselves now, but you need to help your family as well. So man up and get a job.”

“No.” Will answered, “I do not need to deserve to be wanted. I am leaving this city and going to the countryside. I won’t leave my family, because I will gladly take my sister and nieces with me. It’s just you I have a problem with and after everything I am not going to put up with you anymore.”

“I am not something you have to put up with, I am your mother.” Mrs. Schofield snapped back.

“Well then you should have fucking acted like one.” Will said, he was now committing to this. He didn’t want to stay here, his mother was still the same and now he had somewhere to go. He had wanted this since he was little and now he was going to do it, he hoped he could get his sister to join him and otherwise he would have to come back later for them. This was where he left and it felt exhilarating.

“I don’t want you in my house if you go.” Mrs. Schofield said.

“Then I’ll leave now.” Will retorted.

“You’re a coward.” Mrs. Schofield told him.

Will threw up his hands and said: “I don’t care. What do you even want from me? You don’t like me, why do you care if I go. You managed fine while I was gone, you don’t need me and I am happy to be gone.”

“You’re happy to turn you back on us.” Mrs. Schofield snarled.

“No, happy to turn my back on you.” Will told her carefully.

“You should have died in those trenches. You spineless fool.” she spat at him.

“I did die in those trenches, we all did. I’m not a spineless fool, I’m a fool who signed up for a useless war and I’m a fool who decided to come back here when I clearly should have stayed gone. I am leaving this place, I don’t care if it’s now or tomorrow, but I am gone.” Will all but roared back at her.

Tom decided that this was his time to move, so he pulled Polly from where she had been frozen next to him and took her to her room. He said: “Have you decided if you want to come with us, because if you do I suggest you start packing now. I can help if you want, but we have to move.”

Polly looked at him with wide eyes. She said: “I don’t know what to do.”

Before Tom could answer two girls sprung into their mothers arms and Jane said: “We’re scared, mommy. She’s yelling like before and we don’t like it. We always have to be quiet and she yells at us when you’re not here and that’s scary. She’s scary.”

Both were crying and Polly tried to soothe them, while she did that she locked eyes with Tom and said: “Lets start packing, quickly.”

On the other side of the door the argument was raging on. Mrs. Schofield yelled: “You’re as useless of a man as your father was. Always were a coward.”

Will seethed: “My father was a good man, the only thing he did wrong was staying silent and listening to you. I am not going to do that, not anymore.”

Will had been silent for most of his life. He had been silent when his mother spat insults as easy as she breathed when he was a child, he had been silent when his father died, he had been silent while the shells fell all around him, he had been silent while his fellow soldiers screamed in agony, he had been silent until he had met Tom and now he wasn’t going to be silent again.

“Are you hearing yourself? You’re hiding behind doing the right thing, but in reality you’re just scared. Just face that fact instead of hiding behind a war.” she yelled.

“I’m not fucking hiding!” Will screamed, “I came here and I faced you. I hoped you changed and I was willing to give you a fucking chance, but you’re the same. A greedy witch who doesn’t deserve a family.”

“If you leave you will never see any of your inheritance. Not one penny.” Mrs. Schofield countered.

“And you won’t see any more money from me. You’re going to die, alone and no one is going to care, because you made sure you aren’t a person people care about. I’m going to walk away whether you like it or not and I’m not going to regret stepping out that door, but you are.” Will said with a cold voice.

From the corner of his eyes he saw Tom with Jane on his back, bags in hand, next to him Polly also carrying some bags and a scared Mary on her hip. The two small girls were crying, but Polly looked determined. They were standing by the door, ready to go, so instead of waiting for his mother to reply he turned away and left, ushering Polly out the door before allowing himself the satisfaction of slamming it shut.

The small group hurried down the street before they granted themselves a second to breathe. Will turned to Polly and said: “You came.”

She smiled watery at him and said: “I did.”

Will slumped into himself and swayed forward. Without any hands free, Tom stepped in front of him to catch him once he toppled over. For a second he allowed himself to rest his head on Toms chest. Neither man saw Polly’s look.

Then he straightened himself up and said: “I did it. I wasn’t silent.”

“I saw. Finally used all those banter skills I trained you with.” Tom teased with a smile.

“Asshole.” Will said, but a smile played over his lips. He then turned to Polly and asked: “What made you decide to come?”

“My girls, they were so scared of her and I know what it’s like to be scared of her and I don’t want that for them.” she answered.

“I’m glad you did.” Will whispered, afraid that if he said the words too loud they might float away and disappear into the sky.

“I’m glad I did too.” she whispered back. Then she looked over the empty dark street and to the girls, who had fallen asleep after all the crying, and asked: “So what is the plan now?”

Will shrugged, the plan had been to stay awake all night, just walking around, but with two children and a woman not used to that sort of thing with them the plans had changed. Luckily Tom knew what to do: “We’re going to the station and we’re going to sit on a bench. You and the girls are going to sleep, while me and Will keep watch. The station opens at seven o’clock, so we’ll leave then. We won’t have to wait for long until we can leave.”

“Outside? All night?” Polly asked with a concerned frown.

“We have blankets in our stuff.” Will said, “You can use them. We’re pretty used to this kind of thing, so we’ll manage. I know it sucks, but tomorrow it’s over.”

Polly sighed, she had made her choice and there was no going back. So she allowed Will to take Mary from her and let herself be led to the train station. There was indeed a bench and she was parked in the middle of it, flanked by Will and Tom, who each held a girl in their lap. Their bags were set down by their feet and blankets were spread out over them.

Sitting up, Polly found she couldn’t sleep. She looked at her brother, who was watching the world around them with a calculating gaze. She turned to Tom, who was slouching a bit, but his eyes just as attentive. She didn’t want to think about what they could have seen that turned them into these alert beings. Tom caught her looking, but misinterpreted her gaze.

He said: “Don’t worry, we’ll watch over you. You know this one time we were on watch from twelve to three, but the guys who were supposed to release us never showed, turns out they had died in the surprise attack that afternoon and no one had bothered to find a replacement for them. So we’re sitting there and they don’t show and we’re not allowed to leave our post. It becomes clear that they’re not going to relieve us and I get ready for even more boring tired hours, but then Scho here nudges me and he has a pack of cards. Now I tell him we’re not allowed to have distractions while on watch, but then he looks at me and with a smirk he tells me that we’re technically not on watch anymore and that they should be glad we’re even there. That night we stayed up playing cards until the six o’clock watch came. We were never caught with our cards.”

Will leaned forward so that he could look at Tom and said: “That’s his long way of saying that it’s alright. We’ll keep watch.”

Polly smiled: “Thanks, but that’s not what’s keeping me awake right now.”

Concerned Will asked: “Then what is?”

“Is it true?” she asked.

Both boy frowned in confusion, so she elaborated: “What you said to mother, about having to go because the city is too stressful.”

Will cringed, which was answer enough, but he still said: “Yes, it’s the noise. The cars sound German planes flying overhead, the people like the shouting of Germans while they attacked and I can feel this boys throat under my fingers when I hear the fire of the factories crackle.”

He had gotten a distant look in his eyes as he thought back to what happened, he didn’t even realize what he had confessed until Polly said: “You strangled someone.”

She didn’t sound accusingly, but Will looked down guiltily anyway and said: “I was on a mission. There was a German soldier, I had to get past him, I tried to be peaceful. I told him to be quiet after I’d pinned him to a wall, but he started yelling when I removed my hand. There was a fight, I lost my rifle and knife. He died still trying knock me out.”

“Was it worth it?” she asked softly.

