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dreamingofscully · 5 years ago

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The Wrong Side of the Bed

Rating: Explicit Length: 4427 words Classification: Established MSR, Slight angst, Season 7, Smut Exchange 2020 Summary: Smut Exchange 2020. Prompt from @crescentmoon223: After a frustrating day at the office, Scully gets bossy in the bedroom.

Notes: Thank you to my wonderful betas. @fragilevixenfic you are so quick, detailed and wonderful with your feedback. @AweburnPhoenix I loved the suggestions you made. @suitablyaggrieved I think you have beta’d every one of my fics and I am overwhelmed with your support and value your opinions on everything I create. Lastly, my good IRL friend who isn’t on tumblr/twitter made such an impact on my very first fic also looked over this one, and I am so so grateful. I could never have done it without you all!!!

READ THIS ON AO3.

“No I can’t wait until tomorrow, I need that file before noon.” A pause, her brow scrunches in a way that he has become intimately familiar with over their long partnership. “What do you mean, you don’t know where it is?”

Mulder cracks another sunflower seed and watches Scully surreptitiously from his desk. She’s near the door, the reception on her cell phone trapping her in a small five-foot section of their office, and she’s pacing like a wild animal in a cage.

She glances in his direction and he looks away, busying himself with the file he’s pretending to read.

“Look, do I need to come up there and fetch it myself, Agent Porter? … No? … Fine, if you can get it to me by one I won’t–”

When Mulder peers up, she’s looking at her phone incredulously.

“That asshole hung up on me.”

A burst of laughter bubbles up before he can stop it, and he intently regrets it when he sees her narrowed eyes, the heat in her glare directed at him instead of the hapless agent on the fifth floor.

Scully goes back to the computer desk in the corner and slumps in her seat. She’s holding her shoulders tightly to one side. He notes the wrinkles in her slacks, the half-untucked blouse, the careless way she sits her elbows on the surface in front of her. It would be charming and he’d delight in teasing her about her unusually unkempt state of dress but not even he would dare to try to lift her up by joking with her today.

“Would you stop staring at me Mulder, I’m fine.”

He opens his mouth to remind her about the words she’s not supposed to say but she nails him with another hard glare.

“I’m just having a shitty day.” She sighs and shifts in her seat, groaning as she cracks her neck from side to side. “Why are there so many incompetent people in this goddamn building?”

It’s been about an hour, and she can’t get herself to relax or focus. Another crack from Mulder’s side of the office makes her wince.

“For Christ’s sake, Mulder would you stop eating those things for, I don’t know, fifteen minutes? Maybe?”

When she glances up at him to emphasize her words, he’s looking at her with wide eyes, mouth half-open, hand frozen in place as he’d set another sunflower seed in his mouth. Instead of biting down, he spits it out on his desk, causing another surge of annoyance to rise within her at his carelessness.

The smallest things have been irritating her all day. She hates her unexplainable irrationality, that she can’t gain control of herself, and it makes her want to alternately burst into tears and smash something into tiny pieces.

She looks towards her partner again, sees his sad eyes and a tight, uncomfortable smile flash across his face. Her anger dissolves and shame rises within her. She can feel the tide of tears well up from deep in her chest, stinging her eyes as she holds them back. Mulder’s been nothing but supportive today; handling all the minor tasks that neither of them liked, answering the phone, and redirecting stupid questions. Yet, all she can think about is his inconsequential habits. She hates herself for taking out her anger, for which she could find no rational source, on him.

Her chair creaks as she shifts away from him in her seat; her hands coming up to hide her crumbling face, uncontrollable tears falling down her cheeks.

His gentle hand on her wrist stills her shaking hands.

“What can I do Scully? Anything.”

Kneeling down beside her chair and leaning close, so she can’t hide, his worry deepens. He’s never seen her so upset. At first he thought she’d just been stoically withstanding a day that had gone from bad to worse… but the tear tracks down her flushed cheeks and the worry in her eyes betray a deeper problem. His heart starts to race, finding it strange that she’s accepting his comfort at work.

Mulder releases a breath when her watery blue eyes meet his, and he sees a determination there, a curiosity. Something different than the fury and despair he’s been a silent witness to all morning.

A small smile briefly lights up her face and she brushes her damp cheek with the back of her hand.

“Anything?” Her eyebrow lifts, and he’s done for.

Nodding, Mulder squeezes her hand, moves a bit closer.

Scully withdraws her hand and looks away from him. When she looks back, he’s relieved to see she’s transformed back into her usual self. Her emotions are subtle, carefully hidden behind a mask of clinical detachment, but easily recognizable to him.

“Go to your apartment. Take off your clothes. And wait for me,” she says, her eyes an intense indigo that pierce straight through him.

Mulder’s eyes widen and a smile spreads on his face. Scully merely tilts her head to the side, raising both of her eyebrows at his delay. Her back straight, she directs the full power of her commanding gaze towards him.

He stands, grabs his jacket from his chair and leaves the office, a foolish smile on his face as he rushes to the elevators. He’s distracted but has enough sense to cover the evidence of his arousal already tenting his pants.

***

As Scully’s heels tap along the tiles in the hallway outside Mulder’s apartment, a small smile dances on her face. Mulder’s intervention worked something of a miracle. The control that she wrestled with all morning has morphed into anticipation. An emotion she was much more familiar with and something she could easily compartmentalize.

She didn’t wait very long. It took a weight off her shoulders that she was able to finish a few reports, thoughts of a licentious afternoon with Mulder teasing her. On the drive to his place, all she felt was the hot pooling of desire and all she thought about was how much she wanted to reward him for his ability to always make her feel better.

She lets herself into his apartment, the only light scattering dimly through the windows. The long shadows and silence gives her pause, but she sees his shoes scattered in the entryway, his jacket crumpled on the floor near the coat rack. She envisions his distracted, lanky frame entering his apartment in a rush, even more heedless of neatness than usual. It never fails to thrill her that she excites him just as much as he excites her.

The bedroom is darker than the living room, the shades pulled from the night before to give them privacy. She waits on the threshold, grazing her eyes over his darkened form, lingering over his hardening cock, wondering if he touched himself while waiting for her.

She doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move.

Dragging her eyes away after a few long moments, she moves to the window and tilts the blinds open, risking a little of their privacy so she can enjoy him in the light from the bright midday sun outside. A thrill races up her spine at the small chance someone could watch them and enjoy the view of their partially obscured forms making love.

She stands over him on the bed, and their eyes connect.

Mulder can tell she sees the desperation in his eyes. She’s deliberately dragging things out, and he almost forgets what started this in the first place. He wants to reach up and throw her on the bed, rip off her expensive suit, and show her what he’s been thinking of doing to her since he left their office.

But… he stays still under her intense gaze. His breathing quickens and his cock hardens under her scrutiny, arms across her chest like she’s examining evidence. Her eyebrow raised in silent command, he knows he’ll be hard-pressed to move without her permission, even if a goddamn sasquatch appeared behind her.

Suddenly, she’s leaning over him, one knee on the bed. Her mouth inches from him, warm puffs of breath onto the flushed skin of his cheek.

“You’ve been good, I can tell. Did you shave?”

He doesn’t speak, knows this game. He answers her with his eyes: Yes.

“How can I show you how much I appreciate you, Mulder?”

He can’t help but smile at her with a toothy grin. She’s fully clothed but reaches upwards to shrug off her jacket, unbutton her blouse halfway. The silky material of her untucked shirt tickles his skin, the warmth from her hands seeps into him as they hover but don’t touch. Her hair wraps around her face and hides her expression in shadows.

Her tongue is the first thing he feels, meandering down the center of his chest. The coolness of the air a transitory sensation on his dampened skin as her touch inflames him. He can only watch as she circles his navel, the sunlight from his window catching her fiery hair as she nears his cock. She exhales a soft sigh and glances upwards to meet his eyes before her mouth and hands descend upon him.

She grasps his rigid cock and licks his entire length with the flat of her tongue. Swirling around the tip, she tastes his essence, the saltiness, and something else that she’s associated with him from the very beginning. She can’t quite describe it. Since their first embrace, her face pressed into the center of his chest… it is HIM.

Taking him in her mouth, stroking the base of his cock with her hands, she hums in pleasure. The vibration from the sounds she makes travels down through him, upwards, echoing in his own voice. Mulder groans from his position on the bed but doesn’t reach out to touch her, as much as she wants him to.

Tears sting at her eyes, this time in happiness. He doesn’t hesitate to make himself vulnerable when she’s feeling powerless, shifting the balance between them. Ever since that first night in his hotel room, he knew what she needed. The trust built from there, and it was unconditional, unspoken, the thing she treasured most about them.

“Scully…”

She feels the tightening in his balls before the warning in his voice and lets him go, peering at him through her lashes.

“Did I say you could speak?”

Mulder shakes his head, his eyes tinged a deep green, equally desperate and aroused. Sweat slicks his brow, and his hands clench at the sheets. Holding his gaze a few seconds longer, his face softens, a small smile gracing his lips. The absolute trust she sees reflected in his eyes clenches at her heart.

Crawling up his body, carefully letting only the fabric of her clothing touch him, she brushes her nose along his. Her hand caresses his cheek, moves upwards to tangle in his thick hair. When her lips dart close to his, she pulls away as he strains upwards.

“Tell me what you’d do with me if I let you touch me.”

His voice is rough as he speaks. “I’d grab your wrists, pull you under me. I’d lick my way down to your pussy and keep licking until you begged me to fuck you.”

A twitch of her lips betrays the thought that she would, very much, like for him to do that to her. But not right now. Mulder waits passively but the sparkle in his eyes gives away his enjoyment.

“You were supposed to say ‘whatever I want’.”

“Tell me, then.”

“Kiss me.”

Their lips meet, and electricity travels from the top of his head straight to his groin. Her hands grasp his wrists, holding him in place. Her tongue invades his mouth, withdraws. She nips his lips playfully then pulls back out of reach. He longs to reach up and crush her mouth to his, to grab fistfuls of her hair, to run his fingers along the edge of her blouse and over her silky skin. He waits, but not for long.

Their lips separate momentarily, and Scully whispers into his mouth. “Touch me.”

He takes advantage of his freedom, hands finally moving from the bedsheets to caress the sides of her breasts through her shirt. Pulling on the edge of her blouse, he draws her closer to deepen their kiss. His tongue presses along hers and glides along her lips, tasting her.

Mulder pulls away and implores her silently as his hands move to the last remaining buttons on her blouse. Scully nods and grins at him. When he removes it, gliding his hands over her shoulders and down her back, he sighs at the contact of his hands along the smooth length of her skin, finally.

They kiss, her hand tangling in his hair, gently tugging and scratching his scalp. A surge of desire rising up within him, his hands glide up and squeeze her breasts. She gasps at the contact, pulls away slightly.

“Sorry, was I too–”

“It’s okay, I’m just a little… sensitive.” She grins at him, strokes a finger over his cheek, and bites her lip.

Nodding again and pressing closer, Mulder continues his ministrations. He takes a deep breath and controls himself, watching her face for any sign of discomfort. He works his way slowly towards her nipples, dares to glide over the hardened peaks through the material of her bra once he can see her face twist and her body writhe with want for him. Her skin is flushed down to her chest. Running a finger along the edge of her bra, he leans upwards and licks the perspiration forming there.

Panting shallowly, Scully sits up, reaches behind, and releases the catch on her bra.

“Your tongue.” She arches an eyebrow. “Gently.”

He obliges, teasing her as she teased him, awareness of her flooding every sense. When she stiffens slightly, he pulls back, touching her heated flesh everywhere but there, working his way up. Her sweet rosy nipples draw him, but he resists, placing feathery kisses on her alabaster skin, circling her areola with his tongue. When he finally, finally covers her nipple with his mouth, she’s panting with lust. He gently skims the sensitive nub with his tongue, making sure to pay equal attention to the other.

Suddenly she’s rolling off of him, lifting up her hips and divesting herself of the rest of her clothing. She perches up on one elbow, gazing at his body next to hers.

Scully watches as Mulder’s eyes sweep over her body, pausing at the thatch of curls at the apex of her thighs. She sees his hesitation, his hand inching towards her body. Stilling it with her own, she smiles impishly when his eyes return to hers, bathing her in the heat of his desire. He always makes her feel so fucking sexy like she’s the only woman on the planet.

As she rises on her knees, Scully feels wound up, tightly coiled, and ready to break at any moment. The unusual discomfort she felt earlier is forgotten, miles away. She’s swollen, flushed with heat, and ready. However, there’s a few more things she wants him to do first.

She crawls up his body, and can’t help but giggle self-consciously as she braces herself on the bed in front of him, knees bent on either side of his head, directly over his face.

“Make me come,” she demands.

He grasps her legs, pulling her close, and she gasps at the contact of his warm breath against her thighs. His tongue glides a trail along her leg, and she can tell he’s hesitant. His kisses are soft and slow, frustrating her with their gentleness. She moves, hoping he’ll quicken his pace, touch her where she wants him to, but he maneuvers out of the way, wrapping his arms around her legs firmly, grasping her ass with his hands.

“I’m ready, Mulder. Don’t hold back now.”

She feels him smile against her. It seems to take forever and then he’s there, a teasing nip at the crease of her leg, a soothing lick. Her legs wobble unsteadily, but he’s got her, supporting her completely as she abandons the control she’s had all this time. She gives herself over to him. As he worships her, kissing and sucking at her folds and her clit in a gentle rhythm, Scully grips the bedsheets with one hand and grasps his arm with the other, the flood of sensation overwhelming her.

The extended anticipation, the teasing, made her more than ready, despite how little she’s allowed him to touch her up until now. She’s wet, dripping, and he’s consuming her.

She lets him.

It’s only moments before his deft tongue has her breaking apart, seeing their future in the stars.

He’s holding her up when she comes and lays kisses against the soft skin of her thighs when she returns to him.

She crawls unsteadily off of him and lies on her side, trembling and breathless. She’s loose, draped languidly like a ragdoll. Mulder touches her freely, gliding over her porcelain skin. It glows underneath the sunlight from the window, and he worships her. The curve of her hip, the dip of her waist, the strength of her taut abdomen. He grazes his thumb over the slight swell just below her navel, the spot she curses at in her neverending search to rid herself of that last bit of softness. It’s his favorite place, where he’d lay his head for the rest of his life if she let him.

When her breathing steadies Mulder moves over her, leaning in to whisper in her ear. “What next?”

He’s close, mimicking her teasing from earlier, well aware that with only a word he’d do whatever she asked. Her eyes are dark, the blue irises a thin circle around her pupils. The dimple in her cheek flashes briefly as she grins. Her hands move across his chest, scratching upwards, tracing her thumbs around his nipples before pushing him up firmly.

“Off.”

He moves away from her, testing his limits by remaining as close as possible while still obeying. Scully licks her lips and slips out from under him. She sits close and moves a delicate finger down his chest and along his abdomen. A pause, a tantalizing glance beneath her lashes as she lays a palm on his chest and pushes him away again.

And then she’s on all fours, peering back at him through the veil of her hair.

“Fuck me.”

It takes him a moment to process her words through his lust-addled brain, the sight of her positioned so vulnerably, yet with absolute control of him, nearly makes him come right there. He scrambles up behind her, moving her to the edge of the bed, hands lingering on the curve of her ass and giving it a light squeeze.

“Hmmm… “ Scully murmurs, wiggles temptingly nearer to him, arching her back and laying down on her elbows.

The fiery fan of her hair blazes in the sunlight, her creamy skin beckoning him to touch her. The tattoo on her lower back taunts him as he grasps his cock, teases her entrance. She’s incredibly wet, swollen with need. He can’t help lingering there, gliding his other hand over the ink on her back then wrapping it around her hip.

He meant to go slowly to give her time to adjust, but once he enters her, she drives back onto him, and he’s deep within her, all at once.

“Oh!”

They both exclaim at the sensation and laugh in tandem. Being inside of her always feels incredible, like he’s sheltered, complete.

“Talk to me.”

“Miss my voice already?”

Scully giggles and swivels her hips to encourage him to move.

“Agh, Scully. Your wish is my command,” he says, as he starts to thrust slowly, his words centering him, keeping him focused on her.

“Do you know who I ran into on the way to the car out of our office today?”

“Hmm?”

“Skinner.”

Scully gasps, and he’s not sure if it’s from his words or a particularly sharp thrust, but he enjoys the ambiguity.

“I had to hold my jacket in front of me the whole time. And look like a complete jackass when he wondered where I was heading to in the middle of the day. You think he figured it out, Scully, what you do to me?”

Mulder leans over and kisses her shoulder blade.

“Do you know how hard it is to drive with an erection, Scully? Well of course you do, it’s not the first time you’ve put me in that state.”

She snorts into her arms with laughter, and the movement causes him to slip out momentarily. They both groan from the loss of contact. Mulder falters in his story, too distracted by the sight of her ass and slit in front of him, and the feel of her surrounding him when he enters her again.

“More.” Scully says, her words muffled by the pillow she’s holding onto.

He continues his movement and his tale with difficulty, his hands steadying her hips and caressing small circles into her skin with his thumbs.

“I thought I’d be late, that you’d get there before me and I’d disappoint you. I never want to disappoint you, Scully.” He’s quiet for a moment, wanting the meaning of his words to sink in, and desperately holding onto his control.

It was hard to think about anything except the woman writhing and moaning in front of him, but he was going to do his damndest to do what she wished. A challenge, he was always up for that.

“I waited for you, just as you asked. Shaved, laid down on the bed. It felt like hours…” He pants, pauses, leans forward again until she turns to face him. “I knew you’d come, Scully. Do you know how much that means to me?”

“Umm…” She leans up towards him, grasping onto his neck and pulling him forward. She looks at him as directly as she can from this position. “I’ll always come for you, Mulder.”

“That’s what she said.” Mulder smiles broadly, thrusts forward with a “Schwing!” motion.

Scully shakes with laughter and groans. Reaching backward she slaps the side of his ass. “That’s enough of that.”

Mulder’s broad grin shifts into a sentimental one. With one hand still holding her hip as he moves within her, he traces the contours of her spine and runs his fingers lightly over the soft skin of her lower back.

“When I heard you enter my apartment, it was all I could do to stop myself from leaping out of the bed to tackle you. The thought that in mere minutes, seconds, you’d be touching me, telling me what you wanted. It’s everything, Scully. You’re everything, you know that don’t you?”

“Yeah, Mulder,” she pants. “Love you, too. But… harder.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

He is overwhelmed by how good she feels; her tight walls gripping his cock with each movement. The swivel of her hips at the perfect moment. The increasing intensity of her moans and the sounds they make coming together. His hands grip her hips as he withdraws slowly, thrusts inside quick and deep. The force of it causes her to jerk forward on the bed, to grip the bedsheets tighter in her fists.

A wave of tenderness washes over him at the sight and feel of them together. His hand moves from her hip to glide up and caress the fine hair at the nape of her neck. He’ll never get over how amazing it feels to share this with her, to know that she wants this, that he can make her happy. She turns her head to peek at him, a smile curving upwards. The glint of the sun reflecting in her eyes, the love shining forth. His heart clenches and his movements grow more erratic. Gliding his hand between her legs, he rubs her clit, desperate to help her to the edge before he falls inevitably, towards his own.

It’s not long before she’s there. Scully gasps and her eyes squeeze shut and Mulder feels her walls pulsating around him. A few more sloppy thrusts and he’s engulfed by his own climax, an overwhelming tide of sensation and emotion.

When she comes back to awareness, she’s lying facedown on the bed, Mulder’s limp form half-covering her. Both groaning, they crawl into each other’s arms. Scully tucks her head into her spot just under his chin and sighs contentedly as her heartbeat slows.

Her eyes droop shut as Mulder strokes her hair and pulls up the sheet to cover them. She’s deliciously sore, filled with warmth, and finally feels calm settling over her like a quilt.

“Feel better?”

“Mmm, much.” Scully tilts her head up to look at him. “Thank you for turning my day around.”

“Well, let me tell you, it was a hardship.” Mulder winks at her and kisses her forehead.

Chuckling and laying back down, Scully sighs. “I really don’t know what got into me today. I’ve never been the superstitious sort–”

“No kidding.”

“–But it honestly feels like some horrendous combination of every terrible idiom. Woke up on the wrong side of the bed, full moon, etcetera. I could believe all of them were true.”

“I don’t know, Scully. I’m glad I could help though.” Mulder glides his hand over her shoulders and grasps her hand. “And I’m glad–”

At his pause, Scully looks up at him again, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m glad Skinner found me before he could go see you.”

“Why?”

“He told me something I’m sure would have made things worse. I… hope I don’t sour your mood again by telling you, but…”

“Mulder…” she warns. They don’t keep things from each other, not anymore.

“There’s some sort of audit coming next week. He just wanted to make sure we didn’t take any field trips before then. Apparently the guy is a bit of a hard-ass.”

“Is that it?”

Mulder’s mouth quirks into a half-smile. “I thought you’d be more upset.”

“That was this morning. I’m good now.” Scully’s eyes pierce into his own. “How are you with this news?”

Mulder shrugs and rolls his eyes. Giant waste of time, she can hear him think.

“We’ve been through worse, Mulder. One accountant certainly can’t do much.” She wraps her arm around him tighter, kisses his chest. “Besides, we’ve got each other. What can they do?”

She can feel his contentment surrounding her as she drifts into a half-sleep. “Yeah, we got this, Scully.”

#XFSmut2020 #my fic #xf fanfic #xfiles #x-files #the x-files #msr #mulder and scully #smut #xf smut #msr fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully

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goldenworldsabound · 5 years ago

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Summons from the Tianquan

...I ship with Ningguang now fsdjkfsdkj. This is the first meeting between the Crystalline Angel (si) and Ningguang. Enjoy!

word count: 1706

content warning: light fighting

The Crystalline Angel would never forget the first time they spoke with the Tianquan.

