#anyway still slowly chipping away at first years camp fic

[suckishima]

it seems that the better i get at writing the longer it takes me to do it

[bffsoobin]

Dulce Periculum

➤ Halloween!au, highschool!au, (vague)80s!au, punk!yeonjun x reader, general horror, ghosts, fluff, angst

↳ when yeonjun’s best friend dares the two of you to spend Halloween night camping in the abandoned old school your whole city thought was haunted; you think nothing of it. After all, there was no way the rumors of spirits that would follow you home were true, and you really wanted the prize from winning the bet.

Warnings: general horror themes, breaking and entering, underage drinking and smoking, mentions of drug use, ghosts, mentions of blood, hauntings, creepy shit in general so don’t read if you’re sensitive/not a fan.

Word Count: 4,994

A/N: I hope no one is surprised that I wrote an actually scary Halloween fic 💀 this was so much fun and totally captured all of the things I really love the most! It also felt so good to write another long fic for Yeonjun since I definitely don’t do that enough. As always, I didn’t proof read or edit this, but I hope you all enjoy it anyway! (also pretend this gif is dark hair Yeonjun for the vibes)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:••:•.•

“Seriously?” Yeonjun lifted a dark eyebrow as he popped a potato chip into his mouth. You held out your hand to silently ask for one that he set in your hand with no hesitation. Your usually populated lunch table was eerily empty today, and even inside the walls of your high school, the chill of the October air had you leaning into Yeonjun’s body to soak up his perpetual warmth. Across the table, Johnny sat on the top of a chair, exaggerating his already insane height as he spoke down to the two of you. 

“Seriously, man! The place is haunted. My cousin went there once a few years ago and-”

A laugh bubbled out of your throat at the sight of tough looking Johnny; donning his classic black leather jacket and silver belt chains, a half burnt cigarette glowing eerily orange at the end with a thin streak of smoke leading it’s way to the ceiling, visibly frightened over the idea of a haunted old school. 

“You’re losing it if you think the place is actually haunted. Johnny. It’s just a town legend for gods sake. People just go there and get high and fuck. It’s called Grave Academy. You think that shit is for real?” You spat, disbelief soaking every edge of your voice. You loved a good horror story just as much as the next fucked up teenager, but there was no fucking way that half burnt building was actually haunted. Beside you, your boyfriend had reduced himself into a fit of giggles, draping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you until you were almost sitting in his lap. He pressed a kiss to your cheek, the cool metal of his lip piercing making your nose crinkle. 

“I love when you act like that,” he whispered, gently biting at the lobe of your ear before laughing even more at the gagging noise Johnny had begun to project into the air. Yeonjun backed away just as suddenly as he had descended on you, taking his scent of mint and smoke with him.

“What’s your point, Johnny? Just tryin to scare us?” Yeonjun asked, balancing his chin on his palms as he stared lazily across the table again.

“The point is a dare,” Johnny began, leaning forward as if he were about to tell a secret only your ears could hear. “I dare you to spend Halloween night at Grave Academy. Then you’ll see how haunted that place actually is.” He took a long drag off of his cigarette, ignoring the pointed throat clearing of a cafeteria worker you knew for a fact smoked at least three a day while sitting in the parking lot. Johnny waved her off and reached into one of his jacket pockets, producing the worn leather wallet that he kept on him like a religious talisman. From its folds he produced a crisp, wonderfully green 50 dollar bill and held it between his fingers. Your eyes widened at the bill, and if it weren’t for Yeonjun’s hand on your thigh stalling you, you would have been launching yourself across the table to snatch it from Johnny. “I bet you,” his voice was muffled around the cigarette, “this 50 dollar bill and a six pack that the two of you couldn’t spend a whole night there without getting spooked.”

You and Yeonjun exchanged incredulous looks as Johnny continued to watch over the two of you. 

“Well, yeah,” Yeonjun announced, standing so abruptly that the chair he had once occupied was sent skidding awkwardly against the tiled floor. He extended a paled, jewelry decorated hand across the table and waited for Johnny to meet it in the middle. As soon as their hands connected, the smirk on Yeonjun’s face widened. “It’s a deal.”

-----

Halloween of ‘87 brought along frigid whipping winds that cut to the bone. You and Yeonjun had layered up in all your warmest clothing but he still had to crank up the heat in his old car as the two of you drove to the abandoned school to meet up with Johnny. With your hands tucked underneath your legs, you grumbled, “it’s way too cold for this shit, Jun.” Still focused on the road, Yeonjun hummed in acknowledgement.

“Got another idea for how to make 50 bucks and get a free case of beer?” He finally glanced over to you, eyebrow arched in question as you pouted. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll warm you up when we get there.” Despite the chill of the air, a warm blush sprouted on your cheeks that Yeonjun only smiled at as he made the final turn before crunching the gravel of the parking lot under the tires. Johnny was already there, leaning against the side of his car with a freshly lit cigarette balanced between gloved fingers. Seconds after Yeonjun parked the car, Johnny was next to it in two large strides, leaning down and knocking on the driver’s side window. Yeonjun pushed the door open, forcing Johnny to step back instead of getting nailed in the legs with the heavy metal. 

“Hello to you too,” Johnny grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest like a scolded child. “Nice of you to finally fucking show up.” Yeonjun laughed as he rounded the car to pop the trunk and haul out the copious amounts of blankets and pillows you had insisted on bringing. 

“What, Johnny? Afraid out here all by yourself?” Your boyfriend teased as you scooped a pile of blankets into your arms. Johnny exhaled through his nose, throwing his hands in the air. 

“Well fuck, Yeonjun. I don’t know, is it wrong of me to be afraid of the ghost of the little kid who literally got possessed and killed all of his classmates? Or the fact that all the kid’s spirits are stuck here? Plus, it’s Halloween so you know...the dead walk among us and shit.” He was shifting on his feet, taking intermittent drags from his cigarette as he spoke. You snickered to yourself, the weight of the blankets in your arms making your muscles a bit sore. 

“Can we just get this over with?” You ask loudly. 

“I would love to,” Johnny nods, patting Yeonjun on the shoulder and gently shoving him toward the old, slightly crumbling building. After the initial fire, the lot had been bought and rebuilt as a halfway house for troubled youth. The company ended up going bankrupt and the building was left to rot. 

“If you two make it out alive, my money and beer are yours.” Yeonjun nodded as a gust of wind ripped through the lot, sending a complaint flying from your mouth as you glared pointedly toward your boyfriend. He took the hint easily, maneuvering his blankets under one arm and placing the other at the small of your back. 

“See ya tomorrow, Johnny,” he waved him off easily, pushing you forward through the rusted, overgrown gate. You heard Johnny peel out of the parking lot just as you and Yeonjun stepped onto the first cement block of steps. An old sign hung at the top of the entrance, paint chipped off in large strips that have disintegrated with time. For a moment, you hesitated, your chunky black boots seemingly stuck to the surface under you. 

“C’mon,” Yeonjun encouraged, walking up the next four steps until he wrapped his free hand around the tarnished iron handle. “Aren’t you cold?” He asked, prompting your feet to move behind him. You wouldn’t admit it to Yeonjun, but a slight feeling of anxiety was beginning to make your palms sweat. Producing a flashlight out of his pocket, Yeonjun readied himself to step into the building. 

The door opened with a high groan, it’s hinges crackling underneath the weight of Yeonjun’s push. From your spot just outside the door, it was hard to understand the layout of what was once considered a grand building. Hiding slightly behind your boyfriend’s broad shoulders, all you could see was part of a staircase which surely had steps rotted away from years of disuse. A sudden fear for the integrity of the floorboards shot through you, and if you had had a free hand, you would have clutched it into the soft material of Yeonjun’s jacket. 

Forever fearless, he took the first step inside the building and hummed thoughtfully. 

“Well,” his dark mass of hair swished around as he looked side to side, “no ghosts that I can see.” You knew he was joking for the sake of your comfort, but you couldn’t bring yourself to rally back as you took a tentative step inside. From this point, you could see the interior of the entry hall in its full glory. 

Wallpaper, which you assumed was once a gentle cream color, was peeling in jagged, messy strips to expose the inner structure of the house. A more recent addition, the various colors of spray paint from other visitors, struck a stark contrast with  Above you, a dangerously loose looking chandelier hung. It was small enough, but still obviously made with a tough metal that had begun to fall down with the water-logged sagging and cracking of the plaster ceiling. The image of it falling down had your stomach churning. Maybe Johnny had been right. 

Slowly, the two of you made your way inside, surveying the floors through the measly yellow light of the flashlight until you found a good spot to place your blankets. Although it was “good” in the sense that there were no massive holes in the wall or ceiling to expose you to the cold, you still felt uneasy. As you set to work laying down a thick patch of blankets to protect you, Yeonjun took a lap around the room to see what he could find. This room, like all of the others, had streaks of spray paint on almost every surface. Most of it was harmless, and it almost gave you comfort to know that so many other people before you had come here and made it back out alive. Not that anyone would miss you or Yeonjun if you didn’t. Another shiver, this one not borne from the cold, ran down your back. Once you’d made a successful little nest, you found the will to walk over to Yeonjun again. 

He was slouched a bit, studying something with a surprising intensity. When you walked up behind him and slipped your hands under his jacket-mostly to warm your hands- he startled a bit. 

“Did I scare you?” You teased, pushing your face into his back as you nuzzled up closer. 

“No, just surprised. Can I steal the flashlight?” Pouting, you handed it over and resumed your snuggling in hopes that he would finally catch the hint. If you were going to be stuck in this creepy house all night you might as well have some fun. The vague thought of stealing a cigarette from Yeonjun’s back pocket crossed your mind, and your hand was well on it’s way until he muttered under his breath. 

“What?” 

“Just- look at this,” his voice was higher pitched, bordering a bit too close on surprised for your liking. Your mind buzzed as you slid to his side to lean into the point of interest. While you were making up the blankets, Yeonjun had been messing with what seemed to be an inconspicuous old blackboard, shut tightly due to years and years of misuse. Somehow, he had managed to slide it open, revealing a second layer of blackboard underneath. For a second, you were going to make a joke about skipping school and forgetting what a blackboard looked like- until you saw the writing. 

Inside the ring of light casted by the flashlight, a sentence made of slightly messy, too close together letters stood. 

“Don’t let him catch you.” 

Neither you or Yeonjun moved as you processed the words. 

“Jun,” your voice was wavering, choked over the tears building in the back of your eyes. “Maybe we should-”

“No, I’m sure it was just someone here before who messed with it. It wasn’t even that hard to push and there were obviously other kids here before us.” He turned on his heel quickly, putting your backs to the wall and taking your hands in his calloused palms. His nose and cheeks were red from the cold, but he still looked the image of perfection. 

“Still cold?” He asked, eyebrow cocked as he leaned imperceptibly closer to you. All thoughts of fear vanished, replaced quickly by the heat that swamped you upon seeing the gleam in his honeyed eyes. You couldn’t ignore the way the black metal of his lip ring glinted in the low lighting. 

“Y-yeah,” you confirmed quickly, tearing your eyes away from his lips just long enough to get the message across. Swiftly, he pressed his lips against your own, the cold brush of his nose skimming against yours making you giggle. He laughed back, using his hands tangled in your hair to keep you steady as he walked you backwards in a direction only he could see, deepening the kiss until you forgot that you were deep in the heart of Grave Academy. 

----

Morning came surprisingly fast after you and Yeonjun had worn yourselves out to your heart’s content. When you woke up, it was to the soft sound of the fall breeze rustling what was left of the leaves on a nearby maple tree. In the stark daylight, the building felt like much less of a scare than it did last night. As you laid on Yeonjun’s chest, blankets piled high over your body for insulation, you almost felt at peace. Even the once ominous looking spray paint on the wall now made you chuckle as you read the curse words and artist tags that overlapped in a rainbow of colors. The movement stirred Yeonjun awake, his eyes blinking slowly until he finally adjusted to the daylight. 

“Hey,” he croaked, voice thick and full with a surprisingly restful night of sleep. “Feel up to a beer later? Celebrate our survival?”

You smacked his chest playfully out of reflex, silently reveling in just how easy this bet with Johnny had turned out to be. Your pile of protective blankets slipped down your back, exposing you to a rush of cold that made you frown. 

“How about we get going? I’m starving.” 

Yeonjun took no more convincing than that, fully motivated by the idea of food. It took almost no time at all to fold up all the blankets and make sure you hadn’t left anything behind. 

“Oh, the flashlight!” You stomped your way back over to the blackboard where you’d left it, feeling much bolder in the sunlight. You pocketed the flashlight easily, tucking it away in the jacket that used to belong to your father. As you straightened back up, you came face to face with the same board that had almost sent you straight home last night, only to see that there was nothing written on it. 

The blackboard stared back at you, totally blank. The cramped, messy words from yesterday night had completely vanished. Not even a trace of wiped off chalk stayed behind to suggest that Yeonjun may have erased the words without you noticing. A sick feeling washed over you, nervousness balling in the pit of your stomach until you felt like you could pass out. 

“Y/N?” Yeonjun called, whining as the blankets weighed him down and his stomach growled. His voice snapped you out of your stupor as you quickly turned, striding toward him in confident steps to assume him- and yourself- that everything was just fine. 

----

“Yeonjun,” you hissed, leaning across your desk to better catch his attention. He turned lazily, half asleep as a result of the 20 year old projector video. “Did you steal my pencil?” You accused, slightly annoyed that he would have the nerve to take one of the very few school supplies you still bothered to bring, even if just for show. His eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head. 

“No, why the hell would I take your pencil? I stopped taking notes in sophomore year. Are you sure you didn’t just drop it?” 

Violently, you shook your head. 

“I already looked, Jun! It’s gone! I literally just had it!” Anger bubbled in your chest as you abandoned all reserve. Yeonjun’s eyes went wide with concern as the teacher turned toward you and shushed loudly. 

You spent the rest of the day in an angered stupor, having to borrow a pencil from the nerdy kid who salivated over you every day in biology. It bothered you much more than it probably should have, but losing the pencil seemed to set off an odd emotion within you. You were many things, but you were never disorganized or forgetful. There was no way you simply lost the pencil. 

----

Senior year crawled by and your missed days of school stacked up quick. You and Yeonjun wasted the days away, sharing cigarettes and liquor bottles until the day was over. On one surprisingly nice winter afternoon, the two of you went for a walk. The route was innately familiar, as you’d been walking it since you were both young children. As you curbed the corner near Mrs. Berger’s house, Yeonjun stopped dead in his tracks. 

“Did you see that?” He asked, grasping at your forearm and making you slip a little on a patch of ice. 

“Did I see what?” 

“That- over there!” Yeonjun pointed toward a patch of bare trees laced with snow. There was nothing odd among them, but he was clearly convinced. “You don’t see that?” He hissed, an edge of fear in his voice that made you glance around for possible threat. 

“No, I don’t. Yeonjun, are you okay?” 

“Seriously, Y/N, now is not the time to fuck with me,” he pleaded, pulling on your arm harder. He was scared. 

“Yeonjun, let’s go, let’s just go back to your house, please, you’re scaring me-”

“SHIT, go go go!” Suddenly he yanked you into the snow covered yard to your right to avoid the slip of ice as the two of you sprinted, hand in hand, not stopping for a second until you reached his home. 

Chests heaving, you sunk to the floor with tears in your eyes. Yeonjun slumped into the couch, hand resting on his stomach as he tried to calm himself. 

“It was-” he gasped loudly, “a little boy. He was wearing like-like a fuckin’ school uniform? Just standing there like a- a little demon. And then he started to walk, and when I realized he was coming near us I just fucking panicked.”

If you weren’t already breathless, the words would have sucked the air right from your lungs. 

Don’t let him catch you.

----

You and Yeonjun had made a vow to never speak of that day again. Silently, you both had an inkling of what was going on, but neither of you wanted to admit it. Who would? 

Two days later, the two of you sat in the parking lot of a fast food joint, passing a cigarette back and forth. Neither of you had slept more than a few hours, and you were starting to feel it as the pull of another tension headache came to wreak havoc. Yeonjun said nothing as you closed your eyes for a few seconds, allowing yourself to succumb to a comforting darkness. The pain began to subside as you let yourself tire, the steady sound of Yeonjun’s breathing lulling you even further. 

Just as sleep began to invade the edges of your mind, a faint whisper sounded. You couldn’t quite make it out, so you just assumed maybe it was the way the wind whipped or your mind filling in some gaps. Just as you relaxed again, the whisper reignited, louder this time. You couldn’t make out the words, but the voice was childish and made your heart race. In a panic, you tried to open your eyes, but they wouldn’t budge. 

“Y/N, why won’t you play with me?” The voice asked. “You came to visit and then you just...left me.” Fear wracked your body the longer you fought against the voice. You knew that you hadn’t fallen asleep. This was not a dream. 

Suddenly, the face of a wide-eyed little boy crowded your vision. His eyes were piercing, upturned nose charming enough to distract you for half a second. But it didn’t take long to register the streaks of blood running from his hairline down to his chin, dripping off in thick drops. It was almost like you could feel them falling down, landing with a wet plop every time. A sick grin split his face, revealing a mouthful of blood just as dark and thick as the stuff running down his face. Your heart was hammering loudly, threatening to burst right out of your chest. Hot tears streamed down your face as you fought against whatever was ailing you. 

“Don’t you want to play?”

Suddenly, like coming up for air from underwater, you were back to reality. The sunlight burned your already sore eyes, washing out your vision so much that you almost didn’t see Yeonjun hovering over you as best as he could within the confines of the car. 

“Holy shit,” he gasped, gathering you into a tight hug as your body shook. “Did you have a nightmare?” He asked, wiping at the tears on your cheeks. 

“I-I wasn’t asleep,” you sobbed, grabbing at his arms desperately. “It was him,” you choked out, shuddering at the thought of that demonic little boy whispering to you. Yeonjun swallowed harshly, slumping back into his seat with a shake in his limbs. 

----

That night, you both skipped sleep. Yeonjun turned on all the lights in his bedroom and made sure that every single door to the outside was locked before you laid down together. On the small screened television a late night program played nonsense that provided welcome white noise. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t forget the image of the little boy dripping with blood. How he called you by your name and implored you to play. 

“I think it’s the same,” Yeonjun finally said. 

“The same?”

“Yeah, the same...the same kid. The one I saw outside, the one you saw. I think it’s the boy who-”

“Please don’t even say it,” you whined, burying your face into his shoulder. Deep down, you knew exactly what he meant. It was a million times scarier to hear it out loud. 

The sound of the talk show host suddenly quieted, television shut off suddenly with a crackle of light. 

“What the fuck,” Yeonjun groaned, getting up to check the outlet he had the unit plugged into. The plug was still secure in the outlet, giving no answer to the sudden end of your background noise. “Maybe the cable went out,” he suggested, dropping the subject as quickly as he began it. He wasn’t much for late night television anyway. On a normal night, he would have tried to make idle chit chat, or maybe even bite a few bruises into the column of your neck; but today he simply laid next to you and played with your hair. 

In what first seemed like a stroke of luck, the television set roared back to life. Both of you sat up in alarm, confused at the sudden change, but you had almost no time to ponder it as the rest of the lights in the room cut, plunging you into a sick darkness. Immediately you cried out, indescribable anxiety crawling up your throat and leaving you speechless. Yeonjun tensed, selflessly guarding your body with his as the television flickered static patterns at you. A high pitched whine emitted from the speakers, prompting you to search the sheets for the remote until the sound stalled. 