“Depends on how you define worth it. The mission saved 1600 British men, but I still see his face in my nightmares.” Will replied, equally soft.

Tom now recognized the story as their mission of April 6th, he placed it as probably Écoust. Will hadn’t told him how they found him when he was trying to get away from the town after he had met the woman, but he bet that this was the guy. He himself thought it was worth it, the killing of this man saved Wills life and with that also Joe's life and the rest of the Devons, in his book that was a good thing. Polly still looked conflicted, but she didn’t comment any further. Tom didn’t blame her, she hadn’t seen war, she couldn’t know how small a moment between life and death could be.

After that she tried to make herself comfortable on the bench. She curled up in Wills side and laid her head on his shoulder, but she couldn’t fall asleep. She looked at Will and said: “Remember when we were little and I used to tell you that rhyme until you fell asleep when you had a nightmare?”

Will nodded and she asked: “Could you tell me the rhyme, just so I don’t have to focus on my thoughts?”

“Of course.” Will said, and in a soft voice he started reciting:

“They went to the sea in a sieve, they did,

In a sieve they went to sea:

In spite of all their friends could say,

On a winter’s morn, on a stormy day,

In a sieve they went to sea!

And when the sieve turned round and round,

And every one cried. ‘You’ll all be drowned!

They called aloud, ‘Our sieve ain’t big,

But we don’t care a button! We don’t care a fig!

In a sieve we’ll go to sea!’

Far and few, far and few,

are the lands where the Jumbles live;

Their heads are green and their hands are blue,

and they went to sea in a sieve”

By the time he came to the end Polly was asleep, breathing even and calm, her head sagging down. Tom and Will said silently for a few minutes, until Polly’s sleep was so deep, she wouldn’t be woken by their voices. Only then did Tom dare to ask: “How are you feeling?”

Will rubbed his face and answered: “I honestly don’t really know. I thought I would feel happy and elated that I managed to leave, especially with Polly and the girls, but I don’t know. I feel empty, I guess, tired and a bit done.”

Tom nodded and said: “If it helps, I’m proud of you for going.”

He reached over Polly to take Wills hand and squeezed it for a second. He felt Will squeeze back and the other said: “Thank you. You know I never asked if your mum minded me coming over again.”

Tom shrugged and said: “My mum would take in anyone. She wanted to have a five kids at least, but then my dad died and she never loved again, but she would want this. She already loves you, sometimes I think more than me. It’s gonna be fine.”

Will blushed and said: “She doesn’t love me more.”

“Yeah, she does. She told me that you were precious and that I should look out for you. She only told me and my brother that about the other. And according to Joe, she used to say it about dad. Also she gave you her homemade hot chocolate and that’s a secret Blake recipe.” Tom said and grinned, “Sorry, Scho, but you’re a stayer.”

Will wanted to deny it, but he couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. Mrs. Blake was the sweetest woman he ever had the pleasure of meeting and he desperately wanted her approval, so the fact that she liked him was enough to make him smile like an idiot.

“What are we going to do, though?” Will asked, “Me and Polly can’t stay at your house forever, people will talk and we do need a job, or at least I do, to help your mum and thank her for everything. But I don’t know what I can do with this useless arm.”

“Calm down. It won’t help if you worry yourself into a grave.” Tom said.

“How can you be calm right now?” Will asked.

Tom said: “I’ve always seen the future as bright. We made it out and got discharged, we’re going to my mum and a town where everyone who could help in a field has gone and harvest season is coming up. We can help, you can help, even with one hand. We might even get your sister that inn she always wanted and people won’t talk, really. We just have to be careful.”

Will shook his head. Of course, people would talk if he and his sister stayed at the Blake house for the rest of their lives. It wasn’t normal and people would notice, but if Tom believed then maybe he could too. Just so everything wouldn’t be so bleak. He said: “We will.”

Will could feel the silence nag on him, he didn’t want it to be quiet, because then his thoughts would be able to take over, but he also didn’t feel like talking. It was as if Tom could read him like an open book because he said: “Did you hear about Russel and the barrel?”

Will shook his head and prepared himself to listen. Tom smiled and started: “Well, Russel hated doing a food run, but he had pissed off Sargent Sanders so he had to. He was grumbling about it when someone, I reckon it was Atkins he is one rascal, gave him the bright idea to hide. Russel hears this and finds this an amazing idea. He decides to hide in a barrel, but he doesn’t do that the smart way.”

Will smirked and asked: “Is there a dumb way then?”

Tom nodded enthusiastically and said: “Course there is. Instead of standing in it and crouching, like a sane person would do, he just sits on it and allows himself to sink down. Problem with that is that you can still see his feet and hands, Russel is quite a tall fellow and those barrels aren’t that big, but also you can’t get out. He got stuck.”

Will snorted quietly, careful not to jostle Mary in his arms or Polly on his shoulder. Tom grinned and went on: “But that’s not the end. Because Sargent Sanders finds out Russel is hiding from him and didn’t do as he was told. So now is Russel not only stuck, but also in deep trouble. It takes a while, but Sargent Sanders find him and, man, is he mad. So he starts yelling and Russel, telling him that he’s as useful as a cowshit, no, that cowshit is more useful, because that at least fertilizes the fields. Meanwhile Russel is trying to defend himself, but his voice sounds all funny since he’s still stuck in the barrel. Sargent then realized Russel is stuck, so he kicks the barrel and it falls, Russel still in it. Then he starts to roll the barrel and you know how Russel can get on trucks and carriages, yeah?”

Will nodded, he has seen Russel on a truck, sadly he was sitting next to the man when everything had gone wrong. He grimaced at the memory and continues to listen to Tom: “So Russel vomits all over himself as the Sargent is rolling him towards the edge of camp. Then he says ‘I’ll come for you tomorrow, keep watch’ and walks away. Russel spend the entire night in that barrel with the vomit, just watching the tree line at the West.”

“Are you serious?” Will asked.

Tom nodded: “Yeah, Scott told me when we were cleaning the Mess together. He witnessed the entire thing. Says they had to break the barrel to get Russel out.”

“Unbelievable.” Will said, with a head shake.

“I know right.” Tom answered.

The mood had brightened significantly and the two fell into comfortable conversation along with equally comfortable silences, alternating each other. As the night progressed there is less conversation and more silence. By the time the sun starts rising and the first people start their days both boys are nearly falling over from exhaustion.

Will decided to wake Polly up, before too many people could see her asleep on the bench and judge them. She blinked groggily and said: “Ugh, my neck.”

Tom and Will laughed, effectively shaking enough to wake Jane and Mary. Mary looked around with a confused look and Jane asked: “Why are we here?”

Polly answered: “We’re here to catch a train. We’re going on an adventure.”

“Really?” the two asked in unison.

Polly nodded then she stretched and yawned. Instantly the two men copied her. Will blinked tiredly and Tom stated: “I’m going to sleep so hard on the train.”

Will mumbled his agreement and Polly looked guiltily, the two had stayed awake to watch over her and her children. She apologized, but Will told her it was okay and that he was going to buy them some breakfast. Then he left her and Tom on the bench with Jane and Mary to pack up the blankets.

She looked at Tom and asked: “How was the night?”

He gave her a smile and said: “I was alright. Me and Scho just talked for most of it, reminded me of the war a bit, which was nice.”

“Nice?” she asked.

Tom shrugged: “Most of it was horrible, but sometime we would have nothing better to do except sit around and wait. I never realized how much of war was just sitting and waiting, but it’s boring. So we would sit next to this tree, it was our tree because we always sat there, anyway, we would sit against our tree and talk or play cards. Well, I would do most of the talking, but Scho would throw in a comment here and there and after a while he told me a bit about himself. Like that he came from London and that he was the youngest sibling. Didn’t pin him for that, so that was kind of a surprise, but it was nice you know.”