A murmur rippled through the crowd at the underground fight club outside the outskirts of Liyue Harbor, before falling unusually silent. The crowd parted, and Ningguang appeared in the haze. The sound of her heels echoed as she approached the arena. Ganyu waited by the entrance, watching carefully for anyone who might attack. But Ningguang's powerful status and presence was enough to sufficiently awe the attendees, and the minor threat of the geo orbs hovering around her was a sufficient deterrent.

The Crystalline Angel stared suspiciously at the beautiful newcomer, panting. Beside them on the arena floor was an unconscious opponent. What should have been bloodied knuckles from the flurry of punches they'd landed were merely bruised, thin geo shields still visible around them. The Crystalline Angel stood up straight as Ningguang made her way toward them, eyes red eyes locked onto their blue ones, making it clear who they came to speak to.

"Bravo." Ningguang said, coming to stand within a few feet of them. "You're the one they call the Crystalline Angel?"

The Crystalline Angel nodded. "What of it?" Their nerves were electrified. What was going on? This was beyond unusual. Their black feathered wings spread out a bit behind them, a reflexive attempt to appear intimidating.

"I believe that there are far better uses for your talents," Ningguang said, with a wry smile. "And I have a proposition for you. If you're interested," Ningguang pulled out a scroll, holding it out to the Crystalline Angel. "use these instructions to visit me at the Jade Chamber tomorrow morning."

The Crystalline Angel took the scroll, even as they considered the consequence of doing so. The Jade Chamber. Every person in this room had set their eyes on them as an enemy as a result of taking that scroll - all of them would be interested in getting to the Jade Chamber to loot it. The Crystalline Angel was certain that would be impossible regardless, but the greedy low lives of Liyue would pay that no mind. They grit their teeth, recognizing the position they were being put in.

They were certain from the look on her face that Ningguang understood as well.

If they wanted to avoid a bloody free for all battle, all they needed to do was follow her out now. No one would dare attack. But they were not a coward, and they would face the challenge presented them.

"I will see you then." The Crystalline Angel replied, stone faced. Ningguang nodded, before turning on her heel to leave. The audience watched her go, murmurs rising back up to full volume as she left. Ganyu cast a final glance at the Crystalline Angel before leaving after Ningguang.

Immediately, all hell broke loose.

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The Crystalline Angel had given the password kept in the scroll to the man at the platform, and they had ascended to the Jade Chamber. The Jade Chamber, while not the behemoth it would become in time, which was still an impressive feat of engineering, and the Crystalline Angel was impressed despite themselves. They had never envisioned being up here, so they were not awestruck like a merchant would be. They were shrewd, taking everything in. They kept their wings pulled in tight, uninterested in knocking anything over by accident and feeling tense.

Ningguang came out to greet them.

"Welcome to the Jade Chamber, Crystalline Angel. Is there a name I may use to address you?" Ningguang asked, bowing her head slightly.

"You can use the title like everyone else." The Crystalline Angel replied with annoyance. "My name is none of your business."

"I understand. May I shorten it, then? Perhaps to Angel?"

The Crystalline Angel let out a huff. "If you must, I would prefer Crystalline."

Ningguang nodded, with a quiet laugh. "Then welcome, Crystalline. Please, come with me."

Crystalline followed Ningguang inside. Even though the Jade Chamber was a single room, it was more opulent than anything Crystalline had ever seen. Beautiful paintings and calligraphies lined the walls, expensive vases and rare books on display, items clearly made of expensive gold, and a large ornate desk covered in papers at the back of the room.

"It is customary for guests to bring me gifts," Ningguang said, voice light. "But I assume you have come empty handed."

Crystalline snorted. "Was the trouble you caused me last night not enough for you?"

Ningguang laughed. "I like that bluntness. You make a fair point. I hope it wasn't too much trouble after all."

"I'm here." Crystalline responded, narrowing their eyes to meet Ningguang's amused gaze. They neglected to mention all the scrapes and bruises they had suffered as they had made their escape from the underground fighting ring. One against so many was an obviously unfair fight. But they had used their burst to shield themselves and increase their movement speed, punching out anyone who dared to get in their way. But they had not left unscathed.

Ningguang nodded. "As for my proposition." Ningguang cleared her throat. "There are times when there are less than savory jobs that I need completed. This may be intimidating folks who need to be put back in lines, reminding treasure hoarders the cost of messing with the Qixing, or collecting materials needed for various objectives." Ningguang went to stand behind her desk, putting a gloved hand on a contract she had written up. "In the mornings, you will come and collect your tasks from me. In the evenings, you will report back. Between those two times, as long as the tasks are completed, you are free to do whatever you like. And," She lifted her gaze to meet Crystalline's. "You will be paid handsomely. The details are here." She slid the contract across the desk.

Crystalline leaned over to read it, keeping their arms crossed. It was as Ningguang had said. They kept their face carefully calm as they read the payment terms, despite being shocked by the huge amount of Mora.

"I see. These terms are...amenable." Crystalline said.

"Good. Please sign here." Ningguang indicated the dotted line, handing over a pen. After a moments hesitation Crystalline signed. This would be very different from their current life. With a pleased smile, Ningguang took back the pen, adding her own signature. "Welcome to the Qixing."

Crystalline snorted quietly. "Thanks." They cracked their neck. "So what's next?"

"Bring me a Chaos Core from a Ruin Hunter."

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

Crystalline was hugely unimpressed with the task. They were certain that Ningguang was testing them yet again. So you can handle a mob - can you handle a dangerous enemy?

"Don't underestimate me." Crystalline murmured to themselves as they staked out the Ruin Hunter. This was trivial. Trivial, trivial. But at least they got to fight, they supposed. And they'd be paid handsomely for it.

They jumped up onto a ledge, quickly firing a few arrows at the Ruin Hunter to catch it's attention. It began to rise up into the air as a response, focusing it's gaze onto them. They notched an arrow, imbuing it with Geo energy, before firing it directly into the Ruin Hunter's eye as it approached them. It flinched, and they immediately began charging a second one. The Ruin Hunter prepared to fire missiles.

Crystalline grit their teeth. Those would hurt. But there should be time...they fired the imbued arrow into it's eye again, and with a grinding mechanical noise it fell to the ground, temporarily inert.

Letting out a grunt they powered up, putting their bow on their back as Geo energy surrounded their fists like shields. They jumped onto the Ruin Hunter, smashing it repeatedly. After a good 30 seconds or so, the robot awoke, and began to rise into the air again, Crystalline still on it.

It swerved and jerked around, trying to knock them off. The Ruin Hunter was incapable of reaching them while they were attached to it like this. But it was beginning to spin, and they were forced to pause their punches to hold on. Their Geo shields were running out, and they'd need time to charge them up again.

They covered it's eye with both their hands, hanging on tightly as it began to careen wildly. It slammed into a stone wall, but wasn't quite out yet. It was beginning to spark and make more mechanical noises, so Crystalline was certain it was close to being defeated. There, there, it was moving wildly in the direction of a rocky cliff- they jumped off just in time to avoid being crushed as the Ruin Hunter smashed itself to pieces against the rocks.

They did a roll as they landed, smoothly getting to their feet, bow already drawn and pointing at the Ruin Hunter remains. With a smirk, they put the bow away, walking over to collect their bounty. Easy.

They would make sure Ningguang knew exactly how much she had underestimated them.

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

"Delivery." Crystalline dropped five Chaos Cores unceremoniously onto Ningguang's desk. "I was enjoying myself, so I figured you wouldn't mind the extra."

Ningguang raised her brows, looking stunned for a moment at the display. "I certainly can't say I was expecting that. Congratulations on passing your first day with flying colors."

Crystalline felt their cheeks warming. They hadn't expected Ningguang to openly praise them like that. Certainly, they'd heard the mixed rumors of the Tianquan being kind, but being shrewd, being sweet, but sharply cunning. But it wasn't something they were used to.

"Hm. Well. Thank you." They coughed quietly. "I'll...I'll see you tomorrow then."

"Don't forget! I'm giving you your first months payment in advance." Ningguang pulled a bag of Mora from a drawer in the desk. "And I'll throw in a little something for all the extra cores." A second, smaller bag of Mora appeared. Both were placed on the desk for Crystalline to take. They hesitated a moment in disbelief, before pocketing the bags with a small smile.

"Thank you." The smile widened fractionally. "Now I will see you tomorrow. Hopefully with a more difficult set of tasks." They flashed a cheeky grin, as if daring Ningguang to do something.

Ningguang laughed. "I'll keep that in mind. Good night."

#scheduled #fic #self ship #selfship #self shipping #selfshipping #self insert #ningguang x oc #wendy x ningguang #need a ship name uwu #Your Weight In Gold

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love-killed-the-superstar · 5 years ago

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super late but here is day 6!! also: if the cottage was actually destroyed i’m sorry, but i combed through TOTS a LOT and couldn’t seem to find any proof it was actually fully destroyed so... please just suspend your disbelief for this one, lads

CASSUNZEL WEEK DAY 6 - TRUST AND HEALING

Interior decorating is something Rapunzel never figured she and Cass would have in common, but somehow, here they are.

To be perfectly honest, when Rapunzel decided to return to Gothel’s old cottage (or what was left of it, anyway) she wasn’t really sure how Cassandra would take the news. How exactly does one explain that they’re rebuilding your nearly-destroyed childhood home that may or may not hold a boatload of trauma inside its walls? In the end she had taken the coward’s way out and written her to break the news, fully expecting to be met with silence on Cass’s end, as so often happens when she receives news that’s hard to swallow. The fact that she returned to Corona less than a month after the letter had been sent surprised Rapunzel to no end.

(“So, we’ve got our work cut out for us,” she had said nonchalantly, climbing off of Fidella’s back and rolling up her sleeves as Rapunzel stared in shock. “Where should we start?”

“I-I didn’t think you’d actually – well, hang on a moment,” Rapunzel had replied, chickening out of the tough conversation. “Let me just find my clipboard.”)

Cass has been… a little quiet on the matter, to be honest. It’s been easy enough to keep distracted by the house; the foundation and floors have been rebuilt where they’d been torn through by black rocks, and Rapunzel had the roof rethatched several weeks earlier. Cassandra has thrown herself into repairing furniture, refitting the window panes and getting the water mill back up and running again, while Rapunzel has taken to repairing torn curtains, scrubbing mould and mildew and moss from the walls, weeding the cracks where plant life has inevitably sprung up from and filling them in afterwards. The effort to seal up the entrance to Gothel’s strange underground mirror lair takes the both of them, and although neither of them have much to say, it gives Rapunzel a grim satisfaction that the burned, smashed up hideout can’t be reached any longer.

This part of fixing the house takes just over two weeks of dawn-til-dusk of hard work, and each evening they ride back to the castle and fall into Rapunzel’s bed, too tired to really talk about it. Eugene finds the whole thing bizarre and doesn’t shy away from telling them so, but Rapunzel kind of got the feeling that he wouldn’t understand it from the moment she mentioned the idea to him.

(“Why are you dragging this ordeal out?” he had asked her one night, just two days before Cass showed up at the house without warning. “And why bring Cass into it at all? I don’t want to police your process, but isn’t it time to put Gothel behind you both and… learn to let go of the past?”

Rapunzel hadn’t known how to answer him. “It’s just something I want to do,” she had said instead. “And Gothel hurt her too, Eugene. I can’t keep it from her.”)

They don’t need to talk about it; not if they don’t want to. Rapunzel and Cassandra seem to have come to a silent agreement that they won’t push for some big heart-to-heart that ends in tears, or an argument that eventually turns into a greater understanding of each other’s pasts.

When it comes to the house that Gothel built, nothing really needs to be said at all. Right?

…

“I can’t believe we’ve done this, Cass.”

“Tell me about it. What exactly ignited this passion project of yours, anyway?”

“I wanted to breathe new life into this place, I guess.”

The two of them stand back and stare at their surroundings in satisfaction. There’s no more cobwebs or ivy or moss covering the walls, and where there are stains Rapunzel has thrown on a cream wash. The floors and ceiling and roof are repaired, the windows are no longer cracked and smashed, and the creak of the water mill can be heard faintly from outside. The salvaged furniture is stacked up in the centre of the room, and Rapunzel has decided that tomorrow they’ll take a trip to the market to replace the items that were too far gone to be saved.

Today, they’re focusing on the walls.

Rapunzel’s vision is a little… eclectic. Pale, neutral walls might be best, and perhaps they can be accented with floral imagery, or maybe even a mural of the cottage itself. Another part of her, however, dreams in full colour; cerulean walls, or perhaps celadon, with bright sunny yellow flowers and trees with purple leaves – and why stop there? She could paint some horses in a meadow, or birds soaring through the sky. Why not paint fairies, unicorns, dragons? Make this house its own storybook experience?

“I’m so torn on my vision,” she confesses to Cassandra as she stands between buckets upon buckets of paint, an entire rainbow of choice laid out in front of her. “I need a better idea of what to paint before I can even think about washes. Any thoughts?”

“I’m a little creatively stinted, Rapunzel,” Cass deadpans. “I thought you had a clear vision of this place when you started out?”

“I can’t narrow it down. Do I want to go simple, or do I want to completely transform this place?”

Cass shrugs listlessly, sitting down cross-legged by the stacks of furniture. “You just have to listen to your gut.”

Oh, if guts could talk, Rapunzel would be all ears. Her frown deepens as she contemplates her options. Maybe she should find a compromise. Pale walls, vibrant art? Maybe that will work best.

Hesitantly, she reaches for a muted green (the bedroom area can be a forest mural now, she’s decided, or maybe a marsh) and heads over to a wall in need of a fresh coat. Cassandra joins her, a comically large paintbrush in hand, and they paint in a sullen silence.

“So, Cass. I’m… I’m glad you came back to help me out with this,” Rapunzel ventures. “You didn’t have to.”

“You sounded afraid in your letter,” Cass says coolly, with a long sweeping stroke. “Like you thought I would be angry at you for doing this, so I thought I should come back. Besides, I… I wanted to see it for myself.”

Cassandra can be frustratingly hard to read sometimes, and now happens to be one such instance. Rapunzel isn’t sure what she wants right now. It was easy enough not to talk at first, but something about pouring some of her own flair into these walls makes her uneasy – has her overcome with this urge to get everything off their chests before she proceeds. What memories does Cass have of this place? Does it hurt to be here, even if she refuses to show it? Is there some good left in this place, parts that Cassandra might not want to let go of?

“Do you like what you see?” Rapunzel asks quietly.

“...I don’t know yet. I need a fuller picture before I draw any conclusions.”

Rapunzel feels like – hopes – she has some insight into how Cass might be feeling right now. Returning to the tower for the first time since reuniting with her family had given her all sorts to think about, and watching it fall had filled her with a nauseating combination of crisis and catharsis. After all, there were some good memories amongst all the long, drawn out days of agonising boredom and walking on eggshells around Gothel, always so afraid of saying the wrong thing and making everything worse. It wasn’t love, and her world was so small before she left the tower behind.

Even if her time with Gothel was far briefer, Rapunzel can’t help but wonder if Cassandra holds echoes of fond memories somewhere in there, as few and far between as they may have been.

“You know, when I returned to this place, I didn’t think the house would be salvageable,” Rapunzel confesses to the silence. “Given the spike tearing through it, and the way the mountain crumbled inside, I figured it would probably have fallen apart. So seeing that there was still a chance to restore it… I don’t know. I couldn’t really think about anything else, for weeks afterwards. In the end, Eugene just told me to get it all out of my system. He’s not exactly happy about it, but…”

“Well sure, the wedding will suck if you’re too busy thinking about complimentary paint colours to focus on your vows,” Cass points out dryly. Rapunzel laughs.

“Yeah, you have a point.” As she goes to dip her paintbrush again, she glances to the wall adjacent; cream, blank, inviting.

“...Do you have a date in mind yet?”

“Not yet. We’re thinking spring or summer though. We need time to get all the arrangements together, after all.” Rapunzel purses her lip. “You know, I think I’m going to start on some detailing. Mind finishing this off?”

Cass nods, and carries on in that same long silence. Rapunzel moves onto the wall. She envisions a recreation of that cottage. She’s been sketching it a lot, lately, and goes to retrieve her journal.

“You’re making a mural of the cottage?” Cass wrinkles her nose as Rapunzel leans the journal up against a beam at the edge of the wall. “So you step inside, just to see the outside all over again?”

“Well, it’s picturesque!” Rapunzel says. She lingers, paintbrush trailing in the beige she picked out for the base of the house. “Unless you don’t want me to paint it?”

A pause. “No, go ahead. Paint it. It doesn’t matter to me either way.”

Rapunzel begins slowly at first, glancing between the wall in front of her and the woman two metres away, still listlessly dragging the brush. She’s changed a little; her hair is getting longer, scraped back into a slightly lopsided ponytail to keep it out the way. Rapunzel is tempted to drag a comb through and tie it more evenly, but judging from the tension in Cassandra’s shoulders, it would probably be met with resistance.

After a while, however, Rapunzel soon falls into the trance of painting – absorbed into the gentle strokes of the brush, planning the subtle lighting and how to translate the details of the house in simple splotches of paint. She even forgets her original plight to talk things through with Cass, losing her awareness of the world around her until it is simply her and the brush and the wall, coming together to paint this fairytale home, where from now on only good things will happen and happy memories will be made and no child will ever feel abandoned or unwanted or hurt ever again–

“Rapunzel!”

Cass grabs her arm and Rapunzel jerks out of her vision, staring at her in confusion. Her paintbrush, dripping jade, is just inches from the edge of the beam in the corner. The stretch of grass she was in the middle of painting now has an uneven glob that slowly rolls down like a teardrop. Cass grips her arm tight, eyes bright with alarm.

“Cassandra, what’s wrong?”

“I…” Her grip loosens and, brow furrowing, she releases Rapunzel’s arm. “Nothing, nothing’s wrong, you just…”

“I just?” Rapunzel prompts, bewildered.

“The beam. You were – you were going to get paint on the beam.”

“Oh. Uh, good reflexes! I didn’t realise.” She laughs nervously. “Guess I got a little carried away, huh?”

“Yeah, well.” Cass mutters, stepping back. She sets her paintbrush back in its bucket and runs her fingers through her hair, uncaring that she smudges green paint against her scalp in the process. “Just be careful, Rapunzel, all right?”

“Uh, sure.” Rapunzel frowns. “Cass, are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine, Raps.” She turns her back. “Look, I’m going to get some fresh air.”

She heads towards the door without looking back, leaving the door wide open and swinging as she goes. Rapunzel watches after her, thoroughly confused, before turning back to the wall. Maybe Cassandra does hate the mural. Maybe she hates everything Rapunzel is doing right now, and is just here to intervene when things get too much? After all, things have been strange between them since she returned. They’ve barely hugged or kissed or held hands, and Rapunzel knows they’re not in the giddy, starry-eyed closeness stage of their relationship anymore, and Cass has never been huge on big gestures of affection, but still… it’s impossible to ignore this atmosphere any longer.

As she sets her own paint brush aside, dejected, something catches the corner of her eye and she pauses. There’s something on the beam. When Rapunzel looks, she can’t work out at first why it grabbed her attention; it’s just a chip in the wood, a scrape maybe, but it’s fairly deep. She only noticed it from bending over, it’s not too far off the ground… and that’s when she sees more scratches. Some are shallower than others, some more controlled and some extremely wobbly and veering off to one side. But she can make out that they’re more than just someone chipping away at wood when they’re bored. There are… scribbles, wonky bodies, twigs for arms.

The lower part of the beam is covered in a child’s carvings.

The longer Rapunzel stares, the colder she begins to feel inside. This beam isn’t the only one; there are dozens of wooden trimmings, as her feet carry her across the room, and each with the same cast of characters – a tall scribble and a shorter scribble. Mother and daughter.

She needs to find Cass.

Rapunzel doesn’t need to look hard. She barely takes two steps outside before she sees the glint of Cassandra’s sword as it slashes through the air, sparring with herself. If she hears Rapunzel approach, she doesn’t acknowledge her until Rapunzel offers, “I saw the carvings. I’m sorry, Cass.”

“Why be sorry? You didn’t know they were there,” she mutters, swinging again, and again. “Nobody did. Even I didn’t, until we started the wash. Once we were standing there, the memories kind of hit me all at once.”

“They were yours, then.” No response. “...They looked quite advanced, for a four-year-old’s drawings.”

“Well, what else was I supposed to do to pass the time, once the floors had been swept and the beds had been made?” Cass snaps. Another swing. “I had nothing but free time with the house to myself, after all.”

“Cass, can we please talk about this without the deadly weapon thrown in?” Rapunzel pleads. Cass ignores her. Another swing.

“I’m just lucky she was never around long enough to really pay attention to them. I mean, can you imagine how she would have scolded me? Or worse?” Another swing.

“Cassandra, please. Put down the sword. Let me near you.”

“I don’t get it, Rapunzel! Why did… why did I just – why did I ever let Zhan Tiri fool me into thinking she might have loved me?”

“Cass, stop!”

Cass raises her sword to strike again when she feels arms wrap around her waist, halting her in her tracks. Rapunzel clings on, pressing her cheek to Cassandra’s back and feeling her erratic breathing as she stands still, finally allowing the sword to lower gently.

“...Why did it have to be this cottage, Rapunzel?” she croaks. “Isn’t it better to leave it all buried?”

“I don’t think so,” Rapunzel whispers. “Darling, I don’t think that will work forever.”

Cass sinks to her knees, taking Rapunzel with her, and they kneel in silence as the breeze rustles the trees around them.

“I feel sick,” Cass says dully, setting her sword down in the grass. Rapunzel presses her forehead to the space between Cassandra’s shoulder blades, breathing in her smell, trying to soothe her somehow.

“This is too weird, isn’t it?” she murmurs.

“Rapunzel, it’s so fucking weird.” Rapunzel winces. Cass does well not to curse in front of her, but, well… maybe now isn’t the best time to comment on it. “You never even lived here. Why do you have this need to mold it to your worldview instead of letting it rot away quietly like everybody else was happy to do?”