With all other sources of light drained, the television seemed to glow as bright as a full moon as scrolls of distorted text began to roll across the screen. They were a bit hard to make out, pixelated and cramped at first, but soon became clear as day in their full form:

YEonJuN, Y/n

WhY wON’t you PLAy WiTH ME? 

YOU CaMe tO visiT mE, BuT yOu DIDN’t StaY. 

I aM LOnEly. 

i KILled aLl OF mY FriENDS.  

Too stunned to react, you simply clutched onto Yeonjun’s shirt for dear life and squeezed your eyes shut in hopes this really all was some awful dream. 

“Holy shit, Y/N, Y/N!” Yeonjun yelled, forcing your eyes open just to witness the sight of the same horrificaly thick and deep red blood you’d seen earlier begin seeping from the top of Yeonjun’s bedroom walls. Everywhere you looked, streams of blood stained his walls red, ruining the collection of poster you’d memorized. The room smelled so strongly of iron that it made you gag, the threat of puking right at the back of your tongue. The television began whining again, high and shrieking until morphing into the sickly sweet voice of a young boy. 

“Don’t you want to play? I promise I’m nice.” 

Upon recieving nothing for a response from either of you, the voice let out a sigh. 

“Fine. I guess I’ll just have to force you to play with me.” 

The television fizzled out again, plunging the room into temporary darkness as both you and Yeonjun shake with fear. As if nothing had even happened, the lights resumed their warm yellowy glow, exposing completely clean walls. 

----

“You two look like shit,” Johnny laughed, picking at the soggy tater tots on his plastic lunch tray. He had recently dyed his hair a deep black, and the dye was still staining the sides of his neck and his hands. “On a bender?” 

Yeonjun gave a noncommittal laugh, eyes downcast as you shrugged loosely. 

“Jesus, some bad cocaine? Did you buy from Taehyung? I told you he’s the worst to-”

“Stop, please,” you groaned, a tension headache permeating from the base of your neck to the top of your head. “You wouldn’t even believe us if we told you.” 

“Try me. I’ve gotten blow from all of Bangtan, they aren’t the most trustworthy all the time, especially that Namjoon guy. He charms you into thinking it’s good and then-”

“We did not buy blow from Bangtan!” Yeonjun exploded, drawing the attention of a few passersby. 

“Oh.” Johnny blinked, shocked by his best friend’s sudden loss of temper. “What’s wrong?”

“Grave Academy,” you mumbled, laying your head on the cold tabletop as Yeonjun rested a steady hand on your back. 

“Huh? You were there months ago.” 

“Yeah, that’s the issue. We were there months ago and we’re both still,” Yeonjun paused, unsure of what to even say. “We’re still getting haunted.” 

“You what?” The hurried scrape of his chair had you looking up again just as he crossed the distance until he was right next to Yeonjun. “My cousin...he- he had the same thing happen.” A sudden edge of sadness overtook his voice and your eyes widened. 

“Really? D’you think this happens to everyone?” Desperation spilled out alongside your words although you tried to stop it. 

“I think...I think that I’m definitely fucking with you.” Johnny laughed, standing back up to his full height as both you and Yeonjun deflated. “My cousin is literally insane. Always has been. So it was no surprise to us when he started ‘seeing ghosts’ and finally got himself carted away.” 

“Fuck you, Johnny.” Yeonjun snorted, pulling you up with him as he left the lunch room in a hurry and waltzed straight out of the school. 

----

“What do we do?” Yeonjun’s eyes were bloodshot, for once a side effect of nothing but lack of sleep. 

“We can run.” You suggested weakly, picking at a loose thread on your sweatshirt. “If we stay here we’ll either get send to the looney bin or murdered. And no one will miss us here, anyway.” Yeonjun knew you were right, but the thought plagued him still. Would running away even help? 

“I guess you have a point.” He surmised, glancing around the home that he had come to run basically on his own. Since the death of his mother, his dad had been reckless and absent, only sending enough money for basics in a manila envelope every few months. If he left, the house would be reclaimed by the town and no one would be any wiser to why the two of you left. Just your run of the mill high school dropouts. 

“I’d rather run away with you than die here.” You added, shrugging again as you imagined some kind of perfectly twisted life traveling the country with Yeonjun, living day to day. “Maybe you can finally start that band and I can be your groupie,” you joked, running your hands through his greasy locks and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll start packing a bag.” 

The next morning, you and Yeonjun said what little goodbyes you had to make. You visited Johnny, telling him an abbreviated lie about a cross-country trip that he bought well enough. If he suspected anything when Yeonjun hugged him for longer than he had in their entire friendship, he didn’t say much. 

The two of you made a stop at the cemetery, bidding farewell to your respective parents, before climbing back into his old Chevy. It was kind of hard to believe that all of your belongings fit snugly into his trunk, but it made escaping that much easier in the end. 

The town you’d grown up in disappeared in the rearview mirror, and as you held Yeonjun’s hand tightly between your own, you hoped that your misfortune would disappear too. 

You would never tell Yeonjun, but even as you drove miles and miles away from Grave Academy, you could still hear the little boy whispering every time you closed your eyes. 

[chronictonsillitis]

no pain so exquisite as to be bound (to you)

“Gon nau,” the officiant says, slipping her hand into the man’s. From now—

Their skin is hot against each other's, palms sweaty as their fingers lace together.

“Tu ste glong raun kom won.” Two are joined as one. 

Clarke swallows hard, and looks up. Two pairs of eyes widen simultaneously, two sets of hackles instantly rising.

**** Forced to stand alone by the departure of her sort-of almost co-leader, Clarke does her damndest to hold the Dropship camp together. The thanks she gets when the Ark comes down? Her camp shuttered and her authority stripped. For her people, she agrees to marry a stranger, dashing any hope of finding her soulmate. Clarke is told nothing of her Grounder betrothed; yet the man waiting at the altar she knows all too well. In exchange for keeping his identity secret, an agreement is made, and the clock starts counting down: to the arrival of her soulmark, and the dissolution of this sham marriage.

Written for The t100 Fic for BLM Initiative Donation Celebration with beautiful artwork by Bri ( @underbellamy​)! The Initiative is still accepting prompts and going strong, hitting $4000 in donations as of this week!

Chapter 1/?

(Ao3) or

She probably should’ve expected something like this.

After all, if her mom had been willing to send her down to Earth with the rest of them for the sake of the Ark, why would she balk at a simple marriage?

And of course Clarke goes along with it, because if not her, then who? Wells is dead, Bellamy is long gone; there’s no one else of the right age visible enough, no one else important enough to the Council to be a worthy prize for the Grounders.

Clarke scoffs internally. A worthy hostage is more like it.

The irony of it is not lost on her. She was forced into leadership by the actions of the Council, sending her to the ground, and forced to stand alone in charge of the delinquents by the unceremonious departure of her sort-of, almost co-leader. It was her who faced down the Trikru leader, her who held the Dropship camp together as they were besieged, and her who ultimately negotiated for peace.

And what was the thanks she got when the Ark came down? Her camp shuttered, her authority stripped, her role limited to a purely honorary seat on the Council with no real power, an empty concession as a reward for all her hard work. She’s spent the last year more or less stagnant, being spoken over in meetings and condescended to by people who kept her around purely because the Trikru representatives refuse to speak to anyone else. She wonders how they’ll deal with that particular problem now that they’ve shipped her off to Trishanakru.

Clarke expected to feel relief when she wasn’t in charge anymore, but instead she’s felt useless, like a child who’s long outgrown the kid’s table. Useless and flat.

Still, she didn’t expect her return to usefulness to be as a bargaining chip.

“You understand what you’re asking me to give up?” Clarke asks her mother behind closed doors after the offer of marriage is first put forth. “The home I’ve made, the relationships I’ve built?”

Abby wrings her hands, eyes full of guilt. “It’s not forever, you’ll be able to come back. To visit, at least.”

Clarke laughs harshly. “It is forever, that’s the point!” She paces back and forth, her heart clenching almost painfully. “It’s not a job, Mom, it’s a marriage. I’ll be one of them, bound to one of them, for life. I’ll never get a chance—” She breaks off, stopping facing the wall. “I’ll never have the opportunity to have what you and dad had. I’ll never get to have a true partner.”

She’s still too young to have her mark, just a hair past nineteen. They say it happens when you turn twenty, but that’s just an estimate. She’s likely got nine months or so until it starts to form, the lines beginning to weave their way across the skin below her collarbones in bits and pieces, slowly darkening until it’s all there, her own unique pattern branded black into her flesh.

An outward marker of genetic compatibility, her mom had called it during Clarke’s medical training, but Clarke prefers the traditional term: soulmark.

Matches on the Ark were not universal, but they were common enough. Her parents had been matched, and it had been easy for Clarke even as a child to see the difference between their relationship and that of the non-matched couples. There was a reason nobody took relationships seriously until they both were marked.

“I know that, honey,” Abby says, her voice soft. Clarke hates it, hates when she combines politics with acting like her mom. Abby puts her hand on Clarke’s arm, her touch innately comforting in a way that is wholly unfair given the situation. “But with Wells gone…”

Her words trail off, but the implication is clear. Abby thinks Clarke won’t match anyways. She thinks her daughter’s intended match is lying dead in a grave beside the dropship, buried beneath six feet of dirt, so what is she really being asked to give up? Only a dream, only a fairytale. Nothing of substance.

Clarke isn’t so sure.

She loved Wells, she still does, but it was never— like that, for them. She knows growing up everyone expected them to match, the prince and princess of the Ark, and maybe when she was little she believed it. But when he died it was her best friend that she grieved, not her soulmate.

And maybe she’s being foolish and romantic, but she still has hope. She thinks her match is out there somewhere, still breathing. But if she accepts this deal, this marriage, that hope is dead.

Clarke remembers the girls at the dropship camp tittering beside the fire, speculating about their marks and their matches. She remembers the way Octavia stared intently at Lincoln’s soulmark, memorizing it, confident in three years she’d be marked with its twin. She remembers tracing a pattern across Finn’s skin in the bunker, imagining he could be hers.

None of the delinquents were old enough to have a mark, save Bellamy of course. Raven’s started blooming a few weeks in, but Bellamy’s soulmark was fully fledged well before they came down, winding black and proud across his chest as he strutted about the camp shirtless. From his prolific activities with the camp girls, Clarke assumes he didn’t have a match that he knew of. On the Ark, at least, it was unheard of to have a matching soulmark and not act on it. To be given a gift like that and to turn it away— no one is that stupid.

Then again, it’s Bellamy, so who knows.

He was stupid enough to leave his sister, stupid enough to leave Clarke to fend for herself as leader of a bunch of kids barely younger than herself, with nothing but a half-hearted shooting lesson and a suggestion to keep Miller close. And yeah, she’d survived, but it would have been a hell of a lot easier with a partner.

“If we had any other options, Clarke,” Abby begs. “I wouldn’t ask. But we need this alliance. Without Trishanakru, Azgeda will wipe us out before the end of the summer.”

Clarke stiffens, her nose pointing upwards, because she knows this. Of course she knows this. She’s been in every goddamn Council meeting, even if nobody had bothered to listen to what she had to say. Maybe if they had, they wouldn’t be in this position.

But they didn’t, and now they don’t. It’s this or nothing.

So fine. If this is all she can do for her people, she’ll do it. She’ll give up her family, give up her friends, give up her chance to be with her soulmate even before her mark begins to darken on her skin.

It’s better that way, her Trishanakru attendants say as they bathe her in milk and drape her in silk, prettying her up like a lamb for slaughter. Better not to know, so she can go into the marriage free of tethers, unbound by her own expectations. Clean of skin and pure of heart, they say.

“And what of my husband-to-be?” Clarke asks dryly. “Is he still unmarked?”

The question is only half sarcasm, the other half genuine curiosity. She knows nothing of the man she is to marry except his status amongst the clan: second to the Chief, a warrior. In negotiations they never mentioned his name, temperament, age, nothing. He could be an old man for all Clarke knows; even a child, if Trishanakru shares the same customs as Trikru.

The woman braiding her hair purses her lips, not meeting Clarke’s eyes. “No,” she admits. “But he will show you the same respect you show him. He has not found his match, and after today, he will have no match but you.”

How romantic, Clarke thinks, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

She has no pretensions about this marriage. She does not expect love, nor even happiness. All she expects is the treaty with Skaikru to be honored. If that happens, it will be enough.

She stands still as they drape her with beads and gems, lace strings of pearls into her hair. Absentmindedly, she wonders where exactly all the jewelry came from. Maybe an old museum, or a jewelry store.

They pat around her eyes with oil, pressing gold leaf to it so it peels off on her skin. Her dress is long and heavy, layers of fabrics darned with intricate embroidery. She almost laughs, thinking of what everyone back in Arkadia would say. She imagines the Princess jokes would come on pretty strong.

For all the bangles they slide up her arms, all the jewels the hang from her ears, her ankles, her hips, her hair, they put no necklaces on her. It’s confusing, at least until it isn’t.

Clarke balks at the monstrosity they pull out, because it’s a collar.

There’s no better word for it really. Not a collar like a dog would wear, not a thin strip of leather, no: this is a bridle, a harness, an anchor. It’s gold and bejeweled and if Clarke wasn’t the one wearing it she’d call it beautiful, but she is.

It’s thick and heavy, settling on her shoulders like a weight, making them sag. It covers her chest from the hollow of her throat to the middle of her sternum, covers her shoulders from clavicle to acromion.

It’s choking her.

It clasps behind her back with some complicated mechanism she cannot see, and Clarke thinks she spots one of the attendants pocket a key. Her throat goes dry, hands fighting the urge to scrabble at her throat.

“What is this?” Her voice is shaky, her anxiety leaching into her tone.

Her attendants are polite enough to ignore it, reaching out to adjust her hair so it falls over the hammered metal, gold on gold. “It is traditional in weddings like this. To cover your mark.” The woman hums, her finger tracing over the jewels, a wistful look on her face. “They are normally leather. You must be very important to the clan.”

Oh joy, Clarke thinks.

“I don’t have a mark yet,” she grits. “Why do I have to wear it?”

“But you will. It’s tradition, but besides, it’ll be easier for you to start now. So there’s no temptation.”

Clarke isn’t sure what kind of fucked up weird conservatism she’s marrying into, but she’s not thrilled. “When can I take it off?” Her attendants go quiet, their eyes not meeting hers. “Hello?”

The youngest one, a kind looking girl who’d smiled when Clarke had asked her name, gives her an apologetic look. “You can’t. The key will go to your husband, as a sign of your trust.” She shrugs. “You will get used to it.”

Clarke highly doubts that, but she also doubts that these women have any say in whether she stays permanently collared.

It’s moments like these she thinks she probably should have insisted on meeting her husband before the day of the wedding, or insisted on having some of her own people here with her to advocate on her behalf. Besides the inherent powerlessness of this marriage, she didn’t expect to actually be locked into anything.

Not physically at least.

The last piece of her outfit that they add is a gold beaded vail, hanging over her face and eyes like a curtain. She joked about being lamb for slaughter, but seriously. The collar, the blinders: she feels like livestock.

Clarke frowns. She will put up with the indignity for her people, of course she will, but fuck if she can’t show her displeasure.

The first part of the wedding is small, intimate, and Clarke is grateful. The nice attendant tells her it will last a half hour, in which her husband-to-be and her will be bound temporarily. After that, they will have time to meet privately.

By the downcast eyes of the attendant, Clarke thinks that this is a polite way of saying he will have time to sample the goods before committing to her permanently. Her skin crawls at the thought. She knew there was likely to be some sort of required consummation, but she’s sort of blocked it out. She hasn’t had sex since Finn, hasn’t had any sort of romantic or sexual interactions in the interim. She hasn’t wanted to.

She’s both embarrassed by her inexperience and furious at herself for being anything other than angry.

They lead her into the ceremonial hall, an open room with a vaulted ceiling. Light shines in through broken stained glass windows, and she thinks maybe, before the bombs, this used to be a church. Fitting, she supposes.

She’s directed to a cushion at the end of the room, in front of some sort of altar. She sweeps the silks away from her ankles and kneels, sitting back on her bare feet.

Clarke would think someone would tell her husband-to-be she’s already there, or that this was to be a formal event, but nevertheless she can hear him arguing with someone as he approaches the door. Her attendants stand at her back, waiting calmly.

“—ridiculous for them to just expect I would have no problem with it,” a man says, his rasp deep in a familiar way that she cannot seem to place. “I have duties to the clan, to you, and your ambassadors just expect me to drop everything and marry a stranger, just because she’s related to some backwoods Seya. Is she supposed to come with me into battle?”

Another man speaks softly in response, his voice low enough it doesn’t quite reach Clarke’s ears.

“Why should it matter to me whether she’s marked or not? If she’s not a warrior I have no use for her. What am I supposed to do with some— some spoiled child bride?”

His last hiss echoes through the room as he enters, striking her like a slap to the face.

Clarke bristles, her teeth clenching, and lifts her shoulders. She doesn’t want to be in this marriage either, thank you very much, especially not to a man who’s clearly too arrogant to see past his own nose.

She’s not a warrior, fine, but she fights in different ways. She’s a politician, and a healer, and a strategist. Clarke is useful, and not just as some diplomatic trophy.

The reply is too quiet for her to hear, but she’s sure it wouldn’t calm her down.

Her intended apologizes to her attendants, and Clarke hears them shuffle to the side, letting him past. She’s not sure why he bothers, clearly he has no care for propriety. He drops unceremoniously to his knees beside her without a glance in her direction, the man to whom he was speaking coming around to stand in front of them. The officiant, she guesses.

Clarke keeps her gaze straight ahead, glaring at the paneled wall in front of her.

The ceremony is conducted wholly in Trig, the words unfamiliar and spoken so quickly Clarke misses most of the actual content. She’s okay at Trig, but with her unofficial house arrest leaving only Lincoln to practice with, she’s still far from fluent, and none of this is anything she would have even thought to learn.

At some point she’s directed to raise her right hand, and the man beside her his left. The officiant continues, “—ogeda. Nomfa kom Trishanakru, Seken kom Seya, yu na teik dis?”

The bone of her wrist brushes against his skin. The contact is disconcerting, and her eyes flicker involuntarily to the man’s hand.

His skin is tan, several shades darker than her own, his hand broad. His nails are short but clean, and she wonders if he too had to take a milk bath before this.

“Sha,” he says, his voice a low rumble, and the officiant hands him one end of a red ribbon, wrapping it once around his wrist. Clarke shivers.

Probably not.

Her eyes come back up as she realizes the officiant is speaking directly to her now, his words slow and careful. He gives her a serious look, something almost fatherly, his eyebrows pulling together. “Nomfri kom Skaikru,” he asks. Daughter of Skaikru. “Yu na teik dis?” Will you allow this?

In the corner of her eye, she sees the man at her side stiffen, his spine snapping straight, but she doesn’t have time to puzzle through that. She meets the officiant’s eyes with a resolute stare, and nods. “Yes.”

His lips curl into a half grin, as though he is proud of her answer, and he loops the ribbon around her wrist, placing the end softly into her hand. Clarke closes her fist around it.

The officiant bids them to stand, and they do, rising as one to their feet, wrists bound between them. The officiant takes both their unbound hands and gestures for them to face one another.

Clarke closes her eyes and opens them again, releasing a steadying breath through her nose. She forces her feet to turn, keeping her gaze pointed downward. She will not let this man see doubt in her eyes, won’t let him catch a hint of fear.

“Gon nau,” the officiant says, slipping her hand into the man’s.

From now—

Their skin is hot against each other's, palms sweaty as their fingers lace together.

“Tu ste glong raun kom won.”

Two are joined as one.

Clarke swallows hard, and looks up. Two pairs of eyes widen simultaneously, two sets of hackles instantly rising.