Polly could get that the talking had been nice between all the violence, but she couldn’t understand how it was nice when they also could have slept for the entire night. Then again, she didn’t wake up in sweat, panting over ghosts that haunted her. Polly just nodded and pretended to understand. Luckily Will came back with a bit of bread, which they ate before heading to the station and buying five tickets up North.

In the train Tom and Will fell asleep immediately. They were sat next to each other and in their sleep Will rested his head on Toms shoulder, while Tom rested his on the top Wills head. Polly gave them a bemused look, but she couldn’t delve to deep into the touch, because Jane had just stated that it was boring that the two had fallen asleep and that sleeping was for the night. So Polly had to stop her from waking them up.

They were almost near Toms hometown when Wills brow furrowed. The furrowing of his brow was soon followed by the tightening of his lips and then by the grinding of his teeth and the twitching of his fingers. It was only because Polly was watching him that she noticed this and she was just wondering why her brother was tensing up in his sleep when his eyes shot open and he gasped for air.

By shooting up, he hit Tom, who was now also awake and looking around dazedly. He rubbed his cheek and tried to find what had woken him up when he saw Will. The man had his eyes shut tightly and his chest was heaving, but still he wasn’t breathing. Within seconds Tom was also on the ground and by Wills side. He grabbed the sides of Wills head and said: “Scho, Scho, Will! Listen to me, it’s not real, whatever you’re seeing it’s not real. You need to breathe for me, Will, or you’re going to pass out.”

Polly didn’t know what was happening, one second ago her companions had been sleeping peacefully while Jane and Mary were pointing out things that rushed by and now there was a panicking Will that Tom was desperately trying to calm down. Jane and Mary had buried themselves into her sides as they watched their uncle with wide eyes. Polly did the only thing she could and held them as close as she could while she prayed Will would be back to normal soon.

Tom was still trying to soothe Will and wiling him to breathe. He had taken Wills hand and put it on his chest while was breathing in deeply. His other hand still holding Wills face. He asked: “Can you open your eyes, please. Will, open them for me.”

“I can’t.” Will choked out.

“Why not?” Tom asked, glad he had finally made a connection with the other.

“Dust.” Will cried, “Can’t breathe.”

A penny dropped in Toms mind and he started saying: “Yes you can breathe, there’s no dust. You aren’t in those tunnels, you’re in the train. You’re in England. There are NO collapsing tunnels, just me and you with a lot of air that you can breathe. You’re not in the tunnels, you’re here. Just open your eyes and you can see it for yourself.”

Wills breathing steadied a bit and he managed to open one eye. When he saw Tom, Tom did his best to smile at him and pointed at the blue sky outside the train window. As Will saw that his breathing calmed down even more and he repeated to himself: “Not in the tunnels.”

Tom nodded and agreed: “Jup, just in plain old England.”

Will sagged and Tom caught him and hefted Will back onto the train seat. He would much rather hug Will close and card his hands through the dark blond curls while he whispered soothingly into his ear, but that would be too dangerous in this public place with his sister nearby. So he had to settle on making Will comfortable against the side of the train carriage.

When he was done with that he turned to Polly and the twins and smiled reassuringly. Jane tentatively asked: “Is uncle Will alright?”

Tom nodded and said: “He is, just got scared and needed to be reminded where he was.”

“Why did he forget?” Jane asked.

“Sometimes when you sleep, you see memories and when you wake up, you sometimes don’t realize that you aren’t in your memory.” Tom explained, Jane still looked confused, so Tom decided to try something else, “Have you ever fallen asleep in class and when you woke up, you thought you were in your bed at home, because that it where you usually sleep?”

Jane nodded and Tom said: “Well, it’s kind of like that. You understand.”

“I understand.” Jane said.

“Good.”

Polly said: “I think, uncle Will, would like a bit of water when he wakes up again. Could you two maybe see if you can find any?”

The two girls nodded eagerly, happy to help and ran off without a fuss. Once they were gone Polly turned to Tom and worriedly asked: “What the hell just happened?”

Tom sighed sadly and said: “We saw a lot, back in France. Sometimes when we sleep we dream about things that happened, bad things, if you wake up from it, it’s sometimes really hard to snap out of it. Will gets hem more often than me and it sucks every time, but there isn’t much we can do about them.”

Polly gasped: “That’s terrible. What did he remember?”

Tom debated if he should tell her, then decided that it would be best if he did now so that she wouldn’t make Will relive it again when he woke up. He said: “During that mission we were on together. We had to go through the German tunnels. It was a trap, they had destroyed the trenches so we would take that route and than they laid down a tripwire with explosives. It went off and Scho ended up under the rubble. I pulled him out and started running while everything was collapsing around us. Scho couldn’t see a thing, dust in his eyes, he also couldn’t breathe properly. Must have been scary, hearing everything fall, but not being able to see and having to trust that I was pulling him out of there and that I wouldn’t leave him in there to save myself.”

Polly had gotten a bit white as Tom told her about their near miss at the start of their journey. He knew Will had faced a lot afterwards, but Tom also still dreamed about it and he couldn’t imagine what that must have been like for Will.

It seemed that Polly didn’t know what to say, so Tom told her: “He doesn’t want to talk about it, no one does. If I were you, I’d leave it alone. I know you’re curious, but I don’t think you want to hear.”

They were then interrupted by Jane and Mary, who had gotten hold of a cup of water and were proudly showing it to the adults. Tom took it with a thank you and sat back down next to Will. He softly shook his shoulder and after a few shakes the other woke up. Tom offered him the water and Will took small sips as Tom said; “Hey, there. Welcome back. How are you?”

Will took another sip and gave him a thumbs-up, not in the mood to talk. Tom nodded and said: “That’s good. We’re almost at the station and then just a small walk home. Think you can handle that?”

Will put down the empty cup and nodded. “Great.” Tom said, “Maybe mum will have baked cherry pie. She always does after the harvest, she didn’t get to do it before we left, but maybe she did now. Wouldn’t that be nice. A slice of pie and then to bed.”

As Tom talked the color returned to Wills face and by the end of it he had a small smile on his face. He now also noticed the others and ducked his head in embarrassment. Jane noticed and gave him a hug as she told him: “I will carry your bag, uncle Will. Don’t worry. Those memories won’t get you, just like school.”

Will frowned confused and Tom let out a small laugh. Mary was now also hugging Will and said: “I’ll help too.”

“Well, aren’t you two little helpful and loving ladies.” Tom proclaimed.

Jane and Mary beamed at him and let go of Will. Then the train rolled into the station and everyone was distracted by gathering their stuff. Will still was a bit unstable as he stood, so Tom handed him the lightest bag. Will noticed and gave him a glare, but didn’t argue.

Polly and Tom took the rest of the bags and when they were on the platform, Jane and Mary demanded that Will gave them the bag, so in the end he was carrying nothing, which Tom was grateful for. He knew how exhausted those attacks could leave you and he didn’t want to strain Will too much after that episode, especially when they had slept so little.

As they walked home Jane and Mary took great joy in pointing out things like the small windmill, the grain fields and the church. Polly was also just breathing in the fresh air and smiling. She had always wanted to visit the countryside and now she was here, with her brother and her kids, the only thing missing was her husband, but she could feel his spirit with her.

Tom and Will were just concentrating on setting one foot in front of the other. Both of them were tired and if they weren’t used to walking while dead on their feet, they would have collapsed a while back.