“This is a beautiful place,” Rapunzel protests. “Isn’t it beautiful? Why should it have to die because of the terrible things she did? You were born in this cottage, Cassandra, that means something! Gothel was a horrible person and she made both of our lives miserable, but – but that doesn’t mean we can’t still find something beautiful in this place.”

“Not everything has to be beautiful, or even saved. Fixing a house isn’t going to fix us, is it?”

The sharpness of her words cut right through Rapunzel, and pulls away from Cass, stunned. Cass cranes her neck to face her, regret already written all over.

“You’re right. I’m a fool, aren’t I, Cass? Because I – I actually hoped it would.” Rapunzel buries her head in her hands. “Darn it, I… I want to move on, just like you do. I always think I’m over the tower and Gothel, but then when I found this place… I just thought about how good it would feel to take it away from her and make it beautiful and then some new family could live here, a loving family who take care of each other and don’t b-belittle their kids…”

Cass turns around fully, and reaches over to squeeze Rapunzel’s shoulders.

“Don’t, Raps. You’re not foolish for wanting those things, all right? I just… I don’t think painting some walls will bring you any closure. And being here, surrounded by all these things that remind us of her, isn’t helping either.”

“I shouldn’t have written to you. Eugene told me to leave you out of this because he knew this was a bad idea and we’d both get hurt from it, but I didn’t listen, and now-”

“Seriously, stop. Do not give Fitzherbert the satisfaction of being right about something.” Rapunzel peeks up at her, and Cass offers her a small smile. “I didn’t feel like this the whole time. It has been kind of fun, repairing things and putting it all back together, but then I’d remember where we were and wonder why we were doing this, and – and I didn’t know how to even talk to you about it.”

“I thought you just didn’t want to talk, so I didn’t try to push it.” Rapunzel smiles faintly. “Eugene is going out of his mind, trying to understand the logic of the situation.”

“He’s not the only one.” Cass leans forward and kisses Rapunzel softly. “Look, if you truly believe that redecorating will somehow cleanse this house of Gothel forever and give us some catharsis, I’ll trust your judgement. But only if you trust mine when I say that this isn’t the only way to do that.”

Rapunzel nods, leaning over to kiss her back.

“I’m sorry Gothel hurt you,” she murmurs. Cass sighs sadly.

“I’m sorry she hurt you too.”

“I wish Zhan Tiri hadn’t forced you to remember all of this, but… do you regret knowing?” Rapunzel asks, running a thumb across Cassandra’s cheek soothingly. Cass leans into her touch, eyes fluttering shut.

“No. I always knew something was missing, so even though it hurts, at least the pieces are all there. I just – I wish it had gone differently, that’s all. I wish she had been different.”

They sit in silence, neither sure of what else to say, and Rapunzel glances back over at the house. It stands stout and quiet, charming on the outside, but somehow she can't bring herself to go back inside. “...You know, maybe we should leave it for today.”

Cass quirks an eyebrow in confusion. “Really? It’s barely noon, and the walls won’t paint themselves.”

“It’ll still be standing tomorrow! Besides, we’ve been perfect strangers since you came back. I want to take a moment just to be with you.”

She flops back, stretching out on the soft grass and staring up at the cloudless sky above. It truly is beyond beautiful out here. Cassandra’s face hovers over hers, presses a kiss to her brow, and then she lies back beside her.

“You know, when you take Gothel out of the equation, this place is really peaceful,” Cass comments.

“If we have our way, by the time we’re done no one will associate it with her ever again,” Rapunzel agrees. “Wouldn’t it be nice?”

“Paradise,” Cass remarks, and Rapunzel can hear the wry smile in her voice as she speaks. “It would be just paradise.”

When it comes to the house that Gothel built, they’re going to build it back up, better than ever before. Nothing else needs to be said. The clouds drift on and they lie there, hand in hand.

#cassunzel week #cassunzel week 2020 #cassunzel #tangled the series #tts #writing

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tessatechaitea · 5 years ago

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Justice League #1 (1987)

This is actually a more impressive line-up than I remember.

I'm pretty sure this line-up is a huge scam. I don't remember Doctor Fate interacting too much with this group and I think Shazam bows out fairly quickly. Batman probably does that thing where he acts like he's leader (even if Martian Manhunter actually is) and only helps out every sixth mission. So at that point, the line-up is already decreasing in strength and intimidation factor quickly. Adding Fire, Ice, and Booster Gold later won't really improve the team much. But I'm getting ahead of myself. My impressions from this initial cover were "Wow! Pretty interesting team!" and "What asshole fucking decided on the shit stencil font for the title?" Sorry, I cuss a lot when I'm writing on the Internet and trying to seem like a bad-ass. The issue begins with Guy Gardner calling the other Green Lanterns jerks and suggesting, to himself, that he should be the Commander-in-Chief of the new Justice League. Some people would read this first page and think, "What an arrogant fucking asshole." But my stomach got all queasy and I giggled a little bit and I muttered quietly under my breath, "I love him."

I'm not saying it isn't composed of some truly ridiculous aspects but Guy still has the best costume in the DC Universe.

I don't love everything about Guy Gardner because most writers at the time didn't truly understand him. They made him a jerk that nobody would like because they were too cold-hearted to see the brain damaged cool guy that he really was. Guy Gardner often needed to be written by somebody who loved the character; it would have done him a world of good. He could still have been that abrasive jerk. But written deftly, those who actually cared to take the time would see his true self. Sure, that would also be an abrasive jerk! But a little bit more likable!

Stallone was pretty sensitive in a few scenes in Rocky IV!

Black Canary is second to arrive, after which Mister Miracle and Oberon show up. I never quite understood how Oberon fit into the Justice League. Wasn't he like an agent or a manager? Did Batman and Martian Manhunter need Oberon to sign off on every mission or else Scott Free would have to remain behind? I bet he was included just so Giffen and DeMatteis could make dwarf jokes.

Why would Guy choose Sneezy?! Oberon's breathing has been impeccable since he arrived!

Normally after some kind of cynical prediction about the comic book that immediately is proved true, I'd write, "Grandmaster Comic Book Reader!" But it doesn't feel right to say it in this case. I mean, Oberon is present for four panels before he becomes the butt of a joke based on his diminutive nature. And by Guy Gardner, no less! Is this why I loved him so much at sixteen?! What a terrible and typical sixteen year old white heterosexual male I was! Black Canary (whose costume I'm just now noticing is really fucking weird) responds to Guy's awful behavior by saying, "Dozens of GLs around and we get 'Rambo' with a ring!" That's unfair to Rambo! I'm also unsure who in this story (including the writers of this story) have actually seen First Blood. Gardner is more like the authority mad Sheriff Teasle than the sensitive green beret John Rambo! Rambo should be admired as a hero, battling back against corrupt cops who think they have the right to use as much force as they want for any stupid fucking reason! It's possible they were talking about the Rambo from the second film who gets to kill more than one person because the people he's killing are Russians and Vietnamese. He does get a bit murder crazy in the second film. Or maybe they're talking about Rambo from the third film which wasn't actually out yet so I don't have to read up on it. Next to arrive are Captain Marvel, Blue Beetle, and Martian Manhunter. Martian Manhunter proves to be a buzzkill, reminding everybody how the old series ended in total death and disaster.

His view of the media is pretty spot on though.

J'onn calls up the files of Steel, Gypsy, Vixen, and Vibe before purging them completely from the Justice League computer. That's probably a good idea, like deleting old joke tweets on Twitter that were a bit racist and also boring. Meanwhile Maxwell Lord IV watches from a distance, doing that Ozymandias thing where you watch dozens of televisions at once. I think it proves you're a genius whose done the research and contemplated all sides of an issue before making up your totally rational and logical mind about any issue. As opposed to us losers who simply use compassion and empathy to almost immediately understand the correct and most ethical path to take. Maxwell Lord IV watches all of this television and decides the correct course to take is to leave the "America" off of the Justice League of America this time. Oh, and also the "of".

Maybe this is why I liked Guy so much: because he knew the saying was "you've got another think coming." Look, I'm going to be desperately finding good reasons to have liked Guy Gardner so much when Giffen and DeMatteis are this determined to make him a huge and unlikable jerk.

Look, I was sixteen! Hardly the best time in a young man's life for qualities like compassion and empathy and fashion sense and hair styles! I'm also fairly certain it wasn't this comic book that made me like him so much. I'm pretty sure he gets knocked out by Batman with one punch before the year is over and I remember loving that scene. So I probably despised him like a good reader of Justice League was supposed to do. Hopefully he'll have some character moments during this series that will show why I wound up liking him so much as a character. Right now, he's just a complete and utter asshole. The five panels following the one I just scanned consist of Guy once again calling Oberon "Sneezy" and then suggesting Black Canary is going to want to fuck him soon enough. Martian Manhunter tries to break it up and just winds up part of the chaos.

Okay, I'm starting to get why I might have liked him at sixteen, even after the first few pages. To a sixteen year old white male, mocking Martian Manhunter with a "Ho-ho-ho" trumps ableism, sexism, and, with this attack on J'onn for his inherent physical Martianness, almost certainly racism as well.

Guy continues to play the role of Squeaky Wheel for another page or two. I suppose if you want more on-panel time than the other heroes, you've got to be a raging asshole. I can't say I'm not entertained by it!

Captain Marvel earns a little of my love with this line as well. No shame in drinking warm milk at night!

This is only nine pages into the first issue and Guy has completely derailed the formation of the new Justice League. Was this blasphemy to previous fans of the Justice League where the team may have had some minor squabbles about various things and Batman would quit every six issues but mostly they didn't break out into brawls whenever they got together? Or were internal struggles and arguments a regular plot point? I have no idea because the only Justice League comics I read previous to this title were the terrible months where everything was breaking down and then Steel betrayed them and Vibe was killed off and Martian Manhunter felt like a huge failure. Although was Aquaman leading the team at the time? I dislike Aquaman so much, I'm just going to believe he was leading the team and that's why everything completely fell apart. He sucks. Once per day, I think about that lousy meme trying to prove Aquaman wasn't useless by using the image from New 52 Justice League where he controls a bunch of great whites to breach and kill a bunch of parademons and I hate everybody who actually thought that was a cool moment. Batman and Doctor Fate arrive in the middle of the Justice League brawl (which even Martian Manhunter, the only adult in the room, is taken part in) and shuts shit down The Batman way.

I guess heroes are also a cowardly lot.

Meanwhile, Doctor Light winds up being held hostage with the rest of the United Nations by some white terrorists. I felt I needed to say they were white because a lot of racist assholes can only envision terrorists one way. Also, I should always describe people as white when they're white since I don't want to be an accomplice to maintaining a world where we assume a person mentioned is white, male, and heterosexual unless they're described more fully. Doctor Light was given a Justice League emergency beeper by a mysterious figure some time previously. This isn't revealed but I just read Justice League Spectacular #1 so I know Maxwell Lord gave her the device so that she could alert the Justice League when the United Nations was taken hostage by terrorists that Maxwell Lord IV paid. It's all about getting some early press! There's an advert for the new Flash which I'm surprised I didn't pick up since the advert shows him having some kind of accident in a sperm bank.

Ew Flash is right!

The Justice League head over to stop the terrorist attack. At some point, Doctor Fate disappears to go do something else and I think he never comes back? Is that why I barely remember him as a part of this league? Was he just there to look cool on the cover and fool all the lovers of DC magic users? The League storms the UN, murdering several terrorists.

Look. Manhunter either phased their heads into the solid ceiling or he smashed their skulls straight through the roof. Either way, I don't see a high percentage chance of their survival.

The Justice League capture all the terrorists and then Batman has the building evacuated, leaving just the leader of the terrorists alone in the United Nations building threatening to kill himself so that the bomb attached to his heart would detonate and kill them all. He does kill himself but the bomb doesn't detonate. And the thing is, Batman realized during the mission that the bomb was almost certainly a bluff. So he left the man alone to kill himself. Later we discover the man had a history of mental illness. So this, to Batman, is justice? Batman almost certainly realized the man was being manipulated and that he'd definitely kill himself to blow the bomb and Batman let the man do it. Batman is a fucking monster. After the event, the media points out that the terrorists were mostly composed of 60s radical groups like the Weathermen and the Black Panthers. Which is odd because there wasn't one black terrorist in the bunch. The issue ends with Max Lord talking to himself and admitting to being the one who staged the terrorist attack. He also knew the leader was unstable enough to kill himself for the cause and he sent him in with a bomb that definitely wouldn't blow. So he's a fucking monster as well. And Martian Manhunter is a monster, not because he's a weirdo martian, but because he basically popped the heads on a few of the terrorists. No way will I believe those guys hanging from the ceiling by their necks survived! All in all, Guy Gardner is starting to look like a rational member of this group! Justice League #1 Rating: B+. A better than average start to the new Justice League, building some intrigue and conflict right from the start. Who is Max Lord? What are his plans for the Justice League? Why is he acting like it's his group? Will Doctor Fate ever return? Will Oberon poison Guy Gardner? Will Black Canary and Doctor Light become best friends because they're the only women in the League? Will Guy Gardner and Batman ever come to blows? I can answer that! They will not! They'll just come to blow. One punch by Batman. And that one punch causes some severe psychological trauma to Gardner and nobody thinks he should get medical help simply because he starts acting nicer. They're all fucking monsters!

#Justice League #Kevin Maguire #Keith Giffen #J.M. DeMatteis #Terry Austin

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finleyjayne · 5 years ago

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Break a Leg Chapter 3: Take Two

A/N: Thank you for waiting so long for this chapter. There were so many choices that had to be made as to where I wanted to take this. I decided (with the help of my best friend who is so done with this story that it’s not even funny) that this was the most honest option. Let me know what you think! Also all songs referenced are linked via their names/first reference if unnamed.

Series Summary: After your accident, everything in your life changed. Your shared dream of being on Broadway with your best friend, Amanda, was over. But just because YOU don’t think you want the same things in life doesn’t mean that your friend won’t see through you. Taking matters into her own hands, you end up at an audition you’re sure that you’ll fail since SHIELD Theater Company is known the world over for typecasting. And you don’t fit any of your typical actress types. Little do you know that the company’s new writer - nihilistic, pessimistic, and resident drunk; Bucky Barnes- is looking for someone out of their normal choices.

Series Warnings: Guys, this is based on my own experiences within the Acting community after gaining weight and height after an accident. There will be fat-shaming, mentions of eating disorders, unhealthy expectations, unhealthy coping mechanisms, also like bias based on looks.

Chapter 1 | Previous Chapter | Masterlist

Warnings for this chapter include but are not limited to: Swearing, Angst, eating disorder (if you squint), unrealistic audition process (because I can), PTSD dreams, Anxiety attack, Hurt/Comfort, dance injury descriptions, Amanda almost getting her face punched.

Word Count: 2,336

The familiar feel of gathered tulle whispered around your legs as you float across the stage. Your feet burn with the tiny movements that pushed you across the stage. The choreography was new, but you already knew it by heart. After all, you have been dreaming of playing this role ever since you had seen the show all those years ago. The steps sped, and as you approached the leap of faith, That leap would pull on the fly lines. You knew something was wrong. There was the slightest of whirrs from the top left pulley, pulling you up short.

"Why did you stop? You have the fly lines on, It's step, turn, turn, and leap." Your director yelled from the darkened house.

"There is something wrong with the left pulley." You say back. "It's making a funny noise."

"That's just the way of pulleys, Y/N. Let's run it from the top of the number, this time with the fly."

"I really don't think so," you mutter as you take your place in the side wings. Amanda meets you there. She hands you a water bottle, which you sip from as the interlude plays.

"You can do it. Trust yourself, Y/N."

"I trust myself just fine. The person I don't trust is the rigging guy who is currently snogging his girlfriend instead of paying attention to his job."

"It's going to be fine, Y/N." She says, rolling her eyes and pushing you towards the stage for your cue.

As the dance progresses, you stop focusing on the steps and just feel the movement. You really were the fairy: light, agile, and completely ethereal. You take the two turns perfectly and leap off the stage and into the audience. You feel yourself relax as you swing above the seats, being lifted higher until you were suspended in the center of the stage. You continued to dance, then something went wrong, there was a hard yank from that left pulley. It unbalanced you, pulling taut as the secondary line went slack. As more of your weight was given to it, a loud grinding and a high-pitched ping echoed over the sounds of the music as you fell to the stage floor. Before anyone can do anything, you fall.

Your jolt out of your sleep suddenly, an invisible weight pressing on your chest. Your heartbeat is blaring in your ears as you fight to breathe. Shivers raking up and down your body. Unable to move even the tips of your fingers as tears blur your perception of your dim room. After what seems to be hours of laying there suffocating, your breathing turns into sobs. You are finally able to move, though, as you roll onto your side, trying to curl into the fetal position, a scream echos into the silence. Your busted up leg sends phantom pains through you, cramping and pulling with unnatural tension. It was a charlie horse from hell, and you rationally knew that most of it was fake.

Amanda runs in a few seconds later with a pink aluminum baseball bat, looking around for the disturbance, when she finds none she turns to you. "Y/N, what is it?"

You just stared at her, unable to move as phantom pain shot up and down your leg. Memories of blood and bone hide behind your eyelids, torturing you with every blink.

She stares at you for a few minutes before slowly setting the bat down. and coming to hold you. "It was the dream again, wasn't it." She cradles your head, maneuvering you as carefully as she can into her arms. "Hush now, it's okay. We are here, that is the past. You don't ever have to fly again. Rehearsals will all be on the ground for your new show. All you have to do is a little choralography. It will be fine. You won't get hurt."

Her reassuring calm, paired with her arms stroking up and down your back, are a balm to your terrified mind. Your sobs ebb. Taking a few deep breaths, you sit yourself up, pulling away from her, immediately feeling guilty for waking her this early. "thank you, 'Manda. It really means a lot."

"It's the least I can do when my best friend is struggling. Now, why don't you take a nice hot shower? I'll get breakfast started, and then we can head over to Rijah's before your audition today."

"Sure," you say noncommittally, you didn't really feel like eating, but you knew it would make her feel better to see you fed before she sends you to the sharks again. "Would you like to play live-action barbie today? I mean, you did say that today's audition would be special," you ask her on her way to the kitchen.

"I think you should wear that cute new swing dress—the one with the pink halter and the black skirt. Go light on the make-up. Doe eyes," she called from the kitchen.

"Okay. Are we going to be meeting with our agent today or is this another one of those, he gave you a list and expects us both to be there sort of deal?" You ask, wincing as you try to distract yourself from the pain as you rub the cramps out of your leg.

"Well, it's kinda just one audition today. I know you don't want to go back, but I was promised by Steve that if you show up, they will listen to you--"

At that, you were up and in the kitchen. Staring your friend down in your scanty sleepwear. "Please don't tell me that I'm auditioning for Stark's Theater again. I mean, he already kicked me to the curb once. What makes you think that he won't show up just to kick me out again?" You sneer, half-naked, and ready to punch her in her too pretty face.

"It's not Stark's theater troupe anymore, he has taken a back seat this year, leaving Miss Potts to handle more of it while he moves into the movie industry. You will be fine. Like I said, Steve has been nagging me all year for your contact details so he could offer you a personal invitation. I told him that you would go if you wanted. I mean, I'm still going to make you go with me to the building. Remember, you promised that after last year, you wouldn't pass up a chance to sing for anyone. Not anymore. Especially with your boss being as chill as he is."

The fight drains from your shoulders as she uses your own words against you. You are still annoyed that she is taking you to an audition for SHIELD, again, though. Stomping back to your bathroom, you slam the door. "Why do my friends always take me at my word?" you ask yourself as you hang your head over the sink basin. Taking a few more deep breaths, you push down your new-formed audition anxiety.

Fixing yourself up and packing a set of exercise clothes for your rehearsal later, as well as your repertoire binder, resume, and pair of ballet slippers. It hadn't taken long to get into something after reapplying yourself. Even though the show you were in at the moment was a two-day ballet in the park for little kids. But it was something, and it paid enough to put it on your resume.

You hurried in the shower, letting the steam take away more of the tension from your body as you scrubbed yourself. As the water starts running clear of bubbles, you close your eyes, envisioning an alternative ending to your dream. In your new version, Bucky, your unconventional knight in shining army, that handsome man who had come to your rescue all those months ago, comes and catches you before you are flown too high. He takes your hand, pulling you close, his breath whispering across your face as his blue-grey eyes stare into yours. He leans forward, your lips part… Amanda is shouting from the other side of the door that breakfast was ready before you finished the thought.

With a different kind of sigh, you pull yourself out of the cooling water, and back into real life.

Amanda and Elijah have once again outdone themselves with their song choice for you. You couldn't help but laugh as they put their top three options in front of you, Better from Little Women, If You Knew My Story from Bright Star, and I'm a Star from Smash.

"So what's the cut time Amanda?" you ask, paging through the three songs.

"They want the whole thing." Amanda and Elijah said in unison. Amanda looking at you with barely withheld excitement, and 'Rijah with his usual sophomanic way.

"They want the whole song? or they want all the different cuts prepared so they can choose?" You couldn't believe that they would want a whole three-minute song. That just seems overboard.

"The whole song. Steve asked for it personally. " She said, smiling, "This is going to be it, Y/N! This is going to be it! We are finally going to be in an acting company together! I can feel it! Now sing the songs. Let's see which one will fit best!"

Your heart beats fast in your chest. The whole song, they wanted the entire song. No one wants the complete song. Sometimes they don't even want the entire song at a callback. You couldn't help but stare openmouthed at your best friend. What exactly was going on today? You hadn't felt this many emotions in a single day since last year.

Before you can really contemplate which god had decided to smile in your direction, Elijah starts playing the introduction for the first few bars of Bright Star. Even then, Elijah has to repeat the intro twice before Amanda finally pinched you back into the moment. Immediately you jumped into it. Hazily stumbling through the first two measures before Elijah stopped playing.

He looked at you, annoyed. "Y/N, if you ain't gunna sing, don't pretend like it."