Because even though her husband is a stranger, she knows his eyes: deep brown staring out now from unfamiliar charcoal black; the same way she knows the curl of his hair, the line of his shoulders, the pattern that lies beneath the paint on his chest.

She knows these things the same way he knows the slope of her nose, the curve of her breasts, the mark above her lip, the weight of her body clinging to his.

Clarke’s heart races.

Bellamy.

[dreamingabouthendery]

Soarin’ (m)

pairing: jaemin x reader

au: disneyland worker!jaemin and reader

genre: fluff, smut

word count: 6.4k

warnings: smut, swearing, mentions of drugs (you’ll see), descriptions of sick? slight tainting of childhood (not enough to scar), controversial opinions (but not literally), unfunny humour

specific smut warnings (in case you dont want spoilers): fingering, blowjob, unprotected sex (but assume character is on the pill), semi-public sex?

summary: You have worked at Disneyland since the first year of uni, which has all but destroyed your ideals of magic. But when a new boy becomes the Mickey to your Minnie, you can’t help but find yourself intrigued by the bright-eyed newbie. Maybe Disneyland is magic, afterall. (this sucks im so sorry)

very, very heavily inspired by this thread on reddit. also, i hope you enjoy! any feedback will be much appreciated (this is my first fic as im sure youll be able to tell)

Ah, Disneyland, ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’. If you’re a child, that is. Not only can you meet your favorite characters who are probably doing lines in the back between rounds, but you have the honour of being able to watch them dangle helplessly from a wire during the firework display and narrowly avoid death. It’s no wonder you’ve been working there since your first year of uni.

‘Johnny told me there’s a new Mickey coming today.’ Eva, Princess Tiana and, quite frankly, the only decent princess in the whole park, says. She’s currently struggling to pull the long, white gloves over her own blue plastic pair of gloves she puts on for ‘safety reasons’ - her words, not yours. Though, it’s not like you can blame her when the outfits only get washed...well, never.

The two of you are currently the only two in the spacious dressing room which is permanently accompanied by the stench of sweat clinging to the walls, especially since it’s summer.

‘Oh, really?’ You ask from in front of her on the worn wooden bench, pulling your clunky yellow shoes on that dwarf your feet in their enormous size. It took you months to be able to walk in them without constantly tripping. Thankfully, it seems they at least got a wash after being puked on a few days ago.

She nods, moving towards the vanity and smoothing down a stray hair. ‘I know, it didn't take them long. Poor Jeremy, though.’

You hum in agreement. Jeremy ran into some trouble whilst covering a shift for the Donald Duck regular, resulting in a few broken ribs, a black eye and a dislocated shoulder. Or so the NDA requires you to say, anyway. Needless to say he quit on the spot.

‘____?’ You turn and see Johnny, your manager, making his way over to you with a cute guy in tow. ‘This is Jaemin. Jaemin, this is ____. He’s the new weekend Mickey regular. I need you to show him around Toontown discreetly,’ He gives you a pointed look to remind you that your characters aren’t supposed to talk. ‘And then you can camp out in Mickey’s House until the attractions close.’

You smile at Jaemin and he smiles back sheepishly as Johnny walks away without another word. Jaemin has arguably the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen, accompanied by the prettiest lips and the prettiest - is that too many ‘pretty’s? -  twinkling eyes and you can wholeheartedly say you have no problem showing him around ‘discreetly’.

‘Hi, Jaemin.’ You say, suddenly aware of your current state of half-dress with your suit still unzipped and bunched around your waist. You catch him glancing at your exposed top-half and quickly zip up the back before clearing your throat and gesturing towards the locker opposite yours. ‘Mickey’s suit is usually kept in there.’

‘Uh, thanks.’ He turns quickly before looking back at you, clearly not wanting to ask you to leave but not wanting to change in front of you.

‘Meet you outside?’ You take the hint and stand up, grabbing Minnie’s head and placing it over your own.

He nods gratefully and you leave.

‘You’ll have to get used to that, you know.’ You say quietly as he joins you. For a late Saturday afternoon in the summer, the park isn’t as busy as usual; only the occasional family loiters in Toontown, though in the distance you can see the beginnings of a crowd forming in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle in preparation for the fireworks as the sun begins to set.

‘Used to what?’

‘To seeing other cast members undressed and to them seeing you undressed.’ You say simply, waving to a child with a short brown bob and bucket hat that’s walking towards you as you head slowly from the staff area towards Goofy’s Playhouse. The child stops and asks both of you for your autographs, something that every Disney cast member has to perfect before they get to wear their suit.

‘Right,’ He mutters when she leaves. ‘What happened to the guy before me?’

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, momentarily forgetting you can’t see his face. ‘What’ve you heard?’

‘Nothing, why?’

You sigh. ‘He was jumped by some asshole teenagers. You don’t need to worry, though,’ You add quickly at his sharp intake of breath. ‘You aren’t dressed as Donald Duck so you should be fine.’ You joke.

He laughs slightly at that. ‘Who thought dressing up as a kids’ character could be so dangerous?’

‘Oh, you have no idea.’ You laugh, a little too loudly, drawing more attention to yourself than usual but automatically correct your pitch to match Minnie Mouse’s. You wave at the kids that turn to look at you and they hurry over, asking to take pictures. After they run back to their parents, you turn to Jaemin and ask, ‘So, why did you apply for the job?’

‘Wow, it’s like a second interview.’ You shake your head, mumbling a quick apology. ‘I’ve never actually been to Disneyland before, and you know,’ He gestures his hand aimlessly. ‘This is supposed to be The Most Magical Place on Earth’ - he quotes - ‘so, I guess I wanted to experience the magic firsthand.’

‘That’s Magic Kingdom.’ You correct automatically.

‘Huh?’

‘That’s Magic Kingdom’s motto. Ours is ‘The Happiest Place on Earth’.’

‘Huh. I guess there is a difference, then.’

‘Of course there’s a difference. Magic Kingdom isn’t nearly as good as Disneyland.’ You say simply.

Jaemin snorts. ‘I’m sorry I offended you.’

‘Anyway,’ You say, ‘If you’re looking for a magical experience, you’re coming at it from the wrong angle.’

‘Exactly how bad is it to work here?’ He questions, though you can hear a hint of amusement in his tone.

‘The best I can give you is unforgettable.’ You would explain to him the number of times you’ve caught both members of the public and workers having sex in various places including on various rides, and how Haunted Mansion is notorious for having people leave their loved one’s ashes in it despite the fact they just get vaccumed up, but it’s only his first day and you don’t want to scare him off.

‘Gotcha.’ He merely says and you continue on to show him the Chip ‘n’ Dale Treehouse, your favorite place in Toontown. At night, the treehouse is lit in such a way as to make it whimsical, the ragged branches no longer menacing as they are during the daytime. You can’t complain at the fact that it’s quiet due to the fact that most people overlook it, either, instead mistaking it as decoration and not an actual attraction that you can go in.

This makes it the perfect place to hide out in the nighttime, when people are busy with the most popular attractions and has made it sort of an escape to you. Well, that and it’s given you a bad back.

You pause in front of Mickey’s House. ‘This is your crib,’ you joke. ‘Are you ready for your first official shift?’ You say, feigning drama in your tone.

‘Oh, gee, Minnie, I sure am!’ He replies in Mickey’s tone, emulating it perfectly and making both of you crack up.

‘I have to warn you, though, expect your arm to go dead within the first few minutes from all the waving.’

‘Noted. This job isn’t going to give me carpal tunnel syndrome, is it?’ He asks, only half serious.

‘No, but it may make you hate kids.’

He chokes, but before he can say anything in reply, a small boy who looks about four illustrates your point by pulling down his denim shorts and taking a dump right on the tarmac next to the hideous grey mouse-shaped letterbox.

You can read Jaemin’s horror in his speechlessness as you merely sigh and pull out your radio to call in, ‘We have a code Pooh outside Mickey’s House, over.’

As you walk in your front door to your shared apartment with your roommate, Ailee, you catch her and her boyfriend, Sam, making out on the couch in the living room. You two met in the first week of uni when you both ended up at some frat party that you hated and hit it off.

‘Ew, gross, guys. You have a bedroom, you know.’ You say, throwing your bag on the coffee table and slumping down on the couch next to them, sinking into the plush white cushions.

Ailee merely throws her head back and laughs before saying, ‘Tell me all about it.’

You frown. ‘About what?’

She tuts at you impatiently. ‘Work, duh. Everyday you come home it’s been a bad day,’ She plays with a few strands of your hair comfortingly. ‘So, tell me about it.’

You scrunch your nose up. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary happened.’ You say simply, looking at your nails.

Sam laughs. ‘Even I know you look at your nails when you’re lying, ____.’

Your mouth falls open in shock, offended. ‘I do not.’ You insist and scowl internally.

‘You do,’ Ailee agrees. ‘But it’s okay, that doesn’t matter right now. What’s the juicy story for today?’

You roll your eyes. ‘I’m glad my misery is so entertaining. The only thing that’s different is that there’s a new weekend Mickey regular.’

Ailee and Sam share a pointed look. ‘And?’ She asks, drawing out the syllable.

‘And he’s cute. I guess.’ You add as an afterthought.

Ailee snorts. ‘You guess?’

You groan. ‘Okay, he’s cute, period.’ You concede.

‘So, ask him out.’

‘Can’t. It’s against the rules.’ You mumble.

She gives you an exasperated look. ‘____, sweetie, you’re the most lax person with a job still in the whole park. What’s one date to you that nobody knows about?’

You bite your lip. She does have a point. You think about how cute Jaemin was when he was nervous to greet the kids at the House and hide your grin.

‘She’d have to actually see him again, though, right?’ Sam interjects, interrupting your daydream.

‘Sam, don’t be such a Debby downer.’ Ailee whines.

Whilst it’s true that cast members in a couple usually split up, you doubt they would make Jaemin do his second shift on his own. Resolving to pluck up the courage to ask him out, you go to bed that night apprehensive about the following day.

Apparently God is punishing you for some unknown reason, because you don’t see Jaemin at all that day, or the week after. In fact, you don’t even catch a glimpse of him or the big round ears that are telling of Mickey’s character.

Eve informs you that Johnny teamed him up with Goofy for ‘variety’, meanwhile you’re being sent over to Soarin’ in Grizzly Peak, the most boring area in the whole park due to its unpopularity. You can’t help but worry slightly about Jaemin, though, thinking of the previous time you saw Daniel, Goofy’s actor, when he pulled a flask from seemingly nowhere inside his costume and took a long, deep drink before heading back out, slightly stumbling.

Before you step out, Bella, the girl who plays Cinderella (no, the irony is not lost on you), stops you and says, ‘Oh, ____, I heard the new Mickey Mouse arrived yesterday. Fingers crossed you don’t scare him into quitting, too.’ Ever since you auditioned for the part of Cinderella and lost it to her, Bella has taken to rubbing your inferiority in your face every chance she gets.

You roll your eyes and Eve says back, ‘Oh, fuck off, Bella,’ She turns to you. ‘She’s just jealous ‘cause she thinks he’s cute and he hasn’t even acknowledged her yet.’

You snort as Bella narrows her eyes and stomps away as best she can in her flimsy costume heels.

‘He was asking after you when he came in earlier, you know.’ Eve says.

‘Jaemin was?’

She hums before saying, ‘He looked so disappointed to be paired up with Goofy.’

You feel the blood rushing to your face as you smile. ‘Really?’

Eve looks at you knowingly. ‘Yep, said he wanted to thank you for being so understanding yesterday since no one wants to babysit the newbee.’

‘I’d happily babysit the newbee anytime if they looked like that.’ You say and Eve laughs.

Whilst you’re at the most boring attraction in the park, the day is still no less than eventful. You encounter a child stuck in a tree trying to skip the line for Anna and Elsa’s Royal Welcome on your way to the bathroom due to the nearest one being blocked off. After you manage to actually use the bathroom, you’re surprised to see Elsa herself there, half-dressed at the sink and you can’t help but wonder if that’s the reason the line is so long. To top it all off, one of the only times you manage to fill the ride at Soarin’, you notice a couple getting on while holding a backpack that’s moving and alert the ride operators. When they finally report back to you that there was a six-month-old baby in there, they have to convince you not to ring child protective services.

After you slam your locker closed in the deserted dressing room, you sink down on the rigid bench, putting your head in your hands and massaging your growing headache.

‘____,’ A voice starts and you jump, looking up to see Johnny standing above you, clipboard in hand. He barely gives you a second glance when he startles you, instead pretending not to notice and continuing, ‘I need you next Friday for a grad night.’

You groan. Grad nights are the worst events Disneyland continuously puts on, in the past coming second only to Nights of Joy, the annual Christian festival, before it was cancelled for good. Even the managers rejoiced in the abolition of Nights of Joy. ‘Can’t you find someone else to be Minnie? Everyone knows how bad grad nights are.’

Johnny sighs. ‘Fine, then. I’ll put you on watching the cameras for Star Tours with Jaemin.’

You ignore the way you want to immediately jump on the chance for some one-on-one time with Jaemin and raise an eyebrow. ‘Aren’t you not supposed to do that? You know, because he’s new and I’m not trained in…’ You trail off at the glare he’s giving you and purse your lips, nodding your head in acceptance.

‘Great, thanks.’ He says sarcastically and walks out.

At least the next time you return to Hell on Earth it won’t be in a Minnie costume.

You feel strange as you unlock and push open the door to the CCTV monitor room. If you had to put money on it, you would say it’s because this isn’t your job and you technically shouldn’t be here, but you’re not much of a gambler.

The heavy metal door gives way, opening to a small room with roughly fifty monitors, each displaying the Star Tours ride, the attraction itself as a whole and the surrounding area. You note the odd statue opposite the entrance that you don’t remember the name of - the satellites surrounding a distinct shape that is rocket-like. You shake your head internally at the sight. Why are the only pretty decorations reserved for Fantasyland?

You also note the dim red lighting and frown in confusion as your eyes land on Jaemin, sitting in an office chair in front of the wall of screens, wearing the same uniform consisting of a pale blue shirt and black trousers as you, except wearing it a hundred times better.

He turns upon your entrance, smiling as he takes in your attire. ‘I thought I’d set the mood with some lighting.’ He grins cheekily.

‘Oh?’ You say, stepping into the room, locking the door behind you. ‘What mood is that exactly?’

His smile grows wider as he says, ‘Adventure. We’re in for a night, so I hear.’

You groan, ‘You’ll wish you never agreed to doing this.’ You make your way to the chair next to his, sitting down on the flat cushion and leaning back.

‘How bad can it really be? These are literally a bunch of eighteen-year-olds who aren’t of legal drinking age yet and they’re supervised.’

You shook your head in mock sympathy. ‘Sweet, sweet, naive boy,’ You say. ‘Now you’ve jinxed it.’ You eye his coffee cup and wrinkle your nose in distaste at the black liquid. It looks like you’re staring into the pits of Hell. ‘What is that atrocity?’

He follows your gaze and laughs. ‘It’s coffee. Wanna try some?’ He maintains eye contact as he takes a sip and then offers it to you.

‘God, no. I have self-respect.’

He places it back down next to an intimidating set of controls, a hint of amusement in his eyes. ‘Also, I wanted to say thank you for the other week. For showing me around and stuff.’ He looks down shyly.

‘Oh, it’s, um, no problem. How have you been coping?’ You ask slightly awkwardly, not knowing what to do at his sudden personality flip-flop.

‘It’s a lot harder than I imagined it to be, honestly. I thought the worst that could happen would be screaming children and impatient parents.’ He admits.

You nod. ‘I thought the same when I first started last year. Little did I know the Karens were the least of my problems.’

He laughs breathily. ‘Tell me about it. I don’t know how you’ve managed to last so long.’

You shrug, embarrassed. ‘I just like making the kids’ day I guess.’

He coos and you push him lightly, smiling. ‘Why don’t we play a game?’ He asks, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You narrow your own eyes. ‘What kind of game?’

‘Hmm,’ He pretends to think, tapping his chin. ‘How about twenty-one questions?’

‘Okay,’ You say slowly. ‘What are our rules going to be?’

He smirks. ‘You only get one get-out-of-jail card. And if you use it, you have to do what the other person says.’

You sigh. ‘Fine. Then, follow-up questions to your answers don’t count.’

‘Deal. I’ll go first,’ At your mildly worried look, he says, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you. What are you studying in uni?’

‘Business and management.’ You say instantly, and he looks intrigued. ‘It was either that or English lit, and my parents weren’t too keen on me studying that.’

He frowns. ‘Why not?’

You avoid eye contact as you answer. ‘They’re both doctors,’ You clear your throat. ‘Are you in uni?’ You love your parents with all your heart but sometimes you wish they would just be happy with you being happy.

He takes the hint and moves on. ‘Yeah, I’m actually doing photography.’ He says, scratching the back of his neck.

Your head perks up. ‘Really? That’s so cool. My roommate is studying photography, too. Is that what you want to do after you graduate?’

His face relaxes. ‘I’m not really sure, to be honest. I just know it’s something I’m passionate about, you know?’ At your nod of encouragement, he continues, ‘There’s just something so amazing about capturing a moment forever in a way that really brings out its true beauty.’

You give him a small smile. ‘That sounds really special.’

He shrugs, though you can tell he appreciates it. ‘Anyway, it’s your turn to answer. Do you have a boyfriend?’

If you were drinking something, you’re sure you would have choked. ‘I-no?’

He looks slightly put out. ‘Is it complicated?’

You shake your head, maybe a little too hard. ‘No, sorry, you just caught me off guard. No, I don’t have a boyfriend.’ He looks instantly brighter. ‘Why, are you asking me out?’ You tease.

He blushes. ‘I mean, uh, I, um-’

‘Oh my God,’ You laugh, though you feel disappointed. ‘It’s okay, I was only joking. Ouch.’ You’re almost glad you didn’t get a chance to ask him out and make things awkward between the two of you. Maybe not seeing him for two weeks was a sign from the universe not to fuck up.

‘I didn’t mean it like that, oh God, I’m sorry.’ He groans and buries his face in his hands.

You tap him playfully on the shoulder. ‘It’s fine,’ You can’t help but feel hurt. Why did he ask you if he doesn’t care whether you have one or not? Maybe you’re just reading too much into it. ‘My turn, anyway. What’s traumatized you the most since working here?’

‘Learning that when cast members say ‘have a Disney day’ they really mean ‘fuck you’.’

You throw your head back and laugh. ‘That’s my favorite. Although as far as things go, that’s pretty vanilla.’

‘Maybe I’m a vanilla guy.’ He teases, and you can’t help but let your mind wander to an image of him hovering over you, reaching up to intertwine your hands together as he moans sweetly in your ear and you feel your face heat up.

‘So you’re admitting you’re boring.’ You joke halfheartedly, almost off-beat.

He places his hand over his heart in mock hurt. ‘That was uncalled for. Alright then, little miss kinky, where’s the most daring place you’ve had sex?’

Your eyes widen comically. ‘I-’ You glance at the monitors and see two figures in the back row of the mostly deserted ride, one hunched over with their head in the lap of what you make out to be a guy judging by the other figure’s movements. ‘Oh my God, no!’ You cry and fumble for the microphone.

‘What? What is it?’ Jaemin asks, his eyes searching. You can tell the moment he sees what you’re seeing, because he instantly cracks up laughing.

‘It’s not funny,’ You whine, pressing the red button on the microphone and saying as firmly as you can as monotonous as you can, ‘This is a family-friendly ride. Please refrain from scarring’ - you hiss and the figure has the decency to bolt upright and you see that they’re a girl - ‘the camera operators and fellow riders. Thank you.’ The others on the ride look around in confusion, and you can see the girl turn to say something to the boy. Judging by the way she gestures, it’s safe to assume it’s something biting.