In the end they did get there. Tom surprised Mrs. Blake a lot when he threw open the door and yelled: “I’m home and I brought company!” without realizing she had been in the hallway by the front door.

Once the initial shock was over she flew around his neck and hugged him close. Then she let go to hug Will just as tightly and she said: “It’s so good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. Blake.” he answered with a tired smile.

“And who are the other guests?” she asked, while turning to Polly. She introduced herself as Polly did the same with her and the kids, who had hidden themselves behind her skirt.

Tom quickly explained: “We kinda ran and I am going to explain that better, but me and Scho stayed up for the entire night so we’re going to take a nap and when we wake up I’m going to explain this properly. I promise. Sorry that we barged in.”

Mrs. Blake didn’t mind. She said: “If they’re friend, they’re welcome. Besides, I just baked a cherry pie and these two little misses look like they could eat a slice, isn’t that right?”

Jane and Mary smiled shyly before nodding. They, along with Polly, followed Mrs. Blake into the house while Tom and Will went upstairs to sleep for a few hours. When they got into the bedroom Tom noticed that they had forgotten to separate the beds again, he also noticed that the sheets were different, which meant his mum had seen the beds. He blushed and hoped Will wouldn’t notice. He didn’t, instead just collapsing on the bed and toeing off his shoes, before immediately falling asleep. Tom shrugged and joined, letting the darkness take him as well.

Meanwhile downstairs Jane and Mary had eaten their slices of cherry pie and had gotten permission to explore the backyard, which they eagerly did. Mrs. Blake and Polly were still sitting in the kitchen with their tea and Polly apologized again: “I’m so sorry for the intrusion, we don’t want to be a bother. We can go to an inn or pay you for our stay.”

“Don’t even think about it, if you feel that guilty you can help around the house, but I would never ask you to pay.” Mrs. Blake answered.

“Are you sure?” Polly asked one last time.

“Yes, I’m sure. Will and his family are more than welcome here and I am sure you have a reason for the sudden arrival.” she said.

Polly nodded and explained: “Our mother wasn’t all to keen on Wills behavior when he got back. We both have always wanted to go and I guess the war or Tom finally gave him the confidence to stand up to her. She threw him out after that and I decided to go with him, instead of staying behind with her.”

“Oh, my poor dear.” Mrs. Blake said, “That must have been a horrible experience, I’m glad my Tom was there to take you here.”

“Yeah, he’s been a real help and it’s nice to see that Will finally has a friend.” Polly agreed.

Mrs. Blake nodded, then she said: “They are quite close, aren’t they.”

Polly sighed in relief and asked: “So you noticed as well? I mean, I don’t want to assume things, but they’re never too far away from the other.”

“No, they stay close.” Mrs. Blake replied.

“Is that going to be a problem for you?” Polly asked, “Because I’m willing to talk to him if it is, we wouldn’t want to overstep any boundaries after you’ve so kindly taken us in.”

“It isn’t a problem at all. Will gave me my Tom back.” Mrs. Blake elaborated, “He was so quiet when he came back, lost the liveliness he had always had and had all those nightmares. His stories that he always loved weren’t as well received and he turned into himself, but then he got that letter from Will and he was in a right state. All bustling about and telling me about his friend and how he should come and visit, because he didn’t want to go home yet and needed some space and we had space. Then when Will arrived he was such a gentleman and soon Tom didn’t have nightmares anymore.”

“I can’t imagine Tom being quiet, if I’m being honest.” Polly said, then she asked: “When did you figure it out?”

“I’m afraid that I only started thinking more closely about it when they had left. Here let me show you.” Mrs. Blake said and she got up.

Polly followed her up the stairs to one of the rooms at the start of the hall, the door hadn’t been closed yet and she could see Will and Tom on a bed. Upon closer inspection she saw that is were two beds, pushed together. Will was on the right, lying on his back. Beside him lay Tom, he was also sprawled on his bed, but he had his right arm tucked under his head and he was looking towards Will, even with his eyes close.

They were about to leave again when Will scrunched up his nose and started to move. Both women held their breaths and watched as Will rolled over in his sleep. He rolled to the left and ended up with his arm thrown over Tom and his head neatly slotting into the space on Toms chest under his chin. The arm that had been tucked under Toms head moved once Will had settled in. It came down to give Will a side hug. Their legs were now also getting tangled together and both sighed a bit in their sleep, before lying completely still again as if nothing had happened.

Mrs. Blake smiled and quietly closed the door and the two walked downstairs. When they were on the bottom of the steps she turned to Polly and asked: “So, when did you start looking more closely?”

Polly thought about it for a second, then she said: “I think I started looking right after we left home last evening. Will was swaying a bit on his feet after the fight with our mother, Tom had his hands full, but he still caught Will with his chest, letting him rest there for a second before we moved on. It was confirmed when Will had a nightmare on the train. Tom was there to calm him down, luckily. I wouldn’t have known what to do. He was so tender as he did. Made me think of my husband, you know.”

“Is your husband still away at the war?” Mrs. Blake asked.

Polly shook her head sadly: “No, he died back in 1914. They said he died as a hero, I got a medal send home.”

“Oh, you poor dear.” Mrs. Blake said as she pulled Polly into a hug. Polly leaned into it gratefully, she could understand why Will wanted to go back to this place, this comfort and this warmth.

After that they talked, well, Mrs. Blake talked for most of the time while Polly made little comments and listened. They didn’t wake the boys up for the lunch, which Jane complained about a lot, but Mary nodded silently and said that she understood. The two girls loved that they could run outside and the trees, the two blabbered on and on about until they were allowed to go out again. Mrs. Blake and Polly then set up everything for the night. The Blakes had a big house, so there was room enough for the small family in the guest room, where there were two beds, one single and one queen. Polly decided that the twins could share one and thanked Mrs. Blake again.

Only when dinner was ready were the two soldiers woken up. Polly decided that it would be best if they didn’t know she had seen their sleeping arrangement, so she just knocked at the door and yelled: “Make yourself decent. Dinner is ready.”

Inside the room Will and Tom slowly came to their senses, they had slept quite well and the bone deep exhaustion now was replaced by contend sleepiness. Tom was the first to wake properly and he smiled when he saw Will frown and burrow farther into his chest as he groaned about a few more minutes. Tom ran a hand through his curls and said: “We need to go downstairs, love. We don’t want them to come investigate what’s taking us so long.”

Will opened one bleary eye and whined: “Why.”

Tom poked him and rolled him off his chest. “Because, love,” Tom answered, “that’ll be a bit compromising. So go on, up you get.”

He pulled Will up by his hand and smiled at the small yawn. Will looked around the room and blinked slowly a few more time, his brain seemed to catch up with everything and he sighed as he stood up. Both boys checked themselves over. They were still clothed, so they didn’t have to worry about that and they decided that shoes weren’t necessary for dinner, so they made their way downstairs.

They had just started dinner when Tom said: “So, I should probably explain why we just showed up, uhm, just all together. Like, so soon.”

“You don’t have to explain, dear.” Mrs. Blake said, “Polly and I talked, she explained the whole thing, I’m glad you’re all okay and here.”

“Oh, good.” Tom said, he hadn’t really thought about what he was going to say to his mother, but the fact that he didn’t have to surprised him a bit, he gathered up his thoughts and asked: “So, what did all of you do while we were out?”