You shook yourself at the reprimand. "I'm sorry. If I get to sing a whole song, can we do something else? Better is an excellent power song, but it is very repetitive. I wanna give them a show. Something that will wow them. But I don't want to give off the vibe that I am still butt-hurt over last year. I want to show them I can take the initiative and work hard."

Elijah smirked, "Okay, what about weekly volcano press? It has some of the same stuff, and kinda rounds out what she did to improve. Also, you can play with all of your different character voices."

You give him a funny look, "What do you mean? And isn't that song like 8 minutes long?"

"You know what I mean. Don't act like I haven't been paying attention to you over the last three years! You sing with different timbres and weights for each character when you are helping Amanda with her practice. Sometimes I feel like I need to check and make sure you aren't switching out your vocal cords for every character."

"Elijah is right! Here! Sheetmusic! She places her tablet on the piano. And it can be a test on Steve's word. If they don't stop you, you know for sure that Steve will keep his words as a director."

You tilt your head back and forth, deliberating, "I don't really want to be petty Amanda."

"Y/N, when in all the years I have known you have you ever chosen not to be petty?" Amanda says, arms crossed over her chest, hip cocked.

"To you never, to everybody else, I try to be considerate more than petty," you meeting her attitude with sincerity.

"Suuure." Elijah and Amanda share an eyeroll.

"Whatever. If you really think that this song would be best, then I will take your advice. However, with my track record, it will end up blowing up in my face," you resign with a sigh looking over Elijah's shoulder as you scan through the score.

"Don't give me that Bullshit, Y/N/N. You will do fine. It's not like I haven't watched you play around with this song. You could probably do it in your sleep." Amanda gave you one of her signature I-know-you-know-you-can-do-this looks. Taking her phone out and pointing it at you. "Now, sing the damn song!"

With a sigh, you straighten back up. You knew they wouldn't let it go. "Fine, but if this becomes a repeat of last year. I will reevaluate our friendship status. Lead the way, Elijah."

Amanda hadn't been lying when she said that you had the song on lock. You breezed through the voice changes. Flipping octaves, effortlessly changing registers, and adapting tonalities. By the time the seven minutes were over, you were slightly winded. Your chest heaved lightly as you were filled with that after-performance high. You knew there were a few places that you hiccupped, but you had a good thirty minutes, and they were easy fixes.

Looking up at your small audience, you should have expected the smug smiles that spread on their faces. Amanda gave you a smirk. "Is there something you would like to tell me?"

"I don't want to tell you shit. But you were right. It is a fun song." You turn to an equally smug Elijah, "can we go over the troll verse again? I messed up the lyrics. And then I'd like to drill the last part where Clarisa comes back to face Braxton. Those quick transitions are a bit different than the Sutton Foster recording, and I don't want to be psyched out either way."

"Whatever I can do to help you," Elijah says, turning back to the piano.

"I'll go print the music for your rep binder." Amanda practically squealed, running out of the room, phone in hand.

You shake your head, refocusing on all of the things you needed to refine before this would work.

|Next Chapter|

Tag List: @cavillanche @buckys-broody-muffin @tossacoin2yourwitcher @star-spangled-beard-burn

#Break a Leg #Writer!Bucky #Actress!reader #Acting Troupe AU #bucky x reader #Marvel #Bucky Barnes x Reader #fins writes #I am trying #finally updating #fins' fic recs #fins reads #fins' recs #fins recs fics #fanfiction #so good

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frizz22 · 5 years ago

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Heavy is the Head

Hilda doesn’t let Zelda go back under the pretense of the Caligari spell.

Notes: This has been half finished in my drafts for ages, so sorry if it's an old idea. But it always bothered me that no one objected to Zelda going back after saying it was torture... anyway, hope you enjoy! Read on ao3

Zelda sniffed in distaste as she picked up the bag with what remained of Leviathan. Steeling herself against the nausea roiling through her, Zelda forced her mask back into place.

Going back was the only way. Pretending, pretending to still be under the Caligari spell was the only way to keep them all safe and alive.

Deftly flipping her hair over her shoulder, Zelda sighed. “The things I do for this family.” She quipped, doing her best to sound unaffected by this decision.

As she made to leave, though, Hilda caught her arm. “I can’t.” She shook her head, lips pressed tightly together. “I can’t let you go back, Zelds.”

Touched by her sister’s concern, Zelda gave her a small smile. “Hildie, I appreciate it, but there’s really no other—"

“We’ll find one.” Her sister interrupted, looking at her earnestly. “You said it was torture. This would be no different, or, or maybe it’d be even worse. I’m not letting you go back there either way.”

Forcing back tears of gratitude, Zelda swallowed hard. “Then what do you suggest we do? Faustus is expecting me back, if I don’t return, he’ll know, and Hell knows what would happen to Ambrose.”

A wicked smile curled her sister’s lips. “Oh, I have just the thing.” Eyes gleaming with rare malice, Hilda took her hand and led Zelda into the greenhouse.

Frowning, Zelda set the bag of mouse remains down and let herself be ushered deeper into the house. “Hilda...” she hedged. As much as she wanted an alternative, if they took too long Faustus would deduce something; he wasn’t an idiot, though he played the part convincingly enough at times.

Hilda held up a finger and flicked her free wrist to gather the supplies she needed. After everything floated to her worktable, Hilda arched a brow at Zelda. “A poppet.” She added, a little unnecessarily, given Zelda had recognized everything from when they made one for Shirley.

She huffed in disbelief. “Well, if it’s not broke...” she mumbled, joining her sister at the table. And it really was quite brilliant. Faustus would never be entrapped by a Caligari spell; he’d be too wary of any musical device after what he’d done to her.

They worked together in near silence, only occasionally asking to be handed an item. When the poppet was done, Hilda held up the tin of ear worms once more. “Take two, just to increase the strength.” She murmured, scowling at the miniature Faustus doll Zelda was holding. “Can’t chance the bastard wriggling his way out somehow.”

Only too happy to comply, Zelda slipped two worms inside the poppet’s head and sewed it shut as she and Hilda sang the spell.

Once finished, Hilda looked up at her. “And now, we kill him.” She murmured darkly, likely picturing all the gruesome ways they could make Faustus kill himself.

Smiling cruelly, Zelda weighed the poppet in her hand. “No.” She breathed, possibilities flashing through her mind of how else they could approach this. While she wanted to punish Faustus, killing him was too easy, too final. “I have much better plans for him than death.” Feeling lighter than she had since that cursed spell was forced on her, Zelda winked at her sister, picked up the bag full of Leviathan, and teleported away.

~~~

Faustus looked up from his book when she reappeared. Arching a brow, he marked his spot. “Run into trouble, dearest? It took you some time.”

Daintily placing the bag on his book, smothering a smile at how he sneered at how it leaked onto the pages, Zelda clasped her hands together. “They cloaked the mouse, husband, thinking they were being clever. I found it and dealt with it as you instructed.”

“Of course you did, Zelda.” He stood and rounded the table to stand in front of her. “Because you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” Faustus stroked the back of his fingers along her cheek before slipping his hand into her hair.

And oh, how such an action would have made her feel, even just a week ago, before the spell. Now it took all her self-control not to shred him for daring to touch her.

Carefully keeping her face blank except an empty smile, Zelda nodded despite the nausea growing in her stomach.

“I have something else for you, your Excellency.” Zelda added as Faustus turned to pick up his drink. He hummed and reached for the decanter to refill his glass without looking at her. Letting the Caligari demeanor drop, Zelda stepped up behind him and started to sing into his ear.

The worms crawl in, the worms crawl out, the worms play pinochle on your snout. They eat your eyes, they eat your nose, they eat the jelly between your toes.

The drink fell from Faustus’ hand and he stiffened. Pleased with herself, Zelda rounded her husband and gave him and assessing look.... he was fully bound by her spell.

Lifting her chin, Zelda smirked and moved to settle in his chair, propping her feet up on his desk. “Faustus, dearest,” she mocked the endearment, “pour me a drink.”

Face blank, Faustus moved automatically to fulfill her order.

As the warmth of victory and revenge spread through her, Zelda lit a cigarette, taking a long, satisfying drag and blowing the smoke into Faustus’ face before she took the drink from him.

“Very good, husband.” She huffed in amusement at the title. “Now, sit and listen like a good little Antipope.” When he complied, Zelda continued. “I entered this marriage for power. And sex,” she admitted, “the sex was incredible and why would I have denied myself? It seemed such a simple marriage, both of us enjoying power and sex so why not get more of each by working together. But you had to go and reach beyond yourself. Tried to turn that power on me.” She tsked and knocked some ash off her cigarette. “You should have known better. Should have known you couldn’t control me, not for long at least. So now, as your punishment, I’ll control you.”

She took a sip and watched Faustus carefully, ensuring no facial tics indicating he wasn’t fully under her spell. Satisfied, she continued. “Only I did it better. Nothing to smash to end my spell... seems I’ve bested you again, Faustus, just like in our academy days.” Zelda arched a brow and took another drag of nicotine. “Sadly, I still need you. Don’t go convincing yourself it’s sentimental, it’s that you’re too powerful to waste. I’d have killed you by now otherwise. No,” she sighed and knocked back the rest of her drink and held out the glass to him, Faustus immediately stood to fill it. “I have to keep you if I want to rule. The witching realm isn’t ready for a witch leader, misogynistic as most warlocks are. So, I’ll rule through you, make sweeping reforms, raise up witches...” she looked off to the side, a small smile tugging her lips as she envisioned the future. Refocusing on the warlock in front of her, Zelda dropped her feet to the ground and stood. “I suppose all your conniving paid off in the end, I’d never be able to make such a difference with a mere High Priest for a husband, an Antipope though...” she lifted a brow and stubbed out her cigarette. “Clean up this mess, Faustus,” she indicated to the bag still leaking mouse fluids on the book, “and then come find me, we have a lot of work to do.”

~~~

The following years passed smoothly.

Her reforms were questioned at first, but with Antipope Faustus as her mouthpiece the witching realm accepted them as the Dark Lord’s will and adopted them with alacrity and enthusiasm.

Sometimes, to toy with Faustus and gloat, rub his face in how well the witching realm was doing with her as the ruler, Zelda would let him surface—with a number of restrictive spells, of course.

Tonight was one of those times. Zelda had just passed a law stating witches could hold positions of power within their covens and the Churches of Darkness.

Lounging on the couch in what was technically Faustus’ office, Zelda watched as the warlock struggled against his bounds. “I won’t need you much longer, dear husband.” She informed him, eyes gleaming cruelly. “As I’m sure you’re aware, you’ve praised me highly to both the High Council and the witching realm as the inspiration for all these popular reforms, for the peace we’ve been enjoying. With this new law, I will be the logical choice to become the next Antipope when you meet a sudden and unfortunate end. I’ll mourn you publicly, of course, but then I’ll bravely rally to carry the cause my late husband and I worked so hard to further. The High Council will fall over themselves in their haste to appoint me.”

“You won’t get away with it.” Faustus forced through clenched teeth, eyes a little manic. “You’ll crumble under the power and pressure.”

She smirked and continued to paint her nails. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown, dearest. You’d know, you crumbled pathetically fast under the weight when you got your hands on it. Fortunately for the witching realm, I wear and bear the crown so much better.”

Before he could argue further, Zelda cocked her head. “The worm crawls in...” she sang, inspecting her now finished manicure, and Faustus was back under.

Muttering a quick spell to dry her nails, Zelda teleported home, perhaps Hilda would have some creative ideas for murdering her husband and making it look an accident when the time came.

#caos #caos fanfiction #caos fic #Chilling Adventures of Sabrina #Zelda Spellman #hilda spellman #faustus blackwood #anti-spellwood #netflix #ao3 #AO3 fanfic #ao3fic #mentions of #ambrose spellman #shirley jackson #fanfiction #fanfic

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fasa-umich · 4 years ago

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Jolene Soriano, FASA 2020-21 Co-Social Chair

Oh, hey FASA, didn’t see you there. It’s me, one of your co-social chairs this year, Jolene. You’re probably wondering how I ended up here. My story begins in a small town in the west side of Michigan where I had no real ties to my culture other than whatever my mom decided to cook up for dinner and the functions my parents had with the very few other Filipinos in Holland. I grew up always feeling a little out of place and always feeling the need to hide my culture from my friend group. When it came to my junior and senior year of high school, one of the biggest factors for me in deciding where to go for college was wanting to be in an environment where I could comfortably express myself and my culture. With that being said, I put in a deposit for Grand Valley State University, another predominantly white school. Not to bash on that school or anything, it’s a good school, it’s just I would’ve had a repeat of my high school days. Obviously, I did not end up going to GVSU and I ended up changing my mind and submitted my deposit for the University of Michigan the day before deposits were due. The biggest reason why I ended up changing my decision was because of the opportunities available at Michigan, that I couldn’t get anywhere else. One of these opportunities being FASA. So, when I got to Michigan, I waddled up to the table at Festifall, got info for their mass meeting, sat in on the mass meeting, ate some Insomnia Cookies, and ended up committing a large amount of time to the org.

For those of you who met me last year, you may know that at the first few events I ever went to I spoke a total of maybe five words. So you might be wondering how this literally silent person wound up as social chair, a position that requires speaking maybe more than five words. For this, you’ll have to thank Aber John Espinoza. I know I make fun of him kind of frequently (every chance I get), but I do genuinely have to thank him for providing a space in his Modern Tinik sets for me to finally get comfortable and start opening up to people. AJ’s naturally friendly and sociable personality allowed me, an unbearably shy individual, to start forging the bonds and friendships I have now. He was the one to kickstart whatever “sociable” nature I have in FASA. When I ran for social chair, the main thing I wanted to accomplish was creating a space similar to the 8PM to 10PM Modern Tinik practices in all of my social events and initiatives. I wanted to make sure everyone, new or old, had a place where they could express themselves and open up safely and start making those friendships in FASA that really will last a lifetime. Hopefully, that was something I was able to accomplish during my time in this position.

modern tinik origin story s/o aj (black shirt in the back set of sticks)

Social chair was not exactly what I had expected, granted COVID did not help anything. The ideas I had originally envisioned were no longer feasible, and online events were the only thing that my co-chair Jason and I could do. After our first few online events in June with Independence Day Spirit Week, I disliked hosting online events. At first, the events felt awkward, there were lag issues, the list went on. However, we pushed ourselves to think outside of the box and committed to making these social events fun, even if they were virtual. It was not easy to say the least. We didn’t have anyone to ask about how to make an online event “fun” since no one’s ever had to pull one off, and even if we did have ideas that we wanted to do, they weren’t exactly always feasible online. Nonetheless, we were committed to making these events as fun as possible and the result of that were literally hundreds of meetings and thousands of hours spent over the course of the year. You may think I’m exaggerating that time, but honestly I don’t think I am. Not only were we busy with these events, we were also launching the first ever year long FAM competition-- POTTER. This initiative had its own set of challenges from making the rules, the scoreboard, points, keeping in communication with FAM heads, the list goes on and on. We juggled our events, POTTER, and all the other board responsibilities that were asked of us.

welcomed the weekend with the best people

You could maybe say that we were a bit ambitious in our goals for our tenure, which might have caused us more stress than if we had just stuck to the traditional social events done. There could be some truth in that statement. I mean, we didn’t have to put in that level of effort into our events or into POTTER. But it would also be literally so embarrassing if we were that org and just did something basic like Kahoot at every social event. More importantly though, especially in the times of a panoramic and isolation, maintaining friendships and being social is crucial to one’s well-being. This is one of the main reasons why we worked especially hard. Although there were many instances where I questioned why I was putting in so much effort or allowing myself to incur so much stress, I feel rewarded at the end of the day. When I look back on the year and the things I’ve accomplished, I feel proud that I was able to do all the things I wanted and more. It also makes me feel good that I might’ve been able to create the same space AJ made for me. I would say that whatever stress or negative emotions I felt during my time on board was worth it.

FASA board has provided me with many invaluable experiences I wouldn’t trade for the world, from the countless midnight parties, boardie hangouts, stressful weeks and events, and meeting so many amazing people. FASA board has pushed me out of my comfort zone in a good way, forcing my introverted self to initiate conversations with awkward freshmen trying to navigate their way through their first year and leading zoom calls filled with many people. I’ve also learned the importance of teamwork, collaboration, and asking for help. It’s so easy to think “this is my event, so I have to do this on my own,” but in reality that’s just making more work for yourself. I’ve never been a part of a team that has worked so closely together, and I am so grateful I had the opportunity to have been supported by an amazing cast of characters.

charlie ft. trad #charlie supremacy

Ok, so this is the part where I’m going to go through a list of thank yous and messages to certain individuals. To Board, I don’t think there are enough thank you’s in the world to express the gratitude for you all. You all have been there for me whenever I’ve needed it the most and helped me throughout all the tough times this year. You all are smashing individuals and I wouldn’t have wanted to work with anyone else this year. To AJ, thank you for being the foundation of my time in FASA. I don’t think you realize just how much your existence has impacted my journey in FASA and on board and without you I don’t think I would have had the experience I’ve had if it wasn’t for you. I will dearly miss you when you inevitably graduate and I will try to continue your legacy of making FASA a safe space for everyone. Ok, I think that it’s for all the sappy words for you we’ll go back to our regularly scheduled programming of roasting AJ. To Sean Herrera and Bea Fandino, thank you for being the boardie boomers I could always go to. I will always be grateful for Midnight Party being the thing that brought us all closer together and started a friendship that no one saw coming. Also, sorry for all the random and questionable texts I’ve sent at odd hours of the night, but I hope you were able to get some entertainment out of it. To Kristina Mallabo, thank you for always entertaining my shenanigans and driving me to Fuller when I don’t want to walk 20 minutes. You truly have become one of my best friends and I wouldn’t trade you for the world (except for my anime boys but that’s to be expected). Hmmm… I think that’s all for my messages and thank yous… LOL just kidding how could I ever forget to thank the one person who’s kept me sane throughout this entire year… Park Jimin <3

KIDDING! I’M KIDDING! The last person I’d like to talk about in this testimonial is none other than Jason Portugal. A somewhat unlikely friendship born from the 8PM to 10PM Modern Tinik practices and late night Victor’s Pushes at Mojo. Mr. Portugal has been one of my closest friends since I joined FASA, and I don’t think there was another person I would’ve wanted to run for social chair with. I was really lucky to have one of my best friends as my co-chair and go through thick and thin with him. I genuinely do not believe I would’ve been able to make it through this year without Jason. I would like to thank him for making all of the late night meetings, stress, and countless hours bearable, for all the laughs, memories, and shenanigans, and for being someone I can be vulnerable with. I don’t think I could envision a life without Jason Portugal and he is a pillar of my life that I could not go without. Thank you, Jason, for everything you’ve done for me this year and for working together with me to accomplish the things we’ve done. We did it.

putting the “jj” in “jjk” (we love you kris)

Before I wrap this testimonial up, I’d like to write a message for next year’s socials. This board position is a lot of work, but I assure you that if you truly love what you’re doing, it’ll all be worth it in the end. I don’t think I can stress the importance of having fun with what you’re doing. You can’t expect general members at your event to have fun, if you’re not also having fun. The energy you give is the energy you’ll receive. Also, be sure to rely on your co-chair! You don’t have to be best friends or anything, but they are with you for your entire tenure and you go through so much together. Be sure to always keep in constant communication with each other! My wish for whoever carries on the social chair legacy is that they are passionate about instilling a welcome and safe space at every social event.

With that being said, I’ve come to the conclusion of this testimonial. I will miss working with everyone on board, contributing to FASA’s community through social events, and turning visions of event ideas into reality. I will not miss spamming the GroupMe with all of my announcement messages though. I’m looking forward to what next year’s board brings and am excited to participate in social events rather than planning them! Thank you FASA for allowing me to provide you with hopefully fun social events and activities this year. FASA has become such a large part of my life and I could not imagine my life without it. Maraming Salamat from the bottom of my heart.

<3 you all are the best

See you around FASA!:)

Jolene Soriano

#FASASocial #2020.21

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cutmyhairabovemyjaw · 6 years ago

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Heaven and Hell Bound - Tommy Shelby ~ Part 5

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Hi Guys. Thank you so much for the love and comments, they truly brighten my day. During this part I decided to include some reference pictures of how I envision the clothing during certain scenes in this chapter. Let me know how you feel about these and if you’d like to see more or less of them.

After this part there will be one more chapter set during the war before we move into Birmingham which will loosely follow Season 1 of the show. I’ve been thinking of trying out requests for one-shots with different characters from the show and others. Let me know if you’d be interested in that :) Hope you enjoy reading part 5 and again, any feedback is most welcome. <3 <3.

Tags:

@namelesslosers

Part 5 - The Dance

Y/N’s POV

It had been a month since Tommy was brought to the hospital, a month since I heard his screams, a month since I felt his kiss. And there had not been a single night in which my head was not stormed by thoughts of him. I craved his touch, his smile, his caress. I had written him quickly, just as he had asked. We talked of the mundane, of the gruesome, of the merry. My diary was now filled with sketches he’d drawn and photos he’d sent. Most recently, however, he had requested that I send through one of my nurses ribbons. I was puzzled as to why he would wish for something as plain and simple as this.

“My dearest Y/N,

Please forgive my selfishness as, yet again, I ask for a piece of you. Whilst your photo sits forever in my pocket, I must find some rare time to pause and peacefully admire it. I noticed on my last hospital visit that all the nurses wear white ribbons somewhere on their person. I have had the pleasure of seeing you wear it in your hair and around your delicate wrist. I ask because many soldiers whose lovers volunteer as nurses, tie this ribbon in with the shoelaces on their boots. The idea is that as we soldiers look down at our feet and into the hell we may soon occupy, an angel stops us on our way. Perhaps you are not my lover yet but you are my angel. The Christmas Ball ever approaches. I believe the invitations shall arrive within the next week. I look forward to seeing you there. If you get invited that is. Perhaps the goblin matron of yours wants you all to herself.

Sincerely,

Your Tommy.”