‘I thought you said this happens all the time.’ Jaemin says once he’s calmed down enough to make the words out.

‘It does,’ You keep your eye on the couple, the guy wearing a smug grin as he zips up his trousers and the girl looking meek and embarrassed. Good. Public indecency is no joke. ‘But that doesn’t make it any less gross. This is a kids’ park for goodness sake.’

‘But there aren’t any kids around.’

You give him an exasperated look. ‘Well, I would never be okay with doing it on a ride in public.’

He licks his lips and you follow the movement only slightly too closely. ‘So when I asked where the most risky place you’ve had sex is…’ He trails off, smirking.

‘You can cross a literal children’s park from the list of possibilities, and proudly so.’ You say stubbornly. ‘Please don’t tell me you have.’ You rush to say upon seeing his face.

‘I haven’t.’ He says slowly, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his chair, spreading his legs. You wish they didn’t look so inviting. You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

‘But?’ You probe.

‘But nothing,’ He says simply. ‘So, are you gonna answer my question or are you gonna forfeit?’

You scowl at him. ‘What do you want if I do?’ You can feel your pulse racing in both excitement and fear but you keep your face blank.

His eyes shine as he leans forward, bracing his elbows on his thighs. ‘I don’t know yet.’

You swallow at his suggestive tone. ‘Fine, I’ll tell you,’ You concede, and he seems to not know whether to be pleased or disappointed. ‘My ex was a bit of an exhibitionist. He, um, you know, touched me when we went to see a movie.’

Jaemin raises an eyebrow, but you miss the glint in his gaze. ‘I thought you weren’t down for doing it in kids’ places.’

‘We were watching Paranormal Activity.’ You say flatly.

‘And?’

‘And it’s rated eighteen plus!’ You defend.

‘Is that the furthest you’ve gone in public? No compromising positions? No p in the-’

You cut him off hurriedly before he can go any further. ‘I’ve just never done it anywhere risky,’ You sigh dramatically. ‘I think I’m vanilla, too.’

He laughs loudly. ‘You don’t have to say it like it’s a bad thing. Anyway, I never said I was vanilla.’

You frown. ‘Earlier, you did.’

‘Did I? Maybe I was just saying it to tease you.’ He smiles a wide, boyish smile, completely contradicting what he’s implying with his words.

‘Oh?’ You say breathlessly. ‘Well, okay then.’

‘Don’t believe me?’

‘I-what? I never said-’

‘Would you rather I show you?’ He offers and your breath hitches as you meet his intense eyes. The warm brown seems darker and he glances at your chest as you breathe deeply. You can’t believe he said that. In the short time you’ve known him, you’re taken aback at how quickly he can switch between shyness and confidence.

When you merely stare back at him, not knowing what to say, he stands up and closes the short distance between the two of you so that his knee grazes your own as he stands above you. ‘____,’ He says, a slight rasp in his voice. ‘I need you to say it if you want this.’

You swallow and whisper, ‘Yes.’

He cups your face with his hand, his thumb softly stroking your cheek as he brings his lips down upon yours. You lift your own hand to hold his wrist which is currently beside your face and use the other one to grip onto the arm of the chair to ground yourself in the moment.

You let loose a small whimper as he glides his tongue across your bottom lip, and you part your lips to allow it in. He grips you tighter before he pulls away from your mouth to trail wet kisses across your jaw. ‘Guess you ended up tasting my coffee, anyway, hm?’ He whispers lowly into your ear before pecking it and you shudder, with both pleasure and laughter.

‘I guess so.’ You look into his eyes and see the pure hunger that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

Jaemin notices and pulls you up gently, pushing your hips into the desk with the monitors above it. Taking the hint, you spread your legs to give him room to stand between them, and he praises a quick, ‘Atta girl’, before leaning back down to reconnect your lips. You now take note of the slight hint of coffee on his tongue this time but you don’t care as you impatiently and desperately kiss him back and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer. His hand ghosts up your thigh, making you shiver in his arms. He slowly moves to unbutton your bottoms, giving you time to stop him.

In response, however, you whine at what feels like his teasing and unbutton and unzip them yourself, causing him to chuckle as he pulls away. ‘Are you impatient, baby?’ You swoon internally at the pet name and nod, biting your lip.

‘Please,’ You manage. ‘Want you to touch me.’

He moans and slides his fingers into your underwear, not wanting to tease you over them after you asked so nicely. He grins as his fingers slide in your arousal and says, ‘You’re so wet already. Do you want me to make you come all over my fingers?’

‘Fuck, yes.’ You breathe.

His eyes drink in your rapidly rising chest and the utter desire written all over your face as he gently slides a finger inside you. ‘So tight and wet. How are you gonna take my cock if you’re this tight, hm?’ You whine and he eases a second finger in and starts thrusting at a pace that makes you arch your back. 

Your hand flies to his bicep, feeling the way it flexes under your fingertips as he scissors his fingers inside of you. His thumb finds your clit and rubs hard circles into it, the pressure being just enough to make your toes curl. You lean into him and rest your head on his shoulder, pressing a swift kiss to the juncture between it and his neck. You marvel at the way goosebumps rise upon your touch and the way your breaths feel huffing against his rapidly heating skin. You can smell the faint scent of earthiness and wood from his cologne, which you take a deep breath of and breathe in his aroma as your hand winds itself in his hair and tugs when a particular deep surge of his fingers hits a spot that makes your brain go fuzzy.

‘Jaemin.’ You moan and he all but growls.    

‘That’s it, baby, say my name. Are you close? Wanna see your face when I make you cum.’ His words weigh down your lower stomach like a ton of bricks, furthering you along in your chase to find your release. He nudges your clit deliciously, teasing you by rubbing around it every now and then, pulling you away only to bring you back with ten times the sensitivity and it’s enough to push you closer to the edge faster than when you touch yourself.

You feel the coil in your stomach tightening as you nod to answer his question and unbutton your top enough to fit your hand into your bra, your fingers finding your nipple and rolling it between them. You lift your face from his shoulder and stare into the seemingly pitless black of his eyes as they’re stuck to your face and the changes in your expression as he brings you to the edge. ‘Yes, don’t stop, please.’ You manage. His features are hard to make out in the dim lighting, but you notice the way his eyes zero in on your hand stuffed into your bra and it’s when he picks up the pace, fucking his fingers into you harder that you finally let go. Your eyes roll back and your grip on his arm tightens as you moan his name like a mantra.

He takes his fingers out after riding you through your high and makes eye contact as he sucks his fingers clean. ‘Mm, sweet.’ He teases.

You hide behind your hands in embarrassment and he laughs as he pries them away from your face. ‘You gonna let me bend you over this desk, now?’ He grins.

You nod meekly, your legs trembling as you stand up to your full height. Jaemin unbuttons your blouse as you return the gesture on him, pushing his shirt open to run your fingers down the ridges in his stomach. You teasingly flick your thumbs over his nipples and he gasps, to which you smirk and repeat the motion, causing him to moan and you bite your lip at the sound. ‘Sensitive, are you?’

He slaps your ass playfully in response, pulling your trousers and underwear down in one go. You reach behind you and unclip your bra as you step out of the pool of clothing at your feet, pulling it down your arms slowly. He opens his mouth to make a remark, but decides against it as your breasts come into view. He sucks in a breath and reaches up, tugging your left nipple that’s standing to attention. ‘You’re perfect.’ He says, taking in your figure.

You smile, hearing the sincerity in his voice. ‘I want to see you, too.’ You pout, pulling on his belt loops so that he’s even closer and then reaching down to undo them.

He helps you by unbuckling his belt and letting his trousers drop to the floor. You reach into his underwear and run your fingers down his length before wrapping your hand around it and moving it up and down. He throws his head back and you kiss down his neck, tasting the bittersweet salt of his sweat and the natural flavour of his skin. You pull him out of his underwear and begin to pick up the pace but all too soon he puts his hand over yours, halting you.

‘I want to come inside you.’ He phrases it like a question and you nod, turning around and bending over the desk. His hands smooth over the flesh of your ass as he says, ‘You look so good like this.’ Jaemin runs his length between your lips to lube himself and then situates himself so that he’s pressing against your entrance. ‘Ready?’

‘Yes. Please, Jaemin.’ You push your hips back so he gets the hint.

‘That never gets old,’ He pushes himself in steadily and you gasp at the stretch and how satisfying it feels. ‘Been wanting to hear you moan my name since the first day.’

You moan as he thrusts into you, hard and fast. His pace is almost bruising, the way he grips your hips assures you that you’ll feel a smattering of fingertip-shaped soreness tomorrow when you run your fingers over the area. ‘Me too.’ You say in between breaths. He reaches up to roll your bud between his fingers and you whine; your hand travels between your legs to rub your clit. It jumps a little from sensitivity but you keep at it until you just feel pure, white-hot pleasure.

‘Fuck!’ He shouts as you clench around him once he hits a spot that has you grasping his wrist. ‘You feel so fucking good,’ He praises, kissing up your back until he’s whispering in your ear, ‘So. Fucking. Good.’ In between thrusts. You shudder and turn your head, capturing his lips in yours. The kiss is messy but neither of you can bring yourselves to care, too lost in the feeling and taste of each other to pay it any mind. The sound of your hips connecting fills the small room, echoing as it bounces off the walls until your head is filled with his moans and his skin on yours and just Jaemin, Jaemin, Jaemin.

You feel yourself hovering over the edge almost embarrassingly quick and you cry out, ‘I’m so close.’

‘Yeah? Gonna come all over my cock like a good girl?’ He says huskily and you bite your lip and nod. You never would’ve guessed the timid boy you met on the first day who looked so innocent as the new guy had such a dirty mouth. It makes you shiver all over, loving the way his words caress your skin and make your nipples stand to an impossible hardness.

‘Yeah. Wanna be good for you.’

He groans. ‘You are, baby, you’re so good for me.’ At his words, you feel yourself come undone and your legs shake from the effort of holding you up. Jaemin whines as you clench around him sporadically, your breaths coming out in ragged puffs. You swear the sound pushes you harder for longer, wanting to do everything you can to hear him make such a pretty noise again.

‘Wait,’ You say, and he stops immediately. ‘I’m too sensitive. I can’t-’ Your voice cracks.

‘Can’t what, ____? Do you want me to stop?’ You can hear the genuine concern laced in his words.

‘No, well, yes,’ You huff and turn around, letting him slide out of you and you internally cringe at the feeling of him brushing against your sensitive walls. ‘Come here.’ You reach for his hands and pull him back over to you, closing the distance he put between you after you turned around. He looks confused as you smile lazily and kiss him sloppily, your hand moving between his legs to grab him at the base and squeezing him.

He moans and breaks off the kiss. ‘____, if you want to stop-’ You shush him as you drop to your knees and his eyes light up as you lean in to kiss the tip of him lovingly.

You trail your tongue from base to tip and take him in your mouth, suckling the head.

He curses. ‘Please don’t tease, I’m so close already.’

You relent, opening your mouth as wide as you can and sinking down to fit as much of him as you can. What doesn’t fit, you stroke with your hand. You can just about fit your hand around his girth and you can taste yourself on him, something you never thought you’d like but in that moment nothing could be hotter. He fists his hands in your hair, tugging slightly to make you look up at him. When you do, you moan around him at the sight - teeth tugging on his lower lip as he lets out moans here and there when you pay extra attention to the tip and his head thrown back, baring the honey-colored skin of his neck to your hungry eyes. He finally looks down at you and you’re close enough to hear his breath hitch as he watches you take him in and out of your mouth in a trance. You twist and tug him in a way that has his thigh twitching next to your head and so you place your hands on them and take him into your throat.

It’s when you simultaneously fondle his balls that he lets out a quiet ‘fuck’, followed by an ‘I’m coming’ and thrusts shallowly, causing tears to spring in your eyes. He releases into your mouth and you swallow it down and clean him off, earning that whimper that makes your clit throb.

Jaemin pulls you to your feet and into a kiss that you both commit to; one that’s passionate and slow as you calm both of your racing hearts and come down from the high of intimacy. You know he can taste himself on you, but he doesn’t hesitate to give his all. When he breaks away, he leans his forehead against yours, leaving wet kisses all over your face and you giggle. He runs his hands up your arms and says, ‘So, can I take you on a date now?’

You look into his eyes and nod, feeling suddenly shy at his vulnerable stare. ‘Yeah, I’d like that.’

‘So,’ He says casually, pulling you in closer by wrapping his arms around your shoulders. ‘Is this officially the weirdest place you’ve had sex?’

You gasp and slap his chest lightly but he just cackles in return, pulling you back into him.

[austennerdita2533]

A/N: Hey @commonxcrimminals​ remember that Melendaire Fix-It-Of-Sorts fic I’ve had on my computer since freaking MARCH?? Well...I finally finished it!  CAN YOU BELIEVE. Anyway, were it not for your oodles of encouragement or our constant why-did-Melendez-have-to-die wailing sessions on every social media platform out there, I probably never would’ve summoned the gall to finish or post the darn thing. So thank you!

This one is dedicated to you, my friend. Love you more than I can possibly convey! ❤️ ❤️

Summary: When it comes to moments of life or death, Neil and Claire learn sometimes one defibrillation of the heart can reset everything.

Also here: (A03)

Enjoy! xx

Defibrillation

The sirens start, red and blue lights cutting through the darkness with speed. Neil’s strapped to a gurney, conscious but barely, with tubes and leads sticking from him like he’s part machine while his eyes fixate on the gray-white swirl of the ceiling.

What’s happened? Where is he? Why the hell does he hurt so much? Right now the blunt ache over his left temple is a trifle compared to the scalpel-like shard that’s been stabbing through his abdomen every two to four seconds and has nausea roaring into the back of his throat with each bump, with each gloved touch that ghosts over his prone form in examination, his vision dotted and blurred and fading…

It’s fading quickly…

…yes…

…f-fading…

…so…q u i c k…ly…

Monitors beep in the background. Softly at first, then louder. Faster. Shorter. Quieter. Steadily the screens track his stats before diving into erratic nonsense that can’t be pieced together as his fists curl into the sheet beneath him, knuckles bumping against a metal railing.

Neil’s eyelids burn, they grow heavy. All he tastes is blood and bile. A mask hangs over his mouth so he can’t talk, can’t call out either, the oxygen cool as it filters through his nostrils, little hairs tickling. He winces once, takes another shallow breath in—and then nothing.

Blackness pops. Noiseless but everywhere. Like a falling curtain, it frays the edges of the world until he can no longer see them.

Coldness slams like a hammer over his chest, pouring, rippling, spreading out with tendrils to invade cell after cell until before he knows it he’s drifting away from time and thoughts and oxygen that won’t hold steady…He’s sinking down, down, down into a rigid stillness that refuses to lift.

But then—

A flurry of movement to his right. Behind his head. Next comes a lot of pronounced clunking, swearing, whispering; perhaps even some harried tearing or unzipping.

No, no, no. Stay with me, pleads a familiar voice from above him in echo. With his head spinning with delirium, however, he’s unable to place who is speaking.

Come on, Neil. Don’t do this, not now. Hold on for me.

He feels distant, detached, like he’s been sunk under water but never went swimming.

Hold on for me, the voice repeats again. Please.

The words are wet and desperate as they land on his chest with two hands that push, and push, his eyes slitting open just wide enough for Claire’s face to float into focus for a moment then out again like a dream, the heel of her palm pounding into him with the force of a tether to keep him there with her, alive, stable - one breath, one blink, one heartbeat at a time.

The fleeting sight of her brings him back. Hair. Scrubs. Hands. Eyes. She brings him back into the pain and into the light. Her relief, that smile—he needs it; it’s a leash yanking him off the ledge of surrender and telling him to fight for another chance to live. To speak. After all, he’s a surgeon, so doesn’t he already know time is a borrowed gift with no guarantees?

Stay with me, Claire says again. And this time, he clings. He clings to her as hard as he can even as the world goes black a second time, his heart still full of too many unsaid things.

She waits for the door to click shut behind her in the stairwell.

Alone on the landing, there are no more voices. No more computers or phones. There are no more charts to read, labs to run, procedures to schedule, or medications to administer.

Wheelchairs stop squeaking through the hallways. Their wheels are no longer sticking to speckled white tiles as they turn the corner and head toward recovery. The smell of brewing coffee in the lounge near OR Four becomes a stale memory because here, and only here, do the demands of the hospital dissolve long enough for Claire to collapse her head into her palms for a moment, and breathe. Just breathe.

She only takes a moment. A second to grapple with the enormity of all that is happening.

Eyes closed, thoughts scattered, her fingers coil around something metal in her pocket and idle.

Her thumbnail traces sleek edges, silver grooves. A chain droops over her knuckles and scratches. Soothes. Familiarity tingling with each pass.

It’s a cross she fists in the quiet gloom. A token. Some beat-up trinket of her mother’s she couldn’t part with after her death so she’s taken to carrying it with her like a talisman even though she hasn’t believed in anything, or in anyone, for a long time. Not for years and years. Not until him, that is.

Neil.

He’ll be fine, Claire assures herself with a nod and a sniff. He’ll be okay.

The scan results sit in a folder next to her feet, still in need of a consult, still in want of a surgical scheme. The words “stable but critical” float in her periphery then flicker out again like a nightmare that won’t fade.

He needs to be okay, she thinks. Cold bites into her palm as she squeezes then releases, squeezes then releases, her pinky tracing the divots the pendant leaves behind on her skin.

He has to be.

Slowly, organically, Neil has chipped away at her walls to become a fixture in her life and she likes him there. Needs him there. She realizes she’ll do anything to keep him around, to keep him close to her for as long as she can.

So believer or not, Claire bows her head. She closes her eyes tighter and lets faith bleed from her heart straight into her hands.

Clutching her mother’s cross to her breast, begging for the strength and the skill to save him so they can have more time to bowl badly or laugh the night away over beers, so she can have the chance to say the words she already feels, she utters an urgent plea into the space around the stairs.

Claire wishes so hard for him to live that the words flutter as they take wing. They transform into symbols of her hope and despair:

A fossil in the air.

A sob with feathers.

A scream leeching from her compressed lips like a prayer.

.

.

.

Neil wakes with his head bandaged, his abdomen dissected with stitches, and a tuft of curly softness blanketed over his arm.

Squinting against the harsh hospital light, he sits up. Allows himself to adjust. To take in his surroundings.

Currently he lies flat in bed. A central line coils up his arm. His head pounds, and his mouth is dry. Wrapped in scratchy sheets, in sticky gauze and bandages, he notices the curtains are pulled shut for privacy and that there’s a woman fast asleep in the space beside him.

The first thing he does is smile. The second thing he does is tremble, relief as well as gratitude pricking the corners of his eyes.

The sight of Claire snoring and pillowed against his side overwhelms him so much that he shifts to brush his hand over the crown of her head without thinking. His touch, both featherlight and timid because he’s worried she’s a mirage on the verge of disappearing, petrified that one wrong move will shatter the reality of this moment like glass, Neil cups her cheek in his palm and he marvels—he savors.

He loses himself in the pure simplicity of touch. The chaste pleasure of it. Tracing the curves of her face with his thumb until she wakes.

“Hey there, sleepy head. Nice to see you again,” he whispers as her eyelids flicker open.

“Hey, you. Welcome back,” she stirs groggily and yawns. “Can I get you anything? Pillows? Blankets? Meds? Here, let me—”

Claire makes to move, to fuss over him, but she stops when Neil shakes his head, holding her in place with a look, with a languid stroke of his fingers along her jawline. Relenting, she softens enough to desist fidgeting. Then leans into his palm to ask, “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” she balks, sitting up. “Don’t lie.”