Jane perked up immediately: “Me and Mary played outside, you have trees and it’s amazing, so we pretended to be princesses of the forest and there was a dog, Mrs. Blake says her name is Myrtle, and she was lovely, so we petted her. Then there was lunch and we weren’t allowed to wake up two up, which was boring, but that was because you two were tired and Mary understood that, I didn’t, but I suppose Mary is right, probably. After that we played outside with the dolls, they’re now on holiday and they’re think about moving to the countryside together.”

Tom nodded, bit confused by the wordvomit that was thrown on him, but Will just laughed, he had gotten used to hearing rambling he couldn’t really follow when he befriended Tom. Mrs. Blake knew what to say: “Really, on holiday? Where are your dolls from then, dear?”

Jane bounced a bit in her seat when she realized there now was an adult that wanted to listen to her stories, so the rest of the dinner was filled by her excited chatter. Tom let his gaze glide over the table and rested his eyes on Will, who was smiling softly at his niece. It suddenly hit Tom that he hadn’t seen Will this relaxed since before he got the letter from his mother. Will felt him looking and met his eyes, when he saw the loving look Tom gave him, he smiled back and blushed, before ducking his head and refocusing on his plate.

After dinner Polly put the girls to bed, deciding that that had been enough excitement for the day, while Tom and Will did the dishes. Will washed, slowly and careful not to break anything, and Tom dried and put everything away. As Tom was putting away a plate he asked: “What are we going to do now? We got our whole lives ahead of us, but what do we want to do with it?”

Will furrowed his brow as he mulled over the question. After a few seconds had passed he said: “I thought we could look for job, earn some money to help around the house. I hope I can eventually afford to give Polly her dream and maybe have a small house in the woods or in the village.” he took a breath and glanced around, “Maybe share that with you, if you’ll have me.”

Tom beamed at the words and looked around quickly before throwing his arms around Will. He pressed a quick kiss to Wills cheek and said: “That sounds like the best plan. I’d love to share a small home with you.”

“One day.” Will said, “We have a lot to do before we can get there.”

Tom rolled his eyes, but agreed: “One day.”

Then they heard a noise, so Tom quickly let go and went back to the drying. Not a moment later Mrs. Blake entered the kitchen, she smiled at the duo and started helping putting the dishes away. When they were done with the dishes, Mrs. Blake shooed them to the living room and started making tea.

Will and Tom took the couch, where Myrtle also joined them, while Polly and Mrs. Blake both sat in one of the big chairs. They quietly sipped their tea for a few moments, then Polly said: “The girls are out like lights, seems all the new experiences and the excitement made them tired.”

“I’m glad they like it here.” Mrs. Blake smiled, then she went on, “It seems like only yesterday that Tom and Joe were that small, but now they’re both all grown up.”

“Mum.” Tom said in a warning tone, but Mrs. Blake went on: “When they were little they used to run around the orchard and pretend to be explorers of the jungle. It was always so cute. This one time Tom here climbed into a tree, pretending to follow an unique animal.”

Toms eyes got big and he started to stop his mum, but she went on happily: “And he got stuck up there, he knew how he had gotten in, but not how he would get out.” Tom groaned and Will couldn’t help, but chuckle a bit at his misfortune, “Luckily Joe was there to help him, always so thoughtful and kind, always wanting to help.”

Mrs. Blake got tears in her eyes and Polly put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Tom sighed and said: “I’m sure, he’s okay, mum. You know, Joe, he’s always fine, I promise. He’s going to come home alive, I’m sure of it.”

Will kept himself away from the conversation, he knew he wasn’t the most eloquent with emotions. Although he shut his eyes softly at Toms words, he knew the younger man couldn’t make that promise. The war was an ugly thing that only took and never gave. Joe might be a good fighting man with the will to survive, but that may not be enough. Tom always did believe though, he believed in the good they did, in their survival, their future, but it almost wasn’t enough, he almost died in Wills arms and Joe, Joe could die as well. That was the reality, the reality no one ever really wanted to face.

Mrs. Blake calmed down a bit and wiped away the tears, she apologized for her sudden outburst, but Polly quickly said: “Don’t apologize, it’s hard to miss someone like this, with all the uncertainties and unknowns. I get it, but you just have to trust in the other. They do what they have to do and they’re trying their hardest to come home, all we can do is wait for them.”

“Aren’t you a wise one, dear.” Mrs. Blake smiled.

Meanwhile it was suddenly hitting Will that Polly had also been through a lot while he was fighting in France. She had been alone, with just their mother for comfort when the word of Georges death reached her and Will had gone there too. He had gone to the place her husband died and he had rarely written her, leaving her without reassurance that he was still alive, that he hadn’t been taken by the war like George had.

Mrs. Blake excused herself: “I think I’m going to turn in for tonight. I’m quite tired.”

“Goodnight, Mrs. Blake.”

“Goodnight, mum.”

“Yeah, goodnight. Mrs. Blake.” Will checked back into the world.

“Goodnight, don’t stay up too late.” Mrs. Blake said, before disappearing up the stairs.

Will was still turning Polly's words over in his head, so after it had been quiet for a few seconds he said: “Hey, Pol, I’m sorry for not writing you more.”

She looked startled for a moment, then she asked: “Why do you that all of a sudden?”

Will shrugged: “Just never realized- with all of my own stuff that you’ve probably also been scared all by yourself, just here.”

Great that was just great, very well said Will, Will thought to himself. Luckily this was Polly and she knew what he meant. “I know,” she said, “but it’s not just you. I mean, I don’t know what you’re life has been like these past years, so I guess we’re even on that front.”

Will chuckled, but didn’t verbally respond, Tom did. He said: “I can help you with that, ask away.”

Polly raised her eyebrows, but didn’t argue, instead taking him up on the offer: “Well, let’s see. What did you eat?”

“All sorts of things, really. Mostly meat and vegetables.” Tom answered, “Stuff like tinned corned beef was pretty popular, but we also had mutton broth and potato pie from time to time. Most of it was disgusting”

Polly nodded: “And did you sleep in the tents?”

“No,” Tom shook his head, “I did at first, but they stank, so when Scho told me he just slept outside and it was fine I did as well.”

“And it really wasn’t uncomfortable?” Polly asked.

“Of course it was, but there’s not a lot of other options.” Tom shrugged.

Will piped in: “It wasn’t that bad, Tom just likes to overreact.”

“Not true.” Tom huffed.

Will raised an eyebrow, not gracing him with an answer. Tom turned to Polly and said: “I’m not overreacting, everything was at least mildly uncomfortable, but maybe it was all that bad. Everything was just damp from the dew and cold.”

“At the end it wasn’t, waking up with the sun was kind of nice.” Will argued.

“Yeah, that was indeed pretty nice,” Tom agreed, then he got a smirk on his face and said: “but I distinctly remember you complaining for a few more minutes every time I tried to get you up.”

Polly laughed: “At least that hasn’t changed.”

Tom got a glint in his eyes and Will felt where this was going, but he was too late to stop the question from tumbling out of Toms lips: “What was Scho like when he was younger? Beside the quietness. Did he do dumb shit? He must have, right?”

As an older sibling, Polly immediately sensed the opportunity to embarrass Will. She got a matching glint in her eyes and answered: “Well, he was a quiet kid, I think he read the entire library by the time he stopped going to school.”

“Wait, you didn’t finish school?” Tom asked.

Will shrugged: “My dad got sick, so we needed the extra money, now can we please not do this. Polly, I’m begging you.”

“Hmm, let me think about it.” Polly didn’t even pretend to think, “Nope. Anyway, he read a lot of books and he also read Dracula, do you know it?”

Tom nodded as Will groaned, only encouraging Polly to go on: “So little Will read this book and thought it was real. God, he was so scared that they were coming to get him, when he was done he hid in my bed for three nights in a row, it was adorable.”