His angel. That’s what he called me. I still believe that my eyes were deceiving me as I read and continued to re-read those words. I sent one away at once. If I could supply any hope or relief in his darkest times, I would gladly do so. Anything to see that stupid perfect smile of his. He was right about the invitations. In fact they arrived the following morning. And when they did, we all got very excited, perhaps Rosaline a little too much.

We sat upon our hill, the freshly delivered mail buzzing in our hands. The air seemed sweeter and the sun brighter as everyone in the hospital radiated excitement as the beautiful red envelopes graced the grey and brown hospital. It seems this year the higher ups have decided to use the annual Christmas ceasefire to up morale. It was nice to see some smiles around here. “You ready?” Ro asks me, her smile wider than before, if that were even possible. I look to her and nod, my eyes wide and ready. Ro tears into the envelope, erratically pulling and tearing, turning the once solid paper into confetti shreds. I laugh before carefully peeling the seal back, trying to preserve the item as best I can, knowing I will want it in it’s best condition for my diary. We simultaneously pull out the letter and read the message.

“Dear service Men and Women,

It is with great pleasure that we invite you to the 1916 Allied Christmas Ball. As a reward for bravely fighting for your king you will enjoy a night of dancing, singing and drinking followed by the second day of the two-day cease fire. Provisions have been provided by the Crown and the public. Formal uniform is expected.

God Save The King.”

I jump as from beside me I hear Ro let out a loud holler of joy and enthusiasm. I laugh and join her as we cheer into the sky. “You know what this means Y/N?” She leans forward, eyes wild. “Oh boy” I say in preparation for her explosion of joy, knowing what is to come next. “Dress up time!” We hoot and holler once more, taking full advantage of this moment. We burst into laughter. Whilst I had grown up on rural farm land with little time for glitz and glam, Rosaline was born into a family which lay on the wealthier side of things. Whilst she rebelled against many aspects of it, she was infatuated with fashion and beauty. One of our many post-war dreams was to attend the most extravagant regal event and cause havoc whilst donning dazzlingly expensive gowns. Whilst this wasn’t exactly that, Ro would make it work. “I’m going to give Tommy the most beautiful date of them all!” She declares, like a Queen to her kingdom. I laugh, the alien feeling of my cheeks hurting from smiling returning for the first time since the war began. She pulls me to my feet and begins to twirl me around, a horrible version of ballroom dancing does ensue. “You two will dance into the night, twirling, giggling, and drinking the whole way through. Before he finally seals the night with true-love's kiss” She puckers her lips out comically. I smash by hand against her mouth and she slobbers on my palm. “ Oh Jesus Ro gross.” I wipe my spit covered hand against my apron. “And then,” she continues, my anxieties growing, fearing what words may following next, “He fucks you well into the night as you howl his name down-” This time I firmly plant my hand over her lips, silencing her ridiculous statement. “Shut the fuck up Ro” I shout-whisper to her, my eyes wide and a blush rampant on my cheeks. I remove my hand, letting out the wild laughter Rosaline had produced. I sigh, shaking my head in shame trying to ignore all of the horrified looks the other nurses were giving us. I let out a small chuckle. “You’re ridiculous you know. Completely and utterly ridiculous.” I say, every word I utter is followed by a small jab to her stomach with my finger, using her ticklish nature to my advantage. “Ok! Ok! I’m sorry,” she surrenders to my actions, “It’s true though”. I simply shake my head once more. Of course I’d had my fair share of intimate thoughts of Tommy, but it was nothing more than a fantasy. Perhaps he shared these thoughts. Perhaps he wished to enact them. Fuck what am I thinking. He might not even dance with me… I hope he does. “Well come on Y/N. We’ve only got a week to prepare so let’s go!” She pulls me out of my train of thought both with her words and her hand which now drags me towards the hospital tent. I still have not decided upon how I feel about the Christmas Ball. Part of me dreads it with my whole existence whilst the other has never been more excited about anything.

The first day of the cease fire had dawned. The peace was unfamiliar, almost unsettling as opposed to the normalised violence of every other day. And with it, the cease fire brought the dreaded Christmas Ball. The nurses gossiped amongst themselves, sharing around what little makeup and products they had managed to keep. Practically every second word that were freed from Rosaline’s brain had something to do with the ball or the dressing up. I was happy for her. She deserved to be happy and play fashion, not to encounter death and sadness on the daily.

Rosaline had already gotten herself ready. She radiated perfect beauty as her red lipstick and black mascara accentuated her doe-eyed complexion. Her ginger hair flowing by her waist as opposed to the tight bun it normally found itself in. As we stood in front of her small mirror, the juxtaposition of complete beauty and myself was accentuated. I wallowed in my gloomy insecurity, looking down to avoid the striking gaze of the mirror. How was I supposed to compare to someone like Ro. How was I supposed to impress someone like Tommy. I felt two small warm hands guide me out of the depths of my brain as Rosaline now held my face. “Y/N listen to me hey? Just listen. When you guys first saw each other you stood still, blown away by each others beauty. And guess what you both looked like? You were in your uniform, you were sweaty and covered in all kinds of gross shit like vomit and blood. And Tommy? He’d just dragged John out of a tunnel so he was covered in bloody dirt and muck and was the most dishevelled we’ll probably ever see him. You guys fell in love while kinda looking like shit.” We laugh, I begin to understand what she’s saying. She continues on, smiling proud, knowing she’d won me over, “He’s going to think you’re absolutely beautiful, ok? Hell everyone’s going to think that. We’ll walk into that ball, arms locked together and stun them into silence. Perhaps a few may even cry,” she proclaims rather melodramatically. I smile, rolling my eyes at her antics. I turn to hug her, grateful for her love. She sits me down in a nearby chair. “Now come on, we’ll miss the bloody thing if we take much longer.” Perhaps he will find me beautiful.

Tommy’s POV

I stand in front of the dirty, sorry excuse we have for a mirror, fiddling with my tie and the buckles on my sleeves. I try, to no avail, to slick my hair back, push it to the side, I try everything to make it decent. Frustration fills me as I wipe my hands down my face. “Fucking fuck it” I exhale. What is she gonna think of the bloody mess that I am. I slam my hat down onto my head, sitting on my bunk to begin to tie my boots. That’s when I see it once more. Y/N’s ribbon. I take it gently between my fingers, closing my eyes and remembering her. I shall not ruin a night that could be filled with her smile, her touch, her eyes, with my silly insecurities. I hear the tent flap bustling as it is pushed open. I look up to see Arthur and John, dressed in the same garb as myself. “Tommy, they are uh, they’ve given the order to start heading off” he says kindly, holding his cap, fidgeting with his fingers. I blink slowly, nodding whilst looking to the ground. I wave one hand, gesturing to them that I’ll catch up. They look to each other, reading the worry written on my face. John moves to sit next to me putting his hand on my shoulder. “Tommy,” he says, the toothpick bouncing between his teeth and lips, “look mate, everything’s gonna be fine. You look fucking ugly as normal.” He laughs, I shoved his shoulder. “Come on now John Boy, tell him the truth” Arthur smiles at his younger brothers. “You look great Tom and she’s gonna look beautiful. So if you don’t get your sorry ass out there, every other fucking guy’s gonna dance with her. And we can’t have that now can we now Arthur”, “No John, course we can’t have that. Plus,” Arthur continues, a smugness tugging at his tongue, “What use would we have for this otherwise?” He pulls out a flask, whiskey no doubt dancing in the bottle. “Now come on, drink up, the Shelby brothers have got some work to do” he proclaims. I stand and laugh. I’d spent the last week dreaming of how this night will go. How’d she look. How’d we dance, drink and smoke. Perhaps even get close. Oh Y/N, what are you doing to me.

Y/N’s POV

An hour later we stand in front of the mirror once more, this time, surprisingly happy thoughts made their way through my mind. Our formal attire projected elegance as our normal uniform paled in comparison. It was clean, shapely, and flattering. Whilst the veil was slightly uncomfortable I had a plan for that. Once everyone had gotten drunk of booze and dancing, no one would pay any mind to a missing veil or two. Rosaline had given me very similar makeup to hers, carving stark black lines around my eyes, and a scarlet scenery to the hills and crests of my lips. If the notion of the fighting starting up again in two days was not present, perhaps truly good fun could be had, and true happiness could be felt. I stop myself from dwelling on this, everyday could be our last, and if my last involves dancing and Tommy that’s fine by me. “Ladies start filling through to the tent please!” Rosaline and I turn to the source of the noise, a high ranking soldier gives the order. A wave of cheering pours out from the nurses. A smile breaks onto my face. “Well come on then slow poke!” Ro runs forward, dragging me by my hand. “Wait wait wait! I have something for Tommy.” I run back, reaching into my diary, pulling out the small origami horse I had made for him. Quickly, I place it in my pocket before Rosaline’s beady eyes could ask any questions. “Ok. Let’s do this”. We loop our arms together. Our heads high. Stepping in time. We will take on the world, or at least the dance floor.

(Y/N’s POV on left, Tommy’s bumped to the right)

I finally catch a glimpse of the massive white tent which would soon house many a drunkard soldier and stumbling nurse. It seems they collected every light source from every bunk as the scene was set alight with beautiful bulbs and strings. It reminded me of one of those fancy christmas trees I would ogle at in shop windows. The music filled my ears, as did the tapping of shoes, and harmonized singing. A makeshift bar had been set up, tables and chairs too. My heart swells with excitement as Ro and I beam with joy. I hadn’t spotted Tommy yet, and it may yet be a task to do so as more and more people crowd in.

“Oi Oi!” Arthur yells as we enter the large tent. “It’s a fucking riot in here ain’t it” John speaks, before spitting on the floor. I watch as the dancing erupts onto the floor, amused by the singing antics of the already drunk. “Look at some of the birds in here mate. You’d have to pay a pretty penny to get with one of them back in Small Heath.” Arthur drools over the women, the party letting out the beast in some of them. “Well boys,” I begin, lighting my cigarette, “Go get drunk, get into as many fights as you can and go for any woman you like. Just not mine.” John whoops and claps, “Thatta Boy Tommy. Now John Boy, we’ve got some work to do.” They walk off, leaving me to myself.

“This is amazing Y/N! Have you seen some of the blokes in here?” Rosaline exclaims to me. Turns out her lover Edward hadn’t died, rather he’d being fucking their resident nurse over there. Nothing motivates Rosaline quite like revenge with a side of free drink. “Go have fun Ro. You deserve it.” I spur her on, knowing she ached for some fun and freedom. “You sure you’ll be ok?” I nod in response. “Now go you bloody minx, go!” I push her towards the group of dancing soldiers. I laugh and make my way to the bar. Besides I had a mission of my own.

Find Tommy.

Find Y/N. That’s what I had to do. I walk through the dance floor, noticing her friend Rosaline tearing up a storm. Yet my Y/N was not with her. Come on Y/N. I kept walking making my way to the rudimentary bar. Please be there.

I sat at the bar, not yet finding Thomas. Perhaps he’d been dancing. I smile at the thought. The night had only begun, I mustn't worry now. I begin to make my way over to the dancing circle. Come on Tommy, where are you?

3rd Person POV

Little did they know at this point that they had both been looking for each other.

Little did they know they were headed straight for one another.

In a parting of the crowds filled with dancing drunks, they saw each other.

Their eyes meeting, just as they had that fateful first day.

He looked unbelievably handsome.

She was breathtakingly beautiful.

They swam in each other’s eyes.

Silence filled their ears.

They peered each other up and down, taking in their elegant costume.

Neither of their feet moved.

For all one knows their hearts were beating too fast, or perhaps not beating at all.

Instead she waved.

A small flick of the fingers and a smile.

He laughs and returns the gesture.

As they walk to each other, the same thought plagues their minds.

Maybe tonight I’ll tell him.

Maybe tonight I’ll tell her.

Y/N’s POV.

We now stand face to face, awe spread across my cheeks. He looks at me with the biggest smile I’ve seen painting his profile. “Hello Sergeant Major Thomas Shelby”, I courtesy, deciding to play into this royal fantasy that our outfits created. “Why, you look ravishing Sister Y/N L/N”, he bows, taking one of my hands and places a gentle kiss on it. “Fuck off Tom”, we both laugh, he extends his arm for me to take hold of. I gladly do so. We wander together this time to the bar, taking a seat on the crates that had been scrounged together. “Two Whiskeys please” Tommy orders, leaning his elbow on the table. “So, I see that Rosaline is quite the dancer.” We look out, watching her as she flows from soldier to soldier, her skirt twirling and her hair flowing. “Oh yeah. I feel bad for any other girl that even attempts to get on that dance floor.” I respond, proud of my best friend and she wraps all those boys around her finger. “And what about you Y/N, do you dance?” he asks, grabbing his glass of now delivered whiskey as I do the same. I leaned forward and new wave of air taking over me, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He smirks, playfully scoffing. “Well then,” He downs his whole glass, slamming it on the table before standing up, offering a hand to me. I following his actions, chugging my drink before hammering my glass down, taking his hand. “Let’s put you to the test then hey?”

We danced and danced and danced. We danced wildly, we danced passionately, we danced carefully. My head was now rested upon his shoulder as we swayed in each other’s arms. Our eyes rest closed, not a care in the world. I feel the vibrations in his chest as he hums along to the music. The party had well and truly died down. People had either gone back to their bunks, had collapsed on the floor or were savouring the last dance. Over the course of the night I had met Arthur and John, they were bruised and bleeding after just getting out of a fight of course, I’d drank way too much and blisters covered my feet from dancing. But I didn’t care. It was a perfect evening with Tommy. He called me beautiful, he’d kissed my cheek. I wonder if my face was now stained red, a blush had become a regular to cross my face. I looked up to admire him, his eyes still calm and closed. I had utterly and completely fallen for Thomas Shelby. But this thought brought more sadness with it than I anticipated. Tommy was a soldier, everyday could be his last. If he makes it home we live in different towns. We had completely foreign lives back in England. I worry that the intensity of the war had amplified our feelings, meaning outside of the fighting, there would be none. I fear I care for him more than he cares for me. I squeeze him tight, not ever wanting to let go. He opens his eyes and squeezes back, looking down to me worried. “You ok pretty girl?” He asks letting go of my hand and waist and instead, places his hands on my cheeks. I meet his blue-sky eyes and sigh into his touch, resting my hand on top of his. “I’m ok, just worrying about silly future stuff.” He laughs, “Silly future stuff hey? Don’t worry about that hey, just enjoy right now. That’s what they teach you down in the tunnels. Think about living now, in this very minute, the soldier’s minute. Just you and me hey?” I nodded timidly, his beauty still making me shy. We dance for a few moments more, savouring every touch and every look.

“Y/N?” I hear Rosaline call from behind me, a slight slur to her words. I turn to see her and a soldier practically holding each other up. “Me and this Noah here are heading back to our bunk. So uh...you might wanna find somewhere else to sleep…” They giggle amongst themselves. I roll my eyes, both happy she’s having fun, but not so happy about sleeping someplace else. “Play nice Rosaline. Now go on, have fun,” they cheer and smile to each other before turning around and stumbling out. “And no fun on my bunk!” I add. “No promises!” She yells back. “Cheeky fucker” I whisper to Tom. He laughs in response. “So where will you go now?” he asks, concern lacing his voice. “Well I suppose one of the hospital bunks will probably be free…” I kick my feet against the ground, realising how uncomfortable it will be. “I uh, I might have a solution,” he begins, scratching the back of his head, “John and Arthur have both gone back to their girl’s rooms, therefore...Why not stay with me?” My eyes fly up to meet his, “Really!” He laughs at my excitement. “I-i mean if that’s ok with you. I don’t want to intrude”, I stammer on, embarrassed by my reaction. He leans his forehead on to mine, “Y/N?” I hum in response, “Shut up” he jests. I laugh trying to brush away awkwardness. “Now come on, before any other drunk offers you their bunk.”

We walk hand in hand, enjoying the silence all the way back to his bunk. As I enter the space I take in my surroundings. I notice the 3 small bunks, one for each brother. I watch Tommy sit on the furthest bunk and begin to take his boots off. I walk over to join him, analysing what trinkets lay on his table. I try to remember everything. A diary, papers, cigarettes and matches, a knife and photographs, many many photographs. I flick through them, observing a younger Tommy surrounded by his family. I attempt to match the names Thomas had given me to the faces in the photos. Ada, Polly, Finn. They looked happy... I hope my present would fit perfectly within the decor of his table. “Tommy,” I begin, turning towards him, my hands clasped behind me to try and hide my nervousness. He was now wearing only his sleep shirt, and his trousers. He meets my eyes but I can’t help but look him up and down. He steps towards me, nodding for me to continue. “I have a Christmas present for you.” His eyes widen, a confused smile tugs on his lips. “A Christmas present?” I nod, now excited. “Sit down and close your eyes” I order, pulling him back to the bed. I sit next to him, waiting for him to do the same. “Now stop looking at me and close your eyes.” He leans forward, still experiencing the waves of alcohol “You’re so pretty tho” he drags out the last syllable. “Tommy close your eyes and put your hands out” He still leans towards me, “Now”. He huffs and finally does so. I gently pull out the origami horse from my pocket, laying it in his hands. I watch his fingers jolt slightly at the feeling. “Ok, now you can open.” His eyes open, yet he sits silently, taking the horse in his fingers, examining it closer.

I can’t read the expression on his face and I begin to worry. “I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid I shouldn’t have-” He cuts me off. But not with his words. With his lips. My eyes stare wide, shocked at the action before I melt into the kiss. It’s perfect. It’s everything Rosaline describes from her romance book. It’s everything my dreams had wished for. After what feels like hours, we pull apart. “Thank you Y/N. I-i I don’t even know what to say.” Thomas speaks quietly, a loving softness to his voice. “You’re welcome Tommy. It’s a thank you for all that you’ve done for me.” He places it upon his desk, admiring it for the moment. “Would you mind if we lay down...together” He asks, his eyes pleading for a yes. I can’t seem to form words at this point. Instead I simply nod. We get comfortable, I removed my shoes and veil before laying beside him. He wraps his arms around me as my head rests upon his chest. “Y/N? Can you promise me something?” I lift my head, noticing the vulnerability wobbling his words. “Anything Tommy”. “Promise me that even after this fighting is done, we will stay together and that we will always find each other. Even if we are separated by a world and a half?” I raise my hand, extending my pinky. “Pinky promise” I say, “Pinky promise”, he returns. Our fingers lock and my heart rests. “Now, come here”, he whispers, tilting my lips to his.

That night would never leave me. For how could one forget something as beautiful as that. We continued late into the night before finally falling asleep, bare in each others arms.

Just before the tidal wave of sleep took over us, one last thing was said.

“I think I’m in love with you Y/N.”

“I think I love you too Tommy.”

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jimlingss · 6 years ago

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Magic & Mysteries [2]

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 [Finale] | The Sequel Oneshot

➜ Words: 10.8k

➜ Genres: 95% Fluff, 5% Angst, Adventure, Witch!AU, Familiar!AU, Hybrid!AU

➜ Summary: Everything’s okay....EVERYTHING’S OKAY, YOU’RE FINE. Look, you just have one tiny problem. It’s an itty-bitty issue. Not that big of a deal. So what if you don’t have a familiar and you’re about to take on the ENTIRE family business. Oh, you have a name to uphold? Everyone’s depending on you? Great. That’s just fantastic. But it’s fine. You’ll get your familiar and you’ll run the best damn potion shop the world has ever seen. Everything will be fine, right?

Spoiler alert: everything was NOT fine.