“I’m not. Though, I do have the sneaking suspicion I was autopsied in my sleep for spare parts,” he jokes, wincing, “but otherwise I’m not bad. Fuzzy. Sore mostly. And you?”

“I’m okay, I guess. You know…considering.” Her shoulders heavy, Claire shrugs as she averts her gaze to check his fluids and vitals on the monitor, exhaling like she’s been holding in a breath for years. “Anyway, I’m much better now that you’re out of surgery.”

“—Not to mention conscious.”

“Right.”

“And talking again,” Neil adds glibly.

“Yeah,” she laughs but it falls flat. “That, too.”

“How long have I been out, by the way?” It’s a pointed question. Uncomfortable. Painful for them both to address because of all the might have been’s and almost was’s it carries with it, but he needs to know. He has to be in possession of all the facts.

Turning toward the window, Claire adjusts the blinds and swipes at her face, hiccupping back some stray emotion she doesn’t want him to see. “It’s been a while," she explains. Doesn't elaborate.

“Oh.”

“Yeah," she says, her voice small. “Things were touch and go for a few days.”

“I see.” A beat of strained silence. Then another. And another. He’s starting to notice the weariness she wears about her person now: the paleness, her rimmed complexion, the wrinkles in her clothes. He even recognizes the remnants of a few to-go lattes in the trash bin. It makes him wonder how many hours she’s spent camped out in this room while he recovered—weighing the odds. Pouring over charts. Pacing the floor while she waited for signs of life that weren’t guaranteed, or worse, might not have been coming at all.

“Hey, Claire?” he breaks in softly.

“Hm?”

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Startled and sobering, she turns. Sits back down on the edge of the bed. “For what?” she asks.

“Nearly dying to start,” Neil says with a sigh. “For the cowardice I’ve been hiding behind. For not knowing one-sided conversations aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, or that living inside your own head lands you nowhere except in hell.

“I’ve been stupid and careless… wasted so much time. I’m a fool for not having told you I’m in love with you sooner, for one,” he continues huskily, his voice breaking around emotion and a smile when she gapes back at him in disbelief. “But I am. In love with you, that is. Have been for a while.”

Claire’s eyes are red and glassy now. Her head has fallen during his speech to make a pillow of his chest, a place from where she blinks even and level back at him. Studying him as if he were a scientific specimen.

Still, there’s a warmth about her that puts him at ease. Her attentiveness is a balm that makes him stronger and bolder even though he has no reason to be.

Shrugging, Neil offers a slight upward quirk of his mouth before adding, “I could have lost you. Best to just—lay it all out there at this point, don’t you think?”

The sentimentality behind his choice of words is not lost upon him but he finds there’s no point in discretion now. There is nothing dumber to him than chasing back courage with fear when he knows how he’s ended up here, and why. There has to be a reason he’s come back to this world. To this hospital. To this moment. And to her.

There has to be.

He believes there’s a future out there where they can hold happiness in both hands, he feels it like a scalpel pressed against an artery. All they have to do is be brave enough to make a grab for it. Mark the incision. Cut the damn thing wide open and let possibility bleed where it bleeds.

“If you don’t realize I love you, too,” Claire sniffs at long last, trying to sound droll and unaffected, though not quite managing it with tears spilling down her cheeks, “then you’re an idiot.”

“An idiot, huh?”

“The biggest.”

“Right.” He considers this seriously. “Got it. Now, can you rate that on a scale of 1 to 10 for me, please?”

Snorting, she fires back without missing a beat, “Sure. Try infinity.”

Neil laughs at that. Then, with undisguised tenderness, he frames Claire’s head in his hands and pulls her toward him by the nape until she’s tangled in sheets and IV wires with him. To hell with the pain.

“Well then. Let’s see if I can do something to lower that number, Dr. Browne,” he says before capturing her mouth in an overdue kiss to cinch things between them with chemistry. With feeling. Jumpstarting their hearts like a defibrillator that will reset everything.

That one kiss, as it turns out, marks the first step towards being able to forge a future together. A start. To them, it comes to represent just that: a new beginning.

[roseyserpents]

Secrets

The Start

Summary: You and Sweet Pea went through a rough patch in your relationship that almost tore you apart. As you're fixing your relationship, your secrets start to get in the way. Can your relationship withstand another storm?

Warnings: near smut, cursing, angst

Word count: 2,909

A/N: this was going to be a song fic, that's why the beginnings a lil weird but I got too far into the storyline. There's going to be more than one part so stay tuned and shoot me an ask to be added to the taglist!

part 1 // Part 2

Fighting seemed to be the only thing you and Sweet Pea had been doing recently. Whether it was small bickering when you were out with friends, or full out screaming in each other's faces in his trailer at late hours in the night. The inability for the two of you to go two days without getting into some variation of a fight was putting a large strain on your relationship, both of you being able to feel the heavyweight and see the shadow of it. It was hurting you that the person you loved was constantly glaring and scoffing at you, kind words or actions a rarity in recent weeks. But as much as it did hurt you couldn't bring yourself to call it off. Being with Sweet Pea was all you knew, the two of you had been together since the end of freshman year.

It was getting harder though. You knew Sweet Pea felt the stress too by the way he looked at you and how he acted. Both of you felt it was getting harder and harder to be around each other, your mood going sour when you were in the same room for too long. You didn't know why or how things ended up like this, how you could hate the very person you loved but it was happening. You remembered when every day was a perfect one because he was in it, each moment feeling better than the last.

"Why do you always get the same milkshake?" You ask as Sweet Pea sits down at your booth, sliding you your peanut butter milkshake across the table.

"I don't want to get one I don't like." He shrugs, stirring the vanilla dessert with his straw.

"You should live a little! Get a different one." You smile nudging his hand with your own, your grin getting bigger when he holds it. "How about you have mine and I have yours."

With that, you switch them across the table sipping your new vanilla milkshake.

"Really?" Sweet Pea sighs, looking from you to the cups.

"Try it!" You say. "Maybe you'll get peanut butter every time."

He rolls his eyes but still takes a sip, you giving him an expecting look. "What?" He asks, his brow creasing as he looks at you.

"You didn't melt? You're not poisoned?" He grins.

"Okay okay, it's not horrible." He says, trying to hold back a smile but failing.

"There's the lovebirds." You hear Toni say as she sits down next to you at your booth. "Is Sweet Pea drinking something other than vanilla?"

"Yeah because I stole his." You giggle, stirring the milkshake with your straw.

"One of the only things you refuse to change is the flavour." She sighs. "Anyway, I came here to tell you guys Cheryl and I are going camping with Fangs and Kevin, you guys are welcome to come. It's at our usual spot on Sweetwater."

Before Sweet Pea can reject the idea you quickly reply, "Of course, we'll be there." You smile.

She returns the gesture before standing and leaving, most likely returning to Cheryl.

"What if I had plans tonight?" Pea asks, quirking a brow as you turn back to him.

"Then I guess you have new ones. It's been too long since we've all been together outside of school, it'll be fun to go on a little triple date with each other." You say.

Sweet Pea lets out a heavy sigh and leans back in his seat, his face showing reluctance but no rejection coming from his mouth. You grin in triumph, rewarding yourself by finishing off the milkshake in front of you and starting to mentally list the stuff you needed to bring.

That night when you went home you waited on your porch until you saw Sweet Pea pull up on his motorcycle. You shoved your phone in your pocket and climbed on behind him, your arms snaking around his torso as he sped down the road towards the river. It was a quiet ride filled with the sound of the town blurring by and the motor of the bike, the peace of that moment lasting a whole fifteen minutes.

"You're here!" You hear Fangs exclaim as you both walk towards the bank of the river.

-

You and Pea had wandered a small way away from the group, sitting against a tree, your sides pressed against each other.

"You know what today is?" You ask, turning your head to look at him. He shakes his head. "Four years ago today we first met." You both think back to when you had to sit next to each other in Miss. Brinkman's science class in eighth grade, the day that changed your life for the good.

"And a little under two years ago we started dating." He says, lacing his fingers with yours. You look down and smile with pride at the relationship you'd created. Despite the fact you were young you felt this relationship could be endgame, you could see yourself spending your life with the boy next to you.

Suddenly two flashes go off, both of you turning away from each other and finding Kevin and Fangs smiling proudly with Polaroids in hand.

"Really?" Sweet Pea asks, annoyance clear in his voice.

"You two never let us take pictures of you so here," Kevin says, handing you both one of the Polaroids that were still developing. You roll your eyes but smile as you look at the foggy picture, Sweet Pea looking down at you with a smile look of admiration, yours the same.

"Thank you, guys." You smile, nudging Sweet Pea when he mumbles something under his breath. You slip the picture into your phone case, the scene easy to see through the clear plastic.

Now you look at the picture that you'd taken out of the case, thinking of Sweet Peas identical one he's slipped into his pocket that night. Everything seemed so simple and loving then. Now you had tear tracks on your cheeks from your most recent fight with Sweet Pea, reminiscing in the past stages of your relationship. You wanted things to be better. God, the only thing you really wanted was to hold his hand or laugh with him again but he despised you.

"Why don't you just break up? This isn't working for either of you." Betty asks in your head, the words replaying from earlier that day.

You didn't break up because you loved him. He was the person you wanted to stick it out with and spend your life with. But the future seemed to be getting further and further away with each and every time the two of you started yelling. It hurt you to do this with him. It felt like your heart was slowly chipping away with each time his eyes looked into your own with rage and despise instead of adoration. Both of you kept that picture and looked back on it, wishing and praying it would all go back to that night. You kept the last strands of your relationship in that picture.

"Sweet Pea." You call out, crossing the school's parking lot towards the tall serpent.

"I thought we were gonna get through today without this." Fangs sighs, looking exhausted with the situation. You ignore both of their looks of annoyance and resist the urge to yell at them.

"Can we talk?" You ask in a voice as gentle as you could. They both look surprised at the calmness that hadn't been between you both for at least three months. Sweet Pea nods to Fangs signaling for him to leave, both of you awkwardly standing in the middle of the now-empty parking lot.

"So?" He asks, gesturing for you to talk.

"We need to change things." You say. "You and I both know this isn't working. All of this fighting and yelling, I can't take it anymore. I love you and you know that, but we need to find a way to either fix this or break up."

Sweet Pea is silent for a few extremely long moments, dragging a hand across his face. "Are you sure we can even fix this?" He asks, finally meeting your eyes.

"If we both try, maybe." You answer honestly. "I just want to try. This, whatever we are right now, is hurting me and I know it's hurting you too. I don't know how this all started but we need to work on it."

Sweet Pea nods and looks down at his feet again. You extend your hand, both of you flinching before your hands' lace together, a weight lifting off your chest.

"No matter how this ends, I love you." You say, keep your gaze on your hands.

"I love you too."

Over the next month and a half, you and Sweet Pea slowly mended your relationship. The beginning was rocky and almost caused you both to walk away, but eventually, it got better. It wasn't as perfect as it was before, but it wasn't screaming in each other's faces anymore. It felt so good to be healing with him. After the first two weeks, everything got easier and it felt like the sun had finally shinned on your world again.

"Hey." Sweet Pea says, cutting your conversation with Toni short. He reaches out and gently holds your hand in his, a smile spreading across your face. Toni nudges your shoulder and grins before excusing herself, crossing the bar to talk to Jughead and Fangs.

"Where did you run off to?" You ask, turning to face Sweet Pea.

"I had to take care of a few things, but I'm free for the rest of the night." He says, brushing away your question. You quirk a brow but don't say anything else, your thumb running over his hand that you now noticed had red knuckles.

"So," Fangs says, approaching with the others in tow, "Now that everything is back to normal, we should all go out to La Bonne Nuit."

"Sounds great." You smile, all of you making your way out to the parking lot. You climbed onto your bike, frowning when it sputtered and died. You kicked the side a few times, but it still refuses to start much to your frustration.

"Need a ride?" Sweet Pea calls from a few spots away. You roll your eyes and cross the parking lot to him, swinging your leg over his motorcycle.

"Might want to hold on." He calls over the sound of the motor before pulling away from the Whyte Wyrm, your arms snaking around him. Soon enough your all sitting down at a table in the underground bar, a few hours spent filled with laughs and mocktails.

You feel Sweet Pea's hand land on your knee, slowly creeping up towards your thigh. You raise your brow at him, sweet Pea simply grinning before turning back to the conversation. Your hand goes under his shirt and you ghost your fingertips up and down his skin, a visible shudder running through him.

"Two can play." You say under your breath, quiet enough so only he can hear.

"But I'll win." He whispers back, his fingers dipping under the hem of your dress. You fire back by placing your hand on the top of his thigh. Before he can do anymore your hand brushes against the middle of his jeans, Sweet Pea standing up straight and clearing his throat.

"We're gonna get going." He says, a shit-eating grin spreading across your face as you see the excited look on his face. You hear a whistle most likely from Fangs as the two of you practically run up the stairs, Sweet Pea pinning you against the outside wall of Pops.

"That wasn't a fair game." He says, basically hovering over you with a look in his eyes you hadn't seen for a long time.

"I'm pretty sure you're just a sore loser." You breathe out, still practically whispering despite the fact you were alone now.

Sweet Pea leans forward without another word and places his lips on yours. Fire seems to relight in your chest as your lips move against his. That was the first time the two of you had kissed since before the fights, and it still felt as great as you remembered it. Sweet Pea pulls away momentarily, his eyes dark with want as they look into your own. You both silently repaired another bridge in your relationship at that moment, your hands moving to the hair at the nape of his neck. You use this grip to pull him back against you, his hands roaming your body before landing on your hips, somehow pulling you closer.

"We should," you try to say but are interrupted by his lips back on yours, "Go back to your place."

"I don't think you've ever said anything better." He smiles before taking you by the hand and leading you to his bike and the short ride to his trailer.

As soon as you walked inside the trailer, Sweet Pea had wrapped his arms around you again and pushing your legs against the back of the couch forcing you to lie down on it below him. Your hands go up to hold his face above yours, your eyes scanning ever part of his face from how his hair fell around it to the scar next to his left eyebrow. You couldn't help but stop and admire this boy that was completely and entirely yours.

"I love you." You whisper, feeling butterflies fly through your stomach. Sweet Pea doesn't reply, only kisses you again this time softer and filled with more emotion than the deep and rough kisses from before. He lingers on the kiss before pulling away just enough so his lips brush over yours. He settles so he's lying on you instead of hovering over you, a small groan coming from you at his weight.

"How did we go from almost having sex to cuddling?" He asks, his hand drawing random shapes on your side.

You shrug and smile, combing your fingers through his hair as he lays his head down on your chest, your heartbeat ringing through his head. Despite the fact he was practically crushing you you felt peaceful. It had been so long since you'd had a moment like this with him, both of you felt a little awkward but it didn't bother you. The awkwardness could be overlooked by the comfort you felt by being close again.

Eventually, Sweet Pea fell asleep, his breaths becoming deeper and more even. You smiled as one of your hands ran up and down his back, listening to the sound of his breathing and crickets chirping occasionally outside.

"Mine." Sweet Pea mumbles in his sleep, his arms tightening around you.

"Mine." You repeat.

-

"Wake up." Someone says, causing you to groan and rub your eyes. "We're gonna be late!"

"What?" You finally open your eyes, seeing Sweet Pea throw on a new shirt and comb his hair, fixing the mess you'd made out of the raven locks.

"We have two minutes before school starts." He answers, grabbing your hand and pulling you up. "If we miss first period we're both getting Saturdays."

"Shit." You breathe, walking towards his bedroom and rummaging through his drawers until finding a plain grey shirt that came down to your thighs, matching it with your black denim jeans from the night before.

"Come on." Sweet Pea says, prompting you to follow him out the door and to his motorcycle. You make it to the school twenty minutes before first period ends, Sweet Pea walking you to your class before running to his.

You walk into the classroom ignoring the looks you got from the Northsiders and hand your tardy note to the teacher, taking your seat in the third row and pulling out your notebook.

-

"Is there a specific reason you were late to school again?" Betty asks at lunch, you and her being the first at your table.

"I overslept." You say, confused as to her curiosity.

"You left La Bonne Nuit around ten." She says.

"And?"

"That seems like more than enough time to get sleep."

"I was with Sweet Pea. All of you saw us leave together." You say, annoyance building in your voice. "Are you trying to-"

The boys sit down at the table, cafeteria food trays in hand.

"Are you guys okay?" Jughead asks through a mouthful of food, observing the tense atmosphere between you and Betty.

"I don't know, ask your girlfriend." You say without breaking eye contact with her.

"I was just wondering where she went last night." Betty smiles innocently.

"With me." Sweet Pea answers, cautiously observing the situation. "Why?"

"Nothing," Betty says, shrugging off the conversation. "I'm gonna go sit with V." With that, she presses a chaste kiss to Jughead's cheek before taking her food and walking to the other side of the cafeteria.

"She was interrogating me like she was trying to pin something on me." You say, glaring in her direction.

"I'm sure she wasn't accusing you of something," Jughead says unconvincingly. "I'll ask her later."

You see the table of Northsiders whispering and looking directly at you. Sweet Pea puts his hand on your knee, running his thumb over your leg. You give him a tense smile as Fangs and Toni sit down, quietly eating your food while the others laugh and talk. All you can think about is Betty's hidden acquisition and what would happen if she pursued it. If she did, she could and would find things on you that happened in the dark that you deeply hoped would never see the light of day, but now this wasn't you're decision. It was all up to her.

[sweetteaanddragons]

The Usual Way

Or: In Which Oromë is Spectacularly Late, and Finwe’s Family Aspires to Avoiding Becoming a Disaster

This is heavily inspired by my previous “In Which Oromë is Late” story, but diverges from it in that by the time Feanor has married Nerdanel, Oromë has still not shown up and discovered the elves. This is also heavily inspired by a line in one of my other fics. Which line will become more apparent as the story progresses.

Also: I have mixed the usage of Sindarin and Quenyan names on the probably faulty assumption that if the two peoples hadn’t diverged, the language they had would be something that was not quite either. Not being a linguist, I had no idea what those changes were likely to be so . . . here we are.

. . . .

Feanor is the one to find them because Feanor never lets little things like possible death stop him from being the one to go deepest into the woods, particularly when he has a new sibling on the way who will need food.

Nolofinwe is with him because he follows his brother everywhere he can, especially now that Feanor has gone and gotten married and shares a tent with Nerdanel instead of them.

It’s a tent he pitches right next to their’s, and he’s promised Nolofinwe that he and Nerdanel will keep following Finwe in their people’s slow trek across the land, ever in search of more food, instead of going off on their own as some do,  but it’s still different, and he hasn’t quite managed to reconcile Nolofinwe to it yet. He just needs a little more time.

All of that slips to the back of his mind the moment they find the camp.

It’s a much smaller one than their’s, just three tents pitched by a small stream that runs burbling through the silent trees. 

It’s also a much quieter one that their’s. No one’s fetching water from the stream. No one’s tending the fire that’s been allowed to burn down to embers. No one’s talking quietly within the tents.

There are hoof prints in the soft mud by the stream’s bank. There are other marks, shallower ones, that look like nothing he’s ever seen before, and suddenly the shadows between the trees seem darker than they were.

“Feanor,” Nolofinwe said, voice tight. “Look. The Hunter’s been here.”

“I saw,” he breathes, voice barely audible, just in case something is still lurking, but he has to know, so he still steals forward grimly to look into the tent.