“Are you serious?” Tom giggled, not believing that tough-as-nails-survived-the-Somme Will had been that scared of a simple book. Will pouted and said: “I was young, okay. Are you done laughing?”

Tom schooled his features, but Polly continued: “But it doesn’t end there.”

“Nooo, do you have to tell that?” Will, honest to God, whined.

Polly ignored him: “We were at Mass and the preacher is telling us about the danger of Satan and his vile workers when he suddenly get up and loudly asks what he should do when a vampire comes after him. I thought mother would die from anger, all that blood rushing to her head, meanwhile dad is not a help at all, because he thinks it’s all hilarious. The whole church was looking at him and the preacher was so confused.”

“Oh my God.” Tom wheezed.

“Yeah, I know, but it get better.” Polly said.

Out of breath Tom asked: “How can it get better?”

Will has just shut his eyes and laid down, defeated. This was the only time he had spoke up and said something, ever and it haunted him still. Why Polly though it was a good idea to bring this up ever single time was beyond him, he only knew he hated it every time she did. He mused that that probably was why she kept bringing it up, but he was willing to ignore the thought in favor of going back to dying of embarrassment.

Unaware or uncaring of Wills defeat, Polly said: “Will misinterpreted the preachers confusion, so he starts to explain what vampires are and how he had read that they feared the Lord, so if one was after him if he could come to the church for weapons against them. Then as he is still standing there, the preacher explains to him that vampires aren’t real, meanwhile the whole church is just staring at this small child, who interrupted Mass to ask about vampires of all things. It was the talk of the neighborhood for weeks.”

Tom was laughing, but he managed to say: “That is amazing.”

Will grumbled a bit, but if his pain would make Tom laugh like that he supposed he could be in immense pain for the rest of his life. He kept up his grumpy attitude as he said: “I preferred this conversation when it was just questions about the war.”

“Come on, don’t be such a sourpuss.” Tom grinned and ribbed him in the side with his elbow.

“I can ask some more questions if you want.” Polly said, “For example, what was strangest thing you saw?”

Both thought about it. Tom said: “Hmm, that’s a pretty hard question.”

In Wills mind memories of dead cattle, dead soldiers in impossible positions, rats the size of his head and the abandoned baby flashed by. He said: “I don’t think you want to know.”

“Why not?” Polly asked.

Will didn’t know what to say, maybe that everything strange he had seen was violent, because violence was the only thing there? But that sounded a bit dramatic, he had seen Tom there, so it hadn’t been that bad. Tom said: “Because, Scho isn’t, what one would call, a positive thinker, but I know a good one! I saw one guy get shot in the chest and just walk away from it unharmed. That was pretty strange.”

Polly’s eyes got wide and she asked: “How did he do that?”

“Turns out he had a cigarette case and it stopped the bullet, it was some sort of miracle.” Tom explained.

“Oh yeah, I think I heard that.” Will said, “That was Main, right?”

Tom nodded: “That was him. Lucky bastard.”

“Do you know what he did with it?” Will asked.

“No,” Tom shook his head, “but I reckon he sold it, I mean, I know a lot of guys who’d see that as a good luck charm.”

“I don’t know, maybe he kept it for himself.” Will said.

Tom shrugged: “Maybe he did, yeah.”

There was a lull in conversation, until Polly quietly asked: “What was it like? The fighting, I mean.”

“Polly.” Will said, in a tired and warning voice.

“What is it, Will?” Polly said, “No one talks about, they’ll talk about the food or the things they did when they were free, but no one is talking about what made them wake up screaming or stop writing. No one is talking about and how can I ever understand what you went through if you don’t tell me what happened to you? I just want to know what changed everyone and everything that’s all.”

It was quiet in the room after her little speech. Will was silent, he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t want to think about, he didn’t want to remember and he most definitely didn’t want to try and find the right words to talk about it. Tom struggled for a bit before saying: “It’s really hard to find words to describe it, most of it is just confusion and fear.”

Tom moved his hand as he tried to find better words, but he couldn’t. It wasn’t often that Tom didn’t know what to say. Will could feel himself drifting away and he tried to ground himself by focusing on Polly and her awaiting face. There was a mixture of concern, determination and fear for knowing on her features. Will could feel his own face harden as he said: “The only word to describe it is terrible, okay. Now, drop it, please.”

Polly lifted her chin, she got up and said: “I’ll drop it, but only for now. It isn’t healthy to keep everything in. One day you’ll tell me something and I’ll be waiting for that day. Goodnight.”

She walked out of the room and both men were just quick enough to call a goodnight after her. When her footsteps had disappeared up the stairs, Will allowed himself to slump into Toms side, resting his head on Toms peck right over his heart. He listened to Toms stead heartbeat and watched as Tom rhythmically stroked Myrtles head.

After a few moments, in which his muscles relaxed bit by bit, Tom opened his mouth: “She took that well.”

Will let out a small huffed laugh, then he adjusted himself until his head was lying on Toms lap and he could look the other in the eyes. He smiled and said: “I think you’ve been a bad influence.”

Tom gave him a look and asked: “Have I, now? How come?”

“Well,” Will answered, “You never know when to shut up and stop asking, she used to be also quiet, like me, maybe not as bad as me, but you know, not talkative. Then you showed up.”

Tom laughed at that, then he said: “I am happy I cured her then.”

“Cured her? Cursed her, more likely.” Will grumbled without any heat.

“You don’t mean that, love.” Tom said, “I cured you too. It’s almost hard to imagine how quiet you were when I first met you.”

Will nodded silently, back then he hadn’t said a word, believing it was useless to form connection with people who were doomed to die. He still preferred to listen, but by befriending Tom he had become better at talking and storytelling, or that’s what he liked to think.

Will was playing the evening in his head and he suddenly blurted out: “I called you Tom, do you mind that?”

“Of course not.” Tom answered, a thought seemed to cross his mind, “Do you mind that I called you love?”

Will blushed at the nickname, he had noticed how it unconsciously slipped out of Toms mouth and the fuzzy feeling it gave him was something he didn’t want to loose, so he hadn’t mentioned it. He shyly said: “No, I don’t mind.”

Tom hummed happily and smiled down at Will. He was brought out of his trance by an unhappy Myrtle, when Will had started talking he had accidentally stopped petting her head and now she was protesting with an unhappy sound. Both men made eye contact, then they started laughing. Tom went back to petting Myrtle as he told her: “You are one impatient dog, aren’t you. Yes, you are. Getting grumpy the moment the attention is gone. Well, don’t worry, I got a lot of affection and attention for you, yes, I have. Yeah, good girl.”

They continued to lie on the couch until three in the morning. Neither man wanted to face the nightmares sleeping would bring and both were still rested enough from their nap that day. In the end they decided to go to bed, because they had been nodding off on the couch and it was a bad idea to sleep like that in the open.

Tom was already in bed, but Will was standing by the foot of the bed and asked: “Shouldn’t we move the beds apart, just to be safe?”

Tom looked at their bed, which consisted of the two beds shoved together. He thought about it, but then shook his head: “Nah, no one will come barging in for no reason and if they do we can tell them it is so that the room is less crowded. We need space, we’re used to that kind of thing now with all the fields we used to sleep in.”

Will looked unsure, but he crept into the bed none the less, not even pretending to go to sleep on his own side. Instead he crawled into Toms open and waiting arms and allowed himself to get tangled up with his partner in everything. He was about to drift off when he heard Tom whisper: “I’ll protect you from the vampires, don’t worry, love.”