You’re running for your life. Feet moving faster than your body can register, heaving breaths tearing from parted lips, you sprint with all your might. You’re a thunderbolt darting down the street, slipping through the crowds. Every so often, you glance over your shoulder like a fugitive or a criminal. But no. You’ve done nothing wrong. Yet, you’re being chased. “Stop it, Y/N!” A stern voice echos into your mind. “Get out of my head!” You scream, grabbing fistfuls of your hair, making strangers move out of the way and shoot you odd looks. There’s a long, exhausted sigh. “You’re going to trip and fall.” Like he says, you tumble, nearly falling flat on your face when your shoe hits a rock. But you catch yourself, hurling your body forward. Forward. Once you reach the shop, you throw the door open. It crashes against the wall. Mr. Lee is at the counter, in the middle of a conversation with a customer. Both magical folks regard you with wide eyes and you throw yourself at the counter. “Y/N?!” Hyperventilating and moving a strand of hair away from your face, you spit it out, “I-I’m so sorry! I know this is so rude, but I’m going to need my paycheck. Right now.” He blinks. “What’s the matter?” “I’m leaving town.” You look over your shoulder, harshly whispering as if he can hear you, “I need it right now.” “What?” The old man’s brows furrow, confused, though he slowly follows with your desperate request. “Is there something the matter? Something you need help with, dear?” “I’ll explain it later by pigeon. I’m so….so sorry!” Mr. Lee opens his cash register, counting the bills and slipping them in the white envelope. “Well, I only have half of your paycheck with me at the moment. I haven’t had time to withdraw from the bank ye—” “It’s good for now! Thank you!” You take it, stuffing it in your satchel. “I’ll see you soon!” There aren’t any proper goodbyes. You can’t bid farewell to all the people you met, talk to Taehyung one last time or even return the key to the innkeeper. Though you’re sure the latter doesn’t mind — she’ll be pissed when she realizes you haven’t come back, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Though the worse part is that you’ve left behind your most prized possessions. Your broomstick is still in the room. Dammit. You turn in the alleyway and he appears in front of you, an apparition materializing in the air, particles stitching together to form his body. The man is unimpressed, brow lifted as he skims you from head to toe with his eyes. “Where do you think you’re going?” You scream, backing up and running the other way. But where are you even supposed to go? No matter what corner you turn, he’ll materialize. He shouldn’t be able to. His magical abilities shouldn’t be so extensive. But he’s not just a mere familiar. He’s a wizard. Jimin manifests himself in front of a crowd, arms crossed and sighing. “You can keep running, but you’re exhausting yourself, y’know.” “Go away!” you shout and finally, it’s enough to catch people’s attention. You run in the opposite direction, not wasting a moment. “Y/N!” Before he can catch you, he’s stopped by several concerned bystanders. “Are you bothering her?” “No!” He exhales, dragging a hand over his face. “I’m her familiar!” Bated breath held in your throat, you collect yourself. You’ve found a hiding spot. A bush. A decorative bush on the side of the road, meant to make the town look pretty. The fern leaves are high, covering the top of your head and finally with a moment to breathe, you calculate what you can do. You could catch a ferry out of this place. There’s a possibility you could sneak past him and onto the pier, but then there’s a chance he can transport himself on the boat. There would be no escape then. Considering you’re the worst swimmer in the family, if you jumped ship, you’d drown and die. You could go to the police station for protection, but at the end of the day, he’s done nothing wrong. He hasn’t broken any law and you highly doubt any officer would believe you even if you told them what was going on. But if there was one thing that you were good at… You could run back to the inn, grab your broomstick and book it out of here. He would never be able to catch up if you’re constantly up in the air. You’re also confident about your flying skills. But you don’t know if you can make it back to your room in the first place. “Y/N?” Jimin brushes past you. He’s clothed, wearing your robes that are much too short on him and all too tight everywhere. He looks ridiculous, especially with your messenger cap, hiding the ears on his head. But with one glance at him, you hunch down more into the bushes. A shadow looms over your figure. “Mommy….why is there a witch in the bushes?” You cringe, trying to shoo the kid away in whispers, “go away, go away!” But the five-year old girl is much too curious. She looks down at you, cheeks rosy and eyes rounded. “What are you doing?” Luckily, her mom takes her hand and drags her off. “Rose, what did I tell you about talking to weirdos?” Maybe you can just transport yourself elsewhere. You’re not good at this kind of magic, but it wouldn’t try to hurt. You inhale, shutting your eyes tight, squeezing your hands into tight fists. You murmur the memorized incantation over and over again. Please, please, please. You envision a tropical beach, painting a beautiful picture of somewhere far, far away from here. Oceans crashing against the shore, the sea salt mist kissing upon your warmed cheeks. Seagulls swooping above you. Laughter and giggles of children. Humans around you, basking in the sunlight. You print the picture onto the forefront of your mind. You imagine a honeymoon destination, a vacation spot. And you can feel your body beginning to slip. Like you’re falling into a dream, your mind moves, fingertips to your toes tingling. Almost there…. But then a shadow looms over your figure. And it’s not the girl. “There you are!” Your collar is grabbed, entire body picked up. Your concentration is broken, body unable to materialize where you want it to go. “No! No!” He drags you. “Let me explain myself, stupid girl!” “Get away from me!” “Y/N-! Ow!” His grip loosens when you stomp on his toes. Chaos ensues. You slip away. Jimin shouts your name, running after you. But you don’t stop, destination already in mind. The inn’s door smashes open and you run past the counter, up the stairs. The innkeeper grimaces. “No running allowed!” You ignore her. Luckily enough, the room is still as you left it, unlocked. You shut it once you’re inside, broomstick in the corner. Grabbing it, you open the window, positioning the broom in between your legs and you’re already halfway out, leg hanging out the window— “Y/N!” The door slams open. “Bindora!” He shouts the spell. Instantaneously, you are paralyzed. It’s as if your limbs have been bound together with invisible rope and you scream, falling over, back into the room. The broomstick clatters to the floor. The man is gasping, pushing away his blonde strands from his sweaty face. He shuts the door and then steps over your body, falling onto the mattress. He catches his breath and sits up, looking down at you. “Are you done?” You roll over to face him. “W-what do you want from me?” “At least let me explain,” Jimin sighs and slumps to the ground, sitting on the floor with you. His arm rests on his propped up knee, lips pressed in a tight line. You’re still bounded, unable to move. It’s pathetic and you begin to squirm, discreetly wiggling around. “Do you think I’m blind?” He lifts his gaze, scoffing with a playful glint in his eyes. “Stop trying to roll away from me.” You roll again to face him. “What is there to explain?” He remains straightforward and blunt. “Aren’t you curious about how I became a dog?” You decide to go the same route too. “No. Frankly, I’m not. I want to leave.” “What don’t you understand? You can’t run from me!” He sighs in frustration. “I literally can smell you from a mile away! I’m still part dog!” Jimin throws off his hat and true to his words, there are black pointed ears on the top of his head. You stare at them for an extended moment before your pupils flicker down to meet his half-lidded eyes. “Okay, I’ll admit I’m a bit curious.” The corner of his mouth tugs. It makes you unsettled at how handsome he is, like the perfect exterior is a trap for the trouble-making interior. “I was turned into a dog about a year ago. Some witches hexed me or voodooed me or some shit. I just woke up one morning and I was a dog.” “Why would they do something like that?” You feel like a worm, struggling pathetically on the floor until you manage to sit yourself up, leaning against the dirty wall. “I...I may or may not have had relations with a few witches…” He pauses, running a hand through his hair, between his ears, slicking it back. “At the same time.” “Oh.” “Yeah. Oh.” He chuckles lifelessly. “They must’ve found out, got pissed, and turned me into this.” It makes sense. If he’s as flirtatious as he says he is and he had multiple affairs then it’s kind of ironic that they turned him into what he was: a dog. Even if it’s outlandish, you believe him. Some witches weren’t to be messed with and their rage was to be feared — your cousins proved that sentiment. “That…..really sucks.” “Yup. I ended up in a hundred of places — wandering from town to town, a circus, a pound, a pet shop….until I was put into a familiar adoption center.” You connect the pieces. “Where I found you.” Jimin nods. “I overheard that you were supposed to run a potion shop and your grandma once turned a wizard from a bird back to his human form. I thought you could cure me.” You grimace. “That was my grandma. Not me.” He scoffs. “Obviously.” It hurts to be insulted and tears are brought to your eyes, but you force them away, pouting at him instead. “Okay. I get it and that sounds horrible, but can you let me go now?” You struggle against your invisible restraints, still feeling like you’ve been rolled up in a blanket. Jimin quirks his head to the side. “Do you really think I don’t know you, Y/N? We’ve spent every single day together for the past three months. The moment I let you free, you’re going to run for it. Again.” You huff out, annoyed that he’s right. You might or might not have a habit of running away when there’s trouble on the horizon. It’s not your fault you’re a class A coward — it’s just who you are. “Then what do you want from me?” “I want you to get rid of this.” He points to his ears. He’s still a half-dog, half-human. You wonder if he has a tail. “Fix me.” You fight against your bindings, glaring at the wizard. “Why should I?” The bastard smirks slyly, coming to his feet. Jimin’s arm extends and he grabs the collar of your dress, pulling you up. You freeze up when he leans in close, hot breath skimming against your lips as he lowly whispers, “because I’m still your familiar.” // You’re sulking. How could you not? You’ve been lied to. Your cute puppy is gone. And now the tables have turned — you’re the one following after him like you’re a lovesick dog. You’re trailing behind his shadow, noticing his tall height and how broad his back side is. It’s strange. You can barely wrap your mind around it and you’re overwhelmed. At the bank, Jimin merely says his name and reads out his memorized identification number. Apparently, he’s loaded and two sacks of coins are immediately withdrawn from his account. The bastard smirks at you as he throws and catches the sack in one hand. “Tell me what you need to buy and I’ll pay for it. You don’t need to buy anymore hand-me-downs or worry about finances.” “.......thanks.” Your pouty glare only earns a stupid grin from him. The two of you go on a shopping spree, or rather, Jimin drags you everywhere on his journey. He searches for proper clothes, purchasing cloaks and pajamas, robes and sweaters. He also finds himself a wand, spending a full hour in the store searching for the right one, excruciatingly picky. By afternoon, you’ve sighed hundreds of times. But as you’re standing by a book stand waiting for him, your eyes stray off. They fall onto a brightly covered guide. Dog Training 101 for Dummies. Your pupils immediately flicker upwards to the vendor. “How much is this?” “Three gold coins.” “I’ll take it.” You smile, exchanging the few coins you have for the book and stuffing it in your satchel. “Y/N!” Right on time, Jimin turns around with a blazing smile. At the market booth, he holds up two sweaters for you to see. “Which one do you like better? Blue or red?” You pause, approaching slowly. “Blue.” “I’ll take both,” he says to the lady who wraps it up. Your eyes are lifeless, expression blank. “If you already decided, then why do you bother asking me.” “Because I care about your opinion.” Jimin takes the bag, handing over the right amount of coins and then he passes it to you without a second thought. You feel like a maid, carrying tens of his bags on each of your arms, more or less a servant in his merciless rule. The two of you walk off as you struggle with the weight of his purchases, teetering from side to side. “Where did you get all this money?” The man smirks. “You’re not the only famous one.” There’s an extended silence. Then, Jimin twists on his heel, and his hand lifts. He flicks your forehead, making you whine. “Ow! What was that for?” “I know what you’re thinking,” he deadpans. “Stop reading my mind!” “I’m not, idiot.” The corner of his mouth slyly tugs again. “I can see it on your face. You’re an open book. And no, I’m not famous for sleeping with witches and women or being a casanova; although, I have created a name for myself in that arena.” You can’t even bring your hand up to rub at the spot he flicked. “Then what are you famous for?” “I’m a spell-specialized wizard,” he simply comments and then stops in his tracks, pointing to the left where they’re selling traveling sets of potions at a open stand. “Pick one.” They remind you of first-aid kits. There are basic and advanced sets, each of them carrying different kinds of materials and tools to brew necessary potions on the go. As you sweep your vision across the table, you begin to break a sweat. You swallow hard, palms clammy, skin cold. To cure Jimin of his half-dog state, you need to make a potion. Even if you didn’t want to and decided to run again, the both of you are connected via a familiar and witch bond, making you practically married to each other. And you’re also sure he could track you down with that damn nose of his or with his powers. Either way, you’ve been cornered with zero escape. Jimin’s arm comes to drape over your shoulder, chin propping on it as he leans down, breaking you out of your trance. You jolt, not used to being touched and you tense up. He can probably feel it, but he isn’t deterred. After all, you’ve held him much more intimately before. But you don’t dwell on those thoughts, instead coming to side-glare him. “If you’re a spell-specialized wizard, can’t you fix yourself?” “If I could, I wouldn’t be asking you,” he mutters. “I traveled with you for the past three months and went on my own for a year — there’s nothing on the market that I can buy that will fix me. A customized, antidote potion is the only thing that can cure me.” A bumbling man behind the stand approaches. “How can I help you?” You point to the slim, white box. “I’ll...take the basic kit.” Jimin stands straight, his arm still around your shoulders as he motions to the black kit instead, overriding your decision. “We’ll take the advanced set.” You sigh. Again. Carrying all his bags, Jimin eventually finishes his shopping spree at the markets and boutiques. The pair of you stop for a nice lunch at a cafe. He spends his money lavishly and without much thought, not caring if something is expensive or not. But as luxurious as it is, you are tense the entire time, unable to enjoy yourself. He’s too familiar and comfortable with you while you aren’t. Jimin has his arm hooked around your shoulder, unabashed with his public displays of affection, gaining the envious glances from strangers and sweet smiles of older married couples. It makes you unsettled. “Y’know…” His breath is on your ear, sending a sea of goosebumps all over your arms. “You don’t have to be so afraid of me.” “I’m not.” “You’re stiff. And you can’t even look at me properly.” He sounds almost a bit sad. You steal a glance at him, freezing when you realize his brown rounded eyes have been gazing deeply into your own irises, and you quickly look away. “I’m just not used to it.” “That’s understandable,” he hums lowly, “but you do know I’m still the same as your precious Chimmy, right? Y’know, the one you hugged and slept with, the one you always kiss, the one you love so damn much….” Embarrassment eats at you. Your face burns up at the numerous memories. You’ve changed in front of him, hugged him and pushed him to your chest, slept beside him, kissed him, declared your love for him. God. You want the ground to swallow you whole, but you don’t know what kind of magic you’d use and knowing your abilities, you’d mess up and then you’d be the one to swallow up the ground. “That’s…..different.” “Is it?” “You were a dog then and now…” His brow quirks, having too much fun teasing you to death. “Now I’m a man?” You exhale, throwing his arm off of you. “You lied to me.” “I didn’t. It’s not like I could communicate to you that I wasn’t a damn dog and a wizard instead. If I could, I would’ve. Trust me.” A sigh releases between your parted lips and you stomp away, putting more distance between both your bodies as he laughs. From the outside, it looks like a lover’s spat and it doesn’t help that he yells out after you— “Didn’t you tell me you love me?!” You fully understand why those witches hexed him. // The both of you enter with the innkeeper giving you the stink eye. If she knows Jimin is staying for good, she might bring up your rates. But for now, by the look on her face, you know she thinks he’s just a guest you invited back or...someone you hired for a night of pleasure. The latter assumption horrifies you, so you brush it away. Entering the room, you groan, putting down all the heavy bags. Jimin walks over, falling on the mattress while you take out the portable potion set. There’s an array of ingredients inside the case, a small stone cauldron as well, enough materials for one dosage of whatever you want to make. You stare at the materials in front of you. “Think you can whip something up?” Jimin lays on his side, propping himself up by an arm, head rested in his hand. “Will you leave me alone if I do?” “Yup. This potion is your ticket to freedom.” His words make you feel somber somehow, but you shrug them off, focusing. You examine the ingredients and the tiny beaker they provide. A good place to start is with a basic healing potion. Technically, you’ve already reversed the curse halfway with that other potion. Maybe you could modify it and possibly find a cure. But as you pick up the glass test tube, your hand suddenly begins to tremble. You put it down before it slips and shatters on the ground. An inhale is taken, then an exhale. You swallow hard, pushing down the thick lump in your throat. But it doesn’t help, and the world is beginning to swirl in your vision. You’re dizzy, sick to your stomach, nauseous. You can’t. “Are you going to start?” His brows are lifted as he watches. “What’s taking so long?’ “You don’t understand.” You’re frustrated, not knowing why he’s making you do this. It’s too much pressure. “It’s not so simple. I can’t just cook something up! There’s no recipe for this sort of thing.” “What about your grandma’s?” “She didn’t write anything down! And it’s not like I can go to the graveyard and ask her now!” “Just do what you did last time then!” Jimin is equally frustrated, trying to use his rationale to understand your hysteria. “But make it stronger. You already cured me halfway.” “That’s not how it works. It’s not the same! You obviously don’t know anything about potions.” “You just don’t want to do this, do you?” He sits up, voice threatening. “Want me to stick around longer?” “No! But I just can’t! Stop it.” The pressure and panic has you nearly bursting into tears. “Y/N.” You have a phobia of potions. “I think I’m going to be sick.” “Is this because of what happened?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” The ‘incident’ swirls at the forefront of your mind. The memory you had been trying to suppress for so long comes as fresh as if it occurred yesterday. Jimin is exasperated. “Just get over.” There it is — your limit. You’ve been shoved to the brink. You’re tired of being pushed around by him. “Fuck off!” you scream at the top of your lungs. “Go away!” But Jimin stays in the same spot, wide-eyed, ears perking. You burst into tears, sobbing into your arms, weeping and wailing pathetically on the floor. He is uncomfortable, though he never moves, staring at you and letting you cry your soul out. // After you bawl your eyes out and you’re left in a hiccuping state, he asks if you’re okay. You nod and hold yourself up in the washroom, cleaning yourself up and waiting for your swollen eyes to go down. When you’ve calmed down and regained your sanity, you open the door and he’s...gone. Jimin is nowhere to be found in the tiny bedroom, not in his human form or as a dog. Maybe he’s had enough. Maybe you’ve annoyed him to no end and he’s abandoned you. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not, but your answer comes when you sniffle, nearly crying again— The door opens. “Oh, hey.” The man has a soft smile, eyes kind, and he lifts up a bag in his hands. “I thought we would eat-in tonight, so I bought food.” You nod in silence and the pair of you settle on the floor again, pulling out the take-out of noodles and eating to your heart's content. You fill your cheeks, tummy feeling warm, and you bask in the peacefulness. But when you look up, you find Jimin gazing at you. He never mentions the incident, potions, or your mental breakdown again. “I’m sorry,” you mutter and Jimin glances at you again. “I didn't mean to swear at you. I love—” You catch yourself, tripping over your own tongue. “You love me,” Jimin finishes with a timid smile. “It’s okay, you can say it. You’ve said it to me many times before.” His head downcasts, concentrating on swirling his fork in his cream pasta. “It’s nice to hear it, you know. I’m used to people swearing at me and telling me they hate my guts.” You scoff before it morphs into a laugh. “Why did you go out with so many witches at once? You can’t really blame them for doing what they did.” “Hey, for the record, just because I see someone once or twice….or three times does not mean we’re an item. It’s their problem for jumping to so many conclusions. I don’t date. I don’t do romance. They should know that. Instead, they assume I’m a cheating, lying douchebag when I go see someone that’s not them.” Your lips smack together. “You’re…” “An asshole,” he finishes and shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the first time I heard that. But what can I say? It’s boring to be tied down to one person. Don’t you get tired being with someone constantly? Could you imagine being tied down? It sounds like a punishment. Shouldn’t we live having fun?” The food is suddenly made unappetizing and you play with it. “I...guess…” “I know our lifestyles don’t match. So all the more reason to quickly make that antidote so we can separate, right?” There’s a pause. “I’m sorry for being an ass when you’re already helping me. And I know why you might be traumatized, so asking you to get over it doesn’t really help. So by all means, take as much time as you need. I can wait patiently.” You nod. “Thanks.” The corners of his mouth tilt, eyes slightly crinkled. “I’m just surprised you’re not sick of me.” “Oh, trust me,” you mutter mid-chew, “I am.” “Then why were you looking for me?” He giggles, adorable laughter bubbling from his chest and unable to stop. As cold as Jimin can look with his sharp features and emotionless expression, when he laughs, his face seems to soften, eyes crinkling and nose wrinkling slightly. “You looked like you were going to cry when I wasn’t here.” “I-no!” “Uh, yes.” The tinkling sound of his laughter fills the room again, triangular ears quirking, and you relish in the company you didn’t know you missed. “You’re cute, you know.” You scoff lightly. Those buttered words won’t work on you. // Night falls faster than anticipated. You brush your teeth, disgusted when he uses your own toothbrush afterwards. But when he takes a much needed shower, finally cleaning himself up and you get the chance to take the book out from your satchel. You rip off the cover, making the front blank so he won’t catch you, and you begin the first chapter on negative and positive reinforcement. You make it away to the entire chapter of the guide before he comes out and you stash the book away. “What’s our sleeping arrangement?” He towels off the light blonde strands of his hair, relishing in the scent of your soap he stole, and he brushes his strands with your hairbrush. Jimin, dressed clad in his cotton pajamas, scoffs at your question. “What do you mean?” “Well…..the bed’s small.” You swallow hard. “I can remove the first sheet and set something up on the floor for you if you want….” “Yeah, right.” He drops the towel on the ground and flops onto the mattress, diving front first and inhaling the covers. It smells like you and he nestles in the blankets, relishing in your scent. He rolls over. “We can share.” “W-what?” “There’s plenty of room. Come on.” He pats the spot beside him and slyly winks. “I don’t bite….at least, I’ll make sure it feels good.” Your face heats like a furnace and you approach in hesitation, gawking at the tiny space left on the bed. “Can’t you turn back into a dog?” Jimin laughs in your face. “You’re going to have to kill me to make me go back into my dog form. I haven’t slept as a human in over a year.” He stretches out his limbs, moaning as he takes out all the aches and kinks in his bones, more like a cat than a dog. “Then I-I’ll just sleep on the floor.” “Tch.” He clicks his tongue in annoyance. “You don’t listen, do you?” Jimin takes your arm and pulls you forward, grinning at your squeal. You fall onto the bed, head buried in his chest. He snaps his fingers and immediately the light above you dies off, allowing the golden moonlight to pierce through the window. He wraps his legs around yours, arms over your shoulder and waist, cuddling you in a secure hug. He nuzzles happily into your hair and you can’t pull away, bound by his iron grip and strong limbs. “Jimin…” You pout, wiggling around. “Why can’t you just rent another room?” “Don’t wanna,” he answers childishly, all too affectionate. It’s times like these that you’re reminded Jimin is definitely Chimmy — stubborn, pretentious, but also clingy when he feels particularly needy. You remember all those nights when he curled up in your lap and made you pet him incessantly, growling if you stopped. “I like it like this. Plus, you’re cold at night, aren’t you? I can finally keep you warm.” You’re warm alright. Your face is aflame. “They give you the shittiest blanket here,” he mumbles against your hair. “We should file a formal complaint.” You sigh. “Can you at least let me go a bit? I can’t breathe.” “Do you think I’m an idiot?” His voice suddenly drops an octave, rumbling from his chest, threatening. “You’re going to try to run in the middle of the night.” Suddenly, you’re wide awake. Your eyes open. How did he know? It’s like he’s casted a spell and tapped into your mind again, except he hasn’t. “That’s how we ran from your home, didn’t we?” You shift around uncomfortably before melting into his embrace. If you weren’t lying to yourself, then you’d even say you were comfortable in his arms. It was warm and you didn’t have to curl up to conserve heat. You even feel...safe. “I’m not going to run.” “Liar.” Jimin smiles gently and you can feel it on your skin. “But you couldn’t even if you tried. I won’t let you.” You’re his walking antidote, the key to solving his issue. He won’t let you escape so easily when you’re the solution to his predicament. He’s not done with you yet. Jimin’s fingertips come down and the pad of his finger presses against the sensitive spot between your shoulder and neck. “And I know your scent well.” Despite him being in his human form, Jimin still retains dog-like qualities, like his strong sense of smell. Your suspicions are confirmed when he says, “I can smell you from miles away.” Without you knowing, Jimin rubs his nose into your hair, making you smell like him, fulfilling an urge he has deep within. You squirm, feeling ticklish from his tender touches. “You’re annoying.” “So are you.” He smiles. Eventually, soft breaths emit from his parted lips, exhausted from the entire day. You crane your neck, trying to look up and see if he’s fallen asleep. But then Jimin tightens his grip on you, hugging you like you’re his comfort toy, and he sleepily murmurs, “don’t go.” Maybe he’s dreaming, delirious between the boundary of consciousness and slumber, but you hear every word of his loud and clear. “We’re a team, aren’t we?” Your frown eases. That’s right. You and him. It doesn’t matter if he’s a dog or a wizard. It certainly doesn’t change the fact that you’ve spent the last three months together and that you love him dearly. You’ve made an oath to protect him as his witch. … .. In the middle of the night, Jimin’s grip on you loosens. He rolls over and you’re released from his binding arms and iron grip. But your feet never touch the ground. You don’t grab your satchel, slipping from the room and taking flight with your broomstick far away where he would only be able to take in the lingering scent of your perfume, never strong enough to know where you are. You don’t go. Instead, your arm extends and you touch his soft ears. They’re fluffy, velvet to the touch. As you rub, feeling the outline of the triangular shape, he leans into your hand. Jimin doesn’t wake up, unconsciously coming closer and relishing in your affections. You choose to stay. // It becomes less and less hard to admit that his company is pleasant and enjoyable. You’re not talking to yourself anymore. Your companion has merely transformed into a large being that you can interact with on a higher level, hold conversations, banter back and forth. It’s nice. But sometimes, you wish he would just turn back into a dog. All Jimin does is complain, complain, and complain. If he’s not complaining, then he’s whining and annoying you to death. He’s dragging down your own morale, less of a wizard or a pet, more like a black raining cloud constantly over your head. “Why do we have to deliver these dumb packages?” he knocks his head back, moaning tiredly to the sky. “I already told you I have more than enough money to support the both of us.” “And what happens when you’re gone?” You’re struggling with the heavy weight of the package and he never once reaches out to help. “Where will I get my money then? I have to be responsible and save up.” “I’ll give you a handsome payment if you can cure me,” he says curtly with a lifted brow. “Did you really think you would fix me for free? I’m not that much of a cheapskate.” “Uh-huh.” His hands are in his trouser pockets, dark robes adorned on his body, luxurious from head to toe. He’s always wearing a hat on his head, hiding his unusual ears from the rest of the world. “You should use a levitation spell so you don’t have to carry that.” “No.” You sigh. “I’m just going to do it how I’ve always been doing it.” Or more like you have zero confidence in spell-casting and you don’t want him to show off with his own abilities. It already irritates you enough that he’s arrogantly strolling around like he owns the entire place. “I always thought this job is stupid. Your plant was even more stupid,” he mutters and you purse your lips, anger being poked at with the reminder of your poor tickly-wickly plant. “Can I just go sit somewhere and we can meet up later?”