Probably the grim Hunter has rode on. Probably he wouldn’t bother them anyway; he prefers elves who wander alone to elves who travel together, even if they’re only in groups of two.

Then again, he seems to have carried away the whole camp.

He’s glad when Nolofinwe sticks close to him.

The first two tents are empty of people, though there are blankets and food and a few other items they might take back, as sick as it makes him. They can’t afford waste.

The third tent is not empty.

The third tent has three children inside.

One is only an infant, tucked into the eldest boy’s arms. The third child is clinging on too. All three have wax or cloth stuffed into their ears, and the eldest boy looks at the others like he’s afraid if he blinks they’ll disappear.

His eyes go even wider when he sees them.

Feanor kneels down to put himself at their level, and Nolofinwe follows belatedly.

The eldest boy looks at them suspiciously for a long moment before slowly removing the blob of wax from his ear. He holds it ready to jam back in at a moment’s notice, though.

“I’m Feanor, and this is my brother, Nolofinwe,” he says. “What’s your name?”

The boy relaxes just a little at the mention of brother and even more when he hears the -finwe. Everyone knows of their father. 

“Maitimo,” he says quietly. He hugs the other two children impossibly closer. He does not volunteer their names.

“What happened?” Nolofinwe asks.

Maitimo promptly bursts into tears.

. . .

(The story, as it comes out later, is this: Maitimo’s mother had gone to get water from the stream last night and never returned. Her brother, who was the youngest boy’s father, had gone to look for her. He hadn’t come back either. At that point, the remaining adults had known better than to send anyone else. They had known.

But then the whispers had started.

And then the screams. 

Maitimo had blood on his fingernails from where they had dug into his father’s arm as he desperately tried to keep their last remaining protector from going outside.

His father had shaken him off.

Maitimo had clapped his hands over his ears before the whispers could turn their attention on him.)

. . .

Maitimo clings to his brother’s shirt as Feanor carries both of them back to camp, and he keeps a suspicious eye on how Nolofinwe is carrying his cousin the whole way there.

The baby in Nolofinwe’s arms frets.

But the middle boy, the one Maitimo calls ‘Laure in a soft, frightened voice - he doesn’t make a single noise.

Not once.

. . .

Their father looks older when they tell him what’s happened. The Hunter has grown bolder, and still they are no closer to finding a way to protect themselves from him, or any of the other horrors that lurk in the endless trees.

Nameless horrors aside, there are still three children that need looking after. Finwe manages to pry the names of the younger two out of Maitimo: Macalaure and Carnistir. His other question, if they have other family somewhere, fares more poorly. If there are others out there, Maitimo doesn’t know.

Feanor gets a curious look on his face as soon as it becomes apparent that they’re going to have to find someone to look after them.

. . .

(“Nerdanel,” he says, leaning against the tree that she is perched in the lower branches of, chipping stone into arrowheads, “you still want children, don’t you?”

Nerdanel does want children. She is, however, somewhat suspicious of her dear husband’s tone. “I do,” she says slowly, not quite committing to anything. 

“How do you feel about three?”)

. . .

The three children are absorbed into the camp easily enough. Maitimo follows Feanor around like a second shadow, and Macalaure toddles after, one hand clutching his brother’s shirt. Nerdanel binds Carnistir to her back the way the other women do and sings to him as she works.

Feanor works hard to make sure all the children have enough. He will not have another Findis. Maitimo helps him solemnly, bright and quick and always watchful.

He never lets Feanor wander into the trees for even two paces alone.

Macalaure still doesn’t speak, but Feanor returns from collecting fruit with Maitimo one day to find him hiding behind a tree one day while Nerdanel sings to the baby.

When she stops, Macalaure starts quietly humming the tune.

Maitimo makes a soft sound, and Feanor looks down and, for the first time, sees him smile.

. . .

He doesn’t plan on it happening again, because finding children in the woods is never something you plan on, but he isn’t entirely surprised either.

After all, the woods grow more dangerous every year.

It starts with whispers this time. Whispers of something new in the trees - something that looks like an elven child but runs with wolves and has blood on its teeth.

As it turns out, that story is correct in every particular except for the part where it claims the boy only looks like an elvish child. Standing across from the child now and seeing the wonder in his eyes as he takes in Feanor’s bright clothes, Feanor’s pretty sure that an elvish child is exactly what he is.

Feanor takes a cautious step forward.

The boy bares his teeth and growls before he takes off running through the trees.

. . . 

They can’t just leave him out there. It isn’t safe.

He folds up a gift of food in bright red cloth that Nerdanel has donated to the cause at the edge of their camp. Macalaure pats his shoulder and hums a questioning noise.

“I’m trying to bring you home a new little brother,” he explains, though he’s not sure if little is the right term or not. Maitimo has shot up these past few years, but Macalaure remains worryingly small.

Macalaure hums a happy note and offers up his small wooden horse to add to the pile.

. . . 

It takes three gifts of food to lure the boy into their camp, and it’s the growing chill of winter that finally drives him all the way in to the warmth of their fire.

Nerdanel wraps him him in a blanket, and his growl seems half-hearted. He curls into the warmth, and when they wake up in a morning, he’s still there, safe in the middle of the pile of warm bodies the children inevitably make.

. . . 

The boy doesn’t talk - or, no, as Feanor corrects the unwary sharply, he does talk, he talks perfectly well - he’s just speaking in the tongue of wolves instead of the tongue of elves. They’ve managed to teach him a few words already, but they can’t expect him to learn overnight.

Feanor listens to his growls and watches his body language and learns to speak his tongue while they’re teaching him their’s, just as he’s learned the meanings of every one of Macalaure’s wordless hums.

. . . 

(The full story never does come out, for obvious reasons, but they can guess the outlines well enough - parents gone, child left alone, and, by some miracle, taken in instead of eaten by a pack of wolves.

They do not guess the unthinkable truth: That sometimes, a child may be left deliberately behind during a particularly hungry winter.)

. . .

The child’s original name, whatever it might have been is lost. Maitimo calls him Celegorm after one too many days of him rising before the stars have reached the proper place in their dance, and for good or ill, the name sticks.

. . . 

Three years later, when Nerdanel announces that there’s going to be another baby, Carnistir’s eyes swing towards the woods as if he expects his new sibling to come toddling out at any moment.

“I’m having a baby,” Nerdanel clarifies.

Feanor whoops and picks her up to swing her, laughing, through the air.

He doesn’t see the looks that the older children share.

. . . 

Celegorm doesn’t think to be concerned and Carnistir is still too young, but Maitimo works harder than ever, and Macalaure - 

Macalaure goes and sits by his father’s feet and helps him work on the new type of bow Feanor has been crafting and then he says, “Will you still want us after the baby comes?”

Feanor drops the bow and turns to stare down at Macalaure’s hunched shoulders because he can’t quite believe that the small, scratched voice he just heard was Macalaure. Talking. Actually talking.

Then the rest of what he says sinks in, and oh. He knows that feeling. He’d turned every ounce of it into jealousy and fury and hurled it all at tiny Findis.

“Till the end of the world,” he promises.

Macalure talks more, after that.

.  . . 

The new baby is small, but not too small, and Nerdanel is tired, but not, the midwife assures him, too tired. Everything is fine. Everything will reamain find.

Finding children in the woods is much less stressful.

They let the other children hold the baby one by one.

“Small,” Celegorm whispers in an awed tone. Little Curufin has caught hold of one of his fingers and refuses to let go.

“For now,” Feanor agrees. “Let’s go show him to your uncles outside.”

. . .

Technically, Feanor doesn’t find the twins in the woods. Someone else does that part.

But. Well. Apparently the given assumption amongst Finwe’s people is that any unclaimed children found in the forest are now his and Nerdanel’s.

Neither of them is going to complain about it.

. . . 

(Two months later, Oromë shows up and tells them of a land where light shines like fire and the dead can still walk.

Feanor looks down at six of his seven children and immediately feels guilty for his heart’s pained twist.)

(Things don’t improve when someone brings up Miriel.)

. . .

A/N: The line this story was partially inspired from was Amrod and Amras’s comment from “Bearing Children” that they got their baby changeling in “the usual way.” Which . . . under the circumstances implied that the usual way was finding a baby in the middle of the forest, probably surrounded by dead people. And, in this AU, that is sort of the usual way for their family. Six out of seven definitely qualifies as the usual.

[sunnysidewrites]

Wolf!Wonwoo

Requested by anon: The Wonwoo fic and Taeyang fic are so freaking cute and they are so well written too omg! Please write more fics for the both of them as they're my favourites (: Wolf!au? Thank you ((((:

Requested by anon: Wolf!au for wonwoo or woozi! Thank you and I love your works!!

so i got the same au request i hope both of these suited your taste! LIKE I SAID I HAVE OVERWHELMING FEELS FOR WONWOO SO THIS IS PROBABLY LIKE THE LONGEST HEADCANON I’VE EVER WRITTEN THIS IS SUPER LONG OMG BUT I HOPE YOU ENJOY EVERYONE!!!! BACK AT IT AGAIN WITH THE WONWOO IMAGINES :)))) if you weren’t satisfied please send me another request!

oKAY NO LIE I WAS LITERALLY THINKING ABOUT THIS LAST NIGHT

I was lying in bed and was just like “hm you know wonwoo really resembles a wolf????”

aND THE NEXT THING I KNOW I HAVE 2 REQUESTS ABOUT THIS AU LMAO

I love jeon wonwoo anyways

You lived near a very dense forest with your grandpa

Since it was a small town, there could only be so many things that could happen before word travels

Ofc nothing ever happens in your small town the most eventful thing was when the local market ran out of your favorite potato chips like honEST TO GOD

But as of late there’s been more signs of wildlife in the forest and everyone is lowkey freaking out like what is this we haven’t even had livestock in 80+ years????

Thanks to the dense forest there’s been showing a steadily increase in deer population yay!!!! But also what!!!!

With deer ofc comes…………

Wolves

Packs and packs of them

You’re worried for your life what if a wolf is gonna attack you one day since you’re right next to their habitat!!!!!

Your grandpa is just like lmao y/n chill i was a hunter back in the days we’ll be fine

It was a chillier day than usual in the winter and temperatures were dramatically dropping

You were tired of being cooped up in the small little house so you were just roaming around in front of your porch and playing with the fluffy snow

You smol child were too busy cutely hopping around to notice a wolf lurking behind the trees oH SNAP

It wasn’t until it got a little closer that you felt a strange presence and you know that eery feeling in the horror movies where it’s like …..i feel like someone is there…..

You immediately stopped and cautiously looked around you

You would have missed it if you weren’t so keen about your surroundings bc the wolf so easily blended in with the forest and snow

yOU WERE GONNA SCREAM BUT dude they can probably smell fear that’s not your best choice here

your heart leapt in your throat so you couldn’t have screamed even if you wanted to (you did)

Gdi your grandpa was out running errands and he left like half an hour ago so you’re kinda screwed!!!

The wolf looked so,,, ethereal and majestic with its mix of black, gray, and white fur and it was still pretty young

It looked more like a wild husky so beautiful i love dogs

But you obviously didn’t have time to soak in their beauty you were about to get eaten for pete’s sake

You were very very very slowly backing away from it your door was only a few steps away

buT IT KEPT INCHING TOWARDS YOU LIKE PLS LEAVE ME ALONE ALL YOU WANTED WAS TO MAKE A SNOWMAN (it doesn’t have to be a snowman im sorry that joke is old)

You decided that maybe since this winter was harsher than normal it was hard finding food

So once your back hit the wall yOU SLAMMED & LOCKED THAT SHIT

You rummaged through your fridge to see if you could find absolutely anything for the wolf to leave you tf alone

“Aha!” you grabbed a piece of red meat and cut up a fourth of it into smaller chunks

You were pretty damn smart like we’re talking about how a pre teen be doing all of this

You brought your cutting board to your window and sure enough the wolf was still outside your house yiKES

You cautiously opened your window and you could see the little ears perking up

You threw the pieces as far as it could reach the wolf in the hopes of him leaving once he’s gathered his meal

At first the wolf jumped back in surprise like ??? what’s this human doing?????

After a few minutes of inspecting the meat the wolf cautiously approached the makeshift meal and started to gobble all of it in seconds flat

You’re just like,,,,,,,,,,,,,, that could have been me oh my god,,,,,,,,,,

After it finished eating it looks back up to you and even from afar you can see gratitude and hints of,,,, sorrow??? in its eyes

It turns back to the forest and disappears as fast as it came

All your little body can do is slump against the door clutching your beating heart like i WAS GONNA DIE TODAY

You thought that would be the last time you were gonna encounter a wolf but there wouldn’t be a plot then lmao

You managed to prevent any more wolf encounters as you grew up and by the time you hit 20 you have been successful

But all good things must come to an end

You decided to go to a college nearby to still help take care of your aging gramps but the school isn’t all half bad it’s pretty decent so good for you reader!!

It was now winter break aka the longest school holiday your college granted you with so you decided to return home and spend some Quality Time with your grandpa

Your grandpa’s health has been declining more apparently than ever

One time you had to rush him to the hospital because he fell unconscious and you were trying so hard not to tear up and be strong the whole time

You stayed overnight at the hospital despite the nurse insisting you return home but you just camped outside the hospital room and slept there

You woke up to a random blanket on you and you figured it was just a nurse who knew better than to convince you

Your grandpa quickly recovered in a matter of days go gramps

When he was finally discharged and you were approaching the front desk about the bill they were like “oh it’s already been paid for”

“What that’s strange I didn’t even get the bill yet”

“Someone walked in last night and said they’ll take care of it for you miss”

You thank her and walk away in confusion like,,,, ofc you’re grateful that you didn’t have to pay but who on earth would do that?????

One day you wanna explore the forest because i mean you lived next to it for basically almost your entire life and you don’t even know what it looks like!

Ofc your grandpa is like do you wanna get killed child um

“Pls gramps I lived my whole life being terrified of that forest and now that I’m older I kinda want to see what it looks like,,,, I’ll stay close enough to have the house in my view!”

“sigh,,,, well you’re an adult now I trust that you can make decisions for yourself so,,,, fine”

So off you go to your death exploring

You’re amazed by how enchanting the forest looks like from within, nothing like what you see from your house

The snow only adds more of a magical sense

There’s a small pond and some bushes where you guess is the deer’s habitat but they probably left to find a warmer spot

You push yourself to discover more about the forest so you inch just a litttttle farther

You see a bridge and think ????? did someone live here or something why is there a bridge?????

And being the curious cat you are you crossed it only to see aNOTHER HOUSE LIKE UM WHO THE

you hear some muffled talking and you’re just likE OH CRAP I GOTTA SCRAM so you hide behind a fairly big trunk just in time before some faces are in your view

You see a group of men around the same age as you and at first they seem to be normal but what’s normal about living in the middle of the woods????

You carefully eye each of them, and you mentally do a headcount of 13

One of them immediately catches your eye and you can’t help but feel a sense of familiarity

He’s wearing a gray turtleneck and black skinny jeans with a gray winter coAT SLJDKFLJDSFLJFDSLJFDLJDFSJDSF I LOVE WONWOO THE MODEL

He seems to be aware of you and he’s like @ the group

“Guys… do you sense someone here?”

And you’re like oH NO MY COVER IS BLOWN ABOR T M I SS ION

And the guys are like eh wonwoo you’re probably being a little paranoid

“Wonwoo it’s been years just let it GO!!!” (what’s up with all of these frozen puns this is unintentional i sTG!!!!) “the last time you said this it was just a rabbit!”

And you’re like ???? what do they mean by that buT I GOTTA JET

You wait for them to enter the house and wonwoo is the last one

He scans the area one more time and does a little head shake before heading inside

you can’t help but feel a tug in your heart because he just looked so disheartened and dejected

And he sWEARS he could have smelled your scent but maybe it was his brain tricking him like it did all these years :(((

Who hURT MY EMO SON wait you did indirectly lmao

You get tf out of there like “i aint trying to die again bye yall”

You’re scrambling to get out of there and when you reach the house your gramps is like so how did it go

“uM I HAVE HOMEWORK TO DO BYE”

Gramps: but??? it’s ,,,, break,,,,,,

You contemplate about what just happened back there

You: i shouldn’t go back i got lucky and didn’t get eaten alive

Also you: but i need to find out more ok it’s settled I will return

Soon enough you found yourself visiting the same place every day and now wonwoo is rEALLY on edge

“gUYS DON’T YOU SENSE IT WHAT THE HECK”

“wonwoo…….. We acknowledge your senses are the better ones out of us but…… you need to let her go”

You’re like omg what??? Her??? Who’s her?????

“You know I can’t do that…… she fed me -- hey wait a minute, is that someone over there?”

OOOHH FUCKKKKK

You’re like oH WELL FUCK MY LIFE

They whirl around to where his finger is pointing and they’re like hmm wait he’s right it looks like someone’s shadow

“COME OUT WHOEVER YOU ARE”

And you’re scared to literally freaking death bc you are not trying to get yourself killed but i mean you kinda had to see it coming tho

So you do what a reasonable person would

RUN

“hEY WHO ARE YOU”

But you just keep running and you eventually get lost in the forest and you’re like oh my god pLS NOT NOW

You’re desperately trying to reroute but you’re pretty sure you passed by that same stump six times

You try to calm down like ok look it’s still probably around noon and the sun is still out you still have time

That is until you hear a crunch of a leaf

And you’re like oH MY GOD NOW WHAT

You turn around to see you’re surrounded by dark black wolves

This is it this is where you die

And you’re trying to find an escape but you’re practically cornered

“Please….. Go find something else to devour……. I swear I am not tasty at all…………… I’m all bones you wouldn’t want that right aHAHA………...”

One of them inches closer to you and you can guess it’s probably the alpha male since it seems to be the biggest

And you’re like welp i lived a good life IM S ORRY GRAMPS YOU WERE RIGHT

You’re in the middle of having a mental breakdown when the alpha suddenly bares his teeth and you know it’s gonna go down

Just as it’s about to leap on you, you see another blurry figure slAMMING INTO THE ALPHA

A full on wolf battle is going on right in front of you

Not only did that wolf come but his entire pack did so it’s pack vs pack

And some black wolves are still trying to get @ you ;))) to devour you ;)))

I gotta go

But obv the other pack is like dON’T TOUCH HER and you’re super confused bc 

Well there’s obviously more than one thing to be confused about but your main concern is why am I not getting eaten??????

You can’t help but notice the one who rammed his body in your attacker has very,,,, familiar looking fur,,,,,,

And you’re like oMG NO,,,, NO IT CAN’T BE HOW

Since the wolf brawl has temporarily taken the focus off of you, you’re like ok this is my chance 2 escape

You don’t get too far like probably 15 feet when you’re feeling really lightheaded and nauseous

You stumble upon a tree and try to steady yourself but the events took a huge toll on you and so you collapse

Right before you do you feel someone’s arms holding your waist up and some yelling

“I… finally…. found you….” you hear someone whisper in your ear before you really blackout

By the time you regain consciousness the sun is about to set

You’re stirring around in a foreign bed and you’re like wait,,,, hold on,,,,,

Your eyes slowly adjust to the dim light and the strange room

You’re fully awake now and start panicking like where am i???? Am i gonna die?????

You see someone’s head on the edge of the bed and you’re like WHO THE

“oH GOODNESS” your little outburst woke him up

He groggily yawns and rubs his eyes “oh great you’re awake!!!!!11!!11”

You just stare at him in 34384682 emotions welling inside of you like pls do not hurt me i just want 2 go hOmE!!!