If Will had more energy, he would have gotten up to argue, but now he cracked one eye open to glare at Tom. Then he said: “I hate you.”

Tom smirked and said: “No, you don’t.”

Will inclined his head in such a way that he could softly kiss Tom then he sighed: “No, I don’t.”

And with that both fell asleep.

The next morning Tom startled awake with a small gasp, it was around 6 o’clock and his dreams had been haunted by an accusing dead brother. With his sudden movement he had also woken up Will, who was blinking groggily as he asked with a sleep heavy voice: “Are you okay?”

Tom sighed: “I think so, just a nightmare, don’t worry.”

“If anyone knows how shit nightmares can be, it’s me. So are you okay?” Will said.

“Yeah, I’m fine, really. Just worried about Joe that’s all.” Tom replied.

Will nodded and tried to find some way to comfort Tom without giving him false hope. In the end he settled on saying: “Joe can handle himself, I wasn’t there for long, but I saw how capable he is. If someone is making it out alive, it’s him.”

“Thanks, love.” Tom smiled and settled into his pillow again.

Will watched Tom stare at the ceiling without noticing it, he was too deep in thought. Will bit his lip and asked: “Think you can sleep some more or do you want to get up?”

He could see how relieved Tom was that he proposed the option first. He said: “I’d like to get up, but you can stay here and I can call you for breakfast.”

“No,” Will shook his head, “I’ll join you.”

They got up. Will put his arms through his shirt and put on his pants, then he waited until Tom was dressed enough to button his shirt and put on his socks. Tom tied his own shoelaces, while Will buttoned his pants and shoved his feet into his shoes, not bothering with the laces.

No one was downstairs yet. They puttered around in the kitchen making tea for themselves. They drank in silence, just soaking in the morning and the others presence. When they had put their cups by the sink Myrtle came running up to them, glad that her morning walk buddies were back. Tom tied Wills laces, while Will wrote a note, then they walked out the house and into the sun, making their way to the woods nearby.

When they reached the woods, Tom slipped his hand in Wills, giving him a small smile that the other returned. The sun was barely filtering through the leaves and the birds were just starting to chirp. Myrtle darted around their legs, seeming content. Tom filled the air with pointless chatter, pointing out random birds, flowers or trees, Will nodding along.

They reached a small clearing and Tom threw a stick for Myrtle. They waited as she bounded after it, Will now tentatively said: “Hey, Tom, I’ve been wondering, uhm, are you okay?”

Tom raised a brow at him and asked: “Why are you wondering that?”

“Well,” Will rubbed the back of his head, “I know I’m not dealing the best, I mean, I’m doing better and everything, but I still have nightmares and stuff and I know you have too and, I don’t know, I just realized that I haven’t been there for you the most, you know.”

Toms expression softened and he pulled Will into a sideway embrace. He said: “I’m doing fine, Will, don’t worry. I’ve been having some nightmares, of course, but it’s honestly not so bad. Everyone reacts different, I guess I’m lucky.”

Myrtle came hurdling back, with a different stick than Tom had thrown. Tom took it from her and praised her as he threw the stick away again, watching her run away. Will leaned his head on Toms shoulder and said: “Okay, just tell me if it gets bad. Promise?”

“Promise, love, promise.” Tom murmured before kissing his crown.

“Thank you.” Will sighed as he soaked in his lover.

When Myrtle had gotten a stick three more times, they turned back and walked home. They were still walking hand in hand, it had become a habit for them to walk with Will on the left so that Tom could grab his hand whenever he wanted. Will loved it every time, when he could feel Tom slip his fingers between Wills and how perfectly it fit time and time again. Sadly they had to let go when the reached the edge of the woods and walked back into civilization.

At the Blake home, Mrs. Blake was waiting for them outside waving something white. When they got closer they could see it was a letter and when they were within hearing distance she yelled: “Joe, it’s from, Joe!”

Tom smiled and started running, Will and Myrtle following his lead instantly.

He took the letter and started reading it aloud

June 6th 1917

Dear mum and Tom,

I hope that when you receive this letter everything is alright. I’m fine, everything here is mostly the same, bad food and no beds.

Last I heard from you you told me Lance Corporal Schofield was staying there. You told me about the paper debacle. How is he doing after all that? Hopefully better than when I last saw him, although it is hard to get worse than that. Good to know that he heard you’re alive, Tom. Say hello to him from me. You also mentioned that he lost his arm, how did that happen?

Your words of encouragement are really good to hear out here. It seems like spirits dampen with every day that passes, but I have hope that we’ll be home soon. We’ve been fighting for so long, there must be an end in sight.

I honestly don’t know how to go on from here, there is not much to tell. The only things worth mentioning would only serve to upset you and I don’t want to frighten you. It’s nothing too bad, just war and the monotony of life in the trenches. Who knew war involved so much waiting?

You also mentioned that all Myrtles puppies have been sold, I hope she isn’t too upset about it. She always had a soft soul and in these quiet moments I miss her company.

Anyway, how are you all over there? Did a lot happen since you last wrote or is life there as easy as I remember?

I hope to hear from you soon,

Yours,

Joe Blake

When Tom was done he looked up with a smile and said: “This letter is only three days old! He must be fine. That’s great!”

Mrs. Blake smiled back, tears in her eyes, and replied: “He is, oh he doesn’t know how well timed his letter is. I was so worried.”

After a beat of silence Tom asked: “Hey, mum, is it alright if I write my own letter? We can put it into one envelope of course, but it might be nice for him if he got two letter instead of one and a lot has happened since we last wrote him.”

“No problem, dear.” Mrs. Blake said, the boys didn’t see her knowing look.

Tom have her a quick hug and a thanks, then he rushed into the house to gather his stuff to write back. Will hurried after him yelling: “Tom, you still have to eat.”

Mrs. Blake heard a “Later!” coming from up the stairs and she rolled her eyes fondly at her energetic boys antics. She gave Will two plates with breakfast for the both of them to bring upstairs, which he took gratefully. Before he went, he turned around and asked: “Where are Polly and the girls? I just realized I haven’t seen them.”

“Oh, don’t worry, dear. They’re out to the market. I needed some stuff and they wanted to explore the town.” she told him.

He nodded and murmured a thanks before hurrying up the stairs.

In the room Tom was sitting at his desk, focused completely on his writings. Will took a moment to admire him, then he quietly walked forwards and put down the plate, holding his own in his hand. Startled Tom looked up and smiled guiltily. Will shook his head fondly and moved to the windowsill to sit there and eat as he looked out over the orchard. Tom took this as a sign of forgiveness, because he went back to his letter while absentmindedly nibbling on his toast.

He found that it was quite hard to not spill too much about his time with Will and how things had progressed, so he looked his letter over when it was done.

June 9th 1917

Dear Joe,

It’s amazing to hear from you again! We were just starting to get worried, so your timing was perfect.

Yes, Scho is still staying with us, but we’ve been to London between letters. It didn’t pan out the way we planned, so now his sister, Polly, and his two nieces, Jane and Mary, are staying here as well. It’s become quite lively around here, if you’re not here soon we might replace you. I’m joking of course, you’re presence here is missed, but don’t worry we have left your room alone.

It’s going well. We’re pretty close, since he’s living in my house now. We’re sharing my room, like we used to when we were younger. Because he can’t and doesn’t want to go home, he’s decided on staying here. We’re going to see if anyone needs a hand and is willing to pay for it.

You also make me curious about the state Scho must have been in when he showed up to the 2nd Devons, because you make it sound like he was on deaths door. And Scho isn’t much of a sharer, so I’ll never get the real thing out of him. He told me briefly that his journey had been anything but fun, which was to be expected. Yet he never told me the extend of his injuries.