“No. You’re going to accompany me,” you respond in a firm voice. “It’s what a familiar should do.” Jimin groans and rolls his eyes to the back of his skull. “But I’m not a dog!” You ignore him, entering the greenhouse to deliver the package in your arms. Greeting the familiar lady, she asks about the tickly-wickly and you disheartenedly brush off by saying that plants weren’t for you. Discreetly, she asks if Jimin is your boyfriend and you tell her no, that you’re just babysitting. It confuses her, but it isn’t far from the truth either. “Why are you walking so slow?” You turn around, feeling even more tired with having to drag him everywhere and convince him it's worthwhile. Jimin is kicking the rocks, obviously sulking with his bottom lips slightly jutted out, reminiscent of a puppy not wanting to go to the vet. “I don’t want to keep going. This is fucking dumb. I have better things to do.” You grit your teeth, but take a deep breath to compose yourself. This morning, you knocked out another chapter from the training guide. It’s time to put the things you’ve learnt into action. This time, you stand your ground, unyielding, and you open up your palm. “Jimin. Hand.” “What?” “Jimin,” you repeat. “Hand.” He approaches and with a sly smirk, pretends to spit in your palm. The bastard grins, but you’re unimpressed with his mischievous antics. “Bad. That’s bad. Give me your hand.” He glares. You glare. It’s a fight for dominance. Your stares and locked eyes nearly spark with electricity, both your magic abilities releasing into the air and in between each other. It’s a full ten seconds with held breaths and thundering heartbeats before Jimin reluctantly lifts his arm, putting his hand in yours. You also know he’s following your instructions from curiosity and not obedience. But it’s still a win for you. Immediately, a smile spreads into your features and you tilt your head to the side, actively expressing your happiness with his behaviour. “Good. I don’t want you to fall behind, m'kay?” You hold his hand that fits perfectly in yours, bringing him along. His skin is softer than expected and you relish in his warmth. Jimin is pouty, but much quieter than before. “It's not like I would get lost…..” For the next little while, you train him. You finish reading the entire book, addicted to the words and pages, soaking up all the information. Though it’s much more difficult to implement the techniques in real life than to simply read about it. At first, Jimin fully revolts. He’s a stubborn bastard who refuses to listen to anyone, but you make sure to keep calm and he seems to feed on your praise and compliments. Slowly, but surely, he becomes obedient, even if he still whines and complains occasionally. “Sit. Sit here and don’t move, okay?” “Where are you going?” He looks down at you with big eyes, blinking a few times. You swallow hard, maintaining a stern expression. “Just sit and stay.” Unknowingly, Jimin follows your will, taking a seat on the wooden bench. He’s confused, though it’s a good start to teaching him a new command. “You’re not leaving, right?” “No. Just stay.” You begin to back away, carefully and cautiously. “Good, good.” When the time is right, you turn around to walk into the grocery store. You stride down the aisle, quickly finding what you’re looking for. In the next minute, you’re slapping a yellow pack onto the counter, making your purchase. To your pleasant surprise, Jimin is still on the bench when you walk out. His hands are in his lap, looking around curiously at the butterflies and birds, as well as other magic folks that pass by. He’s cute….and you realize, still very much like a dog, despite being in a human form. But if he knew you were training him, he would probably spit and piss on you. There’s no doubt about it. “You’re back!” Jimin grins when you get closer, face lighting up before he catches himself and tries to play it off as nothing. “I was getting bored, that’s all.” “Thank you for staying.” You make sure to praise him, smiling widely and in approval. “I had to go to the store to buy some stuff.” “What?” He’s interested and you catch his hat shifting slightly, ears perking beneath. “Just some candy I used to have as a kid.” The plastic package rustles in your hand and you open it. “I was craving it. Want some?” “Sure.” The wrapping is clear, ends twisted off and making it look like traditional candy. You can see the soft pink hue of the jelly. Your mouth waters, remembering the gummy texture and sweet flavour, but it’s not for you to eat — you bought it for a reason. You hand it to him and he pops it into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully. His brows lift and he hums. “It’s good!” “I know.” You grin, extending your palm forward. “Hand.” “Where are we going now?” Jimin puts his hand in yours without thinking twice and you give him another candy. He smiles and throws it into his mouth. “You’ll see.” You’re discreet enough that he doesn’t really catch on. With Jimin listening to you, life becomes a lot easier. His presence is a lot more bearable and he’s not wildly pulling you along or making you surrender into his crazy antics. Mr. Lee becomes well acquainted with Jimin as well. He asks where your familiar is, the one you adore so much, and you merely say he’s running an errand. But as a whole, things seem to be running smoothly… Except, another wrench is thrown in your life when Mr. Lee gives you your last paycheck. “Did….did I do a bad job, sir? Is there a reason why—” “Oh, no, no.” He waves you off, absurd at the idea. “You are one of the best messengers I’ve ever had. It’s just that I’m going on vacation with my wife. We decided on that place I was talking about last week. It was spontaneous, but I finally bought the tickets yesterday evening.” A sigh of relief leaves your lungs. “I thought you were firing me.” “No, no. I would never. I just thought it was time to treat myself and my wife. As they say, happy wife, happy life.” The old man looks at Jimin with twinkling eyes. “Right?” “Uh….sure..” he responds with an awkward smile; the two of you are unsure of what he’s implying. “I’m sorry I didn’t get to tell you sooner.” “It’s quite alright.” You ease him with a smile. “I hope you have lots of fun.” “I will.” He nods. “My wife’s so excited that she’s already packed. We’ll probably be back in a month. We’re thinking of visiting family on the way home since we’ll be nearby. Will you be okay?” “Don’t worry about me.” You rock from your heel to your toes. “I always do well no matter what happens.” “That’s the spirit!” Except it’s a complete lie. You can already feel Jimin’s piercing gaze on your backside. The pressure on your shoulders. The strain in the air. It makes it hard to breathe and you’re tempted to run off, but he would be able to catch you without blinking. To Jimin, you are a prey and he is the predator. Now that you’re jobless, there’s truly nothing for you to do. There are no more excuses. Of course, he wouldn’t care even if you were fully employed. Understandably, to Jimin, his predicament is the most urgent matter. “Y/N….Y/N….” He calls you insistently and you halt, spinning around. “What is it?” He continues walking and you match his slow pace. “I know I told you to take your time….” he begins, hesitant, but patience run thin. “And?” “And at this rate, I think it’s going to take years.” Jimin decides to lay it on straight, blunt in his words, and you look at each other. “You love running away from your issues and problems.” “I do not.” He ignores your weak defense. “When are you planning to make an antidote?” You don’t answer. “Do you even have any plans? If...if it’s too difficult, why don’t we enlist more help? You made a potion before with that boy a few weeks ago. But do you even know where to begin?” You continue walking, looking straight ahead. Jimin gets ticked off at your lack of responses and raises his voice, quickening his walking pace. “It’s not like your first experiment will work on me. This will take time, so why don’t we start now? How long do you plan on waiting? How long do you want me to be like this?” “I don’t know,” you spit out in annoyance before commanding him, “be quiet.” Jimin scoffs, being blatantly disobedient. “No. I’m asking you something and you’re not answering me. How long do you want this to go on?” “I don’t know!” you repeat in frustration. His expectations are burdensome and you hate that he’s relying on you. Deep down you have zero faith that you can restore him to his fully human state and you feel suffocated by his confidence in you. “Will you please stop pressuring me?!” “I wouldn’t have to if you weren’t so wishy-washy and indecisive! Do you really think you can accomplish anything by sitting around? Do you think you can be anyone great if you keep procrastinating?! You’ve done nothing! You’ve been going from place to place trying to search for what magic suits you when news flash, Y/N, you’re a potions-specialized witch whether you like it or not!” “I’m helping you out of the goodness of my own heart, okay? I don’t appreciate this tone!” You stomp your foot indignantly. “Stop demanding things from me!” Jimin scoffs, arms crossed and completely unsympathetic to you. “What a joke. You’re not helping me out of the ‘goodness of your heart’. You have to help me — I’m your familiar.” “You’re right.” The two of you finally stop in your tracks, in the middle of the street bickering to one another. “You’re my familiar, so you have to obey me.” His eyes narrow. “I’m not your servant.” “Turn back into a dog,” you yell. “I liked you better that way!” “You can’t make me.” The man’s teeth grits down, jaw clenching. “I can. I am your witch and I demand you turn back into your dog state.” The words are spoken into the world. Within three seconds, there’s a yellow poof. A cloud has appeared, mist thick and causing you to cough. You wave it away, watching the shadow shifting into a smaller frame. When the smoke dissipates, you look down and it’s the dog that you know and love. He’s cute and adorable, darker ears with its hue fading off into the golden and fluffy coat, except now you know who he truly is inside. He barks and howls, wailing a million gripes and whining with a high-pitched voice. You glare into his rounded eyes. “I absolutely will never. ever. do potions again, do you understand me?” You don’t want to die. You don’t want him to die either. Jimin continues to whine and complain, howling and shrieking at the top of his lungs like there’s a full moon up in the sky. It occurs to you that he can’t turn back into a human if you’ve commanded him to stay like this — if he could, he’d probably slap you and bring you back to your senses. But you’re tired from all this arguing, exhausted from his disobedience and chaoticness. Maybe you should’ve run when you had the chance… “You should go find someone else,” you tell him in a softer and gentler voice, squatting down to lock your eyes with his. You’ve long given up on yourself. He should too. “Someone who can actually help you. Not me. Don’t put so much of your trust in me. I don’t deserve it. I can’t help you. You and I both know how bad I am at magic. I’m terrible at magic.” He howls and barks again, even yelping this time. But you can’t understand him. “I’m sorry.” You rise to your feet, turning around and walking away. Jimin must’ve changed tactics because instead of those horrific howls like he’s screaming at you, now he’s pitifully whimpering. But you shut your eyes, trying your best to ignore it all. One day you’ll see him again — you’ll run into each other and he’ll be all healed up and maybe you could even be good friends. For now, you leave him behind. But then you begin to hear paws padding on the ground, clumsy steps taken, stubby legs struggling to keep up with your hasty strides. Jimin barks, catching up to your side. “Go away.” He growls, barks, whimpers, as if pleading for you to stop. Jimin goes as far as biting at your shoe, allowing himself to be dragged three steps before you stop and withdraw harshly. He yelps despite you not causing injury to him, but it still sends guilt straight through your chest. “I-I told you to go away!” It doesn’t matter that he’s your familiar and that you’re bonded together. He still has the ability to leave. As painful as this is, it just has to be done. No matter how much it hurts you, it’s better to be alone. That way, you only disappoint yourself in the end. “Ummm….excuse me, Miss.” There’s a tap on your shoulder and you shift. “Yes?” “Is that your puppy?” The stranger points across the dirt street and there he is — sitting obediently, staring at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. His brown irises glimmering, stars practically inside his orbs, and he looks like he’s about to cry. Jimin has his tail and ears down, having been following you quietly for an hour. “I think he’s waiting for you.” “H-he’s not mine.” “Really?” The female frowns and glances at the dog. “Poor puppy. Maybe I should bring him to a shelter.” “N-no…..I...I can.” You walk away again and the girl doesn’t say anything as Jimin follows you. But this time, you pace slower, glancing over your shoulder. Jimin has his head downcasted, sad and apologetic. It makes your chest ache. A thousand flashbacks begin playing in your mind of all your adventures together, your wild journey thus far. It was a bad idea to turn him back into a dog. You’re weak for all animals. “Mommy, mommy, look!” A small boy, no more than four-years old lets go of his parent’s hand. “It’s a doggy!” “Yes, it is.” He looks up at his mom. “Can I pet it?” “You should ask the owner first, sweetheart. We don’t know whose dog that is.” The child turns his head towards you, the closest person to the small animal. “Is this your doggy?” “Ummm…..ummmm….” You’re not sure how to answer, but the kid is waiting expectantly and you end up smiling meekly. “You can pet him.” The mother nods thankfully at you and keeps an eye on him while continuing her conversation with her friend. The boy hops off the sidewalk, going towards him and patting him on the head with vigor, but not hard enough to hurt. Jimin allows himself to be pet, though his ears and tail are still down. His eyes are flickered up to you as if to get your approval. “What’s his name?” “Chi-...Jimin….his name is Jimin.” “Jimin!” The boy giggles and then moves onto lightly scratching the top of his head. “Is he your familiar or a normal dog? My mommy has a cat at home, but it’s her familiar. He’s super smart!” “Jimin….is a normal dog.” You smirk, lowering yourself down like the kid. “He’s an annoying mutt. Do you want him?” He blinks and pouts. “I don’t think mommy will let me.” “Yeah.” You sigh, elbow propped on your knee and chin rested in your palm. “He’s a handful too. I don’t think anyone can handle him.” “He’s a good boy!” The four-year old grins and continues to pat Jimin. You hum, a slight smile slipping on your lips before you sigh wistfully. It seems as though you’ve finally found someone more stubborn and unyielding than you are. He’s defeated you yet again. You allow Jimin to walk alongside you silently. He doesn’t make a sound either. The innkeeper glares when you enter and brush past, but you’re not affected anymore. It’s like that’s her own way of greeting you. You enter the room and shut the door. “Change back.” The world hears the command spoken and he transforms into his human form. You’re forced to look away when the light is blinding. He takes shape, growing taller and leaner, fur becoming skin, though his ears morph into a triangular shape, staying stuck to the top of his skull. The tips of your fingers are tingling. To a certain extent, witches can tell their familiars what to do and make requests, but the responsibility of that power makes you uncomfortable. It’s awfully burdensome. Jimin lolls his head to the side, wearing an unimpressed expression. His tongue rolls inside his cheek, half-lidded eyes staring into yours. He runs a hand through the blonde strands of his hair, pushing it away from his brows. “Were you really going to abandon me in that form?” “No…..” Your voice is small. “I’m sorry.” “I’m not leaving you,” he reiterates firmly. “And I’m not letting you leave either.” “Why?” Your question is left unanswered and maybe because he doesn’t know himself why he’s so adamant about this. It would certainly be simpler to leave you and seek help elsewhere. Though Jimin doesn’t exactly care for being logical at the moment. “Look, what you did back then wasn’t your fault.” Immediately, you know what he’s alluding to and your blood runs cold. You turn around like a petulant child, vision diverted elsewhere, arms crossed in defense. “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Well, too bad. I’m not letting you run away. This stupid ‘incident’ or at least that’s what you like to refer it to — it wasn’t your fault.” “Yes, it is!” you shout and as much as you hate arguing, Jimin keeps pushing you. “I almost killed us!” “But you didn’t!” He tries to reason, “You got me out there before the whole place burnt down.” “Barely!” You slump to the ground, wanting to curl up and hide away. “What kind of witch blows up their entire house?!” “It was just a failed experiment.” “It was a basic recipe I was following,” you correct with a groan, holding your head in your hands and tempted to cover up your ears and obnoxiously sing to drown him out. “But I couldn’t even do that. And….and the next day, I was supposed to do the grand opening of the store and pretend nothing happened?! I would’ve ruined my family’s name! God, my cousins were right. My entire family was right.” The night before the opening of the store, you burnt down your entire house to the ground in an experiment. You barely got out there alive with Jimin in your arms. Someone would’ve thought that a stranger had a vengeance and torched your house, not that you did it yourself on accident. When you close your eyes, you can still see the searing flames from that night, the green fumes leaving your chimney, the way your precious cottage exploded in front of you. Your house became a bonfire. And then you ran away in humiliation. You’re an idiot. Dumb. Bad at magic. “No, they’re not,” Jimin expresses in frustration, closing the proximity between your bodies. “You’re a brilliant witch.” “Stop saying that so you can get me to make you an antidote!” “I’m not just saying it for that! I mean it!” “Well, I can’t help you!” The decision is final. You’re not changing your mind. “No matter what you say — I can’t and I won’t.” There is silence and a muscle in his cheek twitches at how much of a brat you are. For good measure, you add on, “so you should go find another way instead of waiting for me since it’s never going to happen.” “Fine.” “Fine!” “But I won’t leave without getting our bond removed.” Jimin points to the ground, stubborn and as childish as you are. He’s annoyed to no end and is one minute away from strangling you. “I don’t want to be connected to you in any way.” Your bottom lip is trembling, but you stand your ground as well. “Fine by me! I would rather have no familiar than a familiar like you!” “Perfect then!” Not only are you a terrible witch who’s bad at magic, you’re a coward — a coward who lies and is too afraid of facing the truth. // The pair of you march up to city hall as if you’re about to lead a protest and overthrow the government. There’s conviction in your steps, strides firm, eyes set forward and fists clenched together. Behind you, Jimin follows at a distance. And in reality, you’re both less like leaders of the new world and more like an old couple tired of each other’s shit and filing for divorce. “Hi.” The lady behind the booth slowly lifts her head, but her eyes are still glued onto her computer screen. It seems to take an eternity before she slowly peels her eyeballs away from the damn monitor to lazily look up at you. There are purple bags under the witch’s eyes, undeniably tired. “How can I help you?” Your jaw is clenched and your jutted finger pokes at the granite counter. “I’d like to break ties with my familiar.” “Identification, please.” You dig into your pockets, luckily finding the rectangular card and you slide it over in the small hole between the counter and glass wall. The female witch looks on both sides of the card and types your number into the system. She clicks and then pauses and then clicks again. It takes a full minute of you standing there, awkwardly. The woman finally hums, pulling up Chimmy’s profile and the past paperwork filled out. “Where’s your familiar now?” “He….He’s behind me.” The witch rolls to the side with her swivel chair, looking over your body and tilting her head. A frown mars her blank expression. Jimin smiles and lifts his hand. “Hi.” She glances back at you, too exhausted to be outright shocked. “How is your familiar a human?” “I’m actually a wizard,” Jimin adds on, but no one particularly cares. You don’t know how to clarify this bizarre situation. If only she knew you were as baffled as she was. “It’s…….complicated.” “Al-...right….then….I’ll admit, this is my first.” She quirks her head to the side, not smiling or laughing when you reply with ‘me too’. The woman behind the booth types on her keyboard, clicking a few more times as if she was merely messaging her husband what’s for dinner. “It’s quite a feat. Bonds are difficult to create….” And even more difficult to break. You know the saying and it makes you all the more unsettled. The woman’s fingers continue to flurry over the keys and then she stops. You blink twice, waiting patiently before she turns her monitor towards you and Jimin. The both of you crowd next to each other, cheeks nearly squished together, eyes wide, staring. “I’m sorry, I can’t dissolve your relationship.” “What?” “Why not?” The administration witch exhales in tiredness and slumps forward. She clicks something and pulls up a line graph, showing you certain dips and rises with the back of her pen. It’s complicated, hundreds of numbers and lines filling the screen, intersecting each other and colour coded, reminding you of paperwork for filling out your taxes or graphs on the stock market. It makes your eyes and brain hurt. “As you can see, your relationship has never dipped below the line to break your bond. The lower the graph dips, the more successful the ritual of breaking your ties would be. But the trends in your relationship has remained relatively constant. In order to get rid of the familiar and witch link, there has to be a large enough emotional disruption.” “There is a large emotional disruption!” Your hands are open, showing the figure beside you. “He’s a human!” She sits back, shrugging. “Well, looks like it wasn’t a large enough disruption.” You’re baffled, but also aware this isn’t just some dumb government regulation or law that witches and wizards created. It’s always been like this since the dawn of time, part of the natural world. The graph merely shows the facts, but it doesn’t make it any less ridiculous. Jimin steps in, concerned. “How does the system know? What if it’s wrong?” “It isn’t. Our magic analyzes all bonds and magical links the moment you step into a government building. It’s a pretty advanced system that automatically updates. Impressive, huh?” You and Jimin look at each other, exchanging expressions of distress and dismay. A staggering exhale leaves the seams of your lips and you shift back towards the lady. “Is….is there really no way for us to separate?” “A witch and familiar tie is difficult to establish. Both parties must be intrinsically compatible, complimenting each other’s strengths and making up for one another’s weaknesses. They have to both agree and go through the proper procedures too.” She explains it to you like you’re a child who should’ve learnt this a long time ago, but you already know all of this. The woman is rubbing salt all over your wounds. “Breaking the tie is even more difficult. You can’t sever them so easily unless there is cause for it, deep enough that your bond has pretty much dissolved on its own.” She glances at your graph and spins her monitor back around. “Now you can go try to get it professionally removed anyhow and go through the ritual, but the likelihood of it being successful is extremely low. It probably wouldn’t work in this case. Actually, your relationship is better than normal, I’d say.” She looks at you one last time. “Come back when it’s worse.” When you leave, your mind is boggled. You’re having an out-of-body experience without using advanced magic. It seems like your muscles are moving and your brain is delayed. What just happened? “I don’t know.” Jimin sighs and you realize you said it aloud. You turn on your feet once you get down the city hall steps and you stare straight into Jimin’s warm brown irises. “Slap me.” “What?” The wizard-familiar is appalled, jaw becoming slack. “No!” “We need a large emotional disruption, right? So, slap me!” You lean forward, putting your face out for him and even tipping to show him your cheek. “C’mon, Chim, I know you wanna slap me hard! You feel annoyed by my existence, right? Hit me! Hit me hard! I want it! Smack me, you dirty dog!” He glances around, for once being the one to feel embarrassed. There are horrified expressions from strangers passing by. You wince when his arms raise, but instead of striking you across the face, there’s a gentle touch on your shoulders. Jimin lightly pushes you away. “Stop. I’m not going to hit you, Y/N. I’m not a monster.” “But you have my full permission!” You huff out, unknowingly pouting at him. Though after a second, you collect your senses again. “No, I get it. You don’t want to get your hands dirty, so use your magic on me! No. Wait. I have an even better idea! Let’s duel!” “What?” He’s distraught over your absurdity, wrinkles between his brows probably creasing permanently. “I’m not going to duel you! You don’t even know how to do a proper levitation spell!” “Exactly!” Dueling with Jimin would pretty much be the equivalent of getting stabbed with a blunt knife. But if it’ll break your bond, you’ll do it. If it’s what he wants, you’ll do it. “Just duel me and win. Hurt me — not enough for me to die, but enough to send me to the hospital! We’ll be all good! I won’t hold it against you, promise!” “I’m not going to do that,” Jimin deadpans, tired of you and your suggestions, and walking away, unable to handle the ridiculousness. You’re frustrated, screaming after him, “Then what are we supposed to do?!” “You could go back to the cauldron!” He turns on his heel, shouting back at you. At once, your blood runs cold, expression falling. Jimin sighs again and his hand itches to run a hand through the blonde strands of his hair. But he remembers that he’s wearing a hat, that he has ears. So instead, he pinches the bridge of his nose, and then approaches closer. His plump lips are parted, apologies tumbling off from his tongue. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” A murmur leaves your throat, “You did.” “Come with me,” Jimin whispers and you lift your head, locking your gaze with his. “I think...I know one of the people who might’ve cursed me. If we find her, then maybe we can release my curse somehow and our bond will naturally dissolve after that.” He stares at you, eyes kinder than before, even endeared. “I promise I won’t pressure you anymore.” Pathetically enough, there’s no beat of hesitation in your answer. “Okay.”