He starts to introduce himself as Wonwoo but who cARES YOU JUST WANNA GO HOME

“Ok Wonwoo i have no idea who you are or where I am but I need to leave before I’m actually gonna get killed by my grandpa I appreciate you letting me stay here for the time being but I gotta go now thanks i guess??? bye”

And you’re trying to keep your cool and escape as fast as you can but he’s right on your heels

He is nOT gonna let you leave so easily after spending the past decade thinking about you

You reach the outside of the house and you realize,,,, hey it’s the house i saw earlier,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,

He eventually reaches you and pulls you around by the arm and you almost gasp when you see the intense look he has in his eyes

“I,,, can’t let you leave just yet”

“Please i’m sorry for snooping earlier!!! Please let m eg o I swear to keep my distance!!!!”

“tHAT’S THE THING I DON’T WANT YOU TO KEEP YOUR DISTANCE”

You: what

Him: what

“What…. did you say?”

“Don’t you remember me? You fed me”

And you’re like ?????????? ?? ???????  what is this guy on

“Uh… Wonwoo, was it? I think you have the wrong person; I don’t know what you’re--”

And it hits you

That day you thought you were gonna die

You look at him completely baffled like how is that even possible???? That was,,,, a wolf

Your breath is hitching you’re gonna faint again that means he was the same one who saved you from being eaten

“I know it’s hard to believe but that was me!!!!! Food was extremely difficult to find at that time and when I saw you…. Well, i was hoping you would be willing to spare me something”

My heart poor little wonu was gonna starve to death if it weren’t for you

“But…. but how….”

“Ah…. well that’s a story for later but the important thing is I was eternally grateful to you and I was determined to find you again,,,, I wanted to return the favor for saving me. Who do you think paid off your grandpa’s medical bills? I hope that blanket was warm enough for you”

YOU’RE FLIPPING OUT LIKE HOW DID HE

Turns out he’s been watching you from afar as his human form as your little guardian angel (or stalker…. tbh) im crying

“You were thankful just for some pieces of meat I gave out?”

“It wasn’t just some meat. You saved me from dying! I hadn’t had any food in my system for a week. I’ve helped your grandpa plenty of times at the market before. I also purchased those textbooks you needed for that math class”

“Wait but my friend gave those to me?”

“Yeah well that’s what I told her to say to you LOL”

gdi your friend was probably geeking out about how good looking he was

And you’re just trying to process this but it’s overwhelming to say the least

“You… you did all of that for me???”

And he’s like ofc!!! :DDD you deserve everything and more!!!!

And you’re like oH MY GOD DID I JUST DIE AND SEE AN ANGEL

“What about that pack from earlier?”

“That’s our rival pack,,,,, I’m so sorry you had to get caught up in our rivalry but good thing I got there in time. I told the others to help protect you”

And you start tearing up because of how gracious and humble and caring he is and he’s like oh nononono and starts to freak out and hugs you

You’re gonna bAWL why is this guy so nice to you he’s even rubbing circles on your back to help calm you down

“I’m not asking much of you…. but can we try getting to properly know each other? You were the only single person to not judge me in my wolf form,,,,, everyone else would throw sticks and stones :(((“ (words do indeed hurt you tho) “and i’m also grateful that you were able to accept me even as a creature that you feared”

you take a moment to breathe and eventually accept bc even tho this is all so sudden and foreign you can just tell he has a heart of gold and doesn’t wanna hurt you

Ofc your gramps throws a fit when you get home and he’s like wHY IS THIS GUY WITH YOU

After a long long talk things are settled and your gramps is like ok fine you can date her or whatever but one wrong move and your head is gonna be hanged here

“gRANDPA WE’RE NOT DATING (yet)!!!!”

“I’m just saying i got my eye on you boy”

You spend the rest of your break getting to really know Wonwoo and try to overlook his,,, alter ego thing,,,, as best as you can

You’re outside making snowmen and snow angels and just being so carefree about everything

You somehow end up in a snowball fight with wonwoo and he’s like ur going down!!11!!

You’re hiding behind a tree and peek out to find him but when all of a sudden someone ambushes you from behind

“I GOT YOU” he screams in your ear while you’re laughing and trying to wiggle out of his arms

You guys stumble and fall with him on top of you oHMYGOHDGHLGDS

Your laughter dies down a little and all you can think about is how close your faces are

He softly smiles at you and leans down to give you your firST KISS IM SCREAMING

“HEY KIDS WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING”

“gRANDPA STOP”

[itsclydebitches]

Kind of an odd request probably but I like the way you write. A lot. The voices of the characters are so believable. There's a song called "Weeds or Wildflowers" by Parsonfields I think suits Cass and Jesse. Give it a listen and see if you write anything inspired by it? It's cool if not. 💜 I'll always keep reading.

Summary: As kids Jesse and Tulip find something living out in the woods. It calls itself Cassidy. It likes blood and cheap candy. Jesse wants to take it home with him.

Fandom: Preacher

Words: 2,762

Warnings: Blood, feeding 

Pairings: Kid fic so no real pairings, but hinted Jesse/Cass 

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 highly recommended for formatting) 

Erode From Day to Day 

They were so close; so very close to freedom. All the tiny feet clad in sneakers were poised like runners beneath their desks. Arms were straining, hands gripped tight to the edge of their seats, and not a single eye dared to stray from the clock. The only movement was the sneaky packing going on, slow as molasses—impatience lengthening those last five seconds as Mr. Rogan’s eyes narrowed.

“Hey, squirts, hey,” he said. “Settle down now. It’s not the weekend just yet—”

The bell made a liar out of him. The normally shrill annoyance might as well have been a call to arms given how quickly everyone was up and out the door. Mr. Rogan tried valiantly to remind them of the math homework due Monday, problems one through fifteen, but it mostly fell on deaf ears. There was a mob making for the bright, sunny afternoon and nothing could stop them.

Especially not with Jesse Custer leading the charge.

“Swing set!” he called and half the class cheered in response. The others had already turned towards the main doors, looking for parents and guardians to take them home, but Jesse’s group made a sharp right, pushing out onto the playground and flying over the wood-chips. They held tight to their backpack straps, bodies bent in an attempt to gain speed. They were sweaty, multi-colored blurs under the 3:00pm sun.

Past the jungle gym and around the sandbox. The swing set was in sight now—Jesse could nearly feel the hot metal under his palm—when, suddenly, a darker hand came out of nowhere to slap it first.

“Fucking O’Hare,” a kid said in a rare display of true cursing. Everyone collapsed as one, hands on their knees as they tried to get their breath back.

Tulip stood tall though. Her hand was already out and demanding the usual fare. Slowly, the other kids began pulling candy and knick-knacks out of their bags, handing them over. Grudgingly.

“You were closest to the door,” Simon grumbled, knowing the complaint wouldn’t do him any good. Tulip just shrugged.

“And I was all the way in the back last week in Ms. Julie’s class and I still won then. Not my fault all you idiots are so slow.” She wiggled her fingers. Simon deposited a half eaten Milky Way in her palm. “Thank you,” and with a vicious kick Tulip sent up a cloud of dust that had everyone else running, cutting across the playground to the cul-de-sac where parents were waiting to yell at them for being late.

Jesse scowled, threading a hand through the back of his hair. “You always win.”

“Turtle,” Tulip said, poking him in the chest. She started jogging in place. “Cheetah.”

“Yeah well c’mon, wasn’t there something about slow and steady?”

Jesse bent on one knee to pick up all the stuff Tulip was starting to drop. He nearly fell backwards when she bent too and just shoved it all into his arms.

“You can have it,” she said. “I’ve still got all that loot from Maya’s birthday party and besides, aren’t you going to see Him?”

Tulip said Him will all the gravity that a middle schooler could imbue in a word. It was grandiose and inexplicable, like all the years’ snow days rolled into one. Or winning relay day for your whole grade.  Or even finding that shiny, glimmering rock outside and just knowing it was treasure. It was all those things and more, smushed together and made into a person. Something like a person, anyway.

Jesse wouldn’t even think to disagree.

And he could see how Tulip’s hands shook as she re-wrapped the packet of Twizzlers. She wanted to go so badly.

“You went yesterday,” Jesse reminded her.

“I know.”

For a brief moment she bit her lip and Jesse realized, instinctually, that she was thinking about similarities between the three of them: dead parents, dead mom... dead existence. They didn’t really know how to deal with any of that. But they were kids, so they dealt anyway.

“I’ll tell your dad you had to stay behind and clean the chalkboards again, k?”

“K,” Jesse said and they shook on it, three slaps that ended in them linking fingers, pushing and pulling a bit before finishing with a fist-bump. They hauled themselves to their feet and Jesse crammed everything into his backpack.

“Careful,” Tulip said, already jogging away.

Jesse just flapped a hand at her back. “Never!”

She threw out a messy thumbs up. Always needed to have the last word.

Hauling himself in the opposite direction Jesse took off at a run, knowing that he only had so much time when he could be ‘cleaning chalkboards’ before Dad got suspicious. He took only a moment to make sure none of the teachers were sneaking out the back before jumping the small fence surrounding the playground. He landed in the soft dirt of a graveyard.

It wasn’t common, but sometimes people moved to Annville and when they did they had kids to put into the only school—and when they did that the parents inevitably balked at their angels playing next to the dead. Jesse had always liked it though: watching the tombstones crumble and the weeds grow taller each and every year, reading the strange first names attached to the surnames he’d grown up with; digging for bones, risking both the teachers' ire and some sort of ancient curse for disturbing the dead.

Except Jesse never thought of that as a bad thing. If he was dead he’d want someone to disturb him. Wasn’t that more exciting?

"Did you crawl out of the graveyard?"

"What graveyard?"

"The one back there. At the school."

"Nu uh, padre. Never been buried."

"...do you want to be?"

"Why the hell would I want that?"

"You’re dead aren’t you?"

“…am I?”

Jesse drew his hand over the last headstone for something like luck, plunging into the tree-line. It was the only ‘forest’ that he’d ever seen, but he knew it was paltry compared to other parts of the world, the desert encroaching even here and leaving patches of dry, dusty earth amongst the trees. There was enough brush to darken the sky though—hide things that needed hiding—and it took Jesse long, precious minutes to find the path again, finally distinguishable by the empty bag of Cheetos he’d brought last time. With that familiar route under his feet he made good time. He broke into a grin when he found the log.

“Cass,” he whispered, and an ethereal head popped out from the rotten wood.

It had startled Jesse the first time he’d seen it, that pale, bedraggled face; hair matted every which way with mud and leaves. It was something straight out of the B horror movies he and Tulip had snuck into last summer, telling his Dad that they were at the school’s kiddie camp, the kiddie camp that they were helping Dad with the church, and the lazy teenager managing the ticket booth that they’d just forgotten Tulip’s sweater from the previous film. No one ever bothered to check any of those stories.

The movies gave him nightmares, but of course Jesse never told. A month ago he had gone exploring, half to tell himself that there was nothing out there in the woods to scare him... and he'd been proven really, really wrong.

He’d wet himself a little, the first time he’d seen that face.

Now the face was just Cass. He clamored out of the hollow trunk, jeans stiff with grime and a once white shirt long gone grey. For a moment they just stood and stared at one another. Then Cass lifted his head and sniffed the wind like a dog.

“Hiya, Padre,” he said. He didn't blink.

“I’m not a ‘padre’ yet,” Jesse grumbled and began obediently rolling up the sleeve of his shirt. He’d learned quick that it was always better after this. Whatever parts of Cass were scary tended to leave after he’d fed. He was more Cass like... and for that Jesse was willing to pretend that the feeding wasn’t scary all on its own.

Still, he gave an involuntary cry when Cass materialized before him, seeming to move from There to Here with nothing more than a faded blur. Cass did that a lot. Jesse might have thought he was a ghost if he didn’t know better. But oh, he really did.

“Here,” Jesse said, extending his bare arm. Needing no further encouragement Cass latched on, biting deep into the tissue and hovering there, sucking in quick, jerky gulps. Jesse stared open-mouthed at the display. It hurt of course—fuck how it hurt—but this time, like every time, the pain was overshadowed by watching Cass move like a machine; like some horrible puppet twitching on a Master’s strings. It was only when he’d gotten a good number of mouthfuls down that his swaying grew natural, more human-like, and something similar to a blush crawled up into his cheeks. His animal chittering gave way to the happy hums of a kid just being a kid as he enjoyed dessert—and still Jesse stared.

“You’re hurting me!” he shrieked, the thing pinning him to the ground and taking directly from his neck. Jesse got a knee up into his groin—which did absolutely nothing—and grabbed for a loose branch instead, knocking the thing off his chest and into the weeds. It sprawled there, raving and wild until Jesse managed to raise the crucifix he wore around his neck.

A switch flipped. The monster blinked. It smiled.

"...do you really think that's gonna do somethin'?"  

Jesse wouldn’t truly feel the pain until he was back home hours later, with his sleeve pulled down low and lies slipping through his teeth about where he’d been.

Except... this night he wouldn’t be lying. At least he hoped not. Jesse hadn’t told Tulip, but he wanted to bring Cass home with him today. Wanted to grab this strange, frightening thing and drag him straight to their church, praying only that he wouldn’t light up in flames along the way. Jesse would hide Cass beneath his bed every night and whisper any bad dreams he had. He'd sleep easier knowing that at least one monster there was his friend.

“There are Twizzlers too,” he said, like this was any sort of normal conversation. For them it kind of was. Cass finished up with a saner look in his eye, careful to lick away the stray runs of blood curling around Jesse’s arm. They still left rusty rings though. Bracelets he was proud of. When Cass stepped back (feet bare, cold looking) Jesse immediately dumped the loot out between them.

Kit-Kat, Twizzlers, the half eaten Milky Way, and a crushed bag of chips from lunch. There was an equally smashed paper airplane and a yo-yo with a fraying string. Cass poked at it, watching it roll lopsided through the dirt.

“We used to have these too,” he said and Jesse—

“Where are you from?”

Cass stared and grinned until Jesse got it.

“When are you from?”

“When is this?”

“2017.”

He let out a whistle as high and eerie as the wind through a keyhole. “Then I’m old, padre. I’ve got 120 years on you.”

Jesse wondered then how he’d done the math that fast. Jesse needed to know if that was true. Jesse had conflicting thoughts that Cass was both young and old and Jesse—

—knew better than to ask.

“You can have it all,” he said, feeling like those words somehow meant more, as if he hadn’t already brought a fool’s worth of treasure for Cass to play with. It was all piled up in that rotten log, the only things that felt real and tangible around her. Cass himself was sort of smudgy around the edges, like a picture someone got sick of drawing halfway through.

He worked methodically through the offerings though. Because wasn’t that what they were? Jesse had wandered into these woods and found something immense there... and he’d been offering up tributes ever since. Cass fiddled with the yo-yo a little more. He placed the paper airplane in one of the few strands of sunlight that broke through their canopy, inching it there with all the delicacy of a tightrope walker. When he got to the Milky Way he crammed it all at once into his mouth, eyes suddenly blowing wide.

“That good?” Jesse asked.

Cass grinned with caramel teeth. “Yeah. Sure. But there’s blood in it too,” and his eyes went wild again, edging the tattered bite on Jesse’s arm.

And the pain was there: a sharp throb that had him tugging at his sleeve.

Because Jesse remembered what Cass was talking about. Simon had pricked his finger on a picnic table splinter today, the piece of wood going sideways and causing a tiny spout of blood. It had dripped onto his sandwich—two red drops on white bread that made all the kids shriek in disgust—and it had apparently gotten in his chocolate too.

That was what got Jesse to move; the idea of Cass tasting someone else’s blood. Not his. Not Tulip’s. Fucking Simon's.

With a growl he leaned forward and snatched the Twizzlers out of Cass’ hand, mind too wooly to appreciate the surprised, human expression that flit across his face. Settling back in the dirt Jesse pulled out his switchblade with the same jerky movements and drew it sloppily over his arm.

It hurt enough to make the backs of his teeth ache, but who the hell cared? His arm was already a bruised, bloody mess from these daily meetings, and wasn’t it worth it to see that look creeping into Cass’ eyes?

A fool might have called it hunger. Jesse knew it was something closer to love.

“Here,” he said, dipping a Twizzler into the fresh blood and tossing it casually Cass’ way. Like you’d throw a friend a beer. Like you’d scoop cheese onto those fancy crackers. What they had was no different—except that it was better—and Jesse preened a little at seeing Cass gobble him up in two quick bites.

“You’re like a dog!” Jesse howled, amazed and disgusted when Cass relieved himself too close to his boots.

He laughed crazily. “I’m more dangerous than any dog!”

“You’re insatiable,” he said, here and now, and Cass laughed again (was always laughing), his matted hair flying in front of his eyes.

“Tulip teach you that word?”

“Book did. Tulip teaches me four letter words.”

Laughter, longer and louder and Jesse tossed him more blood-coated Twizzlers. He coated all the food in a thin layer of blood until it was gone and then Jesse stood, backlit by the tree’s shadows and feeling uncommonly nervous.

“C’mon,” he said.

Because this is what they did now. He came, Cass drank, he offered things and then he left. There was some boundary between Annville and Cass’ little world that had nothing to do with tree lines or cemetery markers. He didn’t need Jesse’s blood with all the critters about—but he preferred it. He didn’t need cheap candy and toys either—but took them ravenously.

Jesse didn’t need to pull Cass over to his side of the line—but he’d do it anyway.

He held out a hand and Cass just sat there, a mangy cat licking something from the back of his arm. When he was done (tongue papery white, almost iridescent in the red of his mouth) he looked at everything but Jesse before landing his eyes on a small crop of weeds. Cass tugged two out, heedless of the thorns.

“Here,” he said, slapping them into Jesse’s palm. He left his hand there too and hauled himself up. “You gotta protect me from the sun, padre.”

“Told you I’m not a ‘padre.'" Jesse's chest was ballooning up.

“And takin’ me in? Now you probably never will be.”

Maybe it was a lie, maybe not. Either way, Jesse tugged his shirt off and drew it over Cass’ head. He give him too-big boots to protect his feet and they set off together, the half mile to the church feeling unnaturally long.

“Who are you?” Jesse whispered in the dirt, dimly aware that he wasn’t nearly as afraid as he should be.

The monster shrugged. “Cassidy. But... whaddya need me to be?”

Jesse wasn’t sure yet. Something more than this.

On their way out he brushed the bouquet of weeds over the last gravestone. For luck.

Fin.  

[lydia--argent]

Clear Skies

A Fallout: New Vegas fic, because I’m apparently doing that now! Takes place, both in the story and in my life, after finishing Dead Money.

 Cat-Courier Six, Cass, ED-E

Cat can’t see much around her. Some distant part of her brain drags up the phrase ‘tunnel vision,’ but all Cat can do is turn off the radio. The voice echoes in her ears, and the quiet solitude of the bunker is welcome and overwhelming.

She doesn’t remember stumbling to a cot, but that’s where she wakes up – surrounded by spare parts and the smell of old chemicals, a ragged Brotherhood insignia hanging from the wall. This must have been Elijah’s base at some point, if the crazy engineer vibe and Sierra Madre machine are anything to go by. Cat takes a long moment to scream, loud and long, kicking the vending machine as hard as she can. It’s annoyingly sturdy.

She’d lost track of time under the cloud. Winding streets, chronic poisoning, too little sleep and too many stimpacks made the hours blend together. Cass and ED-E are gone, though. That’s a first step.

All her old gear is at the top of the stairs in a jumbled pile. Cat upends her bag, chips and packaged food and ammo spilling out onto the floor. Most of it gets shoved into the footlocker – if she never sees a Sierra Madre logo or boxed mac and cheese again, it’ll be too soon, but the bunker’s close to the river. Having a stash here isn’t the worst idea. The guns she packs more carefully, on top and ready to grab.