As for the paper thing, it seems like he’s mostly okay now. He did get harassed by some people on the streets and a reporter and his mother also seemed to have opinions about it. He didn’t like the attention, but I made sure the reporter wouldn’t have a new story, so it mostly died down again, thankfully.

He did loose his arm, the lower part of his left one to be precise, as far as I know it was a rogue grenade in the battle of Arras. But I don’t know specifics, so you’ll have to ask him when you see him.

I hope everything is alright with you and that you’re not in unnecessary danger. I know you don’t want to worry mum, I didn’t either, but it sounds like things are still rough there. I also know this is selfish, but when the Germans attack, please, make sure you’re not an easy target.

As for the monotony, I know what it feels like. But I’m sure there is some entertainment, maybe a bit too vulgar for mum. God knows I won’t tell her any of the stories that went around.

Myrtle is quite alright. Me and Scho are up pretty early every day, so we take her to the woods. She loves to chase sticks, but she still can never seem to bring back the right one, so on that front she’s still the same. She is also missing you, don’t worry, she hasn’t forgotten about you.

Mum will also be writing you, she knows much more about what’s been going on in town, seeing that we only got back yesterday. Mum had baked a cherry pie, which was awesome. I forgotten how good it tastes. You’re honestly missing out.

That’s it from me, I want to end by saying that you’re doing great work out there. Don’t let the rest get you down, it’ll get better and you’ll get home soon. Hold on and stay strong.

Yours,

Tom

He turned to Will and asked: “Do you want to read to check it?”

“For what would I check it?” Will asked, shifting his attention from the view to Tom.

Tom shrugged: “If I haven’t said too much or something. I don’t know.”

Will thought for a moment, then asked: “Do you want me to read it?”

Tom looked at his letter, he felt a bit bad for asking his brother about Will on April 7th, but he couldn’t help himself, he was just too curious. Yet, he also didn’t feel like hiding stuff from Will, so he decided in saying: “Well, I don’t know. I did talk about you and I asked him a quick question about our mission, so if you want to read and tell me if it’s okay, then that would be nice, but I won’t force you.”

Will stopped for a moment at the mention of their mission. He got up and leaned over Toms shoulder and quickly scanned the letter. Tom shifted a bit under his scrutiny, feeling guilty about how he had phrased that bit of the letter. Before Will could say something, Tom softly said: “Sorry.”

Will gave a kiss to the top of his head and answered: “It’s okay, I know I’m not the most talkative around. It’s good.”

“Really?” Tom asked, just to be sure.

Will nodded and collected their plates, he walked out the door and called over his shoulder: “I’m going out to see if I can find a job. Are you coming?”

Tom quickly scrambled about, folding his letter and putting it in an envelope, where his mum could put her letter as well, before getting down the stairs. Downstairs Will was already waiting for him with a smile at his hurried movements. Tom gave him a light shove then he quickly told his mum what they were doing and handing her the envelope.

They walked down the road and Tom said: “It’s now the time for haymaking, but we only have two farms here that do, so I don’t know if they need a hand, but they also have sheep there and it’s time to sheer those, so we can also try our luck with that. Otherwise we have to see if anyone is hiring, but I don’t think so, we mostly grow wheat, but the sowing season is over and it still has to grow before they need much help.”

Will hummed then asked: “What did you do? Before the war, I mean?”

Tom said: “Nothing much. I finished school then I signed up for the war effort. I was thinking about studying, but now the idea of sitting for hours in stuffy benches in confined spaces, seems terrible, you know.”

Will nodded, but inside he was wondering what Tom was giving up. Will himself had loved school, well, English. Reading and twisting language to create worlds and stories had been something magical for him and he had been quite sad that he had to drop out to go to the factory. But he knew that he could never have that and it did seem less appealing after everything, so he did understand, but he also felt a pang of sadness for the Tom that could have been if the war had never happened. A small, selfish, part of him piqued up to tell him that if the war hadn’t happened he would have never met Tom and he felt guilty how sad the idea of never meeting Tom made him, even with the circumstances it was under.

In the end their efforts were fruitless. The farms hadn’t needed help with the hay and they told them that for the sheering of sheep you’d need two hands. Tom might get a temporary job, but for Will there was no such luck. Tom felt guilty about it, so he told the farmers he’d come back later with a decision.

They were now sitting on the fountain in the town square where it was relatively empty, just a few people milling around and the elderly man, who had clapped for Tom now almost two weeks ago, sitting on a bench in the shadows. Will was staring at the sky, worrying about what he should do now. Tom noticed this and tried to comfort him: “It’s going to be alright, okay. There are lots of other things to do in a town and I’m sure someone needs help and could use a guy.”

Dejectedly Will said: “Yeah, a guy with functioning limbs maybe. I never really thought about it, I mean, sure it sucks, but then I found out you were alive, so it was a bit better and then I realized a lot of people had it far worse. Some didn’t come home other can never see or walk again, so really I shouldn’t complain, but this sucks. How can I help my sister or your mum when no one will even hire me? Face it, Tom, I’m good for absolutely nothing.”

Tom was stumped. He had never seen Will like this, sure he had seen moments when self-loathing was interwoven with what he said, but never this explicit. He didn’t know how to react to make it better and he didn’t want to upset Will even further. He made an aborted movement as he tried to find his words. Before he could the elderly man from he bench had gotten up and walked over, he said: “Hello, I didn’t mean to interrupt or eavesdrop, but I couldn't help, but overhear your conversation.”

Will looked up, a small spooked yet hopeful expression on his face. The man went on: “I’m Charles, Charles Lester from Lesters Bookshop and I think I can help you out. I am getting old, you see, and I need someone who can write, see and has two legs, you seem to fit in the category, do you not?”

Will nodded: “I do, but…”

There was a lot he wanted to say, like he couldn’t carry a lot with one hand, he never finished school, he might be a waste of time in the end, but before he could tell Charles why he shouldn’t be hired Tom jumped in: “He does, thank you so much, sir. He is pretty smart, a hard worker and he can walk that’s for sure. You won’t regret it.”

Charles smiled and said: “That sounds promising, you can come in tomorrow at eight if you accept.”

Tom elbowed Will in the side and Will quickly answered: “I’ll be there, thank you so much, Mr. Lester.”

“Just Charles is fine.” Charles tipped his hat and waved goodbye as he started to make his way down the street.

Will looked at Tom and asked: “What just happened?”

Tom smirked and said: “I was right, someone could use a guy.”

Rolling his eyes Will replied: “Yeah, yeah, you were right and I was wrong.”

But he couldn’t stop smiling, he had a job and not just that, he had a job in a bookshop. He always wanted to be in a place with lots of books, maybe he could even read a bit at the job or earn enough to buy some books for himself, this was almost too good to be true. Tom saw Will smile and decided that he was going to make sure nothing would make him stop smiling.

It wasn’t a lot and there was still a lot wrong in the world. The war was still raging on in France, Joe wasn’t home yet and he might never be, their love was still illegal and their families may never accept them. But right now things were looking up, this was the start of their new life, the first brick in the wall that would become the rest of their life.

No, it wasn’t a lot, but for now, it was enough.

#RR writing #1917 #1917 movie #will schofield #Tom Blake #Tom blakex will schofield #Blakefield #Tom x Will #Blake x Schofield #Trigger warning #tw: ptsd #tw: homophobia #tw: panic attack #tw: verbal abuse #OCs #Tom Blake mom #Joseph Blake mentioned #Wills sister #Wills nieces #Wills mom #long fic #1917 fic