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jimin fanfic #jimin fluff #jimin scenario #LET'S GOO #BTS JIMIN AS A DOG.#OC...as a hot mess.

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sunflowersupremes · 5 years ago

Text

Broken

In which a young Arafinwe breaks one of Nerdanel’s statues.

Characters: Nerdanel, Arafinwe/Finarfin

Read on AO3

“I’m bringing something for my brother,” he said, almost bouncing on his toes. “Is he here?” Unlike his elder brother who was tall and strong, Arafinwë was short and lithely built, his hair was golden where his half-brother’s was black, and he had a perpetual smile on his face where Feanor usually had a look of intense concentration. The only thing they had in common was their eyes.

Poor thing, Nerdanel thought, watching his clear excitement. He still hasn’t figured out Feanor hates him. But she wasn’t going to be the one to break that to him. She nodded down the hall. “Second door on the left, there’s a letterbox. I’ll see to it that he gets it.” She gave him a welcoming smile and didn’t mention that Feanor would most likely burn the gift.

Then she went back to her sketch.

It was several minutes until she heard another noise from her nephew. First, it was a loud, shrill scream. Then a crash.

Nerdanel jumped to her feet and ran toward her, a desperate prayer on her lips. “Arafinwë!” He didn’t answer.

Her newest sculpture was in shattered pieces on the floor, and there was no sign of her brother-in-law. She ran forward, stumbling over more of her art, pushing it out of the way and not caring if anything else broke in the process. “Boy!” she shouted. “Arafinwë!”

The broken sculpture had been much larger than Arafinwë, some of the pieces that remained were larger than him still, and she looked under them frantically for any sign of him. She sniffed deeply but didn’t smell blood.

“N-nerdanel.”

Her head turned sharply, revealing Arafinwë, hiding under a table, unharmed. She only let her relief wash over her for a minute before shouting, “What were you thinking!?” She fell to her knees and pulled him out from under the table, dragging both of them to their feet. “Are you hurt?” she demanded. When he didn’t answer, she shook him and repeated her demand, “If you’re hurt tell me now.”

“I- I got under the table before-”

“Then you had better offer your thanks to whatever Vala protects fools,” she released his shirt and leaned back against the table, shaking. He had almost died. She took a deep breath, running her fingers through her hair.

“I- I’m sorry.”

“Not as sorry as you will be when I’m through with you.”

He winced. “I’ll help you fix it,” he offered weakly.

“I don’t want your help!” she cried. “I don’t want you in my workshop! You were meant to take your gift, leave it in the letterbox, and go.”

“I- I saw it through the door.”

“And thought you’d invite yourself in? Did your parents teach you no manners?”

He said nothing, looking down at his feet. She sighed and grabbed him by his wrist, dragging him roughly from the room, not looking to see how much damage had been done. All that mattered was that he was still breathing, not a bloodied smear on her floor.

She grabbed a ruler on their way out, and a slight tremor ran through Arafinwë. “Don’t act as though you’ve never been paddled before,” she snapped.

“Father uses his hand,” he said weakly, stumbling along behind her.

“Well, I’m not your father.”

She pulled him back to her drafting room, pulling the chair out of her desk, sitting, and yanking him across her lap. “Stop!” he yelled as she yanked down his pants.

“Hush,” she said and flicked the ruler across his skin.

“You can’t do that! You’re not my mother!” His words ended in a choked sob as the ruler landed twice more.

She paused for a moment, letting him balance himself over her lap. “You could have died, boy, do you understand that? What would your mother think if you had?”

“I didn’t think,” he whimpered. “Please Nerdanel.”

His pleas went unanswered, and she struck the ruler against him again. “I’m not going to let you die on my watch, Arafinwë. And if this is the only way to get through your thick skull, then so be it.” She fell into an easy rhythm, trying to tell herself that she was striking stone at a forge, not a small child.

He had an impressive lung capacity, and Nerdanel was once again grateful that her husband was out for the day since Arafinwë’s cries echoed off the walls hauntingly. But every time she thought of showing him a bit of mercy, she remembered how much smaller he was than the smashed statue, and the blood she’d envisioned on the floor.

Finally, when his cries had turned to muffled sobs, she stopped, dropping the ruler onto her desk and instead rubbed her hand over his reddened skin.

“Shh,” she murmured, helping him sit up. “Everything’s well now.”

He only sobbed in response.

“Do you understand why I did that?” she asked softly, stroking his back as he wept, cradling him close. “It’s because I care.”

He sniffled. “You hate me,” he accused, “just like my half-brother.”

So he did know about Feanor’s feelings toward him. A part of her was sorry for it. “Little boy, I care a great deal for you, regardless of what my husband thinks.” She carefully brushed her fingers through his hair, over once neat braids that had become frazzled over the course of his near-death experience and punishment. “I can’t stop him from hating you, any more than I can stop myself from loving you, do you understand?”

“No.”

She chuckled. “If you ever have kids of your own, you’ll understand why I paddled you.”

He hiccuped, leaning into her soft touches. “I am sorry about the statues,” he said. “I- I can help clean.”

“No. You need to be gone before my husband returns.”

Nerdanel helped him off her lap, gently pulling up his pants, rubbing the last of the tears from his face. “I’ll walk you home-”

“No!” he shook his head, then hiccuped. “I- I can walk myself.”

“Very well.” She ruffled his hair. “Stay out of trouble, and take the back path, Feanor is less likely to use that way.”

#silmfic #silmarillion #nerdanel #maglor #celebrian #elrond #turgon #ecthelion #feanorian #feanor #series: Nerdanel #my writing #tolkien one shot

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wxlfstxrx · 6 years ago

Text

Gone, Gone, Gone (Oneshot)

A/N: NOW. I honestly never expected to be the one to write this crossover; I was actually hoping someone else would. But I can’t stop thinking about this scene and now I’ve gone and put myself under immense pressure to deliver. HAH. Anyway, I know Gwen Stacy in the comics died while falling off a bridge, but since my post referred to The Amazing Spiderman 2, featuring the gorgeous Andrew Garfield (who I already envision as Remus Lupin anyway), I shall write the clocktower scene instead. As mentioned in my teaser, I also found it incredibly awkward to name Harry as the villain. Because, well. Ha ha. But yes, a major thank you to @fleursowl for prompting me to write this, and for leaving comments on my drafts, I hope I didn’t disappoint :”)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9H9bm1Oj1wQ&t=200s here’s the link to the video I referenced from!!

The title is actually a song from the Spiderman soundtrack, and god. I destroyed myself. I’m crying so hard now. Hope you guys like it.

“HARRY! This is between you and me, you wanna fight? FIGHT ME, LET HIM GO.”

“... Okay.”

Remus’ heart dropped into his stomach.

Everything was happening so fast, yet they seemed to be happening in slow motion. He didn’t allow himself even a breath before he leapt up, off the top of the domed roof. He watched helplessly as jet black hair obscured what would undoubtedly be a face of panic, and hoped and prayed with all his might that he could catch him. He extended his arms, rising to meet Sirius, who was tumbling down through the crisp autumn air. I’ve got you, I’ve got you, he chanted in his head, not letting Sirius out of his sight, although the wind was making his eyes sting.

Finally, after what felt like forever, he felt the other boy crashing into his body, the pull of gravity sending them both falling through the sky and through the roof of the clocktower with a loud smash. He didn’t care that shards of glass were piercing his skin through his latex suit, he just instinctively curled his body around Sirius’ to make sure he was okay. He could feel the other’s heavy breathing; he knew how afraid Sirius was of heights. He just held him tighter, bracing themselves.

They hit a narrow metal platform, and for a moment Remus allowed himself to breathe. His arms were wound tightly around Sirius’ waist and he pulled him towards his body even more, thanking all the gods that he was safe.

“I’ve got you, love. God, I was so fucking terrified, but it’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re alright now,” Remus rambled as one hand travelled up and down Sirius’ back, trying to soothe his frenzied breathing. Sirius weakly shook his head before burying it in the crook of Remus’ neck, letting out a choked sob.

A short clink of something dropping, and an accompanying beeping noise startled the two of them, and Remus’ head snapped up to follow the sound just several inches away from them. Too late did he realize where that sound had come from.

A red hot explosion blasted the pair off the platform, and Remus turned them on their sides to shield Sirius.

And then, they were falling again.

Remus heard Sirius scream and he felt his blood run cold. With one foot hooking desperately around an intact railing, he grabbed Sirius’ wrist with his hand. He barely had time to look down at him before the latter was slipping out of his grasp. He vaguely heard Sirius cry out his name.

Blood rushing to his head and heart pounding in his chest, he shot a web out to wrap around Sirius’ wrist tightly, breaking his fall.

A swooshing noise caught Remus’ attention and he was forced to look up. Good thing he did; had he been mere seconds later he would have been knocked off the railing by Harry. Swinging himself up, he dodged yet another attack, and managed to sneak a look at Sirius, who was (sort of) safely perched on a rotating gear just several feet below him. He was looking back at Remus fearfully, eyes widened in terror.

In normal circumstances, Remus would never be tired of staring into his boyfriend’s gorgeous face.

In that moment, that was all he allowed himself before he sprang back into action.

Remus leaped from surface to surface, trying to create as many webs as he could around the clocktower to impede the glider’s movements. Harry chased after him relentlessly, missing Remus by a hair’s breadth too many times for comfort. He barely noticed Sirius trying to maneuver himself from gear to gear in an attempt to get to safety.

Swinging from web to web to confuse Harry, Remus gained enough momentum to jump as high as he could, past the shattered roof. Shooting a well-aimed web down at Harry’s glider, he pounced on his enemy’s back and caught him in a headlock. He knew he didn’t have much time, especially with them zooming around uncontrolled in the air.

He worked quickly to coil webs around Harry’s throat, praying with all his might that this would be enough to gain the upper hand.

It wasn’t.

The glider reversed at top speed and sent Remus crashing into a wall. His vision blurred for a moment, allowing Harry to break free from his grasp. Recovering quickly, Remus kicked himself off the wall and jumped, swinging himself around a web. He barrelled into Harry and knocked him off his glider, finally, sending him crashing into a metal beam. He thought Harry had fallen face first onto another platform, knocking him out for the meantime, but he couldn’t be sure.

His eyes were instead fixed on Sirius, who was looking right back at him. Time seemed to slow down as the glider fell through the air and into the gear that Sirius was currently kneeling on.

Remus didn’t so much hear himself shouting as he felt the burn in his already hoarse throat.

Sirius was falling further and further away from him, and Remus struggled to web him back. No, no, no, not again, Remus almost cried. But he knew Sirius was counting on him, and at last the web coiled around Sirius’ wrist for the second time in ten minutes.

Sirius was now dangling in mid-air, suspended only by the strong web Remus had caught him in.

Remus frantically pulled at the long web, trying to reel him back up onto a concrete surface. As he was almost at a close enough proximity to reach for Sirius’ hand, he heard the other boy shout, “REMUS!”

He turned his head so fast he got whiplash, but it didn’t register in his mind. He had turned back just in time to feel Harry’s hands around his neck, forcefully backing him into a gear behind him.

Harry grabbed Remus by the shoulders and slammed him down on the gear they were currently on, and the web loosened, jerking Sirius down a few feet. Remus’ head throbbed painfully but he fought to maintain the web even as Harry’s foot stomped down on his wrist with a sickening crunch moments later.

He heard a broken cry from Sirius, and it wasn’t until he craned his neck to look at his broken wrist, which was still holding onto Sirius via the web, that he realized why.

The gear was turning slowly but surely, and from the way the web was caught in one of the gear’s teeth, it was a matter of seconds before it would meet the other gear and snap.

A broken metal joint that had fallen a few feet away from Remus’ hand caught itself between the pair of gears, halting the rotating of gears temporarily with a loud screech. Sirius’ breath hitched as he watched on, helplessly dangling in the air.

Taking Remus by surprise, Harry brandished a sharp knife-like weapon, aiming it at the web. Thankfully, Remus’ quick reflexes blocked the attack. Pushing his left hand into Harry’s face, he knocked the weapon out of the way with his right arm, letting it skid across and off the platform.

Remus’ hold was broken seconds later as Harry gained control over him once again. The latter wrestled to pin the former’s arms down by the side of his face, but Remus slammed their foreheads together, knocking Harry off balance. He delivered a heavy blow to Harry’s cheek and shot a web out to trap the arm that had been trying to retaliate.

Harry’s snarled, and his hand shot out to clasp around Remus’ throat, choking him. Through his watery eyes and blurred vision, Remus managed to shoot a web out through one of the gears behind Harry without him realizing.

Working quickly, he ambushed Harry by winding the long web around his throat several times just as the gear shifted, causing him to howl as the web tightened painfully around his own neck. Still, he didn’t relinquish his hold on Remus’.

The loud clang of metal caused Remus to turn his head around, watching as the broken metal joint gave way to the force of the shifting gears, and it snapped all of a sudden, falling to the depths below and narrowly missing Sirius’ suspended form.

Remus let his eyes linger on Sirius, who was dangling a little way below another gear, partially hidden from his view. Despite the chaos surrounding him, all he could hear was his own voice shouting in his mind, over and over again.

I’ve got to save him, I won’t let him die, it’ll be all over soon, we’ll make it through, I love him I love him I love him.

Remus remembered how, just hours ago, they had been on the top of the bridge, on top of the world. How he’d professed his love for Sirius and how he’d offered to go to England with him. To be with him. He wished that he could turn back the time. What he’d give to be back on that bridge, just him and Sirius against the world. He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, willing himself not to lose focus.

In a desperate attempt to buy more time, he stuck his left foot out and wedged it between two gears, ignoring the pain shooting up his foot. He felt like he was being torn apart, what with Harry’s fingers still clamped around his throat, his left foot raised up in an awkwardly painful angle and stuck between gears, and his right wrist hanging semi-limply over the edge of the gear he was currently pinned down on. But it was worth it.

Saving Sirius would be worth all the broken bones in his body.

The gears were cranking in protest, and the web was centimetres shy of snapping. Remus could no longer feel his foot, but he wasn’t going to let go. There was no way. Mustering all that was left of his strength, he tried to push his upper body up so he would be able to kick Harry off him with his right foot. He was panting heavily with exhaustion and his heart was slamming against his chest. The voice inside his head was going a hundred miles a minute. Just a little more—

A deafening screech filled the clocktower.

And everything happened so fast.

One of the gears dislodged itself, producing bright orange sparks as a result of the friction.

Sirius’ voice broke, “Re?”

No.

His vision zoomed in to the web, tracing it from his wrist to where it was caught between the two gears.

Where it snapped in two.

In that moment, he could no longer feel any pain. He could no longer feel anything. His heart felt like it was about to leap out of his mouth and drop down to his feet simultaneously.

The gears in the clocktower started spinning furious and uninhibited, and the gears in Remus’ mind followed suit. No no no, shit, fuck—

Remus didn’t even realize that Harry had released his hold on him, sailing across the air with the web still coiled around his neck and slamming into a gear, knocking him out. He was too focused on Sirius’ freefalling form.

He watched in despair as broken metal joints tumbled down alongside his boyfriend, falling further and further away from his reach.

So far.

He took the plunge.

Willing his body to pummel through the air faster, Remus kept his eyes locked with Sirius’. The glittering pools of molten silver he had come to love after all this time was now a thunderstorm, with flecks of white-hot lightning flashing every few heartbeats. If he thought Sirius had been scared earlier, the look in his eyes now almost made Remus‘ throat close up with raw emotion. The torrential rain took over, and Remus wanted nothing more than to be huddled up together in their thick blankets at home, kissing away every tear that had ever trailed down the other boy’s face.

So far.

Extending his arm, he shot a web out. Please let this be the last one. He hoped it’d reach Sirius in time. Please.

They were still gazing at each other. Remus willed the other boy to understand everything unsaid in the silence that stretched between them. I’ve got you. Trust me. I love you. I won’t let you go. Please. I’ve got you.

Sirius swallowed hard, gave him one last pleading look, shook his head ever so slightly, a fraction of a degree, and closed his eyes.

No, please look at me, please open your eyes, don’t let go.

Don’t let go.

Finally, the web caught hold of Sirius’ broad chest, capturing him in his grasp, finally.

He let himself breathe out as he caught hold of a railing, clinging onto it with his uninjured hand. Thank g—

Thud.

Remus’ heart stopped.

Wrapping one end of the web around the railing, he dropped himself down to the ground, where Sirius was suspended a few feet in the air by the other end.

Remus approached slowly, inhaling sharply.

Sirius wasn’t moving.

“Sirius?”

He removed his mask and ran a shaky hand through his mussed up hair. His lips were trembling as he stepped forward and lifted Sirius in his arms.

With one arm under his boyfriend’s back, he placed his other hand over his heart, feeling desperately for a heartbeat.

Remus didn’t think he’d ever be able to breathe again.

There was a deafeningly loud ringing in his ears as he cradled the lifeless body in his arms, as though his whispered pleas would be heard. As though they could be heard.

Please, stay with me.

Don’t go.

Don’t leave me.

Please, I love you.

You’re everything to me.

In just the span of a few minutes, he’d lost the only person he’d ever loved. He would give anything, anything at all, to have the other boy alive again.

There was complete silence all around, save for the shuddering breaths that Remus let out. He blinked his eyes furiously, tears spilling onto his lover’s face, refusing to accept whatever had just happened.

“Sirius... Sirius, please. Sirius...”

His whispered pleas grew into loud cries and he didn’t even know how much time had passed anymore; when Sirius had hit the ground it was as though the concept of time stopped existing. All he was aware of was the pain coursing through his veins, searing and never-ending.

Remus looked up, blinking past the tears, and saw the moon through the shattered roof, watching over him. In sympathy perhaps.

How was he going to survive this, when Sirius had been his rainbow after heavy storms, and the brightest star on his darkest nights?

He didn’t think he’d be able to.

Remus collapsed onto his knees, still clutching Sirius’ body in his arms, and let the wracking sobs take over him.

#remus lupin #sirius black #remus x sirius #sirius x remus #wolfstar #wolfstar oneshot #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar au #marauders #spiderman #spiderman fanfiction #wolfstar angst #angst #af

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