The Gauss rifle she takes with her, and Vera’s dress. Not as if Cat has anywhere to wear it, but hiding it away underground, by the Sierra Madre trap, feels wrong. She folds it carefully. After a few long moments of thinking, she also brings the bear trap fist after wiping away the worst of the ghost fluids. It’s weird and it’s nasty, and Cass’ll get a kick out of it.

The gold bars still shine, three rescued from the epic cave-in. Their luster against the dull gray and rust is beautiful, and almost feels ridiculous. Like waking up in an untouched, opulent building, still glittering from the past.

Unfortunately, they’re also heavy as shit, it’s a damn trek to the Outpost, and Cat’s lungs are still kind of hurting. She hides two of them among the trash and crosses her fingers.

To her vague surprise, it’s dark out in the Mojave. Every time she’d thought of it over the last… however many days, the sun was beating down, hot and clean. She shrugs and sets off, quiet and listening for night stalkers.

The stars are bright and keep her heading west and south. Cat had been navigating by the sky before she ever got her hands on a Pip-Boy, and the haze covering the Villa had been almost as frustrating as the unending ghost people. Almost.

Slowly, the stars dim, the sky lightens, and Cat sits down on top of a small hill to watch. The rising sun hits her face, and the desert lights up. A breeze kicks up, and Cat can smell dirt and cactus and, well, toxic waste, but the kind she’s used to. She breathes for a moment more, then keeps walking.

*

The door slams open, bringing in sand and a weirdo in old-school black and yellow armor. Cass’ hand goes to her pistol, even though the odds of her hitting a target at 3 pm these days aren’t great.

The weirdo pulls their reflective helmet off, and Cat is staring right back at Cass, and she looks – honestly, really shitty. Something greasy and caustic-looking is all over her skin and her nerdy-ass armor, she’s gripping that helmet too hard, and her eyes are shadowed and darting around even if they do keep coming back to Cass. No one moves until Lacey lets out a long, low whistle.

“Long time, no see,” Cass says, and damnit, her voice is thick, and she has to blink a little water out of her eyes. She sort of regrets the last six drinks.

Apparently, it does the trick, stupid sappy tears and all. Cat drops the helmet, crashes into and then on the bar stool next to Cass, and grumbles “I hate being abducted.”

She smells like acid and sour sweat, and now that she’s close Cass can see that her eyes are bloodshot.

Cass manages to get out a grin and teases, “We can always keep you on a leash,” but hesitates when Cat flinches. Cat doesn’t flinch, that’s not a thing. “Or, y’know, just stop pissing people off.”

“You know I can’t do that,” Cat says, recovering a bit of a composure and stealing a sip of Cass’ whiskey. Not for the first time, and Cass is slapping at Cat’s hand and grabbing for the bottle almost before she realizes what’s happening.

Cat’s the only person who can take Cass’ drink and come away with her nose intact. This time, Cass doesn’t even put up much of a fight for it. She asks Lacey for all the water in the bar while Cat takes a long pull from the bottle.

“How long was I gone for?” she asks.

Lacey answers first. “Long enough for this one to almost drink us out of business,” she says, putting a tall class in front of Cass. “Watching her pass out mid-afternoon is getting’ boring.”

“Not sure,” Cass shrugs. “There was an explosion, and by the time I woke up, you were gone. Been here since then. Few days, maybe a week.”

“Fuck,” Cat says, which just about sums it up. “Ready to get out of here?”

It’s one of the things Cass loves about Cat – the restlessness, the total inability to stay in one place longer than it takes to heal up and resupply. But most of the time, Cat doesn’t look like she’s about to snap and keel over at the same time.

“Not when you smell like you just crawled out of a toxic waste heap,” Cass says. “And what the hell is that armor? You look like a bumblebee.”

Cat looks down at herself and snorts. “Well, shit. You’re not wrong. Hey, Lace,” she says, “mind if I use the showers?”

“Oh, I insist,” Lacey says.

Cat pushes herself to her feet, tries to wipe some of the weird red residue from the stool, and just manages to smear it around.

“I’ll take care of it,” Lacey says, exasperated and shooing Cat out of the bar. “Get gone.”

Cat puts her hands up, showily not touching anything, and makes for the showers. “Hey,” Cass calls out. Cat turns around at the door, an eyebrow raised. “Missed you, C.”

The corner of Cat’s mouth turns up. “You too.”

“Aw,” Lacey coos, once Cat’s out of earshot. “Maudlin drunk’s a new look on you.”

“Shut it,” Cass says, finishes her water, and puts her head down on the bar for a quick nap.

*

“We gotta go to Prim, pick up ED-E,” Cat says. She still stalks the busted roads like she owns them, back in her worn leather armor, but her stride is a little slower. Cass doesn’t know if anyone else would even notice. “Then I need to go yell at McNamara.”

“For the NRC? The Brotherhood starting some shit again?”

“No.” Cat’s forehead creases. “I mean, I also have some news for him, but he’s the closest person responsible. So there’s gonna be a little yelling.”

Responsible for what? But Cat talks around campfires, not on the road. Too many years crossing the desert solo, Cass guesses. It took some getting used to, coming from caravan life, and Cass not being the most introspective of people. But it’s familiar now.

They camp just outside Primm. The fire crackles gently, cooking some gecko they’d shot earlier. They set up their bedrolls, and ED-E beeps quietly while watching the perimeter. It sounds pleased, maybe, but Cass is probably just projecting.

Once they settle in, have some food, get comfy next to the dying flames, Cat looks steadier but still ready to pass out for about twelve hours. Cass almost hates to ask the question that’s been burning in her throat all day, but she’s never been good at the whole subtle, tip-toe act.

“What the fuck happened to you?

Cat groans, “Any chance I can sleep for a day instead?”

“I’m not gonna stop you,” Cass says, a little stung.

“You don’t need to be watching our backs,” Cat says, like that’s the problem with this whole fucked-up situation. “Any more than usual, anyway. Took care of it.”

“Never doubted it. You still seem real spooked, though.”

Cat sighs, and she’s staring at something Cass Can’t see. “It’s just super fucked up. I don’t wanna talk about it yet.” Cass leans in and presses her shoulder to Cat’s, who relaxes just a little. “Later, though.”

“Thanks,” Cass says, awkwardly, but grateful all the same. Cat had vanished right in front of her, another thing ripped out from under Cass’ feet. She’d come back, though: even more kinds of recalcitrant and messed up, but still Cat.

“Brought this back for you,” Cat says, and hands over a bottle full of something thick and reddish. Cass unscrews the top and takes a whiff.

“Holy shit,” she says, rubbing her nose and holding the bottle at arm’s length while Cat laughs quietly. “Packs a punch?”

“Oh yeah. Save it for when you need it.”

The peeling label reads, in Cat’s all-caps scribble, “Sierra Madre Cocktail.” Cass tucks it away, settles down for the night, and sleeps better than she has in a week.

[gravitren]

Chipping away at a somewhat lengthy BBKaz (eventually VKaz and later SoliMiller) fic so I figured I could share the first portion of it (which is BBKaz). Feedback always appreciated! NSFW

Their first time had taken Miller by surprise. Not that the event had been completely unexpected by any means, but the fondness in Boss' touches had. Big Boss was many things. Exceptionally loyal to his cause, almost otherworldly powerful, and highly respected. Gentle didn't seem to fit anywhere in the equation between heated kisses and wandering hands, the faint hum of insects buzzing in the distance. But who could blame him? Miller had felt the tension between them when they'd first met in the sweltering Colombian rainforest, brought to his knees by an injury Boss himself had inflicted upon him. A bullet had pierced through just enough of his calf, causing Miller to collapse to the ground in startled pain. It was meant to incapacitate him. But certainly not to kill. It left him light headed and dizzy, his heart still pounding from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. The blood had begun pooling through Kaz's hand as he held tightly to the wound through heavily gritted teeth, watching as it trailed down his fingers before marking the dark foliage below. His aviators somewhat bent out of shape, slipping down his sweat-drenched face, chest heaving. Alone in the dim jungle face-to-face with the one and only Big Boss, his own men either dead or absent. He's slowly catching his breath, kneeling low in the undergrowth as Big Boss stands near, looking completely unphased from the entire ordeal.  Incredibly, he'd taken Kaz in, cleaned him up. Gave him shelter and food. Allowed him full access and freedom around his camp. It seemed strange that he'd insisted on Kaz's cooperation to join his unit. He'd been completely overwhelmed by his forces; what did Boss see in him, anyways? His attempted escape didn't fare him much better, either. Kaz was quick and nimble through the dark undergrowth, but more years of experience trudging through Tselinoyarsk's dark underbrush silently and efficiently were on Snake's side. He'd slammed into Kaz sharply, blindsiding him completely before locking his arms firmly around Kaz's throat, his own hands grappling at his heavy arms in vain attempt to free himself, the edges of his vision blurring slightly as he managed to choke out a few embarrassing pleas for mercy. If he'd been any more humiliated he may have considered letting Big Boss slit his throat and leave him for the local fauna to pick at his lifeless body. In the weeks to follow, a tenuous friendship had slowly bloomed between the two. He'd felt important. Needed. Useful. They'd spent a few nights alone together, drinking and debriefing on their latest job runs, Kaz's cheeks glowing from the liquor. Like so many other of his own men, Miller couldn't help but begin to feel a strong pang of admiration towards Big Boss. It had built up over time, a small fire burning low in his gut that he'd tried to ignore before it consumed him whole. Wild and unforgiving.  But there Boss was, easing him down and murmuring softly to Kaz in that deep, gravelled voice as he fucked into him steadily after careful and patient preparation, nearby kerosene lanterns illuminating the Boss' rugged features. Kaz had held on tightly the entire time, jaw clenching and breath hitching sharply each time Snake had slammed deep inside him, their bodies damp with sweat as they moved together feverishly in the dim lighting. Snake had cooly insisted that he take the lead rather than Miller that night. And all the nights that had followed thereafter. Those same roughly calloused hands that could swiftly bring a man to his knees and beg for their lives had brought Kaz to completion in a way he'd never felt, arching and screaming out as his own blunt fingernails left angry red marks down Snake's heavy frame.

[reclusive-nerd]

Working on a new fan fic! I hope to keep this going.

I'm gonna work on this new fanfiction, but I need motivation to keep going. All comments are appreciated and anything to help motivate me to keep going would be great. Let me know what y'all think. Here's the first chapter.

Obstacles

           Blue eyes looked out a small window, faded, dirty, but clear enough to see. The grass isn't green, there are spots of weeds and brown dying patches. The asphalt walkway is full of cracks and potholes, with a broken fence along one side. The cars in the parking lot to his left are run down and cheap, each one a little older then the next. The outside area on his right is in full sun with all of two picket tables and a single basketball hoop. Even the street leading to the parking lot is cracked, and run down. It's like the whole block is falling apart piece by piece like legos and everyone just seems to ignore it. This is the only place his family can afford though. Better something than nothing, as his family says all the time.

             He sighs, adjusting his seating position so he can wrap his arms around his legs. Letting his fingers fiddle with the plastic bracelet on his left wrist. His heels digging into the chair to keep from slipping.

              One more night. He tells himself. Just one more night, then I can go home. But is home really much better?

               “Hey Castiel,” a familiar voice comes from behind, Dr. Pamela, his most recent therapist. “I just wanted to check in on you before you're released.” Pamela sits down across from him, placing a clipboard on her lap.

               They sit in silence for a minute, looking out the window. “Castiel? I need you to talk. How do you feel about leaving?”

               “Grateful.” Cas says in a low growl.

               “I need more than one word answers honey.”

               “I just want to go home. Get out of here.”

               “Okay. But how do you feel getting released? You've made great progress, it very well could be the last time you have to be here.”

               Cas just chuckles a little and shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

               “Why's that Castiel?” Pamela sighs.

               “Because.. I've been this way for so long I never thought I'd make it this far.”

               Pamela just stares at him, waiting for him to continue.

               “In high school I… I just didn't think I'd still be here, alive, at this point. So I never made any future plans. Never tried to prove myself or even pass my classes. So I have nothing. Nothing to show colleges what I can do, nothing to give me a future.” He looks at Pamela. “so what's to say I won't be right back here in a month?”

----------------‐----------------------‐----------------------

               Great, another job gone out the window because of his “attitude” and “lack of restraint”. This is bullshit. The customer was being rude, and was wrong about the price anyway, but was mostly just rude. Shit. He'd just finished training too.

                Dean walked down the street grumbling to himself, Jay walking to the store on the corner and nearly getting run over.

               “GET OUTTA THE ROAD IDIOT!” the driver yells out his window.

               “HEY UP YOURS ASSHOLE.” Dean yells back before returning to grumbling to himself.

               The bell on the doorframe jingles as he walks in, and he bumps into a cardboard display right inside the door. His foot kicks an empty box on the floor as he finds his favorite six pack of beer in the first aisle. Grabbing it by the plastic tie, and walking towards the counter, the cans hit the edge of the shelf as he turns. Placing the cans on the counter with a thump and throwing a bag of jerky on the counter with it.

             “You keep throwing shit around my store and I'll kick you out sooner or later.” The gruff voice comments before ringing up his items.

              Dean just groans in response.

             “Not even going to tell me what happened this time?”

              “Bobby… just… let me drink.”

              Bobby pauses, laying the scanner on the counter and crossing his arms. Not finishing the transaction.

               Dean sighs, knowing he wont get shit if he doesn't speak up. “Attitude problems and restraint. Just like the last two.”

                Bobby grumbles something under his breath before scanning his jerky and waving Dean's cash away. Dean doesn't even hesitate before shoving his money back in his pocket. He knows better than to fight with Bobby, he's too tired to care anyway. So he grabs his stuff and heads through the back hallway to the back door.

             The alleyway behind the store is empty and quiet. Dean and his brother set up cheap camping chairs here years ago. Each time Dean comes out, he's a little surprised they're still there. People in this dumb town will steal anything that's not tied down. But Dean's grateful, a little, to sit down in the worn out chair and just drink and smoke. He pulls out his cigarettes and lighter, placing them in the small drink holder in the chair. Grabbing a beer and cracking it open, he takes a swig and stares at the blank walls of other businesses.

              Smoking isn't good, neither is drinking, or eating the unhealthy plates of food Dean scarfs down in a single day. But at this point who cares? He doesn't have a future, he barely has a life. Why not smoke and drink what's left away? It won't matter in the long run. Sammy will be fine, Bobby will be fine, everyone would be just fine without him. Besides, he lost another job. What's to say he won't lose the next one? And be right back here where he ends up, each and every time.

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

        Cas only has a couple things that make him happy. One, obviously being the pills he has to take to be even remotely normal, two writing and reading, since they often go hand in hand, cas claims it as one together. Three, cooking. His family doesn't have much, but the here and there jobs Cas finds, he manages to pay for most of his own ingredients. Which is a welcome to Anna, who lives on soups and noodles when cas is away.

          But he feels bad leaving so often, his parents work the weird hours and they hardly ever see each other, least of all Anna. When Anna leaves for school, parents are just getting off work, and when she comes home, they're either sleeping their last free hours away or getting ready to leave for work again.

           So Castiel has become somewhat of a parental figure for Anna, when he is home of course. But Anna doesn't seem to mind, at least she doesn't show it, she catches him up on the high school drama and curricular activities as well as their parents' jobs. And cas listens. Stirring chili and rolling out cookie dough, he listens. To the petty problems of high school cas once was involved in. The who's who of what group and who told something to someone else. Or what teacher finally broke down and which kids got arrested recently. Its entertaining from the sidelines, and cas hopes Anna never gets dragged into it. It's a tough road to walk through.

            He can still remember when everyone found out he was gay. That's when things really went downhill. The name calling, the pushes, the literal and emotional beat downs. The subtle looks, the loud rejections. Even the teachers gave him side glances. It's unfortunate the world he's forced to live in, and the town he's forced to survive in. No ones exactly accepting here. There is a small LGBT+ group that meets up every month or so. But locations change because people protest their existence, and it's hard to find a contact. All the members that haven't been outed yet hide in shadows, and it takes a secret password and an undercover handshake to even talk to them. Slowly though.. slowly things are changing.

            The taxi that takes him home arrives in front and waits. Cas's eyes watch as the driver gets out and walks inside the main doors.

           10 seconds. 9. 8. 7. 6. 5. 4. 3. 2. 1. 0.

             Castiel Novak please report to front desk, it is time to go home. Congrats.

           Cas sighs and stands. Walking towards the desk on this floor. They hand him his notebook, his small backpack of stuff, and his latest batch of pills, all together in a sealed brown bag. The ladies smile and congratulate him on being released. He can only give a small smile in return.

           By the time Cas is home, he almost feels like he should be going back already. Like he has spent too much time in the outside world and needs to return to safety. But seeing Anna waiting by the front door makes the feeling subside for now. Anna smiles as Cas thanks the driver and starts walking toward the door.

          As usual, Anna gives him a big hug and checks his wrist for his bracelet.

          "Only two weeks this time." Anna sighs. "You must be doing better than. They're not being so cautious anymore."

           Cas nods, and they walk inside together. Anna grabs his stuff and runs it to his room, before coming back and giving him another hug.

           "You're going to stay this time right?" Anna asks, mumbling into his shoulder.

           "I'll try." Cas answers in a low tired voice.

           Anna squeezes a hug before letting go and taking his hand, leading him to the kitchen and sitting him down at the table.

            "I've been working on something. Stay here." Anna turns and opens the oven, the heat flying into the air for just a moment before Anna sets a small plate of cookies on the table beside Cas. "I made cookies, from scratch. They're just chocolate chip, but I found a simple recipe and meddled with it before ending on this. The ultimate chocolate chip cookie."

         Cas smiles, I real smile. His fingers pick one up and he takes a taste. He looks back at Anna, she stands there, her hands together in a silent hopeful prayer.

          "These are amazing Anna." He says.

          Anna jumps up and down with excitement clapping for herself. "Yay." Anna laughs.

          Cas can't help but laugh a little too. These cookies are bomb, and he doesn't hesitate to eat just a few more before heading to his room.

           He has to remind himself that he should stay, and build some sort of future for himself. He needs to study. He needs to go to school. Get a job. Do something with his life. For now though … he'll sleep. Real sleep, in his own bed, with his own smells and his own blankets. In peace.

    Cas dreamt of nature. Strangely, green fields over hills with bright blue skies. The wind in his hair and a hand on his back. But it wasn't his own. He couldn't see the face, he could only feel the hand on his back. It was comforting. Relaxing. He felt safe with this mystery hand steadying him. He felt like he could take on the world. Suddenly he faced a cliff. Looking out into the ocean that housed only a few ships. His toes hooked over the edge of the grass, feeling the rocks of a sudden drop down below to boulders. Boulders that created giant waves that washed against the bottom of the cliff. Fear set in. Something was telling him to go forward, to dive between the boulders into the water. To take the leap and the risk. But he couldn't. He closed his eyes. A hand weaved into his, lining up perfectly. A shoulder rested against his, and a pair of feet joined his on the edge. Cas opened his eyes and stared down at the boulders below. A moment ago he was scared and didn't want to jump. But now. A hand holding his, and another life to take the risk too. He didn't feel so afraid. He took a deep breath, and jumped. Diving into the water, but not alone. This other life jumped with him. Holding his hand all the way down.

Cas woke with a sense of relief and comfort. This other life is out there somewhere. He knows it. And his heart is telling him to search for it. So before his memory swipes away this dream, he takes out a notebook and writes. Every detail he can remember. Anything to help him find this other person. This amazing hand that held him and the ability to risk everything with him.